Every Which Way But Dead (49 page)

Hoping Newt would forget about me, I inched myself forward, trying to ignore the pain in my ankle. I slipped, sucking in my breath as the flat of my arm hit a rock, sending a shiver of pain up it. The boulder was right in front of me, and gathering myself, I wedged my knees under me. My ankle was burning agony as I gained my feet and held the rock for balance.

There was a brush of air, and Newt was beside me. “Do you want to live forever?”

The question sent a shiver through me. Damn it, Newt was becoming more interested, not less. “No,” I whispered. Hand outstretched, I limped from the rock.

“I didn't either, until I tried it.” The redwood staff clunked to the ground as Newt moved to keep even with me, black eyes eerily more alive than anyone else's I'd ever seen. My skin crawled. Something was wrong with Newt—really wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it until I realized that the minute I took my attention from Newt, I forgot what the demon looked like. Apart from those eyes.

“I know something Algaliarept doesn't,” Newt said. “I remember now. You like secrets. You're good at keeping them, too. I know all about you; you're afraid of yourself.”

I gritted my jaw as my ankle gave a twinge as I slipped on a rock. The line was just ahead. I could feel it. The sun had sunk below the horizon, halfway gone. It took seven minutes to sink once it touched the earth. Three and a half minutes. I could hear a gathering of breath from the lesser demons.
God, help me find a way out of this.

“You should be afraid of you,” Newt said. “Want to know why?”

I pulled my head up. Newt was bored out of his or her mind and looking for amusement. I didn't want to be interesting. “No,” I whispered, becoming more frightened.

An evil smile crossed Newt, emotions shifting faster than a vampire hyped up on Brimstone. “I think I will tell Algaliarept a joke. And when he's done ripping that witch apart for what he lost, I'll trade for that mark you owe him and make it mine.”

I started to shake, unable to stop my hands from trembling. “You can't do that.”

“I can. I might.” Newt twirled the staff idly, hitting a rock so it ricocheted into the dark. There was a catlike yelp of pain and a scattering of sliding rock. “And then I'll have two,” the demon said to itself, “because you won't be able to figure out how to travel the lines and will have to buy a trip out of here. From me.”

There was a cry of outrage from the watchers behind the rocks, quickly squelched.

Horrified, I came to a jerky stop, feeling the line right ahead of me.

“You want to survive,” Newt intoned, its voice dropping in pitch. “You'll do anything for it. Anything.”

“No,” I whispered, terrified because Newt was right. “I saw Lee do it. I can do it too.”

Black eyes glinting, Newt set the butt of its staff down. “You won't figure it out. You won't believe; not yet. You have to make a deal…with me.”

Frightened, I wavered on my feet, and with the next step, I stumbled into the line, feeling as if it was a stream, warm and generous, filling me up. Almost panting, I teetered, seeing the eyes around me narrow with greed and anger. I hurt. I had to get out of there. The power of the line hummed through me, peaceful and comforting.
There's no place like home.

Newt's expression went mocking, its pupil-black eyes spiteful. “You can't do it.”

“I can,” I said, my vision darkening as I almost passed out. From the deepest shadows glittered green eyes. Close. Very close. The power of the line hummed through me.
There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home,
I thought desperately, pulling energy into me, spindling it in my head. I had traveled the lines with Lee. I had seen how he had done it. All it took was him thinking about where he wanted to be. I wanted to be home. Why wasn't it working?

My knees shook as the first dark shape came out to stand with an unreal thinness, slow and hesitant. Newt looked at it, then turned slowly to me, one eyebrow raised. “One favor, and I'll send you back.”

Oh God. Not another one. “Leave me alone!” I shouted, the rough edges of a rock scraping my fingers as I flung it at an approaching form and almost fell over. A gasp sounding like a sob came from me as I caught my balance. The lesser demon ducked, then straightened. Three more pairs of eyes glowed behind it.

I jumped as Newt suddenly was before me. The light was gone. Black eyes slammed into me, delving into my soul and clenching until fear squeezed out to bubble up. “You can't do it. No time to learn,” Newt said, and I shuddered. Here was power, raw and swirling. Newt's soul was so black it was almost unseen. I could feel its aura press against me, starting to slip into mine with the force of Newt's will. It could take me over if it wanted. I was nothing. My will was nothing.

“Owe me or die in this squalid pile of broken promises,” Newt said. “But I can't send you through the lines with a thin tie called home. Home won't do it. Think on Ivy. You love her more than that damn church,” it said, its honesty more cutting than any physical pain.

Crying out in angry, high voices, the shadows bunched and lunged.

“Ivy!” I shouted, accepting the bargain and willing myself to her: the smell of her sweat when we sparred, the taste of her Brimstone cookies, the sound of her steps, and the rise of her eyebrows when she was trying not to laugh.

I recoiled as Newt's black presence was suddenly in my head.
How many mistakes can one life survive?
echoed crystallinelike in my mind, but whose thought it was I didn't know.

Newt pressed the air from my lungs, and my mind shattered. I was everywhere and nowhere. The perfect disconnection of the line raced through me, making me exist in every line on the continent.
Ivy!
I thought again, starting to panic until I remembered her, fastening on her indomitable will and the tragedy of her desires.
Ivy. I want to go to Ivy.

With a savage, jealous thought, Newt snapped my soul back together. Gasping, I covered my ears as a loud pop shook me. I fell forward, my elbows and knees smacking into gray tile. People screamed, and I heard the crash of metal. Papers flew, and someone shouted to call the I.S.

“Rachel!” Ivy cried.

I looked up past my falling hair to see I was in what looked like a hospital hallway. Ivy was sitting in an orange plastic chair, her eyes red and her cheeks blotchy, shock in her wide brown eyes. David was beside her, dirty and disheveled, Kisten's blood on his hands and chest. A phone rang and went unanswered.

“Hi,” I said weakly, my arms starting to tremble. “Uh, could one of you maybe check me in? I don't feel so good.”

Ivy stood, reaching out. I tipped forward. My cheek hit the tile. The last thing I remember was my hand touching hers.

“
C
oming!” I called out, my pace quickening as I strode through the dusky sanctuary to the door, my snow boots thumping to leave small inverse divots of snow behind. The huge dinner bell that was our doorbell clanked again, and I picked up the pace. “I'm coming. Don't ring the bell again or the neighbors will call the I.S., for God's sake.”

The reverberations were still echoing when I reached for the handle, the nylon of my coat making a sliding sound. My nose was cold and my fingers were frozen, the warmth of the church not having had enough time to warm them up. “David!” I exclaimed, opening the door to find him on the softly lit stoop.

“Hi, Rachel,” he said, looking comfortably attractive with his glasses, long coat, thick stubble, and his cowboy hat dusted with snow. The bottle of wine in his hand helped. An older man stood beside him in a leather jacket and jeans. He was taller than David, and I eyed his lightly wrinkled but trim physique in question. A wisp of snow-white hair peeped from under his hat. There was a twig in his grip, unquestionably a symbolic offering for the solstice bonfire out back, and I realized he was a witch.
David's old partner?
I thought. A limo idled softly behind them, but I was guessing they had come in the blue four-door parked in front of it.

“Rachel,” David said, drawing my gaze back to them. “This is Howard, my old partner.”

“Pleased to meet you, Howard,” I said, extending my hand.

“The pleasure is mine.” Smiling, he slipped off a glove to extend a softly wrinkled, freckled hand. “David told me all about you, and I invited myself. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all,” I said earnestly. “The more, the merrier.”

Howard pumped my hand up and down three times before releasing it. “I had to come,” he said, green eyes glinting. “The chance to meet the woman who can outrun David
and
put up with his working style doesn't come along very often. You two did good with Saladan.”

His voice was deeper than I expected, and the feeling of being evaluated strengthened. “Thank you,” I said, mildly embarrassed. I shifted back from the doorway in invitation. “We're all back by the fire. Come on in. It's easier to go through the church than stumble through the garden the back way.”

Howard slipped inside in a whiff of redwood while David knocked the snow from his boots. He hesitated, looking up at the new sign above the door. “Nice,” he said. “Just get it?”

“Yeah.” Mood going soft, I leaned out to look up at it. The deeply engraved brass plaque had been bolted to the front of the church above the door. It had come with a light, and the single bulb lit the stoop in a soft glow. “It's a solstice gift for Ivy and Jenks.”

David made a sound of approval laced with understanding. I flicked my attention from him back to the sign.
VAMPIRE CHARMS; LLC. TAMWOOD, JENKS, AND MORGAN
. I loved it, and I hadn't minded paying extra to make it a rush order. Ivy's eyes had gotten very wide when I pulled her out on the stoop that afternoon to see it. I thought she was going to cry. I'd given her a hug right there on the landing as it was obvious she wanted to give me one but was afraid I'd take it the wrong way. She was my friend, damn it. I could hug her if I wanted.

“I'm hoping it helps stop the rumors about me being dead,” I said, ushering him in. “The paper was really quick to print my obituary, but because I'm not a vamp, they won't put anything in the risen-again announcements unless I pay for it.”

“Imagine that,” David said. I could hear the laughter in his voice, and I gave him a dry look as he stomped his boots a final time and came in. “You look good for a dead witch.”

“Thanks.”

“Your hair is almost back to normal. How about the rest of you?”

I shut the door, flattered at the sound of concern in his voice. Howard stood in the middle of the sanctuary, his eyes ranging over Ivy's piano and my desk. “I'm doing okay,” I said. “My stamina is shot, but it's coming back. My hair, though?” I tucked a curl of reddish-brown hair behind an ear and the soft knit hat my mother had given me that afternoon. “The box said it washes out in five shampoos,” I said sourly. “I'm still waiting.”

Somewhat peeved at the reminder of my hair, I led the way into the kitchen, the two men trailing behind. Actually, my hair was the least of my worries. Yesterday I had found a scar with a familiar circle-and-slash pattern on the arch of my left foot; Newt's claim of a favor. I owed two demons, but I was alive. I was alive and was no one's familiar. And finding the mark there had been better than waking up with a big N tattooed on my forehead.

David's steps faltered as he saw the plates of goodies laid out on the table. Ivy's workspace had been pushed into a three-by-three-foot section, the rest was full of cookies, fudge, cold cuts, and crackers. “Help yourself,” I said, refusing to get worked up about things currently out of my control. “Do you want to nuke your wine before we go out?” I asked, eating a slice of salami. “I've got a pitcher to warm it up in.” I could use my new charm, but it wasn't reliable, and I was tired of burning my tongue.

The clunk of the wine as it hit the table was loud. “You drink it warm?” David said, sounding appalled as he looked at the microwave.

“Ivy and Kisten do.” Seeing the Were hesitate, I gave the pot of spiced cider on the stove a quick stir. “We can warm up half and put the rest in a snow bank if you want,” I added.

“Sure,” David said, his short fingers manipulating the foil-wrapped top.

Howard began filling a plate, but at David's pointed look, he started. “Mmmm!” the older witch said abruptly, plate in hand. “Mind if I go out back and introduce myself?” He wiggled the twig sandwiched between his hand and the foam plate in explanation. “I haven't been to a solstice burning in a long time.”

A smile came over me. “Go right on out. The door is through the living room.”

David and Howard exchanged another look, and the witch found his way. I heard a soft rise of voices in greeting as he opened the door. David exhaled slowly. Something was up.

“Rachel,” he said. “I've got a paper for you to sign.”

My smile froze. “What did I do?” I blurted. “Was it breaking Lee's car?”

“No,” he said, and my chest tightened when his eyes dropped.
Oh God. It must be bad.

“What is it?” I set the spoon in the sink and turned, gripping my elbows.

David unzipped his coat and pulled out a trifolded paper and handed it to me. Taking his bottle, he started to open it. “You don't have to sign it if you don't want to,” he said, glancing at me from under his cowboy hat. “I won't be offended. Really. You can say no. It's okay.”

I went cold, then hot, as I read the simply worded statement, wonder in me as I looked up and met his anxious eyes. “You want me to be a member of your pack?” I stammered.

“I don't have one,” he rushed to explain. “You'd be the only one in it. I'm a registered loner but my company won't fire someone with tenure if they're an alpha male or female.”

I could say nothing and he rushed to fill the silence.

“I, uh, feel bad for trying to bribe you,” he said. “It's not like we're married or anything, but it gives you the right to get your insurance through me. And if either of us is hospitalized, we have access to the medical records and have a say as to what happens if the other is unconscious. I don't have anyone to make those kind of decisions for me, and I'd rather have you than a court or my siblings.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “You can come to the company picnic, too.”

My gaze fell to the paper, then rose to his stubbled face, then back to the paper. “What about your old partner?”

He peeked over the paper to look at the print. “It takes a female to make a pack.”

“Oh.” I stared at the form. “Why me?” I asked, honored he'd ask but bewildered. “There must be lots of Were women who would jump at the chance.”

“There are. And that's just it.” Dropping back, he rested against the island counter. “I don't want a pack. Too much responsibility. Too many ties. Packs grow. And even if I went into this with another Were with the understanding that it was an agreement on paper and nothing else, she would expect certain things, and so would her kin.” He looked at the ceiling, his eyes showing his age. “And when those things weren't provided, they would start to treat her like a whore instead of an alpha bitch. I won't have that problem with you.” He met my eyes. “Will I?”

I blinked, starting slightly. “Ah, no.” A smile quirked the corner of my mouth.
Alpha bitch? That sounded about right.
“Gotta pen?” I asked.

David exhaled with a soft puff, relief in his eyes. “We need three witnesses.”

I couldn't stop grinning. Wait until I told Ivy. She'd have kittens.

We both spun to the window as a whoosh of flame and a shout rose high. Ivy threw a second bough of evergreen on the bonfire, and the fire billowed up again. She was taking to my family's tradition of a solstice fire with an unsettling enthusiasm.

“I can think of three people off the top of my head,” I said, jamming it into a back pocket.

David nodded. “We don't have to do it tonight. But the fiscal year is coming up, and we'll want to file it before then so you can start your benefits and get a line in the new catalog.”

I was on tiptoe to reach a pitcher for the wine, and David reached up and got it for me. “There's a catalog?” I asked as I dropped to my heels.

His eyes were wide. “You want to remain anonymous? That costs extra, but okay.”

I shrugged, not knowing. “What's everyone going to say when you show up at the company picnic with me?”

David poured half the wine into the pitcher and set it to heat in the microwave. “Nothing. They all think I'm rabid anyway.”

The smile wouldn't leave me as I ladled out a mug of spiced cider. His motive might be slanted—wanting the extra security for his job—but we would both benefit. So it was with a much improved mood that we headed for the back door, his warmed wine and half-empty bottle in his hands, and my spiced cider in mine. The heat of the church had taken the chill from me, and I led the way into the living room.

David's steps slowed while he took in the softly glowing room. Ivy and I had decorated, and purple, red, gold, and green were everywhere. Her leather stocking had looked lonely on the mantel, so I had bought a red and green knit one with a bell on the toe, embracing any holiday that got me presents. Ivy had even hung a little white stocking for Jenks that she had taken from her sister's doll collection, but the jar of honey wouldn't come close to fitting in it.

Ivy's Christmas tree glowed in the corner, looking ethereal. I'd never had one before, and I felt honored she had let me help her decorate it with tissue-paper-wrapped ornaments. We had made a night of it as we listened to music and ate the popcorn that never made it onto a string.

There were only two things under it: one for me, one for Ivy, both from Jenks. He was gone, but his presents to us had been left behind in opposite bedrooms.

I reached for the handle of the new door, a lump in my throat. We had opened them already—neither one of us were good at waiting. Ivy had sat and stared at the Bite-me-Betty doll, her jaw clenched and her breathing almost nonexistent. I hadn't been much better, all but crying upon finding the pair of cell phones in their foam box. One was for me, the other, much smaller one, was for Jenks. According to the receipt still in the box, he had activated it last month and even put himself on speed dial on mine.

Yanking open the door, I held it for David, my jaw clenched. I'd get him to come back. If I had to hire a pilot to write my apology in the sky, I would get him to come back.

“David,” I said as he passed. “If I give you something, will you take it to Jenks?”

He glanced at me from the first step down. “Maybe,” he said warily.

I grimaced. “It's just some seeds. I couldn't find anything in my language of flowers book that said, ‘I'm sorry. I'm an ass,' so I went with forget-me-nots.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding more sure. “I can do that.”

“Thanks.” It was a whisper, but I was sure he heard me over the calls at his arrival.

I took the heated wine from David and placed it near the fire. Howard looked content talking to Keasley and Ceri, sneaking unsure glances at Takata lurking in the more-certain shadows of the oak tree. “Come on over,” I said to David as Kisten tried to get his attention. Ivy's sister was prattling next to him, and he looked exhausted. “I want you to meet Takata.”

The midnight air was crisp, almost painfully dry, and I smiled at Ivy when I saw her trying to explain to Ceri the art of making a s'more. The puzzled elf didn't understand how layering chocolate between a sugary grain product and spun confection could possibly taste good. Her words, not mine. I was sure her opinion would change after she ate one.

I felt Kisten's eyes on me from around the lowering flames and I stifled a shiver. The come-and-go light played on his face, not unattractively thinner after his stint in the hospital. My thoughts of Nick had waned to a soft ache under the living vamp's attentions. Kist was here, and Nick wasn't. The reality was, Nick hadn't truly been here for months. He hadn't called or sent a solstice card, and he had intentionally left no way for me to reach him. It was time to move on.

Takata shifted his perch atop the picnic table in case we wanted to sit. The concert earlier tonight had gone off without a hitch, and since Lee wasn't around, Ivy and I watched from backstage. Takata had dedicated “Red Ribbons” to our firm, and half the crowd had waved their lighters in tribute thinking I was still dead.

I had only been joking when I invited him to my bonfire, but I was glad he came. He seemed to relish that no one was fawning over him as he sat contentedly in the background. I recognized that distant look on his lined face from when Ivy was planning a run, and wondered if his next album might have a song about sparks among the frost-blackened arms of an oak.