Shades of Memory

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “It might not go down that way.”

  “True. But now that he’s working with Vernon, I can’t take the chance. My father has plans for me and we both know he doesn’t have any lines that he won’t cross to get what he wants. Touray may not be able to stop him; hell, Touray might not want to.” I shook my head. “The only way to be sure is to take charge of my own safety.”

  I looked at him, somehow hoping he had a different argument or maybe a better solution. No such luck. His expression had turned haunted and bleak.

  “It’s okay,” I said, a gargantuan knot aching in my throat. Pushing words past it was excruciating. “I understand and I know you’re all he’s got. You’ve got to stick by him. He’s counting on you just like my family is counting on me. It sucks, but it is what it is.”

  Price jerked forward, grabbing my arms and dragging me against him. Grooves cut deep around his mouth.

  “I will not let you go,” he rasped.

  He kissed me. It was hard and desperate and primal. I snaked my arms around his neck, locking myself tight against him and gave as good as I got. I tasted salt and realized I was crying.

  I don’t know how long it went on before he tore his mouth away. My lips were bruised, but I didn’t care. His breathing was ragged. He slid a gentle hand over my cheek, brushing his thumb across my lower lip.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he promised.

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t give up on me. Not yet.”

  “I’ll never give up on you. But I know you couldn’t live with yourself if you betrayed your brother. I understand and it’s okay.”

  His arm around my back tightened. “It’s not okay. I couldn’t live if I lost you,” he said.

  I gave him a weak smile. “People don’t die of broken hearts. You’d survive.”

  “Would you?”

  I’d be a hollowed-out shell of myself. I already felt that way, knowing where this could go.

  “Sure,” I said again with zero conviction.

  He brushed my lips with his. “Liar,” he whispered.

  Price set me away from him, letting go reluctantly. “Go. I’ll find out what Tyrell did to Gregg and I’ll call you.”

  “We’re going to my place,” I said. He wouldn’t be able to find it without help. Nobody could, except my brothers and Taylor. Not even Patti knew how to get there. I’d showed Price a map once. He’d get close, but the glamours hiding it and the turn-away spells would keep him away. If not, there were bands of confusion spells and bramble spells that would do the trick.

  “Good. That should be safe. Call me when you get there.”

  “Yes, Dad,” I said, making a face in an effort to lighten the mood. “I’ll make it in by curfew, too.”

  A knock sounded on the door leading into the dining area, and then Patti put her head in. “You two okay?”

  “Fine,” I said. I looked at Price. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but then just nodded. He pressed a kiss to my lips and then shoved passed Patti. A sharp breeze followed him.

  I wrapped my arms around my aching stomach as I watched him go. We’re not over, I told myself. We’re going to figure it out. If only I believed it.

  Patti came in and scanned the room. “What a mess.”

  I followed her gaze. Paper of all kinds littered the floor, along with rags, bags of premeasured coffee, and dried beans from a bucket that had tipped over—all had spun wild on Price’s angry wind.

  “Sorry. I’ll help you clean.”

  “Yes, you will.” She retrieved a couple of brooms from the utility closet, along with a big dustpan and a garbage bag. It only took a few minutes to straighten up. Luckily Price hadn’t gone full tornado.

  “You going to tell me why you look like your dog died?” Patti asked as she tied off the bag.

  I took her broom and the dustpan and put them away before facing her. “I’ve got something in the works. I’m going to need help with it. I’ve called Arnow, Taylor, Leo, and Jamie to meet me at my house. I know you’re busy here—”

  “I’m coming,” Patti said.

  “Good. Thanks.”

  She snorted. “About time you asked. Glad you figured out that you can’t do everything alone, or even with Mister Big, Bad, and Beautiful by your side.”

  “I’ll have to tell Price you think he’s beautiful.”

  “Like he doesn’t know. The man is a walking GQ ad. His brother isn’t half bad to look at either. If only he’d keep his mouth shut, he’d be nearly a perfect man.”

  I chortled. “Please tell him so. I want to be there when you do. With a camera.”

  “I doubt I’d be the first woman to tell him,” Patti said. “Wouldn’t be the last, either. Did you know he left five hundred dollars to pay for breakfast? On what planet is that normal? I’m tempted to keep the change and shove it up his ass when I see him again. I don’t need charity, especially from him.”

  “Maybe he wanted to kick in on the costs for feeding the first responders,” I suggested. It was something Touray would do, though whether that had been his reasoning was anybody’s guess. The possibility didn’t mollify Patti in the slightest.

  “Don’t need his help,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “He can find his own way to give back. When does Snow Bitch get here?”

  “How do you know Arnow’s coming here?”

  Patti rolled her eyes. “Because I’m not stupid. You wouldn’t have told her how to get to your place, and even if you had, she couldn’t get close to it with all the protective spells.”

  “No idea how long it will take her to get here.”

  “Then go nap. I’ll come get you when she arrives.”

  Just the word nap made me want to fall over. I nodded and went back upstairs. Cristina’s door remained shut when I came in the apartment. I locked the front door and kicked off my boots before falling onto my bed with a groan. I passed out before I could even think about crying at sending Price away.

  “SHE’S QUITE THE queen of the bitches, isn’t she?” Patti asked, having just woken me up.

  “I’m standing right here.” Arnow appeared in the doorway. She towered over Patti, who had replaced her stiletto heels with a pair of blue Doc Martens. Arnow still wore lady stilts. She was in her FBI uniform, which consisted of a gray pencil skirt, a cream silk blouse, and a gray blazer, all designer and probably hand-sewn by Italian monks. Her ash-blond hair was pulled up in an elegant chignon. On me it would have been called a bun, but something as mundane and messy as a bun didn’t even live in the same zip code as Arnow.

  To be fair, she didn’t always look like an ice queen with a pointy stick up her ass. I’d seen her in jeans and wearing a ponytail and no makeup. Looking at her now, I could hardly believe the episode hadn’t been a bad drug trip.

  Her gaze took me in. “What the hell happened to your hair? Did rabid badgers attack you with hedge clippers?”

  I sighed. “Magic did it.” I had no intention of disclosing that losing control of my own magic had done the deed.

  Arnow’s eyes narrowed. “Sit down. I’m not going to be seen in public with you looking like that.”

  “I’ll wear a hat.”

  “Yes, you will, but first, I’ll get you close to presentable.”

  She sent Patti for scissors. I had high hopes Patti would stab them through Arnow’s neck, but no such luck. She handed them over, and Arnow pushed me down into a chair, then set about snipping and clipping while making disgusted noises. When she was done, my head felt too light and the air on my neck was chilly. I went into the bathroom. I looked like a copper-headed Tinker Bell with big boobs and no wings. I went in search of my hat.

  “I look stupid,” I said, pulling the knit cap on and eyeing Arnow
balefully.

  “Of course you do, but what else is new? At least you no longer look like a lawnmower got loose on your head. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank you at half past never,” I grumbled. I grabbed my boots and started to lace them up. “Where’s Cristina?” I asked, noticing the open door on Patti’s bedroom.

  “Her family came. They said to tell you thank-you.”

  “Good.” One less headache to deal with.

  “What am I doing here?” Arnow demanded. “Or are you planning to finally do the trace job for me?”

  “I can’t,” I said, looking up at her.

  The cold indifference on her face cracked away, replaced with burning fury. “We had a deal. Every minute that goes by cuts our chances of finding them alive.”

  “I know. But I said I can’t, not that I won’t.”

  Her pale brows winged down. “What does that mean?”

  “My talent is kind of wonky at the moment,” I said and brushed my fingers over the cuts on my face. “It’s what happened to my hair.” So much for keeping it a secret.

  Patti scowled at me. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I haven’t had a lot of time.”

  She didn’t look mollified, but moved on. “It’s still a traffic nightmare out there and the subway is shut down. How are we going to get to your place?”

  “Wait a damned minute. I’m not going anywhere. I came because I thought you were ready to hold up your end of our bargain,” Arnow said.

  I finished tying my boots and pulled the cuffs of my pants down over them. I propped my elbows on my knees and looked up at her. “I need your help, and I think you’re going to want in on this.”

  She snorted in a most unsophisticated way. “Why would I help you when you can’t keep your promises?”

  “Because I will as soon as I’m able, and because you don’t like Gregg Touray, and because I’m about to attempt to take over Savannah Morrell’s empire.” As soon as I said the words, I realized I’d been planning that since the moment I’d heard Touray was working with Vernon. Starting a new Tyet was ridiculous. Taking one over? Also ridiculous, but more possible.

  Arnow stared, her mouth falling open. Finally she managed, “Take control?” She laughed with genuine amusement. “Savannah will swat you like mosquito.”

  “She would if she could, but since dead people don’t move so well, I’m not worried about her.”

  Arnow froze, her face going slack. “Dead?”

  “That’s the word.”

  A strange look washed over her face, then her cold mask returned. She gave me a head-to-toe disparaging look. “Aren’t you supposed to be the poster child for anti-Tyet groups everywhere?”

  “I hate them. But you’ve got to fight fire with fire and right now, there’s an inferno about to run us all over.”

  “Details,” she demanded.

  “I’d rather talk to everyone at once. We’re going have a war counsel. That’s why I called you.”

  “Who else?”

  “Besides you two, my sister and brothers, and Dalton.”

  I was surprised when she didn’t laugh at our very motley crew.

  “What about your loverboy?”

  A needle of hurt ran through my heart, and for a second I couldn’t breathe. I drew a breath, letting myself get used to the pain. It wasn’t going away. I’d have to live with it.

  “He’s visiting his brother.” Which sounded like he could be in on this with me, even though that wasn’t going to happen. Not in this lifetime.

  Arnow shook her head. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? This isn’t running a grocery store. It’s a criminal organization. You’re going to be getting dirty. You don’t have it in you.”

  “Let me worry about that. Are you in?”

  “I’m an FBI agent,” she reminded me, but I could tell she was just giving herself time to think.

  “An agent who worked for Savannah. Now I want you to work for me. With me, because you’re right, I don’t know a damned thing about running a Tyet. You do.”

  Her lip curled. “I suppose if I refuse you’ll never get well enough to trace my people. Is that the deal?”

  I probably shouldn’t have been insulted. I resisted the urge to tell her to fuck off and just shook my head. “That has nothing to do with this. I’ll look for your people as soon as I can trace again. I’m hoping it won’t be long.”

  She blew out a breath and looked away. I exchanged a glance with Patti, who shrugged.

  Arnow finally turned back to look at me. “I guess I don’t really have a choice. Not if I want you to stay alive long enough to trace my team.”

  Relief washed through me. Until I’d laid out my argument, I hadn’t realized how much I really did need Arnow’s expertise. “Good. Then let’s get out of here.”

  IT TOOK US NEARLY three hours to get home, mostly because we started out in Arnow’s car and slogged through traffic awhile, then parked it. To avoid tails, we walked a meandering, looping path on a mazelike route, finally ending up in a run-down industrial area on the north side of Downtown. It had fallen out of use because of the flooding that happens every spring and the need to put in extra supports and infrastructure if they wanted to build anything. Since the only building anybody had ever suggested for the area was low-income housing, nobody cared to spend the kind of money necessary to make it truly safe. So the city used the area to warehouse all sorts of junk they didn’t want anymore. Every so often they held a surplus auction to liquidate what they could, then they stockpiled again.

  I refused to expose my family’s private subway system to Arnow. The less she knew about that the better. Bad enough Vernon and Dalton knew about it. I admit I had incredible respect for the way she maneuvered in her skirt and heels. She might as well have been wearing tennis shoes, the way she got around.

  “These shoes are Louboutins,” she seethed, gracefully hopping over a slushy puddle.

  “How does an FBI agent afford those?” Patti asked.

  “I’m frugal.”

  “You’re on the take,” I corrected.

  She shrugged. “And I’m frugal.”

  “I thought that word meant cutting coupons, eating peanut butter and ramen every night, buying generic, using one-ply toilet paper, and shopping at dollar stores,” Patti said. “I can’t picture you doing any of those.”

  “Your lack of imagination doesn’t interest me,” Arnow said loftily. “How much longer must this idiotic adventure go on?” she asked me.

  “Getting close.”

  I’d made her carry one of my trace nulls, even though she claimed to have her own. Not that I didn’t trust her, but I didn’t trust her, and I didn’t trust whatever sources of magic she used. For all I knew, somebody had worked tracking spells onto her nulls.

  I led my two companions down an alley between the backs of several decrepit warehouses. Rusted chain-link fences topped with sagging razor wire surrounded them. The ground was thick with gray, rutted, rippled ice and clods of snow. Overhead, power lines crackled and hummed.

  Patti looked up. “Should I see an oncologist after this?”

  “No, but you might develop the ability to climb walls like a spider,” I said.

  “I could live with that.”

  Chapter 18

  Riley

  I LIVE IN A PLACE called the Karnickey Burrows. Aside from the fact that there’s no good reason to come near there, people generally stay away because they say it’s haunted and cursed. I’ve done my best to reinforce their beliefs.

  The urban legend about the place started in the bad old days. A jealous rivalry got completely out of hand and led one jilted man to release a magical virus into the Burrows—a cramped city-within-a-city construc
ted inside a narrow, snaking canyon in the crater’s wall. The virus killed every single soul inside, including Karnickey, who built the place. After that, the Burrows was left abandoned. Not that it was prime real estate. The towering trees and steep, high canyon walls made the place gloomy for all but a few hours on a sunny day. As far as the city was concerned, it was next to useless. It wasn’t worth the price of magic to develop it.

  My place was near the mouth of the entrance, though you couldn’t see it, thanks to my brothers’ brilliant construction. I could light the place up like a Christmas tree and no one would see it.

  I had several routes inside, and I took the one that had us climbing up a zigzag of rock stairs and back down on a switchback that hugged the side of the canyon before becoming a steep flight of steps down to the bottom. The going wasn’t as hard as it could have been. I’d bought spells to keep the ice and snow melted. Illusion spells made the path indistinguishable from the terrain around it, and turn-away and briar spells made everybody avoid the entire area.

  The Burrows’ original buildings had largely crumbled or been destroyed by nearly two centuries of flash floods and heavy weather. Not that they’d been built that well in the beginning. Jamie and Leo had stabilized the rubble with steel webbing and created a solid wing of wall to divert floods away from my house. I caught the scent of cedar woodsmoke from my fireplace. I never got tired of that smell. I breathed in a deep breath.

  Mine wasn’t your traditional house. In fact, from the outside, it looked pretty much like just another giant pile of rocks. Leo and Jamie had mortared walls together with steel, then added lumpy protrusions and extra rubble to reinforce the illusion of piled debris. A slab of basalt the size of a king-sized bed leaned drunkenly against my front wall, hiding the door.