Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel (Book 3)

by Mayer, Shannon

  “Then we’ll lay it on her.” Terese pointed at Giselle, who nodded without hesitation.

  “I will, if you will answer questions for us, and if once you see the truth, you will make a peace pact with Rylee.”

  Terese agreed and the others stepped around us in a circle. My shoulders tightened with anticipation; I didn’t like people where I couldn’t see them.

  The thing was, I wasn’t sure what a truth spell entailed, and I should have known better than to just agree. Should have, but I thought Giselle knew what she was up to. Of course, that was just it, she did.

  Terese beckoned to Giselle to kneel in front of her, and then placed one hand on either side of her head.

  “En memories benefactor justifus.” Terese intoned.

  Giselle flexed and let out a moan. Terese’s eyes glazed over and I realized that she was seeing what Giselle had seen as she flinched and her face grew sorrowful. Tears slipped down her creamy skin, and I hated her a little. Terese had no right to be upset; Milly had been my best friend, not hers. And no, I don’t care how stupid that sounds.

  Terese let go of Giselle. “They are speaking the truth. I have seen it. Milly is not who we thought she was.” She covered her lips with her dainty freaking fingers. The murmuring started and she lifted a hand again for silence. “We must meet with the full Coven. There are things Milly has done that you could not know were against our precepts.”

  “You mean like the anklet?” I asked.

  Terese nodded. “The threat to your wolf, that alone will gain her excommunication.”

  That surprised me. “Why?”

  “The local pack is a part of our extended family, if you will. Milly was their liaison.” Terese stared at me, as if willing me to understand the unspoken words.

  It only took me about two seconds to put it together. Milly was in good with the pack, and the pack was trying to kill Alex. I thought back to when the pack had chased us and Milly had refused to do anything about it. All the puzzle pieces were becoming painfully, razor-sharp clear.

  The rage that had dimmed with the pummeling I’d taken came flooding back, my muscles awash with adrenaline. I stood there, shaking, but unable to move just yet.

  “Then you have no problem if I kill her?” I asked, proud at how steady my voice was, how quiet and deadly.

  Terese stared at me, the pulse in her throat jumping. “I saw her connection to you through your mentor’s eyes. If you must kill her, there will be no retribution from us.”

  The other witches gasped and the previous Coven leader, Milly’s boy-toy, stepped forward, mouth a thin line, eyes hard with anger.

  “No, Milly could be helped—”

  This time it was Giselle who lifted her hand in a sharp slashing movement, cutting him off.

  “No, she can’t. The darkness in her has taken root; the only way to keep that darkness from spreading is to destroy its vessel.”

  Her words hung in the air, and the finality of the situation slid over me. Milly—for all the love I’d had for her, for the memories we shared, the oaths we’d taken together—would never be back.

  This was it.

  I was going to kill my best friend.

  6

  The first thing Terese did was make a blood oath with me, one of peace. One that would keep me on the good side of the Coven, regardless of the fact that I was going to kill Milly.

  We repeated the necessary words as blood from a finger prick from each of us dropped into an open brazier.

  “By blood and oath, a binding tie between magic, death and honor.”

  Thank the gods it was simple and no freaking Latin.

  Terese sent us off with a pre-made spell that would enclose Milly and put her to sleep, making the final blow easier on both of us. Of course, after Terese had told us everything Milly had been telling the Coven, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to go easy on my former best friend.

  “We know all your secrets, Rylee—about your Immunity and the best way to work around it. About your Tracking and the ways she’d learnt to shift someone’s threads and the vibrations they gave off to another. She knows your strengths and your weaknesses, and will use them against you, as she did us. My only piece of advice is to kill her swiftly.”

  What had infuriated me the most was, as we drove away, knowing I had to leave for London and wouldn’t be able to take care of Milly until I got back. She was a burr under my skin, itching and irritating the hell out of me. How was I going to find the witch if I couldn’t Track her? Shit, I’d have never thought someone could shift vibrations; the threads always seemed so distinct to me.

  Was that what had happened with my last salvage and the Trolls? Maybe that hadn’t been Troll magic shifting the kid’s energies, masking them so I thought he was still alive.

  Fuck, maybe it had been Milly.

  More than ever, I knew I needed to get to London and learn from the Tracker waiting there. I had to believe that Jack Feen would have the answers.

  I turned my head to look at Giselle. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back in the seat.

  “Giselle,” I said softly. “Are you okay?”

  “Just tired. A truth spell is one that drains the person it’s used on.”

  “Do you want me to pull over, or . . .” Damn, I didn’t know what she would need. I’d never had a spell used on me and never would; I had no idea what would help the recovery time.

  “No, just take us home. That is where I need to be.”

  I drove as fast as I dared on the winter-kissed roads. Black ice was a bitch, and I’d already had one accident that winter. I had no need to make it a repeat event.

  We pulled into the driveway and made it all the way up to the farmhouse before I registered that Giselle had gone very still. I slammed the Jeep into park and reached over, putting my fingers against her throat.

  My own heart hammered so hard I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, if anything.

  “Giselle, please, not yet.”

  I pressed harder up under her jaw. Almost ten seconds passed before the flutter of a heartbeat brushed against my fingertips, like the touch of a butterfly’s wing, it was so hesitant.

  Leaping out of the Jeep, I ran around to the passenger side and opened the door. This couldn’t be it, it just couldn’t. With as much care as I had in me, I lifted Giselle out and half-jogged, half-speed walked up to the house, somehow managing to open the door without putting her down.

  Placing Giselle in my bed, I again felt for a heartbeat. The feel of her blood pumping was faint, and so subtle, so quiet I could hardly convince myself that she was in fact still alive.

  She let out a moan and I sat beside her. “Giselle, what do you need?”

  Her eyes fluttered and opened, staring up at me. “It is time, my girl.”

  My heart slammed against my chest. “No, not yet.” I reached out and touched the side of her face, feeling the coolness of her skin. I pulled the blankets around her, and then curled up beside her, giving her the warmth of my own body. Her hand lifted in the air, then dropped light as a feather onto my hip.

  “I’ve told you much, but there is a little more.” She took a breath, but her chest didn’t rise, as if the air were escaping her somehow.

  I closed my eyes and put my face into the crook of her neck, breathed in deep, as if I could somehow help her. I could say nothing, didn’t trust my voice to do anything but crack and crumble under the strain of my heart breaking.

  “You will need this.” She touched the opal stone hanging from her neck. “I cannot see clearly why, only that you must take it with you to London.”

  I put my hand over hers. “All right.”

  Her eyelids fluttered and her body shivered. I held her tighter, as if I could stop her from going. Even I couldn’t stop death, though, no matter my abilities.

  “You are more than a Tracker, Rylee, and in some ways, that is the least of your worries.” She took a breath, let it out, took another. “You are touched with the Blood of the Lost.�
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  I circled her with my arms, not caring what she said, only knowing that it would be the last I ever heard her speak. Let her tell me to find my blue socks for years, I would take that over this. But it wasn’t my choice, and in my heart I knew that she wanted to be free of the madness.

  “Rylee.”

  The thrum of her heart, unsteady and hesitant as if it wasn’t sure it would give another beat, thumped pitifully against my ear.

  “I’m here,” I said, my voice thick with unshed tears.

  “My last advice for you.” She paused, her opposite hand coming across to stroke my face as she spoke. “Trust your heart, always. Even when your head tells you not to, it is your strength. And remember that I love you—” Giselle took a sharp shuddering breath and I froze, my mind and heart screaming together a cacophony of denial.

  “Giselle?” I sat up and her hand slid off my hip, limply falling onto the bed. I stared down at her and knew without Tracking her that she was gone, but I did it anyway, reaching out in desperation for her threads.

  They gave off the dim glow of the newly deceased, and I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet in an effort to get away.

  She was the last of my family, the whole reason I was able to face the world and make the tough decisions. Because I knew she was with me, she was the one who’d helped me heal after my adoptive parents turned their backs on me. Giselle was the one who’d shown me it was safe to love someone.

  I found my way to the living room and fell to my knees in front of the big bay window. In my mind’s eye, I could see Giselle and Alex sitting in front of me, looking out the window, their heads bowed together. Closing my eyes, I leaned forward until my head touched the wooden floors. This was not happening. So fast, so unexpected, I couldn’t make heads or tails of what to do next. I stayed there, breathed in the scent of old wood and lemons from the polish, and let my mind go blank. Let myself forget what had happened.

  My old rotary phone rang, snapping my head up off the floor. I fought off the rush of blood and wondered distantly how long I’d been kneeling—my sense of time distorted with my grief. I forced myself to my feet and walked, albeit somewhat unsteadily, into the kitchen to pick up the phone, my body and mind in complete disconnect.

  “Hello?”

  A young girl spoke on the other end, and it took me a minute to recognize her. India, the child I’d rescued with O’Shea; a girl with talents that were even now growing and changing.

  “Rylee, Giselle says you don’t have time to grieve. You have to go after the kids in London and then kick Milly’s” —her voice dropped to a whisper— “ass. I’ve got to go now, my mom is coming.”

  The phone call ended with a click and I stared down at it.

  “Still bossing me around,” I said, a pitiful attempt at a laugh escaping my lips. “Okay, I’ve got it. Kids first, Milly second, grieve third.”

  I made a phone call to Agent Valley. He didn’t answer, so I left him a message. There was no need for a care aide for Giselle now.

  Alex came trotting into the kitchen from outside as I hung up the phone for the second time, his coat dusted in snow, his tongue lolling out. “Hey ho. Rylee play?”

  “No, not right now.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Giselle play?”

  My throat tightened and I shook my head. “No. Giselle died.”

  Alex’s eyes widened and he sat back on his haunches, his big paws slapping over his elongated muzzle. “No, no, no. Alex love Giselle. Giselle not dead!” He let out a howl, the sound ripping though the house, tearing through me and heightening my own sorrow. I wished that I could howl with him, let my grief fling far and wide until I was wrung out, but that was a luxury I could not afford. Not yet anyway.

  I dropped to my knees in front of the werewolf and wrapped my arms around him. “I loved her too, but right now we need to be strong. Giselle wants us to go find those kids in London.”

  Alex sniffled and whimpered, continuing to whisper, “no, no, no.” As if he could somehow take away her death. I clung to him, my last tie to a family I’d put together in bits and pieces.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine how the hell my life would go without Giselle in it.

  And for the life of me, I couldn’t see anything but an empty hole.

  7

  Sweat pooled on my lower back, the plush seat wrapping me like a stifling hug from an overbearing aunt. Fumbling at the seatbelt, I stood up and walked to the thick black line I wasn’t to cross, and then back to my seat in an attempt to calm down. The Boeing 747 was huge, especially since it wasn’t set to be a typical commercial craft. The back half where I was sectioned off was open, more like a living room than an airplane.

  Even though Agent Valley assured me that the FBI had rigged this plane to be impervious to the vibrations supernaturals gave off, I still wasn’t allowed any closer than necessary to the engines and the navigational equipment. Hence the thick black line on the cream colored carpeting.

  Smart, but it made me wonder just how safe their crappy plane actually was. I paced my small area, the circle of my steps tightening with each round until I was back at my seat.

  Eve had offered to fly to London, but I’d turned her down. Since it would take her at least a week, hopping from island to island across the Pacific Ocean then flying up the coast of Africa, or even if she went up the east coast through Canada and across Greenland, I told her to go back to Eagle and her training. The reality was if she couldn’t come with us, by the time she got to London, everything would be done. Alex and I would be on our own on this run. My mind shifted to Giselle and my heart clenched with sorrow.

  Not yet.

  Though Eve had argued half-heartedly, I could see by the glimmer in her eyes she was excited to go back to the Guardian and his training with her.

  Alex hadn’t moved from his spot beside me, his claws carefully lifting the shade on the window up and down; like he was hypnotized. Which was not a bad thing after waking up to him howling Giselle’s name every hour the night before.

  I leaned back in the chair and scrubbed at my over-tired eyes, listening to the voices floating back to me. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  Hmm. But Alex could.

  I tapped him on the shoulder and he rolled his head upside down to look at me. “Alex, what are they saying?” I pointed to the front of the plane.

  He tipped his head, then lifted one floppy ear with the tips of two claws to hear better.

  I had to smother a laugh, and once more, I was grateful he was with me.

  “Parachutes. And plane crash,” he said, tongue flicking out to dangle in front of his nose.

  My gut tightened and I no longer thought this trip was a good idea. Another Tracker or not, if I died on this flight because of whatever vibrations Alex and I gave off . . . who the hell knew if Agent Valley was even telling the truth? He could just be making things up as he went in order to get me to agree.

  The engines rumbled and the plane started to move. Shit, too late to change my mind now.

  I snapped my seatbelt on and then wrestled with Alex to do the same for him. Pouting, he sat awkwardly in the seat made for people, legs sticking out, arms folded across his chest. His body just didn’t quite work with the seat, but at least he was strapped in.

  The flight attendant, Agent Valley, and another agent I didn’t recognize except for the standard FBI suit and tie, made their way to their seats and buckled up. A fourth person who had on a deep red hoodie, which covered his face, slipped into the seat at the very front, furthest away from me and Alex. Agent Valley called over his shoulder to me.

  “This is your first time flying, isn’t it?”

  I thought about Eve and me flying high over New Mexico. So maybe this wasn’t the same thing, but riding a Harpy with no rigging to hold you on was no mean feat.

  “Nah.”

  “Excellent. Then we won’t have to sedate you.”

  Laughter followed his comment, and I g
rit my teeth. They must have seen me pacing. Assholes.

  “Good thing you won’t have to try,” I said. “I’d hate to see your nose broken again, though I doubt it could look much worse than it does now.”

  A sharp intake of air from the other agent and a muffled laugh from the guy in the hoodie filtered back to me. I settled back into my seat and closed my eyes. I could do this, I would not freak out, I would not freak out, I would not freak out . . . .

  As the plane pulled into the air, my stomach dropped and I couldn’t stop myself from clenching the armrests. A distraction, that was what I needed. I pulled the opal pendant out of my left pocket and dangled it in front of me. No need to wear it, but I was going to keep it close. Giselle had never been wrong about her predictions, so I knew that at some point there would be a use for it. It spun slowly in the air, little pricks of color sparkled, and I mulled over the possibilities. Maybe I’d be dealing with another Reader, someone I would need to be lucid in order to crack the case.

  “Alex sick.”

  My eyes darted sideways to see Alex with his tongue hanging out, saliva pouring off it like a miniature river. Oh, shit, this was not good. I jammed the pendant back in my pocket, unbuckled him and clenched my hand around his collar, dragging him toward the bathroom as the plane climbed.

  “Ma’m, you can’t leave your seat!” The flight attendant shouted at me.

  “You do not want him puking anywhere but in the toilet!” I shouted back, thinking of all the food he’d eaten that morning.

  We barely made it to the closet of a bathroom before Alex heaved his guts out, just making it into the tiny toilet. How people ever thought the mile high club was a good idea, I couldn’t see. We barely fit and we’d left the door open.

  Alex retched until there was nothing left, which looked to be about four pounds of breakfast and snacks. Nothing that would have stayed in a barf bag, that was for sure.

  I filled the sink with water and, taking a cloth, wiped his muzzle and face down. “Feel better now?”

  He bobbed his head. “Tired.”

  Slowly, Alex weaving like a drunk, we made our way back to our seats. The plane levelled off and the flight attendant came around. I took a ginger ale for Alex and a bottle of water for me.