“Okay, that’s definitely an ‘over here’ problem. But if it’s the wraiths carrying out the plan, this ritual with the harp should solve it.”
Caryl paused for a moment, her eyes unfocused in thought. “I was about to argue that the wraiths cannot be her only conspirators, but in truth, the baffling results of our ongoing investigation suddenly make sense if they are.”
“What’s so baffling?”
“We quickly put together that if Vivian intended to commit terrorist acts on a global scale without leaving the Southern California perimeter, she would need to mobilize her only international network: the employees of Cera Pest Control. But Vivian seemed withdrawn from the company in recent years, giving orders largely through her chief operating officer. We assumed he had to be in on her plan, passing along instructions to the various branches, but I rifled his mind a bit, and he proved shockingly and disappointingly ignorant of the entire affair. There were no signs of alterations to his memory.”
I leaned away from Caryl pointedly. “Rifled his mind?”
Caryl ignored me. “Vivian wouldn’t need to directly order employees if she could send wraiths to possess whomever she needed, but I’m still unclear on the mechanics. It seems from your story that wraiths cannot move about on their own on Earth unless they take over a human body.”
“Right. They’re stranded flopping fish, like the king said, and I guess people are fishbowls on legs.”
“But possession can apparently take place only under very specific circumstances.”
I leaned back in toward Caryl, tense. “How long has Vivian been working on this? And how long has she owned that company?”
Caryl was silent for a long moment, and she must have been thinking what I was thinking, only without the inconvenience of horror. The idea that Vivian might have been methodically planning this for decades, and that we only stumbled onto it at the eleventh hour because she took the wrong person’s sister prisoner . . . If she’d messed with anyone but Claybriar, no one would have investigated. The first we’d have heard of her plan would have been when estates started dropping off the map—with their owners inside them.
“I don’t like this,” I said. “If she managed to slip that much by us for that long, how much are we still missing? I thought I was holding a rope, and now it looks like a tiger’s tail.”
“We cannot let our dismay get in the way of—”
“Wait.” I stopped her with a hand. “Let’s get back to your reading the COO’s mind for a second.”
“You oversimplify. In rare cases, a combination of suggestion and—”
“Not looking for a tutorial here. I’m asking, is he local?”
“Ah. Yes, Cera’s international headquarters are in Santa Monica, since Vivian has never been permitted to leave the Southern California perimeter. A few months ago I cloaked myself and entered the building in an attempt to investigate, but sadly I could not break into any locked doors without destroying them in a way that would have revealed our interference. I was reduced to weeks’ worth of unimaginably dull eavesdropping before deciding that Cera was a false lead after all.”
“But Cera has to be the key,” I said. “If we can find some hard evidence there of what Vivian’s minions are up to, it might prove I’m telling the truth and shed enough doubt on your guilt that we could get you out of here.”
Caryl steepled her gloved fingers and stared at them vacantly. “If only I had found a way into Vivian’s files while I was there.”
“I’d try and get in there for you, but I’m sure someone else has moved into her office by now.”
“Possibly not. She still has not officially been declared dead.”
“Seriously? You guys did fine coming up with fake stories about Teo and Gloria.”
“We had their bodies. Not only are piles of dust difficult to interrogate, but they make accident-staging problematic.”
I blew hair out of my eyes. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?”
“But in Vivian’s office, there must still be correspondence and records in hard copy. Vivian was less technophobic than most fey, but I can virtually guarantee that since she died unexpectedly there will be an interesting paper trail. Unfortunately, I have no access.”
“I’ll find a way,” I said. “I’ve always had a gift for getting in where I don’t belong.”
• • •
Since Winterglass had arrived through Gate LA4, Arcadia Project protocol dictated that he had to depart through the same Gate. This meant that I was in the perfect place to intercept him on his way out on Sunday morning. Alvin dropped Winterglass and Claybriar off for their departure but didn’t stay himself; he was off to the summit in London, along with every other national head in the Arcadia Project, apparently.
Winterglass was not pleased about being detained by the likes of me; I could see the contempt in every line of his beautiful face as he loomed over me in the living room. Claybriar wasn’t around to defend me; he was busy in the kitchen hunting apples.
“Just hear me out,” I said to Winterglass. “If your memory’s being tampered with, you’d want to know, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“You remember Claybriar pushing me. But you don’t remember what we were talking about before that?”
“Do you?”
“Not photographically, but I know we were trying to get the wraith to tell us Vivian’s plan, and it wouldn’t. You said you couldn’t force it to speak. Remember that?”
“You may be recalling a conversation you had with someone else,” he said. I thought I detected the faintest uncertainty in his tone.
“The Bone Harp,” I said. “That’s the relic they use in the drawing ritual.”
This time he looked decidedly disconcerted. “Where did you hear this?”
“You told me. My Echo was possessed and I was freaking out and you told me so I’d understand that he would be fine.”
“I have no memory of that,” he said. He stood still for a moment, his expression blank, as though he were searching inward. Then his eyes widened. “I felt something. Faintly, for a moment. Something in my mind . . . resisted me.”
“That’s your wraith.”
“Why would I do that? Why would I allow a hostile presence inside my mind?”
“It . . . was kind of an accident at first.” I didn’t elaborate. “You let it stay because it’s one of your subjects. It can’t command you or cause you harm. Unfortunately, now it’s loopholing its way through your memories.”
Winterglass began to look genuinely alarmed, his eyes still unfocused, attention turned inward. “Sidhe must use spellwork to affect memory. I see none here. But if this ‘wraith’ is, as you told Alvin, a form of energy in itself, and if it has assimilated itself into my thoughts . . .” He clenched his hands into fists. “I must find a way to perceive its presence more securely.”
“It knows you need to do that, so it won’t let you. There’s another wraith here in the house that hasn’t seen your facade yet, might not recognize you as king. If I could trick it into showing itself in front of you, would that let you command it?”
“If it commits any action, I should be able to address the actor.”
“Then follow me. I have the beginnings of an idea.”
Tjuan was in the kitchen with Claybriar. They weren’t talking; Tjuan was leaning his elbows on the kitchen island and staring at half a piece of toast, and Claybriar was munching an apple as though any minute someone might take it away.
“Mr. Morozov, this is Tjuan,” I said. “He’s the one with the unwanted passenger.”
“And,” said Tjuan, “it’s trying to talk me into some horrible shit right now. The sooner we can end this, the better.”
“It wants to kill me, right?” I said, backing up a step. “Because it was there when I killed Vivian. It watched her die, heard her screaming.”
“You’re making it worse,” said Tjuan irritably. “Settle down; it can’t make me do a
nything. Got plenty of practice ignoring voices.”
One of the king’s brows shot toward his hairline. “You have been possessed before?”
“No,” said Tjuan. “Or—” A strange look came over his face. “Actually, I don’t know.”
“Whatever was wrong with Tjuan,” I said, “he recovered. Electroconvulsive therapy. Would that get rid of a wraith?”
Winterglass looked at the same time intrigued and troubled. “In theory. Arcane energy is Arcadia’s analog to your electromagnetic spectrum. The two are incompatible in a similar way to iron and norium.”
Tjuan frowned. “If you’re suggesting that I stick my finger in a light socket I’m just going to go ahead and walk out of here.”
“No, no,” I said. “I— Tjuan, I need you to trust me for a minute.”
He looked at me flatly.
“I know. I know trust isn’t really your thing. But I’m the one who found out what’s wrong with you, right? Now I need you to . . . relax your control. Let the wraith take over. I need to talk to it directly.”
Tjuan looked wild-eyed for a moment, backing toward the sink. The counter’s edge stopped him; he flexed his hands, then curled them into fists.
“Did I not just say it wants to kill you? It does not want to talk.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m immune to somatic spells.”
“Yeah, that’s why it wants me to kill you.”
“I won’t force you to do this, Tjuan,” I said. “But I need you to trust me when I say I’ll be fine. Think back. How many times have I steered us wrong?”
Tjuan considered this for a moment, scratching anxiously at one hand with the other. He glanced at Claybriar, who had begun to edge closer to me, protectively.
“Are the three of you prepared to take me down?” Tjuan said, his voice tight. “I am stronger than I look.”
“So am I,” I said. “I promise, that thing can’t take me. I killed Vivian, remember? What’s a wraith, to me? I need you to trust me, Tjuan. Just let go. Let me talk to it.”
“If you’re sure,” said Tjuan. “Just don’t—hmm.” He stopped, clearing his throat, looking up at the ceiling. His face went through a few contortions; then he said quietly, “Whatever it says, just know it’s not me. It is not me.”
“Of course it isn’t, Tjuan.” I tried not to show my sudden surge of sympathy, because I knew he’d take it for pity. “You’re an asshole, but you’re no murderer.”
He did not seem to appreciate my humor. “This is my worst nightmare,” he said.
“At least you’ve got your clothes on, and all your teeth.” This time he smiled faintly, but I could tell it was an act of charity rather than amusement.
“You keep saying it’ll be all right,” he said. “When it comes down to it, somehow I believe you. So . . . all right.” No sooner had he spoken than he slumped so dramatically that I thought he was going to collapse to the Spanish-tiled floor.
Just as Claybriar moved to help, Tjuan straightened, eyes hungry. He smiled in a way that looked wrong on him, and, with astonishing quickness, he vaulted straight over the kitchen island toward me.
16
I let out a squeak and stumbled backward even as Claybriar and Winterglass moved with unexpected synchronicity to seize Tjuan. Their combined strength was barely enough to keep him from struggling free.
“Be still, wraith!” Winterglass barked at Tjuan, and, like magic (because it was), Tjuan stopped struggling. “Cast no spells, alter no memories, nor move that body’s limbs until I give you leave to do so.”
“Just get it out of him!” I snapped. Winterglass turned to fix me with a glare that could have sent a tank full of fish belly up.
Claybriar cleared his throat. “Much as I hate to take Mr. Morozov’s side,” he said, “you might want to go easy on the whole ordering-kings-around thing.”
“If he can give that invisible son of a bitch orders,” I said, “why is he still leaving it inside him?”
“I have questions,” said Winterglass.
“Because that went so well last time? Oh, right, you don’t remember.”
“You,” said Winterglass to Tjuan. “Wraith-creature who possesses this body. Did you cause the death of a human woman in this house?”
“That would make things nice and tidy, wouldn’t it?” That smile again, so wrong on Tjuan’s face. The smile—and the evasion—reminded me of someone.
“Vivian?” I half whispered. “Is that you, somehow?”
“No.” Its smile widened. “But I’ve been inside her.”
“Gross!”
“And enlightening,” said Winterglass coolly. “This supports the part of your story regarding their collaboration.”
“Of course it does,” I said irritably. “I didn’t make any of that up.” I turned back to Tjuan, trying to keep my temper. “Look, ghostie. If you ever want to see Arcadia again, start talking. Did you kill—”
I paused, remembering how important wording was when asking questions of the fey. Vivian had promised not to hurt anyone, but it had been the bottom of the well that hurt Gloria. Vivian had only severed the rope.
“Did you cast a spell that caused harm to Tamika Durand?”
“Nope.” Big smile.
I stood there for a moment, wondering what I’d said wrong, how the thing was tricking me. “Did you do anything that may have contributed to Tamika’s death?”
“Why, yes I did.”
I ground my teeth. “What did you do that may have contributed to Tamika’s death?”
“My friend advises me not to tell you.”
“What, you’ve lawyered up now? Who’s your ‘friend’? Tjuan?”
“No, the one you brought with you.”
“The one— You mean the wraith? The one in Winterglass? You can talk to each other?”
“Of course.”
Well, shit. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d be enabling the two to cooperate. I was even less enthusiastic about this interrogation now that I knew I could only hear half the conversation.
“I need to know exactly what happened to Tamika,” I said. “Will you tell us the details if one of these fey promises to return you to Arcadia afterward?”
“Nope.” Biggest smile yet.
I had the sudden, counterproductive urge to punch Tjuan in the gut. I took a deep breath, picturing the snowy little cabin in the woods that Dr. Davis and I had been mentally decorating just for these occasions.
“Okay then,” I said. “I guess we’ll just row you out to the middle of the ocean somewhere, and His Majesty will order you to vacate that body you’ve borrowed. Do wraiths float or sink?”
The wraith’s horror showed on Tjuan’s face, but only for a moment.
I had a sudden razor-sharp memory of Teo saying, I would have said there was no one in the world who would be worse at Good Cop than me.
“No,” the wraith said once it had found its calm. It was hard to tell if it was bluffing; it had hijacked someone with a spectacular poker face. “You can’t get me to turn. Torture me however you like; you’ve only got so long to do it, and who am I to shrink from that when Vivian was willing to lay down her life for the cause?”
“I wouldn’t say she was willing,” I muttered, making Tjuan’s face contort with the wraith’s frustrated urge to throttle me. “Why would we only have ‘so long’ to torture you?”
It closed Tjuan’s mouth firmly and pointedly.
“The drawing ritual,” said Winterglass. “I believe it has just confirmed that the wraiths will be recalled at the autumn ritual.”
“How many of you are there?” I asked the wraith.
“I’m sure you’d love to know.”
“Not that I really need your help,” I said, taking care to sound as smug as possible, “because I can figure it out on my own. Three people died that night, but your friend only mentioned two wraiths. One got pulled over when Teo died, and one when Vivian died. That means there’s one more somewhere.”
&nb
sp; “Wrong,” said the wraith acidly.
“Make as many vague denials as you want,” I said. “I know how you bastards’ half-truths operate, and I know I’m right, and the king here is going to give you a hell of a dunking in the Pacific until you tell us where that third one is.”
The wraith hesitated for a moment. I suspected it was conferring with its friend. “I’ll tell you where your logic breaks down,” it finally said, “if you promise both of us that you won’t strand us here. That you’ll either give us bodies or take us back to Arcadia right away.”
I sighed and turned to Winterglass. “Is it worth making a deal with this asshole?”
“Any information is better than none,” he said, “and returning these creatures to Arcadia ahead of schedule is far from the worst outcome. Wraith, here is the agreement I propose: explain this human’s mistake to her satisfaction, and I will ensure you return to Arcadia within the week.”
Tjuan grimaced. “A week?”
“At the latest. As soon as it would not disrupt my own mission,” said Winterglass. “That is the best I can offer. Accept or refuse.”
“I accept,” growled the wraith, then heaved a huge sigh. “The woman who fell down the well? Her death was fast. She didn’t suffer enough to bring a wraith across, even though a whole crowd of them were just on the other side waiting for Vivian’s orders. My friend and I”—here it gestured to Winterglass—“are the only two wraiths who got stranded in your world by the deaths that night.”
Winterglass frowned. “Your specificity implies that you are leaving out important information.”
“I’ve answered the question I said I would answer. Now you must honor your promise.”
“Forget it, Jake,” I said to Winterglass. “It’s wraith-town. I wasn’t expecting it would give us anything too useful. But now you have proof that these things exist and that they had something to do with Tamika. Before we do anything else, would you mind telling any and all wraiths in this room not to fuck with anyone’s memory again?”
“I have already asked this of Tjuan’s passenger, but I still have no grasp on the one inside me. I fully believe that it is here, but cannot sense its presence in any way that allows me to address it.”
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