The Sight

  “Yes,” he said, and I nodded.

  “Then we’ll figure out a way,” I said. And that was that.

  —

  It took nearly half an hour, but Lizzie eventually arrived in scrubs marked with stains I didn’t want to think too much about.

  “Sorry it took so long,” she said, stepping into Eleanor’s room and pulling clean gloves from her pocket, slipping them on. She nodded at me, Liam, Moses, then walked to Eleanor.

  “Some of our human staff members didn’t come in this week. Too worried to step into Devil’s Isle.”

  “Looks like they had cause,” Liam said darkly.

  “True, but a pain in the ass nonetheless.” She looked back at us. “Why don’t you give us a few minutes for the exam?”

  “I’ll make tea,” Moses said, and hopped down from his chair, headed toward the door again. There must have been a kitchen in there.

  “You make tea?” I asked him, and grinned at the middle finger he threw back at me.

  I really, really liked him.

  Liam and I obeyed Lizzie’s subtle order and went downstairs, where Foster waited patiently.

  I sat down on the floor, focused my attention on Foster’s apparently enormous need for scritches. Liam walked to a window across the room, arms crossed as he looked outside. Guilt was etched clearly on his face.

  “You couldn’t have known this would happen,” I said.

  He looked at me, obviously pained. “I did know. We talked about her needing protection last night.”

  Last night, when he’d stayed with me instead of coming back to Devil’s Isle. When he’d trusted Gunnar and Containment with his grandmother’s welfare.

  “In that case, I’m sorry,” I said.

  He looked back at me, eyebrows lifted, and challenge in his expression. He looked like a man ready for an argument. “For what?”

  “For this. For putting your family in the line of fire again.”

  Anger fired in his eyes again. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  I curled back from that fire. “I don’t know. Maybe if I hadn’t asked you to go to the Apollo, you’d have been here, things would have been different.”

  “Because you’re the boss of me? Because I don’t make my own decisions?”

  “Well, no. Of course not.”

  “No,” Liam repeated. “Of course not.” He moved closer, and it took a moment to realize that fire wasn’t anger, at least not at me. His gaze locked onto mine, and the moment seemed to snap into place, like gear teeth settling together. “I make my own choices. I make my own decisions. You aren’t to blame for any of them.”

  “You should stay here overnight,” I said. “You’ll feel better. I can find someone else to stay at the store, or I can find someplace else to go.”

  The Apollo would be an obvious choice, but I didn’t want to think about that right now, about my father and his secrets. There was enough to deal with in front of me.

  “They’ll look for you,” Liam said, shaking his head. “And they’ll look for me. We might as well be in the same place together. I have friends. Bounty hunters that I trust, who mistrust humans as much as they mistrust Paranormals.”

  “So they wouldn’t be swayed by Reveillon?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And speaking of which, how do Cajuns say ‘coward’?”

  Liam smiled. “Capon.”

  I nodded, remembered hearing him say that word before. “Ezekiel is a capon. Won’t do his own dirty work.”

  “God’s own truth,” Liam said. “He’s also a horse’s ass.”

  Also the truth.

  “Moses,” Liam said, looking at me speculatively. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to get his hopes up? To tell him we can break him out of Devil’s Isle?”

  “Why is that getting his hopes up?”

  Liam blinked at me. “Because we’re in a neighborhood-sized prison with high walls, guard towers, a new gate, and agents with very big guns?”

  “I’m not saying it won’t be hard. I’m just saying there has to be a way.” I looked up at him. “If we don’t get him out, Eleanor won’t leave. And if Ezekiel knows . . .”

  His face went fierce. “I’ll carry her out if I have to.”

  I petted Foster, hoping it would calm me as much as it seemed to calm him. Unfortunately, it didn’t.

  “This place is death,” I said, wrapping my hands around my knees. “For Paras, for Sensitives, for wraiths. And not just because of Reveillon. Because there’s no trial, no parole, no early out for good behavior.” I looked at Liam. “Every single one of them will die here.”

  “We can’t change the law,” he said. “And we can’t take down Containment on our own.”

  “I know. And I know we can’t get everyone out. It’s not possible—not right now, not with the Magic Act. But maybe, if we could just help one person—one person Containment thinks is dead anyway.”

  He looked at me speculatively. “I’m listening.”

  “We have Delta. We have Sensitives, Paranormals, bounty hunters, researchers. If anyone could figure out a way . . .”

  There had to be one. Because I was done with violence, done with double standards.

  I was done with Devil’s Isle.

  “Shit,” Liam said. “I forgot about Delta. We missed our noon meet.”

  I’d forgotten about it, too. “We’ll head to the church when we’re done here. Maybe they’ll still be there.”

  Liam nodded. “They may have heard what happened, assumed we were dealing with it. News travels fast among them.”

  It always did. Paranormals had networks we didn’t even know about. And maybe that was something we could use.

  —

  Fifteen minutes later, there were footsteps on the stairs, and we jumped to our feet.

  “She’ll be fine,” Lizzie said, pulling off latex gloves. “A sprained wrist, two bruised ribs, and a bump on the head we don’t think is a concussion, but she still needs to be monitored. It will not surprise you that she doesn’t want to go to the clinic.”

  “I’m going to have a friend stay with her.”

  “Good,” Lizzie said. “I’ll send Victoria over here as soon as she can get away.” Victoria was one of Eleanor’s regular nurses. She checked her watch. “I need to head back, free her up.”

  “Maybe I could help,” I said, and they both looked at me.

  “What?” Lizzie asked.

  Guilt must have made me suggest it. Why else would I volunteer to help in the very place I dreaded going most of all? The place I’d be sent if I didn’t manage my magic?

  But the words were out, and she needed help. Besides, if I was fed up enough with Devil’s Isle to bitch about it to Liam, I might as well walk the walk. Otherwise I was just a hypocrite.

  “I could help you at the clinic,” I made myself say. “If you want. You’re short-staffed, and my store happens to be well staffed right now. I could come by tomorrow morning, play candy striper for a little while.” If that was still a thing.

  I looked at Liam. “You’ll want to check on your grandmother anyway. Maybe Gavin could stay with Tadji at the store?”

  Liam watched me silently for a moment. I wondered if he was thinking about his talk with Gavin this morning. But whatever he was thinking, he didn’t show it. “Fine by me if it’s fine with Lizzie.”

  When I looked back at Lizzie, her gaze was still on Liam, eyes narrowed speculatively. “You did pretty good after the bombing,” she said.

  “I can follow directions,” I assured her.

  Liam snorted, but Lizzie ignored him.

  “I know you can.” Her tone softened. “That would be great.”

  I nodded. I’d made the commitment. Now I just had to figure out a way to get through it.

  “I’ll s
end someone back,” she said, then headed out the door.

  “I’ll need a little time to make arrangements for the guard,” Liam said into the silence. “Before we go to Delta.”

  “Sure. I want to go to the store anyway.”

  “How will you get back?”

  I looked down. “I will use these sticks attached to my hips.”

  His gaze darkened. “You’re hilarious. There are killers out there.”

  “Just like there were seven years ago,” I pointed out, and got a dour look for my trouble. “Look, my right cross notwithstanding, I can admit I’m not great at hand-to-hand. I may not even be very good at retail. But I can be very sneaky when necessary. It was a skill I learned early.”

  “Your father?” Liam asked.

  I nodded. “I wasn’t going to win a battle with a Paranormal weapon, and I wasn’t yet a Sensitive. He wanted me to be able to shoot when I had a weapon, and run when I didn’t.”

  “You weren’t very good at running away the night we met,” he said with the hint of a smile.

  And wasn’t that a perfect and depressing metaphor?

  “If I’d made it out of the store,” I said, “I’d have disappeared, and you’d never have seen me again.” I meant it as a joke, but the thought—the possibility our paths wouldn’t have crossed—made my chest ache with sadness.

  Liam ran a hand through his hair, looked back at the stairway, toward the grandmother who needed him. I could see the dilemma in his eyes. That he cared that much about me—that he was torn—meant a lot.

  “She needs you more than I do right now.”

  Liam looked back at me, eyes wide with surprise.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Stay with her until you’re sure she’s safe.”

  Something deep stirred in his eyes. “Be canaille.”

  I lifted my eyebrows at the word I didn’t recognize.

  “Careful,” he said with a sly smile. “Sneaky. Quiet as a mouse.”

  I’d lived alone in the French Quarter for nearly seven years. I knew how to be invisible.

  —

  I walked quickly and quietly back to the gate, passing Containment’s fire brigade, which shot water at the storage building while Gunnar and Reece looked on. Warm rain began to fall as soon as I made it outside the fence, lifting the scents of swamp, water, and smoke into the air.

  The rain kept people indoors, so I crept alone through the Quarter. By the time I got back to the store, the rain had stopped and I was drenched, but I hadn’t seen a single other person.

  Gavin stood on a ladder in front of the store in jeans and a WHO DAT? T-shirt, futzing with something on the underside of the wrought-iron balcony. The bruise around his eye had begun to turn that ironically sickly green of healing.

  “Are you breaking my place?”

  He made an amused sound. “Your manager asked me to take a look at the bracket. She said the balcony squeaked in this corner, had a little give. I’m making sure the ironwork is still in good shape.” He adjusted something with a wrench, climbed down the ladder, used a corner of his T-shirt to dry his sweaty face. Beneath it, I’m happy to report, his body was as fantastic as his brother’s.

  “And is it?”

  “This one is. Bolts needed a little tweaking, but it’s fine.” His expression went serious. “You want to tell me what happened out there?”

  I told him about Eleanor, about the attack, and our possible next steps.

  “You haven’t talked to our friends yet.”

  I shook my head. “We were supposed to meet at noon. We missed the meeting.”

  He nodded. “Go when Liam comes. I’ll stay here.”

  “I appreciate it. She means a lot to me, as does the store.”

  “It’s no problem. I mean, I’d rather be out there mixing it up, using my considerable strength.” He flexed an impressive biceps. “But one does what one must do.”

  I put a hand on his arm, squeezed supportively, and appreciated his good humor. “Your sacrifice is noted.”

  He was chuckling when he moved the ladder down to the next bracket.

  Inside, the store was dark, the new-to-me air conditioner silent. Unlike in Devil’s Isle, which had some kind of special generators that weren’t affected by my magic fluctuations, the power was out here, and heat and humidity had begun to collect in the store.

  Tadji stood behind the counter, finishing up an order for a customer. I waited until she was done, then told her what had happened.

  “I’m glad Eleanor and Moses are okay.” She glanced at the agents who came in the door, headed to the rack of walking sticks, joked around about which one they’d buy.

  Tadji leaned closer. “Is he thinking about getting her out of there?” she whispered.

  “He is. Has some convincing to do,” I said, opting not to mention Moses until there was a possibility we’d be able to pull off an escape. No point in dragging her into possible treason yet.

  Because dragging her into treason after that would be fine? I wondered ruefully.

  “You should get out of those clothes,” she said, and plucked at her own shirt. “It’s humid enough in here.”

  I took her advice and, when I reached the bedroom, let my soaked clothes fall heavily to the floor. I pulled out another T-shirt and jeans, hung the wet ones up to dry.

  When I went downstairs again, I found a new shipment of boxes on the table in the back room. I wanted some quiet, and some thinking time. Unpacking stock was the perfect way to deal with that.

  I pushed open the curtains and opened the windows. There wasn’t much of a breeze through the back courtyard, but at least the air circulated. By the light of the open window, I began opening boxes.

  I lost myself in work, counting soap and lightbulbs to ensure their numbers matched our invoices, restocking the shelves, breaking down the boxes for recycling when I was done.

  I put aside a bag of sea salt for Lizzie. I could take it to her in the morning, when I walked willingly into the Devil’s Isle clinic again. Nervous as I was about going, it was hardly a sacrifice for someone with freedom.

  The shadows and light on the floor shifted as I worked, time slipping past. When the store quieted, Tadji came back, looked at the empty boxes I’d stacked, then at me. “Are you okay?”

  I stopped, hands on the corners of a box, and looked back at her. “I’m tired. Emotionally, mentally.”

  She crossed her arms, nodded. “Yeah. I feel the same. And I think Burke does, too.”

  I cocked my head at her. “How is Burke?”

  “Right now, trying to keep his people safe—the caravans that travel through the Zone, the agents who work in Devil’s Isle. Frustrated that he can’t do more. But I don’t think that’s what you meant,” she said, leaned against the edge of the table. “We’re taking it slowly. Very, very slowly.”

  “Because you aren’t sure of him?”

  “Because I’m not sure of anything right now. Because he’s not in my five-year plan.”

  I smiled at her. “In fairness, neither was retail.”

  “Right?” She paused. “I’m still not sure if this is a long-term thing. I guess I thought there’d be timpani drums, and I’m not hearing any timpani drums.” She looked at me with speculation in her dark eyes. “Not like I imagine you hear.”

  “They are drums of sadness and despair,” I said, breaking down the box and putting it in the pile. “So don’t feel left out.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just kind of assumed that when the big-time love happened, I’d get the timpani drums and the orchestra and the chorus.”

  “What do you get?”

  Her brow furrowed as she considered. “I don’t know. I like spending time with him. I’d say we’re friends.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks. Maybe something more can grow.”

/>   She nodded. “Or maybe it can’t. And for Miss Type A, that uncertainty kills me.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, waiting it out isn’t really your style.”

  “Maybe we should do one of those friendship pacts. If we’re still alone in fifteen years, we marry each other, settle down.”

  I looked her up and down. “I could do worse.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “When Liam gets here, we’re going to meet our friends. Gavin can stay, but it might be safer if you go home, out of the Quarter. Once word spreads about the attack, there probably won’t be many people shopping anyway.”

  “Then maybe we need to change that.”

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  Tadji shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking—it’s like we’re letting Reveillon set the pace. Tell us how to live in our city, how our city should be run. I think we should fight back.”

  She held up a hand when I started to argue. “I don’t mean with weapons. That’s not my gig, and I don’t want it to be. I mean in terms of presence. Maybe it’s time we set the pace. We should get people into the Quarter. To live, to talk. To watch for these cowards who think genocide is the solution to their problems. Maybe, if we’re out there, if we’re engaged in our city, we screw up their plans a little.” She lifted a shoulder. “Just an idea.”

  “I think that’s a really good idea.”

  She brightened. “Really?”

  “Girl, you know you’re brilliant. It’s not your first good idea. And yeah, I think you’re right. I think they’re capitalizing on fear, on our memories of war. But if we stay home, if we stay inside, we help them win. It’s a lot easier for them to march down an empty Bourbon Street than one that’s full of people.”

  She nodded decisively. “Since you’re on board, I’m going to make some signs for the windows, spread the word.” She grinned. “I could probably just tell Mrs. Proctor and let her do the rest. The woman does not hold back information.”

  “No, she doesn’t. You want information to spread, she’d be a good vector.”