I didn’t really understand that statement then, but later it would all make sense.
Moving to the door, I did what I’d seen him do earlier and peeked out. To my left was the nurses’ station.
Lots of bustle, but I had a bird’s-eye view.
“Oh! There you are,” came Chapal’s voice. Chapal (ChaPAL) was the doctor that had examined me when I’d been brought in all catatonic and shit.
And then there was a movement by the nurses’ station and a man in an expensive suit appeared and reached out his hand to an approaching Chapal.
I didn’t recognize him at first as they shook hands. And then I heard his voice. Deep. Melodic.
He turned to say something to one of the nurses behind the station, and I saw his profile.
Francisco Rodriguez.
OH MY STARS AND GARTERS!
What is he doing here?
“You see him?” TC said.
I waved at him to shush. The last thing I wanted was for the asswipe to see me looking at him.
They were talking, then I heard the ding of an elevator nearby. Rodriguez turned and smiled.
What I didn’t expect to see was Detective Daniel Frasier come into view.
“Ah—Detective. I’m so glad you could come.” Rodriguez offered him his hand.
To my happiness, Daniel didn’t take it. He only looked at Chapal, then Rodriguez before he spoke. “I’m not exactly sure why you would need me here,” Daniel said. “I’ve pretty much washed my hands of her.”
My heart clenched, and I leaned against the doorframe. Blood rushed into my ears, and I missed what was said next. I could feel TC behind me, listening as well.
“. . . our attention—through my own sources—that you could sign the final paper.”
“Paper for what exactly?”
Daniel was leaning up against the station. Chapal stood opposite Daniel, and Rodriguez was on his right. I was shaking and couldn’t stop.
“You are aware of Miss Martinique’s rather colorful medical history?”
Daniel sighed. “Yeah. She claims she’s diabetic.”
“No claim, Detective,” Chapal said. “She is. But what we’re worried about is that she’s noncompliant when it comes to taking care of herself. She’s repeatedly been back in the hospital mostly through her own fault. And one of Dr. Maddox’s notes on her clearly states that she’s a danger to herself. She can’t be trusted to take care of her own body. She also has a dying mother in a long-term facility, correct?”
Daniel straightened up and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yes. So what you’re wanting me to do is sign papers to have her committed? Doc, sir, I’m not a medical professional—”
“No, you are not—” Chapal interjected.
Daniel put up his right hand, and the doctor quieted. “But it seems to me there’s something illegal here. Zoë might be a bit of a klutz, and she’s somewhat careless, but she’s not crazy. If you seriously say she’s diabetic, then my suggestion is that you educate her and not condemn her.” He turned to go. “And please, don’t call me in for something like this again—” He focused on Rodriguez. “And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a restraining order issued for you to keep your distance from Miss Martinique.”
Rodriguez physically paled, and a part of me was cheering inside. Yes, he didn’t care about me anymore, but at least he would champion me sometimes! Yay!
“I suggest you leave the premises. I’ll be outside watching.”
“Well, bully for the old squeeze,” TC whispered in my ear. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Shush.”
We waited there as Chapal and Rodriguez spoke quietly, then went in different directions.
“Okay, I say we go now,” TC said. “I don’t think anyone’s going to question you with me. But just in case, I’m armed.” And he indicated the holster and Cooper’s Glock.
I was not happy—a Symbiont had a gun. Unless he used it on Rodriguez. Then I’d be his cheerleader.
We were able to move past the nurses’ station—with only a few curious glances. TC nodded just like Cooper would, then we were on the elevator to the parking level.
It was dark outside—and still cold. The days in the South at the beginning of spring were always a lot warmer than the nights. And I wasn’t dressed for it. I shivered as I followed TC to Cooper’s car. And I was pretty surprised to see Mastiff sitting behind the wheel.
Being very quiet and very still.
“What did you—”
TC put up his hands. “He’s fine. Just a Daimon I conjured to keep Mastiff minding me. He figured out real quick something was wrong when I couldn’t drive. So I needed him to drive.”
“Release him. Now.”
“No can do. I can’t drive.”
“No, but I can. Just get that thing out of him and let him go. He shouldn’t be a part of this.”
TC pursed Cooper’s lips and held up his left hand. A red dot formed there—an all-too-familiar red dot—and Mastiff suddenly slumped forward over the wheel. It took a little bit for TC to get him out of the car and propped up against the nearby concrete support pillar.
Once in the car, I backed it out, and we were on the road.
“Oh, here,” TC said from the passenger’s side. He leaned forward and opened the glove compartment and pulled out the Ghost Zapper. “I got this from Randall’s house after I overshadowed Cooper. It’ll come in handy later.”
I shivered again when I saw it. I’d been shot with that thing twice—once while OOB, then again when I’d been overshadowing Randall. Both times it hurt. Really hurt. “So you think we can use it on the Horror?”
But TC was looking at the road as I got on the interstate. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m willing to try anything.”
16
WE went back to Nona’s house, and Jemmy was there. She fixed tea and sliced cake. Joe called the shop line and said he’d managed to get Dags out of jail thanks to a phone call from Cooper. TC excused himself when he learned the Guardian was on his way.
I followed him outside—Jemmy hadn’t seemed to notice anything.
“Your ghost friends know it’s me, but for some reason they haven’t told your maid.”
“That’s not my maid. God, you’re such a jerk.”
He smiled. Nope. Still didn’t like that expression on Cooper. “Yes, I am. I’m going to grab a train back to that coroner. I recognized the Symbiont hosted inside of her—I think she can help me.”
Whoa. Hold the phone. “You mean the friend of Joe’s? The creepy giant? She’s got a Symbiont in her?”
“Well, yeah. You don’t think she’s gotten to her age by staying human, do you? Zoë, there isn’t just one kind of Symbiont. Myself”—and he put his hands on his chest for emphasis—“I’m not like any other one. That’s thanks in part to you. But there are Symbionts for control, those for contracts—like the one that possessed Rollins. But that Symbiont didn’t want to give up the body or the soul at the end of the contract. I’m not sure if Rollins’s soul was in complete agreement with that.” He shrugged. “But there are older Symbionts, part of the first brood, you might say. The Phantasm’s first children. Those Symbionts he sent out to the physical plane to experience life—only, not understanding how the physical plane interacts with the Abysmal, those Symbionts had to find a way to sustain themselves inside of their hosts.”
I blinked at him. “And?”
“They discovered that blood is a good manna, you might say.” His, or rather Cooper’s, eyebrows moved up and down. “They change a host’s body at its genetic roots in order to accommodate their own needs. But the hosts are treated to one hell of a ride. Long life—give or take a century. Excellent health. And a unique craving.”
I blinked again. “They drink blood?”
“Uh-huh. Not my style. Too messy. And those Symbionts are pretty boring, but they are powerful. Like the one inside of that coroner—I think her name is Hebe. And I thi
nk she could sense me but couldn’t find me.”
I was still on the drinking-blood thing . . . So there was such a thing as a vampire. Sort of.
Er . . . not really. But close enough for nachos.
On some level, I knew TC was defending Symbionts, and I got it that they weren’t inherently evil—kinda like tofu. It didn’t really taste like anything on its own, but once you cooked it with something, it took on the flavor of the food.
Okay . . . bad analogy, but you get what I’m sayin’.
I thought of Hirokumi and of him offering his daughter’s soul as payment. And when it was all said and done, it wasn’t the Symbiont that had been evil—it was the man.
The human.
Abruptly, he kissed me. TC actually bent down in Cooper’s body and kissed me.
ACK!
I sure hoped Cooper didn’t remember THAT!
And then he was gone, into the night, just like a spirit. And I had to wonder—I’d never asked—do Symbionts give their hosts special abilities?
Needed to figure that one out.
It was dawn by the time Joe and Dags arrived. I filled them in on what I had seen and heard, between Daniel and Rodriguez, and that Cooper had left to go track Daniel down and put out an arrest warrant on Rodriguez for breaking the restraining order.
What I learned from them was that after I was taken from the shop by Randall and Ron, Mastiff called to see if I’d ever left. He’d arrived at Miller Oaks, checked on Mom, and waited. After a half hour he started getting worried. Jemmy called Dags, who in turn put a call in to Joe. Joe called Cooper because Randall’s van—complete with SPRITE logo—had been seen near the Botanica and Tea Shop.
Not finding them at Randall’s apartment, they’d questioned another SPRITE member, Herb Maupin, who swore he had no idea where they were. But he did confess that Randall had asked him to meet up with him at Zesto’s in Little Five Points. But Herb had already had plans so he’d said no.
“Cooper was sure it was Randall, after he made those threats,” Joe said as he lounged back on the couch with his socked feet (dingy-socked feet) on the coffee table, a cup of tea in his hand. “But we had no idea where he’d taken you.”
I was on the papasan—my favorite place of relaxation. I had a blanket, Jemmy’s incredible chai tea, and my Godzilla slippers on. I’d managed to get a brush through my hair, and Jemmy had french braided it to keep it out of my face. I was seriously thinking of shaving it off.
“So how did you know about Randall’s house?”
Joe pointed at Dags. He was sitting in front of the fireplace, stoking the flames. He’d changed into a black tee shirt and jeans. “Remember how we have a piece of TC? Well, Maureen’s tuned to it—being a part of the Abysmal plane herself. And when he was forced out of your body—”
Whoa! Hold the phone! I sat forward and narrowed my eyes at him. “You knew TC was in my body?”
Dags gave me an interestingly complex expression that meant “Yeah, you dumb broad” and “How could you be so stupid?” all at the same time. I didn’t like that look on him. “I didn’t at first. But after Maureen told me she suspected it, I started paying attention.” He smiled. “Not to mention all the ridiculous talking to yourself you kept doing. So I figured he was hiding in you, and since you seemed okay, I assumed he wasn’t in there to harm you.” He set the poker down. “You’re his meal ticket.”
“That was dumb, Zoë,” Joe said, and set his tea on a side table, just in front of a bottom-heavy goddess figure. He glanced at the big-butted statue, and his eyebrows perked for a second before he looked back at me. “If you don’t tell us when TC decides to possess you, we’re not going to trust you anymore.”
“He didn’t possess me.” Did he think my butt was as big as the statue’s?
“Anyway,” Dags said, “when it forced TC’s essence or spirit or what have you out of your body—”
I nodded. “Then it was like a blink’n beacon.”
Dags smiled. I really liked it when he smiled. “Yeah. It was like looking at Google maps and seeing a huge YOU ARE HERE sign pointing to a particular spot. We checked it with Cooper and found it was a new subdivision in Alpharetta. And there was a house recently closed on by Randall Kemp and Boo Baskins. Apparently they were getting married.”
I watched his face. “What? What else?”
Joe cleared his throat. “Boo was pregnant. Cooper got the call from Lex this morning.”
Oh God. Boo was pregnant? No wonder Randall was seriously pissed off. His life had been taken from him. And Rodriguez was using him.
I explained my theories, that Randall’s little trip in the Shocking Shower wasn’t part of what Rodriguez wanted.
“Yeah, but what could that be?” Dags said.
“I assume it’s the same thing he always wanted.” I shrugged.
“To prove the existence of ghosts—or just the existence of something beyond ourselves. Remember, he and his group went through a publicity hell back in October of last year—and technically it’s my fault.” Well, it wasn’t my fault all his tapes disappeared and his funding went south. “But the joke’s on him.” I beamed. “I ain’t no Wraith no mo’.”
“That’s not really funny.” Joe spoke up. “Not being Wraith makes you a hundred times more vulnerable. He knows you’re not helpless—that you can defend yourself physically. Which is why, I’m sure, he told Randall and Ron to tranq you. But I have the suspicion that his motives are a lot more sinister than that.”
I glanced at Dags. He frowned at me and turned to face Joe. “You care to elaborate on that theory? Your source tell you something you haven’t told us?”
Source? Oh . . . Rhonda. And then the anger I’d felt at the two of them came back. Not as powerful. It was more like a slight thunderstorm than a full-out hurricane.
Dags picked up on it and held out his hand as he faced the wrath of my glare. “Hey, I wasn’t in on this, remember? I was out of town. I found out about it when I got back in town and came over.”
Okay. Excuse accepted. And he did look kinda cute sitting in front of the fire. So I turned my glare to Joe.
“Don’t you get all high-and-mighty on me, little girl. You’re the one running around here with a Symbiont inside of her—one she claimed was like her arch nemesis or something. Her Lex Luthor. I don’t think your judgment in any of this is reliable at the moment. But your beef with Rhonda is your beef. You need to get your head on straight and stop acting like this is some movie. This is real shit, Zoë. You are vulnerable. Get Rhonda’s insight on a few things happening in the background.”
“What things?”
“Not for me to tell.”
He made sense. He was right. But I just wasn’t ready to let her betrayal mean nothing. I was mad. And, damnit—I deserved a good bout of mad.
Right? I thought so.
After a long silence: “I want to steal the Summoning Eidolon back.”
I expected Joe or Dags to raise a stink. You know, yell at me and tell me I was crazy. Luckily, Jemmy was puttering in the kitchen and hadn’t heard me.
“Back from whom?” Joe said.
“Rodriguez.”
“He doesn’t have it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? I thought Rhonda stupidly gave both the Summoning and the Possession Eidolons to him.”
Joe nodded. “She did. But he doesn’t have them anymore. Someone stole them from him.”
“When?”
Shrugging, Joe pulled his feet from the coffee table and sat forward. “I’m afraid I can’t say. But there is someone who could help you with that.”
Anger flared pretty hard—I threw the blanket off me and stood up—and then sat back down. I was still a little woozy from having a Symbiont yanked out and having the shit shocked out of me.
Dags was on his knees beside me, tenderly grabbing at my wrist. “Are you okay?”
“I’m heading out,” Joe said as he stood. “And by the way—Mastiff’s fine. He apparently blacked out while lo
oking at Randall’s home, then woke up on the third-floor parking deck at North Fulton Hospital. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I kept my expression blank and shook my head. “No.” But I was glad to hear Mastiff was okay.
“Talk to Rhonda, damnit.”
I tensed.
He shrugged again. “Just call me if you get kidnapped again. Or maybe next time it won’t be Randall but Rodriguez himself. Or maybe even this Horror thing.”
Joe was through the arch and to the door before I called out to him. “Wait—”
And he stuck his head back in. “Yes?”
“Okay. But only if you’re there. And I want sleep first.”
“Done.”
“And I want a charm or a ward against evil people.”
“Sure. Just use that necklace I gave you.”
Oops. I glanced at Dags. I could just see the chain where the necklace hung beneath his shirt. “I didn’t know that was a talisman.”
He nodded. “Yep. You might want to put it on. I’ll call you later and set up a time and place.”
“Here.”
“Nope. Neutral territory. I’ll call.” And then he was out the door. The sun was almost up.
“You need sleep.” Dags got to his feet and offered me his hand. I took it and stood a little slower. This time I didn’t get dizzy. “I’ll stay in the other bedroom again—if it’s okay. And then I can help Jemmy get the shop ready while you meet with Rhonda.”
I nodded absently, my mind already trying to come up with the best zingers I could think of to deliver upon seeing the traitor for the first time in a month. But as we got to the steps past the kitchen, I stopped and frowned at Dags. “You think this is a good idea?”
He nodded. “I think for your sake it is. I think you need as much support as you can get. Remember—Rhonda still has the backing of the SOI. And there could be something she knows that could bring your mom back, or even return your abilities to you.”
True.
I had to look at it that way—but I wasn’t going to be nice to her.
And then I stopped after putting my right Godzilla slipper on the step. “You’re not going with us?”
He smirked. “Why do you need me? You’ve got Joe to protect you from Rhonda.” He winked. “And besides, I have something to take care of tomorrow.”
Phantasm Page 13
