The Edge of Ruin

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “Hey, Esse,” I said, and then I stayed in Spanish. “Sorry to bug you when you’re about to go to sleep, but”—I looked around, and even opened the door, took a look into the hall, then shut it before continuing—“I really need a favor.”

  “What you need?”

  “I met this girl. Up at the Capitol. I can’t really bring her back here. Talk about trying to fuck in your parents’ house …”

  “Oh, shit, man, yeah, I can see that.”

  “Anyway, I want to meet her, but turning up with a bunch of guards would sort of wreck the moment.”

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  “So, I was thinking … hoping that the next time you’re assigned to me you could just … sort of … look the other way.”

  He was frowning a little and slowly shaking his head. “I don’t know. If you got killed and I was supposed to be guarding you … Oh, man, Joseph would have my ass.”

  I let my shoulders slump, and I began to turn away. “Yeah, it’s cool, it wasn’t fair of me to even ask. I just thought you’d understand more than the others. We’re younger than …” I let my voice trail away sadly.

  “This girl. She’s special?”

  “Very special.” And that, I reflected, was certainly not a lie. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Look, I’m a cop, I know how to look out for myself.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

  “Please, Estevan. You’re the only person I can trust with this.” And I had him.

  I waited until I was back in my room. I turned on the television, and then pulled out my cell phone and hit speed dial for her number. She answered on the fourth ring.

  “This is Richard.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Americans never take anything on faith. We question. We challenge. We think.”

  The music was stirring and patriotic. The images were of American triumphs—Henry Ford and his assembly line, the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk, American GIs being embraced in France in 1944, the flag going up at Iwo Jima, and finally a montage of space shots culminating with the first step onto the moon. The narration was supplied by Grenier. His voice was rich and comforting, and it echoed with pride. The final image was the notation THIS MESSAGE WAS PAID FOR BY LUMINA ENTERPRISES. The whole thing made Pamela squirm.

  “Little manipulative, isn’t it?” Pamela asked.

  Grenier dropped a hand onto her shoulder. “That’s what advertising does, my dear. This is our setup, our mood piece,” he said. “We’ll start getting a lot more pointed and specific in subsequent ads. Danny has done an incredible job with the Web site, and has literally hundreds of links to scientific and rational links.”

  “You mean like debunkers?” Pamela asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I see a problem.” Grenier cocked an inquiring eyebrow at her. Pamela had always wanted to be able to do that. Richard could. She had never mastered it. She thought it would have worked well in front of juries to cast doubt on a prosecutor. “According to you the magic is going to start being real. That means the debunkers are going to start having a hard time debunking,” she said.

  Grenier stroked a palm across his beard. “An interesting point,” the former evangelist said. “We may need to—”

  At that moment Sam came striding into the living room. Angela was with her, and the coroner’s face was tight with tension.

  Pamela jumped up from the sofa. Panic was hammering in her throat. She realized she hadn’t experienced a moment without fear since she’d seen that monumental figure beneath that plane.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Angela opened her mouth, but Sam grabbed her hard by the wrist. “Emergency girl shopping,” the FBI agent said. Her expression was flat and hard, giving away nothing.

  Grenier pushed to his feet with a grunt. “Sam, if you’re ever playing poker you probably don’t want to bring Angela along. Judging from the strength of her reaction this probably has to do with Richard, and since I take a very personal interest in Richard—”

  “Oh, shut up. Don’t be such a windbag,” Pamela said. She stepped up to face Sam. “Tell me what is going on.”

  Sam shrugged, then said, “Richard’s off the reservation.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Angela broke in. “That he’s slipped away from his security. He’s somewhere in Maryland, and he doesn’t have any protection.”

  “And you know this how?” Grenier asked, but Pamela saw a strange expression flash like summer lightning deep in his eyes.

  “Because I put a tracer in the foot of his cane, and one in his money clip. The schedule said he was having drinks with Congressman Wilson at the Mayflower, but GPS puts him on the coast in Maryland,” Sam answered. “Estevan was supposed to be with him, and I was trying to handle this without Joseph finding out, but now it’s going to be this big deal and Estevan will probably get fired. I was just going to kill him,” Sam concluded.

  “Perhaps Richard has his reasons, and since he is the head of Lumina you should stay out of his plans,” Grenier said.

  Pamela rounded on him. “You know about this. What is he doing?”

  Grenier’s lips worked for a moment; then he said, “Meeting Rhiana.”

  Angela’s hand went to her throat, Sam let out an expletive, and Pamela found herself saying, “You bastard, you’re behind this. You’ve sold us out.” She pressed a hand against her forehead. “Joseph and Rudi are off with my father and Dagmar. Oh, God, what do we do?”

  “You’ve got me,” Sam said. “I’m just as badass as any of the boys. Let’s go.” And Pamela joined Sam and Angela as they headed for the front door.

  “Wait! Don’t!” Grenier called, but they ignored him. Pamela saw him waddling to the phone as the door shut behind them.

  They were in the hall when Sam suddenly froze. She unlocked the door and rushed back into the condo as Grenier was punching buttons on the phone. Sam crossed the room in two strides, yanked the receiver out of his hand, and slammed it back in the cradle.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get to warn your buddies,” she said.

  “I’m warning Richard because you’re going to fuck this up. He’s trying to turn her!”

  “Yeah, right,” Sam said, and Pamela was startled to see her take the former minster in an armlock and handcuff him to the leg of a heavy table.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  RICHARD

  I made it a point to apologize for the venue. The Riverside Inn wasn’t elegant, but I explained that we could lose ourselves in the crowds who flocked to the restaurant in search of the famous Chesapeake blue crabs. Rhiana had sounded breathless when she said that was fine. She also assured me she would come alone. I thought that was nice, but I still had both my guns and the sword, and another reason for the Riverside—I could get lost in the crowds if I had to run for it.

  Despite my warning that the restaurant had all the ambiance of a bus station, Rhiana turned up in a clinging, floor-length silk dress that left one shoulder bare. The color was a peacock’s tail; blues, greens, and lavenders shimmered through the folds. Yes, I had been right. This was prom night, and I was the dream date.

  I looked around at the graying wood plank walls, the photographs of crusty old sea captains, lighthouses, and fishing boats, and the scarred wooden tables covered by long sheets of newspaper stock. Napkins and crab mallets were thrust into small buckets, and plastic bibs were available. Conversations and the pounding of wooden mallets attacking the shells of the crabs roared through the room. The smell of drawn butter and citrus hung in the air. I was going to have to do something to recover my status as dreamboat.

  We were seated at a corner table where I could watch both the front door and the kitchen entrance, and there was a window close by. I had parked my car right under that avenue of escape.

  I brought my attention back to Rhiana as she reached up and pushed her long black hair behind her ears. I watched the play of muscles beneath her smooth skin, and how the movement set her silver ea
rrings sweeping across the tops of her shoulders. The metal had been pulled and twisted like spiderwebs, and trapped within them were scattered jewels, amethysts, emeralds, pearls, and sapphires. I hoped I wasn’t going to join them, caught in her net. No, I was the one angling. I had gotten her this far. I just had to hook her.

  I continued staring at her, struck again by her incredible beauty and lost in the scent of her floral perfume. She suddenly gave a smile that was both shy and young, and wise and mysterious. Apparently—fortunately—my hesitation and calculation had been read as mesmerized. But I needed to say something. Never had so much been riding on a seduction, and never had I been more clueless.

  You’re good at this, an inner voice berated. You’ve talked how many people into bed over the years?

  But I couldn’t come across like a third-rate Lothario. Rhiana was young, but she wasn’t stupid. Sincere. I had to be—feel—sincere. Did I feel sincere? I sincerely thought she was beautiful. I sincerely thought she was dangerous. And I sincerely thought she was the key to freeing Kenntnis, and getting this monkey off my back. I decided I sincerely wanted this to work.

  I sucked in a deep breath and said, “Thank you for your call, for trying to warn me. It came a little late, but I appreciate the impulse that generated it. It was kind of you.” And I reached out and very lightly brushed the top of her hand where it rested on the table.

  A slow blush rose into her cheeks. “I … I shouldn’t have done it.” She got control over her voice. “I got in a lot of trouble.”

  “Your … father,” I said. She nodded, and I saw the shadow of fear and pain in her eyes. I gripped her hand. “He hurt you?” She gave a tense little nod. I allowed anger to show, and it wasn’t totally an act. “You gave up … so much—”

  “What? What did I give up?” She tried to sound bellicose, but there was sadness beneath the anger.

  “A different life. Relationships you might have had.” This was dangerous territory, so I said it very cautiously.

  “There was only one I wanted.”

  I hung my head, but made sure I could still watch her from beneath my lashes. “I know. It was my problem. I was worried about your age, and other things …”

  “And now?” she demanded.

  “We’re in a different world.”

  She took a sip of her piña colada. I gulped down a mouthful of my Hendrick’s gin martini. If this worked we’d end up in bed together. Alcohol had always been part of my seductions. Maybe it would work again, and overcome my fear.

  “I’m eighteen now,” Rhiana said suddenly.

  “I’m glad, but it really doesn’t matter any longer.”

  “Why not?”

  I leaned back and gestured at her. “Well, look at you. You’re …” I deliberately hesitated.

  She leaned toward me, expression intent. “What?”

  “Beautiful. Sophisticated. Powerful.”

  Her cheeks were bright with color and the green eyes shining. She really was so young, and I really was such a cad. I pushed away the thought and concentrated on what I had to do.

  “Fathers are … difficult. I’d get in trouble if mine knew I was here … with you … now. He would say I was a fool.” An ember of anger began to burn beneath my breastbone. My entire life I’d done what he wanted except for one time. Couldn’t he trust me to take what he’d taught me and do the right thing? My breath caught, and I returned to the moment. “That you couldn’t be trusted. That you’ll hurt me,” I finished.

  “I won’t hurt you.” She reached out and gently touched my cheek, allowing her fingers to linger against my skin. She smelled of jasmine and girl.

  And then artifice became reality, at least so far as my body was concerned. Bodies hate denial, and I had been denying the physical for a long, long time. Desire sent heat flaring through me, and I suddenly felt light-headed. I was glad I had my napkin in my lap.

  Her face was very close. It was the next logical move. I kissed her. Her lips were warm, soft, and pliant, but she was so inexperienced, and doubt once again shook me. Then I remembered what I’d seen in Virginia and my resolve returned. I caught her full lower lip gently between my teeth, then allowed my tongue to enter her mouth. She tasted of pineapple and coconut and ice cream, but there was also an underlying harsh oily taste. I noted that it began to fade and she tasted more like a girl the longer we embraced.

  She’s not human. She’s not human, came a nervous little voice.

  Not totally human, I corrected and soothed. We broke the kiss when our waitress came over. The beads in her beautiful cornrowed hair clashed like tiny cymbals. She gave us an indulgent, knowing smile.

  “You all ready to order?”

  Rhiana leaned against my shoulder. “I don’t know how to eat these things.”

  “I’ll show you. They’re actually kind of fun, in addition to being delicious. And they’re a great way to work out your aggressions.” I ordered for us, and got refills on our cocktails.

  After another fortifying sip I said, “Rhiana, forgive me if this is out of line, but you seem … sad.”

  I knew I was pushing things fast, but it was going to be damn hard to keep arranging to play hooky so I could go on dates with the enemy. I needed to seal the deal tonight.

  She rolled her glass between her palms, and hid behind the curtain of her hair. “Sometimes I’m lonely.” She set aside the glass and began to shred a roll. “I grew up in this world. I’m comfortable here. The only people I see are Jack and An—” She broke off abruptly and took a big drink of her piña colada.

  “Jack?” I inquired as casually as I could manage.

  “Rendell. I’m teaching him magic.” I filed the name away. “They’ve been trying for years, centuries, to get someone like me, but once I did what they wanted—” She just stopped and stared unseeing into space.

  I rifled through what she had said and left unsaid, and took the risk. “Because you’re comfortable here, they relegated you back here. Made you human again, at least in their minds,” I quickly added at her look of confusion. Rhiana nodded. “But if they think of you as human you’re not safe.” She turned stricken fawn eyes on me. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to frighten or hurt you.”

  “It’s okay. I put myself here.”

  Suddenly I saw the strain and the fear and her loneliness and her youth. I put my arm around her shoulders and rocked her gently and murmured into her hair, “Then let me bring you home.” She sagged against me, all resistance gone.

  Movement at the front door caught my attention. Three women were entering. Pamela, Angela, and Sam.

  The expletive burst from between my lips. Rhiana lifted her head, stiffened, and drew away.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Pamela had never seen the much talked-about Rhiana. Cross hated her and said she couldn’t be trusted. Angela hated her, but Pamela thought that had more to do with Richard than Rhiana. All the men said she was beautiful first, and then decried her betrayal second. Now that she was actually looking at the woman—girl—Pamela concluded that beautiful didn’t begin to describe it. Here was a worthy match for Richard, and Pamela thought she could hate Rhiana, too.

  Richard had come out of his chair and was wending his way through the tables toward them. Pamela had never seen such an expression on her brother’s face, and she suddenly didn’t feel so confident in the rightness of their rescue. Rhiana also stood up, giving them the full effect of her dress.

  “Crap, if you wanted a hooker why didn’t you say so? We could have brought one to the condo and saved you a lot of trouble,” Sam said in her piercing way.

  Richard grabbed the FBI agent’s wrist so hard that Sam’s hand went white.

  “Shut up!” And it was a tone Pamela had never heard out of her brother.

  “Richard, we were worried—” Angela began.

  He flung away Sam’s hand and leaned in on Angela. “I am so sick of all of you handling me and fussing over me. Leave me the fuck alone!” His voice was a low harsh whisper.<
br />
  Suddenly a woman screamed, and Richard’s head whipped around. Rhiana had begun to dissolve, her body pulling apart like strings of red and purple taffy, but before her face vanished Pamela saw where tears had run her makeup.

  The windows in the restaurant all blew in. Shards of glass stung Pamela’s cheeks, and she felt one large splinter lodge itself in her back. She screamed at the sudden, stabbing pain. People were screaming, ducking under tables. There was a cry of terror from the kitchen, and the sound of an explosion. Cooks and servers came running through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. Flames came boiling after them. Panic was spreading through the room. Richard pulled the hilt off the end of the cane, and drew the sword.

  “Listen!” The basso overtones together with his shout brought everyone’s attention to him. “The windows are out. Those closest to a window, go out that way. Those of you near the front, line up and use the front doors. There is plenty of time. Stay calm. Help them,” he ordered Sam.

  Angela also began guiding people, and Pamela took an elderly woman’s arm and helped her out the door. She could feel blood trickling down her back and soaking into the material of her sweater.

  Within moments the restaurant was cleared; the flames were taking hold, dancing like red and orange fans in the empty window frames. In the distance Pamela heard approaching sirens. The briny scent of the sea was overlaid with the wet heavy smell of impending snow, and the stench of burning plastic and wood.

  “I’m sorry,” Angela was saying to Richard. “We were worried, so I talked to Sam and—”

  “I put a tracer in your cane, and I’m not sorry. So go fuck yourself,” Sam said. Her tone was pushing for a fight. Richard almost joined the battle, but then Angela said, “We just wanted to protect you.”

  Richard abandoned Sam and turned back to Angela. “I am not weak. I am not helpless. I am not your damn child! I didn’t do this on a whim or out of caprice. I had a plan, but thanks to your jealousy and interference it’s been ruined and the situation is now a whole hell of a lot worse. She’ll never believe I didn’t betray her, and arrange this so she could be humiliated. She’s a fucking kid, but a kid with terrifying powers, and you’ve, you’ve …” He gave a strangled, inarticulate sound and pushed Angela away.