Touch: A Trilogy

by A. G. Carpenter

  A couple of women sit in a booth in the farthest corner. There’s a flash of silver jewelry and pale faces and then they draw back into the shadows.

  The barkeep is busy pulling mugs from a plastic dishwasher rack, drying the edges with towel before stacking them behind the counter with a precision that speaks of years of practice.

  Franklin takes a deep breath. “Stay close,” he says, and leads the way toward the bar.

  “What can I get you?” The barkeep looks up, sees me, and the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Uh-uh. We don’t serve underage in here.”

  “I’m not here to drink.” I slide onto the nearest bar stool. “I’m here to speak with the Sisters.”

  “I don’t know—”

  I rest my bandaged hand on the bar. “I think they’ll want to talk to me, too.”

  He pauses, eyes flicking back and forth in his head as he glances between me and Franklin.

  Franklin twitches his jacket open, rests his hands on his hips. The charms on his belt jingle softly.

  The barkeep’s lip shivers back from his teeth. “I expect they will.” He touches the stack of glasses behind the counter. “You’ll keep it civil, right?”

  “If they do.”

  He hesitates. “All right. Back this way.” He tosses his towel onto the half-empty rack of mugs and leads the way toward a doorway in the corner. A few strands of ugly beads dangle from the door frame, too far apart to make a sound even as we shoulder through them.

  The barkeep leads the way past a pair of scuffed doors that say “Men” and “Women,” pauses almost imperceptibly outside one marked “Office,” then knocks on the last door in the narrow hall. “Sarah?”

  The floor creaks, but the door doesn’t open. A woman’s voice filters through the paint-caked wood. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Alvin. You’ve got some visitors.”

  The door opens an inch to reveal a wedge of pale face with a purple bruise blossoming on her cheek. Green eyes narrow as she looks past the barkeep and sees me and Franklin.

  Alvin wipes his hands on the front of his shirt, nervous. “They said they want to talk.”

  “Hold on.” The door slams shut, and there’s a muffled flutter of voices on the other side. The words are indistinct, but the feeling is clear—arguing about whether or not to let us in. Finally, the door opens again, wider this time, and Sarah motions us inside.

  I go in first, letting Franklin stay back and guard the exit. If things go as I expect, it will be an unnecessary precaution, but between the two of us, he still poses a bigger threat to the Sisters. Better to give him some distance and let him watch our way out.

  The five Sisters settle around the edge of the room, each keeping enough distance between them that it would be difficult to attack them. One of them keeps glancing out the window next to her, peering up and down the street before looking back at us.

  Sarah crosses her arms on her chest and glares at us. “What do you want?”

  “To make a deal.”

  “A deal.” She looks back at the others. “For what?”

  “I need help with this.” I pull the folded page that I copied out of the Book of the Dead from my pocket and hold it out.

  Sarah takes it, unfolds it with her fingertips as if she is handling something unpleasant. For a moment she is quiet, studying the diagram and the archaic language surrounding it. Her eyes narrow, and she looks at me suspiciously. “This is forbidden.”

  “The taking of life to perform it is forbidden.” I spread my hands. “But this body has already died once. There will be no...censure for putting it to this use.”

  The woman by the window shuffles her feet, uneasy. “What is she talking about Sarah?”

  Sarah hands her the paper silently, never taking her eyes off me. “I’m still not sure I understand. If you have the use of this body...”

  “It is failing.” I take a half-step closer. “I have been separated from my own bones, and I need them back. To do that, I need your help.” A twirl of my fingers to indicate the five of them.

  The woman by the window shakes her head. “We are not strong enough. If we were, we would not—” She breaks off, eyeing Franklin lurking by the door. “We are not strong enough,” she says again.

  “I can provide a source of Power.”

  Sarah tilts her head. Glances back over her shoulder at the others. “You said you wanted to make a deal. What are you offering us in exchange for our assistance?”

  “I am offering what you have been trying to steal.” I grin as they all look at Franklin. “No. Not from Laurel.” I straighten my shirt, suddenly self-conscious. “But once my flesh and bones are remade, I will let you take a portion of my Power.”

  The woman by the window shakes her head. “How do we know it is not a trick? How do we know you can do what you’re promising?”

  “How do you know I’m not?”

  Sarah steps in close, catching me under the chin as she looks deep in my eyes. Her fingers hurt, but I don’t flinch away, just wait for her to find the truth hiding under this borrowed skin. It takes her longer than it took the necromancer. I guess maybe because she isn’t as strong. But when she sees it, she flinches as if burned—shaking her hand like she can feel the heat of my soul.

  For a moment, she looks like she will run—past Franklin at the door or even out the window behind her. Then the greed that has driven her all these years kicks in. She smiles. “All right. How do we make this happen?”

  “Crossing, Georgia. Two days. There’s a ruined house in the woods outside town where my bones lie. You’ll be able to feel it.”

  Sarah nods. “All right. In two days then.”

  “Good.” I look at Franklin.

  He reaches back to open the door wide, then steps into the hall—not turning his back on the Sisters. “Come on, Delaney.”

  The barkeep is sweeping up as we head toward the door. He pauses to lean on his broom for a moment as we pick our way between the tables. “Y’all good?”

  Franklin grunts as he holds the door for me.

  Alvin scowls. “Have a blessed day,” he calls after us.

  “Asshole.” Franklin drops into the driver’s seat of the car and starts the engine.

  I scramble into the car and shut the door hurriedly. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He rolls his shoulders and waves his hand, as if throwing something away. “Some devils are harder to deal with than others.”

  16

  When we get back to the motel, we find Laurel sitting on the curb outside the rooms, a cigarette clutched in one trembling hand.

  Franklin eases the car into an empty spot and leans his head out the window. “What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head, takes a long drag.

  I step out of the car, tired already. “Laurel?”

  She glares at me. “Take a look inside.”

  The TV is on, the voice of a news commentator droning like a lone fly against a window pane. “The FBI has not issued an official statement yet, but our reporter has uncovered a string of similar cases stretching across decades and several states. Previous investigations have not resulted in any arrests.”

  The woman on the TV shuffles her papers. “Which leads us to this hour’s Hot Topic: are the restrictions on the use of magic enough? Joining me are Dr. Lucas Tan and Dr. Amelia Esperanza.”

  Franklin punches the mute button on the remote as the experts say Hello and Thanks for having me. Video rolls in the background, police tape and flashing lights. A sheet-draped figure and the rough lines of a five-pointed star scratched in a dirty alley.

  Laurel props herself against the doorframe, cigarette held out to one side so the smoke won’t drift into the room. “They killed someone else.”

  “Ah.” My legs are too tired to have this conversation standing up, so I plop onto the edge of the bed.

  She glares at me. “Did you know? That they would find someone else?”

  “No. But it was a possibility. It’s what the
y did last time.”

  “Last time?” She sucks on the end of the cigarette, blows the smoke into the hot summer air. “Last time Franklin kept them from sucking me dry and they ran before they could be caught.”

  “Not before...” I pause, remembering the arcane syringe Franklin used to steal part of Percy’s memory. “Oh.”

  “What do you mean, oh?” She takes a final drag on the cigarette, smashes it out against the stucco outside the door. “This is your fault, isn’t it?”

  I look at Franklin, uncertain what to say. Villain is not a role I am accustomed to playing, and no matter what I do next, Laurel will only look at me with deeper disgust.

  She stomps her foot, petulant in her anger. “Why are you looking at him?”

  Franklin sighs. “Because it’s not her fault. The Sisters were desperate. Especially after having used so much energy trying to steal your magic.” He squares his shoulders as though bracing for a blow. “They had to find someone else.”

  “But last time...” She trails off, eyes going wide. “No.”

  “Yes. Last time they found someone else, too. Not as strong perhaps. Not the one they wanted to begin with. But they had no choice.” He licks his lips. “And then, when you heard it on the radio, you were so upset. So guilt-ridden.” A shrug. “It seemed better that you not remember.”

  Laurel rolls her fingers into fists. “You took part of my memory?”

  “To keep you safe. To keep you from hurting.”

  She punches him—hard enough to cut his lip on the edge of his teeth.

  “Laurel.” He tries to catch her by the arm, but she slaps his hands away.

  “Don’t touch me.” She pushes past him to the other room and slams the door behind her.

  I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nah.” He wipes the trickle of blood off his chin with the back of his hand. “I knew she might find out someday. That’s on me.” He turns the TV off and drops the remote onto the dresser. “I hope your lover is more understanding.”

  My cheeks turn hot. “Me too.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I press my cold fingers against my face to try and soothe the flush of embarrassment. “Just not used to thinking about Percy in that way.”

  Franklin tilts his head, amused. “No? I saw the way you looked at him. The way he looked at you.”

  “I mean. Just not that word, I guess.” I pull my books closer, searching for Martinez’s phone number.

  He touches his lip again. “Ouch.”

  “You need some ice for that?”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “And Laurel?”

  He glances toward the closed door. “She’ll be okay. Just give her some time.”

  I find the page I’m looking for. “You want me to call Martinez? Or should you do it?”

  “I’ll do it.” He takes the notebook from me. “You want to meet him somewhere, right?”

  “There’s a walking trail not too far from here. Has a big parking lot, not too public, not too isolated.”

  “Okay.” Franklin pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “Give me a minute.”

  I curl up on the bed while he steps outside. Wish there was more coffee. Or I’d worn a different shirt under my jacket. Something to help keep the last spark of warmth in this cold body.

  “You ready to go?”

  “What?” I twitch awake and upright.

  Franklin has that furrow across his forehead again, worried. “I said, are you ready to go?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I must have fallen asleep.” I grit my teeth and stand up. “Let’s go.”

  “Maybe we should grab something to eat on the way.”

  “Coffee,” I say, pointing myself at the door and willing my feet to move. “I could use some coffee.”

  “Okay.” He pulls the door shut behind us. “There’s a burger place on the corner.”

  “Great.” I drop into the passenger seat, trying to maintain control over clumsy arms and legs.

  Franklin pauses, looking at me hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I grin. “As okay as a ghost in a dead body can be.”

  He frowns but starts the car. “Right.” Backs around and pulls out into the street. “Let’s get you some coffee then.”

  17

  Franklin leans against the side of the car, arms crossed over his chest. He watches the parking lot. “You sure he’ll come?”

  “Yes.” I’m sitting on the edge of the back seat. The door is open to let the warm summer air circulate, but I struggle not to shiver. Even with my jacket on and the warmth of the late afternoon sun touching the side of my face, I’m still cold.

  “What if he brings the cops with him?” Franklin shifts, the muscle in his jaw fluttering.

  “He won’t.”

  He looks at me doubtful, and I comb my hair back from my face. “He won’t. He wants to see the Sisters done away with, too.”

  Franklin nods reluctantly. “I hope you’re right. Otherwise we’re both about to land in an interrogation room.”

  A car pulls into the other side of the parking lot. Not one of the big black SUVs the Special Investigations team drives, but small and practical. After a moment, Martinez gets out. He turns, looks around. Touches the holster on his belt and then walks over, slow and deliberate.

  Franklin steps away from the car, hands hanging loose at his sides. “Agent Martinez. Thank you for coming.”

  “Mr. Jones.” Martinez pauses as I slide out of the backseat. “Alex Michaels. What are you doing here?”

  I smile and wrap my arms across my chest. “I need your help with Percy.”

  “With Percy?” His eyes narrow, and he steps close and looks at me intently, as if he will pull this flesh right off of me and reveal what is underneath. “Delaney,” he says finally.

  “Yes.” The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

  Martinez shudders and, with visible effort, pulls his hand away from his gun. “I thought you were gone.”

  “Not yet. And I need help with Percy.” I look at him sternly. “You need help with Percy.”

  He’s silent for a long moment. “Maybe.” He looks at Franklin. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

  “The Sisters are after my...sister. Delaney has proposed a way to solve my problem, and hers, at the same time.”

  Martinez scowls, a predatory hunch to his shoulders. “So it is the Sisters that have been working in Atlanta.”

  Franklin nods. “Yes. Doing what they always do.”

  “Stealing power from others.” Martinez touches his gun again, then crosses his arms on his chest. “Tell me how you intend to stop them.”

  Franklin combs his braids back from his face. “It’s complicated.”

  “An exchange,” I say. “They will help me regain my bones, and once I am me again, I will let them take a portion of my magic.”

  “And Percy?” Martinez looks at me sharp.

  “He will help put me back in my bones. He will use up that lingering power in a way that will not hurt anyone.” I spread my fingers like a magician revealing a hidden card. “Everyone gets what they want and no one else gets hurt.”

  Martinez paces a slow circle, staring at the pavement. Props his hands on his hips. “Why are you telling me this? Why not just go to Percy?”

  “Because he doesn’t remember I’ve returned. Because I need you to do something he won’t.”

  His frown deepens as he considers what exactly Percy wouldn’t do. Finally, “Like Gil Mains, you mean.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what’s to keep Percy from coming after me when I separate this body from your soul?”

  “He’ll be too busy trying to bring me back to think about you. And afterwards...” I shrug. “His magic will be diminished. And changed.”

  “And the Sisters?” He leans in close. “How do you plan to handle them?”

  “They’ll get what they want,” I say, firm. “And so will both of
you.”

  “I want them dead.” His voice is low, but the look in his eyes makes my heart lurch. He may not have the Touch, but the anger lurking within him is eerily similar to the thing that hides inside Percy.

  “And what would you do to make that happen?”

  “Anything.” There is no hesitation, no tremor of doubt.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “Help me, and I will see that you get what you want.”

  Martinez grips my elbow, hard enough it makes my fingers tingle. “Promise me.”

  “They will die.”

  He glances at Franklin, who nods. “So she has promised me.”

  Martinez lets go of me, reluctant. “All right. When?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “In Crossing?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  He rubs his forehead. “It may be difficult getting away. Bringing Percy with me.”

  “You’ll figure it out.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hide another wave of shivers.

  Martinez looks at me—weighing what he wants, calculating what he will do to get it. “And Percy? You’ll not hurt him?” He says it reluctantly.

  “It is not an easy road.” I resist the urge to put my arms around him. “But keeping him separated from his past… This is better.”

  He nods. “Maybe.” Again his fingers brush against his gun. A reassurance maybe. Or a warning to me. “If anything happens to him…”

  This time I am not able to refuse the instinct. I lay my hand against his cheek. “I know.” I lean closer. “Do not let go of your friendship, Luis.”

  He steps back and glares at me. Angry maybe because I have seen the weakness in him. A weakness we both share. Percy.

  My legs tremble, vision blurring. Even the heat rolling off the blacktop is not enough to chase the chill away. I hold my hands out and try to find my balance as ground swings underneath me.

  Franklin puts his arms around me, quick, gently guiding me the few steps back to the car. “You need to rest.”

  I fold up in the back seat, too tired to do anything other than mumble thank you.

  Martinez says something. The words are muddy.

  Franklin is less garbled. “She doesn’t have much time left.”