by Jen Kirchner
I was too afraid to answer. My heart was pounding.
I ran down to the lab and opened the panic room door.
The room was silent. I stepped inside and pulled out the knife drawer. I opened the cutlery box. Luucas stepped into the room and looked at me curiously.
I braced myself and asked, “Did Ruairí O’Bryne call me last night?”
Luucas’s body tensed. He touched my wrist so he could hear the knives’ chorused response.
Yes!
“Oh no.” I closed my eyes. “I thought it was a dream.”
Luucas leaned over the box of knives. “When was this? What did he say? Tell me everything.”
He said they kissed!
Luucas frowned. “Who? Kari and Ruairí?”
No, dummy. Kari and Mikelis.
Gross.
Kari made fun of Ruairí for hanging out in the bushes.
Ha! Ha! That was hilarious! She’s totally going to die!
Luucas rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “I think we need to stay focused on the important part here. What did Ruairí say?”
He stalks Mikelis every Saturday night!
Luucas tensed and squeezed my wrist. I yelped and tried wrenching myself out of his grip.
“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing me. “I didn’t mean to do that, I just…” He turned and slammed a fist against one of the metal drawers, making a little dent. The sound was like canon fire. “Do you know what this means?”
I rubbed my bruised wrist. “Ruairí O’Bryne is crazy?”
“He’s been living right under my nose for years!”
I wonder how he got your number.
I glanced at Rambo, then back at Luucas. I repeated the question.
“You’re a celebrity. He probably got it from a fan site.”
“I doubt it.” I scratched the side of my head. “Did you give my number to anyone before you left the house?”
“Of course. I made some phone calls to my conservators to let them know where they could reach me. I unplugged your answering machine so they wouldn’t hear your name.”
I lifted an eyebrow. He saw the look on my face and held up a single, angry finger. The apples of his cheeks darkened to a light gray.
“No way. My conservators would never associate with Ruairí O’Bryne.”
I shrugged. “If you say so. I’m going to go call my parents.”
“Good idea.”
I closed the knife box and shut the drawer. “Not here. I need to do it alone.”
“You want me to step out for a few minutes? I can hang out in the backyard.”
I walked out of the panic room and said, “No, I’ll go outside. I need coffee anyway.”
Luucas was back to shouting. “There’s no way in hell you’re going outside without your bracelet and supervision.”
“I’ll be gone twenty minutes,” I said. “The coffee shop is right down the street. I'll even grab you something while I’m out.”
Luucas stepped out of the panic room and I shut the door. As I walked into the hallway, he stared at me hard. “As soon as you get into your car, put the bracelet on. Don’t wait until you get out into the street. Put it on before you leave the garage. Tell Diaco what happened, get your coffee, and come straight back here. Do they have a drive-through? Use it. Don’t get out of the car.”
“I’m going,” I said, walking down the hall.
“Put your bracelet on as soon as you get into the car,” he shouted at me. “If you’re not back within twenty minutes, I’m coming after you!”
SEVENTEEN
I didn’t put on my bracelet. I had experienced Dad’s panic attacks in my head before, and they always gave me headaches. My plan was to tell him on the phone first. Just to be safe, I made the bracelet readily available by stashing it in the side pocket of my purse.
It was a beautiful morning in Rochester. The air felt a little crisp, but the sun shone in a clear sky. I wasn’t the only person out enjoying the day; half the city seemed out for a Sunday drive. Cars jammed together on the roads and traffic crawled. Two blocks from the coffee shop, I hit a busy intersection and had to wait through two rounds of the light. Just as I pulled up to the intersection, the light turned yellow and, rather than rushing through, I played it safe and stopped. I was going to be here for a while and decided it was a fine time to call.
I turned on the speaker. When Dad answered, he sounded horrible.
“Good morning, Eliana.”
“I’d say sorry to wake you, but it sounds like you still haven’t slept.”
“No. I have been involved in research since our last discussion.”
“About the Styx? How’s that coming along?”
“Hmm,” he intoned, the immortal equivalent of a sigh. “Not fruitfully. What you described seems to be derived from black magic. Very old.”
“Not voodoo?” I asked.
“An older vein of voodoo. Even worse.”
“I heard one of the second-channel spells stopped working.”
“Yes.”
“At the same time as the last surge?”
“You’ve been speaking with your grandfather.”
“Yeah,” I said. “In fact, we need to talk, Dad. Something’s happened.”
Worry filled his voice. “Are you all right? I saw your interview. You looked very upset with that actor.” His worry increased to intense levels of panic. “He was incredibly inappropriate. Did he…?”
“No,” I assured him. “It’s not about Cody Springer. It’s worse, actually. It’s—”
Before I could tell him, multiple car horns blared, causing my head to snap up. My light had turned green, but the honking wasn't for me. A black Acura had rushed through the intersection as the light changed and nearly caused an accident. The Acura's driver rolled down the window and stuck her fist out with middle finger extended high, shouted a few offensive words at the other cars, and took off. I couldn't believe my luck.
“Veronica!” I shouted.
“What?”
“Luucas’s ex-girlfriend! Dad, I'm sorry. I’ll have to call you back.”
I flipped my left turn signal, charged the car ahead, and nearly caused an accident, narrowly missing the oncoming traffic. Horns blared again, this time for me. I hit the gas. My hybrid waffled for a split second, then charged ahead.
Dad’s tone wavered. His surprise and anxiety were clear. “How do you know Luucas Mikkelsen?”
“Mom sent me to get him at the grocery store, and now we’re kind of living together. Grandpa’s orders.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I have to follow her! I promise I'll call you right back!”
“Eliana, do not hang up this phone!”
I hung up and called Luucas. The phone rang twice, then made a clicking noise, signifying that Luucas was on the other line with someone. He clicked over to me.
“Hello?”
“Luucas!” I shouted. “I'm tailing Veronica!”
“Did she see you?”
Luucas was obviously a professional at this because he sounded very calm. I, on the other hand, had enough adrenaline coursing through me for the both of us.
“No, I'm two cars behind on Five Mile Line. I think she's heading for the highway!”
“Damn it. If I had a cell phone I would be right there.” He paused, probably thinking up an alternate strategy. “Stay with her. As soon as you know where she's headed, I'll meet you.”
I was caught up in the moment. “What if she needs to be apprehended?”
“Then you won't be doing it. Stay in the car,” he ordered. “Hang on a second.” The phone made a clicking noise as he switched to his other call.
As I suspected, Veronica turned onto the highway—and without using her turn signal. She immediately swerved into the middle lane, again without signaling. I hate people who don’t use turn signals. It’s discourteous to other drivers.
The phone clicked back over.
“Kari?” I heard th
e suctioning pop of the dryer door being opened. “Are you still following her?”
“Yeah, she's heading downtown.”
“Mikelis is going to call you from his cell and meet you so you're not alone. Wait for him. As soon as you stop, call me at the house so I know where to go.” He groaned and added, “I really need a new cell phone. Do you think Pasha can get me one?”
We hung up. Traffic started to thin out, so I dropped back and let a blue sedan get in front of me. Veronica swerved into the right lane just as my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It's Mikelis.”
Our first phone call. Always awkward.
“Luucas says you're driving out to meet me.”
“As soon as I get dressed.”
I heard a little rustling in the background, like he was pulling a shirt over his head.
“Now you're just trying to distract me.”
“No, I…” A pause. “Am I succeeding?”
“Kind of. I almost lost her. She's taking the Clinton Avenue exit.”
Downtown Rochester was primarily a business area. Very little happened here during the weekend unless you were visiting the library, the theater, or one of Western New York's finest marks on the culinary world, the Dinosaur BBQ. It was entirely possible that Veronica had a hankering for meat slathered in barbecue sauce, but I doubted it. Her clothes were too expensive to eat anything that required a bib, extra napkins, and a wet wipe. I’d bet good money that she was meeting her voodoo buyer.
“I can’t begin to tell you how angry I am about Ruairí,” Mikelis said. “I should have been more careful last night.”
This sounded like another apology. He had fumbled through all of them so far, so he must not apologize often.
“It was bound to happen at some point.”
“No,” he said. “And I can’t believe Luucas let you out by yourself, even during the day. You don't know what Ruairí’s like. Diaco has to be furious about this.”
I slipped behind an SUV as Veronica made a left turn. Brake lights flashed from every car she had just cut off. I slowed down a bit and put a little more space between us before I turned. Unlike her, I used my turn signal. Safety first.
“My dad doesn’t know about Ruairí yet; I had to hang up so I could call Luucas. When I call him back to explain, furious won’t aptly describe him.”
“This is my fault,” he said. “Nothing will ever be the same. You'll never be able to go anywhere alone again.”
“I couldn’t before.”
“Yeah, Luucas told me about the telepath.”
“You never noticed it?”
“I saw a spell on your watch, but I didn’t know what it was doing.” I could hear his discomfort. “How much of our interaction did he see?”
Before last night, nothing had happened between Mikelis and me. Mostly, it was just looks and juvenile harassment. Still, the telepath made the idea of dating awkward, so he had every right to ask.
“I don’t have to wear the telepath at home, just when I’m outside. And before you ask, no, I’m not wearing it right now, so he isn’t listening to this conversation. I’ll put it on in a minute.”
The telepath was a part of my life. As long as Ruairí was around, that wouldn’t change.
Veronica’s car slowed down, and I did the same, making sure to drop back so she didn't see me. She pulled into the parking garage of a commercial high-rise I was very familiar with. I hit my turn signal and pulled to the curb.
“Veronica just pulled into Marcus’s building.”
My attorney had purchased the building when he first moved here. I was only three or four years old back then. His law firm and financial services only occupied a couple of floors, with the rest being rented to various other businesses. Beneath the concrete building were a few levels of underground parking, though half of the third parking level had been renovated into trendy, concrete apartments.
And most of the apartments were rented to conservators.
“You don’t think her buyer is there, do you?” he asked.
I put the car in drive and eased up to the front, gliding to a near-stop at the mechanical arm. Instead of grabbing a ticket, I took a small, plastic card out of my glove compartment and swiped it in the reader. The arm swung up.
“Yes, to someone on the third parking level.”
He sounded surprised. “How do you know about that?”
“Are you kidding? Marcus and Heraclitus are two of my dad’s closest friends. They only live here as a favor to him. When I was a kid, and my parents had to return to Stockholm for official Council business, I stayed with Marcus. That’s why the other apartments weren’t opened up to renters until a few years ago.”
“When you went to college,” Mikelis concluded.
“Exactly.”
“Did Heraclitus teach you to play the piano, too?”
“He tutored me after the accident. I was an overachiever, thanks to him. I played with the Rochester Philharmonic a couple of times when I was in high school. My parents were so proud.”
“I didn’t know that. You’ve never mentioned it in your interviews.”
I smiled. “You read my interviews?”
He paused. “I wanted to know more about the necromancer who liked to terrorize me.”
I laughed.
By now, I had done a cursory circling of the first and second levels and hadn't seen Veronica. “She's definitely on the third level,” I concluded aloud.
“I'm almost there.”
“Meet me,” I said, steering my car down the ramp to the third level. “My phone signal's cutting out. Can you call Luucas to tell him where we are?”
“Kari, wait—”
My phone beeped and disconnected. I shoved it into my jacket pocket. As I finished the curve onto the third level, I turned off my headlights.
The concrete enclosure was dimly lit by massive, utilitarian lamps that hung from the ceiling by chains. A concrete wall ran through the middle, separating the parking from the apartments. In the center was a hallway. The lights were off in the hall, so I could only see an elevator and emergency stairs, but I knew this place well. The hallway was in the shape of a T with four small apartments in front and three large apartments in back. Marcus and Heraclitus occupied two of the back apartments. The third had always been empty. Brad and I used to make forts in it.
Veronica’s black Acura was parked in the third row from the elevators. She usually wore stilettos, so I rolled down my windows, stuck my head out, and let the car coast in neutral in the hope that I could hear her. All I heard was the buzzing of the overhead lamps. Maybe she had already gone into an apartment? I checked Death Radar, but none of the residents were moving, meaning they were most likely asleep.
I parked on the end of the second row, as it seemed to be the darkest and least conspicuous spot, then I stuffed my purse under the seat and grabbed my key from the ignition.
I shut my door as quietly as possible and walked the perimeter. My sneakers were silent against the concrete, allowing me to listen for any extraneous noises. I approached the elevators cautiously, poking my head around the corner before walking straight into the hall. I didn’t want Veronica taking me by surprise.
I took a couple of steps into the hallway but stopped when I heard a soft tapping behind me. I turned around, cut out a section of the supernatural plane, and flipped it over. I heard a familiar shriek and a loud slam, followed by a car alarm.
I wanted to grab Veronica while she was still on the ground, so I ran back out into the garage. She was already on her feet and wobbled out from behind an old Dodge sedan. Light gleamed off of a silver blade she held in her hand. I stopped cold.
Death Radar showed me that three occupants of the apartments had woken and were sticking their heads out into the hall. The car alarm chirped off.
“I saw you following me,” Veronica sneered. “If you want to be sneaky, stop using your turn signal.”
“I drive responsibly, unlike
you.”
She dared to come within a few feet of me, allowing me to get a good look at today’s necromancer-hunting outfit. She wore a tight black catsuit that reminded me of a dominatrix, paired with the same stiletto boots she wore yesterday and a black leather jacket. Her beautiful blonde hair was tied up in another long, luscious ponytail.
She raised the knife threateningly. The blade was modern, sleek and machine-made with a bright orange handle. There were markings on both sides of the blade, but they weren’t etched, they were drawn—and smeared. I started to laugh.
“Is that a kitchen knife from the cooking channel?”
“No!”
Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, causing me to laugh even harder. “It is! I saw the ad on TV. They were offering an extra paring knife if you called right away.”
By now, I noticed that the residents of the four small apartments had gathered behind us in the hallway and were watching the scene with curious interest.
“This is a voodoo sacrificial knife!”
“You scribbled on it with a magic marker! Look, you didn't even wait for it to dry.”
Her eyes narrowed and the red on her face spread down her neck. “I’m pretty good with a knife.”
I stopped laughing and met her gaze with one equally as threatening. “I'm better.”
“But I have a knife,” she quipped, “and you don't.”
“Then bring it on, cream puff!”
She lunged at me, knife first. I really hadn’t expected her to follow through with her threat and it caught me off guard. I yelped, threw my hands up over my head, and flung myself to the side. She couldn’t stop as quickly in her heels and charged past me, arm outstretched. Caught up in the moment, I swung one of my arms straight down against hers in a lame karate-chop move.
“Hi-yah!” I shouted.
She shrieked and dropped the knife. Her upper body pitched forward to catch it, so I kicked her in the thigh. Her leg flew out from under her. She screamed and grabbed my jacket as she fell to the ground, taking me with her.
As Veronica and I rolled around on the concrete, pulling hair, slapping, and kicking each other, I caught some of the conversation between the immortals in the hall. They all knew who Veronica was. Only one of them knew me. She said she liked our new single. I immediately liked her.