“That’s her story to tell.”
Finally, I pried my lids apart. It was only a fuzzy crack. Maya leaned over me, her long dark hair loose around her rounded face. Her eyes were eerie white. She smiled at me, a merry grin. “There you are,
querida
. It is good to see you again.”
“You too,” I rasped. My throat and tongue were stiff and unwieldy. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime. Now others wish to see you.” She stood and moved away.
Next to fill my vision was Leo. Worry lined his face. He gripped my hand, and brushed at the tears rolling down the sides of my face. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”
“No pain.” Not physical, anyhow. I glanced past him. Cass sat at the foot of my bed. They must have moved me here. As usual, she looked almost anorexic, her blond hair wispy and short, her face all sharp angles. Where was Price? I looked back at Leo, tightening my fingers on his. “I’m okay.”
“What happened?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t make the tears stop. They kept leaking out. How did I explain that my father—his stepdad—had tampered with my head, stolen my memories, and nearly killed me.
“Where’s Price?” I couldn’t stop the words.
“Here.”
I turned my head. He leaned against the wall on the other side of me, arms folded, face haggard and gray. Why was he so far away?
“I can touch spirits,” I said. “I can reach inside the trace dimension and touch them. My father put blocks in my head so I couldn’t say it. He wiped out some of my memories. I don’t know what I’ve lost, or what other landmines he left inside me.” The words tumbled out, no internal restrictions stopping them. My tears flowed harder.
Price didn’t respond. He only stared, unmoving.
“Wait—your dad would never hurt you,” Leo said. “He adored you. He’d do anything for you.”
I couldn’t argue. I didn’t want to even try. Between Price’s indifference and finding out about my dad, I hurt too much. I rolled onto my side and pushed my face into the pillow as tears kept spilling from my eyes. I squeezed them shut.
“Why don’t we give her a little bit,” Maya said. “Come on, now. All of you.”
Leo squeezed my hand again and stood. I heard the rustle of clothing and the thud of footsteps, then the sound of the door closing firmly. Quiet surrounded me, and I began crying in earnest. My father’s betrayal was a gaping wound, and Price’s indifference cut deep.
I thought I was alone, and then the mattress sank behind me and Price’s arms came around me. He pulled me into his lap as he sat back against the headboard.
“Shh, baby. It’s going to be all right,” he murmured against my forehead.
I swiped at my runny nose. “Easy for you to say. Your dad didn’t scramble your brain. Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad.”
I snorted. “Could have fooled me. You looked like you wanted to cut my throat.”
“No. My throat, maybe, but not yours.”
I raised my head, trying not to let him see how much his words hurt. “Oh? When did you become suicidal?”
“I don’t know. Sometime between you dying yesterday and you dying today.”
My body turned to lead. I didn’t know what to say to that. I couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Love was supposed to be joyful, not torturous. At least he was honest.
“Okay,” I said at last, when nothing else came to mind.
“Okay, what?”
“It’s too much, too hard, to be with me. I get it. You can’t trust anything about who I am.”
He was silent. Then, “I didn’t say that.”
“You’d like to cut your own throat. I think that pretty much covers it.” Every word bruised my heart, but I wasn’t going to make this tougher on him than it had to be. “It’s okay, though. I understand. There’s got to be someone out there you can love who doesn’t make you suicidal. Even if there’s not, being with me isn’t healthy for you. You aren’t happy. I can’t even promise to look out after myself. My head’s so fucked up that I don’t know what I might do. You’re better off not being with me.”
His body hardened, his arms tightening. “That’s not what I said.”
“Either way, it’s true.” I should have been trying to push away, but instead I tried to breathe him in, to carve the memory of his touch and his scent into my brain so that I’d have that forever.
“Are you going to stop crying?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to cry about, just at the moment.” Like a shattered heart. I was losing my dad and the love of my life all at once. Maybe I should consider a little throat cutting of my own.
“I’m not going anywhere. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I’d rather be in hell with you than in heaven with anybody else. And before you go making jokes about us being in hell, I don’t know what else you’d call it when I’m having to watch you sliding away from me and I can’t do shit to stop it. I’ve never been so helpless. I am not good at being helpless, Riley. Now please stop crying. You’re killing me. And making a mess out of my shirt.”
I laughed and straightened up a little. “Got any Kleenex?”
“In the other nightstand, I think.”
I crawled off his lap and pulled open the top drawer. It was empty. In the second drawer was a box of tissue, a fingernail kit, an alarm clock, a pad of paper, a couple of pens, a package of earplugs, an unused eye mask, and a little sewing kit. I grabbed a handful of tissues and blew my nose and wiped my eyes. When I’d gotten myself better under control, I faced Price, sitting cross-legged. He turned to lie on his side, propping his head on his elbow, his sapphire gaze locked on me.
“My dad messed with my head. It almost killed me,” I said, and the tears started to roll again. I rubbed them fiercely. “When I was taken in dreamspace, I was shown my mother’s murder.” I fell silent, leaving Price to arrive at the same conclusion I’d arrived at.
“You think your father kidnapped you in the dreamspace.”
I looked down at my hands. “Him, or my mom’s murderer.” I lifted my gaze again. “I don’t want to think they are the same person.”
Price sat up and wrapped my knotted hands in his. “He loved your mom, right? He wouldn’t have killed her.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if anything I remember before he disappeared is even real.”
“Fuck,” Price said.
“Exactly.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I have to find him. But first, we have to take care of Percy.” I frowned. “Truth is, I’d like to focus on something else.”
“All right then. Gregg’s working on a plan. Madison’s helping him with the layout of Percy’s underground compound.”
I lifted my brows at him. “Good. Then we’ll be able to get going soon.”
“You could stay out of it. Let us handle it.” Price continued to fake calm relaxation, brushing away imaginary lint on his jeans.
I gave him a long look, unsure how to answer. “Are you asking me to?”
“I want to.”
“But?”
“You’ll say no, because that’s who you are. I love you, so I’d better learn to deal with it. Besides, there’s no way I’d hang back in your place. The fact is that our attack team will get into Percy’s lair with fewer problems if you follow the trace and lead us, not to mention no one else can see these spirit blanket traps. I’m sure Percy’s rigged more of them since you and Madison disappeared. I would have. Besides, given that your father may have made a play for you in the spirit dimension, leaving you above ground puts you at risk. You’re probably safer with me going after Percy than not.”
I wasn’t sure if he was explaining to me or talking himself into his logic. Either way—“I won’t take unnecessary chances,” I promised.
“You’d damned well better not.”
I thought he might kiss me, but instead he rolled off the bed and picked his shoulder holster up off the floor. He’d dropped it there when he crawled into bed with me.
“Let’s get going.”
I got up and came around the foot of the bed. “At least I make your life interesting.”
“If by interesting you mean insane, frustrating, and completely fucked up.”
“At least the sex is good,” I pointed out.
“The sex, in fact, is glorious.”
The corner of my mouth rose. “And here I thought I needed more practice.”
He gripped my hand, pulling me out the door. “Come to think of it, you do. I’m happy to help you with that, no matter how long it takes for you to learn to do it right.”
“It could take a while.”
“For you, sweetheart, I’ve got all the time in the world.”
“You say that now, but wait until you’re living with me and I put my cold feet on you in the middle of the night.” I wanted to prolong the lighthearted ease between us before we blundered into the lion’s den.
“I’ll get you socks.”
“I hog the hot water.”
“Tankless water heater. Or I’ll shower with you. I’ll definitely shower with you.”
“I tend to stay up all hours.”
“I’ll adjust.”
He pulled me into his arms at the foot of the stairs. His expression sobered, his eyes drilling into me. “I won’t ever walk away, and I won’t ever give up on you. Count on it.”
Unlike my dad
. I knew that’s what he was thinking about. But more than that, he was telling me that if something changed, if he
did
walk away or give up, then it wasn’t real. For that to happen, he would have to have been tampered with the way my dad tampered with me, and I shouldn’t trust it.
“I’ll keep Cass on speed dial.”
“Do. And never forget I love you.”
I wish I could promise him that. Unfortunately, I knew better.
Chapter 16
Everyone had gathered back in the dining room, except for Maya and Cass, who were resting. Large papers littered one end of the table where Madison and Touray had been working up a map of Percy’s lair. I was able to add some slight detail, with the overlook of the drug-farm cavern and some of the tunnels where Luke had taken me. I wasn’t certain of any of them, and made sure that Touray knew it. Leo offered more insights from his time with Dalton and his readings from the metal.
“Before we get down to your plans for Percy,” I said, serving myself from a new buffet set out on the sideboard. After getting so sick and going through a healing, I was starving again. “Let’s finish with what’s going on with your sister and dad, Madison.”
“We left off that story with you,” Leo said, lowering one of the pages he held to look at me. “You said something felt familiar, and then you ran off like your butt was on fire. Please don’t do that again. For the record, it was unnerving and upsetting.” He gave me a hard look, then an impish grin.
I forced myself to grin back. “For the record, that wasn’t my fault. My dad set it up in my head so that I couldn’t tell you—tell anyone—that I can reach into the trace dimension and touch trace, touch spirits.”
Everybody looked at me. All except Price, who stood behind me and rubbed the tension from my shoulders.
“So what felt familiar?” Touray asked, quicker to start putting the pieces together.
“When I dismantled the spirit blankets, some of the pieces clung to me. I knew they felt familiar, but I didn’t realize why. Then I forgot about them.” Though really, how I’d managed to do that, I wasn’t sure. They still patchworked my hands, arms, neck, and face, feeling like chilled cellophane.
Price’s hands clamped on my shoulders. “Are they still on you?” he asked quietly.
Trust him to go right to the potentially dangerous part. I nodded.
Touray frowned. “I don’t understand. I would have seen them when I took you into the dreamspace.”
“Maybe you weren’t looking. They attached to my skin.” I pointed to the spots. Eight of them, though three were no bigger than pennies, and the rest ranged up to the size of my palm.
“Attached?” Leo asked, dropping the papers he was looking at and focusing all his attention on me. “They are still on you? Did you think maybe you might have wanted to mention that? Maybe back in the tunnels?”
I was pretty sure this was what it felt like to be stalked by hungry vultures. “What were you going to do about them? What are you going to do about them now?”
“You need a ragpicker,” Madison inserted. “That’s what they do.”
“Is she in danger from them?” Leo demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Hold on,” I said, trying to get back on topic. “So far, they haven’t hurt me. I’m not saying I don’t want to get rid of them, but we have more pressing issues, like taking Percy down and rescuing Madison’s father and sister.” I paused. “What about your mom?”
A shadow flickered over Madison’s face. “I never see her. She left us when I was a kid. She lives in Tahoe, I think, or maybe Reno. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”
“Okay, it’s just your sister and father. Percy’s using them to make those blankets, isn’t he?”
Madison looked surprised that I’d figured it out and then nodded. “When the ragpickers collect the spirit tatters, my dad and Robin can sort them according to talent. Then the quilters piece together a blanket or cloak that lends that talent to the wearer. So when you were taken, that paralysis you felt came from the talent cloaks the guards wore. The blankets are usually a blend of different abilities designed for whatever the buyer needs. The power of the blankets is too much to be worn.”
The silence that followed her explanation choked the room. Price’s hands on my shoulders went boneless. Even Touray, always in control of himself, stood dumb, his jaw slack. I wished I could have taken a picture.
My first reaction was that that wasn’t possible. Luckily, my mouth wasn’t working yet, because obviously it was possible. I’d been there. I’d seen the way Percy’s goons glowed and it made sense. They’d been wrapped in stolen magic.
Madison’s hands knotted together. Her eyes were haunted. “Percy has the ragpickers collect spirits from the people he kills. The wraith spirits are in tatters by that time. Something about the effects of Sparkle Dust, I guess. At that point, their talents are easier for the quilters to work with. Whole spirits are hard. Anyhow, even neuters can use the talent cloaks. Percy sells them for a lot of money.”
At the word
neuters
, Price’s fingers tightened on my shoulders. It referred to people who had no magical talent—like Price. There were other words—
mundanes
,
ordinaries
,
defects
,
brokens
. Lately, the derogatory
neuter
had caught on. It had to be hard, living in a world of magic and not having any. Percy’s talent cloaks would be in serious demand. Especially if you could have more than one. Hell, talented people would covet having access to new powers. It was half the reason people claimed to use SD.
Price was the one who pulled himself together first, jumping into cop mode. “Now we know why Percy keeps your father and sister. He’ll have them well guarded. Do you know where they are kept?”
Madison shook her head. “I get blindfolded. All I know is that there’s an entrance somewhere in Percy’s living quarters.”
“We’ve marked those on the map,” Touray said, shifting a page and pointing. Price examined them.
“How accurate is the map?” he asked Madison.
“I’ve explored a lot in these areas, so I’m fairly confident in the layout,” she said, pointing. “Over here, Percy makes the SD. I’m not allowed back there at all. This is the prison corridor and here are his offices, kitchens, and common areas. Employee residences for that level are back along this side. I’m not allowed into this upper section or the lower sections. I know a lot of the miners are housed in those areas, along with equipment. There’s storage there, and that’s where the deliveries come in.”
“He’s got a drop shaft,” Touray said. “I pulled the blueprints from my contact at the mining department. It’s proprietary. He doesn’t share it with anyone. That’s our best entry point.”
“Wait—you’re not going in through the tunnels?” I asked. “Knocking in the front door is a whole lot more dangerous, isn’t it?”
Price shook his head. “Not really. Percy will be expecting a back-door assault. If you got away, then it’s the only way in you know, so he’ll be watching. The front door is probably always watched, but he’s not likely to have added security at this point.” He smiled grimly. “We’re good at this, Riley. Trust us.”
Good at this. Invasion of an armed stronghold? I believed it. That, and Price had long experience with the police flushing out criminal warrens.
The more they talked and planned, the less I felt a part of the action. They didn’t really need me for anything. I wouldn’t be able to find Madison’s family with trace since I had no trace to track. She couldn’t remember anywhere that I might be able to pick it up, either. Going in the front door meant little likelihood of booby traps or the blanket traps. Nulls—of which Touray had a massive stockpile—would take care of the talent cloaks and hopefully any exposure to SD. That left me with nothing to do.
I guess that was Price’s plan all along.
I’d like to say I didn’t resent it, but I did. Not that he said anything directly. He knew I was smart enough to figure it out and that I wouldn’t endanger everybody else by insisting on coming along. Leo was more welcome than I was. In fact, he was a key player. His metal talent meant he could subdue enemies and dismantle guns without even seeing them. The entire team would wear a series of handcuffs on their clothing or cables wound around their arms that he’d be able to use if no other metals presented themselves. It was all very tidy and exclusive.
At some point, when Touray, Price, and Leo were deep in a discussion over the entry, I got up and left.
I stood outside the dining room, trying to sort out just where I wanted to go. I was pouting, and that was ugly. I maybe could have contributed something if I stayed, but this was not my area of expertise whatsoever. Maybe I could go do laundry or clean bathrooms. I made a face at myself. Criminy. Pity party, much? I swallowed down my unreasonable hurt. I’d pretty much used up my attention quota when I needed rescuing several times in the last couple of days. I sighed. The others were doing what needed to be done and didn’t need me whining at them because I wasn’t getting enough attention.
That still didn’t give me anything to do. At least when Price followed me into the hallway, I didn’t whine at him.
“Riley? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not much help in there,” I said and was pleased to note that I sounded matter-of-fact. “I might be able to boost some nulls. I’d like to send you in with the strongest nulls possible, given the Sparkle Dust threat.”
His gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Send us in?”
“I’m not going to be much use, now, am I? Seems stupid to take me along when all I’ll do is distract you.”
He couldn’t hide his relief, which both exasperated and gratified me.
“You don’t have to look so happy about it.”
“Any time I don’t have to worry about you, I’m happy,” he said, refusing to be in the least bit daunted.
“Price?” Touray looked out of the room, giving me an implacable look like he wasn’t going to back down from shutting me out any more than Price was.
I did not roll my eyes at him, or stick out my tongue, even though I wanted to. Junior high still runs thick in my blood. Before he could say anything condescending and John Wayne little-lady-ish, I cut him off. “Where are your nulls? I was just telling Price I’d like to boost some. May help if you get exposed to SD.” The thought made me sick, but I kept my happy face plastered on.
Touray’s brows rose, no doubt surprised that I wasn’t throwing a hissy fit all over the ground. “I’ll show you.”
Price started to follow us, but I shooed him away. “I’ll be fine, and you’ve things to do here.”
He gave me a suspicious look, but for once I had no need to feel guilty. My conscience was clean. For now. I smiled brightly at him, which only made him scowl.
Touray led me down several stairways into an underground bunker, for lack of a better word. It had a steel door protected by magic. He stepped inside the massive vault, and golden light flared to life. We stood in a room the size of a basketball gym, with a broad aisle running down the center and lines of shelves, drawers, and cabinets branching perpendicular from it. A computer sat up front on a tall desk with a swiveling barstool for a chair.
“This way,” he said, leading me down the center aisle and then left. He stopped short, indicating the entire set of shelves jammed full of everything from coffee cups to cathedral crystals. “These are all nulls. I’ll leave it to you to decide what you think we ought to take with us.”
“All right,” I said, deciding that since he wasn’t into small talk, I wasn’t going to be either. Not that I had much to say at this point.
He started to walk away, then turned around, his black eyes boring through me. “You know that staying behind is the right thing to do, right?”
“I’m not arguing,” I said, not looking at him.
“That’s what worries me.”
I smiled. Ordinarily, he’d be right to be worried. This time, though, I didn’t have any mischief planned. “I hear that sort of thing sharpens the edges, keeps you alert.”
“I’m plenty sharp and alert, thank you.”
“Ah, well. Then it’s good I’m on board with your plan.”
“Are you?”
“Do you want me to swear on a stack of Bibles?”
“Would that in any way prevent you from lying?” He countered, both brows rising.
“As far as you know,” I said, then waved my hand to dismiss him. “Go away now. I want to have these ready when you need them. How long before you figure to leave?”
He clearly wasn’t convinced that I wouldn’t go do something on my own, but he had no choice but to believe me. And maybe duct-tape me to a chair before he left. I wouldn’t put it past him. Note to self—hide a knife in my bra.
“Two hours.”
“What time is it?” I asked, realizing that I had no idea. “Hell, what day is it?”
“It’s Wednesday.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten after one. Afternoon,” he added.
Wednesday? How was that possible? I’d gone into the tunnels on Thursday. I must have lost a few days between getting lost in the dreamspace, sleep, and today’s episode with the mental blocks. I kept my happy mask on, refusing to let Touray see how shaken I was by my time loss.
“I hope Percy hasn’t abandoned ship already. How long do you expect your strike on his compound to take?”
He shrugged. “We’ll hopefully capture Percy and get Madison’s family out within a couple of hours. After that, we’ll send a larger force in to shut the rest down.”
“What about the other prisoners?” I asked. “And the people he’s turning into wraiths? And Luke? He helped me. I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“We don’t know if he still has any prisoners. We’ve got Luke’s description. We’ll do our best not to harm him. As for the wraiths, I don’t know what will happen to them. Our priority to is to shut down the operation, and keep anyone with knowledge of the SD production from escaping and starting up a new drug factory. Since the wraiths are caged up, I assume they’ll be fine until the dust settles and we can free them.”
I frowned. “Free them? They can’t just go free. They’re addicts. They’ll kill to get SD, or they’ll kill themselves trying. They need to be detoxed and cared for.”
Touray smiled in that gentle, pat-on-the-head way that indulgent parents smile at children who still believe in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. The way the world talks to artists and dreamers.