The Veil

by Chloe Neill

I didn’t care if it was elegant or not. According to Nix, there were two things I had to do in order to avoid becoming a wraith: cast off the magic and bind it to something.

  I’d done both of those things. The odds I’d become a wraith went down a little bit more. I just had to hope I had better control than poor Marla.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I was getting hungry, so we sent the Quinns downstairs to forage for food while Nix walked me through one more round of casting and binding.

  At least the privacy gave me a chance to interrogate her a little. I was nosy. Blame it on a lack of television or radio. We had to make our own drama. New Orleans was plenty skilled at that.

  I did the casting but made her wait for the binding. “Tell me about you and Gavin. Seems like you two have a history?”

  “Binding first,” she said. “Talk later.”

  “History first, or no binding.”

  Nix sighed, sat back on her heels. “We met during the war. He believed he had feelings for me.”

  That didn’t sound very romantic. Or mutual. “You didn’t feel the same?”

  “We are not humans. Our emotional lives are different. We are tied to some part of the natural world—of our natural world. For me, trees. There is a connection there. A tether that lasts as long as we do.”

  She dipped her head, looked at the floor as she continued to speak. “Because of it, commitment is very important to us. Gavin . . .” Her eyes went foggy as she stared blankly at the floor, eyes tracing back and forth as if she was watching some memory unfold. “He is young, and commitment is not his forte.” She smiled a little. “He likes projects, but not finishing them.”

  “He was unfaithful?” I asked quietly.

  Nix lifted her head, laughed charmingly. “Not at all. He is curious. He is brave. He believes he loves me. But he rebels against his family, against his name. Because of that, he is not yet convinced of who he is.”

  She was being pretty vague, but I thought I had a sense of the picture. “You refused him?”

  “I did. The time was not right for either of us. He has much life to lead. And even when he is ready, the time may never be right.” She shrugged. “That’s the way of things.”

  It was a depressing way, but since she’d lived a life very different from mine, I didn’t think it was fair to judge.

  • • •

  Since I’d gotten my answer, which was much less dramatic than I thought it would be, I bound the magic into the box again, and she finally let me eat.

  We made our way downstairs, where darkness had fallen over the Quarter, and prepared to finish off the bread, the carrots, a jar of pickles Gavin unearthed from one of the kitchen cabinets, and a bottle of wine I’d been saving. This seemed as good a time as any to indulge.

  We divvied up the food, poured the wine into my mismatched jars, and made a kind-of meal at the cypress table. We skipped the lights for a few dim candles. The less light, the less would be visible to curious people on the street.

  “You know what I’d like?” Gavin asked, sipping his wine. “A steak. A big steak with a baked potato slathered in butter and sour cream.”

  “You could get those things outside the Zone,” Nix pointed out.

  Gavin looked at her. “There are a lot of things outside the Zone that aren’t here. But that doesn’t make that world any better.”

  Since that comment was clearly meant for Nix—and about Nix—and not for our ears, I looked away and caught Liam’s gaze. He rolled his eyes with amusement.

  “What about you, Nix? What do you miss most about the Beyond?”

  She looked surprised by the question. I’d thought about asking if she had a favorite food, but she hadn’t really joined the conversation, so I guessed her thoughts were on other things, other memories.

  “Everything,” she finally said. “I miss everything. It was my home, my heart. Where I came from. I would like to go home again.”

  “What was it like?” I asked.

  “My land was green. Beautifully green, with rolling hills that dropped into the deepest sea, and deep forests so thick and dark that sunlight only barely filtered through to the floor. Crystal blue lakes, snow-covered peaks. It is a land of extremes, but a beautiful and fertile one.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. It was the only thing I could think to say.

  She nodded. “Not all of us feel the same. Some dread the dissension, war, that is probably still waging there.”

  I nodded, sipped my wine in the silence that had descended heavily again. Probably time to change the subject, I thought, and looked at the brothers Quinn. “We know about the Arsenaults. What about the Quinns? Where did they come from?”

  “The bottom of a rum and Coke,” Gavin said, and he and Liam clinked glasses.

  “Let’s just say my mother made a bad choice when she hooked up with a jazz-playin’, hard-drinkin’ Cajun named Buddy Quinn,” Liam said.

  “Which Arsenault daughter was your mother?” There’d been five of them, all beautiful girls with dark hair and blue eyes.

  “Juliet,” Liam said. “The oldest.”

  I smiled. “I forgot they all had Shakespearean names.”

  “Thierry Arsenault loved Shakespeare,” Gavin said, then held out his hands. “Had one of those big all-in-one volumes of it. Used to read it after dinner. He was a complicated man. An interesting one.”

  I nodded. The clock chimed, struck ten. We all looked over, watched as Little Red Riding Hood moved through the forest.

  “The wolf doesn’t come out until midnight,” I said when the clock struck ten and she disappeared into the workings again.

  “Some werewolves came through the Veil,” Liam said. “At least, I’m pretty sure I saw one. I was at the Arsenaults’ cabin—one of the last nights I spent there.”

  “Because of the werewolf infestation?” I asked.

  “You joke,” he said with one of his surprising, dimpled grins. “Wait until you’ve seen the horde descending on you.”

  “They are monsters in both worlds,” Nix agreed. “And friends of neither.”

  That was good to know. I made a note to check the phases of the moon next time I wandered around in the dark.

  Liam stood. “We should go. I want to take a look around the Garden District again. We still haven’t found two male wraiths.”

  This time, I didn’t offer to go. I needed some space, and Liam and I being in close quarters again wasn’t going to help.

  Gavin pushed back his chair, rose. “Get some sleep,” he said. “You’re going to need it after the work you did.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  Nix followed him to the door, then Liam. I blew out the candles—I knew the store well enough to move around it in the dark—and met them at the threshold.

  There was a small card on the floor in front of the door, apparently slipped into the mail slot. It was a business card. The cream stock was old and worn at the edges. KING SUGAR COMPANY was written across it in tidy block letters, along with an address in Chalmette. That was downriver, and the spot where the original Battle of New Orleans had been fought.

  There was a note on the card: LIAM AND CLAIRE, MIDNIGHT.

  “What’s that?” Liam asked.

  “I think it’s an invitation,” I said, and handed it to him.

  Liam glanced at it, flipped it over to check both sides, then passed the card to Gavin.

  “King Sugar Company?” Gavin asked, handing the card to Nix. “That’s the one along the river?”

  “Yeah,” Liam said. “It went out of business, but the buildings are still there. I guess someone’s decided to start using them again.” When Nix handed the card back to Liam, he ripped it in half, then again, then again, and walked back into the kitchen. I heard the water running, and assumed he put them down the drain.

  “You don’t want to go?” I asked when he came back again.

  “I don’t know yet,” he said. “But I know I don’t want someone to find that. Even
accidentally.” He put his hands on his hips, looked at Gavin. “What do you think?”

  Gavin shrugged. “If it’s a trap, there’d have been much easier ways to do it. They could have just walked into the store.”

  Liam nodded, considering, then looked at Nix. “Do you think this is from Consularis Paras?”

  “I don’t know. There are other Consularis who are not incarcerated. But I don’t know of this request.”

  Liam looked at me. “What do you think?”

  “I think we have to go.” I wouldn’t deny that I was tired, but the card was pretty energizing.

  Liam considered. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

  • • •

  I was starting to get used to the noises and knocks of Liam’s truck. But he was much more cautious tonight than he’d been in the Garden District.

  Every few minutes, he glanced up, checked the rearview mirror. He wanted to be sure we weren’t being followed. I could guess why—to be doubly sure we weren’t heading into a trap.

  But we were the only ones on the road tonight, and the only humans I saw during the entire trip. Before the war, people would have opened their doors and windows, let fresh breezes push stale and humid air out of the house. They’d sit on porches or stoops, discuss the day or enjoy the night. But there simply weren’t that many people left. Those who were left were scattered, and many had been too shell-shocked by war to venture outside their homes unless absolutely necessary.

  The refinery was huge—several structures spread over half a dozen acres. Less a campus than a really big Frankenbuilding—a main structure with a lot of add-ons here and there. Lungs of big rusting tanks. Tendons of high, covered walkways that connected the parts together. Mismatched limbs—a building dressed in a complicated brick pattern attached to another outfitted with a completely different pattern. And smokestack feet that punched through the air at the end of it.

  A chain-link fence circled the site, or mostly did. It was falling over in some areas, nearly rusted through in some others. Liam found a spot where the link was down completely, carefully drove the truck through.

  He moved through the web of buildings, watching for movement, then pulled in front of the largest part of the complex, a hulking rectangle of rusting steel marked with rows of windows. They glowed from the inside. Someone had turned on the power.

  “I guess this is our destination,” Liam said. He reversed the truck, pivoted until it was facing the exit again. Just in case we needed to haul ass back to the city, I assumed.

  We climbed out of the truck, and Liam waited while I walked around to his side. He glanced at me. “You ready?”

  “As I’m likely to ever be. Let’s meet our mysterious callers.”

  Quietly, cautiously, we moved inside. The building was empty, but absolutely enormous—a long rectangle of space. The outside wall had windows; the inside wall was made of metal and looked to be melting with rust. Steel girders roughly down the middle of the space supported a spider’s web of rusting beams and catwalks overhead and below a ceiling of wooden planks. Lights hung down from the beams. The floor was pitted concrete, marked by pools of bloodred water that had dripped from the rusting wall. It still dripped, sending echoes across the room.

  Wings fluttered. Sound filled the room as a flock of pigeons were startled away from a rafter. We ducked as they flew over us, disappearing through broken windows at the other end of the building.

  There was another whoosh of sound. We both turned back, Liam with a hand at his weapon, a gunslinger ready to fight.

  A man had descended in a crouch in front of us. Wings rose high behind him, the arcs above his shoulders gleaming like white silk woven with gold, a strange contrast to the decay around us.

  As he stood, his wings retracted, disappearing from sight.

  He wore dark trousers and a white button-down shirt, the sleeves folded above muscular forearms. He was strikingly handsome, with a square jaw, straight nose, and strong brow over eyes that gleamed golden. His hair was dark blond and curled into soft waves. I’d have guessed his age as late twenties or early thirties, but Paras were hard to gauge.

  A woman emerged from a stairway on the other end of the room, her shoes snapping noisily on the metal treads. Straight dark hair framed a lovely face. Her pinup-curvy body was tucked into rolled-up jeans and a red gingham top, and her eyes were blue behind tortoiseshell glasses.

  “Sorry our entrance isn’t as good,” she said, aiming her gaze at the angel. “Not all of us have wings.”

  His lips curled with faint amusement. “A pity.”

  “No need for the weapons,” she said to Liam, his fingers still poised on the butt of his gun. “We’re all on the same side.”

  Liam kept his eyes on the angel. “You sure about that?”

  “We’re sure,” another voice echoed across the room from the stairway.

  It was Burke, descending the stairs in his gray fatigues.

  He reached the floor, smiled apologetically at us. “Hey, Claire, Liam.”

  “I’d like someone to explain what, exactly, is going on here,” I said. “Who’d like to start?”

  “I’ll do the introductions,” Burke said. “Liam Quinn and Claire Connolly. This is Darby Craig, our resident biologist, formerly of PCC Research. You know me.” He gestured to the angel. “And this is Malachi, a general of the Consularis army.”

  I looked at Malachi, took in the height, the hair color. “You were at the Landreaus’ home. You’re the Para I saw in the garden.”

  He nodded. “Yes. I was watching them.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d been in the neighborhood, walking, keeping an eye out for those who might need help. I saw two Containment vehicles speed by. I followed them, discovered why they’d been called, and wanted a look at the grounds for myself, just in case.”

  “She said you were a general,” Liam said. “You were conscripted?”

  “I was.”

  “And did you fight?”

  Malachi’s expression remained blank. “I was not allowed to fight. I was imprisoned, used, and for a period, tortured. But I did not fight.”

  I glanced at Burke, and my expression wasn’t friendly. I could respect sneakiness. But not if he’d hurt Tadji. “You’re next. Explain.”

  “I’m a Sensitive, and I’ve been looking for others. I didn’t know your father, but I knew he was a Sensitive. Sometimes it’s genetic, so I wanted to check you out.”

  It was a good thing Liam had told me about my father; otherwise, I’d be finding out here, in an abandoned sugar refinery. “And?”

  Burke smiled. “I’m not yet sure. If you’ve got something, you’ve been keeping it quiet.”

  “I am a Sensitive,” I said. “Eight months in. I can move things.”

  “That’s handy,” Burke said, eyes alight with interest.

  “It has its moments.” Some good, some bad. But speaking of interest . . . “What’s your interest in Tadji?”

  His smile softened. It was a pretty good smile. “A beautiful coincidence. I wanted to get closer to you. But I wanted to ask her to dance.”

  Not entirely a compliment to me, but he looked like he was telling the truth.

  “What’s your power?” I asked.

  “This,” he said.

  I’d visited a carnival with friends in junior high, had walked through the Haunted House of Mysterious Mirrors on a dare. It wasn’t that haunted, and there weren’t that many mirrors—three or four that distorted our reflections, so we looked taller or wider or stockier with superlong legs.

  Burke’s body warped just like that—ripples that moved up and down his legs, torso, and arms as if he were standing in front of a carnival mirror. Except there was no mirror. And then suddenly, there was no Burke.

  He’d disappeared.

  I stared at the now-empty spot where he’d stood, walked forward, peered into the gap where he’d been. There was nothing there.

  And when he grabbed my wri
st, I nearly backhanded him. There were more ripples, and then he shimmered back into focus, his hand on my arm, grinning like a maniac.

  I just stared at him. “Invisibility. That’s pretty amazing.”

  He let go of my arm, shifted his gaze back to Liam. “It’s actually just camouflage on a really detailed level.”

  “I call it ‘nanoflage,’” Darby put in. “Nano-level camouflage. Magic does very weird things to the human body.”

  “So I see.” And since he didn’t look weak or hungry, I guessed that wasn’t the only skill he’d mastered. “You can cast and bind?”

  His smile went serious. This was the business of Sensitives, the most important tools in our arsenal. The things that kept us sane. “I can. You?”

  “I’m learning.”

  “Good,” Burke said. “That process will get easier. The goal is consistency.”

  It occurred to me Burke was the first Sensitive I’d actually been able to talk to about being a Sensitive. It made me feel a little better—knowing I had someone who’d been down the road before.

  “How did Materiel end up hiring a Sensitive?” Liam asked.

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Burke said. “They don’t know. And, speaking of PCC, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about—we understand you talked to Lorene Salas today.”

  So they were the “PCC” reps who’d talked to her family.

  “We took her daughter in last night,” Liam confirmed.

  Burke nodded. “Lorene talked to Lizzie, who told her you were very good with Marla. Very gentle with her.”

  “We got lucky,” Liam said, gestured to me. “Claire handled her, and handled her well. You’re Marla’s friends?”

  “I was,” Darby said. “I knew she was a Sensitive, and hadn’t seen her in a few days. That’s when I went to visit her mother.”

  “What took you there?” Burke asked.

  “We found her nest,” Liam said. “We’d gone back to check it out, see if we could find any evidence.”

  “Of?” Malachi asked.

  “Wraith attacks are increasing,” I said. “Liam’s been tracking them. There have been more, and wraiths seem to be acting more like humans. We’re trying to figure out why.”