“Katherine Smith. The mother of one of the high school students. She didn’t list a father on the birth certificate for her daughter, Meradith. After Meradith’s death, she went back to night school to become a nurse. She moved around quite a bit and dropped off the radar about ten years ago.”
“You don’t know where she is?”
“We can’t find her.”
“Why do you think she’s a good candidate?”
“Because of the detective who worked her daughter’s case. He’s got one foot in the grave, but he remembered it—it’s the one case that stuck with him: death by unknown circumstances of a young girl. She was found by janitorial staff in the school nurse’s office.”
“And where does Katherine come in?”
“By the detective’s account, Meradith’s death put Katherine under a great mental strain. Katherine told the detective her daughter had just started seein’ Mr. Bradley and he had promised to take care of them both. The detective couldn’t find anyone else to corroborate. He was so worried about her state of mind, he asked a caseworker friend to drop by and check up on her.”
“And?”
“The caseworker thought the same thing as the detective: Katherine Smith was about to break. But she wasn’t a danger to herself or others, so there wasn’t anythin’ they could do.”
“Do you have contact information on Maria?”
“In your email.”
“Thanks, Harry. I’ll look at Maria. I’m not sure what to do next to try to find Katherine.”
“Maybe Miriam can help.”
“Needle, haystack. But thanks for the idea.”
“If by any chance we come up with anythin’, we’ll let you know. But the trail is very cold.”
“Harry, if you can’t find her, I doubt anyone could.”
“I am the best.”
“I know.”
“And yet, you haven’t made use of all of my talents.”
“I’m only in need of your PI skills.”
“But, darlin’, I could give you so much more.”
“And you would get nothing out of it. Uh-uh.”
“I always get somethin’ out of it. It’s much more fun that way.”
“Well, you keep honing those skills on all of the women who swoon and fall at your feet.”
“Have you started that list?”
“What list?”
“The list of my competitors for your hand in . . . companionship.”
“I don’t do lists.”
“Oh, darlin’, I’m going to let that one go.”
“Bye, Harry.”
I hung up the phone and shook my head. It looked like a bit of levity could lighten any mood, if only briefly.
Chapter Forty-six
I pictured Ethan’s smiling face. Not the façade I’d left. It had almost looked as if he were sleeping. But he hadn’t been. I’d run my finger over his cheek and wished I could tell him that he needed to shave. Then I’d bent over and kissed his head, inhaling through my nose. I still missed the smell of him as a baby. And I’d left him. Sure, Sean had stayed and promised to call me if anything changed. But I was in another city, helping another child, while one of mine lay in his own coma and the other was drowning in guilt. Some mother I’d turned out to be. Sarah briefly came to mind. Maybe she was better off. Maybe I’d be an even worse mother if I’d started earlier.
Don’t
Don’t what?
Fall into despair. All is not lost.
It may be.
Even so, you still have a child.
He’s not a child anymore.
Neither is Ethan. But they both still need you.
But being my children put them at risk.
Life is full of risk.
But if they weren’t my children . . .
They’d be subject to other risk, but risk nonetheless.
She was right. I’d done my best. And still I could remember so many times I should have done better. So many times I might have screwed it all up.
Daniel laid on the horn and brought me from my thoughts. We were on our way from the Dallas airport to the hospital in Sherman, and I’d been quietly brooding, lost in my own world.
I looked around. There were people everywhere. Many on bikes, some on foot, and the traffic was ridiculous. “What in helheim is going on?”
“There must be a race,” Daniel said through his teeth.
He navigated the roads slowly, but he still had to slam on the brakes several times. He was normally calm and unflappable, so I was shocked to see him wild-eyed and sweaty. I’d never seem him unhinged. Thus far, he’d always seemed to be entirely aware of his surroundings, but now he was whipping his head around from side to side as if he couldn’t keep it all straight.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“All these damn people.”
“You’ve driven in traffic worse than this when we were in Denver.”
“Traffic is different. It’s all the bikes and the pedestrians—” He slammed the heels of his hands into the steering wheel.
“Would you like me to drive?”
He nodded. I watched his shoulders relax as he signaled to make the next right. Despite us having right of way, he crept the car forward until we cleared the pedestrian crowd that wanted to cross the street whether or not a car was there. The street ahead was clear, so he accelerated toward an open space near the end of the block. I caught a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye before finding myself flying forward. The seat belt cut into my sternum and the air bag deployed in my face. The damn air bags might save your life, but holy helheim, they hurt. My head swam, and my voice wasn’t quite clear when I said, “What happened?”
Daniel ignored my question. I could hear him breathing hard and fast over my attempts to push the now deflated air bag away. He bolted from the car as soon as he cleared himself of his own airbag and seat belt.
After I finally extracted myself, the scene that greeted me was grim. A little girl lay next to her pink bike, her helmet askew, but still on her head. A woman, probably her mother, stood screaming over her and jerking forward and backward, as if she wanted to hold the girl but was afraid to touch her. Daniel, normally a man of action, stood motionless. His face was slack, and tears coursed down his face. Other people had started gathering and I knew the crowd would thicken quickly.
I moved toward the girl as quickly as I could, given my own shaken state, and made it to her side before the crowd made that impossible. I laid two fingers on the vein in her neck and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt her pulse. I looked up at no one in particular and yelled, “She’s alive! Someone call 911!”
I saw several people go for their phones, while others jockeyed for the best viewing position. Both Daniel and the woman sank to the ground near the girl, the woman finally taking the girl into her arms and sobbing into her hair. Daniel just curled in on himself. I tried to stand and make my way to Daniel. I’d only taken two steps when the crowd fell silent, and I looked around, wondering what else had happened. We—the girl, the woman, Daniel, and the crowd—found ourselves in a forest glade, a rock-lined pool nearby disturbed only by the water falling into it from a crack in one of the many boulders that surrounded it. The air was cool against my skin and smelled of earth and vegetation, a far cry from the Texas heat and the recent city smells.
Dian Cecht stood within the crowd, but head and shoulders taller than everyone. He faced me and the girl’s mother. How in helheim had he pulled this off? I’d not seen or heard of any deity being able to pull this much direct contact with as many psychics, let alone people who weren’t psychic. I eyed him for a moment before standing up. I tripped, still stunned from the accident, and caught myself. I took a breath, shook my head, and tried again.
The crowd had all turned to look at the god. He was a sight. Seven and a half feet tall if he were an inch. Built like a brick shit house. Long blond hair, braided in front, and stunning moss green eyes.
I pushed my w
ay through the crowd and stepped out in front. I bowed, somewhat gracefully, despite the pounding that had started in my head. “Well met, Dian Cecht, god of healing. Why have you brought us here?”
“To witness my greatness.”
I looked around again. We stood in a clearing in the forest next to the pool. I surmised that he’d brought us all to the newly formed Well of Sláine. And that could mean only one thing.
“You wish to heal the child?”
He nodded.
“And your payment is the witnessing of those here?” It was a risky tactic. I was backing him into a corner suggesting that he’d explicitly put forth what he’d accept for payment, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have the patience to negotiate. Nor did I have the mental acuity I needed. I’d just been rattled so hard my brain felt like it had been through a blender. And my child was in a coma. Life wasn’t fair. And sometimes that meant it wasn’t fair to more folks than us mere mortals. I’d deal with the hurt feelings of a petulant god later, even if it cost me my life.
He furrowed his brow and frowned at me.
“That is your stated desire,” I said.
He pressed his lips together before saying, “So it is.”
“The deal is struck.”
I turned to bring the child, but Daniel must have regained a bit of his wits. He held the wailing mother in his arms, and she, in turn, held the unconscious child. I stepped aside and followed them to Dian Cecht.
The god took both the woman and the child from Daniel. His jaw clenched at the sight of Daniel, suggesting that he remembered the bullet Daniel had put in his chest, but he seemed to be more focused on impressing potential followers than exacting revenge. That was a step in the right direction.
The god turned toward the pool, appearing to be oblivious to the wailing woman and child he carried. He walked with care, stepping over the smallest of the boulders and into the pool. People crowded around it, silence giving way to whispers and looks. I suppose it was a good thing that everyone still seemed too shocked to do anything else.
The color of the water, a clear blue, darkened with its depth, and I lost sight of Dian Cecht’s legs. He continued into the well until all but the girl’s head was submersed, singing one note in a deep baritone. He sustained the note as he lowered her all the way into the water for a moment, her mother along for the ride. His voice softened, then quieted, and he raised them from the water. She lay in her mother’s arms as if she were sleeping, her skin glowing golden.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the girl stirred and coughed. Her mother, who had quieted when she went under, let out a sob, brushing the girl’s wet hair back from her face.
“Mama?” the girl said, and her mother broke down, hugging the child to her chest, unable to speak.
Dian Cecht retraced his steps and set the mother down gently. She sank to the ground, quietly holding the girl while silent sobs wracked her body. The girl looked around, confused and not sure what to do.
I pulled my eyes from the scene, moved up to Dian Cecht’s side, and took his arm. “I beg an audience.”
“Shouldn’t I address the others first?”
“As you wish,” I said, dropping my hand from the crook of his elbow and stepping back.
Dian Cecht straightened his already imposing form and announced loudly, “I am Dian Cecht, and I am your god.”
The power of his presence and voice drew everyone’s attention. They muttered to each other and looked wide-eyed at the god. Some fell to their knees. “See what I have done here and speak of it.” He smiled, raised his arms, and sent everyone, including Daniel, back to our world. For a moment, I thought about how pissed off Daniel would be that I was here without him, but then remembered that he was no longer my bodyguard. I sighed. I had grown accustomed to his presence. In my house. Driving my car. I’d loved the feel of his body against mine and wanted more, but that wouldn’t be possible. He would leave my home and be with his daughter. We each had our own lives to lead, and I didn’t see them easily fitting together. I had to say goodbye to him soon. My heart plummeted at the thought.
“Such sadness at a wonderous event,” Dian Cecht said to me.
I started, drew my attention away from my surprising emotions, and focused on the green in Dian Cecht’s eyes. I put a Mona Lisa smile on my face. “My apologies. I was lost in my own thoughts.”
“You requested an audience?”
I nodded and held my hand out toward a large boulder in a have-a-seat manner. As I turned to seat myself on a smaller boulder, he stumbled, righting himself quickly. I pretended complete oblivion. But it was intriguing. It seemed this, whatever it had been, had cost him. I breathed an internal sigh of relief; I didn’t know how the dynamic between the gods would change if one gained a lot of power so quickly. And yet, I still hoped he had gained enough power to interact with people directly. I really wanted to avoid working with him.
I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing at the pain. Damned accident.
Dian Cecht peered closely at me. “You are wounded. I can see to you as well.”
“As lovely as that would be, it will heal on its own with a little time.” I straightened my back and schooled my face into blandness, meant to both hide my emotions and avoid provoking responses.
“It seems you have found a way to attract followers without intervention from those of us that can traverse realms and thus have no need of my services.”
“I still wish you to bring me followers.”
“This seems a much more lucrative option.” I gestured to the glade, referring to the people that used to be there.
“And those you bring me will only add to them.”
He wasn’t going to let this go. That could only mean one thing. The stunt had cost him. Dearly. Which meant he had done it as much to get my attention as to find followers. Damn. And then a Machiavellian thought dropped on me; maybe he’d orchestrated the whole thing, the accident, the girl, the healing, which made me even more reticent to work with him. I had to try once more to remove myself from further contact with him.
“But my methods take time and bring only one family at a time.”
“Another step toward the greatness of a god.”
“And yet I can only bring you a drop compared to the sea of people you had here before.”
“And still, one drop adds to the ocean.”
Shit. I wasn’t going to get out of this. I bowed my head. “As you wish.”
“That is all you wished to discuss?”
“Yes. I must return to my world. I have much to do before—”
The next moment, I stood next to the car Daniel and I had rented. I looked around, but no one seemed to notice my arrival. The police were there and appeared to have imposed an ordered chaos. Mother and child sat in the back of an open ambulance, blankets draped around their shoulders and EMTs bustling about them. Daniel sat nearby on a curb. His head hung, but he looked a bit better; he’d regained the calm exterior I’d become so used to.
I made my way through groups of people and pulled up a bit of curb for myself. I leaned into him and put my arm around his lower back as far as I could. “You okay?”
He raised his head and looked at me. A smile flitted briefly across his face and faded, then he nodded. “She’s okay, so I’m okay.”
“You sure? I’ve never seen . . . I mean, you were . . .”
He nodded and then shuddered as he filled his lungs. He fell silent, then took my hand in his. He turned it over and traced the lines in my palms absentmindedly. Then he looked at the mother and child, but spoke to me, still stroking my hand. “I couldn’t go through it again.”
I cocked my head at him. “Again?”
“Hurting someone innocent. Suzanne and Maria.” He blew out a shaky breath through pursed lips and squeezed his eyes shut. “It was my fault. I was driving when the accident happened. The one that put Suzanne in a coma . . . The one my wife didn’t survive.” The lines in his face deepened, and he dropped his head to
his knees.
I moved my hand from around his waist and rubbed his back. I’d seen this before with many of the people Airmid had healed. Even though my words typically fell on deaf ears, I said them anyway. “Accidents are accidents. They aren’t anyone’s fault.”
“But I wasn’t paying attention, I was fighting with Suzanne. I hit the steering wheel, like I did . . . like I did here. It was raining, coming down in buckets. We hydroplaned. The car flipped. Suzanne ended up . . . well, you’ve seen her. Maria didn’t make it.”
“It was a mistake.”
“One that cost Maria her life.”
“Even with the most horrible of mistakes we’ve made, we have a choice. To learn from them and move forward, or to wallow in guilt hoping that will appease our conscience.”
Well stated, my host. Perhaps better stated than my own argument.
That mirror wasn’t an easy one to look into. And suddenly I saw myself. Heard myself saying the same things all the others had said. The recriminations. The judgments. The fist that had been clenched around my heart since Sarah died loosened, if only a little. And I saw Ethan again in my mind’s eye. Lying in the hospital bed. I’d not second-guessed Daniel’s and my actions, but in my deepest heart, I had to wonder if Ethan would have been shot had the police been called in. And then a worse thought. He might not have been shot, but Mr. Bradley’s thugs might have done worse. I’d done everything I could. And I’d made the best decisions I could have knowing what I knew about Mr. Bradley. I couldn’t be of any help to Ethan sitting by his bed torturing myself for my perceived shortcomings. At least here, I could help someone. I still sent a little prayer out to the universe that he’d be okay and shook at the force of my love for him. Please. He had to be okay. And now I had to help make Suzanne okay.
Daniel and I sat on the curb for a few more minutes in silence. Finally, I took his hand in mine, stood, and pulled on his arm. He raised his face to mine. I wished I could alleviate the pain written there and my heart grew a bit heavier knowing that I couldn’t. “Let’s go heal your daughter.”
Chapter Forty-seven
Power Play (Amanda Byrne Book 1) Page 28
