by Kim Harrison
I stared at him, impressed. “Wow.”
Robbie crossed his arms over his chest. “Kind of poetic, isn’t he?”
Pierce frowned, looking at Robbie with a dark expression.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” I said, trying to help, but the small man looked even more affronted.
“What would I gain from a falsehood?” he said. “This is the same sweet innocence looking at me from my memory. That damned spawn survived where I didn’t, but being dead myself, mayhap I can serve justice now. I expect I have only to sunup. The charm will be spent by then, and I’ll return to purgatory. If I can save her, perhaps I can save my soul.”
He stopped, blinking in sudden consternation at his own words, and Robbie muttered something I didn’t catch.
“I need to study on it,” Pierce said softly as he looked out the windows at the tall buildings. “Spawn are reluctant to shift their strongholds. I’ve a mind that he is yet at his same diggings. A true fortress, apart in the surrounding hills, alone and secluded.”
Apart in the hills, alone and secluded was probably now high in property taxes and crowded, right in the middle of a subdivision. “I have a map at home,” I said.
Pierce smiled, his entire face lighting up as he held onto the pole. The gleam in his eyes had become one of anticipation, and I found myself wanting to help him until the ends of the earth if I could see his thanks reflected in them again. No one had ever needed my help before.
Ever.
“Whoa, wait up,” Robbie said, turning to face both of us. “If you know this vampire and think you know where he is, fine. But we should go to the I.S. and let them take care of it.”
I took a fast breath, excited. “Yes! The I.S.!”
Pierce’s enthusiasm faltered. “The I.S.?”
Robbie looked out the window, probably trying to place where we were. “Inderland Security,” he said, pulling the cord to get the driver to stop. “They police the Inderlanders, not humans. Witches, Weres, vampires, and whatever.” His look slid to me and became somewhat wry. “My sister wants to work for them when she grows up.”
I flushed, embarrassed, but if I couldn’t admit it to a ghost, maybe I shouldn’t even try.
Pierce’s free hand scratched at his beard in what I hoped was simply a reflexive action. “That was what my midnight profession was,” he said, “but it wasn’t called such. The I.S.”
The bus swayed and squeaked to a stop. Pierce didn’t move, holding tight to the pole as Robbie and I stood before the bus had halted. I waited for Pierce, letting him walk between Robbie and me as we got off.
The cold hit me anew, and I squinted into the snowy night as the bus left. “You want to wait for a bus going back into town?” I said, and Robbie shook his head, already on his cell phone.
“I’m calling a cab,” he said, looking frozen clear through.
“Good idea,” I said, cold despite my coat, mittens, and fuzzy hat.
“We need to go to the mall,” Robbie said, “and I don’t want to waste a lot of time.”
“The mall?” I blurted as we dropped back deeper into the Plexiglas shelter. “What for?” Then I winced. “You need a new coat.”
Phone to his ear and his face red from cold, Robbie nodded. “That, and it’s going to be hard enough getting the I.S. to believe we’re not nuts coming in with a naked man in a coat.”
Pierce looked mystified. “The mall?”
I nodded, wondering if he’d let me pick out his clothes. “The mall.”
Chapter 5
Bored, I sat in the comfy brown fabric chair beside Pierce and shifted my knee back and forth. The mall had been a success, but Robbie had pushed us from store to store inexcusably fast, getting us in and out and to the I.S. in about two hours. Pierce was now respectably dressed in jeans and a dark green shirt that looked great against his dark hair and blue eyes. He still had on Robbie’s coat, and I swear, he had almost cried when he was able to shift up a half size of boot with the ease of simply pulling another pair off the rack.
But for the last hour, we had been sitting on the third-floor reception area doing nothing. Well, Pierce and I were doing nothing. Robbie, at least, was being taken seriously. I could see him down the open walkway at a desk with a tired-looking officer. As I watched, Robbie took off his new, expensive leather jacket and draped it over his lap in a show of irritation.
Pierce hadn’t said much at the mall, spending a good five minutes trying to locate the source of the mood music until he got brave enough to ask. I made sure we passed an electric outlet on the way to get him some underwear. The food court had amazed him more than the electric lights, though he wouldn’t try the blue slurry I begged off Robbie. The kiddy rides made him smile, then he stared in astonishment when I told him it wasn’t magic but the same thing that made the lights work. That was nothing compared to when he saw a saleslady in a short skirt. Becoming beet red, he turned and walked out, his head tilted conspiratorially to Robbie’s for a quiet, hushed conversation. All I caught was a muttered, “bare limbs?” but Robbie made sure we went past Valeria’s Crypt so he could see the same thing in lace. Men.
Pierce’s silence deepened after finding an entire building devoted to Inderland law enforcement, but even I was impressed with the I.S. tower. The entryway was a fabulous three floors high, looking more like the lobby of a five-star hotel than a cop shop. Pierce and I had a great view of the lower floors from where we sat. It was obvious that the designers had used the techniques of cathedral builders to impart awe and a feeling of insignificant smallness.
Low lights on the first floor created dark shadows that set off the occasional burst of light. Acoustically, the space was a sinkhole, making what would be a loud chatter into a soft murmur. The air carried the faint scent of vampire, and I wrinkled my nose wondering if that was what was bothering Pierce, or if it was that we were three stories up.
A minor disturbance pulled our attention to the street-level entrance as two people, witches, I guess, brought in a third. The man was still fighting them, his arms securely behind his back and fastened with a zip-strip of charmed silver. It looked barbaric, but bringing in a violent ley line witch was impossible unless they were properly restrained. Sure, there were ways to prevent magic from being invoked in a building, but then half the officers would be helpless, too.
Pierce watched until the witch was shoved into an elevator, then he turned to me. His expressive eyes were pinched when he asked, “How long have humans known about us, and how did we survive giving them the knowledge?”
I bobbed my head, remembering Pierce’s shock when two witches started flirting in the mall, throwing minor spells at each other. “We’ve been out of the closet for about forty years.”
His lips parted. “Out of the closet…”
A grin came over my face. “Sorry. We came clean…uh…we told them we existed after a virus hiding in tomatoes—a sort of a plague—started killing humans. It dropped their numbers by about a quarter. They were going to find out about us anyway because we weren’t dying.”
Pierce watched my moving foot and smiled with half his face. “I’ve always been of the mind that tomatoes were the fruit of the devil,” he said. Then he brought his gaze to mine and gestured to take in the entire building. “This happened in four decades?”
I shrugged, twisting my boot toe into the tight-looped carpet. “I didn’t say it was easy.”
Crossing his knees, he rubbed his beard as if noticing not many men had them. Though very quiet since our shopping trip, he had clearly been taking everything in, processing it. Even his words, few as they had been, were starting to sound…less odd.
“Your brother,” he said, gesturing at him with his chin, “said you want to devote your life to this?”
I smiled somewhat sheepishly. “The I.S. Yes.” A sudden worry pulled my brows together. “Why? You think I shouldn’t?”
“No,” he rushed. “A daughter’s wish to follow in her parent’s occupation is pro
per.”
Startled he knew my dad had worked for the I.S., I caught my breath until I remembered our conversation in the bus. “Oh. You heard that.”
He ducked his head. “Yes, mistress witch. And who am I to tell you the profession of protecting the helpless is too dangerous? I live for it.”
I felt a quiver of connection, that he might really understand. Pierce, though, gave me a wry look. “Lived for it,” he amended sourly.
Used to arguing about my chosen profession, I lifted my chin. “I’m stronger every year,” I said as if he had protested. “I mean, markedly stronger.”
“You suffered an illness?” Pierce asked, seemingly genuinely concerned.
I nodded, and then feeling some honesty was due, added, “I still am sick, sort of. But I’m doing much better. Everyone says so. I have more stamina all the time. I attend classes to keep from slipping back, and I haven’t been in the hospital for about four years. I should have died, so I really don’t have any cause to complain, but I want to do this, damn it. They can’t keep me out because of my health. I got a black belt and everything.”
I stopped, realizing not only was I babbling to the first understanding person I’d found, but I was swearing, too. “Sorry,” I said, twisting my foot again. “That’s probably gutter talk for you.”
Pierce made a soft sound, neither accusing nor affirming. He was looking at my middle in a soft puzzlement. “You’re passionate,” he finally said, and I smiled in relief. I knew he would be gone by sunrise, but I didn’t want to alienate him. I liked him, even if he was a ghost. Oh God, I was not crushing on him.
“I’m in the medical books, you know,” I said, trying to get his mind off my bad mouth. “The only survivor of Rosewood syndrome.”
He started, turning from where he had been watching Robbie argue with his interviewer. “You…Rosewood? You survived? I lost two sisters and a brother to that, passed before they were three months. Are you sure that’s what ailed you?”
I smiled because there was no pain in him. The hurt, apparently, was old. “That’s what it was. Is. Modern medicine I suppose, or all the herbal remedies they gave me at that Make-A-Wish camp for dying kids. I was there for three years until they kicked me out when I quit dying so fast.”
The wonder was stark in his gaze as he settled back as if not believing it. “You’re a wonder, mistress witch.”
I scoffed and ran my fingernails to bump over the chair’s fabric. “I’m not really a witch yet. I haven’t gotten my license. You can call me Rachel.”
Pierce’s subtle fidgeting ceased and I looked up to find him staring. In sudden understanding, I warmed. Crap, giving him my first name might be extremely intimate. He certainly didn’t seem to know how to react.
Embarrassed, I focused on Robbie. “I, uh, am sorry for bringing you from your rest,” I said. “I was trying to call my dad. See, I had this bet with Robbie. I said Dad, my father, would want me to put my application in to the I.S., and Robbie said if he were still alive, he’d want me to get a higher degree in my earth witch studies. So Robbie challenged me to call him and ask. If I could do it, I promised I’d do what Dad said; if not, I’d go with Robbie and go to school for four more years. I didn’t figure on him being at peace. I suppose I should be glad,” I said, feeling guilty. “But I really wanted to talk to him.”
“Miss Rachel,” Pierce said, and my head came up when he took my hand. “Don’t weep for your father. I expect he’s at rest, watching you and wishing you happiness.”
“You don’t know that,” I said contrarily, pulling away. “You’re stuck in purgatory.”
But instead of taking that as a brush-off, he nodded as if he liked it.
“You do know the intent behind your brother’s challenge was to prove to you how skilled you are at earth magic, so you will follow that path?”
My mouth dropped open and I looked at Robbie. “The dirtbag,” I whispered. “Well, I’m not doing it,” I said while Pierce puzzled over the modern phrase. “We don’t know if my dad would have approved or not, so the deal is off. I’m not going to Portland. I’m going to stay here with my mother and become the best damned runner since my dad.”
Crap, I’m swearing again, I thought, then gave Pierce an apologetic smile. “What do you think I should do?”
The small man leaned forward, startling me with his intensity. “I believe,” he said, inches away, “that if you don’t follow your passions, you die slowly.”
He was holding my hand again. A slow quiver built in me, and I pulled my hand away before I shivered outright. The office chatter seemed to grow loud, and Pierce resettled himself.
“My apologies,” he said, clearly not sorry at all. “I’ve overstepped my boundaries.”
Yeah, like I don’t want you to? “It’s okay,” I said, boldly meeting his gaze. “I’ve held hands with guys before.” And kissed them. I wonder what it’s like to kiss a ghost? God, he had a beard. It would probably be all prickly and nasty. But maybe it was soft?
Yanking my thoughts back where they belonged, I looked down the open walkway to Robbie. He was clearly upset as he talked to the man, his arms moving in sharp angry motions. “I wonder what they’re saying,” I murmured.
Pierce still had that devilish look, but I liked it.
“Let me see if I can commune with the ever-after,” he said. “I’ve a mind to speak a charm to hear them, though it’s wicked to do so.” But almost immediately his enthusiasm faltered. “I can’t find a line,” he said, touching his beard as if nervous. “Being a spectre, one might think it would be easier, not forbidden.”
Well, nuts to that. I want to know what Robbie is saying. In a spontaneous motion, I grabbed Pierce’s wrist. My focus blurred as I searched for the nearest ley line, finding the university’s glowing in my thoughts: a dusky red ribbon of power all witches could tap into regardless of where their talents lay.
Reaching out a thought, I connected to it. Warmth spilled into me in a slow trickle, running to my chi and making my skin tingle. Forcing my vision to focus, I looked at Pierce. My pleased smile faded. Crap, I’d done it again. The small man was staring at me as if I had just taken off all my clothes and was dancing naked on the desks.
“So you can do the spell…” I said in a small voice, and took a breath as if only now remembering how to breathe. “Didn’t you share lines in your time?”
“Not often,” he said, setting a hand atop mine so I wouldn’t let go. “But I’m not there anymore. Thank you. Let me…do the spell.”
He steadied himself, and while I felt like a whore on the corner, he flicked a nervous gaze at me with his beautiful, deep blue eyes. “Well?” I prompted.
“I’m not of a mind to hurt you,” he admitted.
“Then don’t pull so much,” I said, glancing at Robbie. God, did he think I was a child?
“Um, yes,” he stammered, and I shifted my shoulders when I felt a soft draw through me.
“You’re fine,” I encouraged, and he pulled more until my hair was floating from static. Intrigued, I watched Pierce close his eyes as if trying to remember something. His lips moved and I heard the faintest hint of Latin, dark and alien sounding. His free hand sketched a quick figure, and then my ears popped.
“A moment,” he said, his hand atop mine tightening to keep me from breaking the link.
My gaze shot to Robbie. “Oh, wow,” I breathed as his voice came clear, as if I was listening to a phone.
“Wow. Yes,” Pierce repeated, smiling from behind his beard, and we turned to listen.
“But I know he took her,” Robbie said forcefully, his lips moving in time with the spoken words. “Can’t you just get a car out there or something?”
The I.S. officer he was with had his back to us, but I could see he was typing. “Mr. Morgan. I assure you we’re giving the matter our full attention.”
“Are you?” my brother said. “She’ll be dead by sunup if you don’t do something. He’s done this before. He just made the mistake o
f taking someone who would be noticed this time.”
The man in his wrinkled suit clicked a window on his computer closed. One hand on the mouse, he gave my brother a long look. “And you know this how?”
Robbie said nothing, and I looked at the entryway floor when the vampire turned to see Pierce and me.
“Mr. Morgan,” the man said, his voice thick with dismissal. “I’ve taken twelve statements like yours over the past three hours. We’re working on them in turn, but you can understand we can’t devote all our manpower to one missing child who is angry she isn’t getting what she wants for Christmas and has run away to her daddy.”
“I’m not a crank,” Robbie said tightly. “My father used to work in the Arcane Division, and I know real from fake. This isn’t a joke.”
I breathed easier when the vampire focused on my brother again. “Monty Morgan?” he said, and I nodded even as Robbie did.
Pierce’s grip on my hand twitched when the vampire stood. The ghost’s expression of concern surprised me.
“Wait here,” the officer said. “I’ll be right back.”
Pleased, I smiled at Pierce. “See?” I said, feeling like we were getting somewhere.
But Pierce’s brow was creased in a deep worry. “Spawn,” he muttered, and while I held his one hand, he made a small gesture with the other. I stifled a jump when the energy he was pulling off the line through me shifted. His lips pressed tight, he pointed to the I.S. officer, now bending to speak to another, clearly higher-up, officer.
“Sir, do you have a minute?” Robbie’s interviewer said, his voice clear.
I couldn’t see the new man’s face, but his tone was bothered as he brought his attention up from his paperwork and said, “What?”
