“I thought you were a myth,” Victor murmured, keeping his head forward to make it look a little less like he was shadowing me. “To hear Boaz tell it, you’re the ideal to which all other women should aspire. And yes, he used those words. Must be the wearing-pajamas-in-public thing. I can see how that would appeal.”
“Yeah.” Not really feeling it, I put away my phone. “That must be it.”
Picking up on my weird mood, he tucked away the personal questions. “Where are we headed?”
“Professor Reardon’s office.” I checked with Cletus. “Linus is still there, right?”
The wraith bobbed in answer.
“Who are you talking to?” Victor lowered one hand to the slight bulge next to his hip. “You put your phone away.”
Leaning forward, I examined his cap. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”
“Answer the question.”
“Linus assigned a wraith to me. They share a bond, so I was double-checking his location.”
“It’s damn creepy knowing those things are flying around and not being able to see them.”
“Boaz can.” Cletus was one of the few entities most necromancers could see without aid.
“I’m the next best thing to human. Boaz doesn’t have much juice, but he’s got more than most of us. That’s why he gets all the fun jobs.”
Until this exact moment, I’d had no idea Boaz had any juice. Amelie would have burst a blood vessel trying to manifest if she had any hope of there being real power in their bloodline. Unless…
Maybe that explained her obsession with the haves and have nots of magic, and Ambrose too.
Carefully, I tiptoed around what I wanted to know. “How long have you known him?”
“Eight months, more or less.”
How could a recruit who met Boaz eight months ago know more about him than me?
“Seems to me he’s been getting more and more fun jobs lately.” I poured a dollop of pouty girlfriend in the mix. “I never see him these days. He’s always off on a mission.”
“That’s messed up if they won’t let you guys spend time together.”
“He visits when he’s able.”
“Still, he’s stationed in Savannah. Why force him to stay in the barracks when he could live at home?”
I tripped over my own two feet and almost went down, would have if Cletus hadn’t caught me in his arms. The fact a wraith could support my weight ought to worry me more than it did, considering his teeth and claws should be his only substantial features, but I had gone numb.
Boaz was stationed in Savannah. Savannah. How was that possible?
That would explain…a lot, actually.
The container ship horn I overheard on our earlier call had been exactly that. He must have been standing near River Street, maybe haunting the Cora Ann for old time’s sake, while we talked.
All the brownie points I had awarded him for showing up when I needed him most tasted like ash. The trips home I imagined him making on a plane from all over the country had been made on foot or in a cab. How could that be? Why would he lie? How long had he been hiding the truth?
Stumbling across him while hunting the dybbuk was one thing. Learning the Society had kept him local? That he hadn’t told me? It stung. All of a sudden, the calls to Amelie made more sense. She knew. She had to have known. And she hadn’t said a word. He must have pulled strings to stay close to her. Fine. Okay. Boaz had a protective streak a mile wide. But why hide it and leave me the odd woman out?
As much as I wanted to blame a vow of silence, like the one the Grande Dame had extracted from Linus, if Boaz had told Amelie—even if she figured it out on her own—they had colluded to keep his whereabouts from me.
Desperate to distance myself from his truths, I tried outpacing him. “I can take it from here.”
“Not happening.” Victor blocked the path with his can. “My orders are to pass you off directly to Scion Lawson.”
The title felt odd considering everyone on campus called him Professor Lawson.
Another face, another title, another facet to a man who might as well have been a twenty-sided die.
“That would be me,” a grim voice announced behind us.
Sweet relief spiked my bloodstream as I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Linus standing there.
For the first time in our reacquaintance, he was the one who initiated a hug. The cold of his body pressed into mine gave me a surface layer of numb to go along with the deadened sensation spreading through my chest. His hands trembled on my back, and his hold was awkward, like he had no idea how to comfort someone. Or maybe, since he was the one wrapping me up tight, he had no idea how to take comfort either.
“Thank Hecate you’re all right,” he breathed against my ear before tucking his face in the damp curve of my neck. His heart raged, a pounding drum trapped between us, as if he had run the whole way. “The wards I placed on the door to keep Reardon out of his office sealed the room behind us.” He withdrew, a few inches at least. “There was no cell reception. With the building warded against wraiths, I didn’t know you were in danger until we concluded our latest experiment, and I stepped out to check in with Cletus.”
“He saved the day.” I forced out the words. “He almost gave me a heart attack by pulling me out the window, but mostly he was golden.” I had to give credit where it was due. “Hood kept the intruder busy while I escaped. I didn’t get close enough to tell if I was being attacked by a vampire, but that’s a safe assumption. Hood also gave me arrhythmia, but it’s all good.” I smoothed trembling hands down my sides. “I’m here in one piece. That’s what counts.”
“Thank you for escorting her.” He addressed Victor for the first time. “I’m in your debt.”
“There’s no debt, sir.” Victor puffed out his chest. “This is what we do.”
The urge to pull off his cap and ruffle his hair almost overwhelmed me. He wasn’t that much younger than me, but goddess, I felt old where it counted. His youthful optimism, his dedication to his job, made me wish the sentinels had a dozen more just like him. Maybe then my time in Atramentous wouldn’t be kept wedged behind a wall to protect me from remembering all the ways bored sentinels entertained themselves with people society, and the Society, had forgotten.
Wheels squeaking behind him, Victor started rolling away, donning his ancient-janitor persona.
“Is Meiko with Reardon?” I rubbed the base of my neck. “Or did you confine her to your office?”
“I couldn’t find her. I had to leave and hope for the best.” His sheepish admission colored his pale cheeks. “I wouldn’t worry about her, though. She’s smart enough to have found a safe place to hide until the lights come back on.”
“Good.” I gusted out a sigh. “We’ll never be BFFs, but I don’t want her to get hurt.”
I had enough blood on my hands without dipping them in hers.
“I’m taking you home.” Linus hefted a file. “I’ve got enough information to get us started.”
“Home?” I flinched away from him.
“To Savannah,” he clarified. “To Woolly.”
Relief melted my bones, and I closed the gap between us, allowing my head to fall against his chest. Holding it up on my own wasn’t happening. I was too exhausted. “That’s the best offer I’ve heard all weekend.”
The door swung open behind us, and Reardon burst onto the lawn with a manic energy about him.
“Linus,” he pleaded, clearly picking up on an earlier conversation. “See reason. We can continue the project here. We have the facilities and the library at our disposal. There’s no reason to take half an answer back with you.” He noticed me and wet his lips. “The sample you brought me—”
“No.” Tentatively, he stroked the back of my head, his fingers tangling in the strands of hair. “There’s nothing more to be learned in twenty-four hours, and I have obligations in Savannah I can’t neglect.”
“You mean Grier,” he surmised. “That�
��s what’s keeping you there.”
“The Grande Dame herself issued my orders.” The use of her official title told me Reardon was digging his hole deeper, that Linus had run out of patience. “I have no choice but to obey.”
Though the tender way he cradled me made me wonder if maybe he didn’t hate that he had been called back.
“Your mother would extend your leash for another week surely.” Reardon cut his eyes to me, to how I leaned on Linus’s strength, and that was enough to have me straightening. “Your charge is here. What harm can come to her by your side?”
“Multiple attempts have been made on Grier’s life,” Linus murmured, frowning at the distance I put between us. “There are those who oppose the Grande Dame’s ruling, those who believe Grier is guilty of the crime of which she was convicted. It’s best if I get her home where she is safest.”
The misdirection wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the truth as it applied to this situation.
Fingers a gentle cage around my elbow, he guided me away from the eager professor.
“I thought you trusted Reardon.” That’s how he’d justified bringing me with him.
“I do.” He cut me a look. “Within reason.” He bypassed the parking lot and led me through a small garden. “He hasn’t discovered that the magical remnants in the blood he finds so fascinating is yours, or he would have pressed harder. As it is, he’s salivating for another sample to run more tests.”
“A salivating vampire does not sound good.” I hoped he meant metaphorically, but it was hard to say given Reardon’s behavior.
“I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen his control slip. His lapse around you at the first sign of violence makes me wonder if made vampires are affected by your presence to some degree.”
“I really, really hope not. I’ve got ninety-nine vampire problems, and I don’t want him to be one.”
“He can’t leave the campus.” Linus kept going, almost dragging me into a massive building filled with trophies and awards that spit us out on a sidewalk leading deeper into the city. “You’re protected beyond the wards.”
The farther we walked, the less familiar the landmarks. “Where are we going?”
“We need a safe place to wait while I arrange for transportation.” He slowed when he noticed I was out of breath. “I sent Tony home. It’s too dangerous for him to stay here. Having him pick us up again might cost him his life.”
Proving I was thinking along the same lines, I admitted, “That’s why I took a cab.”
Approval warmed his eyes. “How did that go?”
“I’ve had more fun, but I managed. The pants-wetting terror helped.”
The next corner we rounded announced our destination. On the lowest floor of a high rise, a sprawling shop with flickering neon signs announced The Mad Tatter, We’re All Inked Here. He shoved into the shop, bell jangling over our heads, and bypassed the counter. The bored girl perched on a stool behind it kept reading her magazine as he led me to a cluttered office tucked against the far wall.
The low thrum of necromantic magic brushed against my skin, too powerful for the practitioners at their stations. Residual maybe? Magic was in the blood, and while Clorox might bleach away any crimson stains, power was harder to erase. “We’re here to meet Mary Alice?”
“Yes.” He tapped a finger on the particleboard desktop. “She’s around here. Somewhere. She practically lives here.”
“This is an expensive corner to set up shop,” I observed, curious about this mentor of his. “She must be very good at what she does.”
“Oh, she is, just not tattooing. She can’t draw a stick figure, but Mitch—her husband—was a master.” A wry twist bent his lips. “Mary Alice is an information broker. The shop is her cover.”
“Tatter is some kind of black market hub?” And the potentate of Atlanta was elbows deep in its secrets.
“Mary Alice is High Society without a drop of magic in her. She married into the Low Society, but she has valuable connections through her family. Without magic, she had to carve out her own place in the world. Mitch was happy to help. He saw it as a team effort. He kept their noses clean enough for anyone who looked, but the real action was always in the back room.” He nudged me toward a chair opposite the battered desk. “I went to her for information once, months after I moved to the city, but she refused to sell to me. I was High Society, and the law, and she wanted to protect her sources. I kept going back until Mitch accused me of scaring off his clients. He joked that I might as well work for him since I spent so much time there.” He smiled. “I took him up on the offer.”
“I wondered what drew you to tattooing.” I should have known that his reasons would be multilayered.
“You could have asked,” he pointed out. “I can’t tell you everything, my position won’t allow it, but I could have told you that.”
Shame, that was shame curling through me for not being more interested in his life, his past. Friends asked questions, and they paid attention to the answers. So far, I had done neither.
“I’m asking now. You started an internship to get street cred and make your own contacts. Smart.” According to TV, cops brokered with snitches all the time. For a man with deep pockets like Linus, I could see the information trade being lucrative. “But you liked it, or you saw its potential applications, and you stayed on to claim a chair.”
“No,” he corrected me. “I loved it from the moment I put needle to skin.”
“Is that why you covered yourself in art? Or was it camouflage?”
“I’m one of the few necromancers dabbling in permanent sigils anchored on the body. Mitch introduced me to a field where I can break new ground with each discovery, and that’s exhilarating.” His cheeks flushed as he warmed to his topic. “Every sigil on my body is designed for a purpose. I try to make them beautiful, to create art, but it’s secondary to my goal.”
The brutal planes of his stomach, all lean muscle and ink, flashed in my mind before I could slam shut whatever mental vault stored such memories. My curious fingers had traced those smoky whorls, those shaded loops, and his cool skin had pebbled beneath them.
“You succeeded on all counts,” I assured him, blinking clear of those images.
“Wait here.” He reached for the door. “I need to find Mary Alice.”
“Now that you’ve parked me, I’m not moving.” Feet, calves, knees, and thighs all burned. “I’m all out of gas.”
Linus paused on the threshold, one foot in the shop, but rocked back inside the room with me.
“I’ll be fine,” I promised. “I’ll scream bloody murder if I need you.”
With a tight nod, he strolled out at a clipped pace, rounded a corner, and vanished from sight.
Through the open door, I glimpsed yet another of his facets, this one the least expected of all.
The gleaming black-and-white-checkerboard pattern to the linoleum floor reminded me of a retro diner until I spotted the lobby, where leather couches and chairs had been upholstered to resemble giant white-capped mushrooms with red spots. The toadstool footstool was my favorite piece.
Artists’ stations lined two walls opposite one another, each with segmented chairs that reclined. They called to mind dentists’ offices and popped in the same bright red. The few clients lounged on those, a mix of college-aged kids and seasoned ink collectors, necromancers and humans. The walls behind each station depicted a different scene from Alice in Wonderland. Some drawn, some painted, some color, some black and gray. All lovely and original pieces of art.
Despite the ache in my limbs, I was drawn to one of the empty stations and the colorful mural behind the chair.
A garden scene spilled over this section of wall, stylized, yes, but as familiar as the back of my hand. I had played in that garden throughout my childhood. And peering around an arbor wreathed in climbing roses, a young girl with wide eyes and a sharp chin watched as a white rabbit thumped his hind leg on the grass.
The girl…w
as me. Dressed as Alice. At about six or seven years old. The likeness was stunning.
Forcing my hand to lower before I touched the paint, I examined the rest of the space.
A drafting table of some kind filled a nook obscured by my previous angle. The surface was backlit and glowed softly, illuminating the face of a teenager as he doodled absently, his head bobbing along with the music pumping into his ears through an electric-blue headset. The cord was in his mouth, and he was rolling it between his lips. When he paused to trade out for a new paper, a huge smile spread at whatever he saw. He spat out the cord, tossed the headset, and leapt to his feet.
Linus approached from a different direction than when I last saw him, and the teen trotted over, all gangly limbs and enthusiasm. He must be the Oslo to the Mary Alice he was hunting.
Mary Alice.
Clearly someone had a sense of humor.
This shop must be her own private wonderland. Well, that or a clever marketing ploy.
Oslo initiated a complicated handshake that I could never reproduce but Linus kept up with just fine. Having passed some test, the boy leaned in. “Did you bring them?”
“I did.” Linus shoved his hands in his pockets. “I left them at my place, though. I’ll have a courier deliver them Monday.”
“Why did you come if you didn’t bring the drawings?” The teen laughed awkwardly. “Let me try that again—I’m glad you’re here, but why the visit?” He blasted out a sigh. “You know what I mean. I fail at social interactions. Don’t make me keep going. It’s only going to get worse from here.”
“Official business,” he said smoothly. “I need to speak to Mary Alice, if she’s around.”
“She stepped out back for a smoke.” He mimed taking a drag. “It’s going to kill her one day. Statistically speaking.”
How to Break an Undead Heart (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy Book 3) Page 21