by Evelyn Snow
“But what the heck—we get to live—right?”
He widened his eyes. “Isn’t that the most important part? Or are you willing to risk your life for whatever we’ve got here?”
“Are you insane? You’re actually considering this?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“Yes. We wait until morning.”
“That’s not a solution. It’s a delay.”
I didn’t answer.
He waited, eying the vampire lurking in the darkness. “What do you want to do? I need to know.”
“I’ll tell you after the sun comes up.”
“What if it’s a bad idea? We’ll only be putting off the inevitable.”
I glared at him. “Since when do I have bad ideas?”
Holden smirked. “Who thought learning to trans-locate in the Greater World would be fun?”
“It would come in handy right about now—just saying.”
“Only if it were possible in the Greater World, which it is not.” His smirk turned into a scowl. “Oh wait, we’ve got eight hours to come up with a work-around. Where do you want to start?”
“You could start with not answering everything I say with a question,” I snapped.
We both looked up as Zen approached the car, leaned down and peered through the window. “Fair warning, the longer you delay, the worse it will be for you.”
Holden covered my hand with his. “Are you sure your idea will work?”
The vampire’s pale face loomed through the glass of the driver’s side window.
“It’ll work.”
Chapter 22
Spending the night trapped in a car without a working radio or cell service was mind-numbingly dull. The only thing I had to be grateful for was that Holden didn’t make good on his promise of revisiting every bad idea I’d ever had.
Even though we were stuck in about twenty-square feet by a single-minded vampire, our general terror faded fast. We’d already heard each other’s stories, even the second-rate versions trotted out on rare occasions or for a fresh audience.
Worse, every little thing Holden did annoyed me. Dumb stuff, like the way he tapped the steering wheel with his fingers or sucked his teeth. Was this what it was like to be an old married couple? If it was, it seemed unfair to have skipped the fun dating and honeymoon phase and jumped straight into the “golden” years.
A witch-astrologer once told me my chart was perfect for love affairs, but terrible for long-term partnership. If that was true, what happened to all the great affairs? The stars were holding out on me.
When our pathetic attempts at conversation failed utterly, Holden claimed the front seat while I crawled into the back. At some point, I fell asleep and dreamed about vampires and blood red rose petals and disappearing white cats…
…until the vampire’s fist slammed into the car window.
Miraculously, the glass didn’t shatter under the force of the blow. While the vehicle rocked from side to side, I plastered myself against the back seat. Holden shot sideways across the front, scrambling to get away from the driver’s side and the furious vampire.
“Remind me to ask your dad where he got those chains,” I whispered while the first rays of dawn broke through the branches overhead and cut the shadows. Relief flooded through me that we’d survived the night.
The vampire wasn’t doing so well. Where daylight touched him, steam rose from his skin. When he spoke, it was through teeth gritted against the pain. “You have until full dark tonight to sign the agreement. After that … you’re mine.” His body wavered, blinking in and out of view, and then vanished.
Sometime later after I’d crawled back into the front seat, Holden asked, “What was that about a plan?”
“It’s not a plan so much as an idea.”
“Which is?”
“We talk to Morrigan Shade.”
His gaze sharp, Holden focused on me. “What do you expect—better terms on the deal?”
“No deal.”
He turned away, stared out the window, and then gave me a side glance but remained silent.
“Holden, a deal is out of the question. You get that, right? We’d both be facing first degree felonies once Fiona Storm got her hands on us.”
“If you’re worried about Fiona, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“What do you suggest then?”
“It’s pretty simple.” He flipped the car keys end over end in his fingers. “We sign and walk away. The upside is that we stay above ground another day. No one we care about gets hurt. As for criminal charges, who exactly will bring them? I seriously doubt Morrigan Shade will turn us in. Zen? Hardly. No one on the other side can hurt us. They can’t help us, either.”
My skin prickled at his words. “No.”
He shrugged. “This is the Greater World, Evie, where magic is a new and valuable commodity. Law enforcement has no effective deterrence. The bridge is closed until further notice, which could be days or weeks or even longer. I’m all the backup you’ve got. If Fiona Storm herself were here, what could she do?”
I wasn’t convinced the MBI didn’t have a presence in the Greater World. My hunch grew from two factors. One went back to Ballard and the Cal Guard incident. It was obvious Ballard had been tipped off.
The second came from my conversation with Dylan Maddox. The ODiN agent had put more effort into snowing me than in sharing information. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t believe I had sources he lacked.
Suspecting there were other agents out there was not particularly comforting in our current circumstances.
A sense of futility settled over me while I stared out the window. I wanted to tell Holden signing the contract would be disastrous and list all the reasons, except I couldn’t come up with anything concrete. I lacked clear answers, and as long as Holden helped me, I was putting him in terrible danger.
Finally, I said, “I’ll think about signing. At least let me ask Mo to get a message to Sullivan first. We’ve got until sundown tonight.”
He put the key in the ignition. “What makes you think Mo can do that when the bridge is closed?”
“Remember Kerri talking about deals between Montemar and Serenity Point? If the law firm has offices in both locations, they must have a way of communicating. If they didn’t, it would be almost impossible to conduct business.”
Holden studied me, clearly unconvinced. “Mo wrote the contract. That means she’s working for Zen or the vampire’s employer. Who knows? She might keep Zen on retainer. Why should she help us?”
“I’ll tell her I need proof regarding the ownership claims in the contract. That proof will have to be sent to Sullivan to get his okay before releasing the magic to its legal owner. I’ll tell her I haven’t had my badge long enough to act on my own. It’s close enough to the truth.” It would also protect us on the off-chance Zen, or his employer had a valid claim.
Holden turned engine over. “Sullivan will never agree.”
“Mo doesn’t need to know that. When we come to her, she’ll assume she’s succeeding where a vampire failed. She’s too Type-A to pass up an easy win that makes her look smarter than she is. Who knows? We might find out the name of her client.”
“Which helps us how?” Holden pressed the accelerator and eased the car into the driving lane.
“Depends on who it is. I’ll know more when I see Mo face-to-face and can tell if she’s lying.”
“The law office won’t open for a couple of hours. Want to get cleaned up first?”
It was a good idea, so we headed for my house. I needed time to think.
I wasn’t ready to talk about the puzzle pieces that had been piling up: Zen and Professor Ashmore; the Mercedes and Tony at Rolling Thunder; spectral disorder and explosions and a dead wizard; a witch who was more than a witch. As a collection, the pieces appeared suspicious. They seemed random, and I couldn’t see how they fit together. Yet.
“Was Tony that buddy of yours who
worked at the Whitfield Clinic back in the day?”
“Yeah,” Holden said in surprise as we turned down my street. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess.”
* * *
Holden pulled all the way up the driveway to park with the nose of the Ford close to the garage door. We weren’t worried about Zen as long as the sun was shining. It still seemed prudent to keep a red vintage car draped in enchanted chains and loaded with toxic magic from attracting unwanted attention—if that was even possible.
As I climbed through the passenger side window and jumped to the ground, a sharp cracking sound echoed from the backyard. It had been a gunshot, no mistake.
I reached through the window, grabbed the tire iron, and ran for the gate leading into the yard. Holden was already there. “Go around front. Make sure no one escapes from the other side.”
We hadn’t been followed. Even though Tony and Zen had been watching my house from across the street at Rolling Thunder, Zen had already made his move and issued his ultimatum. There wasn’t anything to gain now by hurting my aunt and uncle. He’d already proven he had no trouble finding us.
Maybe it was something unrelated to my assignment. Editorials my uncle had written over the years, especially ones concerning Disclosure, had earned him enemies on all sides of the issue. He’d received death threats in the past. It was possible Aunt Phoebe’s paranoia had been warranted, although I refused to believe the neighborhood watch had upgraded from binoculars to handguns.
The wooden gate clicked softly when I pulled on the latch and pushed through, leaving it open behind me. Scanning the expanse of the yard revealed nothing but the orange tabby from next door perched on the back fence. Aunt Phoebe’s half-sized wheelbarrow sat next to the rose bed containing her Charlotte Armstrongs. On the grass next to it, a pair of gloves, kneepads, and a trowel. Red petals and thorny green clippings scattered over the ground.
I didn’t like that the shed door stood open. Not enough room to run right or left. Only retreat with the house behind me and the gate on the other side of the yard. I’d be making a target of myself to march over there and stand in the opening.
Across the yard, I ran, keeping low with the tire iron close to my body. It wasn’t a wand, but in close quarters, it could prove effective. I eased against the side of the shed, edging slowly around the corner toward the open door.
Someone was inside. One or two? They were silent. No scent of blood or death. My heart beat like a parade drum. Fear clogged my throat. If anyone had hurt Uncle Delano or Aunt Phoebe, they’d find out who they were dealing with. I knew what I’d do. Devi had put me through training sessions. Fighting like a witch wasn’t about muscles or sheer strength. It was ballet in a thunderstorm. Lightning might come from the ground or light the sky. Wind and rain could needle downward or sweep sideways. The point was to make power follow your will to overcome your opponent and walk away unscathed.
Six more inches. I paused, listening, struggling to slow my heartbeat and my breaths.
A woman’s scream rang out, high-pitched and filled with terror. “It’s right there!”
Bolting through the door, I lifted my weapon, ready to strike, only to skid to a halt, staring down the barrel of a gun.
Chapter 23
The smell of cordite filled the air.
Several things happened at once: Uncle Delano yelled, Aunt Phoebe dropped the gun, and it clattered on the floor. I started breathing again.
My aunt’s gaze locked onto the tire iron. It was still in my hands and raised, as if I was standing on home base waiting for a pitch.
“Are you going to hit me with that thing?” she demanded.
“Are you going to explain the gun?”
“Evie, please.” My uncle wrapped an arm around his wife who shrugged him off. He shot her a look before saying, “This is all a misunderstanding.”
I lowered the tire iron. “With a gun?”
Aunt Phoebe said, “I was weeding.”
“WITH A GUN?”
“Well, of course not, that would be ridiculous, not to mention bad for the weapon. They’re not cheap, you know.”
The adrenaline that had been fueling me tanked, and I sank onto the daybed. I was still hanging onto the tire iron though.
My uncle sat next to me. Aunt Phoebe plucked the gun off the floor with two fingers and placed it on the desk but remained standing. She folded her arms and regarded the two of us as if we’d both made a fatal error.
The dynamic had shifted without warning, and I was lost. “Somebody start talking. Anywhere is good.”
Aunt Phoebe spoke first. “I’m sorry about pointing the gun at you, but you didn’t come home last night, sweetheart. We were worried. You said you’d turned over a new leaf.”
“What I said about starting anywhere? That was a mistake—start with the gun. Since when does this family have a gun?” I turned to my uncle for an answer.
He lifted his palms in surrender. “I’ll admit to purchasing the gun. It wasn’t for this purpose. I didn’t know she had the combination to the safe.”
Aunt Phoebe shook a finger at him. “You promised me you got rid of it. You swore on your mother’s name it was gone. You promised I’d never have to be afraid in my home again.”
“What were you thinking?” he shouted. “When you dropped the gun, you could have blown someone’s foot off or worse. Thank God you didn’t shoot Evie!” My uncle swore under his breath
“You lied to me, Delano Jinx. If I took matters into my own hands, you have only yourself to blame.”
All the oxygen left the shed and my uncle was on his feet, his face red. “I did no such thing. Don’t you dare accuse me of lying.”
“So, I’m delusional? After twenty-eight years, that’s all you think of me?” Hugging her cardigan close around her body, Aunt Phoebe put the desk between her and Uncle Delano. “I saw what I saw, and I’m not crazy. I don’t care what you say, I saw that monster. Then I did what I had to do. You may have lost your power, but I will not be held hostage in my own house—or yard.”
I leveled the two people I loved most in the world with a murderous gaze. “What is going on? I need answers and I need them now. If you two want to kill each other, have at it—just not right now.”
“Let him tell you. It’s his fault. If he’d done what he promised, none of this would have happened.” She dropped into the desk chair, glaring at her husband. “And for your information, I’ve always had the combination to the safe. You gave it to me because you told me you’d forget it—or did you forget that, too?”
“Phoebe,” my uncle growled, “give it a rest. Let me talk with Evie. Meanwhile, why don’t you put that”—he gestured at the gun—“back in the safe where it belongs.”
Reluctantly, she stood and picked up the gun, making a show of thumbing the safety. A muscle jumped in Uncle Delano’s jaw.
“Holden is out front, Aunt Phoebe. Will you please tell him everything’s okay?”
She made a disgusted sound, but nodded, and then stalked out of the shed like an angry queen.
I looked at my uncle expectantly. “This ought to be good. What was Aunt Phoebe trying to kill? I’m assuming it wasn’t you, mostly because at this range I don’t see how she could have missed. Please don’t tell me I’m wrong. My heart couldn’t take the stress.”
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was still in his pajamas, barefoot, and must have run from the house without taking time to put on slippers or a robe.
Resting one hip on the edge of the desk, he said, “I never wanted to have this conversation with you, but it looks like the time has come. No rest for the guilty as they say. I love you, Evie. Your aunt and I have never wanted anything but the best for you. I hope you’ll remember that.”
His words unnerved me more than the gun. “What conversation? What are you talking about?”
“A neelie. I’m assuming that’s what your aunt saw. It’s been at least a year since the last time I saw it for m
yself, so I could be wrong. Woodland Fae can be mistaken for them, depending on what form the neelie takes. Fae aren’t usually nasty, though, unless they’ve been provoked. That’s why I concluded Phoebe must have seen a neelie. I have limited experience with them. Derek was the expert.”
“A neelie.” Something was pinging my memory, but I couldn’t get it to come clear. “Why would you say my dad was an expert on neelies?”
“They cluster around the bridge. One day when he was driving across, he snagged one on the car’s antenna. It was still hanging on for dear life when he pulled in the driveway. Said the poor little thing was terrified. Your mom, on the other hand, was not amused. She wanted him to kill it. Derek was too much of a softie. He told me he’d promised her he’d take it outside of town and release it. I never found out what he did with it because … well, you know what happened.”
“Neelies aren’t real.” The whole time he’d been talking, I was stuck in a loop, mentally repeating the only three words that made sense. Or maybe it wasn’t about the neelie. The minute I’d seen Aunt Phoebe pointing a gun at me, the world had gone on tilt. I wasn’t sure I’d ever find my balance again. “Neelies aren’t real.”
“Evie, most of the time, your aunt’s imagination does her more harm than good. That’s why I’m not very tolerant. I can only hope I’ll live long enough to overcome my flaws, and my wife will find it in her heart to forgive me for them. In the meantime, I need you to understand that I’m telling you the unvarnished truth to the extent of my understanding.”
He joined me on the daybed and scooped my hand in his. “Neelies are real. Phoebe keeps seeing one out here when she’s gardening. I told her I’d get rid of it, so I set traps. That was some time ago. I confess I didn’t make it a priority. Since she hadn’t said any more about it, I hoped the traps had scared it way. Then this morning she started shooting. Tell you what, that is not the way I like to wake up.”
