Arise (31 page)

Her dark skin looked waxen, her cheeks sagged, and her eyes were bloodshot, unfocused.

Studying her closely, I frowned. For some reason, this hunched, sick old woman reminded me of someone. Maybe just because of their similar ages. Or maybe because of how fast they’d both deteriorated. Something about Marie’s current state, and Ruth’s appearance last night, itched at me....

“Gaby,” I murmured, lost in thought, “how would you go about drugging someone?”

Gaby’s head snapped toward me, and her eyes widened in surprise. After a beat, she turned back to Marie and leaned close to the old woman’s face. Gaby pulled in a sharp breath through her nose and then sat back on her heels.

“How is that possible?” she muttered, before jumping to her feet and bounding over to one of the well-stocked shelves. There, she sifted through items until she grabbed a small brown bottle, uncorked it, and took a deep sniff of its contents.

“Serpentwood. Holy hell. This stuff is a serious sedative. Mix a little bit of it with wine and it makes the drinker dizzy, confused—you name it. Marie never uses this crap, but over half the bottle is gone now.” Gaby’s eyes darted to Marie’s slouched form and then back to me. “How did you know?”

I pressed my hands to my knees and stood. “Because I think someone’s doing the same thing to Joshua’s grandmother. And I’m pretty sure I know who.”

Gaby raised one eyebrow in question, and I grimaced.

“Annabel Comeaux. Joshua’s cousin. She may or may not be working with this Alex guy they’ve all been hanging out with, but … everything points to just her right now.”

Gaby’s eyebrow arched higher. “I find it hard to believe that someone would poison their own grandmother. And what about Marie? I heard Marie say she didn’t even know the girl.”

“But Annabel knows
her
. She’s the one who told Joshua that Marie could help me. And … there’s something else. Something I didn’t want to tell you earlier.”

I hesitated, studying Gaby one more time. Looking for some indefinable trait that meant I could trust her. Unsure if I’d actually found anything, I continued haltingly.

“Last night, when the Faders tried to take me, they wanted to give me to … an intermediary. Someone who would use me to secure their freedom. From the demons. And … they called the intermediary ‘she.’”

Gaby frowned deeply.

“O-kay,” she said slowly, reminding me—painfully—of Joshua. “You didn’t tell me this earlier because …?”

“Because I wasn’t sure whether you weren’t the one who was trying to trade me to the demons,” I said, shame seeping into my voice. “And I
still
don’t know for sure. But you didn’t even know Ruth before you met me, so …”

As I trailed off, I saw hurt glimmer in Gaby’s eyes. But she recovered quickly and shook her head. “It still doesn’t make sense. Why would Annabel hurt her grandmother?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head as well. “But I’m betting Ruth would
strongly
disapprove of a Seer working with demons. I know for a fact that Ruth would do anything within her power to stop something like that.”

“So would Marie,” Gaby said, looking back at the collapsed form in the corner. “Maybe Marie helped Annabel, and then found out what she was planning to do.”

“That’s what I think too. But that still doesn’t explain why Annabel told Joshua to bring me here.”

Gaby bit her lip. “I don’t know. I think we need to find a Mayhew, fast. Before we leave, though, let’s make sure someone knows that Marie is sick.”

“Absolutely. We shouldn’t leave her like this.”

I crossed over to the entrance, more than ready to let someone know and then get out of this place. But before I drew the curtain aside, I noticed Gaby pull another jar off the shelves. She dumped its contents into an incense burner, struck a match, and dropped the flame into the burner.

“Hawthorne,” she explained quietly. “To protect Marie.”

I pulled one corner of my mouth back. “I’d tell you that I don’t believe in that stuff, but I guess I’m living proof otherwise. Well … sort of living.”

“Amen,” Gaby murmured, either to me or to the Hawthorne offering. Then she turned away from it and hurried past me, obviously trying not to throw backward glances at Marie’s huddled body.

Once we reached the relative brightness of the café, Gaby stormed over to the attendant, who still stood behind the counter flipping through what looked like an outdated
TV Guide
. Gaby cleared her throat, just once. When he didn’t look up, she slapped her hands on the counter and shouted:

“Hey! Jackass!”

That
certainly got his attention. His head shot up from the guide; and, after his eyes widened in momentary surprise, he scowled.

“What do you want?” he mumbled, no more pleasant today than yesterday.

“Marie’s in the back, and she’s really sick,” Gaby said curtly. “Call an ambulance.” Obviously unconvinced, the attendant sneered at Gaby. “Oh yeah? And just who the hell are you?”

“Mother freaking Teresa,” she snapped. “What do you care? Now get back there and help her before she dies and you lose your cut of the weekly profits.”

Finally, the threat of losing his paycheck seemed to break through his apathy. With a begrudging sigh, he turned to tromp over to the back room. At the same time, Gaby caught my gaze.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said through clenched teeth, “before he calls the cops on us.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

I tried not to run out of the café, and I could tell that Gaby also struggled to keep a calm pace. The moment we stepped onto the outside curb, however, we both instinctively flickered invisible again.

Eyes wide with fear, confusion, I turned to face her.

“What’s next?” I whispered, although I already knew the answer.

“What’s next,” Gaby said, “is a visit to the Mayhew family.”

By the time Gaby and I crossed from Royal onto Ursulines, I wondered whether the entire population of New Orleans—living and dead—could hear my heart racing. Given the fact that I was now some kind of rare supernatural being, maybe my heart’s pace would set it glowing again.

I struggled to keep my face impassive, expressionless. But every now and then my hands moved of their own accord, straying from my pockets to smooth my hair or straighten the hem of my tank.

It was stupid, with lives and afterlives in jeopardy, but I couldn’t help feel uncontrollably nervous about staying invisible around Joshua again. It seemed like an impossible task, considering my current mental state.

While Gaby and I walked, I gave myself a quick pep talk. I could do this. I could follow the plan upon which we’d decided: while Gaby warned the Mayhews about Ruth’s condition, I would find Annabel and confront her, reason with her if I could. I would
not
allow Joshua to witness that conversation if I could help it. I’d hurt him too much—hurt myself too much—to put him through
that
.

So many of the decisions I’d made this week revolved around my desire to protect him and the other people I loved. Although I certainly didn’t love Ruth Mayhew, I couldn’t let her suffer on my account, either. Not if my suspicions about her illness and who’d caused it were correct.

But as Gaby and I approached the Mayhews’ town house, my heart sank. Once again, no lights glowed from the windows; everything appeared shut tight. We’d missed them.

Then I remembered: today was Christmas Eve. The Mayhews always ate dinner at a fancy restaurant the night before Christmas.

I turned toward Gaby. “They’re not here. I forgot; they eat Christmas Eve dinner at one of the restaurants in the Quarter. You think they might be at Felix’s place? What was it called—Anthony’s?”

“Antoine’s,” she answered, shaking her head. “But there are, like, a bazillion restaurants open tonight. There’s no guarantee we’ll find them, even if we go to every single one.”

I groaned in frustration and looked up at the house. Then I peered more closely at it.

There, at the drawing-room window, I could see the faintest glow seeping between the slats of the shutters.

“Gaby, I think someone’s actually home,” I hissed. Without waiting for her response, I stalked over to the front window. I prepared to kneel beside it so that I could try to peek through the slats when my feet made a strange, crunching sound against the concrete. I looked down and then took an involuntary step backward, away from the substance that had made the noise.

Gray Voodoo dust.

Thick clumps of it, looking like someone had sprinkled it without taking the time to crumble it properly. A patch of dust ran all along the base of the window and then extended unevenly across the front stoop and the base of the dining-room window.

The line hadn’t been there last night while I’d waited for Joshua to sneak away from his family gathering. So someone must have sprinkled the dust recently. Judging by its shaky pattern and the intermittent breaks in the trail, someone with unsteady hands had poured it.

Maybe someone who’d been drugged.

Whoever had placed this dust on the ground, its power no longer affected me. My feet had crossed it effortlessly when I crouched to kneel. Taking advantage of this new ability, I placed my hands against the shutters and leaned close to the window.

“Ruth?” I called out loudly, fighting the urge to whisper. “Are you in there? If you are, I know that you’re sick. I’m here to help; I promise.”

“Amelia, look,” Gaby whispered, waving me over to the front door.

Apparently the Voodoo dust didn’t affect her, either, since she’d obviously crossed the line too. Facing the door, Gaby pressed one finger against the wood, and the door moved slightly inward. I pressed myself up and walked over to her.

“Someone left it open,” she hissed.

We exchanged reluctant looks and then, together, pushed the door open farther.

Inside, the foyer was almost completely black except for the glow from a single candle on a small side table. But even in the dark I could see the outline of a figure sprawled across the entry rug. When it groaned, I released an enormous sigh of relief.

“She’s still alive,” I breathed, dropping beside Ruth’s collapsed form.

“This is so not a good night for the elderly,” Gaby murmured. “Should I call an ambulance or what?”

“Ambulance. Definitely,” I said, nodding. “I think I saw a telephone in the corner of the drawing room.”

Gaby crossed behind me, and soon I heard her muted voice as she spoke with an emergency service. Listening to her speak, I had another thought.

“Hey, Gaby,” I called out. “Is there a pen and paper nearby?”

“Um, maybe. Why?”

“I need you to write down Joshua’s cell phone number and call him next. Tell him the family needs to get home, fast.”

Gaby hesitated before responding, “You sure you want me to do that?”

I bit my lip, wavering. Then I answered, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I called out Joshua’s phone number, struggling a bit with the sequence since I’d never had a reason—or the ability—to call it before tonight. Then, with a distinct sense of déjà vu, I willed myself visible and leaned in close to Ruth.

“Mrs. Mayhew. Ruth,” I whispered. “Can you hear me?”

She must have been in better shape than Marie, because her eyes fluttered open. Then, through labored gasps, she spoke.

“You … came to finish this?”

“No!” I cried softly. Immediately, I felt offended, but I forced myself to continue. “No, Mrs. Mayhew, I’m trying to help you. We think you’ve been poisoned—we’re calling an ambulance right now.”

“W-we?”

“My friend Gaby and me.”

“Ghosts,” she hissed.

“Yes,” I said defensively. “Good ones, who wouldn’t poison you. In fact, we’re so good, we’re going to wait for the ambulance to arrive. Then we’re going to wait until your family gets home so we can tell them what happened. Then I’m going to kick the crap out of your granddaughter for needlessly complicating my afterlife.”

Ruth shook her head, obviously confused by my rant. She reached up a shaky hand and tried to grab my arm. But of course her hand slid away without touching me.

“Not her. Him.”

Although her voice faltered, her eyes were suddenly clear. For the first time in days, she appeared lucid. Sharp, like the Ruth Mayhew I knew and feared.

“Him,” she repeated, obviously struggling. “He’s been … giving me … herbs. For … my headache.”

For some reason, my ears began to ring. From dread, perhaps. Or from realization.

“Alex?” I whispered.

Ruth nodded and then sank back to the floor from the effort.

So Alex
was
involved.

Whatever they’d planned for me tonight, Alex and Annabel clearly wanted both the Seer and Voodoo factions weakened, so much so that they’d drugged their leaders past the point of stupor and into danger. This wasn’t just a bad sign for Marie and Ruth—it was a bad sign for
me
.

I absently ran a hand over Ruth, trying to comfort her in some way without being able to touch her. Then I looked up at Gaby, who now leaned in the doorway of the drawing room, finished with her phone calls. Her expression told me she had no idea what to do next, either.

“Maybe we should get out of here?” she suggested. “Or at least go invisible before the paramedics show up?”

“Maybe,” I hedged, tossing another worried glance at Ruth, who appeared to have slipped back into unconsciousness.

Still feeling that inexplicable urge to soothe her, I reached out one tentative hand and let it hover above her. I felt unsure. Lost.

From the first moment Ruth saw me, she hated me—probably still did, right now. Despite all that, I couldn’t leave her here unattended. At least Marie had someone waiting with her until an ambulance arrived....

I had just turned back to Gaby, ready to suggest that we wait a few minutes longer, when something tugged roughly at my core. It yanked me backward, toward the door, just at the moment the edges of my vision started to blur. I shook my head, trying to fight both sensations, but they just grew stronger: tugging so hard that I could barely stay upright, blurring so much that I felt the sudden rush of a headache pounding at my temples.