by J. Kenner
I nodded, watching as Rose climbed onto the table. "She's why I'm here. Most of it, anyway."
"I see." Madame Parrish stood. "It is a lovely night, and there is a bench in front of the shop. Shall we step out and watch the sky?"
I followed her out, grateful she'd understood my need for privacy. I was a little concerned Johnson would peek out and scare the artist, but since I couldn't think why he would bother, the fear was little more than a paranoid niggle. And even that faded as we reached the door. Rose, I saw, had fallen asleep on the table.
"There's a demon inside her," I said once we were settled on the bench. “I need to know how to get it out."
Madame Parrish put her hand on my knee. "I'm am so sorry. For you and for the child. And I'm sorrier still for what I must tell you."
"What?" I asked, tamping down on fear.
"There is no removing a demon who does not wish to be removed. Another demon could move in and perhaps engage the first in battle, but your sister's soul . . ." She trailed off with a shake of her head. "It would surely be a casualty of such a hard-fought war."
"Oh." I drew in a breath, determined not to cry. "Then that's it. There's nothing I can do except what Johnson asks. And hope that he'll keep his promise."
"I would not put much stock in the word of a demon," she said.
"I don't. But it doesn't sound like I have a choice."
"You cannot get the demon out of your sister, but there may be another way."
I turned to her, confused, curious, and definitely hopeful. "How?"
She held out a hand, indicating me.
I recoiled, realizing what she was suggesting. "Another body for Rose? But—" Even if I knew how, that would mean killing someone. Forcing another soul out as Rose moved in. "I couldn't. I—"
"I'm only telling you the possibilities, child. You cannot fight unless you understand all the rules."
"I couldn't do that," I said. "I couldn't take someone else's life. Not even for Rose."
Her smile bloomed bright. "The darkness that consumes you," she said. “The darkness that you fear . . . I think that it has not yet tarnished your heart."
"Thank you," I whispered, and though her words lightened me, there was grief there, too. Because I'd come hoping to find a way to save Rose, and I realized now that I would be leaving with no answers, only the certainty that I had to keep playing Johnson's game.
"That is not all you came for," she said, watching my face.
"No. I wanted help. For me. For my visions." I waited for her response, but she said nothing, and so I continued on. "They're shared. I don't want them to be."
"You wish to move in stealth through another's mind."
"I do. Is there a way?"
"There is."
"How?"
The quick quirk of her lips reminded me of my mother's easy smile. "Practice."
I leaned back, sagging against the bench. "That's it? No demon I can kill and absorb his essence? No secret magic formula?"
She laughed. "Lily, sometimes things must be accomplished the old-fashioned way." She pressed a hand to my cheek. "Practice. Eventually, your efforts will pay off."
"Right. Great. Will do."
She stood. "Let's go see how your sister is coming along."
I followed her inside, and we watched as John finished the tattoo on Rose's back. Once he was done, I woke Rose up and helped her, staggering and groggy, back to my bike.
The fast ride in the cold wind woke her, and her eyes were bright and wide by the time we reached my apartment.
"So who are you?" I said, as I helped her off the bike.
"Mostly me," Rose said. "But I can feel him in there. He's moving around, you know? Like he's trying to take root."
Her words chilled me. "Don't let him."
Rose's expression was pure sass—and pure vintage Rose. "I'll do my best."
I gave her a quick hug, that tiny glimpse into the Rose I remembered refueling my resolve to protect her. To save her. "Let's get you in bed," I said, trying on my responsible-sister hat. "And tomorrow, we're buying you a helmet."
Despite the tattoo, despite the nightclub, I was doing my best, and I hoped my mom would be proud. I hadn't abandoned my sister. I was keeping her safe, or trying to.
And I figured that had to count for something.
16
Not even a full day had passed since I'd met Clarence at Alice's—I mean, my—apartment, but it felt like it had been a hundred years. The place even seemed to smell musty, as if someone had died there, and the landlord had locked the place up for a year before re-renting.
And how nice a thought was that?
I opened the windows, letting the chilly October air blast in and shove out all the bad stuff, wishing I could just open a window in Rose and shove Lucas Johnson out as well. Didn't work that way, though. The way it did work was both dark and dangerous.
"I live for danger," I muttered.
"What?"
I turned to find Rose staring at me. She'd stripped down, and was now wearing only a T-shirt and thick socks.
"Hey, honey. It's almost four. Go crawl into bed." Even I, who no longer actually needed sleep, was down with that plan. At the moment, I wished I could sleep for days.
That, however, wasn't possible. In just a few hours, I needed to go open the pub. Egan's pub. And now that he was dead, it belonged to me and Rachel, Alice's sister.
I frowned, wondering if Rachel even knew that Egan was dead yet. For that matter, wondering if the police were after me. I'd been running around doing so much killing, but most of the time, my victims dissolved in a puddle of goo. Not so Egan. He'd been human, and I'd killed him. Killed him in retribution for what he'd done to Alice.
And I didn't regret it for a second.
At the same time, I wasn't terribly keen on getting arrested, and I found the lack of police attention odd. It wasn't, however, the kind of thing I could investigate without drawing attention to where there might otherwise be none. And so I was just going to have to wait for the other shoe to drop.
I noticed the light flashing on Alice's answering machine and had to wonder if maybe that other shoe hadn't decided to contact me by phone. A bit unprecedented, maybe, but not unheard of, and it was with a bit of trepidation that I pressed the button to play the messages.
Nothing from the police. But I did have at least a dozen messages, including a number of frantic phone calls from Gracie, two invitations to go out from Brian, an irritated message from Rachel, followed almost immediately by one that sounded extremely worried, then a third one that managed to hit the mark between worried and frustrated, and which told me that the pub would be opening for lunch that day per usual.
I didn't return any of them. Not then. Not with Rose in the other room and me wanting, right then, to slough off Alice and just be Lily, even if it was for only a few short minutes.
Short being the operative word because although I curled up on the couch and fell asleep, I was immediately awakened by someone pounding at my door. I groaned, and glanced at the clock, then realized it was eight in the morning, and I'd been asleep for four hours.
I shook off the fogginess of sleep and dragged myself into the hallway. I peered through the peephole, realizing only after the fact that my visitor could have been Mr. Tattooed Demon himself, and there was really nothing to stop him from jamming a big stick through the peephole and into my eye.
But it was only Gracie, and when I let her in, she threw herself into my arms with such relief that I found myself not worrying about the apocalypse or demons or bizarre missing keys. I was just happy to have a friend.
Then she pulled away from me and smacked me hard on the arm, and I had to start rethinking that friend thing. "I saw your bike out front," she said. "Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick. My uncle was one of the cops called in to the pub, and Egan was stabbed, and no one could find you, and—" She cut herself off, wrapping her arms tight around me once more and mumbling something
that sounded like, "Damn you."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm okay. Really."
Once again she pulled away. "Uncle Tito wouldn't tell me what happened. What you told the police, I mean. Can you tell me now? Or are you supposed to keep it a secret?"
What I told the police? It occurred to me suddenly that Clarence had been a busy boy after discovering the state of the pub and Egan's body and me gone from the premises. It also occurred to me for the first time to realize that demons and their helpers had probably infiltrated the police department. That made sense, right? And that also explained why no one was waiting on my doorstep to arrest me or question me. If I'd already supposedly been questioned, what would be the need?
Of course, since I didn't have a clue as to what I supposedly said, best to keep the details to a minimum.
"They told me not to say anything," I said. "But I guess there's been some stuff going on for a while. Big-picture crime, you know," I added, hoping her mind would leap to drugs. "And Egan got caught in the cross fire."
"Wow," Gracie said.
"I know. Wow."
"So you're really opening back up today? Rachel said she was going to open up for business again."
"Yeah," I said. "I guess so."
"I'll be there," she said.
"Great. I'll buy you a pint."
"No," she said. "I mean I'll come back to work."
"No way." I shook my head. "No. Thanks for the offer, but no."
She managed to look both hurt and confused at the same time, and so help me, I felt bad. Because I wanted her there. I wanted a friend. And even though Gracie hadn't started out as my friend, I'd claimed her anyway.
“It's not—" I sighed. "Well, why on earth do you want to come back? I thought you liked your new job." Alice had arranged for Gracie to interview for a receptionist job, and it had been that job that had taken Gracie out of town the night that Rose was almost sacrificed. Had she been there, it would have been Gracie on that stone tablet and not Rose.
"I do like it," she said, but she started picking at her cuticles and didn't look me in the eye.
"But?"
She shrugged. "It's just paperwork, you know? Paperwork and phones, and all the buttons on the phone confuse me, and I don't like talking on the phone anyway, and it's not like you go home with tip money, and—"
"Okay, okay," I said, then realized I was laughing. When, I wondered, was the last time I'd done that? "Okay, but on one condition."
"Sure. What?"
"Remember that day when we were at lunch? When you saw one of my visions?" That had been a total accident, and thank God Alice had told Gracie about her visions as a kid; otherwise, Gracie probably would have bolted. The vision I'd seen had been enough to make me almost bolt—a girl strapped to a stone table, the victim of a demonic sacrifice. But I hadn't been able to see the girl. Now I realized I'd been seeing Gracie in a possible future. At the time, I thought I was seeing Alice. Some latent memory in my own mind or something. I hadn't fully understood how visions worked, and so I hadn't been vigilant. And because I hadn't been completely on guard, the demons had taken another sacrifice—they'd taken Rose.
I wasn't going to let it happen again. Anything hinky in that girl's head, and she was staying far, far away.
"I want to try it again," I said.
"What? You want me to see one of your visions?"
"Something like that," I said.
She dragged her teeth along her lower lip. "You sure?"
"You wanna get hired back at my pub, that's my condition."
"It's kind of a freaky condition."
"I'm kind of a freaky girl," I countered, making her laugh.
"Yeah, all right. Whatever." She held out her hands. "Not any weirder than getting my palm read, right?"
Actually, I thought it was quite a bit weirder, but I didn't mention that. I just took her hands, looked into her eyes, and waited for the world to pop from color, to red, to gray.
It only took a second. One second before I was fast-forwarding through her head, wishing I'd practiced this trick so that I'd have more control, because right now all I was seeing was Gracie waiting tables and laughing. Gracie flirting with her new boyfriend, Aaron. Gracie dancing. Gracie standing in the rain, her head tilted back, as she laughed and laughed and laughed.
I pulled away, and realized that I was smiling, too. She was safe. I'd known that the future could change—after all, Deacon had seen a vision of me locking the Ninth Gate, and we know how well that vision turned out—but now I knew for certain that for Gracie, at least, it had changed for the better.
"Wow," she said. "That wasn't freaky at all."
"Nope," I said, happily. "Not freaky at all." I tilted my head to the side, considering her. "Actually, are you willing to let me try again?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"I want to see if I can go in without you noticing."
"Yeah? Why?"
I shrugged. "Might be handy." I didn't explain about how if I could be Stealth Girl, it would open up a whole new world of possibilities. Like Kiera. And Zane.
And even Deacon.
I leaned back, considering. If he found out, there would be some serious hell to pay. But the idea of being able to get back inside his head—to see the secrets he was working so hard to keep—I couldn't deny that was seriously tempting.
“Will you?"
"Um, okay."
I didn't give her time to change her mind. I tried again. And again. And on the third time, although she still felt me, she said the image was fuzzier. As if my efforts to shield myself really were working.
I leaned back, smiling smugly. "We can practice more later, right?"
"Sure."
"Thanks. And if you really want to come back to waiting tables, I'd love to have you."
"Yay!" She leaned forward and tossed her arms around me, giving me a big hug. "After we close tonight, we totally have to go out. Me, you, Brian, and Aaron. Nothing major. Just a drink and friends. At Thirsty. Okay? You should get out. I know you, Alice, and you can't sit in here and brood, or go off and hide wherever you were hiding."
"I wasn't hiding."
"And no avoiding the subject."
"I'm just not sure it's a great idea."
"Why not?"
"The last time we went to Thirsty," I said, "I got jumped in the alleyway and technically died." The paramedics had been called, and everything. Turned out they hadn't been necessary, what with me being immortal and all. But at the time, no one knew that. Least of all me.
She frowned. "Well, yeah. But isn't that all the more reason to go back?"
I couldn't help it; I laughed. The question was so very Gracie.
Her cheeks flushed. "No, I mean it. You'll be fine. Because lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place, right?"
"I really shouldn't," I said, thinking of Rose and the fact that I'd entered the ranks of single parents who required babysitters. Or demon sitters, I thought with a frown.
"Alice, come on. You have got to be running out of excuses by now."
My current excuse stepped into the hallway, her hair mussed, a fluffy pink robe tied at her waist. "Who's she?" Rose asked.
"A friend," I said. "Gracie."
Rose took a step forward. "Oh. Hi. I'm Lily's sister."
Gracie's forehead scrunched up. "Whose?"
"A friend of mine," I said. "She died recently." I held out my hand for Rose, who walked slowly over and took it. "This is Lily's sister, Rose, and her dad is having a hard time of it so Rose is staying with me for a while, and—"
"Oh, God, Alice. I'm so sorry. Your friend dying, then Egan, and here I am trying to push a night out on you, and—"
"No," I said, "I like the idea. I think it's a good idea." For that matter, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. That pocket of normalcy to balance out the doom. That moment of laughter to make me remember why it was important to fight the dark that was building up inside of me and threatening to take over.
"I want to go," I said, meaning it. "But I can't leave Rose alone."
"Of course you can't," she said. "I guess she could come . . ."
I shook my head. "Actually, I have an idea." Zane. He'd already watched her once, and I knew that Johnson would behave around the immortal. More than that though, I wanted a reason to speak to him again, and I was more than happy to grasp my sister as an excuse. "After work," I said. "We'll go out for drinks after work."
"He won't like it." Rose said darkly, after Gracie left, and I didn't need Clarence's mind-reading powers to know that she wasn't talking about Zane, but about Johnson.
"Yeah? Well, that's too bad for him. I'm doing his damned dirty work, but I'm not on the job twenty-four/seven. He'll get his little bits of key, but that's all he's getting. Not my life. Not my time. And he's damn sure not getting you."
She licked her lips. "He already has me."
I let out a breath, realizing I'd gotten too worked up.
"Yeah," I said. "I know." I took her hand. "But I'm not going to let him keep you."
Rose nodded, her face pale, her eyes huge against her sunken cheeks and sallow skin. "I want to hurt him," she said. "Even though he's inside me and can hear me, I have to say it. I have to say it out loud, you know? I want to hurt him. I want to kill him."
"I know you do," I said, my stomach clenching with the knowledge that my sister—my sweet, innocent sister—now had murder in her heart. "I know you do," I repeated, "but you're going to leave that part to me." I might not have been able to save her from this horror, but I could damn well do that much for her. And I would. So help me, I couldn't freaking wait.
17
“You don't mind?" I asked Zane, as we stood near the weapons cabinet. I cast a look back toward Rose, who was watching videos in Zane's office.
I remembered what Clarence had once told me about possession. About how human bodies were frail and couldn't take it for long. And I was afraid, desperately afraid, that by the time I got the relics and dangled them in front of Johnson in exchange for my sister, it would be too late, and the sister I would get back would be irreparably injured.
