It probably seems silly, after everything Morgan had already done, but this actually startled me. “You’re just . . . giving her to him?” I said. “I knew you were twisted, Morgan, but I didn’t think that included selling other women to be sex slaves.”
Keith began to protest, but Morgan waved him away. “She’s just stalling for time,” she told him. “Go get the supplies we discussed.”
He looked unhappy, but he bobbed his head and disappeared through the opposite exit.
Morgan eyed me imperiously. She was definitely getting a kick out of looming over me. “They’re werewolves, you twit,” she said, in a low voice filled with disgust. “They’re not even people. At best, they’re tools.”
I raised my eyes to the ledge above her head. “Did you hear that?” I called up to the wolf on guard duty. “She called you a tool.”
He or she—I couldn’t tell from this angle—actually opened their mouth and yawned, displaying twin rows of teeth, each one nearly as long as my fingers. For some reason, it was the whiteness of the teeth that creeped me out most—natural wolves didn’t have that.
“Oh, Declan?” Morgan said, looking up at the wolf. “Declan is very well paid, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a response, she looked back at me and added, “He’s also quite strong, I’m told. And very willing to recruit new followers and send them into battle. We have an understanding.”
I thought of Simon wanting to ask the dead werewolf where Morgan was getting her money. From him. I opened my mouth to ask, but at that moment Keith came edging back into the room, holding a plastic grocery bag weighed down by something. He tossed it at my feet, keeping a few feet between us. “There you go.”
I looked in the bag and found my pocketknife, a stick of chalk, a few votive candles, and a plastic safety lighter. There were also a few vials of herbs I was probably supposed to recognize, and a plastic camp lantern.
“What’s this crap?” I asked Morgan.
“I wasn’t sure what you use for spells.” She pointed to the waist-high hole. “Better get started. You’re running out of time, and the longer it takes you to lay the ghosts, the longer Katia will suffer.”
“I need my bloodstone,” I told her.
She looked at Keith, who dug Valerya’s stone out of his pocket and tossed it at me. I made a panicked fumble, but managed to catch the priceless crystal without letting it hit the floor. I put the cord over my head again.
“You’ll have to untie me,” I said, holding up my wrists. I could have gotten the pocketknife out and done it myself, but it would have taken longer.
“Keith,” Morgan said, and on cue, the werewolf pulled my Glock from the back of his pants, squatted down, and pressed it to Katia’s thigh.
“Ever had a broken femur?” Morgan said casually, as she pulled a blade from the pocketknife and sawed apart the zip ties. “I’ve heard it’s very painful, and it takes forever to heal.”
I got the message—don’t try to hurt Morgan.
I climbed to my feet. I was a little wobbly, and my clothes were still wet, but I could manage. “Keith,” I said to the sneering werewolf, “I just want you to know, you’re a whiny little bitch and no one likes you. You’ll never be an alpha wolf.”
Keith flinched back as if I’d stung him, but his lips tightened and he pressed the gun harder into Katia’s leg, making her stir. “Say the word,” he said to Morgan.
Morgan raised her eyebrows at me. “Last chance.”
“Fine, I’ll do it.” I plucked the knife from her hand, ignoring the rest of the “supplies.” “If Keith only sees them in his sleep, how will you confirm that I really did what I said I would?”
Morgan smiled, as though the question was a sign of my compliance. “Keith will sleep.”
I sighed. “There’s a faster way. I can get started, but I need one of your people to grab something out of the backpack in the back of my Jeep,” I told her. I described the cassiterite that I’d brought along for Simon to use with Nellie. I’d tossed it in the back with the first aid kit when I’d left the brothel.
Morgan looked skeptical. “And this will enable one or both of us to see these ghosts?”
I shrugged. “If you run water over it in the moonlight, cleansing the crystal, it should.”
“Fine,” Morgan said dismissively. She obviously didn’t really care about the ghost-laying part of the project, but wanted to keep Keith as an asset. “I can get it myself. I wouldn’t mind some fresh air. In the meantime, Keith, why don’t you show our other guests to their accommodations?” Her smile was creepy, and I had a bad feeling about anything that would make her this happy.
“What does that mean?” I asked, but Keith was already putting on a single leather glove. He picked up the limp Katia with his uncovered hand, and with the gloved hand he grabbed Mary’s handcuffs. She had been unusually silent during the whole conversation, but I could tell she was struggling with the pain of the handcuffs. She let out a short scream as Keith forced her to stand.
“What are you doing?” I had started toward the wraith tunnel, but now I doubled back, hovering. No one answered me, which somehow made it worse.
Keith carried the women toward the sideways exit, but instead of trying to push through it, he veered right, behind where I’d originally woken up. It just seemed like an empty stretch of cave wall.
“This chamber comes with a built-in jail,” Morgan remarked, and she allowed me to follow a few feet behind Keith until I finally saw it: a long, narrow hole in the floor itself, partially hidden by the cave wall. You had to be at just the right angle to even see it.
“You’re not going to stuff them down there!” I cried, appalled.
“Relax, Lex,” Morgan said. “It’s more than ten feet deep. There’s plenty of room for both of them.”
“No! You can’t do that!” The thought of my injured aunt trapped in a dark hole was terrifying. Actually, the thought of anyone trapped down there was terrifying.
“You want them out?” Morgan countered. “Do the spell.”
I stood there with my hands balled into fists for a moment, but there was nothing I could do. The only weapon I had was a pocketknife, and Morgan alone could toss me into a wall. Declan could pounce on me, and even Keith would be able to overpower me. I had no chance against all three of them. Goddamn werewolves. Goddamn boundary magic. Sucking the life out of people might have sounded scary, but it didn’t do shit against anyone with their own magic.
“Fine.” I turned on my heel and stalked over to the wraith tunnel exit, pausing only to grab the camp lantern as I went by. I turned it on, and saw that the floor of the main room dropped down. I sat down cautiously, peering into the tunnel. It was three feet below this room, and the wraiths were trapped a little way farther down. So at least they wouldn’t get me the moment I started.
I gripped the wall, preparing to slide down to the tunnel floor. “By the way,” I said over my shoulder, “your brother and sister are both in the hospital right now. Because of you.”
Her voice hardened. “You’re lying.”
“No, she isn’t,” Keith said quietly. He’d returned from shoving human beings into a fucking hole in the ground.
“Letting other people pay for your crimes is kind of your thing, though, right?” I added to Morgan, and ducked down through the hole in the floor.
I was not above enjoying the last word.
Chapter 43
The moment I dropped into the hallway, the temperature fell about thirty degrees. My stomach seemed to have stayed in the upper chamber. I flicked on the lantern to get my bearings, since I’d been unconscious by the time Morgan, or whoever, had dragged me up into the chamber.
Ahead of me lay about twenty feet of clear tunnel, and beyond that milled the ghosts. I couldn’t tell how many there were, or how far back they went.
I was no longer bleeding, but I caught their attention anyway, possibly just because I was the only living thing there. They watched me come closer, and although onl
y the wraiths seemed to project malevolence, all the ghosts still danced with flames. Looking at any one of them was terrifying.
I swallowed hard, fighting the hysteria that seemed to be affecting my breathing. I stopped ten feet away from them, unable to make myself go any closer. Wraiths. Wraiths stood between me and the way out. I would never run without Katia and Mary, of course, but a primal sense of self-preservation was screaming at me in total panic. Usually I was pretty good at pushing away panic—or at least, I’d had tons of practice—but the memory of being dragged through all those burning ghosts was pounding against any mental walls I might have built up.
I squeezed my eyes shut, held on to the wall with one hand, and reached for my sister.
I thought about Sam all the time, of course, not just when I spoke to her. But I wasn’t sure I had ever called for her like this while I was awake, certainly not so forcefully. And she answered.
Sammy!
I’m here, Allie. What’s the matter?
I don’t know what to do.
Yes, you do.
I know, I need to stop Morgan, but I don’t know how.
Sam’s voice was patient. Babe, she says she’s going to cut a deal, but she could do that from Wyoming. She’s going after Maven, and she’ll try to use Charlie to do it. You know all this.
The wraiths . . .
Are just fucking ghosts, babe. Who you gonna call?
I cannot believe you just said that.
Allie. Forget Morgan for the moment. There’s only one choice right in front of you. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get it done. Glorious purpose, remember?
I hate you.
You love me.
I opened my eyes. Nothing had changed—the ghosts still crowded ten feet away from me, staring at me with flames dancing over their skin. I pushed out a breath, stuffed the bloodstone into my bra, against my skin, and picked up the pocketknife.
Most of the ghosts I’d encountered were tethered to the place where they’d died, and these were no different—I could call them away from there with my blood, just as I had with the two little girls playing in the road.
I set the lantern to one side, cut my finger, and made a circle of blood that took up the entire width of the hallway, so there was no chance of any wraiths going around it to get to me. When I was sure the circle was perfect, I sat back on my heels and looked up at them. “All right, guys,” I said softly. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry you died the way you did. But it’s time for you to move on now.” I pressed my palms against the circle and focused. “Door.”
The ghosts in the lead took experimental steps toward me, and then the whole burning mass of them was moving down the hall. When they reached the opposite edge of my circle, I gave a small nod. One by one, the regular remnants dropped down through the doorway I’d created, on their way to their next destination, whatever that was. I counted nineteen of them, making eye contact with each one as he went.
Part of this process was the feeling that it was my duty to witness them. To let them know I saw them and their pain.
Then they were gone, and five wraiths stood on the other side of my door, their anger blazing at me.
I pointed toward the door. “Go. Be at peace.”
They didn’t move, not a single one. They didn’t blink, or breathe. They just stood there radiating malice and burning, always burning.
It was an effort, but I forced myself to keep my shoulders back and my head high, like the army had taught me. One of the wraiths, a white guy in his fifties with a pug face and sagging jowls, stood a little in front of the others. I focused on him. “Can you understand me?”
Again, there was no response. “If you can understand me, raise your right hand,” I said in my most commanding tone.
The wraiths’ expressions didn’t change, but the leader lifted his right arm, as though he were about to take a pledge.
Interesting. They had some sort of sentience. There was still so much I didn’t understand about my magic. Had he answered of his own volition, or did they have to obey my orders?
I jabbed a finger at the doorway. “Go through the door.”
None of them moved. Well, it had been worth a shot.
I didn’t like leaving the door open like that, but I was afraid to break the circle, because I was pretty sure these guys would still do everything in their power to destroy me, and I doubted I could survive another impact with their psyches tonight. So I left it where it was, for protection, and tried to figure out what to do.
I knew of a boundary witch who could trap active wraiths in crystal, but the only crystal I had with me was my mother’s bloodstone, and I wouldn’t taint it by stuffing psychotic ghosts inside. Even if I could find something else as a receptacle, I had no idea how to imprison the wraiths, and a single false step would end with another trip into their psyche. All roads lead to spectral insanity, I thought, then wondered if I was losing it.
I chewed on my lip for a moment, trying to focus. The longer I knelt there looking at them . . . well, they didn’t become less terrifying, but it became a little easier to think. “Would it help,” I finally asked them, “if I brought you the man responsible for your deaths?”
The pug-faced man’s eyes were permanently trapped in a glare, but they seemed to narrow even more as he very slowly raised his right hand again.
Now we were getting somewhere. “Okay,” I said, looking at all of them, “here’s what we’re going to do.”
In my head, I added, Sammy, I need a favor . . .
A few moments later, without really taking my eyes off the wraiths, I stood and shuffled backward ten feet so I could raise my head into the cave entrance. I could see one of Declan’s paws still hanging from his perch, where he was probably on guard duty, but the others weren’t visible. “Keith!” I called.
He stepped into my sight line, holding my revolver loosely by his side. He must have been standing near the cave’s side wall. “Is it done?” he demanded, a tremble in his voice. “Did you exorcise them?”
“Where’s Morgan?”
He flapped a hand. “Upstairs, talking on her phone. No reception here. What about my ghosts?”
“They need you to apologize,” I said flatly.
“What?”
I chose my words carefully, and kept my voice as even as I could. I needed to sell this, because Keith would likely be able to tell if I outright lied. “Most of them moved on, but five of them aren’t regular ghosts—they’re wraiths. I don’t really know how to explain it, but they’re superpowerful and full of hate and anger. My theory is that they’ll only move on if you get involved.” There, that was actually the truth. “I want you to come down here and apologize. You have to mean it, though,” I added.
Keith stared down at me, and I could tell he was having a hard time figuring out if I was messing with him. “You’re joking.”
I sighed. “Look, I’ve never tried to lay a wraith before. I think this will work, but if I’m wrong, what have you lost?” I asked. I wanted to change the subject before he could think it through, so I went on, “Did Morgan get the cassiterite I asked for?” I wasn’t sure how long I’d been talking to the ghosts, but I estimated about ten or fifteen minutes.
I didn’t have much time before sunrise. I was not going to let them leave Katia and Mary in a hole for a full day.
“Yeah . . .” Keith fished in his pocket and pulled out the chunk of cassiterite. “Will it work on me?”
“I’m not sure, but it might—it’s gravitational magic, not witch magic,” I said. “Theoretically anyone could do it.”
Keith tilted his head, thinking, and finally said, “Throw the knife up here.”
“One second.” I went back to where I’d made the circle, the wraiths still watching me from the other side, and picked up my pocketknife. I tossed it up through the hole.
“Now back away,” Keith demanded. I obediently backed away from the entrance, scuffling my feet to make noise. I stopped abo
ut five feet away from the circle.
After a moment, Keith’s head finally appeared in the hole. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the wraiths were already going nuts—snarling silently, their lips moving as if cursing him out.
Turning back to Keith, I held up my empty hands to show I was unarmed. He still looked suspicious, but he hopped down and approached me. No sign of my gun, but he had the chunk of crystal with him.
I showed him how to open and close his hands several times to activate his chakra, then had him hold the cassiterite with both hands. I wasn’t sure why I felt like this was important—maybe to close a loop, like with electricity. I was sort of going with intuition here.
Keith suddenly went very quiet. “Did it work?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. I couldn’t see his face with the camp lantern just behind him, so I went over and picked it up, half expecting him to warn me away. He was silent. When I moved next to him and lifted the lantern, I saw that he’d gone completely white, his eyes wide. His lips moved, but if he was actually speaking I couldn’t hear it.
I followed his gaze to the wraiths. They paced the short distance of the barrier, silently snarling at him. Every few seconds one of them would throw himself against their side of the circle, but it held strong.
“I think they recognize you,” I said mildly.
Next to me, Keith’s head jerked up and down. I eased him a few steps closer to the wraiths. “They can’t cross the circle of blood,” I told him, honestly. “Tell them what you came to tell them.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Keith blurted, eyes fixed on the wraiths. “I didn’t know there was a gas line there!”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the wraiths seemed to get more agitated. “I’m sorry you died!” Keith wailed. “But I got my punishment, don’t you see? I’m stuck being a werewolf forever. You got your justice, so just . . . move on!”
Wow. I’d thought I hated this guy before. “You think being a werewolf is the same thing as burning to death?” I said in disbelief.
Boundary Broken (Boundary Magic Book 4) Page 28
