Chapter Thirty-six
I was moving. It was warm, and I was wrapped in a blanket that reeked of cigarettes. Something was on my sore wrist, and since there wasn't an erg of ever-after in me, it seemed someone had found a zip-strip. Probably the one I had in my bag. The thrum of a big engine was soothing, but the sudden shifts of motion made me sick.
"She's awake," Jenks said, his voice holding an incredible amount of worry.
"How can you tell?" came Ivy's voice from the front, and I cracked my eyes. I was in the back of a FIB cruiser, wrapped in a blue FIB blanket and slumped across the backseat.
"Her aura brightened," Jenks snarled. "She's awake."
My breathing quickened. The fog was lifting, making me even more confused. I was thinking everything twice, almost as if trying to filter the world through an interpreter. A wave of fear took me when I realized it was the curse. I wasn't just holding it, it was apart of me. The damned thing was alive?
"Rachel..." Ivy said, and I winced. Pain iced through me as a wave of panic I didn't understand rose. I could move, but I couldn't, wrapped up tight.
"Where... where are we going?" I managed, then opened my eyes wide when we turned a corner and I almost rolled off the seat. Ivy was up front, and Edden was driving, his neck red and his motions quick.
"The church," Ivy said.
A barrier of plastic separated us. "Why?" I had to get out of here. Everything would be better if I could just run. I knew it.
Her eyes were black in fear. "Because when vampires are afraid, they go home."
The curse inside me was gaining strength, and I wiggled. "I have to get out," I breathed, knowing it was the curse but unable to stop myself.
Jenks squeezed between the ceiling and the divider, and I blinked when he stopped inches from my nose. "Rachel," he coaxed, "look at me. Look at me!"
My darting eyes, following the passing building, returned to him.
"You're okay," he soothed, but his voice was making me nervous. "The EMTs gave you something to relax you. That's why you can't move. It will wear off in about an hour."
It was wearing off now. "I have to get out," I said, and Jenks darted back when I threw off the blanket and sat up.
"Whoa!" Edden said from behind the wheel. "Rachel, take it easy. We'll be there in five minutes, and then you can get out."
I wiggled the door latch to no avail. It was a cop car, for God's sake. "Stop the car," I demanded, looking for a way out and not finding it. Panic was settling in. I knew I was safe. I knew I should ease back in the seat and sit. But I couldn't. The curse inside me was stronger than my will. It hurt, and when I moved, the confusion was less.
"Let me out!" I shouted, smacking a fist into the plastic.
Edden swore when Ivy turned in her seat, and with one motion, broke the plastic with a sharp back fist. "Tamwood! What the hell are you doing!" he shouted, the car swerving as he tried to watch the road and Ivy both.
"She's going to hurt herself," she said, clearing the shards and wiggling over the seat.
I pressed into the corner of the car, scared of her. "Stay away from me!" I exclaimed, trying to get control of myself, but I couldn't.
"Rachel, relax," she said, but her hand was reaching for me.
My breath hissing in, I moved to block it.
Ivy moved blindingly fast. She twisted her hand, catching my wrist. Yanking me forward, she wrapped her body around me, hauling me onto her lap.
"Let go!" I shrieked, but she had me firmly.
"Edden," Ivy panted, her lips next to my ear. "Pull over. You have to give her another shot or she's going to hurt herself."
"Keep driving," Jenks said. "I'll do it."
Pulse beating wildly, I struggled. Ivy grunted when my head smacked into her face, but she wouldn't let go.
"Can't you hold her still for a bleeding minute?" Jenks said from in front of me, and I twisted wildly. He wanted to drug me. The little bug wanted to drug me so I couldn't move. I wanted to move. I had to run. It was why I existed, and I couldn't let them take it from me!
"Let. Me. Go!" I grunted.
Edden flipped on the lights and pulled over. Traffic passed as we stopped right on the bridge. The thickset man wedged himself half over the front seat. Grabbing my arm at the wrist and elbow, he held it steady.
"No-o-o-o-o!" I howled, struggling, but he had that one part of me unmoving, and I shrieked at the tiny prick of a needle.
"Hold still, Rache," Jenks said as I gasped for air. "You'll feel better in a minute."
"You son of a fairy whore," I seethed. "I'm going to step on you. I'm going to pluck your wings off and eat them like chips."
"Looking forward to it," the pixy said, hovering at my eye level and peering at me. "How you feel now?"
"I'm going to stuff your stump with poison ivy," I said, blinking as Edden let my arm go. "And buy a terrier to dig you out. And then I'm going to... to..." God, this stuff works fast. But I couldn't remember anymore, and I felt my muscles go limp. The curse went somnolent, and I had a brief instant of clarity before the drug took complete control. Golden sparkles blotted my vision, turning black as I shut my eyes. "I thought you were dead, Jenks..." I said, starting to cry. "Are you okay, Ivy?" My voice shook, and I couldn't open my eyes anymore. "Are you dead? I'm sorry. I messed everything up."
"It's okay, Rache," Jenks said. "You're going to be okay."
I wanted to cry, but I was falling asleep. "Kisten," I slurred. "Edden, go see Kisten. He's at Nick's," and then my lips quit working. Ivy's arms were around me, keeping me from rolling to the floor as Edden twisted back into the front seat. The siren wailed a short bleep, and he pulled back onto the road. I heard Ivy whispering softly in my ear, "Please be okay, Rachel. Please."
The gentle sound of her words became the shushing of my blood in my head, and I listened, hovering on the edge of consciousness, bathed in the oblivion of whatever drug they had given me. It was a relief not to have to fight the curse. I'd made a mistake. I'd made a horrible, immense, irrevocable mistake. And I didn't think there was a way out of it.
It was a shock when I realized my cheek was cold. I wasn't moving anymore either, and the echo of voices came from everywhere, confusing me as I tried to give them meaning where there was none. The warm arms around me slipped away, and I felt dead. I think I was in the church. Yeah, I was laying on the floor like a sacrificial lamb. That was about right.
"I don't know if I can," a soft voice said. It was Ceri, and I tried to move. I really did, but the drug wouldn't let me. The confusion was starting up again. It seemed as if the more awake I was, the more the curse could exert itself. I was beginning to feel anxious and jittery. I had to get up. I had to move.
"I can help," came Keasley's gravel voice, and an unexpected fear joined my bewilderment. Keasley was my friend, but I couldn't let him touch me. He was a witch. A witch could put me back in prison. A witch had done it before. I wouldn't let it happen. I had finally gotten free, and I wouldn't go back!
I could feel the drug slipping away, but I couldn't move yet, so I pretended to be dead. I could be still as well as run. I'd been still for millennia. And then, when the time was right, I would run.
"It's not that I can't do the curse," Ceri said, and I felt someone brush the hair from my eyes. "But her psyche is mixed with it. I don't know if I can lift the curse away without taking a chunk of her. I'm calling Minias. He owes her a favor."
Panic slid through me. Not a demon. He would see. He'd put me back! I couldn't go back. Not now. Not when I had tasted freedom! I had to get up!
I winced at the brush of air and the clatter of wings. "She's waking up again," that damned tiny voice shrilled.
A presence smelling of aftershave and shoe polish came close, making the floorboards creak. "She's had enough to put down a horse," said a man, and I tried to pull back when my arm was lifted. "I don't want to give her any more."
"Just do it," Ivy said, and I tried to slow my breathing. "We have to get that thing out of her, and we can't do it if she's fighting us!"
Again the prick of the needle, and I fought it. Blackness swirled, and I was running, running, my pulse strong and my feet moving like water. But it was a dream like all the other times, and I cursed the pain it left behind when a new voice - soft, and demanding - lifted through me and stirred me to life.
It was a Were's voice. Low. Strong. Independent. I wanted it so badly I almost choked on my desire to be free. I tried to get his attention. He would take me. He had to take me. He knew how to run. This witch didn't. Not even in her dreams.
"I can legally make life-and-death decisions for her," the Were said, and I heard the rattle of paper. "See? It's right here. And I make the decision that she will exchange the favor you owe her for your helping Ceri. You will make sure Rachel is herself before it's called done, and you will not harm anyone in this room until it is finished and you're gone."
I cracked an eyelid, rejoicing in it. With sight came a confusion of double thought. The witch in my thoughts tried to stop me, but I piled pain and confusion on her, and she ceased thinking. This was my body, and I wanted it to move as I said.
A pair of purple slippers shifted on the hardwood floor, about a yard from me. A shimmering band of black was between us, but I knew the terrible stink of demons, a hundredfold worse than the green reek of elves.
"The mark is between Rachel and me," the demon said, and my hope died. It would put me back in a little box of bone. But I wanted to run. I would be free!
The Were came closer, and I sang to him, but he didn't hear me. "I'm her alpha!" he exclaimed. "Look at this paper. Look at it, you damned demon! I can make this decision for her. It's the law!"
I stiffened at the clatter of wings, hating them. It was that pixy again. Damn it, why wouldn't it leave me alone!
"Guys..." the pest said, hovering at my nose and peering into my eyes. "She needs a little more of that happy juice."
The slippered feet padded closer, and someone turned me. I stared up at the demon, feeling my hatred grow. His kind had created me. Created me, bound me, and then trapped me in a little box made of bone that couldn't move.
A sliver of satisfaction lifted through me when the demon's eyes widened and he backed away. "Bless me back to the Turn, she really does have it in her," he whispered, still retracting. "I'll do it," he said, and I struggled to move. He was going to put me back into my cell. I would kill him first! I would kill them all.
"Sleep," the demon commanded, and I shuddered as a blanket of black imbalance shifted over me, and I slept. I had no choice. The demon had willed it, and they had made me.
Chapter Thirty-seven
The room was dim, and I was hot. I could smell my conglomeration of perfumes over an unfamiliar, throat-catching incense, but the heavy weight atop me had the familiar feel of my afghan. The sound of birds coming in my open, dusky window was soothing, and the warm spot beside me said Rex had been here. My curtains were closed, but predawn light filtered in as they moved in the breeze to tell me along with my clock that it was just before sunrise.
I took a slow breath, feeling the air slip in with barely a twinge of pain. Just muscle aches. A chanting heavy with ceremony came from the sanctuary, and the ting of a bell. The scent of incense wasn't vampiric but herbs and minerals. To be quite honest, it stank.
I managed to sit up. My heart quickened, and I put my back to the headboard. Wincing, I touched my neck and the bandage there. It felt okay, and my hand moved to my middle when it rumbled.
My face lost all expression as I realized that the confusion was gone.
I sat on my bed, worriedly remembering Ceri and David. A pulse of fear shot through me. Minias had been here, and I had literally been out of my mind. Where was the curse? Ceri was going to take it out. Oh, God, Ivy. She had been savaged by Piscary. But I remembered her in the car. She had been alive. Hadn't she?
I flung the covers off, ready to find out who was here and demand some answers - but when the cooler air hit me, I realized I had a more pressing problem.
"Uh... I have to go to the bathroom," I murmured, swinging my feet to the floor, not nearly as fast as I wanted to. A myriad of aches and pains hit me. I was shaky, too. Carefully, I stood with my hand atop the bedpost for balance. Last time I checked, I had been in that gorgeous bridesmaid dress. Now I was in a pair of panties and a long T-shirt. Atop my dresser among my perfumes and sitting on Nick's file were my hairbrush, a tube of antibiotic ointment, and some bandages.
I shuddered when something passed through my aura with the tinkling of silver bells to leave me with the sensation of wintergreen. I'd never felt the like, but it hadn't hurt. More like the pristine pricks of snow on your upturned face. Uneasy, I pulled up my shirt to see the bruises and scrapes in my bedroom mirror. I wasn't dead. Hell wouldn't have me in a Takata STAFF shirt, and heaven would smell better.
I heard the front door shut, then silence. Moving slowly, I headed to the door, feeling every muscle protest. I had to use the bathroom in the worst way. But as my hand reached for the knob, I froze. My nose was tickling. I was going to sneeze.
A thread of alarm unrolled as I took a deep breath, trying to stop it. My hand went to my bandaged neck to hold me in place as a sneeze shook me. Hunched, I sneezed again, then again.
Crap. It's Minias.
"Where's my scrying mirror?" I whispered, panicking as I looked over my dark room. Lurching to my closet, I flung the door open. I had put it in here. Hadn't I?
Pain jolted me as I dropped to my knees, flinging aside boots and magazines as I searched. I sneezed again, grimacing at the throb in my neck. I couldn't see in the darkness of my closet, but a cry of relief passed my lips as my fingers found the cool glass. Staggering to my feet, I backed out and into my room.
My hair swung into my eyes, and I plopped onto my bed. I put my hand on the glass and froze, trying to remember the word. But it was too late.
I spun where I sat at the soft pop of displaced air, springing to my feet with the mirror in hand. Minias stood in the shadowed darkness between me and the closed door, his funny hat atop his brown curls, that exotic purple robe draped over his wide shoulders, and the glint of bare toes catching the faint light.
"No!" I exclaimed, terrified, and Minias raised his hand. I didn't wait to see what he was going to say. Hefting my scrying mirror, I swung it at his head.
It connected, pain reverberating up my arm. Minias yelped, and the mirror shattered into three heavy pieces. Wide-eyed, I fell back, shaking my stinging hand and tapping a line.
Ugly words I didn't understand fell from the demon, and, continuing to backpedal, I made a circle. But it wasn't set from a drawn line. I knew it wouldn't stand.
Striding forward, Minias jabbed one finger into my circle, and it fell.
I retreated to kick him, but he caught my foot before it reached him.
Fear iced through me when he didn't let go, hopping me backward and pushing me onto the bed. "You stupid witch," he said in disdain, then slapped me.
Stars exploded, and I think I passed out, because the next thing I knew, Minias was bending over me. Gasping, I thrust my palm, jamming his nose. The demon fell back, swearing at me. "Get out!" I exclaimed.
"I'd love to, you asinine witchanderthal," the demon said, voice muffled by the hand holding his nose. "Will you relax? I'm not going to hurt you unless you keep hitting me."
My gaze darted to the closed door, and he brought his hand from his nose, glancing at it to see if he was bleeding. He murmured a word of Latin, and a glow from my dresser mirror lightened the predawn gloom. My mouth was dry, and I scooted to the headboard. "Why should I believe you?" My throat hurt as if I'd been yelling, and I held a hand to it.
"You shouldn't." Minias looked at his fingers in the new light, then let the hand drop. "You're the most backward person I know. I'm trying to finish up this arrangement so I can return to my quiet life, and you want to play demon summoner and demon."
Pulse easing, I flicked my gaze to the door and back to him again. Someone had gone outside, and I hadn't heard a car start. It had to be Ivy. If she'd been in the church, she would have heard us and come. "I'm safe?" I said softly so my throat wouldn't hurt, wondering if I could trust him. "We're in the middle of a deal?"
Minias took a firmer stance, his head canted in exasperation and his hands clasped before him. "I'm trying to finish it up. The way your Were worded it, I'm not done until I'm sure the curse is out of you and you're back to your usual backward self. And until it is, everyone that was in the room is under a measure of protection. So yes, we are in the middle of a deal." His gaze went to mine, and I shivered. "But you're not safe."
I curled my feet up under me, not liking this at all. "I'm not paying for you to come over here," I babbled. "I was trying to answer. You didn't give me enough time to answer."
"Good Lord!" Minias exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against my dresser. Bottles spilled, and he jerked forward. "It's only a little imbalance," he said, fingers fumbling to stand a bottle upright before he turned to ignore the rest, making me think that for a demon he didn't have much experience in dealing with people. "You make your dates pay for everything, too, don't you?" he added. "No wonder you can't keep a boyfriend."
"Shut up!" I yelled, hurting my throat. Oh, God. Kisten. Piscary had been lying. He had to have been. Otherwise I was going to have to decide if I was above revenge or not. And I wasn't good at telling myself I couldn't have something when I wanted it.
Minias's eyes ran over the lines of my room as I sat on my bed in my underwear and a shirt and tried not to shake. "You have such interesting thoughts," he said lightly. "No wonder witches are ephemeral. You drive yourself crazy. You should simply do what you want without the soul-searching." His goat-slitted eyes fixed on me, and I felt my stomach drop. "It will be easier in the long run, Rachel Mariana Morgan."
My pulse had slowed, and I was starting to believe I was going to survive this. "Rachel is fine," I said, not liking him saying my middle name.
A single eyebrow rose. "You seem to be all right. Any urges to run under the moon?"
Refusing to shrink away, I let him get close enough that the scent of burnt amber settled deep in me. "No. Where's the focus?"
"Feel the need to tear out people's throats?" he asked.
"Just yours. Who has the focus? You took it out, where is it?"
He straightened, and I realized again how tall he was. "Ceri took it out, not me. And if there had been a way to help her do it wrong, I would have."
"Just tell me who has the damned focus!" I exclaimed, and he snickered.
"Your alpha," he said, and my stomach knotted. David? We're back to square one.
"It settled in him as if it wanted to go," the demon added, and my heart seemed to stop. David didn't possess the focus; it possessed him? Like it had been inside of me?
"Where is he?" I said, springing off my bed. But there was nowhere to go.
"How should I know?" Minias lifted a bottle and sniffed the top, recoiling. "He's handling it better than you are. It was made for a Were, not a witch. Taking it in you was stupid. Like dropping a chunk of sodium metal into a bucket of water." The bottle hit the dresser with a clink.
I shifted uneasily, not knowing if I should believe him. "He's okay?"
"Better than," Minias drawled, his fingers still toying with my perfumes. "Giving the focus to the Weres is going to turn around and bite you, but it did accomplish what you wanted." His goat-slitted eyes focused on mine, and my tension rose. "The Weres are happy, and the vampires think it's destroyed. Right?"
Right. "I'm fine," I said tartly, my fear coming out as cheek. "You can go now."
"The elf did it," he said, shaking his head. "Al has more drive and talent to teach than I gave him credit for. He taught her extremely well to be able to untwist a curse like that and leave you... relatively unscathed. No wonder he kept her for a thousand years."
Face scrunched up, he smelled another bottle and set it down. "Al is furious," he said casually, and even my false bravado vanished. "They caught him seconds after you threw him back to our side of the lines. He's in his own personal hell. And you still owe him a favor." Sniffing a third perfume, he looked at me from under a lowered brow. "I wonder what it will be?"
"I'm fine. Get out," I repeated.
"May I have this?" he asked, holding the bottle upright.
"If you leave, you can have them all."
The bottle vanished from the cradle of his fingertips. "One last thing," he said, an odd glint in his eyes. "The focus?"
I stiffened, a trickle of fear growing in the pit of my being. "Yeah? "
"It wasn't what Newt was looking for when she tore your church apart."
He began to vanish, and I stepped forward, frightened. "What was she looking for?"
I haven't the slightest idea, echoed in my thoughts.
"Wait!" I shouted. "Does she remember me? Minias! Does she remember me?"
I searched the night for sound and my mind for thoughts, but he was gone. Another instant and the light he had set glowing in my mirror faded to nothing.
Crap. What had she been looking for if it hadn't been the focus?
The thump of the front door closing echoed through the brightening air, and I looked to the front of the church. A car started, and tension brought me straight when I recognized Ivy's soft footsteps in the hall. "Ivy..." I said, then put a hand to my throat when it hurt.
I jumped when my bedroom door was flung open and a gray shaft of light spilled in. "Rachel," Ivy said, her features lost in shadow.
"Last time I checked," I said, deciding that mentioning Minias wouldn't help anyone.
"You're okay," she whispered, coming in and gripping my arm. "It's you. Right? Just you?" Her eyes were wide from the shadow, and there was a bandage on her neck. Seeing my blank stare, she took me in a surprising hug. "Thank you, God."
My tension, born of surprise, vanished and I relaxed, my face next to hers as I took in her scent as if it were water. I didn't care if it was chock-full of pheromones meant to relax me, to make it easier for her to bite me. That's not why she was holding me. She had been worried. And she was alive. A dead vampire wouldn't have cared if I was myself or not. Ivy was alive. Maybe Kisten is, too. Please let Piscary have lied to me.
"It's me," I said, remembering Ivy and Edden grappling with me in the back of a car when I'd been lost to the curse. "Uh, I have to go to the bathroom."
Ivy stepped back. "You scared me," she said.
"I scared myself," I said, catching myself against the bedpost as I scuffed forward.
"Jenks!" Ivy yelled when my bare feet edged into the hallway. "She's okay! She's up!"
"What is that stench?" I said, sniffing the distastefully harsh scent of bad incense.
"We got the church unblasphemed," she said, following me out. "The guy just left. I think you embarrassed him, so he did some research. All he had to do was find and replace the original scrap of holy cloth that the sanctity was focused on. Jenks's kids found it, and the rest was easy."
I nodded, thinking that odd sensation I'd felt when waking up must have been the blasphemy falling away. Then I wondered what the guy was going to do with the fouled cloth. Put it in the ever-after, maybe? That's what I'd do. I wobbled three more steps to the bathroom, then turned. "You're alive, right?" I asked, remembering the EMTs stopping their efforts.
From my doorway Ivy laughed. I must have really scared her. I'd never seen her show so much emotion. Clearly happy, she smiled. "I'm alive," she said, looking beautiful with her eyes wet. "Piscary didn't..." She took a breath. "I passed out when Piscary gave me enough vamp saliva to stop my heart, but the FIB guys kept me alive and the EMTs gave me an antitoxin. I never died," she said happily. "I still have my soul."
Good, I thought. Something had gone right for a change. I was afraid to ask her about Kisten. "I have to go to the bathroom," I murmured, the situation turning critical.
"Oh!" she said, suddenly embarrassed. "Sure. I'll, um..."
Her thought was cut short when Jenks blew in from the back rooms. "Rache!" he shrilled, shedding gold sparkles. "You okay? Tink's bordello, you're one wild woman. I've never seen anyone do the things you did. Who taught you to swear in Latin?"
He was flitting madly between Ivy and me, and I put a hand to the wall so I didn't lose my balance trying to watch him. "It was the curse, not me," I said.
"How's your knees?" he said, dropping down to look at them, and my head snapped up when he darted to the ceiling. "You hit them pretty hard when Ceri took you down."
"I don't remember that either," I said, crossing my legs and praying. "Would you get out of my way? I have to go to the bathroom."
"Holy crap," Jenks said, rising up to follow Ivy and me. "I thought you were going to kill Edden. He's the one who gave you the black eye."
So that's why my face feels puffy, I thought, shuffling down the hallway. "What day is it?" I asked, wondering how long it had been since I ate.
"Monday." Ivy was hovering tight to my heels. "Wait. It's Tuesday now."
"Oooooh, the spirits did it all in one night," I said, squinting as I flicked on my bathroom light. My eyes hurt. I turned to find them staring at me as if I'd said something scary. "What?" I protested, and Jenks landed on Ivy's shoulder.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Yes, but if I don't get into this bathroom, I'm going to make a puddle."
Jenks took flight, and Ivy took three steps back. "You want something to eat?" she said, and I hesitated in my motion to shut the door.
"Anything but Brimstone," I said, and her face flushed guiltily. The door closed between us, and I put both hands on the washer, leaning over it and shaking. It wasn't blood loss. And I wasn't beaten up that badly. I was fatigued. Something - maybe someone - had fought a battle in me, and I didn't remember any of it. The focus was gone, so it had lost. I was the one picking myself up off the battlefield and hobbling to the next fight.
I hoped it would be easier than this last one.
Pushing myself upright, I went to the mirror. My hand moved to peek behind the bandage on my neck, then dropped. I didn't want to know just yet. Turning my head, I looked myself over, deciding that it wasn't bad. A complexion amulet would take care of the black circles under my eye, and the fat lip made me look pouty. There was a bruise on my shin and another on my hip just below where the T-shirt ended. My back hurt when I bent over to check out my knees, but nothing would need more than a day or two to return to normal. It was almost a disappointment. Having been a demon curse, however brief, should leave some kind of mark. A streak of silver hair, or bewitching eyes. Maybe crows on one's roof or a hound from hell at your heel. But what do I get? Blowing out my breath, I stood and squinted at my reflection.
A black eye. Swell.
Ivy's voice murmured as she talked on the phone, and after taking care of my most urgent need, I decided a shower could wait until after I got a few questions answered and my stomach filled. The dryer contained a pair of jeans instead of Kisten's clothes, so with a new depression, I tucked my STAFF shirt in, invoked a complexion charm, ran a toothbrush over my teeth, and called it good. The smell of coffee sifting in under the door made me feel ill, I was so hungry.
Movements slow from the expectation of bad news, I headed out. The bright light of a new day spilled into the hallway from the kitchen. This was the third morning I'd gotten up at dawn instead of going to bed, and I was tired of it.
"Rachel just woke up," came Ivy's voice before I had gone two steps, and I slowed. She wasn't on the phone; we had someone in our kitchen. "She's not talking to anyone until she gets a chance to eat and catch her breath, and she's not talking to your shrink, so you can just get back into your cruiser and the hell back to the FIB where you belong."
My eyebrows rose, and I hastened forward. What's Glenn doing here?
Shit. Kisten, I thought miserably, answering my own question. He's dead.
"Felps wasn't at Sparagmos's apartment," I heard Edden say, and my reality shifted. Not only was Kisten's death still uncertain, but this wasn't Glenn, it was his dad. I didn't know if that was better or worse. "We need to find him, and Rachel might be able to help," he finished.
"Give the woman some peace!" Jenks said. "Piscary said he was dead. Find him on your own. The I.S. isn't going to stop you. They don't care."
I pushed into motion, ready to try anything if it would lead to Kisten's still being alive. "But if he's alive, he might be hurt," I said as I entered, and Edden turned from his position at the back of the kitchen. There was someone else with him, looking spare next to Edden's squat bulk, and my bare feet squeaked to a stop. Edden had brought the FIB's shrink out with him?
Edden glanced at the young man beside him. Ignoring the threat of Ivy standing before the sink with her arms crossed, Edden came forward, his brow pinched in worry. He was in his usual khaki slacks and white shirt, and the gun in his shoulder holster said he was working. "Rachel," he said, glad to see me. "You look a lot better."
"Thanks." I blinked in surprise when he gave me a hug. The scent of Old Spice puffed up, and I couldn't help my smile when he awkwardly dropped back. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
He smiled and rubbed his elbow. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't you."
I exhaled in relief, though still feeling guilty, and I looked over the kitchen for anything to eat. Nothing was cooking, but the coffeemaker was gurgling its last. The cake had been frosted, and it sat on the counter as a sad testament of how things were supposed to be. Depressed, I sank down at my spot at the table. "Kisten wasn't at the apartment?" I asked, desperate hope almost painful as it settled in around my heart, and I glanced at the other guy, now shifting awkwardly. "Jenks said he called to say he was going underground. And Piscary has lied before. If Kisten might be alive, I'll do anything."
Edden's friend went to speak, changing his mind when Ivy pushed away from the sink and slunk to her chair before her computer - her safe spot. Jenks stayed at the window, standing on the sill where he could keep an eye on his kids. I hadn't realized how noisy they were at sunrise.
"Edden thinks human psychology can bring back your memory." Ivy said, scowling "Human science can't best a witch charm. It's only going to tear you up, Rachel."
Ignoring her, Edden turned to the man, and he came forward with a hesitant confidence. "Dr. Miller, this is Rachel Morgan. Rachel, I want you to meet Dr. Miller, our psychiatrist."
I leaned forward in my chair and shook his hand. The hope that Kisten might be alive was desperate and painful, and the color of the amulet Dr. Miller was wearing shifted from a deep purple to white. "Nice to meet you," I said, indicating he should sit down, and he and Edden took two chairs to my right.
The young man had a nice grip, which wasn't surprising if he was the FIB's shrink. What did surprise me was the slight lifting of ever-after that had tried to pull through me when we touched. He was human - I didn't sense any redwood coming off him at all, and he worked for the FIB - but he could do ley line magic. And his amulet was metallic - clearly a ley line charm.
He was taller than me, and his brown shoes, made an odd statement against his gray slacks and gray-pinstriped white shirt. His black hair was cut to an easy style. His frame was spare, and he was wearing wire-rimmed glasses before his brown eyes.
Glasses? I mused, No one wears glasses unless...
My suspicion was borne out when Dr. Miller tucked them away with a grimace. Crap, they were for seeing auras without tapping in to one's second sight, which humans generally couldn't do unaided without a lot of practice. Great. Nothing like a good first impression.
The amulet he wore shifted to a reddish gray, and the FIB's psychiatrist gave me an apologetic smile as he scooted his chair in. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Morgan," he said from between Edden and me. "Call me Ford."
Jenks's wings clattered, and he flew to land on the table, standing with his hands on his hips so the hilt of his garden sword showed. "That thing reads emotions, doesn't it?" he said belligerently. "Is that how you do your job? You use that to know if people are telling the truth or not? Rachel isn't lying. If she says she doesn't remember, she doesn't remember. She'd want to find Kisten if she could."
Ford glanced down at it again, taking it off from around his neck and setting it on the table. "The amulet isn't reacting to her, it's reacting to me. Sort of. And I'm not here to find out if Ms. Morgan is lying. I'm here to help reconstruct what I can of her artificially muted memory with the intent to find Mr. Felps."
I felt a stab of guilt, and his ley line amulet flashed a brief gray-blue once more.
"If she allows it," he added, fingering the metallic disk. "The longer we wait, the less she will remember. We are under a time constraint, especially if Mr. Felps is in trouble."
Ivy's eyes were closed as she struggled to hide her emotions. "Rachel, he's dead," she whispered. "For the FIB to play on your hope to make their job of finding him easier is wrong."
"You don't know he's dead," Edden protested, and a chill took me when she opened her eyes. They were black with pain.
"I'm not going to listen to this," she said.
I stiffened when she rose and walked out. Jenks hovered uncertainly, then buzzed out after her. The smell of the coffee pulled at me, and I went to pour myself a mug, filling two more for Ford and Edden. The first gulp hit me like a balm, doing as much as the soft breeze coming in the window to soothe me. Maybe there was something to this up-at-dawn stuff.
"What do I do?" I said as I put the coffee before the two men and sat.
Ford's smile was brief but sincere. "If you would put this on?"
The amulet settled into my hand, and I felt the hum of ever-after running through it, tugging on me as if trying to pull it from my fingertips. "What does it do?"
He hadn't let go of the charm yet, and feeling his fingers slide against mine as he I looked up in almost shocked surprise. His lips quirked in a smile when the amulet in my hand turned to a delicate lavender. I was starting to see a pattern here.
"Your friend was correct. It's a visual show of your emotions," he said, and I cringed. I could guess what lavender meant, and I forced my thoughts to remain puritan pure as I looped it over my head. Unlike an earth-charm amulet, this one only had to be within my aura to work, not touching skin.
"But you said it was responding to you, not me."
A brief look of pain passed over his features. "It is."
My eyes widened. "You mean you can feel other people's emotions? Naturally? I've never heard of that before. What are you? You don't smell like a witch."
Chuckling, Edden took his coffee and retreated to the corner of the kitchen, pretending to watch Jenks's kids in order to give us some privacy.
Ford shrugged. "Human, I guess. My mother was the same way. She died from it. I've never heard of anyone else like me. I'm trying to find a way to make it work for me instead of against me. The amulet is for you, not me, so you know exactly what I'm feeling from you. The intensity of emotion is shown by brightness and the type of emotion by color."
I started to get a sick feeling. "But you can feel my emotions whether I'm wearing the amulet or not?" I asked, and when he nodded, I added, "Then why am I wearing it? "
Edden shifted nervously at the window. I knew he wanted us to get on with it.
"So that when we're done and you take it off, you have the illusion that I'm not listening anymore."
Jenks came in right about then, changing his mind about landing on my shoulder at the last moment to park it on Edden's shoulder when he saw my look. It made sense, even if it was a lie. "That's got to be hell," I said. "Someone ought to make a muffler for you."
Ford's expression blanked. "Do you think you can?"
I shrugged. "I don't know."
His brown eyes were distant, and the amulet around my neck went pearl gray. Taking a deep breath, he brought his attention back.
I couldn't help but wonder at the misery of sensing everyone's emotions all the time. Poor guy, I thought, and the amulet burst into blue. His lips parting, Ford blinked at me, clearly feeling my pity for him. The amulet shifted to red, and my face flamed to match it. Embarrassed, I reached to take the amulet off. "This isn't going to work," I said.
Ford's hands enveloped mine, stopping me. "Please, Ms. Morgan," he said earnestly, and I swear I could feel the amulet warming in our hands. "This is a tool. The reality is that people are far more adept at reading facial expressions than this amulet can indicate. It's simply a way to make a data point of something as nebulous as emotions."
I sighed, my entire body easing, and the amulet peeping between our fingers went a neutral gray. "Call me Rachel."
He smiled. "Rachel." His hands left mine to show that the disk was a silvery purple. Not the purple of anger, as when I thought of the I.S., but lavender. Ford liked me, and when I smiled, he went red in embarrassment.
Jenks snickered, and Edden harrumphed. "Can we get on with this?" the FIB captain complained.
Letting the amulet drop to where I couldn't see it, I straightened, suddenly nervous. "Do you really think Kisten is still alive? "
His brow knitting, Edden crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "I don't know. But the faster we find him, the better."
Nodding, I settled into the chair and glanced at Ford for direction. I'd been to family counseling with my mom when my dad died, but this was different.
Ford angled the chair so that his legs ran perpendicular to the table, rather than under it. "Tell me what you remember," he said simply, hands folded.
Jenks's wings increased in pitch, then went silent. I took a sip of coffee, closing my eyes as the liquid slipped down. It was easier if I didn't look at the amulet. Or Ford's eyes. I didn't like the idea that I couldn't hide my emotions from him.
"I left him at Nick's apartment to wash his clothes," I said, feeling a pang of heartache. "It was a few hours until sunset, and I had to move the car before it was recognized. I was going to go back."
My eyes opened. If Piscary was right, I did go back.
"And you don't remember anything after? "
I shook my head. "Not until I woke up in Ivy's chair. I was sore. My foot hurt." My inner lip was cut.
Ford's eyes went to my hand clutching my upper right arm, and I forced my hand down. Even I was starting to realize it was my subconscious trying to tell me something.
"Don't try to remember, then," he said, and I felt some tension leave me. "Think about your foot. You hurt yourself, and that's hard to wash away completely. Who did you kick?"
My breath exhaled slowly. I closed my eyes, and my foot seemed to throb. Not who, but what, I thought suddenly. My hair had been in my mouth, and it blocked my vision, making me smack into the archway to the door instead of the handle. The damn door was so freaking narrow, and it hadn't been my fault. The floor had moved, throwing me off balance.
I felt my face go blank, and I opened my eyes. Ford had leaned forward, knowing that I had remembered something, and his eyes seemed to demand an answer. The amulet between us glowed a slurry of purple, black, and gray - anger and fear. I didn't remember the night, but there was only one place Kisten would go with narrow doors where the floor would move.
"Kisten's boat," I said, standing up. "Edden, you're driving."