"I--I don't know. They took her out of the room and I--"
"And you what?" he snarled, any remaining wisps of the sophisticated mask falling away.
"Karl."
Jeremy's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it stopped the other man short.
"I was looking for her," I hurried on. "She's unconscious and tied up, and they brought her in here, out of the way, but I can't find--"
His head whipped up, nostrils flaring. A slow pivot. Then he strode across the room and yanked open a closet. There, on the floor, was Hope. When Karl started to lift her, Jeremy moved up behind him and leaned down to whisper, "We don't have time. Just move her to another room."
Karl hesitated.
Jeremy said, "We can finish this now. She'll be safe then."
Karl lifted Hope, then turned to me. "Describe the room. Exits. Weapons. How many people? What kind of--?"
Jeremy motioned for him to slow down and look after Hope first. He took her into another room. When he returned, I'd already explained everything. Then Jeremy came up with a plan.
JEREMY STUDIED my face, not asking "are you okay with this?" but looking for the answer. I nodded, then turned my attention back to the door. My heart was thumping so loud I was sure Jeremy and Karl could hear it, but they gave no sign, just waited in their places--Karl behind the door, Jeremy on the other side of the opening.
As I turned the lock, Karl slid his foot against the base of the door, then looked at me. When I nodded, he eased his foot back an inch and I cracked open the door. It was like walking into a horror movie--a soundtrack of human screams and babbling mixed with the enraged and garbled cries of the zombie beasts.
Something--or someone--hit the door, the jolt hard enough to make me jump, but the door didn't move, Karl's foot and hand blocking it.
I closed my eyes and cast the incantation to return those poor souls to wherever they'd come from. I kept casting until the screams--human and beast--dropped to sobs and muted cries.
Then I jumped back. Jeremy swung around the doorway, Karl following. I cast the release incantation one last time as they disappeared into the darkness. Then I slammed the door shut and turned the lock.
I WAS supposed to wait outside the door for fifteen minutes, then unlock it. As I stood there, I tried very hard not to picture what was happening inside the killing room. At least it would be easy to clean up the carnage afterward. I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms.
As I moved, I caught the whisper of muffled voices, pleading. I rubbed my arms harder, torn between wanting to retreat to someplace where I couldn't overhear and wanting to put my ear to the door, to reassure myself the screams and pleading weren't coming from Jeremy or Karl. I might not care for Karl Marsten, but I didn't want to see the man killed.
A thump sounded above me. I started, then strained to listen, but heard nothing. Even the killing room had gone quiet. Another thud, definitely overhead.
Jeremy would have cleared the upper levels, but did that mean they were still clear? Two group members had apparently skipped the emergency meeting. Or were they just late?
A board creaked. I glanced at the door, but my watch said I had eight minutes to go, and I wasn't opening it one second sooner. Nor was I going to cower here and wait to be discovered by an intruder.
I was in the small TV room, the door to the killing room normally hidden behind a wall hanging. I looked around for a potential weapon. A book? A lamp? A picture? I was about to laugh at the last, when I stopped. Picture. Picture frame. Glass.
I grabbed an old eight-by-ten sepia photograph from the shelf and smashed it against the television cabinet. As I reached for the biggest shard, I saw my bare hand. I yanked off my shoe, removed my sock, then put my shoe back on...and the sock on my hand. It looked ridiculous, but it was better than sliced fingertips. I picked up the shard with my "gloved" hand, then started for the hall.
I was almost at the top of the steps when I heard another soft thump. I pinpointed the direction and followed, creeping through the kitchen toward what looked like a living room. As I edged along the kitchen cabinets, a blur flew across the doorway.
I backpedaled. Another thump. Then something moved by the base of the doorway. A fat calico tabby peered out. The cat looked at me, then at the glass in my hand.
Great. The one time I'm prepared--weapon and all--and my opponent is an overfed house cat.
As I turned to head back, the doorway darkened.
"Hello, Jaime."
May stood at the top of the stairs.
How--? I pictured the half-open door. When I'd counted heads, I hadn't checked for May, presuming she was still unconscious on the floor.
Apparently I hadn't been the only one who'd taken advantage of the cacophony to escape.
She spoke again, but her next words made no sense. I struggled to understand, then realized they weren't in English. A spell. As I tensed, ready to dive out of the spell's path, I felt a sharp edge biting into my fingertips. The glass!
I ran at May, my hand raised. Her brows knitted, the spell dying in her throat as she stared in bewilderment at the sock sailing toward her. Then her eyes went wide, seeing the glass. Too late. I slashed and laid open her cheek. Blood sprayed. She stumbled back. I kicked, hoping to knock her down the stairs, but my aim was off.
May lunged at me. I swung the glass again, but this time only caught the side of her blouse. The glass snagged and flew from my fingers. As May veered toward me, the glass fell onto a throw rug.
I dove for it, but May cast a spell and something hit me, like in the garden, knocking me sideways. As I regained my balance, May caught me by the back of the shirt. I twisted sharply and pulled free.
I scrambled for the glass shard. She hit me with another spell, this one knocking the wind from my lungs. I blacked out for a split second, then came to as May grabbed my shirt again, yanking me off balance.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Jaime," she said.
"Just kidnap me, right?" I wriggled in her grasp, not fighting, just getting my footing. "Well, you know what? I'm a little tired of being kidnapped."
I swung my fist and hit her square in the jaw. As she released me, I dove for the glass. My fingers wrapped around it and I was turning, flying back to my feet, when a shape passed to my left. I wheeled to see Eve holding what looked like...a sword. A very big sword.
I shook off my surprise and dove at May, shard raised, aiming for her throat. But Eve's sword was in flight, sailing toward May, whose gaze was fixed on me, lips drawn back, pushing to her feet. Before I could reach her, the sword cleaved through her torso. She reeled, mouth working as she clutched the left side of her chest.
She tottered. Then she collapsed.
There was no blood. No mark on her body. Yet she didn't move.
"Is she...?"
"She better be," Eve said. "Or this baby needs a recharge."
I struggled from the cloud of shock and turned to Eve. "I didn't need to be rescued."
"Sorry, but my sword outranks your..." she glanced at my hand, "sock puppet."
"It's a glass shard," I said, lifting it.
Her lips twitched. "Ah." A pause and she sobered. "You're right, Jaime. You had her, and maybe I should have let you take her down, but this?" She lifted the sword. "Less messy. In more ways than one."
She laid down the weapon as May's spirit began to separate from her body.
I stared at the sword. It was at least four feet long and inscribed with symbols. As the metal glowed, I remembered stories my Nan had told me of necromancers at executions or deaths of criminals, seeing spirits bearing glowing swords, come to claim the souls. The Sword of Judgment. Not a weapon wielded by just any ghost.
"You're a--an--" I couldn't get the word out. "The job you do for the Fates. You're an...angel?"
"Maybe." She winked. "Or maybe I just swiped the sword."
She grabbed May's silent spirit by the shoulders, yanked her free and disappeared.
I stood there, staring
at the spot where they'd vanished. Then I heard a thump. I glanced toward the living room, expecting to see the cat again. The noise came again, from downstairs. I was late for an appointment.
THE KILLING room was remarkably clean. I guess I should have known that. Jeremy and Karl didn't need to Change into wolves. Part of being such efficient killers was knowing how to kill efficiently.
Four bodies lay in the room, all with broken necks. The only blood came from Karl's nose. Elbowed in the melee. He gave Jeremy a few seconds to examine it, then hurried to Hope.
Once Jeremy discovered May was dead, and I was fine, it was time to consider body disposal. He knew more about crime-scene cleanup than anyone should. He'd said before that it was a necessary "skill" for the Alpha--when he sent Clayton and Elena to stop a man-killing mutt, they often had to clean up. As Alpha, though, he would only need to teach the skills. Yet watching him that day, I remembered what he'd said about having to cover his father's kills.
Whatever my mother had done to me, it paled in comparison to that.
BEFORE THEY removed the bodies, Jeremy checked on Hope too. As I waited in the hall, Eve returned with Kristof.
"Got a couple of bodies for us to look after too, I see," she said.
She waved through the doorway into the TV room, where Brendan and Murray waited, quiet, lost in their thoughts. I explained. When I finished, I headed over to Brendan.
"Ready to go?" I asked.
"I--" He blinked, dazed, as if the fact of his death was only hitting him now, after he'd escaped the room where he'd died. "I guess so."
"I'll take him," Kristof said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He walked to the young man, his hand outstretched. "Brendan, isn't it?"
He shook Kristof's hand. "Y-yes, sir."
"Kristof." He put his arm around the boy's shoulders and led him from the room. "Is there anyplace you'd like to visit before we go, Brendan?"
Their voices faded as they headed up the stairs. Eve walked to Murray, who sprang off the sofa.
"There are some places I'd like to visit," he said. "See my wife one last time and--"
"You should have thought of that before you butchered six kids," Eve said. "Judgment awaits, and it's getting impatient."
"B-but I helped you guys. Ask--"
He tried to turn toward me, but Eve grabbed his arm.
"Take it up with the Fates."
As they disappeared, Jeremy stepped into the room. "Jaime? Time to go."
JEREMY HAD Karl take Hope and me to her apartment, then he returned to help Jeremy finish the cleanup. During those two hours we spent alone, Hope didn't say a word about what had happened. Instead she worked to make a big meal, as if feeding the men when they returned was mission critical.
When the men did arrive, Jeremy ate, but it seemed more out of politeness than hunger. Then we left. On the way to the car, I said, "So you could follow my trail from the house? I wasn't sure you could."
He hesitated, and I knew he was considering whether to lie, then shook his head and said, "There wasn't a trail. They must have driven you over."
"So how did you know...?" I let the sentence trail off and dug the rune sketch from my pocket. "This?"
"A magical homing device?" He smiled. "I wish it were that simple. I sensed you, as I do sometimes with the Pack. I could tell you were in trouble, came back, found that you and Hope were gone. Then I found you. Somehow."
I fingered the rune.
He shook his head. "Clay and Elena don't carry the ones I did for them, and I've never done any for the rest of the Pack. Whatever let me find you, it's not a piece of paper."
"Well, then, you won't mind if I have it made into a necklace, right? Or, all things considered, maybe a tattoo."
He smiled and pulled me into a kiss.
THE ROAD HOME
TWO GROUP MEMBERS REMAINED AT LARGE, but the council would convene to discuss that. What remained now was the resolution of my primary goal: freeing the children's spirits. Eve and the Fates had "interrogated" May Donovan and now understood what had happened. As for whether it was a fluke or the start of some evolutionary change in the supernatural world...that remained to be seen.
As for what had happened, Eve said only that the children's spirits had been drained by the magic, which was pretty much what we'd already suspected. If there was a more complex explanation, I wasn't getting it. Maybe Eve didn't think I'd understand, not being a spellcaster. Or maybe the Fates didn't dare go into detail, hoping that if no one in our plane understood, then it couldn't be replicated.
The explanation didn't concern me. All I wanted to know was could we undo it? Could we set the children free? The answer was yes.
Returning to the Brentwood garden wasn't easy. While I had a good reason to return--I was still in residence--I'd likely find myself taken aside for questioning the moment I appeared. I hadn't been anywhere near Angelique's body so we weren't too concerned about the police investigation. Was it safer, then, to plod through the interrogation, then slip out and release the spirits? Or should we sneak back and conduct the ritual right away?
Jeremy, Eve and Kristof debated the options. I acted as "translator," but didn't enter into the discussion. My mind was made up. I had to free those children. No one else could do it for me, and I wasn't taking the chance that I would be prevented from doing so, or even delayed.
I readied my arguments, but didn't need them. No one wanted to wait.
EVE AND Kristof scouted the garden, recruiting and organizing Tansy, Gabrielle and the other ghosts to stand guard. We mapped out all police activity and devised a route that would take us into the garden from the neighbor's yard, and keep us away from the crime scene.
Then Jeremy Changed. Even in human form, he'd be quicker to pick up approaching officers than the ghosts, but if seen on a crime scene, he'd be in trouble. A canine, on the other hand, was just a nuisance--warranting a call to the dogcatcher at most. And if I needed a distraction, a huge black dog would be just the thing.
THE SPOT Eve had chosen for the ritual was ringed with ghosts, most of whom I'd never seen before. They said nothing, as if they feared distracting me. A smile here, a nod there, then they returned to their solemn vigil.
I walked along the path, down the gauntlet of guards. My kit was in the house, but I didn't need it. My role here was simple. I was the magnet to draw the children from wherever they were hiding.
"Are you here?" I whispered.
Silence. Something moved to my left and I looked over sharply, but it was only a breeze rippling the rosebushes.
"Hello?" I said, as loud as I dared. "I'm back. Are you still here?"
No one answered.
"I haven't been around much lately. And maybe, what's been happening here, it's scared you. But it's over now and I can help."
A sigh. My skin prickled. The wind rustled through a tree and the sigh came again, a loose branch creaking softly.
I talked some more, aware even as I did that they almost certainly couldn't understand me even if they were close enough to overhear. Yet I kept talking, hoping the sound of my voice would draw them in.
The garden stayed silent and still.
I closed my eyes and thought of Rachel Skye, the girl Eve had contacted. A child I knew only as a body in a garden. A young girl, taking a shortcut home from school to see her favorite show, murdered and dumped in a garden. I thought of the others, all the children whose touches and pokes I'd felt, whose voices I'd heard, those who didn't have names and stories and maybe never would, not for me.
I thought of Brendan, little more than a child himself, stoic in his fate, as if it was the price one paid for following a dream. I thought of the young teens I passed on the street in L.A. and Chicago and every other big city, all the lost children. And, just for a second, I thought of myself, of my own child, lost all those years ago.
Something grazed my arm. I opened my eyes to see Jeremy. Drawn by my thoughts, concerned. He glanced at me. Then his attention was snagged
by something to the left and he tilted his head, confusion in his eyes. I followed his gaze, but saw only the ghosts standing guard.
Fingers tickled my cheek. More brushed my hair. The whispering began. I went still, straining to hear, convinced I was imagining it. Then Eve stepped through the rosebushes.
"They're here," she said.
WITH THE arrival of the children, my role ended and Eve and Kristof's began. They knelt on the path and prepared to conduct the ritual the Fates had given them. Kristof set up the materials. Eve recited the incantation. Jeremy stood silently at my side. The children patted me and whispered. I don't think I breathed through the entire thing.
When Eve finished the incantation, the touches and whispers of the children stopped. I swear my heart stopped with them. I looked around frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of them, praying something hadn't gone wrong.
Then I saw a faintly shimmering form. Then another. A third. A fourth. As faint as Brendan had been.
Slowly the tallest form materialized. A boy about thirteen. Dark eyed, probably Latino, with hair that fell into his face, reminding me of Jeremy. I instinctively smiled, and the boy's gaze went to me, head tilted, as if trying to figure out what I was looking at.
"Hello," I said.
He smiled. "Hi."
Another of the forms materialized. A girl about eleven, with lank dark blond hair held back in butterfly clips.
"Rachel?" I said.
My voice caught as I remembered what I'd done to her, seeing those bony fingers frantically clawing the air.
"Rachel, I--"
She ran over and threw her arms around me and I swear, for the briefest second, I felt them. Then her hands passed through me. Eve came up behind her and knelt, putting her hands on the girl's shoulders as if to reassure her that she could still touch someone.
Behind Eve, another girl had appeared. A couple of years younger than Rachel, with cornrows and glittering earrings that caught the light as she looked around, uncertain, as if she didn't quite recognize the world from this side of the veil. I walked over to her and bent down.
"Hello, there. I'm Jaime. And who would you be?"
Maybe not the right question to ask a traumatized child, but she met my gaze and smiled, as if finding something she did recognize.