Dangerous Calling (The Shadowminds) (22 page)

“So she made you search, and you saw Shane?”

“No—it was someone else, first. A woman. I saw her with these huge black wings. I guess it was easy to believe she was bad, you know? It was right after Katrina, when there was all this chaos. And Annette—Annette killed her...” She trailed off, and I let her.

“I should’ve known,” she said finally. “I should’ve known it wasn’t right.”

“Diana, she practically raised you—she rescued you from a mental institution. It’s no surprise you didn’t think to question her.”

“But I should’ve known. I had other visions—saw her helping people. I convinced myself it was all a show, all for her own gain...well. I was only twelve.”

Twelve years old, and forced to be complicit in a murder. I wanted to go back in time and rescue the little girl she’d been.

“Anyway, when I saw Shane, I saw him helping this woman out of some kind of cell. And he was so gentle with her, and so angry.” One of Ryan’s victims. We’d rescued her before he could kill her. “I don’t know why I knew—maybe just because I was older—but I just knew he wasn’t some evil demon. It was obvious. But she’d already seen the vision, and I knew it was a matter of time before she found him and killed him. She was going to ask me to keep looking until I found a name.”

“Why contact me, though? Why not go straight to him?”

“I thought it would be safer. If I’d found out his name, she would’ve gotten it out of my head. And besides, you were always with him, at least before—”

She stopped herself too late.

“What do you mean?” I grabbed both of her hands and tugged until she looked at me. I stopped caring about invading her privacy and poked at her mental walls. I had to know. “Before what?”

“I can’t know for sure—it’s not like that—”

“Please. Please, tell me.”

She looked up. “I’ve seen the way he dies. You kill him.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

It seemed important not to react too strongly. My injured hand spasmed, and I forced myself to breath through the weight of her words. I couldn’t panic and scare her—I couldn’t keep her from telling me more. It took me several long moments to find my voice.

“How?” It was the most I could manage.

Diana couldn’t quite look at me. “It’s fuzzy. I can’t be sure. But you’re together, the two of you, and something is happening, you both look scared, and you do that thing where you make the ice and the snow, and I think it’s too much, and he just—well...”

She trailed off, and I didn’t ask her to go on. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t imagined the same thing a dozen times in my nightmares.

“Maybe you should just look,” she said. Her voice was small.

I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I did it anyway.

Diana opened her mind to me and called up her memory of the vision. It began the same way they all had, foreign images bleeding into her mind and covering her sight.

I saw the location first—a dark, wet street, concrete sidewalk, brick alley walls. A metal fire escape dripping from a recent rain. Then I saw Shane. He was looking up at something the vision couldn’t see, and his face was set in concentration and anger.

I gripped Diana’s hand. I didn’t dare speak.

Shane looked down at something, and the vision broadened. I was standing by his side, my hair long and braided back. We were holding hands.

“It has to be now,” he said, and I nodded.

I raised my free hand and followed his gaze. Ice formed around us, at my feet and in the air. We were both focused on whatever was above us.

Just like that, I flickered out, and he was alone. He also had wings.

Magnificent. It was the only word that worked. He’d clearly made the transition—gorgeous, glossy wings spread behind him, dark green shot through with gold and deep brown, notes of black. He seemed even bigger than before, more powerful, and not just physically. His entire body was steeped in strength and threat.

“What—?”

“Just watch,” Diana said.

Shane leaped up, out of the field of the vision, wings beating like a falcon taking flight. I cried out for him, trying to force Diana’s sight to wherever he’d gone, but the vision stayed stubbornly put. Seconds passed and Shane landed, streaked with blood I knew instinctively wasn’t his. One gorgeous wing was torn, but his face was set in grim triumph.

The vision flickered again, and I was back. Shane, wingless again, was crumpled on the ground and I was crying and beating at his chest. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. It was obvious even through the layers of memory that he was dead. The water that had once dripped from the fire escape was frozen into icicles.

I let go of Diana’s hand and retreated from her mind.

“It changes,” she said. “Sometimes you’re there and sometimes you’re not.”

I nodded. I think I was in shock. The versions where he’d lived—those had been the ones where I was gone.

“I’m sorry,” Diana said. “I know you care about him.”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Things can change. You saw—there was more than one possibility. Maybe there are more. Sometimes it’s like that. Sometimes they change.”

I watched her face as she said it, wanting to believe her, but knowing I could never take the chance.

* * *

Shane came back, and I flooded my thoughts with a sea of worry about my hand, the one thing I couldn’t care less about. I got dressed in the jeans and T-shirt he’d brought me, and he drove us back to the B&B, empty of guests except for Ian and Diana. Their residence felt more permanent, now. I couldn’t help thinking Lionel would have been pleased.

“The vigil’s tonight,” he said. We were in the big kitchen trying to find something to eat. “We couldn’t wait any longer.”

“I’m glad I woke up in time. The police aren’t investigating?”

“They ruled it accidental.” Shane pulled a plastic bag full of sliced cheese out of the fridge. That and a stale loaf of French bread were going to have to do.

“That makes things easier. Where’s Mina?”

“At the funeral home. We had him cremated.”

I knew the calm way he spoke was a mask for a deep well of grief. I blinked my own tears back. I wished I’d had a chance to say goodbye, but it was better this way. I wanted to remember him as I’d known him.

I only owned one black dress. I went and got it from our condo while Shane cleaned the B&B for the vigil. Diana helped—we couldn’t stop her. By the time I returned, the house was immaculate and the food was laid out in the dining room. Lionel’s urn sat on the mantel in the living room. Beside it was a picture of him standing in the entryway of the B&B, the door open behind him, his body silhouetted by the gold light coming from the hallway. It made me smile.

Everyone in the New Orleans shadowmind community came. The Gagniers, the Heberts, all of the folks Lionel had known. Even the Robicheaus showed up, a normal married couple who’d stayed at the B&B every year on the anniversary of their long marriage. Missy Gagnier came with a platter full of lemon bars, and her daughter Lanie brought bacon-stuffed mushrooms. They set them on the table next to a feast of deviled eggs, brownies, miniature cocktail sausages—enough food to feed twice the number of people in the house. Lionel would have approved.

I only saw Mina from a distance. She and Shane were surrounded by a constant, ever-changing crowd of people, all of them wanting to cry or laugh or reminisce. I had a lesser share of mourners. They came with tearful hugs and questions about what had happened. I wore a hat to cover my missing hair, but they still stared at the scars on my face in open shock before they caught themselves, and then they couldn’t meet my eyes. They caught sight of my hand and looked away. Their unvoiced questions grew exhausting, and after an hour, I had to get away. I escaped to the third floor, where Lionel had once shared a room with Bruce. I walked through an empty guest room that overlooked the courtyard and watched from the window while Deborah Hebert poured herself a glass of white zinfandel, took a gulp, looked around and topped it off.

“I’m sorry.”

I whipped around. Ian was standing in the open doorway.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop her.”

I turned to look through the window again. “I’m not sure you could’ve.”

“And I’m sorry you lost him,” he said.

We both watched Deborah’s underage son fish a beer out of the cooler in the courtyard, and I had to smile. I recalled that Ian had lost his family, too, though hopefully not in so final a way. If we could find a way to clear his name, at least he’d be able to see them again.

“Do you think the cops are still looking for you?” I asked him.

“Don’t know. Probably.”

“I think we might have a way to help with that.” I told him about the ledger Shane had found. “Do you think it’ll be enough?”

For the first time since I’d known him, the tensions he carried in his body seemed to soften. It was the barest change, as subtle as a breath. “If you showed them I had a reason to—to defend myself. It might help.”

“Your friend Lance. He might be able to get the evidence to the right people. Right?”

Ian closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, and for once, the bubble of hope growing in his chest was so strong, even his natural guardian defenses couldn’t keep me from feeling it. “Thank you,” he said.

“I’d better go back down. I shouldn’t be gone for too long.” I turned to leave, but he put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me. The contact startled me, and then the need for a pull rose up, shoving aside the grief that had buried it. I knew something hard had flashed in my eyes, because Ian’s expression went grim.

“I knew it. It’s not any better, is it?”

I knew he meant the pulls. I knew he meant the addiction. I didn’t want to admit it, but I couldn’t find the words to lie.

“It’s worse. Isn’t it.”

I nodded, the ghost of a movement.

“What will you do?”

I stepped away from him, forcing him to drop his hand. “I’ll leave. Make myself dry out, like you said.”

Ian shook his head. “This isn’t the kind of thing you fight alone. I should know.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like having people around is going to make it easier. That’s like—like putting an alcoholic in a liquor store.”

“Didn’t say it was gonna be easy.”

I turned away from him, toward the door. “Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing.”

“Have you told him yet?”

A new grief flashed bright and hot in my chest. “I will.” I left without looking back.

* * *

My conversation with Ian unsettled me. I wanted to be alone, but the upper floors didn’t feel safe anymore. I retreated to the kitchen, hoping it would be empty, but Diana was already there, making hot chocolate on the stove. When she saw my face, she gave me a cup.

“You look like you need it,” she said, but that only made tears sting more sharply behind my eyes. It was so much like something Lionel would’ve said. My throat closed up in grief, and Diana squeezed my hand.

“I’ll let you be,” she said, and carried a platter of mugs out to the dining room.

I watched her go and sat at the kitchen table, staring at my mug. My scalp itched under my hat. I flexed my ruined hand and felt the phantom pain of my missing fingers. I’d never wanted to drink hot chocolate less in my life. It was as though my whole body was closed up, stoppered, and nothing else could ever get in. I watched the marshmallows slowly melt into foam on the surface.

“Cassie.”

I turned and saw Mina in the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes red and her light brown skin smudged dark under her eyes. I stood up as she came to me, and it was all I could do not to break down as we embraced.

“Are you okay?” I said, my face buried against her shoulder.

“No. No, not really.” Her voice was muffled too. We stayed that way for several minutes. I didn’t want to dip into her thoughts—she deserved her own space to grieve. We held each other tight and cried. It was enough.

We sat down at the broad table, and I took off my heels. The grain of the softwood felt unfamiliar through my pantyhose. Mina glanced toward the stove and teared up again.

“I guess this place belongs to you and Shane now,” I said.

Her gaze darted back to me in surprise. “I hadn’t even thought about it.” She put her hands flat on the table and curled her fingertips against the wood. “Oh, God.”

“You kept the books all those years, right? I’m sure you guys will do great.”

She looked up and met my eyes. Before she could say anything, Shane came through the swinging doors.

“I barely escaped from Raelynne Hodges,” he said, flattening himself against the wall. “You know she never gave up on Lionel. She had to tell me all about how the time was never right.” He laughed, weakly at first, but then more loudly. After a moment, Mina and I couldn’t help laughing too.

“She never figured it out?” I said.

Shane gave a helpless shrug and sat down with us. “She was going on about how it was such a shame he never married. I almost told her he did, it just wasn’t legal in Louisiana.”

“Poor Raelynne,” Mina said.

“She always was pretty silly.”

“It’s not like she never saw Lionel and Bruce together,” Shane said, but his laugh died quickly. We all went quiet as we realized Bruce still hadn’t shown up.

“I called him,” Mina said. “He was angry.”

“The last thing they did was fight.” I stared at the table. “That can’t be easy.”

Shane cleared his throat. “He still staying at his brother’s?”

“As far as I know.” Mina took out her phone, looked at it and pocketed it again.

“We should just go,” I said. “Maybe he won’t come to us, but we should just go.”

“We can’t leave all these people—” Shane began, but stopped. “You’re right. Screw it. Come on.” We all got up and headed for the back door, stopping short as it banged open. It was him.

We all stood frozen for a long minute. I didn’t know what to say. Shane opened his mouth, but he didn’t have the words, either. After a moment, Bruce just walked forward and collapsed into Shane’s embrace.

I couldn’t hear his sobs, but his body shook with them. He pulled Mina into the hug and gave huge, wheezing gasps, and I bit my fist to keep from sobbing myself.

“Always thought I’d be the one to go first,” he said finally, his voice still clotted with tears. “Thought he’d find me dead of a heart attack one day.”

Fresh tears leaked from his eyes, and he swiped messily at his nose with the back of his hand. Shane handed him a paper towel.

“‘S the way he’da wanted to go, though. You know?”

“I do,” Shane said.

Bruce gave a great, deep breath, as though he was clearing all the air from his lungs. “Got any hot chocolate?”

We all gave teary laughs, and Shane went to the stove.

The rest of the guests left us alone. One of the benefits of having mindreaders for friends—they know when you need privacy. The four of us sat around the battered kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate and telling stories. The time a guest walked in on Lionel levitating a light bulb and he convinced her the place was haunted. The time he used cumin instead of cinnamon in the cinnamon rolls.

“So you two are gonna run this place now, I guess,” Bruce said. His gaze took in Mina and Shane. When neither of them answered, he misinterpreted their silence. “Don’t worry about me, now. Lionel and I talked it over when he wrote his will. I’ve got my pension—we both always wanted you-all to have this place.”

“Not me,” Mina said quietly. We all looked at her. “I’m sorry, Shane. I know you always thought it would be me. I just don’t think I belong here anymore.”

Shane looked shocked. “I can’t run this place on my own.”

“You’ll do fine. I’ll give you my share.”

“Mina—you’re the accountant—you know you can’t just give it to me.”

“Then we’ll set it up so you can buy me out. I’ll teach you how to keep the books. It’s not hard.”

“That’s not the point, it’s—”

“I don’t want it.” Her tone silenced him. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this.” And she got up and left the room.