Greywalker g-1

by Kat Richardson

  Carlos let loose his unpleasant, feral grin and told him, with a gleam in his eye. I sat back and waited as they worked out their uneasy alliance and laid plans. At last I stood up, noticing that Alice had drawn back a few steps, but not far.

  Edward rose to his feet. "I am in your debt for timely warnings. And for delivering my enemies into my hands. I shall do as I've promised, but you should leave now."

  I was tired and sore from the twisting and battering of being in their presence. I started to turn away, but he reached out again and caught my wrist. I spun back around, racked by the touch of waking nightmare.

  "You could be an asset to me, you know." His thumb stroked over the soft spot on the underside of my wrist. I wanted to pull away, but I didn't dare.

  I clamped down on my jellied nerves and managed to keep my feet. "Thank you," I whispered, "but I'm no good without my independence." I eased my hand from his and made my way to the door. Stares, speculation, fury, and curiosity ripped into my flesh as I went. I heard Edward say "Alice…" in a gleaming, razor voice, and I bolted the last few steps to put the door between myself and the swelling pressure of imminent violence.

  Outside, a shadow clutched me and dragged me into its darkness. My knees gave. A clawed hand over my mouth stopped me screaming and I gagged as the bleak, ancient depths of the Grey closed in. He spun me into the dark, but the fire-outlined snake shape and bulking horror riding it were plain.

  He let me go and loomed. "Lovely performance, Greywalker. You're advancing nicely."

  "What do you want, Wygan?" I demanded, keeping myself upright only by clutching the stair rail at my back.

  "Just came for the show, for the feast of their rage. Your little curtain-raiser was well done. My gift is serving very well. I'm pleased."

  I croaked, "Pleased? I didn't do it for you."

  He laughed obsidian shards. "Nonetheless."

  A fury of sound shook the doors behind us, the Grey roiling and pitching in full storm. He laughed louder, washing himself in the roar and swell of chaos, fear, and anger flooding out of the merely material doors.

  "Yes, you do well," he shouted over the tumult. "I'll look forward to our next meeting. You'll be everything I could have hoped!"

  His laughter battered at me, taking on a drunken giddiness which rose to a shriek of delight. He stared at the doors, reaching out to them and drinking in the pandemonium that poured out on the flood tide of furious, twisting energy. I swung around the newelpost, shoving my way up from the Grey depths, and bolted, scrambling and stumbling, ripping my stockings, my knees, and my arms on the marble stairs.

  I lunged upward, gasping, to escape whatever dreadful thing had come to life below. Arms snagged under my own and slammed me back into the other world's serrated blackness whipped by stabbing light and lacerating screams.

  Cameron dropped me back to my feet across the street, huge maelstrom eyes staring into mine.

  "Run!"

  Chapter 30

  We ran like two deer flushed from cover. I'd lost my shoes somewhere and my legs and arms were scraped and bleeding, but we never stopped nor turned back to investigate the storm behind us. In the office, I collapsed into my chair, shaking and gulping air. I felt sore, sick, wretched, and tired to death. Cameron sat still and kept quiet while I pulled myself back together.

  Still shaking, but able to breathe, I looked at my bruised, bloodied limbs. "I'm kind of a mess." The world seemed unstable and prone to shimmer, lighting up with strange colors. I kept talking, just for the sound of a voice. "But I think we're all right."

  "What do you suppose happened back there?" Cameron asked. "I had a weird feeling just before the screaming started."

  "I think it was the opening salvo of the war. When I left, Edward was about to have a chat with Alice."

  "Oh. You don't think she could take him out, do you? Then we'd be humped."

  I shrugged, feeling pulped. "I doubt it. If Carlos chose to defend Edward, I'd expect it to get pretty nasty. That chaos might have been something Wygan did, too. He seemed to be expecting it, he was almost—" I broke off, gulping against bile. "You OK, Harper?" I jerked aside and heaved my dinner into the trash tan. This night was killing me. I hung there with my head down for a minute, waiting for the giddiness to pass.

  Something crashed out in the hall and Cameron reentered the office carrying a paper cup full of water. I pulled myself up. He put the water on the desk and I took it with a questioning look.

  He shifted from foot to foot. "Bathroom door was locked."

  "Landlord'll have to fix it," I croaked. I really didn't give a damn. I rinsed my mouth and spat into the trash. "Thanks. And thanks for getting me out of there."

  "I was afraid to touch you, because you always act like it hurts, but I figured whatever was back there was worse."

  "You figured right. You'll make a pretty intimidating vampire someday." I coughed.

  "I think I'd rather go the smooth and seductive route, thanks."

  I eyed him, his blond hair a tangle, mustache ratty. He grinned. We both broke up in desperate laughter.

  I gasped, clutching my very sore belly, and lay back into the chair.

  "Maybe we should rethink our schedule, Harper."

  "Huh?" I mumbled. I didn't think I could move. The chair was drawing me into its old, worn shape, muffling me with the comforting smell of warm leather and old files. My eyelids were as sore as the rest, so I closed them.

  "You seem pretty wrecked. Maybe you should rest a couple of days before we go after that organ."

  "Can't. Carlos and Edward laid plans. 'Sides, longer we wait, better chance the ghost will find it, or something like tonight happens again. Can't take much more of this. Have to cut it off, now…"

  Cameron sighed a long, sad stream of blue fog. "I guess." I heard him say as the soft mist folded over me and I faded down to unconsciousness.

  The buzzing of my pager woke me. My office was chill and empty but for me and a sound in the hall. My chest ached more than the rest of me.

  Clank and scratch, something pushed on my office door. I started to raise my head. A flicker passed the edge of my vision. I peered side-ways and the Grey blazed in sunrise colors around the door, centered on a furious, red shape. I whipped my head to look, letting the Grey well up all around, flushing the room with rippling strands and a thin, cold mist.

  Alice flew through the door at me. By reflex, I flung up my hands, shoving back against the grim crimson of her fury. She stopped inches from me, teeth bared and hands like reaping hooks.

  She was a horror. A long slash had rent away part of her cheek, deforming her mouth and leaving a band of muscle exposed. Her clothing was tattered and her limbs were misshapen, showing broken bones and gouges that oozed black. Fury, pain, and violence whirled around her, reeking of blood and eviscerated bodies.

  Looming over me, she hissed through her broken mouth, "Trickster witch. I would shred you, but your blood will feed me better."

  My heart racketed and choked me. I barely dredged up the words, "No harm, Alice. You promised."

  "Lied to me. Betrayed me. You die for it."

  I rolled out of the chair and leaned on my desk, weak-legged. "I agreed to make a path to Edward and stand aside. Only that. I did that. I didn't stand in your way. I told you to be patient. You misplayed your moment." Barely keeping my brain functioning, I was dizzy with fatigue, and the Grey twisted through me, wringing out my strength.

  She howled rage, frozen by her promise. My geas had worked.

  She leveled burning eyes at me, catching me, pressing her command against me. "I will find a way and you will stand aside. You will neither help nor hinder. You will do nothing and you will go unharmed. Break this promise, and I will kill you for days, dine upon you slowly, drinking your screams like wine."

  I couldn't pull away from her. I was too exhausted to push or dodge. It wouldn't matter, though, once the organ was gone. I found myself nodding, panting, "All right. I'll stand aside."

>   She spun away, the door crashing behind her as I fell to the floor.

  I woke at five o'clock, stiff, cold, and miserable, huddled on the floor. I dragged myself home.

  A phone call awakened me again at ten. Nightmares of the night before left me incoherent when I answered, but the voice on the other end chirped, "Good morning. May I speak to Harper Blaine, please?"

  I grunted and prepared to dump her into telephonic oblivion. The last thing I could deal with was a telemarketer.

  "Ms. Blaine? Edward Kammerling requested that we call you and confirm your appointment and ask if everything was still on schedule."

  "Uh… yeah. Edwards OK?"

  "Oh, yes. He wanted you to know that everything is on track for tonight's party, but that you will have to make your own transportation arrangements. He has his own way in, of course. Will that be a problem?"

  "No."

  "That's what we hoped to hear. Everything else will be taken care of. Thank you and have a nice day!"

  My stomach gurgled and I pitched the phone back into its cradle, burying my head under the pillow and wishing damnation on all TPM employees, living or undead.

  Getting out of bed was difficult. My limbs were stiff with scabs and bruises, I felt like I had the flu, and too many sleepless nights weighed me down. The previous night was muddy in my mind, nightmare differentiated poorly from reality. The night ahead didn't promise to be any better.

  I called Will, hoping to touch normalcy. Michael answered.

  "Where's Will?"

  "He's out at the police station."

  "Is he OK?"

  I could hear him shrug, unhappily. "I guess… I gotta go to class. I'll tell him you called, though."

  That would have to do. I wandered around the condo, listless, aching. I kept picking up the ferret and cuddling her, hoping that things weren't as awful as they seemed and that hiding my face in her warm, fragrant fur would somehow make them better. Chaos didn't appreciate the attention and jumped out of my stifling arms, skipping off to throw books down from shelves. I hoped I'd see her again and I left a note for my neighbor, just in case I didn't.

  I called Mara and told her about my meeting with Edward and what I needed from her now. She said she'd have to discuss it with Ben. Dragging my feet, I gathered up my stuff and hauled myself to the office.

  I paged Quinton between bouts of uninteresting paperwork and frustrating phone calls. He strolled in a little after noon and glanced at the boarded-over windows. "What happened? Somebody try to break in again?"

  "Rough client."

  "Not your guy with the Camaro."

  "No, the one who doesn't show up on video."

  He growled, looking me over. "He roughed you up?"

  "I fell on some stairs."

  He shot a queer glance at me.

  "It's the truth. Look, Quinton, I have a problem a lot worse than a tumble on the steps."

  "What do you need?"

  "I need to get past a security system so I can break something."

  He blinked a few times. "Umm…. that's often illegal."

  "Yeah. But I can't come up with another option. If it doesn't get done—I just have to."

  He frowned at the desperation in my voice. "Must be something pretty bad. Why do you need to do this?"

  I shook my head at myself. "It's nuts."

  "What can be weirder than putting an alarm in a car trunk for a vampire?"

  "How 'bout exorcising a ghost and defusing a paranormal time bomb?"

  He rocked on his heels and nodded. "OK. That's weirder. How did you get mixed up in that? Your client?"

  "The guy who broke my windows. He's a ghost. I didn't know it when I took the job."

  Quinton sat down and waited for the rest.

  I sighed. "He hired me to find a piece of furniture. I found it, but couldn't get it for him. He got rough and I figured out what he was. I didn't want to keep working for him. He made it clear he would do whatever it took to get what he wanted and if I stood in his way, he'd go through me. I can't run from him—he's a ghost—and I can't imagine what he's capable of. I figured the only way to get rid of him was to find out why he really wanted the thing. Now I know. And it's terrible. There is no option but to stop him."

  I closed my eyes a moment, tired, but relieved to have gotten it all out. I wondered if Quinton thought I was crazy yet.

  He mulled it for a moment. "Why does this job fall on you? Why do you have to stop it?"

  I played with a pencil and didn't look at him. "I'm afraid that this thing will hurt me, too. I'm a little bit ghost or monster myself, connected to all of this stuff. Horrible things have happened, and I'm just too much a coward to let this happen, too. This is the only thing I can think of to stop it."

  Quinton was quiet. I continued playing with the pencil and breathing around the stone in my chest.

  Finally he asked, "So what building are we breaking into? Give me all the information you've got and I'll hunt down the rest. By the way, when are we doing this?"

  I glanced up. "Tonight."

  "Tonight? Oh, boy… Miracles 'R' Us. I assume that we're not going to go and ask permission for this."

  "I already offered to buy the thing—the museum won't sell. That's what made my client so angry. If I could think of another way, I'd do it."

  "All right," he sighed. "Let's get to it."

  I sketched out the plan and gave him everything I knew about Madison Forrest House security. Quinton soaked it up without taking notes.

  "OK. I'm going to the library. I'll call you when I've got it figured out."

  I thanked him, but he was already heading out the door.

  Mara called later in the afternoon. With an edge in her voice she told me she would do it, but needed a lift to the museum. She didn't give me time to ask any questions.

  At six, Quinton called.

  "I got it. I can do it. I'll see you there a little after sunset, OK?"

  "OK," I agreed.

  I drove up to Queen Anne to get Mara. The house did not look quite as inviting as normal, the color of the light in the windows an unpleasant green. Albert met me on the walk again. I limped to the door, alarm racing my heart.

  Mara answered my knock. Her face was pinched.

  "Come in," she clipped out. "Ben's upset."

  "Oh?"

  "He doesn't want me to go. Now that he knows the threat is real, he thinks I can't help and will be in harm's way needlessly. Imagine!"

  Ben stepped into the arch from the dining room. "I'm worried about you. What's wrong with that? You're my wife, our son's mother. I don't want anything to happen to you. I think that's reasonable."

  She turned to glare at him. "Now that it's down to theory versus practice, you don't really believe in magic at all. You think it's just feel-good hocus-pocus and dancin naked under the moon with a bunch of March-hare feminists."

  "That's not true!"

  "'Course it's not, but it's what you think—" Somewhere in the house a tiny sound started up.

  I waded in. "Stop this. I need Mara. I know she can do it, because I've seen her do it. It has to be this way."

  "I could come along."

  "No." The sound grew into a distant, hiccupping cry.

  Ben and Mara both looked toward the stairs.

  Mara looked panicked. "Someone needs to stay with Brian. Besides, if something does go wrong—"

  "Then you admit that something could go wrong, that you may not be competent to—"

  Mara's panic turned to ire. "I certainly do not admit I'm not competent! I only meant that no plan is completely foolproof. Don't assume you know better than I what I—"

  Ben cut her off. "It's too dangerous! It's irresponsible and unsafe and—well, it's destruction of private property! It's just not right! Harper," he added, turning to me, "you know this isn't right."

  I cocked my head at him and leaned against the doorframe. "What is right? Letting the ghost do whatever he wants with it? Allowing everyone who treads in t
he Grey to be fried like an egg when it blows up? If you have a better plan, I'd be glad to hear it, because frankly this one stinks, but it's all I've got."

  Brian was at full wail now. Ben stared at me. Mara gaped at me, her mouth forming a little O.

  Ben blinked. His face crumpled and he turned toward the stairs. "Brian needs me. And Harper needs you, Mara. She's right. She's right. You'd better go." He stopped on the first landing and glared back at us. "But you had better come back. Brian and I need you, too."

  Mara began crying, flew up the steps, and threw herself into her husband's arms. "I love you. I will be very, very careful, I promise. Thank you, love."

  Ben looked on the verge of tears himself, his head hanging over her shoulder a moment before he turned to give his wife a kiss.

  "I know you'll be careful, sweetheart. I know it. You'll be fine," he added, letting her go. "You two had better get going. It's going to be dark soon." He turned and marched up the stairs.

  Mara plodded to me, reaching for her purse by the door as we went out and swiping at her eyes. Albert blinked owl-like at us from the porch, but made no move to come along.

  Dejected, Mara sat in the front seat. "I wish I could have Ben with me… though you look like you'll need more help than I. You look one step from dead."

  "I think I felt better when I was."

  I drove out to the museum and told her the plan. Mara nodded. I felt miserable. Nothing within or without didn't ache with bruises or a wearying, bone-deep illness, and everything I saw was aglimmer with streaks of color and coils of Grey.

  I did not park in the same lot as on the previous visits, but several blocks away and around a couple of corners. We got out and walked to the museum.

  Clouds obscured the moon, but that wasn't the only source of darkness. The Grey around the building had thickened into an artificial midnight, a twist of realities from which light seemed to flee. Quinton had been leaning against a tree by the fence line and now ambled toward us, emerging from the coil of darkness like a ship from fog. I did not introduce my companions to each other. They didn't mind.

  "Hi," Quinton greeted us. "I've already got stuff in place and I can control what the cameras see, so the security guys shouldn't be alerted. The perimeter alarm is off at the side door. It's not locked. Don't touch any exterior doors or windows and don't make too much noise." He began to lead us up the darkened edge of the drive, in cover of shadowing trees and shrubs.