by Cecily White
“Stop! You’re hurting him.” I scrabbled over to Jack and ran a hand over his forehead. It was on fire. “Salve pacem,” I said, pouring light into him.
“Selfish whore! Look what you’ve done to him. He could have died a hero! Now he’s just another victim.” Hansen’s lips drew back over her teeth, her perfect nose tugged up like a rabid Chihuahua’s. “Dolore magnum.”
“Silentium!” I frantically painted protective wards onto Jack’s chest, but every symbol I drew dissipated.
I needed her to turn her fury onto me. Knock me unconscious, kill me. Something to take the focus off of Jack.
The Crossworld taint had already seeped into her, blackening her eyes to a charred and ugly shadow. It was poisoning her. But instead of falling down or passing out like I would have, she just watched, smiling, as Jack descended into madness.
And all I could do was whisper, “Salve, salve.”
Tears streamed down my face. Jack’s body was rigid and tense in my arms, his lips mumbling words I couldn’t understand.
Funny how the smallest emotions sometimes hold the most power. I had no idea what this was between Jack and me. Heck, I didn’t even know where he came from. Graymasons? Prophecies? It made less than zero sense to me. But when I looked at him, his eyes glazed from the pain, I knew something with absolute certainty.
He could not die.
I’d just opened my mouth to summon a demon and hope for the best when the sweetest sound in the world rang out through the room. It wasn’t what you’d expect. It wasn’t a choir of angels or anything celestial like that.
No, it was the hard crack of a Precious Moments figurine smacking across the head of my psychotic Advanced Wards instructor. I swear, like music to my ears.
The winds died instantly. Hansen slid to the floor in an unconscious heap. Henry stood motionless in the doorway, staring at the shattered remnants of a porcelain statuette in his hand. He looked horrified.
“Nice work, Mr. M!”
Behind him, Lisa tumbled into the room with Alec, Matt, and Katie on her heels. They were clad head-to-toe in black, with the two boys carrying curved swords I recognized from the school arsenal—the very off-limits school arsenal. It occurred to me again what deep trouble I had to be in if Lisa “The Rule Mistress” Anselmo was willing to crack the arsenal for me.
“Darn,” Lisa muttered, surveying the room. “Y’all think we’ll get detention for this?”
Matt let out a low whistle from behind her. “I thought the guards were tough. What’d you do to piss Hansen off so bad?”
Jack rolled to his side and pressed his forehead into my stomach. A light trickle of foam appeared at the corner of his mouth. He may not have meant that as a sign of devotion, but that’s how I took it.
“What are y’all doing here?” I asked.
“Saving the day, of course…with a little help from the establishment.” From his post by the door, Matt slapped a grief-stricken Henry on the shoulder. “Dude, are we heroes?”
Alec snorted with an elvish grin. “She’s just lucky there was nothing better on TV tonight. Nice outfit, by the way,” he said to me.
I glanced at Lyle’s T-shirt, hiked in rumpled folds over my thighs, and shot Alec a nasty look. The sounds in the hallway had settled again, though it didn’t quite calm me. Whatever my friends had done to subdue the guards probably wouldn’t last long. Through the window, the sky glowed a muted purple, streaks of blue and orange smearing across the clouds in a pre-dawn haze.
Katie stuck her head around the doorway. “You can thank Alec for the rescue. It was his idea.”
“Babe, I meant it as a joke.”
She blew him a kiss.
“What’s he doing here?” Lisa gestured to Jack, still quivering against my belly. His eyes were pressed shut, hands clenched in tight fists. Under other circumstances, it might have been weird having a teacher curled up in my lap, clinging to me like he was on the Titanic and I was the last life-preserver. At the moment, however, it seemed utterly natural.
“He’s saving me.”
She snorted. “Stellar job.”
Jack must have been at least semi-conscious, because as soon as Lisa said that he made a sound like a dying moose and rolled onto his back. “Portal,” he grunted. “Now!”
My eyes met Lisa’s. Much as I hated it, I knew he was right. We had to get out of here.
Matt and Katie took up defensive positions by the door while Alec fingered Jack’s tranquilizer gun. “I knew this would be better than reruns.”
Lisa shoved a backpack into my hands. “Here’s everything you’ll need for a few weeks. Clothes, money, some granola bars…and one of those cute disposable cell phones with the little yellow daisies. I’ll call you from a secure line once things die down here. Don’t call me, though. And don’t call Bud…too much surveillance. I told him to stay in Baton Rouge a little longer but they’ll find him eventually. They’ve probably already tapped our lines.”
I grinned at Lisa. Surveillance? Phone taps? I’d trained her well.
“Shut up,” she said, smiling back. “Alec’s dad has political connections. He’s going to do what he can for you, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”
“Hurry up, y’all. More guards are coming,” Matt hollered from the door. “Alec, cover Katie. Henry—” Matt looked at the silent, broken man slumped helplessly against the wall. “Never mind. I’ll take lead.”
Alec whipped his sword around in a sweeping arc as he sauntered over to the door. “See you later, kiddo. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Good luck, Ami,” Katie yelled from the doorway. “We’ll see you soon.”
Lisa threw her arms around me in a hug so tight I thought I might suffocate. “I’m sorry I told them about the Rangor,” she whispered. “They wouldn’t listen—”
“I know, Lis. It’s all right.”
“You’re my sister, Ami. You know that. Whatever you need—”
I squeezed her tighter. “Just take care of Bud for me, okay? Don’t let him do anything stupid.”
She nodded. Jack and I hadn’t talked about it, but I knew once we left we wouldn’t be coming back for a long, long time. Unless I could figure a way out of this, the Elders would do everything possible to erase me…including memory modification on Dad and Lisa if they didn’t cooperate.
The knowledge sat in the pit of my stomach, dark and ugly. As optimistic as my friends sounded, there was a very real probability I would never see them again.
I held Lisa for as long as I dared. It couldn’t have been more than a minute before Jack put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s time.”
“Okay.” I brushed her wild hair back from her face. “Be careful, Lis. Whoever did this is still out there.”
She nodded again, her eyes puffy. The clatter of footsteps spilled down the length of the hall, a stampede across the linoleum. “You ready?”
“Ready,” I replied, my voice tight. “Inergio.”
I held out a hand to the portal, the old wards sparking to life. Ribbons of energy flew out of my fingers, stronger and thicker than before. Heat pooled in a tight column and I could feel the boundaries of the portal as they stretched like a rubber band around space and time.
“Go,” she yelled over the power-sizzle. “Don’t worry about sealing it once you’re through. I’ll close it remotely. They won’t track you.”
Jack tugged the backpack onto his shoulders and gathered me in his arms, flinching slightly when I wrapped my arms around his waist. I shut my eyes for a moment as a familiar current of electricity zipped between us. It would be okay. As long as I was with him, it would be okay.
The air began to crackle, portal walls shimmering in a vertical column of air.
“Where to?”
“Somewhere safe, but not too far. We’ve got work to do.”
I pressed my face against his chest. He smelled clean, and warm, with just a hint of perspiration. His heart pounded like a bass drum in a hurricane, and I waite
d until my own heart slowed to match it.
“I think I know a place.”
Chapter Twelve:
Accommodation
“Omelets?” Jack complained under his breath for the fifty-millionth time. “A legion of warriors behind us, a killer on the loose, and you take us out for…omelets?”
I stuffed another cheesy forkful of heaven in my mouth. He’d been muttering like that since we landed in the men’s room over an hour ago. Not that I could blame him. When you drop out of midair into a public toilet, then spend a half hour explaining to the management why there’s an unconscious girl having seizures on the floor, your sense of humor is bound to take a hit. At least it gave us time to recover.
“Omelets are delicious,” I mumbled around a mouthful of the fluffiest eggs this side of the Mississippi. “Besides, it’s crowded here. We totally blend.”
We did not blend.
Amidst the sea of gray hair and polyester, Jack stood out worse than a Green Beret at a nerd convention. A purple smudge darkened his jaw, and a few narrow cuts on his eyebrow and lower lip were scabbed with dried blood. In questionable Guardian form, he took a tense yet hunched seat beside me, one hand wrapped around the weapon beneath his jacket, ready to dispatch anything evil that might wander in for a Belgian waffle.
I felt like royalty. Massive feast lain out before me, smokin’ hot bodyguard at my side ready and willing to take a bullet.
Too bad I looked like Lady Gaga.
Lyle’s T-shirt barely skimmed the top of my thighs and, despite the spandex shorts and skinny belt I’d thrown on from Lisa’s backpack, my outfit was way more trailer-trash pajamas than retro-chic minidress. The frayed Converse sneakers didn’t help much.
Jack had every right to be edgy. The restaurant was a riot of noise and movement. Heavy scents of coffee and sizzling sausage hung in the air, barely detectable under the fog of floral perfume from the Mah-jongg game raging beside us. An elderly woman with a huge nose and a stiff wig leaned across the aisle.
“So nice to see a girl with a healthy appetite,” she cooed, her blue-veined fingers tapping my arm. “I can’t stand these young things, eating nothing but salad all day long. It’s enough to give me an ulcer.”
“Thank you.” I happily popped another bite of sausage in my mouth.
Jack groaned from his post beside me.
Yeah, if I’d had tons of options, the Breakfast Nook might not have made the top ten. But between this or an Airline Highway strip club called The Rowdy Beaver, I think I made the right call.
I finished my smorgasbord while Jack hobbled outside to grab us a cab.
It helped my headspace a bit to watch out the window as we drove through downtown toward the Marigny district. Bright Creole cottages dotted the sidewalk, the occasional shotgun house thrown in for character. Even the warehouses and check-cashing centers looked upbeat and familiar.
I leaned my head against the tempered glass window, trying not to think too hard about what my life had become. The past, the future… It all scared the crap out of me. I could joke about commitment issues ‘til next Tuesday, but the sad truth was, Jack was all I had. In a few hours, my father would either be imprisoned or have his memory wiped, my friends would be in custody undergoing interrogations, and every Guardian in the free world would be looking for me. I’d never be safe again. And the only person willing to help me was a guy who seemed to alternate between hating me, wanting me, and barely tolerating me out of some displaced sense of justice. If we couldn’t solve this, who knew how long he would stick around?
Heck, who knew how long I’d let him?
Much as I hated to admit it, I had serious feelings for him. No one had ever left me so simultaneously relaxed and knotted-up all at once (except maybe Rhett Butler, which doesn’t count since he’s not a real person). It didn’t matter that all Jack did was order me around and bleed on me. I still liked him. More than “liked” him, if I was being honest with myself.
The problem was, I had nothing to offer. I was a Graymason. A monster. All the things I’d seen when I touched him before…love, marriage, a life together. He could have all those things. He could be happy. Just not with me.
I closed my eyes, a deep sigh shuddering through me. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. If I let it be real for even a second, I knew I would fall apart.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
I cracked an eyelid and forced a smile onto my lips. “Yeah. Wondering whether Netflix delivers to Siberia.”
He didn’t smile. His eyes seemed to hold all the sadness I couldn’t articulate, all the loss I couldn’t let myself feel. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
His warm fingers wrapped around mine, that same strange light glimmering in tightly linked strands. But for the first time, his touch didn’t make me feel better. I knew what it had cost him to help me. I hated myself for letting him pay that price.
Jack made the cab driver take the most circuitous route in the world to the motel. We stopped at least ten times so I could set up exit portals around the city. Parking lots, restaurants, back alleys, a used-car dealership. Jack said once the Otrava fully left my system I’d have a lot more capabilities with channeling. No more nausea, no more convulsions. I’d probably still need a Watcher to dump the Crossworld residue on, but that would be it.
By the time we pulled away from the Commercial Street wharf, my knowledge of significant Latin phrases had been stretched so thin it was practically translucent. Our final portal exit I named denique caelum, heaven at last. It may have been nothing but a grubby Tremé boarding house with moth-eaten carpet and threadbare drapes, but to me, it was heaven. Clouds had already started to gather for an afternoon storm when I collapsed on the bed in our motel room, exhausted and near tears.
The place Jack had chosen was far from nice. Faint light shone through the sheer lace curtains, casting a yellowish glow across the room. The floor was littered with mismatched oriental carpets that let off spits of dust wherever our feet landed. Besides the bed and dresser, the only piece of furniture was a faded green easy chair that looked like it had been swallowed by a Morgra demon and barfed up whole.
True to her word, Lisa had stashed a wad of cash inside the backpack, along with the pair of jeans I’d left at her house for emergencies, a few shirts, and three matching underwear sets (tags still on) that were way nicer than anything I owned. I couldn’t wait to change. After scrounging around behind Dumpsters all morning, my clothes and hair had absorbed the signature scents of the French Quarter—urine, vomit, and alcohol.
“I need a bath,” I grumbled from my spot on the bed. “Followed by a serious de-lousing. Then maybe a nice herbal massage.”
Jack fastened the deadbolt and wrestled the rickety dresser in front of the door. He looked tired. “We should be safe here, at least long enough to rest.”
“Awesome. I love rest.”
He winced as he tugged off his jacket and sank into the chair, head lolling back against the cushions. The smudges beneath his eyes were more pronounced than they’d been at breakfast and, despite the tan, his skin held a gray pallor. One arm was wrapped around his torso in a tight half-hug, the other lay limp against the armrest. If his breath hadn’t been so ragged and uneven, I might have thought he’d fallen asleep.
Ever since I’d met Jack, the one constant about him was that he always looked like a warrior. Whether he was eating lunch or tying his shoe, there was always a part of him that could snap into action at any moment and save the world. I’d never seen him look vulnerable before.
“Hey,” I said, sitting up. “Are you sick, or something?”
Jack’s eyes popped open, then fluttered a few times as he blinked himself back to awareness. “No, I’m fine. Go take your shower. I’ll stand guard ‘til you get out.”
I gave him a skeptical look. He barely looked like he could stand, let alone stand guard against the nightmare hunting us. “No offense, but when was the last time you slept?”
“
I don’t need to sleep.”
“Everyone needs to sleep. What about food? You should have eaten—”
“I’m not hungry.” He sounded annoyed. “Look, we have to be somewhere at nightfall. If you want to take a shower I suggest you do it now. The Elders have limitless resources and we need to be ready for anything. That doesn’t include stopping off for another leisurely meal.”
I pushed myself to stand and tugged off my shoes. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you breakfast is the most important meal of the day? When I don’t eat, I get moody and short-tempered.”
“Is that different from when you do eat?”
I smiled despite myself. It reassured me to hear him make snarky comments. If things were really as bad as they seemed, he wouldn’t joke so easily, right?
“All right, comedian, at least lay down while I shower. You’re already a superhero. You don’t need to die from exhaustion to prove it.” I grabbed a pillow off the bed and chucked it at his face. By reflex, he reached up to grab it, a cry of pain escaping at the sudden movement.
“Oh, my gosh, Jack. Are you hurt?”
“No.” His breath came in hard puffs, both arms clamped around his torso. “Leave me alone.”
I didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I’d been a Channeler all my life. I’d healed skinned knees and fixed up the neighbor’s poodle after Lisa’s cat attacked it. And that was all before age ten. Did he seriously expect me to shower while he suffered alone out here?
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me heal you.”
“No way.” He pressed himself to the other side of the chair, as far away as he could get without actually falling on the floor. “You’ve done enough.”
“Come on. You’re obviously injured—”
“I don’t want you to heal me.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” I said. “Can I at least look? I won’t do anything ‘til you say it’s okay.”
Jack sank back into the chair, both arms still tight around his midsection. “You’re just going to look?”
