Second Nature (23 page)

I nodded, my features hard. He made a motion
as if he held back a curtain. Lines like the edge of a clear piece
of plastic edged each flap, and I carefully slipped between them.
Xander slipped through behind me and we continued down the hall
alone.

We found Leslie in the living room with her
magical blades in her hands. She seemed shocked it was us and
dropped the blades to her side. She wore a pair of leather pants
and a blue halter-top, which seemed even tighter than the latex, if
possible. Her too-red hair swept back from her face in a high
pompadour-esque bump, then hung loose to her butt. Her tense
fighting stance eased into calm confusion in a heartbeat. “Oh, it’s
you.”

“Call off your Fumes.”

“And why would I do that?”

Reaching into the backpack, I grabbed a
modern book of essays by a werewolf and tossed it into the fire.
Russell said it was very common and not a big deal, but it would
get her attention. I grabbed the next book, the book of shadows
containing the spells that led to the Salam Witch Trials, and held
it near the fireplace. “Call them off!”

She held her hand up, eyeing me warily. A
gong rang in the distance and the sound of fighting in the hall
stopped. I turned as Sariah rushed to stand next to Russell, taking
his hands and trying to hide the helpless expression on her face.
Xander stood about a pace behind me, trying to watch every
direction at once.

“You play a dangerous game, Gaia. I told you
I had no problem with you.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said. The problem is
I know you’re lying. I think you’re not Peter’s hired gun so much
as you’re the one who’s manipulating him. The thing is, I’m willing
to leave you be—for now—in return for certain favors.”

“I don’t do
favors
.” Her lip curled
at the word.

The Book of Shadows dropped into the fire,
which flared up and turned brilliant green for a moment. Leslie
gasped as if I had thrown her in the fire. A dangerous light
entered her eyes as I pulled the next book out, a journal of a
vampire monk that served in the same monastery as Martin
Luther.

“What do you want?”

“I want Broomhilda’s tool, and I want Peter
Matthews dead. I’m willing to take care of him myself, so all you
have to give us is the information. Then I’ll hand the entire
backpack over, and we’ll walk away for tonight. So, do we have a
deal or will the true start of the Protestant movement be forever
lost in flames?” I held the book close enough that I could feel the
heat on my white knuckles.

Leslie eyed me as if trying to decide if I
bluffed or not. Destroying the one of a kind relic made me a little
sad, but Russell assured me there were other versions of this
story. I loved books, but it didn’t cause me any physical pain to
destroy them unlike Leslie. She grabbed a potted plant off the
nearby table and threw it into the flames. I watched the leaves
slowly consumed for a moment then looked back at her.

“Oh God no, not the ivy.” My deadpan voice
dripped with sarcasm. She looked surprised. Apparently, I was
supposed to be more connected to the life around me. “I don’t have
to stick to burning books for the record. This house is so ripe
with life, I can probably destroy you without even straining
myself.” Tree roots shot through the floor and seized her so she
wouldn’t even be able to wiggle her fingers. Her eyes got wide as
if she realized the woman she had thought was a mouse might in
truth be a lion. “Not so much of a beagle, am I?”

“I wondered if you’d let that comment
slide.”

“Now I have your full attention, let’s open
negotiations. I want Broomhilda’s tool, and I know you have it. And
I want you to tell me where Peter is. In return I won’t burn your
books or leave you trussed up like a Christmas goose for the
Council. I hear they
really
want to ‘speak’ to you.” I
leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “And I think
we both know they’re not very happy with you.” I shrugged as her
eyes widened a little. “I believe you’re very well versed in their
methods of torture—I mean
discussion
.”

Her face twisted as she considered her
position. “I could order my fumes to tear your sister and her boy
toy to pieces.”

“True. But I could I throw this entire
backpack in the flames and tighten those tree roots around you
until your eyes pop out like a stress doll’s. Then where would we
be? I still wouldn’t have Peter out of my hair—though I bet I could
find the tool.” What the hell had gotten into me? I’d never been
good at confrontation, and I probably would have died last year if
it weren’t for good planning and my siblings. But I was so angry
with everything being beyond my control. To take control of
something for once felt good.

“All right, so if
—if—
I hand over the
tool and tell you where to find Peter, what’s in it for me? And be
a little more original than ‘or else.’ What’s
really
in it
for me?”

I tightened the roots around her,
extricating a squeak. “You live?” She gave me a level look, and I
loosened the roots. I thought for a moment, but I honestly couldn’t
think of anything I might have she could possibly want. “What would
you want?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re not going to be
willing to turn over your ‘brother’?” She stopped at the dangerous
look in my eyes. “Just thinking out loud. Letting me live will get
you Peter’s whereabouts, but as for Broomhilda’s tool, that’s much
more valuable. It takes so much to get a girl to part with her
favorite baubles. Let’s say… the shiny crystal you wear around your
neck.”

My eyes narrowed as my hand flew to the
fluorite pendant. The necklace had been my mothers and was very
sentimental to me. I reminded myself it was a thing, and not an
actual connection to her. Her request seemed innocuous. There had
to be more to it, right? I glanced at my siblings who both
shrugged, then studied Leslie for a long moment. She seemed
strangely calm despite the fact she was wrapped so tight she
couldn’t take a deep breath. She met my eyes levelly, one eyebrow
raised in challenge. I knew I would regret it as soon as the words
were out of my mouth, but what choice did I truly have. I squeezed
it one last time, thinking of my mother as I did and closed my
eyes. “Done.”

I loosened the branches but did not release
her entirely. We engaged in a staring match as I reached behind my
neck and undid the clasp. Holding it up, she could clearly see the
crystal reflecting the light. She flicked her eyes to an antique
wooden box on the table. I carefully opened the lid and glanced
inside what looked like half a pair of scissors, only it had no
hole for a hinge to attach. I grabbed the box and tucked it under
my arm. With a sigh, I placed the necklace in its place.

“Peter is holed up in a cheap hotel on the
edge of town, the Castle Inn, or something along those lines. It’s
at the end of Water Street.” I nodded, dropping the backpack in
front of me. We slowly backed out, not trusting her to keep to the
deal. Russell parted the stasis field for us again, and we walked
out, past the drooling goons standing at the bottom of the
stairs.

Once we got out the door, we found Dylan
waiting with Nate. Since he had no idea what was happening in the
house, he’d waited outside. If he barreled in at the wrong moment,
he could have ruined whatever plans we had, so it was safer to make
sure Nate didn’t try anything. Plus, it was also a good idea we
kept an ace up our sleeve that Leslie didn’t know about.

Russell parted ways with us, walking back to
Sariah’s Lexus. He needed to head to Ithaca and the council. We
would need them behind us to deal with Leslie once and for all. He
also wanted to try to find information about the staff and trident,
safely tucked away in our house thanks to Dylan’s quick thinking.
With any luck he might be able to get more information about the
prophecy.

The rest of us climbed into Xander’s car.
Only as we sped away did I release Leslie from the tree roots. I
glanced at the ancient codex on the floor, the wood and sinew dull
in the darkness of the floorboard. I hadn’t wanted to chance
destroying it if things didn’t go well and it wouldn’t hurt to have
a bargaining chip down the road. I think I could almost hear her
scream in rage. Having the last laugh for once felt good.

I didn’t laugh for very long.

WE SPENT MOST the night staking out the
Palace Inn in a ratty, rundown neighborhood. It looked like it had
once been nice suburban homes, but now the city had abandoned it to
wallow in its own squalor. It was a little more than rat’s nest
designed to look like a castle. The once white walls were a dingy
yellow-grey and what had been red roof tiles were faded to a
pinkish-orange. The fake turrets at the corners were cracking and
one section had crumbled revealing the plywood and two-by-four
support structure inside. A weasely looking desk clerk sat behind
bullet-proof glass reading a newspaper between checking in sleazy
looking women who checked out an hour later.

Nate began to rouse from his stupor, the
glassy look in his eyes fading away. The strange crackling when I
touched him faded as well, leaving behind only the blanket feeling
I’d grown accustomed to. He had no memory of the last several
hours, not since we walked into the bedroom of the apartment. We
explained what happened, leaving out the part about the spell.

Knowing we couldn’t sit in the car without
drawing unwanted attention, Dylan flashed inside an abandoned house
across from the hotel and unlocked the door for us. The place let
us keep an eye on the hotel while we waited for Peter to show up.
Sariah sauntered up to the desk clerk around midnight to try to
find out what room he was in, but the clerk was suspicious and
accused her of being a cop because she was too pretty to be “an
associate” of one of his guests. After the shift change, she tried
again, looking more like the people who came and went during the
night, but he wouldn’t help either. So we settled in to our plastic
furniture Dylan had procured for us and waited.

We caught a glimpse of Peter around noon as
he emerged from a unit near the end. He walked to the vending
machines looking around suspiciously. His suspicious eyes darted
about until they fell on the Mustang. Recognition dawned on his
face. He looked around frantically until his gaze met mine through
the window. His face tightened and hatred was clear in the hard
lines of his face, even from across the street. He started to back
away only to find his back against a wall, then bolted into an
overgrown lot. As Xander tore out of the house, I sent branches
from one of the bushes to grab Peter’s wrists. With an impatient
flick of his hands, the weak branches went crashing to the ground.
Turning from the window, I charged after my brother, realizing I
was the last one to do so.

Peter stopped at the far side of the garden
and turned to us with his back against the garden wall. Dylan
appeared on one side and Xander blocked him on the other. He had
nowhere left to run. He glared hatred at me as one of those smoke
filled bubbles formed in his hand. I lashed at it with an ivy vine
from the wall, leaving the smoke to waft harmlessly away. He made a
throwing motion with his hand and a fireball flew at me, but Sariah
dove in front of it, patting out the flames that sprang up from her
blue silk blouse. Peter cursed and tried to slide sideways, but
Dylan and my brother closed in menacingly.

“What’s a matter, Petey?” Sariah grinned
viciously as she taunted the man. “Have you run out of tricks?”

Peter snarled at my sister and the air
around her became spongy slowing her movement. I figured it was a
good thing she didn’t need to breathe otherwise she might have
suffocated. Xander snarled and the witch sneered at him. He tried
to pin Xander’s hands at his side, but my brother shimmered out of
sight and slipped away. He began to pick at Peter, who flailed
about aimlessly with fists of air.

The air around Nate started crackling. His
eyes were vacant again, and he struggled against something I
couldn’t see. Slowly he turned towards me, his hands reaching for
my throat. I dodged him, stunned beyond words. Wood flew everywhere
as he called down lightning and shattered the tree I stood behind,
then stepped over the ruined stump. I grabbed at him with ivy
vines, but they crumbled to dust as they made contact with his
skin. He advanced on me slowly while I threw everything I had at
him. My back hit something but there was nothing there. Trying to
side step, I found an invisible wall to either side of me. I was
trapped.

Peter sneered at me. He had Dylan pinned
against the wall so tightly only his eyes moved. I didn’t see
Xander, but Nate seemed to be struggling against something, so I
figured my brother was holding him. Sariah still fought to break
loose from his spell.