BEFORE I could try to summon the children, a guard called my name. I stashed my kit under a bush, and turned the corner to see Jeremy on the patio with a guard, Grady and Claudia.
"Maybe we should go find her," the guard was saying.
"She's fine," Jeremy said. "She doesn't like to be disturbed when she's meditating. If she doesn't answer, I'll wait--" He saw me. "Ah, here she comes."
He nodded and murmured a good morning. I studied his face. It was as inscrutable as ever. He turned to answer something Grady was asking.
Okay, this wasn't the greeting I'd hoped for. Was he upset about last night? Or hoping I'd forgotten? I brushed off regrets. I'd known that once the thrill of the Change wore off, he might reconsider. But if that adrenaline rush had been the only thing driving him last night, then it was a good thing we'd waited. Or so I told myself.
As I drew closer, Jeremy lifted his hands, a steaming mug in each, the smell of fresh coffee wafting my way.
"Thank you."
Another nod. "I trust you had a good night?"
I bit back a smile, but when I met his gaze, I saw no twinkle, no sign that his words were anything more than a polite inquiry.
He continued, "Were you meditating? I could wait here--"
"Nonsense," Grady said. "If Jaime's busy, join us for breakfast."
Claudia seconded the invitation. Jeremy glanced at me, as if he didn't care one way or the other and I wanted to scream that I'd been up since six-thirty waiting for him. But I certainly wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. So I settled for a shrug and a "Your choice."
"If I won't be in the way, I'll join you."
I had to look up and follow his gaze to see whom he was talking to. His eyes were on me.
"Sure," I said, voice as neutral as I could make it. "Come along."
He stayed at my side as I wended my way back to my summoning spot. When we rounded the third corner, he reached over and, without a word, took my coffee and laid both mugs on the garden retaining wall. Then he swept me up in a kiss that left me gasping.
My relief must have shown, because he smiled and said, "You weren't worried, were you?"
I smacked his arm. "Bastard."
A brow arch. "I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."
"Keep pulling stunts like that and you'd better get used to it."
He moved in for another kiss. I studied his gaze, trying to seewhether any hesitation lingered. I couldn't tell, and I wasn't taking chances. Even if he'd made up his mind, there was something to be said for making him wait a little longer...
So I kissed him lightly, then headed into the garden to do what I'd come out here for.
I RECOVERED my necromancy bag, then sat beside him on a bench and sipped my coffee as I listened to the bird calls and the whispers of the children, felt the wind ruffle my hair, felt the children's fingertips brushing me.
Once I'd reestablished contact with the children, and reassured them I was back, I spoke to Jeremy.
"I was thinking about the kids. About the families." I put my hand out and felt small fingers tickle mine. I tried to close my hand around them, to hold on, but caught only air. "Whether I do the raising or not, I think we should find a way to alert the authorities, even if it's after this is over, so they can find the bodies and give the parents closure."
He nodded.
"Or maybe just, I don't know, give them graves. Headstones. Something to say they were here. From what you said, the parents probably don't care."
"I didn't say that. The children may have been taken from the street. Or kidnapped from families or neighborhoods where the police would presume they'd gone to the street. That's safest. Minimizes the search. But it doesn't mean no one cared. However bad things are for a child, someone usually cares."
His gaze moved out across the garden.
"You're thinking of Clay. His family."
A small look of surprise. Then he nodded.
"There was nothing to be done, though, right?" I moved closer to him. "You didn't kidnap him. Elena says he'd run away after he was bitten, was on the street for a year, maybe more, before you found him. You couldn't take him back to his family and say, 'Here's your son. By the way, he's a werewolf.'"
"No. I couldn't."
"Did he ever ask about them?"
"Never. That used to worry me. At first, I thought he wasn't asking because he didn't want to upset me. When he was young, I'd find ways to bring up the subject of mothers, fathers, siblings. He never nibbled. Later, he pretended he'd forgotten everything that happened before he was bitten. He tells Elena he can't remember."
"But he does?"
"I think so. Before Elena became pregnant, he asked me if there was a way to check on his medical history."
"Look for any hereditary conditions. Something he might pass on to a baby."
"Yes. I found his family. It was easy enough. There was some media coverage when he disappeared. I'd always assumed there was, but I'd never looked before." He went quiet for a moment, as if thinking about that. "Paige helped me get medical records. She never asked what they were for, but she probably knew. I didn't find anything significant, medically."
"And Clay. Did he ask about them? His family?"
Jeremy shook his head. "All he wanted was the medical information. I always had the feeling his childhood wasn't...easy. That running away, even as young as he was, really..." He struggled for a word.
"Didn't bother him."
"I don't think it was an unlivable situation. Bad enough, but not the sort of thing that would cause your typical six-year-old to walk away and never return." A tiny smile. "But I suspect Clay wasn't the most typical child even before he was bitten."
"He's happier being a werewolf and sees no reason for regrets. Maybe, if he hadn't been bitten, he would've turned out like these children. A runaway."
I thought about that as I felt the tinkling touch of the children's fingers, listened to their whispers. How old were they? It was impossible to tell. From the touches and pokes, I'd guess some were quite young, though the voices had sounded like preadolescents, which meant they should be able to understand my instructions, supporting the theory that they couldn't hear me any better than I could them.
The older ones could be passed off as runaways. The younger ones? Vanished children, like Clay had been.
I thought of Clay, the life he'd gone from, the life he'd had instead. I wondered whether any of these children had run away. Just up and left their homes, their families, maybe even only for a day or two, cooling off after a fight. And then...gone. Killed. Sacrificed.
What did they make of their situation? Were they frightened? Suffering? Were they aware enough to be frightened? To suffer? Were they together? Or separate, unable to contact the others, alone. No way to tell. Not until I set them free.
"Have you heard from Elena and Clay yet?" I asked finally.
"I called them when I woke up, checking in, but no one answered. They're probably outside with the kids. I left a message."
I nodded.
"Sir?" a voice called. "Ms. Vegas?"
I waved the guard over.
"Your cell phone has been ringing, sir," he said to Jeremy. "You left it in your jacket inside. And someone thought they heard Ms. Vegas's phone ringing in her room."
We gathered our things and headed for the house.
IT WAS Elena calling with their "research notes" on folk magic.
"So how does that help us?" I asked when Jeremy finished explaining.
"I don't know if it does. Not at this stage."
"What about those body parts in Botnick's closet? They're used in this kind of magic. Maybe if we knew his supplier...No, I guess if he had a direct link to this group, he wouldn't have been trying to find them."
"But it does shed some light on what we're looking for. Like Botnick, this group is likely eclectic in their choices, and their magics."
"Experimenting to find what works. Like that kid who tried selling bod
y parts to Eve."
Jeremy nodded. "If they practiced African folk magic, Botnick would have known that and known how to refine his search."
"And we'd now know how to refine ours, looking for this group. Without that, all we have is a nice theory."
CAUSE AND EFFECT
AFTER LUNCH, WE STOPPED BY HOPE'S PLACE to update her. While she talked with Jeremy, I asked to borrow her phone book. I looked up Peter's son's name and found a handful of direct matches, plus a lengthy list of possibilities. When I explained to Hope and Jeremy what I was doing, Hope offered to help.
"With all that information you've got, I should be able to find him. Just tap into a few databases, unless..." She looked at me. "I don't mean to jump in."
"No, I'd appreciate it."
As I said it, I realized I meant it. Like Eve said, we all have our specialties. Finding people wasn't mine.
"I'd love to see how you do it, though," I said. "For next time."
"Sure." A watch check. "I've got twenty minutes before a meeting, so I'll boot up my laptop, try a few things. Might not find him, but we'll try."
She'd just cleared a spot on the table when my cell phone rang. I answered.
"Speaking of meetings," I said after I hung up. "It seems I have one. Becky wants me back at the house and she sounds pretty tense." I glanced at Jeremy. "You stay. I'll grab a taxi."
"No, I'll go with you."
Hope paused with her finger over the power button on her laptop. "Should I wait on this?"
"Not on my account. If you get a chance to look, that'd be great. If not, we'll do it later."
HOPE'S DOOR exited at the rear of the building. As we passed the adjoining alley, Jeremy glanced down it. He tried to be discreet, but the flare of his nostrils told me it was no casual sweep of his surroundings.
I stopped and peered into the alley. "What's down there?"
"Nothing."
I stepped into the shadows. "I could have sworn I saw you looking down here earlier too, when we first arrived."
He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to brush me off. "I was just...checking."
"Someone's following you, aren't they? Is it a werewolf?"
He walked over. "If that happened, I'd tell you, for your own safety. I'm just being cautious."
I wanted to press him, but he'd tell me if he wanted to--and wouldn't if he didn't. Still, I couldn't resist walking another few feet into the alley, testing his reaction. But he didn't grab my arm or call me back. When I glanced over my shoulder, his face was relaxed, meaning there was nothing to worry about.
I took two more steps and glanced back. "Not going to follow?"
He smiled. "Sorry. I was just...watching."
"Ah. Enjoying, I hope."
"Very much, though I must admit, it's igniting a question I've been trying not to think about all morning."
"And that would be?"
He tilted his head, gaze traveling over me, still standing at the mouth of the alley, making no move to come closer. "Whether you're as...unencumbered by extra articles of clothing as you were last night."
I laughed, then turned to face him. "I'm afraid yesterday's outfit wasn't very undergarment friendly. This one is." I unbuttoned my blouse and spread it apart. "See?"
"I do."
"Sorry to disappoint."
His gaze stayed fixed on my raspberry demi bra, the lace thin enough to leave little to the imagination. "I wouldn't say 'disappointed' is the word. Are there a matching pair of..." His gaze dropped below my hips.
"You don't expect me to show you that too. In a public alley? In the middle of the day?"
"Expect, no. Hope...?" He smiled.
"Well, it would be hard to show you that. This skirt isn't easy to lift up. It's too tight."
"So I see."
"I'd have to take it off."
The smile twitched. "Pity."
I looked around. There was no sign of anyone. I reached around for the zipper--
My cell phone rang. Jeremy let out a curse as I answered it.
"Jaime?" Angelique said. "Has Becky called you? There's a meeting."
"Angelique," I said, with a glance at Jeremy. "Yes, she called and we're, ah, on our way."
"Oh, thank God. I think--" A sharp intake of breath. "I think I'm being kicked off the set."
"What?"
"Will came by my room and asked whether I'd made my plane reservations for home yet or would I like him to do it. I said I didn't know what he was talking about and he wouldn't tell me, just apologized and hurried off."
"I'm sure he's mistaken. Or trying to spook you. Don't be surprised if Becky shows up in a few minutes, trying to bully you into agreeing to something--after he's scared you into thinking you're leaving. If she does, stall. I'll be there as soon as I can."
THE SHOOT was over. All of us were leaving.
Grady, Claudia, Angelique, Jeremy and I sat in the living room as Becky explained.
"Mr. Simon thinks we have more than enough footage for the lead-up bits," Becky said. "We'll film the Monroe seance live, as planned, but the preshow work here is done."
We stared at her.
"I had two interviews scheduled for tomorrow," I said. "I don't mind staying to do them--"
"Thanks, Jaime. Really. You're a trouper. But Mr. Simon wants everyone cleared out today."
"Today?"
I glanced at Jeremy, sitting silently beside me.
I turned back to Becky. "Aren't there more seances for us to film? You said there were six--"
"I'm afraid they just aren't going as planned, Jaime. Mr. Simon is pulling the plug."
In other words, we weren't giving the kind of reality TV footage they'd hoped for. I argued--we all argued--but it did no good. We'd had our chance.
"I hope you aren't telling us to pack our bags," I said finally. "I can't catch a flight to Chicago until tonight and I'm not going to sit around a terminal all day waiting."
"We have until the end of the day, I'm sure." Claudia's glare dared Becky to argue.
After a moment, Becky said, "As long as you're cleared out by sundown, because that's when the staff has been told they can leave."
WE WENT back to my room. Jeremy closed the door behind him and watched me getting out my necromancy kit. I double-checked, making sure I wasn't missing or low on anything.
Finally I looked up at Jeremy. "I'm doing the raising now."
"I see that."
I studied his expression. Blanker than usual.
"You're wondering why I practically announced it down there, telling Grady and Angelique I'm going into the garden for a while."
"The question did cross my mind."
"I'm setting the stage," I said as I checked my supply of vervain and hoped it would be enough.
Jeremy frowned. "Setting the stage for the discovery? I'm not sure that's--"
"Wise?" I finished. "Maybe not. But I'm trying to come up with something worthy of a television event. The spiritualist, summoned to the garden by the restless dead, uncovers their bodies. There's no way Todd Simon will shut us down after that. It'll add a whole new dimension to Death of Innocence. The show will go on and we won't need to leave before we've solved the mystery and freed the ghosts."
After a moment Jeremy said softly, "It could backfire, Jaime."
"Yep."
Another quiet moment, then, "It could cost you that TV show you want."
"I don't really want it anymore."
The words startled me at first. Then the sensation settled into one of relief, as I realized I'd given voice to a decision I'd been longing to make.
"I hate television," I said. "I don't need the added boost to sell tickets. So the only reason I have for pursuing it is self-satisfaction. To reach a goal I was raised to believe I should want, above all others. Well, I don't want it. These last couple of days I've hated it more than ever, because it was interrupting something I really wanted to do."
I looked up at Jeremy. "You said you like to help.
So do I, but I've been fighting it all my life. Maybe I'm not very good at it. And I'm sure I'll never run around chasing down problems like Paige or Hope. But this is what I want to do--now, not five years from now, after I've had a TV show that I'll hate every moment of. Time to do what will make me happy: stage work and council work."
"Good." He smiled, then went sober. "But this could still damage your professional reputation."
"Yep. It could." I opened a small tin of grave dirt and sniffed it for freshness. "But what matters right now isn't the show or my reputation, it's the children. What's best for them is to have me here, close by, with all-hours access, working to free them. Whatever the cost."
"But you can do this without the premonition angle. You happened to be in the garden. You saw something sticking from the dirt. You alerted the guards, who called the police. Their interviews alone will delay all plans to pack up today."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But giving this a spiritualist angle guarantees they won't pull the plug on the final show, which I suspect they're considering, despite all the promotion they've done. They'll back out and blame 'problems on the set'--meaning us. But if I find a body and claim it had something to do with spirit communication? The buzz will be too big for them to cancel it. Personally, I don't care anymore, but I feel...guilty, I guess. I'm responsible for getting us shut down, and now I may have ruined Angelique's big shot at stardom and Grady's chance to pick up a North American audience."
"We'll have to handle it carefully."
"I plan to."
OUR THEORY about this human magical group was that they were "scientists" of the occult world, trying and discarding various theories and practices, maybe latching onto a ritual or an ingredient that seemed to work, and experimenting until they found just the right combination, the one that did something.
As I prepared to raise a body, kneeling at my altar cloth while Jeremy and Eve kept watch, I pondered on how we--true supernaturals--weren't much different. There's no single way to raise a corpse. Every necromancer family has its way--one it swears is better than everyone else's.
Some use poppets--small dolls stuffed with hair or nail clippings from the target. The O'Caseys prefer a more complicated method, but one that doesn't require body bits.
As for the ingredients and invocations, again, they vary. Like spellcasters, we use what's been "proven" to work. As with spellcasters, there are those who say the whole thing is hooey--that we don't need to sprinkle grave dirt over a chalk symbol, we don't need to blow corpse dust to the four winds--that the power to raise the dead, as the power to communicate with them, is within us.