Rose winced. “That’s because George Farrel, the local preacher, is borderline insane. He preaches hellfire and damnation every Sunday and checks the church for the rogue angels that fought against God with Satan. He’s convinced they’re out to get him. He probably thought you were an evil angel.”
“I see,” Declan said dryly.
“Nobody goes to his church except for some old ladies,” she said. Not that it helped the situation any.
“Next I went to the largest house I could find. My logic was that anyone who owned a house of that size would have some roots within the community.”
Rose’s heart sank. There was only one large house next to the church. “Which house? The Ronn house, with the blue roof?”
“Yes.”
She almost cringed. “The dogs.”
He nodded. “Yes. The owners set a pack of dogs on me. I suppose they were also expecting agents of Satan?”
“No, they have a meth lab in the house. They’re producing illegal narcotics. They’re high all the time, and they’re paranoid the cops from the Broken will somehow get into the Edge and raid the place. Did you try anyone else?”
“As I crossed the road to the next house, a woman tried to run me over with her truck.”
“You were in the middle of the road!”
Declan’s face was still impassive. “At the next two houses, I was ignored. They saw me and hid inside. I decided not to waste any more time and began tracking the hounds. It took me a day and a half to untangle the different tracks. One of them led me to an isolated house. A woman emerged—the same one who had tried to run me over—and declared that she would not marry me and I better leave or the two kids at the windows would shoot me.”
Rose struggled for words. He had really tried. He’d tried more than many other people would have in his place. “You must’ve thought the lot of us was insane.”
“The thought did cross my mind. I went along with you because I needed a foothold in the Edge at any cost. I knew that the hounds were drawn to your family because their magic lingered in the area, and contrary to your assertions of yesterday, I don’t want anyone to be hurt. You gave me a very good idea of what you expected a blueblood to be. If I went along with your expectations, I thought I could reasonably predict your reactions. And I wanted to know why you wouldn’t marry me. I found you intriguing.”
Aha. Intriguing. She would buy that for a dollar. Next thing she knew, he’d try to sell her some intriguing oceanside property in Nebraska.
“Declan, I spoke to Georgie, and he told me what Casshorn said. I thought about it, and I realized that Casshorn was right: I am bait. Except it’s not you who is doing the baiting, it’s him. He’s using the threat to me as a means of keeping you put. You can’t go out looking for him, because you’re worried he’ll attack me or the boys. That’s why you followed me into the Broken, that’s why you insisted on staying at my house, that’s why you timed your expedition with Jack for the morning when I was going to spend most of the time in the Broken food shopping. You’re trying to do it even now. You’ve dangled those writs in front of me to make sure that we can escape into the Weird if you fail the challenge and can’t defend us.”
One glance at his face told her she was right. She parked.
“Why are we stopping?” he asked.
“We’re at the boundary. You might not survive it if we cross it in a vehicle—it’s too fast.” She unbuckled her seat belt. “Look, I understand why Casshorn would view me as bait. He thinks I’m trash and a whore and that I’ll just sit on my hands, content to let you guard me until he decides he’s done playing. What I don’t get is, what exactly makes you think that I will stand for it?”
Declan unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over, too close, blocking out the world.
“What are you—”
His lips touched hers, warm and inviting. She was still furious at him, but somehow her anger didn’t stop her from opening her mouth and letting him in. No, it drove her to him, and she kissed him back, caught between the urge to slap him and the thrill of tasting him. His arms closed about her and he pulled her to him. She wasn’t sure if she was trapped or shielded or both, but it made her feel happy and she kissed him.
The sound of a car horn blared at them. They broke apart. A red truck roared past them, its windows down. Rob Simoen screamed some obscenity at them and sped past the boundary into the Broken.
Declan growled. “I’ll have to kill him one day.”
Rose pushed on his chest with her hand. “If you let go of me now, I’m going to chalk your mauling of me up to temporary insanity.”
He kissed her again, lightly brushing her lips.
“Declan!”
His grass green eyes laughed at her. “I wanted you to be sure that I wasn’t temporarily insane.”
“You can stop pretending now, remember?” she said. “I know you didn’t come here for me. You came here because of Casshorn, so no need to keep up the seducing charade. I find it bothersome.”
“This is probably the point where I should be suave,” he said. “I used to be able to do it, but somehow my skills leave me when I’m with you.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes.
“I should be more polite about this, but I don’t think you’ll understand me unless I speak directly,” he said.
She’d heard those words before. It took her a second, but she remembered where—she had said them to him outside of the Burger King.
“You’re a prickly, stubborn, spirited woman.”
“Don’t forget crude, rude, and vulgar.”
“Only when it suits you. You’re sly when occasion calls for it, direct to the point of forgetting tact even exists, sarcastic, fierce, I did mention stubborn, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she said dryly.
“You’re also smart, kind, gentle, beautiful, and always cling to your personal integrity, even when it’s in your best interests to abandon it.”
A little warm feeling spread through her chest, and even her natural suspicion that he was lying couldn’t quite extinguish it. Where was he going with this?
“You’re also quite funny,” he said.
“Oh, I amuse you?”
He gave her one of his devastating, slightly wicked smiles. “You have no idea.”
Arrogant ass. “And all of that means what?”
“Just that I mean to have you.”
She frowned at him.
“I mean to have you, Rose, you and all of your thorns. I’m a disagreeable and stubborn bastard, but I’m not a fool. You didn’t really expect me to pass you up, did you?”
Heat flooded her face, and she knew she flushed. Declan laughed.
“Well, you can’t have me,” she parried. “You lied to me. I don’t trust you, I’m not leaving with you, and I’m not sleeping with you either. Now let go of me and get out of the truck, so we can get through the boundary and get this trip over with.”
They faced the boundary together. It would be difficult for him. Most people from the Weird had difficulty adjusting to the Edge, let alone the Broken. But he had done it once before and showed up in the Burger King to open a glorious can of whoop-ass for Brad. Still, she had to be very careful.
“What happened when you tried to cross the last time?” she asked. “It’s important.”
“Pain,” he said. “I went into convulsions. I think I might have stopped breathing, but my recollection is murky.”
This would take some work. Rose gripped his fingers tighter. “We’ll do this easy and slow. Just follow me, and if you feel like you might be blacking out, tell me.”
She anchored her magic through her palm to his and took a tiny step forward. He followed her. A small portion of magic drained from him, and she replaced some of it with her own. It felt like hooking a vein in your arm with tweezers and pulling it out slowly.
Another step. Again she cushioned the magic drain.
Declan was perspiring.
One more s
tep. Rose felt her body quake. The shock traveled down her arm, and he glanced at her. She gave him a bright, reassuring smile.
Slowly, little by little, they passed across the boundary, and when the last spark of magic died within Declan, she gave him all she had. Another breath and they were through.
Declan stumbled and shook his head. “That was considerably easier. Rose?”
She sank onto the grass, struggling against sharp pain in her stomach. “Give me a minute.”
He knelt by her. “Are you all right?”
She cradled a spiky knot in her stomach. “Fine. Just after-shock. Taking someone across the boundary takes a bit of effort, that’s all.”
He picked her up.
“There’s no need to hold me,” she told him. “It’s just harmless pain. It’s passing already.”
He ignored her. “What would’ve happened if you’d let go?”
“You would’ve died,” she said. “My magic would’ve torn out of your body, and the shock would’ve killed you.”
“You missed your chance to do away with me.”
“Drat,” she said. “I guess there’s always next time.”
A moment later she made him put her down, crossed the boundary, and got her truck.
Despite it being Sunday morning, when a good number of the Broken’s citizens flocked to churches, the Wal-Mart parking lot was crowded.
She swiped a cart. They walked in side by side, and Declan stopped. His eyes surveyed the crowd, taking in the electric lights, the bright colors of the packages, rows of gleaming primary color picnic glassware on his right . . . He reached for her and firmly took her arm.
“What?”
“Too many people,” he said quietly. “Too loud.”
His face closed in, and she was sure that if they had been in the Edge, his eyes would now glow pure white. He resembled a soldier in enemy territory, expecting a sniper’s shot from behind every aisle and a land mine under every floor tile. His magic remained in the Edge; his swords and rifles and even her gun stayed in the car. It was a lot to take in.
She slowly pushed the cart to the side, to a display of fresh flowers. “Let’s stop here for a little while.”
They stood together, watching the crowd. After a few minutes the tension in Declan’s shoulders eased.
“Better?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“Let’s try walking,” she said. “We’ll take it easy.”
They moved down one of the wider aisles. A couple of young girls coming the opposite way gawked at Declan, giggled, and scooted out of the way. Rose glanced at him. He had forgotten his ball cap in the truck, and his hair fell down over his shoulders, clasped together by a piece of leather cord. His broad shoulders strained his green sweatshirt. He’d pulled the sleeves up to his elbows to reveal forearms corded with muscle. The jeans molded to his long legs. The Broken stripped him of the dangerous power-sharpened edge and haughty perfection. Here he was just a man, a bit rougher about the edges and a lot sexier than most, but knitted from the same fabric as all the other people instead of being carved from a glacier. And the air of menace that lingered about him made him devastating to all things female.
An older woman at the jewelry counter nearly dislocated her neck, trying to get his attention. A housewife fussing over a little girl in a cart looked up as they maneuvered around her and simply stared, openmouthed. A woman at the clothes rack raised an eyebrow, tugged her low-cut white blouse lower, and followed them with a determined look on her face.
Just what they needed, more attention. Rose took a sharp turn into the aisle running between the shoe section and sporting goods and glanced behind her. Six women, some discreetly, some openly, followed them. It irritated her to no end.
“I should’ve made you wear a hockey mask,” she murmured.
Declan glanced back and unleashed a dazzling smile. One of the younger girls squeaked like an unoiled door. Somebody mumbled, “Oh, Lord.”
“Stop that!” Rose snapped.
“Stop what?” He turned to her, and she found herself on the receiving end of that same smile. She could’ve stared at him for a year and never gotten tired. “That,” she said firmly. “Quit it.”
“Is it upsetting you?”
The adoring crowd seemed to have grown. “You’re going to cause a riot.”
“You think so? I’ve never created a riot before. I did cause a brawl at the last formal. A large number of young women there actually arrived with the expectation of seducing me into matrimony, and a couple of their mothers came to blows. It was hilari—I mean, dreadful. Simply dreadful.”
“Yes.” Rose sighed in mock pity. “It’s awful to be rich and mind-bogglingly handsome and have women fawn over you. My heart bleeds for you. Poor dear, how do you manage?”
“So you do think I’m handsome.”
She actually stopped for a second. “Declan, I’m not blind.”
He looked disgustingly smug.
“Oh, get over yourself.”
“Not just handsome but mind-bogglingly handsome,” he said.
He’d never let her live it down. She spun about and fixed their audience with a look of withering scorn. “Ladies, have some decency.”
The crowd scattered.
“And now you’re feeling possessive.”
“I think I liked you better as an icy blueblood.” She shook her head and dropped another set of blue candles into the shopping cart.
NINETEEN
ROSE surveyed Declan’s preparations from the porch.
A Sand-n-Sun inflatable pool, twelve feet across and about three feet high, sat in the middle of the lawn. The water shone under the afternoon sun. To the left, Jack sat in a pine tree, staring at the water with a wistful look on his face. Georgie stayed inside. He would never refuse to come out—he was too polite for that—so he quietly hid in the attic, probably hoping they would forget about him.
The screen door swung open, and Grandmother came to join her. Éléonore looked better. Her hair was teased back up, and she had gained a bit of spring in her step. She stared at the lawn.
“What is that boy doing?”
“According to him, he’s implementing his plan to have me. With all my thorns.”
Grandma blinked. “He said that?”
“He did.” And she was a stupid fool, because every time she thought about it, her heart beat faster.
“He’s trying hard, no?”
Rose nodded.
Declan had bought a measuring tape and very carefully measured the distance from the pool, marking the points with white paint. Next he cut several sticks about two feet tall, sharpened both ends, and hammered the sticks into the marked points. He impaled the candles onto the sticks and then strung white clothesline between them. From the height of the porch, the clothesline formed a complex geometrical figure, a seven-pointed star enclosed in a circle, with the pool in the exact center.
“Well, it’s a sigil,” Grandmother said.
Rose had tried to study sigils before. Mystical signs, sigils were most often used in summoning and alchemy. Some of them signified true names of magical beings, and some channeled magic into patterns. It was boring as all get-out, but she’d forced herself to learn the basics.
“Looks like he used a single piece of string,” Grandmother murmured.
Rose found the knot and tried to follow the clothesline with her gaze. The stretches of string crossed, under, over, under again, and came back to the same first post. “Yes,” she said.
“Definitely a sigil,” Grandmother said.
“Grandma?”
“Mmm?”
“Did the boys tell you about Casshorn?”
Éléonore’s eyes darkened, taking on a strange, predatory aspect. “Yes. Yes, they did.”
“He’s in the Wood,” Rose said.
Magic swirled around Éléonore, dark and frightening, like black wings. “Of course,” she said evenly, her face terrible. “Where else would he be? Thinks he
can hide in our back-yard, does he? We’ll find him. And once we do, I’ll bring the power of all of East Laporte onto his head for daring to touch my grandchildren. I’ll see him weep bloody tears before this is over.”
Rose shivered.
Declan emerged from the driveway, carrying the grill from the truck. He set it at the starting point of the star, dumped some charcoal into it, and brought over the large metal bowl filled with powdered herbs.
There were so many things they didn’t know yet. And Declan was their key to finding them out.
“He has half of my supply room in that bowl,” Grandmother said. Rose snuck a peek at her—the dark magic was gone, as if it had never been.
In the yard, Declan drenched the charcoal in lighter fluid and lit it. The flames surged up, licking the briquettes.
“Do you think he can help Georgie?” Rose asked.
“We’ve tried everything else. He can’t hurt, I suppose.” Grandma sighed. “But if you don’t want to leave with him, you should stop helping him.”
“I’m doing it for Georgie.”
“I know, child. I know.” Éléonore petted her shoulder and went inside.
Rose hopped off the porch and approached Declan. He spread the coals with an oversized fork and glanced at her through the cloud of sparks.
“Are you planning to summon a demon?” she asked.
He grimaced. “No.”
“Just checking.”
He threw a handful of herbs into the fire.
“But you are summoning something?”
“An image. I’m also binding it to the water.” He tossed another handful into the fire. The greedy flames pounced on the herbs, sending aromatic smoke into the air. “Problem is, I have to reach across the boundary into the Weird. That will take a fair amount of magic. I’ll need a sacrifice. Just not sure if what I have is enough.”
The first hesitant traces of magic swirled along the clothesline. The water in the pool darkened.
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