by Cat Adams
Oops. Using my siren abilities on the man had set off aggression in the woman.
Time to disappear. I tucked myself into a group of three or four others who’d been bold enough to come into the workroom as they—we—all filed out. I didn’t have time to waste dealing with the police investigation, and, call me crazy, I figured the attempted murder terminated my contract with Rahim.
The secretary was still staring after me as I scuttled through the doors to the nearest classroom. It was empty, which was fine by me. I needed a little privacy to calm down and catch my breath. With a press of the button I set my watch to run a countdown to Hasan’s deadline. Though I knew it’d just stress me out more, seeing the numbers ticking steadily down, I needed to know how much time I had.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out Kevin’s cell phone. The battery was dead. Crap. I opened the door and peered out. The coast was clear. The woman I’d pissed off was gone.
I needed a phone. Probably my best bet would be the secretarial area. If I was lucky, most of the staff would still be away from their desks, dealing with the crisis. Luck was with me; when I got to the cubicles, it was easy to find an empty desk and help myself to a landline. On a hunch, I dialed 9 for an outside line. I smiled at the next dial tone and called my office.
“Graves Personal Protection.”
“Dottie, it’s me. Can you use your gift to tell me anything? I need help.” I didn’t say anything specific since there were people at some of the nearby desks, pretending not to listen. Besides, knowing Dottie, she’d been keeping tabs on me via her gift.
“Yes, you do. Badly. But I don’t dare tell you much, the situation’s too delicate.” She thought for a long moment, the silence dragging on the line between us. Finally, she said, “You should know, you need to meet with Mrs. Patel and her son at the hospital before you leave Indiana. It’s critical. They have something you’ll need.”
“What?”
I shouldn’t have bothered asking. She’d already put me on hold. A moment later Dawna picked up.
“Celia, are you all right? Dottie’s been worried sick but won’t tell me anything.” It sounded as if Dawna was about to tear her hair out with frustration. It’s not an uncommon sentiment for people who regularly deal with clairvoyants.
“For the moment, but the job’s gone to hell in a handbasket,” I said aloud. In my mind I projected, Rahim tried to kill me.
“He what? Why?”
The ifrit wants my body—permanently. Apparently Rahim thought killing me was the best way to keep him from getting it. It’s the same reason his grandpa hired the hit men. I projected while saying something boring and mundane.
Dawna started swearing. She was surprisingly good at it for someone who doesn’t do it often. Well, hadn’t done often, until we took this case. “Did you kill him?”
No. We need him to get the ifrit back in the jar. I didn’t want the staff members wondering about my long silence, so I said, “The client overstrained his magic. They’re taking him to the hospital.” I need you to hire somebody to take over protecting Rahim. Someone who will report to us. I’m not turning Rahim in for trying to kill me—he has to be free to try to deal with Hasan, and he needs to be protected, but I want to know what he’s up to.
This was a risky path to take. If the Patels stiffed us, we’d be out not only our labor, but the cost of whomever we hired as well. But my life was at stake and that was worth more than a few bucks.
“I’m on it. Should I call the Company or Miller & Creede?”
“Doesn’t matter to me. Long as they know they’re working for us and report to us.”
“The Company then. Creede would ask too many awkward questions.”
I winced. She was right. The Company is a quasi-military organization with independent contracts with governments all over the world. They also have other, less savory, dealings. If you’ve got the money, they’ll do whatever, no questions asked. I sighed. This was going to cost a lot of money. If Rahim didn’t pay his bill, we might not be able to hire a medic after all.
“Bubba and Kevin are at the South Bend airport right now, getting a rental car. Where should I have them pick you up?” I was happy to know that my guys weren’t too far away. They must have gotten a flight pretty soon after Rahim and I left Tampa.
“I’ll be at the hospital. I’ll get you the address.”
Dottie told me I need to meet with Mrs. Patel and her son at the hospital, but we’ve got to move fast. The ifrit gave me a deadline to get to this cave in Colorado. If I don’t go there and give him what he wants, he’ll start killing people, starting with Gran, you, Bruno, everyone I love.
“And what he wants is you? Celia, you can’t—”
No, but I can’t risk everybody either. He said he couldn’t reach me when I was standing inside an active casting circle. Maybe it was just that particular circle. I mean, it was pretty elaborate, with jewels and everything. But it could be that I can be safe in any circle. After all, he’d needed my body to cross the one on the beach. Then again, that one had had jewels, too—the vostas. Crap. “I want you to get hold of everybody. I want every single one of you to get into a circle and wait this out. Hasan specifically mentioned Gran, so I really need you to make sure she’s protected.”
“Everyone? Celia, that’s a lot of people. Where do I draw the line?”
She was right, of course. I have a lot of friends. Normally that’s a good thing. But it did give Hasan a ridiculous number of possible targets. Damn it. “Don’t. Just call everyone in the inner circle, and tell them to call everyone they can think of, and on out. Better for too many people to know than not enough.”
“I’ll do it. I promise.”
“Thanks, Dawna.”
I need guns and ammo.
I thought Kevin gave you his Glock.
Rahim destroyed it.
“What? How?”
Magic.
“Good luck telling Kevin. I’m sure he’s going to be as happy to hear that as he is when he learns you want everyone to hide.”
I snorted a laugh into the phone. Dawna was right. I could just imagine how well Bubba and Kevin would take that advice.
“You do realize that if everyone is hiding in casting circles, we won’t be able help you. You won’t have any backup.” She took a breath. “I assume the phone you got from Kevin is either gone or dead? You need to get a new one, soonest. We can’t afford for you to be out of touch right now.”
“I know.” I hung up without saying good-bye. Yeah, it was rude. But there was nothing else she could say that I wanted to hear. Besides, the secretary whose desk I was using had just arrived. Wouldn’t you know, it was the same one who’d glared daggers at me in the hallway. Now she was looming in the entrance to her cubicle, her expression set in hard lines of annoyed disapproval.
“Sorry. My cell battery was dead. I just need to make one more call. I need a cab to the hospital.”
Frowning, she stepped into the cubicle. I stood up and she took her seat; if I hadn’t stepped aside quickly, she’d have plowed into me. Turning her back in dismissal, she said, “I’ll have one meet you out front.”
19
Memorial Hospital of South Bend is on North Michigan Street. It seemed nice and well run. I caught a glimpse of Rahim in one of the curtained-off areas of the emergency room. He was conscious, with IVs in each arm. I started toward him, but was stopped by a woman in scrubs who, while pleasant, was very firm.
“Let her in.” Rahim’s words were a little slurred. “She is with me.”
The woman stepped aside, but the look she gave me was unfriendly.
I stepped close to his bed. The circumstances didn’t allow for privacy, but the place was busy enough that there was plenty of background noise. Plus there was a fair amount of whirring and beeping from the machines Rahim was hooked up to, the ones that kept track of his vitals.
“You had them call an ambulance. Why? You could have left me to die.” He kept his voice barely
above a whisper.
“Don’t think that didn’t occur to me,” I answered. “But, like it or not, you’re the Guardian. I want Hasan back in the jar. You’re my best bet for seeing that happen.”
He nodded.
“But, for the record, I quit. My replacement should be here soon.”
“One of your men?”
Seriously? Did he really think that my guys were going to look after him after what he’d done? Hell, he’d be lucky if they didn’t try to take him out themselves.
“Nope. We’re done.” I started to walk away. I’d only gone two or three steps when his voice stopped me.
“Celia, I can’t say that I’m sorry. I genuinely like you, but Hasan cannot be allowed to take over a body on a permanent basis.”
I turned, meeting his gaze. “Believe me, I don’t intend to let him. But why?”
He seemed to consider answering me for a moment, then closed his mouth firmly and turned away, facing the wall.
Fine. So be it. I walked down the hall to the ER lobby. There was a television, but it was muted, and magazines, but none of them really caught my fancy. There were plenty of people milling around. I wasn’t exactly guarding Rahim, but I did keep an eye on the people who were coming and going.
Coming soon included the representative from the Company. He arrived quickly enough that he must have been in the area—though why, and doing what, I had no clue. The name he’d used when I’d known him was John Jones, and while he looked utterly ordinary, he was one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met.
He greeted me with a nod of acknowledgment. “Graves, I see you’re still among the living.” He meant it as a joke. He’d been the one to break the news to me about being an abomination—someone partially, but not completely, turned by a vampire. He’d been sure at the time that I’d either be killed by my sire or take the last step and wind up feeding on people. So far, I’d proved him wrong. But it hadn’t been easy.
“More or less.” I couldn’t match his light tone, and seeing that, Jones stopped smiling.
“Where’s the client?” he asked soberly.
“I’m the client. Rahim Patel is the protectee. He’s in the ER, being treated for overstraining his magic. He might need surgery on his knee.” I reached into my jacket and pulled out one of the One-Shots. Spraying a trickle of holy water into my palm, I extended my damp hand to Jones.
We shook.
It was him. Not that I’d expected a switch, but you can’t be too careful.
I sent him down the hall, but didn’t accompany him to make introductions. I was sick to death of Rahim Patel.
Irritable and restless, I wandered outside. Across the parking lot I saw a trio of people in scrubs, smoking just off hospital property. A little way to the right was a stone bench, set next to a flowerbed filled with yellow and orange fall mums. Making my way to the bench, I sat down, concentrated, and focused on reaching Bruno. Like before, it was a strain, but I managed. Still, with all the effort the mental conversations were taking, I was starting to get one hell of a headache—then again, maybe that was just the natural result of having to deal with the Patels.
Hi, I said in Bruno’s mind.
Thank God! The way our last conversation ended, I was afraid … He didn’t say what he’d been afraid of. Then again, he didn’t have to. I was beginning to understand why he hated my job. It had to be hard for him, wondering every day if I’d make it back alive and unharmed. It’s the same thing the spouses of cops, firefighters, and members of the armed forces go through, and it costs a lot of them their relationships. Would it cost me Bruno? Would I have to give up my job—my business—to keep him? Would I be willing to? He had never actually asked … yet.
This case is awful. I can’t wait for it to be over. And I can’t wait to see you again.
Tell me about it. His mental voice held exhaustion, frustration, and worry. Before my most recent bout of training with my great-aunt, I wouldn’t have known that, wouldn’t have been able to “hear” emotion. Now that I could, I got to worry even more about the people I talked to this way. I’d known things were bad, but hearing his voice I wanted desperately to put my arms around him and give him a hug, to be there for him. That I couldn’t sucked rocks.
Are you okay? How’s your mom doing?
Not well. He answered the last question first. And I’m not okay, he admitted. You?
Nope. Did Dawna talk to you?
No. I’ve got a missed call from her. Is it important?
Only life or death.
The ifrit gave me a deadline to get to a cave in southern Colorado. If I’m not there on time, he’s going to start killing people, starting with everyone I love.
Bruno is a master of colorful invective, but I was still impressed by his reaction. I would never have thought of some of those combinations.
There’s this special magic circle at the University of Notre Dame. It has gems at the compass points. Hasan couldn’t reach me in it when it was active. I’m hoping something like that will work for you guys too.
I pictured the circle in my mind, projecting the image as clearly as I possibly could.
Got it. I’m at Sal’s. He’s got a circle I can use, and Connie has plenty of jewelry.
Why are you at Sal’s? I didn’t mean to sound suspicious but apparently learning to hear emotional nuances brought with it the ability to project them as well.
I like Sal, I really do, but I have no illusions about what he does for a living, and I’m always nervous when Bruno spends too much time around his uncle.
In spite of everything, they’re having a birthday party for one of Joey’s kids later today. I said I’d help out with the magical protections. The boys are already here. Joey and Roxanne went to pick up the food.
It was hard to imagine the party being anything but a disaster under the circumstances. Nor could I fathom why a kid’s birthday party needed magical protections that required a mage of Bruno’s level. How bad had things gotten out there? I might have asked, but Bruno changed the subject.
A Mrs. Patel called—I assume that’s your client’s wife? She said it was a matter of life or death and she offered a good price, so we sold her the vosta we used at the Needle. Any idea what they plan to use it for?
I had an idea, all right. At a guess, the Patels needed to replace the stone that Hasan had stolen when he’d disrupted the ceremony on the beach. But I had no proof and I didn’t want to alarm Bruno any more. Look, I’ve got to go. Don’t wait until the last minute to get in the circle. I don’t trust the ifrit to keep his word.
I can take care of myself, Celie, he grumbled.
I know. I know. But I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you and it was my fault.
He gave a huge mental sigh and I could picture him shaking his head. Baby, this is not yours. If anything happens, and I don’t think it will, it’s not your fault. It’s Hasan’s. All his. You can’t be blaming yourself for everything bad that happens to us. Yeah, that curse mark …
Oh! I hadn’t meant to interrupt him, but his words had reminded me. I looked down at my hand, once again marveling at the fact that the mark that had been there most of my life had vanished.
What?
My curse mark’s gone.
What?!
It’s gone. Disappeared. Hasan removed it.
Why would an ifrit do something good? That doesn’t make sense.
I couldn’t blame him for being suspicious. I mean, seriously, the man’s not an idiot.
For the same reason he took out a couple of the assassins and warned me about Connor Finn’s buddies. He wants me alive.
Why?
He plans to use me. I don’t know for what.
Shit! He paused. Be careful, Celie. That the curse mark’s gone is a great thing. Really great. We might even have a chance at a normal life. But you can’t trust an ifrit. They’re pure evil.
I know. I know. A normal life? Like with kids and a house in the suburbs? Eep. I’ve alwa
ys known that’s what Bruno wanted, but it had never quite seemed real before. Just the thought of it scared the crap out of me. Gotta go. Love you.
You too. Be careful!
You too.
I cut the connection between us before he could glimpse what I was thinking and feeling.
The rush of panic I felt had nothing to do with ifrits, magic, or demons. Bruno wanted a “normal” life. Did I? Was I even capable of one? After all, my own childhood hadn’t exactly been normal. And what about kids? Did I want one? A bunch? Could I even have them, given that I wasn’t entirely alive? If I couldn’t, did I want to adopt?
A whole world of possibilities I’d never truly considered seemed to open up in front of me, scaring the living crap out of me.
I really couldn’t afford to let thoughts like that distract me at a time like this. But, sadly, much of my life is made up of times like this … which might be a big fat clue. Then again, maybe I could change. Did I want to?
Maybe. Maybe not.
I was still turning all that over in my mind when Kevin and Bubba pulled up in a midsized rental car. Bubba hit the button to roll down the passenger-side window and I got to my feet, glad to see them and glad for the distraction.
“Hi, guys.”
“Hey, boss. Glad to see you up and around.” Bubba grinned at me.
“Good to see you, too.” I meant it.
“How come you’re not on the client?” Kevin cut to the chase. “Are you having trouble being in the hospital?”
“No.” I wasn’t, which was good. It had been some time since I’d eaten, and hospitals in general—and ERs in particular—could be a real problem for me if my bat was close enough to the surface to be aroused by the blood. But the whole time I’d been inside, I hadn’t felt so much as a twitch. “I’m good. Did Dawna get hold of you?”
“I’ve got a missed call. Is it important?”
Jeez. Hadn’t she been able to reach anybody?
I was about to get into the car when I remembered Dottie’s warning about Abha Patel. Dammit.
“Park the car,” I told Bubba. “We need to talk.”
