"Good. I hope you'll stay and talk to Maura. I know it's not easy, seeing her like this, and it may seem silly talking to her, but it really does help. In the first few days, she had nonstop visitors, students and friends. Then it just petered out. That's typical, sadly."
"How about her husband? I hear he spends a lot of time here."
"Hours on end . . . until yesterday. He didn't come in at all. That's why I was hoping you were relatives. Her doctor needs to speak to him, but we haven't been able to reach him. We've called the Schmidts' home number and his cell, and left messages. His employer says he's on leave and they haven't heard from him since the accident. We're getting worried. He's been here every day, and before this, he always let us know if he'd be away even for a few hours."
Adam said we'd try to track someone down. A lie, but it mollified her.
fifteen
Because we'd said we were here to visit Maura Schmidt, we couldn't very well leave without doing that. Well, I could, but Adam said it wouldn't be right.
So we made a good show of it. Sat beside her bed and held her hand and talked to her. Or I presume that's what Adam did. I got coffees.
When I came back, he was standing there, looking down at the comatose woman, and he looked . . . sad. Sympathetic. I stood outside the door and watched him for a moment, and wondered if that was how I was supposed to feel, too.
With Paige and Lucas, it's easy to roll my eyes at their empathy overflow. No one can be expected to feel as much for strangers as they do. My bellwether is Adam.
I pushed open the door. "You okay?" I said as I handed him his mocha.
He shrugged. "Sure. Just thinking about their house. All those hobbies." A small laugh. "Boring as hell, but they obviously liked them, and they just seemed . . ."
"Happy. Small, boring, happy lives." I paused. "It's the last part that counts, though."
"Yep. It is." He sipped his drink. "Just feel bad for them, you know?"
I nodded. Put it that way and I got it.
"Okay," he said. "We're done here, which means we're Miami bound." He looked at me. "Right?"
When I didn't answer fast enough, his eyes narrowed.
"We had a deal," he said.
"I know. And I'll honor it. I just thought maybe we should--"
A hiss from the bed made me jump, cutting me short.
I pointed. "I think she's waking up."
Adam looked at the comatose figure. Then he looked at me, brown eyes blazing under hooded lids.
"That's not funny," he said.
"Help . . . ," Maura whispered.
He looked from her to me, then back.
"You heard that," I said. "Right?"
He grunted and moved up beside her. Then he leaned down and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Maura?" he said. "Can you hear me?"
"Help . . ."
The word came out on a hiss of breath through barely parted lips. Those lips hadn't moved. No part of her had moved. I walked to the other side of the bed.
"Maura?" I said.
"Savannah . . . ," she whispered.
My chin jerked up. I stared at Adam.
"Did you hear--?" I began.
He nodded. "I don't think that's Maura." He motioned for me to close the door, then leaned over the comatose woman. "Gary? It's Adam Vasic. I'm here with Savannah Levine."
Gary Schmidt? How would he--?
I answered my question before I could ask it. Schmidt was a necromancer. If he'd been here, he'd be able to communicate with his wife's soul--Jaime had done it with comatose patients. But what if he was on the other side? Could he speak through his wife's body?
"Savannah . . ."
"I'm here," I said, hurrying back to my spot. "Is this Gary Schmidt?"
"Yes . . ."
Question answered. More than one. Still, I asked, "Are you . . . Did you pass over?"
"Dead." The word came harsh. "Yes."
"How--?" I began.
"Don't know. Not important."
He didn't know how he died. Not unusual for ghosts, especially the newly dead. Communicating this way was obviously a struggle and he wasn't going to waste it on that.
"Leah," he whispered.
"She's dead," I said. "Again. We sent her back to hell and she won't get out this time."
Silence. While it felt good giving him that message, I'm not sure how much it mattered to him. He was still dead. His wife was still in a coma.
"Do you know how she got out?" I asked. "Did she tell you anything? Was she working with any--?"
"Stop." An intake of breath, as if he was struggling to stay on the line. "Will talk. Wait."
A moment's rest, then he said, "Leah freed because connection." His words came in spurts. "With you. Knows you. Might persuade you."
The voice stopped, and I waited as long as I could before asking, "Persuade me to do what?"
"Help. Wanted your help. Leah's, too. Package deal. She reneged."
So someone decided Leah had sway over me because we'd known each other. This someone also decided she might be useful, meaning it would be doubly worthwhile to free her from her hell dimension. She'd played along, cozying up to me in Jesse's body, with the ultimate goal of ignoring her mission and instead using me to stay out of hell for good.
"Who freed her?" I asked.
"Don't know. Powerful forces. Not human. Demonic. Celestial."
"Celestial?"
"Angel."
"Demonic and celestial," I said. "An angel and a demon working together?"
He didn't know. I got the feeling he was as confused as we were. Leah obviously hadn't told him the grand scheme.
"Tell me everything she said," I pressed. "Give me all the pieces and we'll put them together."
"That's all. She was freed. Powerful forces. You're a target. Powerful ally. Tool."
What would happen when those powerful forces discovered that their powerful tool had lost her powerful juice?
A thought flitted through my brain, half-formed, and I tried to grab it, but it disappeared before I could.
"There must be more," Adam said. "Leah tormented you for weeks."
"And she loves to talk," I said.
He said, "That's all," but it took him a moment, and that pause suggested he was holding out.
"Did she tell you anything more about who released her?" Adam asked.
"No."
"Did she name any specific demons?"
"No."
"Did she tell you why they wanted Savannah?"
"No."
"Did she tell you what her rescuer's overall plan is?"
A pause. Then, "No."
"She hinted at it, though. What they were up to."
Silence.
"What did she say?"
"Not important. What matters is Savannah. She's in danger."
"I'm always in danger," I said. "These people want me to help them carry out some grand scheme. What is it?"
"Don't know. Just . . ."
We waited, but he didn't go on.
"You don't know the whole plan," Adam said. "That's fine. We'll take whatever we can get. Just tell us--"
"Immortality."
Adam paused. "They want immortality?"
"Semi-immortality. Long life. Eternal youth. Invulnerability."
"Seriously?" I said. "Immortality questers freed Leah and want me? Besides being really unoriginal, that doesn't make any sense. I have demon and spellcaster blood. No immortality connection there."
"Bigger. Think bigger."
"Than immortality? It doesn't get bigger than that."
A hiss of frustration. "Immortality only part. Bigger plan. Need--"
The door swung open. An older nurse walked in, trilling, "We aren't supposed to shut that door, people. We would hate to have Mrs. Schmidt's alarms go off and we don't hear them."
Adam started to apologize, but she swept past him, syringe in hand.
"Out, out, out. Our lady needs tending."
"No,
" Schmidt whispered. "Please, no."
I tensed. Adam glanced at me. The nurse had to have heard him, but she just kept humming under her breath.
"Please," Schmidt said. "I'm sorry. Please--"
She hummed louder, drowning him out. When she reached for the intravenous cord and lifted the syringe, Adam lunged and grabbed her arm. The nurse wheeled and grabbed Adam around the neck before he could blink. He tried to throw her off, but she yanked him back against her, forearm jammed under his throat, holding him as if he was a struggling toddler, and no more dangerous. He grabbed her arm with both hands. Skin sizzled and popped. But she didn't let go.
I raced forward.
"Uh-uh," she said, pointing the needle at Adam's throat. "Touch me, and he dies. Cast a spell and he dies." She smiled at me and her eyes flashed orange. "Give me any excuse, child, and he dies."
"Demon," I said.
"You think?" Adam said, wheezing.
"Do you know who he is?" I asked the demon. "Who his father is?"
"I have no love for Asmondai," the demon said. "Nor does my master. In fact, should my hand slip . . ." She moved the needle against Adam's neck. "My master would reward me most handsomely. When mortals interfere with demons, accidents do happen."
"Only it wouldn't be an accident," I said, gaze glued to that syringe. "I'd know it wasn't. I'd make sure Asmondai knew, too."
A desperate, empty threat and I expected the demon to laugh. But her smile froze.
"Do you know who I am?" I said, pulling myself up straight. "Sav--"
"Savannah Levine. Daughter of Eve."
"And granddaughter of lord demon Balaam."
It should have meant nothing. Demons took little interest in their children, none in their grandchildren. But she let out a low hiss, drew back the syringe, and looked away. No, didn't just look away. Dropped her gaze from mine.
When she spoke, her voice was almost a whine. "He was warned. This necromancer, he was warned. Speak of what he knew and his wife would not wake." She snarled at Maura Schmidt's body. "You were warned."
"I'm sorry," Schmidt whispered, words tumbling out. "A mistake. A moment of weakness. I'll tell them--"
"No more." The demon released her grip on Adam and advanced on Schmidt. "Speak another word and she dies. If not by my hand, then by another. We warned you."
"Yes, yes. I'll--"
"Not another word!" the demon boomed.
Adam leapt forward and knocked her legs out from under her. As she crashed to the floor, I rushed in. Adam pinned her easily. Too easily. When I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, her eyes were closed, face slack. The demon had fled.
We tried to coax Schmidt back, but not for long. He was gone and there was an unconscious nurse on the floor, with third-degree burns on her arm. We got out of there as fast as we could.
We'd checked out of the hotel before we left, so I wasn't surprised when we got into the car and Adam said, "See how fast you can get us a flight to Miami. If we have time to grab lunch, we passed a place on the way over. Otherwise, we'll eat at the airport."
I didn't answer. Didn't take out my phone either.
"Savannah . . ."
"Shouldn't we investigate this?"
"Investigate what? Schmidt didn't give us anything . . . except confirmation that you've got something much worse than a witch-hunter on your tail. Which is all the more reason to get you to Miami."
"Right."
I still didn't take out my phone. His gaze shunted my way and his hands gripped the steering wheel. The faint smell of scorched vinyl wafted up.
"We had a deal," he said, his voice low. "Just one more lead, and we'd be in Miami by sundown."
"It's not sundown yet."
I meant it as a joke, but he braked so fast I slammed against the seat belt. The car behind us blasted its horn. Adam ignored it, pulling onto the shoulder, then opening the driver's door.
"Take the car," he said. "I'll meet you in Miami, whenever you ever get there."
"Don't." I leaned over and caught the back of his shirt. "I'm sorry. You're right. We're going to Miami. I'll get tickets."
He hesitated. I'd pushed too hard. Back off now or he'd leave, and that was worse than anything I'd face in Miami.
I looked up the flight information while he stood outside the car. "We can get a connecting flight in just over an hour or a direct one in almost three. They get in at the same time."
He hesitated a moment longer, then climbed back in. I expected him to say "The connecting one" just so he could get my ass on a plane faster, but he said, "Direct. We'll grab lunch first."
I was in the midst of reserving our tickets when my phone rang. The ring tone was "People Are Strange," meaning it was someone not in my address book. I checked the number.
"It's Roni," I said. "Should I ignore it?"
Adam took a deep breath, then exhaled. "No."
I answered.
"Savannah? Oh, my God, I didn't think you were going to pick up." Roni sounded out of breath. "I'm in trouble and I need your help. They're after me."
"Get rid of your cell phone. Like I said, that's how they're tracking you. Buy a prepaid if you have to. Get on a bus going someplace where you don't know anyone. Pay for the ticket in cash. Find a cheap motel and hole up there. If you still need help next week, maybe I--"
"Next week?" Her voice crackled with panic. "She's after me now, Savannah. My cousin found me here in Riverside and I got away, but she'll find me again, no matter what I do. I know it."
"Riverside? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I was following you, but then I lost the signal this morning so I went to your hotel to wait, but you haven't come back and she's going to kill me, Savannah. She's going to kill me!"
Adam motioned that he wanted to speak to me. I told Roni to hang on, and put her on hold.
"Let's get her to a safe house," Adam said. "Call Paige. See who's in Miami that they can spare--Aaron, Clay, Elena, Karl."
I took her off hold. "Roni? We have a plan. A friend of ours will fly in and escort you to a safe house. All you need to do is lie low for a few hours. Ditch the phone. Take a city bus. Find a crowded place and wait."
Silence.
"Roni?"
"N-no, please," she said.
I sighed. "It's the best I can offer so--"
"Please, Chrissy. Whatever happened to your mom, I didn't have anything to do with it. Please, just leave me alone."
"So you can send your black magic friends after me?" a young woman's voice said. "To kill me, too?"
A yelp. Then a young woman came on the line. "Do yourself a favor, witch, and mind your own business."
Click. The line went dead.
sixteen
We went to the hotel. I didn't need to persuade Adam. We did proceed with caution, though, knowing we could be running headlong into a trap.
There was no sign of Roni. Not surprising. As crazy as her aunt had been, she hadn't attempted to kill me in the lobby.
I thought of suggesting we split up, but Adam was still touchy, so I swallowed the urge and let him take the lead. He went back into the parking garage, where I'd fought off Roni's aunt Rachel, thinking Chrissy might try the same idea her mother had planned for me--a forced jump off the roof. There was no sign of them on the empty top level, though. So we searched the rest.
That took a while, circling and circling, looking and listening for any sign of trouble. If only I had my sensing spell, things would have gone so much faster. And my light ball, for illuminating dark corners. And--Well, all my spells really.
"That's it for the garage," Adam said when we'd finished the bottom level. "We'll try the hotel stairwell next, then the basement. Let's just hope Roni wasn't stupid enough to let her cousin lead her into a guest room or we'll never find her."
The hotel stairwell proved empty, so we went down to the basement. That's where the gym was located, meaning that part was open to the public. Definitely not the place where you'd take a person t
o kill her.
There were several off-limits areas, too. We checked doors. The third one was open. We snuck through to find ourselves in the beast of the building: the mechanical room. Despite the chug and hiss of the air-conditioning units, the place was hot enough to broil a pig.
We stuck together, snaking along the aisles. When my pant-leg caught, I whirled to see a hand holding it and my fingers flew up, ready to cast. Adam knocked the hand from my leg.
"I-it's me. Roni."
She'd wedged herself under some kind of fan unit. The floor was slick with blood.
"Shit," Adam said. He reached for her, but I caught his arm.
"Is anyone else here?" I said.
"N-no. Chrissy left. She thought I got away."
We helped Roni out. Knives were apparently the witch-hunters' weapon of choice when they chose something less discreet than a needle or noose. Roni had been stabbed several times. We offered to drop her off at a hospital, but she freaked out, saying her family would know if she used her health insurance. I said I'd pay. She wouldn't listen. We were her shield against her enemies, and now that she had us, she was holding on with both hands, even if it killed her.
So Adam got us a room and we snuck Roni up there. I retrieved our bags from the car. We still had bandages and a kit from fixing me up earlier. Though Roni's cuts were deep, the bleeding eventually stopped and she didn't seem to be in imminent danger of death. That was all she cared about.
I called Paige and told her about Roni, which meant telling her the whole sordid tale of my battle with the witch-hunters. She was furious, of course. She blasted Adam for not telling her. Lucas would be next in line. I was happy to lie and say he hadn't known, but he'd tell her anyway. So I kept my mouth shut and let her give me royal hell, knowing I deserved it.
When she was done, she told me how to take care of Roni, which started with a call to housekeeping for a mini sewing kit. Yep, I had to sew Roni up. We dosed her with booze from the bar fridge, but I don't think she was accustomed to alcohol, and it only made things worse. On seeing the needle piercing her skin, she puked, which set a cut on her torso bleeding again, and, well, it was fun.
When I called Paige back after that ordeal, she said they'd send someone to take Roni to a safe house. Roni didn't hear any of that conversation. She was passed-out drunk, which I figured was the best thing for her.
Adam and I ordered room service and ran some leads on our laptops, but the vibe wasn't the same. No tossing our findings back and forth as we searched. No teasing and joking. No fighting over the last piece of pizza. Adam just let me have it. He'd agreed to stay, but wasn't happy about it. I needed to get my ass to Miami or we were in serious trouble.
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