Unchained, the Dark Forgotten (2010) (10 page)

“Why didn’t you just stop hunting vampires?”

“They were killing people at the rate of three and four a night.”

“You felt it was your duty?”

“Yeah. And that kind of work is addictive. There’s always one more monster to take out before you’re done. Then you look up and you realize the hunting has eaten away your life.”

Bannerman gave her a long look. Ashe felt her scalp prickle, sensing the courtroom predator beneath the lawyer’s smooth surface. She could feel the adrenaline in her blood responding to that gaze.

He turned his pen over and over, rubbing its brushed-gold metal between his fingers. “Apparently you’re good at death. The Internet is full of stories about the powerful magic of the Carver sisters and your exploits as a monster slayer.”

As she’d told Reynard, Ashe didn’t have magical powers to speak of, but she found the badass-witch reputation gave her a psychological advantage, so she’d let the tales spread. “The witchcraft is more my sister’s thing.”

“Don’t be modest. The Carver bloodline is famous. You’ve taken jobs all over the world. You’re sure it was just monsters you were killing?”

“Completely. I stayed within the law.”

Bannerman regarded her as if reconsidering his assessment of her beauty. Ashe knew what he was thinking, had heard the line a nauseating number of times before—there was something sexy about a lethal woman.
Men are so weird.

Ashe cut to the chase. “I’ve pulled myself together. I’m done saving the world. Now I just want to raise my daughter in the loving home she deserves, surrounded by her family. If I have to rethink my life to give her that, I will do it.”

Without taking his eyes from her, Bannerman riffled the pages of a thick document, “Your in- laws have recounted at great length all the reasons they believe you’re an unfit mother. Since you have removed Eden from school, and from Spain, they feel compelled to seek custody.”

Ashe felt her face freeze. He wasn’t saying anything new, but the words still tore like the jaws of a hellbeast. “What’s the law around international custody cases?”

“Not relevant. Your husband’s father is from here, so any trial would likely be in our own courts. On the good side, that’s less complicated than it could be.”

“Papa de Larrocha always disliked me. So does Mama, maybe even more.”

“Why?”

“I was born a witch. They consider that a taint. They think if they can keep Eden away from her witch heritage, she’ll grow up completely human.”

Ashe wanted Eden to grow up proud of everything she was. A child of warriors.

“Is that possible?”

“No. She’s at the age when her magic will start to manifest.” That had been the final push for Ashe to bring her back to Fairview, where Eden could be around other witches. That first flush of power was a delicate time for a child.

Bannerman tapped his pen on the pile of legal papers. “Given your family’s heritage, arguing to retain custody isn’t going to be an easy sell to a judge.”

Ashe met his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Every similar judgment to date has weighed against the supernatural.”

Ashe swore, dropping the civilized act. “That’s a rights violation.”

Bannerman narrowed his shark eyes. “Perhaps, but human rights are the only ones enshrined in law. Technically, you’re not human. But I’m a very, very good lawyer.”

Ashe let out a shaky breath. “Good to hear it.”

“You’ve got to demonstrate that you can live a life that even a prohuman judge will find faultless. There are a few things you should do.”

“Name them.”

He weighed his words. Nervously, Ashe scanned the wall behind him, trying to stay steady. She’d never understood the whole thing about wringing one’s hands until now. Ironic her family had so much power, and yet magic was useless against law.

There was a movement in the shadow between the wall and the window, probably a stray cloud brushing the sunlight. Her eyes tracked it, her predatory senses on automatic. Her conscious mind was busy panicking at the lawyer’s words.

“First, you’ll require a proper residence with everything Eden needs. Her own room. A decent school. Good clothes.”

“Got all that.” Ashe was really noticing the shadow now. It was sliding down the wall, like a drip of paint.
What the hell is that?

Bannerman was oblivious. “How’s your daughter adjusting?”

“She misses her friends at her old school, but her grades are good.” Ashe blinked, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks. Stress did funny things.

“You’ll have to get an ordinary job. Show you can put food on the table the old-fashioned way.”

“Already taken care of.” Schlepping books at the local library, but whatever.

“Good. Do you have a support system in Fairview?”

From where Ashe was sitting, it looked like the drip was behind Bannerman’s right shoulder. It was getting larger as it moved, gathering mass.
Something’s wrong
. She shifted in her seat, balancing her weight in case she had to move fast.

“Do you understand the importance of this, Ms. Carver?” The impatience in Bannerman’s tone was clear.

Ashe’s attention snapped back to the discussion. “My grandmother lives here. So does my sister, Holly. She has a partner and a new baby.”

“Alessandro Caravelli’s child.” Bannerman sounded resigned. “Having him as a relation isn’t exactly a plus.”

The sun came out from behind a cloud, brightening the room. Now she could see that whatever was sliding down the wall was a sparkly blue-green. It looked like the sort of goop Eden used for arts and crafts.

Except this was the side effect of something deadly.

Ashe flicked her gaze back to the lawyer, then back to the wall. “Caravelli is a good man.”

“Caravelli’s a vampire,” Bannerman pointed out. “As far as your case is concerned, he’s a liability.”

“We can’t pick our in- laws. Just ask the de Larrochas.” She got to her feet, kicking off her pumps. She hated the damned heels. “Do you have ghosts in this neighborhood? Or demons?”

Bannerman swiveled his chair, trying to see what Ashe was looking at. “What are you talking about?”

“There.” She pointed. The drip had just reached the floor, oozing over the carpet like melting ice cream. Another drip was forming near the ceiling. “Ectoplasm.”

This drip traveled faster, whizzing down the wall like a toddler on a slide. It plopped on top of the previous puddle, rippling a few inches farther onto the dove gray carpet. Sunlight dazzled on the edge of the sticky pool, making rainbows on the wall and ceiling.

Once the sun struck the goo, the air smelled of very, very rotten pork.

The lawyer sprang up, marching toward the ooze. “What the hell?”

“Don’t touch it with bare skin,” she warned. “It can make you sick.”

He wheeled, a revolted look on his face. “Impossible. Something must have followed you here. We don’t have slime at Bannerman, Wishart, and Yee.”

Ashe bit her tongue. There were just too many lawyer jokes in the world. She stripped off her winter-white suit jacket, folding it neatly over the chair. Ignoring Bannerman’s stare, Ashe grabbed the pen off his desk and crossed to the corner, shouldering him aside. She poked the pen in the goop, twirling it around like honey until she had a glob she could take a closer look at. She held it to the light, careful not to let any drip on her freshly dry-cleaned skirt.

There were solid specks in the blue-green gel. Ghostly ectoplasm had no inclusions. This was definitely demon.
Rotten pork with floaty bits. Yum
.

“What are you looking for?” Bannerman snapped. “What kind of creature caused that?”

“Ectoplasm is a by-product of magic, just like exhaust comes from cars. It’s not alive, but it tells us there’s a demon working mojo nearby.” She dropped the gold-plated pen into the puddle of ooze. It bobbed a moment, then upended and sank like a ballpoint
Titanic
.

Ashe folded her arms. “You should evacuate the office.”

“Can’t you do anything?”

Ashe met his angry gaze, but refused to flinch. “I can give you the number of a good carpet cleaner. I had my apartment done when I moved in.”

“Make this go away.”

“I didn’t cause this, Mr. Bannerman.”

The lawyer’s gaze shifted away. Ashe’s instincts pounced.

“But you know who did,” she said quietly. “You’ve been dealing with a devil, haven’t you? Got yourself an unhappy client.”

He turned, walked away a few steps, then turned back. His face was expressionless, except for his eyes. A great white had nothing on that glare.

“Hunt this down.”

“I don’t do demons.”

Bannerman’s face twitched, as if in sudden pain. “How badly do you want to win custody of your daughter, Ms. Carver? Take care of this and I’ll waive my fee.”

Ashe had a demon to hunt. Well, she’d hunt it if it turned out to be a little one. With big demons, it was best to just run like hell.

Bannerman had promised to give her file top priority, the gold standard, red carpet, and a five-diamond rating if she’d make the demon go away. That was enough to make her agree. He’d also given up just enough details to tell her he was holding something back. Probably some client confidentiality thing. Alarm bells had gone off, but she was crossing her fingers that she could pull off the job anyway. It would be worth the hassle if it meant Eden was hers.

That meant she had vindictive in- laws, a demon to bag, and a lying if brilliant lawyer to cope with—not to mention someone had sent a vampire to assassinate her. Good thing it was her day off.

And that didn’t even cover her family responsibilities. The whole sandwich- generation thing was tough. Grandma, bless her, was starting to need more help with things like getting groceries or a ride out to the hairdresser. Holly needed help—she had a new baby, the ghostbusting business, and she was still taking classes toward her business degree. Alessandro was great with midnight feedings, being a vampire and all, but completely useless during the day. Ashe had stepped in more than once just to give Holly a break.

And then there was Eden.

With vampires on the hunt and now a demon in the picture, there was no way Eden was walking home from school.
Am I going to have to send her away again?

She pushed that thought away before it could burn her like the acidic thing it was. Nothing was that dire yet. And it wouldn’t be. Not if she was smart, and fast, and strong enough. Not as long as she could fight.

Ashe eased her red Saturn VUE into the line of mom cars outside Richard Bellamy Elementary. It had started to rain, and the schoolyard was full of mud puddles and happy babble. Kids plus dirt plus water. If the homework fell into the sticky mess, so much the better. Some things hadn’t changed much since Ashe was ten.

She turned the heater on to clear the fog from the windshield. She preferred riding her motorcycle, but she’d gotten the VUE as well when she moved to Fairview. It looked like a mom car, it had more air bags than a roll of packing bubbles, but you could still fit a shitload of weaponry in the back. There were even cute little grocery holders to keep the smaller stuff tidy. Still, it was so not her. It cornered like a box of crackers on wheels.
Suck it up. Be the adult.

The line of cars scooted forward, and Ashe pulled in to the curb. The VUE ambled to a stop like a fat, sleepy carthorse. She ducked to survey the crowd of waiting children. Kid-sized umbrellas in pastels and plaids hid too many faces, so Ashe went by size and clothing. Eden was small for her age, tomboyish but delicate. Ashe had been exactly like that until she hit thirteen, and then she’d shot up six inches in one summer. There was no doubt Eden was hers, down to the stubborn, pointed chin.

There was Eden, dressed in a jean jacket and black camouflage pants. She was standing with an MP3 player in one hand, a backpack in the other. Alone. Drenched. Sulking. Yup, that was her kid. Ashe couldn’t hold back a grin at all that drama in one small package. Her very own baby Goth.

She had a momentary flash of memory: Roberto sleeping with Eden on his chest when she was still a baby. When he was still alive. Ashe swallowed hard, wondering what he would think of Eden now, what they might have done together, father and daughter. Eden was smart and growing up so fast, one moment a teen and the next back to child mode. “Handful” was an understatement.

She lowered the passenger window so she could call out, letting a gust of cold, wet air into the car. “In you get, sport.”

Eden crawled into the backseat of the car, dumping the damp backpack on the seat beside her. No eye contact. Ashe could hear the tinny voice of a rap-per trickling from Eden’s headphones, like there was a mosquito-sized gangsta hiding in the music player. When had Mr. Bad Bug Man found his way onto Eden’s playlist? She’d checked that thing two nights ago. Mr. Bug had better have a clean mouth, or he was so deleted.

Ashe raised the window again, shutting out the rain, and watched her daughter in the rearview mirror. Eden was fair-skinned with pale freckles, like Ashe, but her hair was brown and her eyes the hue of hot chocolate. That coloring came from Roberto.

“Headphones off in the car.”

Eden gave her a filthy look, but switched off her player and buckled up.

“Genghis Khan.”

“You bet,” Ashe said cheerily, putting the car in gear. “That’s me, Genghis Mom. Now I’ll take you home for your daily meal of bread and water; then I’ll lock you in the basement and let the rats gnaw your bones. It’ll be fun.”

Eden sighed and lolled against the car seat like the victim of a particularly bad vampire attack. The thought made Ashe go cold inside, but she kept her smile in place.

Eden lifted her head a little. “You’re dressed up.”

“Had to go see a lawyer. Boring grown-up stuff. How was school?”