I See Me (26 page)

I was so cold again. Even after all the running. Clammy, but cold.

My phone beeped. I read the text message as I thumbed the button to mute the phone.

>
I know it. I own it.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as I texted back.

I need an address.

> I’ll send you a map link.

I’m on a bus now.

> I’ll send you the route numbers then.

I’m coming alone.

I expected another message quickly, but ended up waiting long enough that my thoughts wandered. I started remembering, experiencing the vision again. I flinched when my phone buzzed in my hand.

>
You won’t be alone for long.

A link to a bus route map appeared in the next text bubble. Then:

> I look forward to seeing you again, Rochelle Hawthorne.

His use of my supposed birth name unsettled me, as I was sure it was supposed to. It also reminded me that there were things the sorcerer could tell me — knowledge he’d alluded to about my family. The idea of that was momentarily intoxicating.

But Beau was my family now.

I’d made it this far in life without knowing anything of my family, or my magic. I could continue without knowing who my mother was, without knowing if she was like me, and without knowing if she’d seen her own death. If she’d seen me, or any part of my life, before I’d even been born.

Still, the idea had bloomed and couldn’t be completely denied. I didn’t even know my mother’s first name. I could at least ask that of the sorcerer without letting him know he had leverage.

Couldn’t I?

I texted back.

I’ll let you know when I get near.

I stared down at the series of text messages between Blackwell and me, then read through the conversation a second time. I was glad I didn’t have a number for Beau, because I was fairly certain I would have used it then. As pitiful as the pre-love-at-first-sight me would have thought it, I already missed him. I was worried that if the next hour or so went horribly wrong — if I was actually as naive as I knew I was being — then all I would remember, and all that would be left to hold onto, was the vision of Beau’s dulled blue-green eyes staring into nothingness.

I pushed the thought away and touched the map link in the text message Blackwell had sent. My browser opened, and I began to figure out where the hell I was and where the hell I needed to go.

The gray of the day almost perfectly matched the gray of the well-worn sidewalk beneath my feet. It had only taken two more buses to get to within a few blocks of the abandoned barbershop I’d seen in my vision. I’d texted Blackwell as I cut right from the bus stop to walk the final ten or so minutes to the strip mall.

The cluster of empty shops felt like it was on the edge of nowhere. If I’d continued heading west on the main road for another couple of hours, I might have hit the coast again. Not that my sense of direction was that great. In Vancouver, I’d always had the North Shore Mountains to navigate by. This area outside Portland wasn’t part of the city, but it also wasn’t residential, industrial, or pure farmland. It made sense that the businesses ended up being unsustainable in this location.

As soon as I’d cut off from the main road, the traffic almost completely died. No one else was stupid enough to be out walking in the chilly late afternoon either. The sun was thinking about setting, not that I could see it behind the bank of low clouds to the west, but it wasn’t dark enough to trigger the streetlights yet.

When I found the barbershop, I was really happy that I was already cold, so I could pretend I was utterly numb to the fact that I was walking into a vision. I crossed through the empty parking lot toward the broken barber’s pole. As I’d already seen in my mind, the ‘For Lease’ sign was hanging slumped to one side. Weeds were growing through the edges and cracks of the pavement, and shards of the red, white, and blue barber pole littered the sidewalk beside the front door.

No blood trail, though. And no Beau. Not as far as I could see. But still, I felt slightly off here. Queasy. Out of time and place, maybe.

“You’ve made the right decision,” Blackwell said as he appeared behind me.

I spun around. A light breeze stirred my hair and tingled against my cheeks as it brushed by me, then faded. More magic, I guessed.
 

“Together,” the sorcerer added, “you and I will be very prosperous.”

I could have seriously sworn that the parking lot had been empty moments before. But then, I’d been fixating on the empty, eroded sidewalk outside the barbershop where I’d seen Beau’s dead body in the vision. Blackwell could have been standing behind me for any amount of time before speaking.

“I’m not going with you,” I said.

“No?” he asked. His smile was tight-lipped but confident. “Are you pack bait, Rochelle?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Then you wish to open a dialogue.”

“I wish to end one.”

He laughed. “That’s not a bargain I wish to make. This is not a short-term type of relationship.”

“I brought my sketchbook. I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything.”

He stepped closer, though he was now scanning the area behind me and above my head.

“Why do you own this place?” I asked. Blackwell was wearing the same deep navy-blue suit and crisp white shirt I’d seen him in before, with the black cashmere scarf twined once around his neck. “You obviously don’t need the money.”

“It behooves me to maintain a presence in Portland.”

I didn’t know what ‘behooves’ meant, but I understood the implication. “In pack territory?”

Blackwell smiled. “I thought you didn’t believe in such things, Rochelle.”

I lifted my chin and met his dark gaze. I might have my hands stuffed in the pockets of my hoodie for warmth, but I wasn’t going to cower in front of this man.
 

His gaze dropped to my neck. He looked at me thoughtfully, his head tilted to one side. Then he smiled broadly, revealing wide, straight teeth.

“You’ve met Jade Godfrey.”

I didn’t answer, though a curl of fear ran through my already queasy belly. I couldn’t help lifting one hand to confirm — by touching it — that he’d glimpsed my mother’s necklace at the edge of my hoodie.

“And she blessed you with a creation? A trinket, as she calls them?”

“You want my necklace?”

He laughed. “No. I can feel that your magic has settled. It’s better for me that you have it. Though it’s a treat to be so near something of Jade’s creation without being stabbed by it.”

He stepped closer. “I’d like to see it, though.”

“But that won’t be enough.”

“Not nearly enough. But there’s no reason for you to fear me, Rochelle. Our relationship can be mutually beneficial.”

“I’m sure the pack and Jade Godfrey would love that.”

He lost the smile. “Do they pull your strings? Should I be expecting an incursion at any minute?”

“No, and probably.”

He laughed, then waited. He waited as if we had all evening. Except we didn’t. I needed to somehow finish this transaction before Beau arrived. I was completely sure I was operating on borrowed time now. I had been since I left the bedroom at Desmond’s.

I unzipped my hoodie until the zipper cleared the raw diamond hanging just below my breasts. There was no way I was going to take the necklace off. The chill of the relentlessly gray day cut through my thin T-shirt underneath.

Blackwell leaned forward. Catching my gaze, he raised an eyebrow along with a hand. I nodded, giving him permission to touch the necklace.

He pressed his fingertips to a section of chain that sat across my left collarbone. He shuddered almost imperceptibly, then closed his eyes as if savoring something. His dark eyelashes were so long they almost touched his high cheekbones, like a smudge of black velvet against his pale skin. His expression hinted at some intense, secret pleasure. Something almost sexual.

His touch should have felt dirty. Invasive. Except it had nothing to do with me.

“You have a thing for Jade Godfrey,” I whispered.

Blackwell opened his eyes. For a second I thought they were blown-out black, edge to edge. I blinked and they were normal again. With the light of late afternoon behind him as he loomed over me, I’d probably just seen a shadow or something. Probably.

“Have you seen Jade and me, Rochelle Hawthorne? Beyond the sketches I already possess?” he asked quietly. Something terrible underlay the question. A thirst, a hunger — but for what, I had no idea.

I swallowed. Not finding my voice, I nodded.

Blackwell mimicked my nod, then took a step back from me while he once again scanned the parking lot.
 

“And does Jade Godfrey end me, seer?”

“Jade says I’m not a seer.”

“Or you aren’t like any seer the dowser has come into contact with previously. And the answer to my question?”

“Do you want her to kill you?”

He laughed. “There could be worse deaths. Jade is vengeful, but not malicious. But, no, that is not the path I would choose.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty new at the understanding part of all of this.”

Blackwell nodded. “Your inability to interpret is not an unexpected impasse. You won’t come with me, Rochelle Hawthorne? I can offer comforts you’ve never known.”

“I doubt it.”

He reached into his suit pocket and withdrew what looked like a thin silver hairband without the plastic teeth on the inside curve. The half-circlet of metal was dotted with tiny raw diamonds, which I could apparently identify on sight now. The band was maybe an eighth of an inch wide and spanned five inches or so, though it was thin enough that it might bend wider.

“I acquired this magical artifact many years ago. A few months after my father died unexpectedly,” Blackwell said. “I have used it twice before, though it didn’t produce the results I’d hoped. You, Rochelle, are far more powerful than the other psychics I’ve discovered.”

“What does it do?”

“What I hope it does, is to allow me to … see what you’ve seen. A shortcut to the sketches.”

“Will it hurt me?”

“Will that stop you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. But it shouldn’t hurt you. Drain you perhaps.”

“Will it take the visions?”

Blackwell laughed. “No. No one, no object, no person, can steal your magic … or rid you of the burden of it, if that was what you were hoping. An Adept with enough power could drain it, perhaps, or dampen it. But it will eventually come back. Some say even stronger than before. Such power does not easily walk this world though, Rochelle. I doubt you will ever meet any Adept capable of such a thing.”

“What about the dowser? She is … electric.”

“Indeed, she is,” the sorcerer whispered. “Am I wrong? Have you seen differently?”

I looked deep into his dark eyes. I could see nothing there that told me anything more about this man than I already knew from the visions. Jade had named him as evil, but she didn’t seem particularly careful about her word choices. He was ruthless, but I couldn’t see evil in his eyes. He was a well — a deep, dark well. Similar to the dowser, actually, though she hid her emptiness while Blackwell fed his.

Jade’s emptiness might actually be born of sorrow, I thought, while Blackwell’s emptiness was born from some need I hoped to never understand. A perpetual need for more, maybe. My shrink would instantly label him with narcissistic personality disorder, but I wasn’t a big believer in easily checked boxes. Labels were difficult to erase … or outrun.

“No,” I finally answered. Knowing that if I was lying, that if Jade was capable of draining or stealing magic and I had seen it in some vision I only half remembered, then this device he held might give him access to that information. But I wasn’t big enough, or strong enough, to protect Jade Godfrey and Beau at the same time. Plus, the dowser didn’t seem overly concerned about what I revealed to Blackwell.

The image of Beau lying dead on the sidewalk not two feet from where I was now standing haunted my every step, my every choice. I couldn’t worry about anything else right now.

Blackwell nodded. Then, with his fingertips pressed to either side of the half-circlet, he held it out a few inches from my forehead.

“Our bargain, Rochelle,” he said. “You will show me what you can right now. You will continue to gift me with any sketches that I deem relevant. You will make yourself available when I call, and answer what questions you can when I do. You will not knowingly endanger my life. We will be friends.”

“And my part?”

Blackwell inclined his head, prompting me to offer terms.

“You will never lay a hand on Beau,” I said.

“I will not forfeit my life at his hands.”

“You will avoid harming, allowing him to be harmed, or killing him at all costs.”

“Of course. I’m not a murderer.”

“You will swear.”

“That’s what we are doing, Rochelle. Forming a pact,” Blackwell said. His patience was thinning. “What else? We do not have much time. The shifters are near.”

I didn’t know how he knew that the shifters were near, but the bubble of fear in my belly ramped up to a full boil.
 

“That’s it.”

Blackwell hissed and shook his head. “That’s a fool’s bargain. Easily broken by one powerful enough to do so.”

“Could you break it?”

“No. Not if I agree to it.”

“Is Jade Godfrey powerful enough?”

“If she isn’t, it’s only because she hasn’t tried yet.”

“You won’t harm, allow to be harmed, or kill Beau. And unless I call, or accept your visit, you’ll leave us alone. You’ll pay for the sketches, plus shipping.” Yes, shipping. Even in the face of a supposedly evil sorcerer, being hunted by werewolves, and trying to thwart destiny, I was still oddly practical.

“As I have always done.”

“And …” — I faltered, knowing I should ask for something big here, something to balance his requests. “And you won’t use me to hurt anyone else.”

Blackwell raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very loose term. I won’t ask you to harm anyone. But again, I won’t forfeit my life to do so.”