Sacrificial Magic (17 page)

Chelsea Mueller was not a Church employee. Not in Triumph City, not in the District, not in any of the neighboring districts or states. In fact, Chelsea Mueller was not a Church employee anywhere in the world.

She’d almost made the cut, though. Chess opened her notebook to a fresh page, set it on the Church library table before her, and started scribbling. She’d earned a 6.5 on the energy push test, 6.7 on the energy identification test … it was the same for all of them, scores between six and seven. Shit, poor Chelsea, she’d missed it by less than a point.

And she’d been tested in 2001 at the then newly opened Mercy Lewis Second School. Good thing the test scores were stored separately in Triumph City because of space limitations, so they were available; Chess couldn’t find any other information on the girl anywhere.

So was Chelsea still in the neighborhood? Was she still in Downside, was she still alive? No way to tell. Jia had pled ignorance of who she was so steadfastly, even when faced with what one of the other students called in passing “Slobag’s witch”—how interesting was that?—that Chess actually believed her.

Jia also insisted she’d found the book in the field. Chess didn’t believe that for a second. Interesting, though, that Jia would lie about it even to someone she thought was that important. Which meant whoever had given her the book was even more important, at least to her. Hmm.

Where the hell was that Chelsea Mueller file, though? And how fucking suspicious was that?

But then, it might not be at all. If Chelsea did have some sort of connection to her case, it was possible Aros had taken the file. Files weren’t supposed to leave the building, but just like the place files nobody ever remembered to update, nobody hesitated to take a citizen file if they needed it. Especially not when they lived on-grounds and could have the files back within five minutes.

He must have taken Lucy McShane’s file as well. All Chess could find was Lucy’s listing in the mainframe, with her dates of birth and death and a single scanned photo of a dark-haired girl with a pretty smile. Sad. But not particularly useful.

Elder Griffin might have more for her, though, or might be able to give her more information on Aros and his investigation. Being new, Aros might have reported more regularly than the rest of them did.

But if Elder Griffin knew more, wouldn’t he have told her?

Of course he would have. She’d just have to ask him the next day, when he was in his office. He could help her find the files, too. Yes. The next day, she’d get some answers.

So she hoped, anyway. Which meant she could focus on a more immediate problem: figuring out a way to tell Terrible about Lex and the kiss in a way that wouldn’t make him hate her and kill Lex.

Oh, and speaking of Terrible, Lex, and grisly death … 
She gathered up her notes, shoved them into her bag, and crossed the library to the Restricted Room.

Goody Glass gave her a dirty look as she approached the Goody desk to request access. What else was new. She gave the Goody her best innocent simper. “Good morrow, Goody Glass. Can you open the door for me, please? I need to do some research.”

“Thou mutters, Miss Putnam. Speak up.”

Like she couldn’t hear. She’d hear Chess if Chess ran to the other end of the room, covered her mouth with her hands, and whispered “Fuck you,” but she couldn’t hear Chess standing four feet away from her.

Chess repeated her question at exactly the same volume, but dipped into a proper curtsy as she did so. That was probably the miserable bitch’s problem anyway.

It was. Goody Glass glared at her for a minute—probably trying to find something else to criticize her for—and the door behind Chess buzzed. Part of the new security system, the electronic locks.

The Restricted Room smelled like ancient paper and creaky leather, like knowledge.

As always the smell comforted her. It was safe. It smelled like those nights when she was in training, when she finally started to realize nobody was going to hurt her there, nobody would even touch her, and she could stay up as late as she wanted and read. She’d spent hours in there then, with the door locked behind her, curled up in the corner reading everything she could, studying as hard as she could so they wouldn’t kick her out.

The sigil ritual books were kept on the right, near the cheerful golden Buddha who always made her smile. That day was no different, even in the mood she was in.

Spirits Unbound. The Power of Death. Overcoming Death. Necromagic. Death Magic: Theory and Practice. Death Made Manifest
. And a battered gray volume with its spine worn to threads and supplemented by packing
tape, which proved, when she pulled it from the shelf, to be titled simply
Death
.

Shit, they all sounded likely, didn’t they? She grabbed the first three and
Death
from the top shelf; she’d just go left to right across each one.

She was going to be there all fucking night. Hopefully it would be worth it.

   Not all night, but late enough, and Terrible wasn’t waiting in her bed for her. He wasn’t in her apartment at all, actually.

Which sucked. And was a bit of a relief. How the fuck was she going to tell him? What was she going to say, how the fuck could she possibly say it in such a way that he wouldn’t explode?

She wanted him there so bad. And she wished so bad he wouldn’t come, so she could have more time to think.

At least she had a half-full pillbox—ha, was it half-full or half-empty?—to help her calm down.

She took four Cepts, added a Panda to help her dip a bit lower. The Nips, sweet little red pills like cinnamon candy, smiled up at her. It’d be so good to pop a couple of those, wake herself up a bit, get her mind buzzing.

Too bad they messed with her ability to detect ghosts, and given where she planned to go that night, that wasn’t a good idea. And considering who she was going with … a bump would probably be fine, but too much and she might as well not bother trying to have sex at all. She’d only end up wide awake by herself, totally frustrated and chain-smoking until she came down enough to get some sleep.

So speed was out. Luckily she had everything else, though, to take away the sting.

She had to tell him right away. Shit, it felt like a fucking semi-instant replay of the night before.

And just as it had the night before, her heart leapt
when the sound of the Chevelle’s engine finally drifted into her apartment not long after midnight, leapt higher when it cut off. If he would just understand, not be mad at her … trust her. It was too much to ask, but she didn’t really have a choice, did she?

At least one thing went her way. Her pills started to hit as she watched him walk across the straggly patch of grass gone to seed and cement pebbles by the side of her building up to the front steps. She closed her eyes, let that slow smooth … 
delight
, was the only way to describe it, really … wind its glorious way from her stomach up through her chest, settling soft white peace over the ragged edges of her nerves. Murders and magic and ghosts and above it all the memory of Lex grabbing her, the memory that made her feel like she was going to throw those pills right back up … all of it faded just a bit, just enough to let her take a breath.

She waited, looking out the window, watching a hooker pick up a trick and one of Bump’s corner men make a sale. A typical night, the streets alive with degeneracy. Sometimes she loved Downside.

His key scraped in the lock, and he was there, his heavy footsteps getting closer until finally she did turn, forcing a smile.

He smiled, too. Was it her imagination or was there something … something off, in his eyes? Something that didn’t seem right, like he was pretending to look at her the way he usually did but really he was thinking something else.

Somehow she found her voice. “Hey. How’d your day go?”

He shrugged. “You?”

“Okay.” Were her legs shaking? It felt like they were shaking. Maybe she’d better sit down.

The couch seemed so far away. Funny. Before all of this she’d never even have imagined she could despise
herself more than she already did, make herself even sicker over her stupid weaknesses. Especially the stupid weakness that had made her think she could actually handle this whole relationship thing.

Well, fine. Enough with the weakness and the fear and the waiting for the ass-dumping axe to fall. If it was going to happen, let it just fucking happen.

“Hey, I, um, I need to tell you something.”

“Aye?” He sat down next to her. Her fingernails dug into her palms to keep herself from reaching out to touch him.

Instead, she stood up again. Her legs now seemed to be shaking with energy. Too much energy, like she’d just sucked back a dozen lines, like she could walk ten miles and still be ready to race around some more. Her stomach danced from nerves and drugs, floating right below her head.

Fuck this. Fuck Lex, and fuck her guilt and feeling shitty and being scared. She started again. “Okay. I have to tell you something.”

“So tell.” Was that impatience in his voice? He still sat on the couch, watching her pace with his hands on his thighs.

“So, my case. It’s— Well, you know where it is. And I couldn’t get anyone to talk to me. So I mentioned to Lex that I couldn’t get them to talk to me, and he … he kissed me in front of all of them. To help me out. With the case.”

He didn’t move. Fine. She was going to kill Lex for getting her into this, she really was.

“So that’s what happened, and it didn’t mean anything and I didn’t want to do it but it happened. Nobody would talk to me until he did that and then they did, and it’s a big case and I need it. And I’m sorry.”

She paused for a second. Didn’t take a chance looking at him again. Looking at him might break the simmering
froth of anger she’d built up, and she wasn’t done talking yet, and if she got the rest of it out fast enough she could probably keep that froth going.

“So if you want to dump me now or whatever, just do it, okay, because it’s—it’s making me feel sick and I don’t want to have to think about it anymore.”

The silence grated on her; it was too loud, like the air was beating against her eardrums. Like her fear was beating against everything else, thrumming in her chest and head. Would he just fucking say something? Her high and her panic were just about equal at the moment, but if it went on too much longer panic would totally win, and once she lost that righteous anger she’d be fucked.

He cleared his throat. “Wondered if you was gonna tell me.”

“What?”

“Wondered on it, dig. Iffen you’d tell me or tryin hide it.”

What the fuck? She’d been panicking and freaking out and he already knew?

Oh, right, except that wasn’t actually good news. Righteous anger at Lex was one thing. Letting that righteous anger convince her that she had nothing to worry about was another. “You knew about it? How did you find out about it, so fast?”

“It matter?”

“No, no, I just wondered, is all.” If he knew, maybe the fact that she’d told him would be a point in her favor. Maybe it would mean he’d believe her, he’d trust her—well, he wasn’t going to trust her, probably, but maybe she’d get some kind of reprieve.

Of course, maybe he’d think that she’d told him hoping that would be his response, so he’d trust her even less, because— Oh, whatever.

He shrugged. “Ain’t important. But aye. Heard on it.”

Of course he knew, though. He might not have heard rumors about Lex sharing his bed—privately—with a Churchwitch on occasion, no, but he certainly would hear about Lex playing hide-the-tongue with a Churchwitch in the middle of the day, in the middle of a crowd of gossipy teenagers.

“So … are you mad at me?”

He shrugged. “Ain’t happy.”

“Yeah, but … do you believe me? I mean, are you … leaving.”

“Don’t know what I should be doin.”

But he hadn’t left. He hadn’t gotten up and left, and he hadn’t raised his voice, and maybe that was a good sign, right? She was just high enough to think maybe it was. Just high enough to think maybe she could change the subject and sweep all of it into the past.

Not that she’d ever forget, or he would. She knew better than anybody that some things could never be forgotten. Some wounds never stopped hurting. But maybe in a relationship it was different? People in relationships forgave each other, right?

She sucked in a breath and sat down next to him. Her throat felt like plaster; a drink would probably be a good idea. If she could manage to swallow anything, anyway. “Don’t let him do this. Please.”

He looked at her. Waiting.

“Lex. Don’t let him do this. I mean, I don’t know if he knows about you and me, but I know he kissed me just to fuck with me. Not in that way, you know what I mean. Just because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Chess—”

“No. He just grabbed me and I didn’t know what to do. I needed to get them to talk to me and I didn’t feel like I could shove him away or something and alienate them more, and I hate that. But I really hate that he’s managing to—to make you mad, or whatever, even
though he’s not even here, and he has nothing to do with us.”

He shook his head. “Trustin you … Ain’t makin it easy, aye?”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I’m trying to be honest. I’m not hiding things from you. I don’t want to hide things from you again.” She reached out a tentative hand, took it as a good sign when he didn’t yank his arm away.

He turned his face to her, opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t let him. Couldn’t let him. She needed to kiss him; she’d never thought she’d
need
something like that, but she did. Especially at that moment, when she felt like one wrong step would sever the thin cord of their relationship forever.

So she leaned forward and took his face in her hands. His muttonchops tickled her palms as she pressed her lips against his, willing him to respond. Please let him respond. She couldn’t speak above a whisper; all her hopes and fears had clogged her throat, and it was still so hard, so scary, to say the words anyway. Like sticking her hand into a trap. “I love you, okay? I love you.”