To Dance with the Devil

by Cat Adams

  I told him about the research I’d had Anna perform and shared my theory about the reason for the shooting. I finished with, “My guy sent me a text a few minutes ago. He’s found out what hospital she’s in and is guarding the room. But I’m really not sure how much good it will do—particularly against a spell. And if we could find out where she is, I’m sure they can, too.”

  Isaac tapped his pen against the desk in an irregular rhythm, then rose abruptly and strode over to a section of shelving that was filled with worn and dusty hardbacks. Reaching up, he pulled down one, flipped through it, and put it back before bringing a second volume back to the desk.

  He set down the book and flipped it open somewhere just past the middle. Flipping a couple more pages, he found what he was looking for and turned the book so I could see the page clearly. “Is this the man in your hologram?”

  The man in the picture was much younger, his features softer and less wrinkled, his hair a darker red. But there was no mistaking that it was Hologram Guy. I was not at all surprised to see the name associated with the photograph: Connor Finn. The two-page spread was fascinating: in addition to the photo, it contained biographical information on Connor, his family tree, a detailed summary of all of his mage test scores from grade school on, and a list of the spells he designed and executed.

  “That’s him, all right. I don’t suppose you have a picture of his son, Jack?”

  Isaac rose and retrieved another file. Sure enough, Jack Finn was the guy I’d called Suit. Damn it.

  “Where did you get all this?”

  Isaac smiled. “You didn’t know? I’m surprised. I would have thought Bruno or Isabella would have told you.”

  I gave a bitter little laugh. Bruno doesn’t talk mage business with me. As for Isabella—Bruno’s mother—I wasn’t positive she’d spit on me if I were on fire. Sadly, this was an improvement on my relationship with her from a couple of years earlier.

  Isaac’s expression softened. He’s my friend and he doesn’t like to see me unhappy. But he also knows me well enough to understand that I wouldn’t discuss my relationships with my lover and his mother. So he didn’t address it, just answered the implied question. “You know that Isabella DeLuca is the Grand Hag of the East Coast?”

  “Yes. Back when she was first appointed, Bruno explained that it’s a really big deal.”

  Isaac smiled benignly. “He’s right, it is. Well, I am her counterpart on this side of the country. I am the Interim Grand Master of the West Coast. I am also Head Chronicler.”

  Holy crap! Go, Isaac. I’d always known he was a terrific mage, but I hadn’t had any idea he had a place in their hierarchy. “Wow. Congrats.”

  “Thank you.” His expression sobered. “Connor Finn is in a maximum-security facility. He should not be able to work magic of any kind. Are you absolutely certain it was him?”

  “I am, It was.”

  Isaac drummed his fingers against the desk, his expression pensive. “I will need to check into this. I very much hope you are wrong, but I fear you are not. Connor had—has—one of the finest minds I’ve ever encountered and power no less than that of your Bruno.” He sighed. “But he lacks any conscience or sense of empathy. There are those born physically handicapped or mentally disabled. Connor Finn was born spiritually stunted.”

  “He’s capable of anything.” I stated it as a fact because I believed it was one. Isaac nodded in agreement. Then he stood, and I rose as well, realizing my audience—which is what it had turned into—was over.

  “If you will excuse me, Celia, there are things I need to do now. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

  I paused in the doorway. “Isaac, can he do another spell like the one he used on the Garza family to kill Michelle Andrews?”

  “Until I spoke with you, I’d have said no. Now I am not sure. But even if that is his intent, he will need the power of the full moon to do it. So we have some time to prepare.

  “Thank you. Good-bye, Isaac.”

  “Good-bye, Celia.” He raised his hand and made an odd gesture. I felt the warm wash of magic flow over me like a blessing. “Take care.”

  19

  I went from Isaac’s shop straight to the hospital where Michelle was being treated. I wanted to check in with Kevin and see what Michelle’s prognosis was. Watching her in the hospital didn’t worry me too much. The risk of injury to one of my people would be minimized. Not gone. People like Finn were too dangerous to be discounted completely, even in a secure setting. But it would lessen the risk. That was the best I could hope for. And hey, the magical wards around the building would do half the work for us, and there were security guards to help if things went south.

  I pulled the SUV into the parking garage and into the first slot I could find. I’d still have to walk about half a block to the actual hospital building, with the sun beating down, so I slathered myself with sunscreen. I was annoyed with myself for not having replaced the hat and umbrella I’d lost along with my car. Not thinking about them was beyond careless; it was stupid, and being distracted was no excuse. I’d check the hospital gift shop. They might have something.

  I walked briskly, covering as much ground as I could without actually running or alarming people. Despite the liberal application of sunblock, it was a relief when I finally made it to the awning that shielded the main hospital entrance.

  I stopped in the gift shop and bought a little collapsible umbrella and a Mickey Mouse ball cap. On impulse, I decided to get some flowers for Michelle. The arrangement of pink and white carnations I chose was cheery and not terribly expensive, but I figured she could use a little cheering up, especially since it wasn’t likely that any of her friends knew she was here. I went from the gift shop to the main elevator bank, then up to the third floor—Kevin had said that Michelle was in room 305. A small sign across from the elevators directed me down a hall to the right.

  I saw Kevin the minute I stepped around the corner. He was wearing brown dress trousers and a silk dress shirt the color of melted caramel. He wasn’t obviously armed—no one other than the police and hospital security was supposed to carry guns in the hospital. But I knew Kevin; he was perfectly capable of turning something perfectly innocuous into a weapon if the need arose. Or, like me, he might have chosen to ignore the rules and afterward deal with whatever fallout resulted. After all, no one would know, or care, unless something went wrong.

  I spotted him sitting in a chrome-and-vinyl chair outside room 305. Paulie, his golden retriever, lay at his feet, wearing the navy blue–and-white vest of a trained assistance animal. Her tail started thumping against the linoleum when she caught sight of me.

  Kevin stood as I approached. “Hey, boss. Nothing much has happened so far. Heather Alexander was here earlier. I heard her talking to Michelle through the door. They confirmed the ID on the body. The kid’s been crying ever since.”

  “Damn it.” It wasn’t a surprise, but it was still bad news. “Did Alex say anything to you on the way out?”

  “She just told me to be careful.”

  “Always good advice.”

  He grinned, flashing deep dimples. That smile took a good ten years off his age, reminding me of the crush I had on him when I was younger. He’s a handsome man, but the past few years have been hard on him.

  “The kid’s going to be here another twenty-four hours. Who should I expect to relieve me at the end of my shift?”

  “I’m hoping it will be a new hire. But, honestly, it’ll probably be me. I’ll call and let you know for sure.”

  “You sure it’s okay for you here? Sometimes hospitals aren’t the best place for you.”

  He was right about that. Fortunately, at the moment I was well fed and not feeling the least bit bloodlusty. Still, it was something to think about. If I came back to relieve him, I’d need to take sensible precautions ahead of time. “When’s your shift end?”

  He smiled again. “When do you want it to?”

  “Six work for you?”
>
  “Works fine. You do realize it’d be better if we had two people on the door.”

  I sighed. He was right, of course. With two, there’d always be someone on guard, with no worries about food or bathroom breaks. Kevin was good, but he was human—mostly—and Paulie had needs, too.

  I sighed. I like being in charge most of the time. But sometimes responsibility sucks. “I know. I’m working on it.”

  Kevin nodded. “If I need to go, I can use the bathroom inside the room, and Paulie has a cast-iron bladder.”

  “Good to know. But I’m still going to get you some backup soonest.” I knocked on Michelle’s door and was rewarded by her inviting me in.

  Even though it was a private room, so there was only one bed, there was barely a foot of space to walk around in. The television mounted high on the wall wasn’t turned on, so the soft whoosh of the air conditioner and the beeping of the equipment at the head of the bed were the loudest sounds in the room. I spotted a second door, which I assumed led to the bathroom Kevin had mentioned.

  Michelle’s bed had been raised so she was sitting upright. She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Hello, Michelle.” I looked around, trying to decide where to set my flowers. There were plenty of options, since there was only one flower arrangement in the room. Nearly identical to mine, the carnations yellow rather than pink, it sat on the counter by the window. The lack of cards and arrangements made the room feel bleak. I set my flowers on the windowsill.

  The young woman in the bed looked like hell. Tubes coming from bags of blood and something clear that I was betting held antibiotics on an IV stand ran to her arms. She was hooked up to a pain medication pump as well as to various monitors. Her right shoulder was heavily bandaged. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail tied at the base of her neck, a look that didn’t flatter. The hospital gown, faded and shapeless, didn’t do her any favors either, even though most of her was covered by a thin blue hospital blanket. When I’d seen her in the restaurant, her complexion had been warm, with a rose tint to her light brown skin. Now she looked unnaturally pale.

  “You were right.” Michelle’s voice cracked when she said the words. “She is dead and she wasn’t really my mother.”

  I looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Bullshit.” I kept talking, making sure that every word was emphatic as I could make it. It wasn’t hard. “You may have been adopted. But she was your mother. She raised you. She loved you. And she died protecting you.” There’s a damned sight more to being a mother than giving birth. And I was sure that Abigail Andrews had been a mother every minute of her life since Michelle had come into it.

  “You don’t know that.” Michelle wouldn’t look at me. Instead, she stared out the window and the singularly unimpressive view—a few treetops, the landing pad for flight-for-life, nothing interesting.

  “The hell I don’t,” I said with enough heat that she turned to glare at me. “Listen to me, kid. You would never have made it out of the airport if your mother had told them you were coming. She didn’t.” I moved to stand by the window, looking out so that I didn’t have to meet her gaze. “They probably would never have found you if you hadn’t come looking for me. They’d seen your mother meet with me. They were probably watching to see if you’d make contact. And you did.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, really?” I turned to face her. “Let me guess. You think your whole life was a lie. That you can’t trust any of it.”

  She flushed, giving her skin the first hint of real color. The machine monitoring her heart rate reacted to the change in her pulse. She glared at me, too angry for words.

  I backed down. “Look, I’m very sorry for your loss. I truly am.”

  “You didn’t even know her.”

  “No. But I respect what she did.”

  “Lying to me? Pretending that I was something, someone I’m not?” It was the outburst of a wounded child. Physically Michelle was an adult, but emotionally she wasn’t there yet, certainly not when under this kind of stress.

  “Did you ever think to ask yourself why?”

  “The detective said it’s because of my bloodline. That I’m the last member of a clan that was wiped out in some stupid feud.” Michelle’s gaze locked with mine. “It’s insane. I’m not even a mage. I’m a channeler. That’s it.

  “I do ghosts, and I’m not even particularly good at that. I can’t control it enough to stay myself when they use me.” She started sobbing.

  I grabbed the tissue box and went over to sit on the edge of the bed. She cried hard, but not for long. When she was done, she took a couple of tissues, wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  I embraced the chance for a change of subject. “Personally, I’ve always thought channeling was pretty cool. My sister was a ghost. I would’ve loved to be able to talk with her. Instead we worked out a code with her turning the lights on and off. One was yes. Two was no.”

  “I could help you talk to her if you want,” Michelle said. “You saved my life. It’s the least I could do.”

  I smiled at her. “Thanks. I really appreciate the offer, but Ivy finally moved on not too long ago.” I took a tissue from the box where she’d set it on the wheeled tray that fit over the bed. I wasn’t actually crying, but I did seem to have the sniffles all of the sudden.

  Michelle’s next words were so sad. “Did you get to say good-bye?” She looked at me, her wide brown eyes swimming with tears. “I can’t believe my mom is dead and I didn’t even get to tell her good-bye, didn’t get to say ‘I love you’ or anything.”

  I was about to say something trite and reassuring when the temperature in the room dropped like a stone. Michelle stiffened, her eyes rolling back in her head. For a second the machines connected to her body went nuts, then settled back to a normal rhythm.

  “Ms. Graves.”

  I recognized the voice, even though I’d only heard it once, for a few minutes. More than that, I recognized the body language. It was so weird, it was Michelle’s body in the bed, but it obviously wasn’t her using it. “Abigail Andrews.”

  “Elena Santiago, actually. My birth name was Elena Santiago. The girl you know as Michelle was my sister’s daughter, Lucia. I was privileged to raise her as my own.”

  “Ah.”

  “She needs protection from both Connor and Jack Finn. The son is a mere pawn who will do nothing without the consent of his father, but he is still dangerous. They seek to wipe out the last of the Garzas. Their sources have told them that there are three remaining members of the bloodline.”

  “Three?” I blinked at that. “But the spell killed everyone. Lucia only lived because she was born postmortem, after the spell was over.”

  “It killed all but Lucia, the man who cast it, and the child his wife conceived days later.”

  “Wait … Connor Finn…”

  “Has Garza blood in his veins. The feud between the families started when Sherry Garza went to Edmond Finn with proof that their spouses were having an affair. What neither of them knew was that the affair had been going on for years. Two of the elder Finn children were actually sired by Julio Garza. Connor Finn is the descendant of one of them.”

  “Holy crap.”

  Michelle’s mouth turned up in a bitter smile. “I must go. Lucia is tiring. But as of now I am hiring you to protect her. There is plenty of money. You will be paid.”

  “And if I say no?”

  She was as firm as ever in her response. “You won’t. Otherwise your werewolf wouldn’t be standing guard outside her door.” With that, Michelle’s body thrashed once abruptly and fell back against the bed.

  Well, hell.

  I leaned over to check on the patient. I could easily see that I was looking at Michelle, who was gasping in pain. She ignored me completely as she fumbled around a bit before finding and hitting the button on the pump that controlled her pain meds. Her body didn’t relax until the spelled morphine actually hit her system. When it did, Michel
le’s eyes fluttered shut.

  I left the room as the nurse came in to check on her.

  Ghosts don’t lie; they can’t. Connor Finn hated the Garzas more than anything in this world … and he was one. The irony of that was bitter enough to choke on. I had more knowledge than when I’d come in. I just wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  “Celia, are you okay? You look … strange.” Kevin’s voice brought me back to the present.

  He rose and guided me to his chair, where I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. After a moment, I said, “Michelle Andrews channeled the ghost of her mother while I was in there. Abigail hired us to protect Michelle from Connor Finn.”

  “A ghost hired us.” He shook his head, bemused. “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  He chortled, his eyes sparkling with real mirth. “Well, one thing about working for you. It isn’t boring.”

  I found myself snickering. It was a little funny, now that I thought about it. I asked Kevin if he wanted to take a quick break, maybe take Paulie outside, then grab something from the cafeteria.

  He agreed and left just as the nurse came out of the room. I settled farther into the chair, using the quiet time to think.

  Kevin needed backup. It was tempting to stay here and help stand guard. It was familiar duty and I was good at it. But I remembered those pictures from my college textbooks. Standing watch at a door wasn’t going to protect the woman in the room from that kind of attack. It wouldn’t keep her alive.

  Connor Finn had taken drastic preemptive measures to keep me from taking this case. Clairvoyants had seen the possibility of my stopping whatever the hell he was doing. That meant I could.

  That was encouraging. I needed encouragement at the moment. I was feeling particularly stupid and frustrated.

  All right, one thing at a time. One of the reasons for my success at my job—even though until relatively recently I had been fully human, even though I’m a woman in a male-dominated field—is my ability to plan, and plan well. Good planning is flexible and thorough, taking into account many likely contingencies.