Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) (23 page)

C
hapter 41

I froze after he fell, not sure what to do. I knew next to nothing about the draugr’s physiology. Boundary magic had sustained him, but if my own experiences were any indication, he wasn’t exactly dead—more like in stasis, waiting for the medical intervention or passing of time that would allow his biology to restart.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

My knife was sharp, but I only had one good hand. Cradling my injured arm, I scooted painfully across the tiles, slogging through the blood until I reached the shotgun, which lay at the far end of the tiles. I dug in my coat pocket for more rounds, and managed to reload using mostly just one hand. I couldn’t slam-fire one-handed, so I had to painstakingly pump the shotgun, hold it in the exact position I wanted it on Lysander’s neck, and squeeze the trigger with my left hand. Then I propped the shotgun against my body, pumped it again, and repeated.

On the third shot, Lysander’s spinal cord blew apart.

Only then did I let myself fall.

Lysander had a disposable phone on him, so I was able to call Lily. I knew Quinn’s number by heart too, but I didn’t have the guts to call him myself. Lily promised that she and Simon were on the way to help, and I eyed Lysander’s body and asked her to bring clothes, some baggies, and an ax. The last request clearly bewildered her, but she seemed too relieved to hear from me to ask questions. I asked her to get Quinn to send the Denver cleanup crew to the Botanic Gardens right away to begin covering our tracks. I had no idea how they were going to explain the dead guard, the withered plants, or the damaged buildings, but I didn’t actually give a shit. I was done.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I lowered myself onto the sloping dead grass and let my eyes drift shut.

An hour later, everyone had arrived. The Denver cleanup crew, a man and a woman I’d seen a couple of times before, immediately got to work on dismembering Lysander’s body. It sounded grisly, but dismemberment wouldn’t actually kill him—not that I would have been sorry if it did. While they chopped—looking alarmingly well-practiced—Simon got to work bagging up some of Lysander’s blood. Thanks to the tiles and a small Wet Vac he was able to collect quite a bit of it, and he also took some samples for his own experiments. I only watched him for a second, but he had a dopey grin on his face as he labeled sample bags. For Simon, I’d essentially declared an extra Christmas this year. Lysander was an actual conduit, and studying his samples would completely reenergize all the studies Simon had been doing for the last six months.

Quinn hadn’t come with them, but I hadn’t really expected him to. Someone had to stay with Maven’s body and keep it safe in case Lysander had other deputies.

And I’d pressed him not to worry about me.

Lily, on the other hand, came straight over to me, took one look at my wrist and my various bruises, and ordered me to go to the hospital immediately. Since I was covered in Lysander’s blood and there was nowhere we could quickly shower, she dragged me to a garden hose and helped me out of my clothes, casting looks around us to see if anyone else was watching. I didn’t give a damn, myself. Anyone who really wanted to see me naked could have at it.

It was a warm spring night, but I shivered a little in the night air as Lily picked up the spray nozzle. “Are you sure?” she asked nervously. “This water has to be pretty cold.”

“Just get it over with.”

When the icy water had sloughed off all the blood and I was dressed in a set of Lily’s yoga clothes, I went over to Simon, who crouched next to Lysander’s remains, scribbling notes in a small Moleskine. He looked up as I approached and, without a word between us, took off his canvas jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. I smiled my thanks, and he volunteered to personally clean off my weapons and get them back to me. He
was
excited.

I stepped closer, hoping no one from the Denver team would overhear. “Si, I need you to take possession of
every single one
of those body parts,” I said in a low voice. “Get them to your skin beetles, okay?” He gave me a curious look, but I just shook my head, my expression suggesting we’d talk later. “If anyone challenges you, use Maven’s name,” I whispered. “I’ll take the heat.”

His expression grew serious, but he just nodded. “Are you going to be okay?” he called as I struggled back toward an impatient Lily.

“Eventually.”

Lily drove me to one of the biggest hospitals in Denver, where she told the hospital staff that I had been in a tractor accident on my farm. A car accident would have been more plausible, but in that case I would have arrived by ambulance, with the police in tow. A kind nurse did ask specifically about the bruises on my neck and around my eye, which were clearly older than the others. I explained that I had been mugged a couple of days ago, and it was a completely separate incident. That raised skeptical eyebrows, but no one challenged me directly.

After I was admitted, Lily had quite a few suggestions for the intake nurses. I smiled and let my attention wander as she bustled me around to X-ray and CT technicians, never leaving my side. When the final count was tallied in the early morning hours, I had three broken ribs, a bruised kidney, a broken wrist that would eventually require surgery, and a concussion.

I had gotten off easy.

They made me stay in the hospital overnight to monitor the kidney problem, and I was hurting too much to protest. Then I was on too much morphine to protest. And then I was too asleep to protest.

I heard snatches of conversation as I slept, and voices that seemed so familiar, but I tuned it all out. When I opened my eyes again, sunlight was streaming in through hospital curtains, and the clock on the wall said 4:00. I’d been out for more than twelve hours.

There was something in my hand. Lifting it seemed like too much work, so my eyes wandered to my left. And met the warm brown eyes of John Wheaton.

Even through the morphine haze, my mouth dropped open with shock.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said frankly.

I was so surprised that I laughed, a choking noise that probably sounded a lot more like asphyxiation than humor. John winced and apologized, but I shook my head a little. “S’okay,” I mumbled. Then I finally realized why he was here. My parents were my emergency contacts. Oh, crap. They knew. I groaned. “How much trouble am I in?”

John held his hands about three feet apart. “Your folks were pretty freaked out. Your dad couldn’t fly because his back is acting up again, so he and Christy are driving back. Charlie and I caught a flight this morning. She’s with Cara right now.”

“Surprised my mom didn’t come instead,” I mumbled.

John gave me the half-smile I knew as well as my own face in the mirror. “I insisted.”

Joy blossomed inside me, but then his face turned stony and he added, “I figured you probably wouldn’t be able to tell them whatever really happened, and might not have had time to cook up a story yet.”

“John . . .”

He sighed, pulling back from me. He stood up and paced a few feet away. “I know. It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault.” The words were harsh, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded heartsick.

“John . . .” I said again. “She’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to her, I swear.”

He spun around, looking incredulous. “You . . . you think
that’s
why I’m upset? That I’m worried about Charlie?”

My brow furrowed, which somehow managed to hurt a little. “Why else would you be upset?”

“For the love of . . . Lex! I’m worried about
you
, you idiot!” He dropped back into the chair, giving me a completely exasperated look. “I know Charlie’s going to be okay. Of
course
Charlie’s going to be okay, because you would die before you let anything happen to her. And you told me you can’t die.” He gestured to the tubes in my good arm, and the taping and heavy neon cast holding together my broken wrist. “But look at what you’re putting yourself through! Look at how broken you are, all in service to Charlie! How can I live with that? How can I let that go on, while I sit around doing nothing?”

I stared at him, openmouthed.
That
was what was bothering him this whole time? Then why had he stopped having me babysit on Fridays?

Because he didn’t want to be any more indebted to you than he already felt
, I answered myself. We were both idiots.

“You’re not doing nothing,” I said when I could manage it. “You’re raising a toddler by yourself, holding down a demanding job, and putting up with two different nutty families. I’d rather have my gig than yours.”

It was his turn to laugh then, and I saw him brush away tears with the back of his hand. But he shook his head. “It’s not enough. You’re risking everything, and I can’t even . . . it’s not enough.”

I didn’t need Sam’s voice in the back of my head to know what to say this time. “But Charlie needs her father more than anything I could ever do for her. She needs you home every day, changing diapers and singing songs and stepping on Legos. Having an aunt is great. Having a parent is imperative.”

His face softened as he finally relented. He reached out and squeezed my good fingers. “I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too. And I love Charlie.”

“I know you do, Allie. She’s as much yours as she is mine.” He gave my fingers a final squeeze and stood up. “I should let you rest now.”

I snagged his hand. “Hang on. Can I borrow your phone for a minute?”

He raised an eyebrow, not unlike Quinn, but handed it over. I opened a new text message and addressed it to all the members of my family, including my parents. By the time I got all the names in I was sick of typing with one hand, so I gave it back to John to take dictation. “FYI, Lex was in a minor car accident last night, getting checked out at BCH. She’s fine, just a broken wrist.” It didn’t hurt that my actual car was in the shop by now, thanks to Simon’s arrangements.

Before he could hit “Send,” I asked John, “What do you think for emoticons?” I pretended to give the matter serious thought. “Is there one with like a tiny ambulance? Maybe an exploding car?”

“I do
not
emoticon,” he said airily as he sent the text. He pocketed the phone and kissed my forehead. “I’ll come visit in the morning with Charlie, okay?”

“That would be nice.”

As he walked away, a thought sprang to life in my brain, out of nowhere, and I heard myself blurt, “Hey, John? What made you decide to go to Disney World?”

He paused on his way to the door. For a moment he looked bewildered. “I . . . I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it or anything. I was just going to do a dinner for Charlie’s birthday, keep things low-key, but then . . . I don’t know.”

I waved him on. “Never mind. I’m just glad you guys had fun.”

When he had disappeared down the hall, I let the smile fade from my face, feeling a sudden ache of grief. Emil. He must have gotten one of the Denver vampires to press John into taking Charlie and my parents out of town. I was sure it hadn’t been Lysander—he would have just killed anyone in his path. Hell, he’d probably told Emil to kill John, Charlie, and my parents to pave the way for Emil to swoop in and pose as my long-lost family member. But my brother had chosen to spare them. Charlie was, after all, his niece, too.

Maybe Sam had been right about Emil after all.

C
hapter 42

After John left, I called Elise to check in. I had to spend a little time reassuring her that I was okay and she didn’t need to visit me in the hospital. As much as I loved my cousin, if anyone would recognize that my injuries didn’t line up with my cover story, it would be her.

“Oh, hey,” I said after convincing her not to rush over. “My friend Lily thought she saw you at her yoga class last night. Any chance it was actually you?” Elise had exactly as much patience for yoga as I did.

There was a pause, and then Elise said, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?”

“I, um, drank most of a bottle of wine last night,” she admitted. “I passed out on the couch at like eight-thirty, woke up with weird bruises. I don’t
think
I got up and made my way to drunken yoga, but if asked to testify under oath . . .”

I laughed. We talked a little bit about her recent pressures at work and how the police were starting to think the two dead bodies were just a bizarre coincidence. Maybe Quinn could nudge that theory along a bit. She didn’t mention any weirdness at the Botanic Gardens, which just meant that the cleanup crew in Denver had done its job. If the poor security guard’s body was ever found, they would make sure there was an obvious cause of death.

I checked myself out of the hospital a few hours later, ignoring the protests of two doctors and several nurses. They really just wanted me to rest in bed for the next few days, though, and I could do that at the house. As a concession to their efforts, I did call my cousin Anna to drive me home. I bought a scarf in the hospital gift shop to cover the bruises on my neck, and after exclaiming over my cast and variety of bruises for a few minutes, she didn’t press me with more questions about my “accident.” Which was part of why I’d called Anna instead of Elise.

I’d put on Simon’s oversized canvas jacket over the yoga top, and when I reached out to push the elevator button I automatically tugged up one sleeve. “Ooh!” Anna said, seizing my good arm. “New tat?”

“Oh. Um. Not super new,” I said, instinctively tugging down the sleeve. Then I remembered myself. “Here, check it out.” I slipped off that side of the jacket, showing off the intricate swirls of ink on my left forearm.

“A griffin!” Anna squealed. “That is so cool! Am I the inspiration?”

“Definitely,” I told her. “I’ve got one on the other arm, too.” I waved the cast.

She threw her arms around me, then reared back when I grunted in pain. “Oh! Sorry! But seriously, that is just . . . wow. What a fantastic design!”

While Anna drove toward the cabin I borrowed her phone—I really needed to go find mine at some point—and called Jake. He insisted on keeping all my animals at his clinic for one more night so I could rest. He promised to deliver them to the cabin in several trips the following day.

Anna wanted to sleep over and keep an eye on me, but I insisted I was just going to take some painkillers and go to sleep again, so there was no point in her hanging around.

The cabin was strangely silent after she left. It was a bit relaxing not to have animals prowling around fighting over the cat food, but mostly I missed the company of Dopey and Pongo, and the joyful energy of Chase and Cody. I even missed the cats, though they generally regarded me as an employee who occasionally moonlighted as furniture.

I took the painkillers, as promised, but I couldn’t seem to fall asleep. At eight-thirty, I was lying in my bed, scratching at the edges of my cast.

I wanted to call him. I
really
wanted to call him. But what would I even say?
Sorry I brainwashed you?
Look, honey, it was for your own good?
Everything turned out okay, so let’s just move on?
It all sounded condescending, insulting, and just generally terrible.

But I missed him.

At nine-thirty, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I unfolded the covers, carefully climbed out of bed, and stepped into some old Toms. I was still wearing Lily’s yoga clothes—they were too tight for me to take off by myself with the cast on, and I’d forgotten to ask Anna for help before she left—but I managed to thread my cast through the sleeve of Simon’s jacket again, and drape a scarf around my neck. Then I called a cab.

I didn’t know where they had moved Maven, so I asked the cab driver to take me to Magic Beans, figuring Quinn might be there tying up loose ends or dealing with the business stuff. Or at least someone there would know where he was. The cabdriver eyed me in the rearview mirror the whole time, although I couldn’t really blame him, all things considered.

The ride into downtown Boulder cost more than I made in half a shift at the Depot. When I finally walked into the coffee shop, the same kid at the front counter had his nose stuffed in a textbook, and I remembered that finals were happening this week. It felt like Maven had summoned Quinn and me here to tell us about the belladonna at least a year ago, but it had only been a few days.

Shaking my head, I walked straight past the student and back to Maven’s office door, which was ajar. “Quinn?” I said, pushing it open.

He wasn’t in there. Instead, Maven was sitting behind her desk, dressed in a shapeless lime-green top that wouldn’t flatter anyone. She had about fifteen necklaces heaped around her neck, and her thick glasses were pushed up high on her nose. In other words, she looked completely normal. For Maven.

“Uh . . . hi . . .” I said stupidly.

She smiled, but looked nearly as surprised to see me as I was to see her. “Hello, Lex. Would you close the door, please?”

I did as she asked, then made my way toward her desk, sort of hovering in front of it. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I said. I would have hugged Elise or Lily in this situation, but I felt too awkward with Maven. “You look like . . . nothing happened.”

She gave me a wry smile. “Mostly thanks to you, I’m told.” She picked up her cell phone off the desk and sent a brief text. “Conduit blood is quite extraordinary.”

“I had no idea it would work so fast.”

She nodded. “Last night Quinn filled me in on most of what happened while I was . . . out,” she continued. “I wanted you to know I will personally be making sure Ardie Atwood is held responsible for her role.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. I hadn’t been sure what to do about Ardie. I could have asked Maven what she planned to do to the duplicitous witch, but I decided I didn’t actually care. Whatever happened to Ardie, she deserved. “Um, do you know where Quinn is?” I asked instead.

“I believe he’s on his way to St. Luke’s in Denver, trying to visit you,” she said mildly. She gestured to her phone. “I just texted to let him know you’re here.”

“Oh.” My face fell as I realized the implications. I’d been so afraid to talk to Quinn that I hadn’t mentioned I was leaving the hospital. Stupid.

“Sit down, Lex. We have a lot to talk about.”

It was almost easier to stand than to jostle my ribs and kidney, but I did as she asked, gingerly settling into one of her visitor chairs. She offered to get me something to drink or eat, but I just shook my head. There was too much I wanted to know.

“You knew who my father was the first time we met, didn’t you?”

She nodded, unperturbed. “Your bloodline was too strong for you to be anything but Lysander’s child.”

“A deathling,” I said distastefully. That had been Lysander’s word for it. “So when you hired me, it was for . . . what? Bait? Insurance?”

Her face softened. “Lex . . .”

“Just tell me the truth, please,” I said, trying to sound professional. “I know I’m your employee, but I do believe I have earned it.”

Maven sat up in her chair, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “You’re right. But you have to remember that when we first met, I was trying
not
to take an active role in running the state. My intention was always to stay in the wings and let Itachi keep things going.” Vampires don’t usually fidget, but her small hand rose to tuck her orange hair behind her ears. “Then you walked in here, and I couldn’t believe it. I’d never heard of one of Lysander’s concubines escaping from his little harem.”

“But why hire me?”

“It was an impulsive decision, but not a bad one. I knew right away that someday Lysander would come for you. You wouldn’t be able to stand against him on your own, but together, I thought you and I had a chance. Me for revenge, and you for independence from your family ties.”

“Why not just
tell me
that?”

She arched an eyebrow. “First, because Itachi had no knowledge of my past, and I had no intention of telling him. But would you have believed me? You’d just been told about the Old World, that your niece was in danger, that you were a witch. If I had added that your father was a conduit and you yourself could raise the dead, what would you have done?”

I considered. “At the time? I probably would have laughed all the way to the mental hospital. But there have been plenty of opportunities since Itachi died.”

“You’re right,” she said, and her tone surprised me. I’d been expecting a fight, I guess, or at least an admonishment for challenging her. But Maven wasn’t like that. She didn’t need to flaunt her power or use it to put me in my place. She understood what she could do, and wasn’t threatened by me. How many vampires could I say that about? Two?

“But I guess I just . . . didn’t want to. Everything was so unstable, and you were just beginning to understand what you were. I wanted to give you a chance to trust me, to see that I wasn’t your enemy, before explaining.”

I sighed, but nodded. Would I have done things any differently, in her place? “Besides,” she added, “I wanted to give myself a chance to get control of this state before we challenged Lysander.” Her smile was rueful. “It’s only now beginning to happen, thanks to you and Quinn. If you hadn’t saved me . . .”

“And Simon and Lily,” I reminded her. “They were also instrumental.”

“Of course.” Maven studied me. “What will you do now?”

For a moment I thought she meant from an occupational standpoint, which seemed silly—I wouldn’t have gone through all of this if I weren’t planning to keep my job with Maven. But I saw her steady gaze, and I understood what she meant. I thought of the remnants at the Boulderado, and the poor ghosts in this very building.

“I’m going to spend a week or two in town getting better, and taking care of a few things,” I said evenly. “Then I’m going to take Lysander’s bones and scatter them around the world.” She nodded, knowing I wasn’t finished. “And after
that
,” I continued, “I’m going to find the Knights of Death and burn down their fucking clubhouse.” Five hundred years of kidnapping and raping boundary witches was five hundred years too many. I wasn’t about to let them have even one more.

Maven just smiled, as if that was exactly what she’d expected. “You’ll need some vacation time, then,” she said thoughtfully. “And a raise.”

“A raise?”

She nodded. “You’ve saved my life three times in the last year, Lex. I’m funding your trip to disperse the draugr’s bones, and when you get back, there will be a raise waiting for you.” Her smile widened. “It will be substantial.”

I opened my mouth to protest that I hadn’t earned it, but . . . the truth was, I had. So I snapped my mouth shut and gave her a short nod. “Thank you.” I would need to figure out what to do about my half-assed position at the Flatiron Depot, but I had a couple of weeks to think about it.

“You’re welcome. I’d offer for you to take Quinn along, but—”

“You need him here,” I finished. “I understand.”

“I was going to say that you’ll have an easier time traveling without a vampire, but yes. That too.”

I stayed for a few more minutes while we worked out a few details for my trip, including a cover story for the humans in my life. When I finally left Maven’s office, I saw Quinn leaning against the wall in the big room, giving me the crooked smile that made it impossible not to smile back. He was wearing jeans and an old leather jacket, and I wanted to run to him so badly it sent a fresh ache through my body. But I held myself back.

Quinn raised his hand, showing me a small object. My cell phone.

“You found it,” I said, relieved.

I went over to take it from him, but he bent his elbow, holding it out of my reach. “You hid it from me.”

I couldn’t read his expression. “I was trying to protect you,” I said.

“By pressing me?”

I winced, but stood my ground. “Yes.”

He shook his head. “I understand why you did it. But a relationship where one person uses mind control on the other is not one I want to be in.”

I bit my lip. Was he breaking up with me? Could I blame him if he was?

But he handed me the cell phone, crowding into my personal space. He leaned down and touched his forehead to mine. “Don’t let it happen again, okay?” he said huskily.

“I promise,” I whispered. And I kissed him.

When I finally pulled away, I brushed a couple of fresh tears off my cheeks and tucked the cell phone into my pocket. “Um, can you give me a ride home? I took a cab here.”

“Of course. But you should know—you got a text from Elise about an hour ago,” he said. We were moving toward the exit now. “I didn’t mean to read it, but it came up on the screen. She and Natalie are playing Settlers of Catan with Paul and Jake tonight. They wanted you to come over. She said she could pick you up if you weren’t able to drive.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said dismissively. I had no intention of going anywhere except bed.

But Quinn added, “I thought we could both go.”

I stopped walking and cocked an eyebrow at him, trying not to let my heartbeat rise. “Everyone will be eating and drinking,” I pointed out. “Alcohol. And human food.”

He gave me an innocent look. “I’m actually allergic to alcohol,” he said solemnly. “And nuts, and strawberries, and gluten . . . it’s tragic, really, all my allergies. I have to be very careful.”

I just barely managed to suppress a grin. “What happened to ‘we can’t tell your family we’re serious’?”

“Allison Alexandra Luther,” he said, taking my hand. “Some things are worth the risk.”