Red Queen (44 page)

“She's got you where . . . she wants you,” she gasped.

“Susan? What does she want with me?”

Kari grinned. Then her eyes dilated and she was staring at a sky she could not see. She had stopped breathing. She was dead.

Burying her body in the desert didn't take long. The ground in witch world seemed more porous, less substantial. I dug down six feet, using the car jack as a shovel, without taking a break.

When I was finished, I stopped to say two prayers. One for Kari and one for myself. My prayer was the more worrisome. I couldn't exactly ask God to forgive a murder. I only hoped I could forgive myself.

I didn't plan on telling James or Jimmy what I'd done.

BACK IN TOWN, I TRIED
calling Alfred and got no answer. Then I tried the one person I really wanted to talk to, James. I shook as I dialed the number. Of course, I was going against my father's orders. But never mind that, what was the guy really like? What if I didn't love him the way I loved Jimmy? Hell, what if he was seeing someone else while I was off-limits?

But again, I got no response. However, I relaxed a little when I got ahold of my father on my cell and he told me why James was not answering.

“I told him to avoid you,” he said. “And I told you I told him. Your first night in witch world. Don't you remember?”

“You told me to avoid him for a couple of days.”

“A few days,” he corrected me. “Why do you need to talk to him?”

He sounded so much like a dad right then.

“Susan wanted me to bring him with me tonight,” I said.

“She suggested it, she didn't insist on it. The last thing you want is for James to see Lara and get attached to her all over again. That will turn him into Susan's puppet.”

“I suppose,” I grumbled.

“You don't sound very convinced.”

“Look, I'm going through a hard time and I miss him. It would just be nice to check in with him, you know, and hear his voice.”

“How did you get his number?”

“Alfred gave it to me.”

My father paused. “Interesting.”

“Dad? How well do you know Alfred?”

“I've known him a while. Good man.”

“Is he a powerful witch?”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

“Do you know how many witch genes he has?”

My father hesitated. “That's odd—I just checked our database, and his number's not listed.”

“Is he required to list it with the Council?”

“The Council doesn't insist. Alfred probably didn't tell us because he has a low number. We don't go around talking about our numbers. For centuries, Cleo has discouraged the practice. It's another way of labeling people. Like anything else it can lead to prejudice.”

“Does your file on Alfred say how old he is?”

“Why do you ask?”

“He told me he was a fighter pilot during World War Two.”

“He was. He has many skills. How did you meet him?”

“Alex is dating him,” I said. My father had not answered my question.

“No one told me about that.”

“Dad. How did you meet him?”

“By chance. He sells drugs for a pharmaceutical company in the real world. He happened to come into my office in Malibu.”

“Hatsu said I could trust him.”

“Hatsu's very old and wise. Is Alfred with you now?”

“No. I called him the same time I called James. Everyone seems to have abandoned me on this most important of days.”

“Nonsense. The Council is going to meet with you before you see Susan. Trust me, I've never seen them give one person so much attention.”

“When and where?” I asked.

“Seven. I'll call you with the location before then.”

With the late start I'd gotten, and Alfred's extensive training and my battle with Kari, the day was already half over. The meeting was only two hours away. “I feel like things are moving too fast,” I said. “That we're not prepared for this showdown with Susan.”

“The Council has had time to reflect. Let's see what they have to say.”

“All right, Dad.”

“Is that traffic I hear in the background?”

“Yeah.”

“I was told you hadn't left your hotel room today.”

“Spying on me?”

“Guarding you.”

“I snuck out. It's no big deal. Call me as soon as you know where I'm supposed to go.”

We exchanged good-byes. I was off the phone less than ten minutes when I tried James again. There was still no answer and I was worried about him. James may have been more respectful to my father in this world but I still couldn't imagine anyone bossing him around.

I drove to the pawnshop I had stopped at the previous day while searching the industrial area for the elusive sewer. The owner looked as seedy as his store. With a bulging gut, food stains on his shirt, and an unlit cigar in his mouth, he had shown little interest in helping me. But while in the store, I had noticed a box filled with handguns sitting in the rear storage area.

I disliked guns, I hated everything they stood for. But I was not sure if that was true of the Jessica Ralle who usually walked the streets of witch world. I recalled owning my own handgun. Indeed I remembered being a deadly shot.

Russell had taught me how to shoot. It came back to me all of a sudden. So did the pain of his death. With so much running
around, I had not had a chance to sit and properly mourn his death. And now was not the time.

I remembered that Frank had not bothered to frisk me when I met with Susan, probably because the Lapras as a whole were so arrogant, they didn't think they could be hurt. Frankie was dead, it was true, but the next guy in line to take his place would probably be just as cocky.

This time I returned to the pawnshop with five grand in cash. I told the owner what I wanted and he told me to go to hell. But then I caught his eye and warned him that I wasn't used to being spoken to that way. He got the picture. I was connected. He immediately apologized.

“I misunderstood you, Mother,” he said hastily. “I just thought that a person such as yourself would have no need for a firearm.”

“Let me decide what my needs are,” I said as I counted out thirty hundred-dollar bills on his countertop. “I want a nine-millimeter semiautomatic handgun. Top of the line but compact. Plus I want a high-quality silencer that I can screw on the tip at a moment's notice.”

The man's bloodshot eyes swelled at the sight of the cash. “I have a Glock nine-millimeter that's totally clean and untraceable. But you're going to have to sacrifice bullets for size.”

“How many?”

“The compact model takes eight bullet clips instead of the usual fifteen,” he said as he sauntered toward the box I had
spotted on his floor the day before. I followed closely. I didn't expect him to try to rob me, assuming he knew who or what I was, but I was cautious. He continued. “But with this particular Glock you could tuck it in your belt beneath your blouse and no one would be any the wiser.”

“Show me,” I said, gesturing to the box on the floor. But he surprised me by reaching above my head and taking down a shoe box lined with leather. Inside was the gun with three stubby clips, all unloaded, and a fat three-inch-long silencer. He handed over the gun and a single empty clip.

“Are you experienced with semis?” he asked.

“I know they fire faster and reload quicker,” I said.

“That's a fact. But they're more troublesome than revolvers. A revolver will never jam on you. A semi has to be kept super clean.” He added, “But it's hard to find a revolver that takes a silencer. I know I don't have one.”

The gun felt good in my hand. It made me feel
bad
. “This is the one I want. Show me how to use it. And I want the extra clips and two boxes of ammunition.”

“I'll need five grand if you're taking the silencer,” he said. “It's a specialty item.”

“You mean it's illegal.”

He held up his hands in mock defense. “Your words, Mother, not mine. As it stands, if you buy this gun, we never met.”

“Understood. I'll give you four grand, no more. And you teach me everything I need to know about it.”

“I'll take care of you, Mother,” he said.

He was true to his word. Indeed, he gave me such in-depth instruction that by the time I left his shop, the sun had set and it was time for my meeting with the Council. My father called the instant I climbed back in my car and told me the new location, a small house in the old residential area of town. I drove straight there but was careful to leave my gun hidden in the trunk.

Inside, the Council members were already gathered, waiting for me. My father was present. I felt a pang Russell was not. As witch world counted time, it had only been twenty-four hours since I had sat with the Council, but to me it felt like ages.

More of Jessica Ralle's memories were returning. I recalled how Lara's birth had not been easy. How my father had refused to give me anything to reduce the pain, not even a little Demerol to take the edge off. Nothing but a 100 percent natural birth for the Council's perfect child. Of course, holding Lara afterward, it had all felt worth it.

To my surprise, I started the meeting by explaining how I had located where Lara was being held. Cleo acted pleased that I had obtained the information but insisted on knowing why I had taken it upon myself to visit Kari. Damn, the woman had radar.

“Since I became connected to your group,” I said, “I've known nothing but danger. It's everywhere I turn. Yet you guys
don't give me much advice, and I'm not the sort of person who likes to sit around and wait for things to happen. I went to see Kari because I felt I had to take a more proactive stance.”

“A proactive stance is one thing,” Cleo said. “Murder is something else.”

I let my anger show. “None of you accused me of murder when I killed Russell. Because you saw his death as necessary. Well, Kari's death was just as necessary. She attacked me.”

“Did you give her reason to attack you?” Cleo asked.

“Maybe. I kidnapped her.”

Hatsu smiled. “Not a bad reason.”

“I couldn't allow her to screw up Jimmy's life,” I said.

Kendor nodded. “You did the right thing.”

Cleo shook her head. “I'm disturbed that you killed her so casually. Without consulting with us.”

“She attacked me,” I said.

“You continue to avoid my point,” Cleo said.

“What? That from now on I'm to obey you? I don't remember signing up for that.”

“Jessica,” my father snapped. “Show respect.”

I shook my head. “Kari's dead. I'm glad she's out of the way. Now let's move on. Have you come up with a plan to kill Susan?”

“We have come to a consensus,” Cleo said. “We still lack information on this bafflement, which has been twice used against us, and which seems to be strictly under Susan's control.
For that reason we'll stick with our earlier decision. You're to accept her offer and allow her to place you in a home with Lara.”

I couldn't have felt more deflated. They had not budged an inch. “That's it? That's all you have to offer? You meet and talk for two days and at the end of that time you say, ‘Do what the bitch wants.' Excuse me, but that doesn't sound like a plan to stop her. It sounds more like a reason to surrender.”

“Lara's safety is still our number one priority,” Cleo said. “Until we can be sure she's safe, we can't attack, at least not directly.”

“Kendor,” I said, turning to my friend. “You can't agree with this madness.”

He looked weary, beaten down, an expression I never would have expected to see on such a powerful man. “We took a vote. This is what the Council decided. I must obey.”

I stood impatiently. “Since when have you obeyed anyone? I'm telling you, all of you, I know this woman. I know what she's capable of. While you sit and patiently study her from a distance, you can be sure she's closing in on you with a net that will choke the life out of all of you, not just Lara and me.”

“You're a brave girl,” Cleo said as she suddenly stood and put her hands on my shoulders. “We appreciate your courage, even if we feel it's misdirected. Go now and obey. Keep Lara alive at all costs. Let this drama play out as it was destined to.”

“It's more than a drama to me,” I said, my eyes burning.
But I held my tears in check, even when Cleo hugged me. My feelings were a confused mess. On one hand I wanted to strangle her for being so passive. At the same time I hated to leave her embrace. Her ancient love was like a shield that drove off the very root of my fear.

My father offered to walk me out. I told him not to bother and left the house. I was five minutes away from the Council when my cell rang. A young woman with a cold voice spoke.

“Be in front of the Tropicana at eleven sharp,” she said. “Don't be late.”

“Can I—?” I began, but she had hung up.

I had two hours to kill. Heading for the desert, after making sure I wasn't being tailed, I drove off a side road into the sand and stopped beside a collection of boulders. The man at the pawnshop had given me extra ammunition. Loading my clips—it helped to have superpowered fingers—I used a few discarded cola bottles to practice my aim. To my total lack of surprise, I discovered I was a crack shot.

I put three bullets through the silencer, no more. The pawn-shop man had warned me that even the finest suppressor quickly wore out. For now the attachment turned the nine-millimeter blasts into faint whistles.

I left the silencer attached to the gun. If I used the weapon, say inside a house, I didn't want Susan's neighborhood security to hear.

I was leaving my private firing range when James called.

“Hey, Jessica, I heard you've been trying to reach me.”