“Aha!” said Branwyn. “You don’t deny it!”
Patiently, he said, “I haven’t stolen anything from anybody, Branwyn. Yet.”
Branwyn blinked. “Did you just say that?”
“‘Steal’ is probably the wrong word,” he agreed. “You’re happier not knowing. I’ll rephrase. I didn’t steal a device from your sister’s organization. And I’m still wondering why you thought I might have.”
“You’re acting strange.” Branwyn shrugged and started fidgeting with a pinecone from a bowl on the coffee table. The laptop was open, but the screen was locked. Of course. “You’re clearly up to no good for somebody.”
“But not you or Marley. Trust that.” He looked out the window again.
Branwyn watched him for a moment, looking for another trick of the light or unCorbin flash of expression. Softly, she said, “Marley’s sick.”
His arms unfolded and his hands clenched into fists. “With what?” he asked, and his voice was too flat.
“She was fine yesterday morning,” Branwyn went on. “She started feeling headachy when she went to talk to Senyaza about you. I put her to bed last night. She was still sick this morning when I came to find you.”
Something scratched on the roof. There was a thump, and more scratching. Corbin seemed frozen in place. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing. The back of her neck prickled and the part of her exclusively focused on her own survival suggested now was a good time to get out of there.
Instead she said, “Do you know something about this? She has a headache and a fever, and her hands hurt—“
“Go away,” he said roughly.
“You do know something.” Branwyn’s hand closed tightly around the pinecone she’d picked up. When he didn’t respond, when he didn’t even look at her, she added, “Tell me what you know. Come on, Corbin. You care about her too!” She threw the pinecone at him.
It hit his shoulder and fell to the ground. He sucked in a ragged breath and then said, “It doesn’t matter. Go away. Go be with her.”
Concern for Marley transformed into true fear, like a cold knife to the gut. “What’s wrong with her, Corbin? You have to tell me so I can tell the hospital.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She slapped it to shut it up. Not now, Titanone.
“There’s no point,” said Corbin, staring fixedly at the desk. His breath was shallow and rapid.
“What? Fuck you! You said that about Penny, too. You tell me what you know—” She advanced two steps toward him before she clipped her shin on the edge of the coffee table. He looked at her, a horrible expression on his face: somewhere between a frozen scream and a grin. This time it was no trick of the light.
Which was dimming; the room was lit entirely by the windows, and blackness obscured them. One of Corbin’s eyes glinted with a blue radiance that matched the glimmering around his fists. Branwyn felt the odd rushing in her head she’d felt a year ago, when she’d stood in a magic circle drawn by Corbin so he could design her first set of charms.
“You will leave,” Corbin said quietly, in a voice that didn’t seem like it could be emanating from his tortured face. “You’re distracting me. I don’t need any more distractions.”
Branwyn’s hammer leaned behind the door, ready to redefine ‘distraction.’ But she hesitated. She needed answers, not a war. “Please, Corbin. I don’t want to lose her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry. I should have stayed away. I wanted—” He stopped, and then shouted loud enough to fill the room. “God damn it! Marley…” He covered his face with his luminescent hands, as if he was about to weep.
Branwyn took Corbin by the shoulder, shaking him. “Tell me. What is. Wrong with her.”
He dropped his hands. His mouth moved but no sound emerged. Then he whispered, “I can’t.”
Branwyn released him, pushing him away from her, electrified with rage. She went and picked up her hammer. “Fine. Who can?”
He shook his head and she blew her breath out between her teeth.
“Thanks for nothing, Corbin. I suppose next I go see what Zachariah can tell me. At least he’s still interested in Marley, even if he can’t break her heart.”
She flung the door open. Crows and ravens scattered away from the door, lifting from the building in a black cloud. When she was halfway down the path, she looked over her shoulder. They’d all settled back again, completely covering the house, like a black cloud of despair.
Chapter Eight
Marley
After Branwyn left, Marley snuggled into her bed with Neath and listened to Penny moving around in the other room. She could have gone back to sleep; she probably should gone back to sleep. But her dreams had been odd and unpleasant. Instead she remembered the day before: the argument with Zachariah, the encounter with Corbin and the meeting with the Senyaza elders. The latter half of the day seemed surreal compared to the mundanity of her morning—but how mundane was it really to be the babysitter for a rich immortal’s magical children?
She thought for a moment and then called Zachariah like a responsible employee.
“I’m sick. I won’t be over today.”
“Ah,” he said and then added, “I wondered. Do you need anything?”
Marley groaned. “Illegal drugs for this headache?” and then she remembered who she was talking to and hastily added, “No, don’t worry about it. Penny is here.”
“That’s good. How is Neath?”
Marley glanced at the cat, who was sprawled out taking up half the bed, her paws twitching. “Asleep. Dreaming hunting dreams.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Did you resolve your ‘personal business’ yesterday?”
“Not really. It might not matter, though.” Marley could have told him that Senyaza had called on her service but she couldn’t bear the idea of an argument, or worse, the delicate threading of disapproval in his voice. Her head hurt, dammit. She’d worry about disclosures and time off and his invitation to move in when she felt better.
“You don’t need to hide things from me, Marley.” Zachariah’s voice was cool. “I’m not going to let you go. I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before she could respond, he clicked off. She stared at her phone, thinking of the triple whammy of a romantic interest who was also an employer telling her he wasn’t going to let her go. He wasn’t going to fire her? He wasn’t going to lose her? He wasn’t going to free her? He’d probably meant all three.
But even if she felt capable of telling him everything, she didn’t want to. Zachariah himself was a walking, breathing book of secrets. She deserved some of her own.
Corbin drifted through her mind again, but the thought seemed to make her headache worse. Instead, reminded by her conversation with Zachariah, she found herself composing and then discarding messages to her mother.
Dear Mom, My biological mother was an angel of the Lord. Gah. It had been hard enough trying to decide how to tell Branwyn.
Dear Mom, My biological mother was an alien. That would probably go over better. But she still couldn’t send it. She didn’t want to be half-alien either.
Dear Mom, I’m part faerie, except on the angel side.
Dear Mom, You’re right. My relationship with Zachariah is weird. Because he’s a thousand years old.
Dear Mom, Magic is everywhere. I’m magic. Want to see what I can do?
Dear Mom, I thought I was human and now I’m not. I was your daughter. Am I still?
Dear Mom, I’m so afraid of changing. The old ones are so alien. I don’t know if they even remember how to love.
Dear Mom, My head hurts so much. Can I come home and have chicken soup?
Tangled in increasingly convoluted, bizarre thoughts, her fever rising again, Marley drifted off to sleep, arguing with her own reflection. The last thing she saw was Neath rising to her feet and stalking over to knock the phone out of her hand, leaving her last message unfinished.
Dear Mom, Goodb.
Loud and irritated, that was
Penny’s voice. The warmth curled at Marley’s side vanished, and grudgingly Marley pulled herself away from unpleasant fever dreams.
Penny was upset about something. Marley’s waking memory was foggy on the exact chain of events that led from the meeting with Mr. Black to her bed, but Penny’s voice tugged on her like a chain.
There was another voice, too. Marley couldn’t make it out, but the reflection in her mind, the one that had haunted her dreams, whispered that the voice was dangerous. Visitors were dangerous. This visitor might hurt Penny.
She couldn’t let Penny face anything dangerous alone. Clambering from bed was like moving mountains, but she managed it. Then she tugged her blanket around her shoulders and stumbled to the half-open bedroom door.
Beyond the door was a short hall, and beyond the hall was the small living room of her apartment. The world swam around her and Marley realized they really needed to wash the carpet. Attention for tasks like that had been swallowed by their new lives.
There was a slam.
“Marley!” said Penny, rushing to her. Her toenails were painted pink, Marley noticed. It was a nice color on her.
Penny took her arm and pulled her to her feet. Only then did Marley realize that she’d fallen to her knees. The pain in her head that had been kept at bay by sleep was returning.
“You should stay in bed,” scolded Penny.
“Somebody’s here. Who’s here?” Marley looked around. The front door was closed, but somebody was knocking.
“Nobody,” said Penny. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get rid of her.”
“What does she want?” asked Marley, resisting as Penny tried to push her back to the bedroom. Neath sat beside the front door, yowling as if she was desperate to get out. The knocking just kept going, skipping a beat here and there. The rhythm felt like it should be familiar.
Penny hesitated and then admitted, “To talk to you. I told her I’d take a message but she doesn’t want to leave a message. I don’t trust her, Marley. Go back to bed. You’re burning up.”
“I want to see her. I have to see how bad she is. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” said Marley. Her danger-sight was on again. Penny was fine, as fine as always, but hadn’t Marley’s sight been weird lately? She couldn’t trust it.
But her shields still worked. Nobody could hurt Penny while she was there. Not while she was conscious, anyhow. Whoever was out there was bad, and she had to see them.
It was just possible her brain wasn’t working right.
Marley needed to get more information. It was the only thing she could do.
She started staggering to the door. Penny sighed and let her go, moving ahead of her and opening the front door halfway.
A woman was leaning on the doorjamb. She was very tall, dressed casually in slacks and an ice-blue blouse. A river of beautiful blond hair spilled over her shoulder. Neath strolled outside and started winding herself between the woman’s legs, purring loudly. The woman quirked a friendly smile. “Marley Claviger?”
Marley gaped at the woman. She probably ought to respond to her name, demand an introduction, or even just fall over again, although that last was tempting. But she couldn’t. The woman’s hair was absolutely stunning. It deserved to be appreciated. The woman wore it in a simple ponytail, and even swept forward over her shoulder, it went down past her hips. It was thick and even all the way down, without the thinning and split ends Marley always developed when she tried to grow her hair past her shoulders.
“You’re not human,” she blurted. “That hair is not human.”
The woman smiled again and made to step inside the apartment, but Penny was right there to body block her. “No,” said Penny firmly. “You can see and talk but you’re not moving in without a whole set of references. The timing is all wrong. Neath, get back in here.”
Neath ignored Penny in order to continue lavishing affection on the visitor’s ankles. The woman leaned forward into Penny’s body block, and Marley jerked out of her fascination as her magic activated.
“No!” Her protection slid between Penny and the visitor and expanded in a violent push. The woman stumbled backward hard, tripping over Neath and barely catching herself on the railing across from their door.
“Marley, I’ve got this,” said Penny, and Marley could feel Penny’s rejection of her magic weakening it. Her protection was normally consent-based, although the consent could be as vague and unformed as a desire for help or safety. But this time, Penny’s explicit rejection didn’t completely shut down Marley’s magic.
It’s because the woman is so dangerous whispered Marley’s reflection, the shadow in her mind. Marley shook her head at the thought. She was sick and Penny was not. And Neath liked the woman. This didn’t make sense.
“Ah,” said the woman, straightening herself awkwardly and returning to the door. “My apologies, Miss Karzan. I didn’t mean to apply so much pressure, or to make either of you afraid. But it is very important we talk.”
There was definitely something weird going on. But the woman was so distractingly beautiful, and Marley’s tingling fingers itched to wrap themselves around her neck. But touching her was dangerous.
“What?” said Marley, confused by her own thoughts. “Who are you?”
“My name is Skadi Ornsdatter, and you’re right; I am certainly no more human than yourself. I was hoping to speak with you about Corbin? If your very fierce guardian would let me in, we could seat ourselves and you could be more comfortable.” The woman’s voice was pleasant, but it grated, too familiar, too hated.
“Don’t let her in, Penny,” said Marley quickly. “No. She’s… Neath, come away.” The cat paused, looking at her with an inquisitive meow, and then circled behind Skadi Ornsdatter and started pushing her head against the woman’s calves.
The woman looked at Marley, looked through her and said, “Ah. Little one, I know Corbin. We have been colleagues much of this last year, but something occurred and I lost his information. He spoke of you often and I hoped you might be able to direct me to him now? It’s urgent.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Marley said. She’d been saying that a lot. “I don’t know that I’d tell you if I did.”
Skadi raised her eyebrows in polite surprise. “Do you think I lie? I could tell you details of him that would be known by few—but perhaps by you.”
Marley swayed and stumbled to the couch, where she hung over the arm to peer at the blond stranger again. “Maybe you want to hurt him. I don’t know. He’s been hurt enough.”
Skadi was strong but she could be hurt. She’d lost her leg long ago in a wound no half-breed magic could repair.
Marley shook her head in bewilderment. She didn’t know those things. She didn’t think those thoughts. She felt like her mind was flying apart.
“I can see she isn’t well. I could use my gifts to help her,” Skadi said to Penny. “Only let me in—”
“Don’t let her in!” repeated Marley in alarm, the fear rising to drown her confusion. Her magic ached under her skin, desperate to push every threat to the ends of the world. “We can’t let her in.”
“I’m not, don’t worry,” said Penny reassuringly.
Skadi shrugged. “In fact, I don’t want to hurt him. But I will tell you this, little one. He has hurt others. Since he left my side, six of our kind have died. If you do know where he is, you must not for any reason go near him. Those who love you would be devastated to lose you.”
With that, the woman waggled her fingers in a cheerful farewell and bent to stroke Neath. Then she gently shoved the cat into the house and moved away from the door.
“My God,” said Penny, closing the door before Neath could dart out again. The cat squawked a loud complaint. “Do you think she was telling the truth?”
“I don’t know,” said Marley, preoccupied. She took a deep breath, trying to bring her magic back under control. Her magic and her mind. But dreams were creeping into her waking mind, making her think strange things, But—it
was disturbing—she couldn’t tell what parts were strange anymore. What was she supposed to be?
She pulled the blanket around her shoulders and fixed on what was most important right now. Skadi was hunting Corbin. “Was she trying to suggest that she’d slept with Corbin? When she was all ‘I know details nobody but maybe you know?’”
Penny shifted uncomfortably, pushing her lip out. “Yes, I think so. I’m sure that’s not true, though.”
Marley laid back on the couch, covering her eyes with her arms. “It doesn’t matter if it is. Corbin and I never made it to the fidelity stage.”
Penny crossed her arms. “If you say so, Marley. Are you feeling any better? I hope you’re feeling better because otherwise I have to send you back to bed.”
Marley sighed. “No. But I have to get dressed anyhow.”
“What?” Why?” Penny’s voice pitched up.
“I need to go see Zachariah. No, listen, I need to talk to him about Corbin, Penny. He’s old and he’s not part of Senyaza and I know he has some answers and he might have others. Don’t make me fight with you over this. I don’t have the energy.”
Penny, who had been opening and closing her mouth through Marley’s speech, finally said in a subdued voice, “Maybe he can tell us what’s wrong with you. Because you’re looking weird, Marley. Magically, I mean.”
“Yeah,” agreed Marley tiredly. “There’s something magic going on. Let’s go find out what.”
By the time Marley and Penny arrived at Zachariah’s house, it was mid-afternoon. She hoped the twins were taking a late nap. They still did occasionally. She opened the car door and Neath slithered off her lap, chirping a command for Marley to follow her. Penny had made a token effort to leave the cat behind, but Neath wasn’t having any of it and had been on the car hood waiting before they’d arrived.
The ride over had been hard. Marley had wanted very much to stay awake, despite the headache and the fever. But when she resisted the sleep-inducing vibration of the car, the shadow in her mind whispered things. Some of them were horrible, and some strangely compelling. But after a while she could no longer remember if, before the shadow, she’d found tall blonde women repellant, attractive or neutral. Sleeping was better than an agony of self-doubt, at least until she dreamed of her own face, twisted by a joker’s smile.
Divinity Circuit (Senyaza Series Book 5) Page 9
