by Black, C. I.
She stepped into the flow of pedestrian traffic shadowed by the towering skyscrapers. Here in the heart of the city, the vehicular traffic was thick and plumes of exhaust clouded the street. The snow had stopped falling but the sidewalks were edged with filthy brown mounds and cars splashed slush on those too close to the edge.
This friend will solve this little problem of mine... ours?
She could feel him trying to figure out what to tell her. Hints of emotions and thoughts flitted too fast and too ephemeral for her to catch and examine.
Not exactly.
At least he hadn’t outright lied. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or not. She pulled Pearl’s coat tighter around her. With only an oversized T-shirt and no hat, she was starting to really feel the cold. It had been fine in the car with the heater blasting, but now out on the street where the wind whipped down the road and the tall buildings created a wind tunnel, it went right through her thin clothing and chilled her to the bone.
Should I even bother asking what ‘not exactly’ means? she asked, recognizing the ridiculousness of the question.
No answer. And more hints of thoughts.
Great. It was probably something she needed to know and he wasn’t going to tell her.
Stop here at the bus stop and get out some change from the side pocket of the bag.
She unzipped the small pouch and pulled out a handful of coins. You’re going to have to explain it sooner or later.
No, I’m not.
You really think keeping me in the dark is an option?
A mix of emotions swirled through her, then he spat out a string of curses in a variety of languages, most of them dead.
Wow, you can curse like a sailor in Latin and Old English. That’s impressive. Maybe if she tried humor, he’d open up a bit.
How—?
She bit back a chuckle. All things considered, it felt good to catch him off guard. Didn’t bother to find out anything about me, huh?
I was respecting your privacy. He practically growled the words.
I’m a— Her throat tightened. She wasn’t anything anymore. I was a linguist.
He didn’t respond, but she could sense a thoughtfulness to his silence.
The 81B pulled up to the stop and she got on, taking a seat close to the back.
Now that you know something about me, why don’t you tell me something about you. Like what the heck is going on?
You’re not going to believe me.
She snorted and a woman with a toddler a few seats down gave her a concerned look.
I’m talking to a voice in my head. I think I’ve already made the leap to unbelievable.
Oh, it could get weirder than she imagined.
The thought was so clear he might as well have said it.
Would you just spit it out? His reluctance to share was driving her crazy.
It’s better if you don’t know all the details. We’ll talk to... a friend and then talk to... another friend and...
And then our problem will be fixed with vague unknowns who don’t even have names.
That’s not fair.
“Life isn’t fair.”
The woman gave Anaea another furtive glance and hugged her child close.
It’s better this way. And it would be easier if—
No.
But you don’t even know what I’m going to say.
Oh, yes I do, and this is my body. You’re the interloper.
The bus turned a tight corner and she clung to the pole beside her to keep from sliding from her seat.
It’s dangerous if they don’t think it’s me.
I’m sure it’s more dangerous if I don’t have a clue about what’s going on. Dangerous so far had involved getting shot in the chest and almost run through with a sword. But damn it. It was her body and the more she knew, the better she could cope.
Hunter growled another string of curses. Fine.
Fine.
All right. He squirmed, twisting around within her and making her stomach churn. He really didn’t want to tell her anything, but it couldn’t possibly be worse than her current situation.
Oh for goodness sake, spit it out already.
I’m a spirit—
I kind of got that.
—of a race of spirits.
“A race of what?”
In your head.
The woman with the kid stood and shuffled to the front of the bus.
How can there be a race of spirits? And why can’t you just be spirits someplace else?
Bitterness washed over her, but he sucked it back before she could identify any specific details about it. Without a human vessel I’ll lose cohesion and die, and there are consequences to changing vessels too often. As for the rest, you’re on a need-to-know basis, and that you don’t need to know.
She bit back a nasty retort. Making demands just seemed to make him clam up. So he didn’t want to talk about his spirit state. Fine. She could relate, she didn’t particularly want to talk about her cancer. Okay, so you’re stuck in me.
Until I can make arrangements for an appropriate, unoccupied vessel.
And that will be when?
As soon as business is taken care of.
And that’s what we’re doing now? Taking care of business?
Uh huh.
And you said it was dangerous if they don’t think it’s you.
My people have laws to protect us, to keep us a secret. Sharing a body with a person breaks one of our oldest laws. If they realize we’re both in here they’ll kill us. Hunter’s presence softened and regret seeped through her. I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this. I had thought—
The image of her standing on the bridge on the wrong side of the railing flashed through her mind’s eyes. He had thought he was doing the right thing by saving her. And now he was stuck in her and she was stuck with him... at least until business was taken care of.
From the turn of his mood she didn’t think she’d get more information. But there was time to learn more later, hopefully before she needed it. You still don’t get to use my body, but I promise I’ll do what you say.
And you’ll say what I say?
She nodded without thinking then ran her hands over her head to hide the action. Everyone on the bus must have thought she was crazy. Talking to herself and nodding. She probably was.
She could feel his thoughts churning, but couldn’t get a sense of what he was thinking.
Deal. Get off at the next stop.
She pulled the cord and shuffled to the door.
Remember, you need to do what I say, even if things get...
Weird? she said, filling in the blank for him. She wasn’t sure what could get more weird than what had already happened, but she supposed she’d find out soon enough.
I suppose so, he said.
Stop that. The bus shuddered to a halt and she got off.
Antique shop, red house on the left.
The house couldn’t be missed. It sat in silent defiance to the modernization of the neighborhood. A stately Victorian with single gable, turret, and yawning front porch, it was crowded on one side by a three-story, concrete and glass office building. On its other side lay a parking lot with two scraggly trees marking the entrance.
A neon red-and-blue “open” sign shone in the house’s large front window, the colored light reflecting on the icicles hanging from the porch’s awning. The snow had been cleared off the path leading to the porch steps, and Anaea’s boots crunched on ice, sand, and salt. She reached for the brass doorknob, noting a small sign in beautiful black calligraphy: “Please push. This door sticks.”
She could feel Hunter’s hesitation, as if he held his breath. No, it was more thoughtful than fearful. He was coming to a decision.
It’ll be easier to communicate if you’re... if we’re not so closed off.
The idea of opening up to him held mixed appeal. On the one hand she was dying to know more about Hunter and his race of spirits. On the other, the
idea that a race of spirits existed made her question everything she knew about the world and she feared knowing the truth would drive her crazy.
She entered the shop—the door indeed required a shove—and stepped into a dark, dusty, crowded house. She’d never hidden from the truth before. With three months before her death it was probably pointless to start now. Okay.
A sudden wave of masculine presence filled her. She clutched the empty coat rack just inside the door to keep her balance. Flashes of thoughts, feelings, memories that she couldn’t quite bring into focus, raced through her, then he pulled back and the sense of him lessened, as if he’d hit a dimmer switch.
Sorry. I’ve never done this before.
She could sense his sincerity, and was reminded he was stuck in this predicament, too. Let’s just get this over with. Who are we here to see?
Try the back.
On any other day, she might have paused to look at all the treasures. And there were a lot of treasures. They weren’t arranged in any sort of artful display, but instead were crowded this way and that on shelves and clustered on the floor in what were once a stately living room and dining room. She continued to the back of the house and found a curvy blond in a green pantsuit, lounging in a chair that might or might not have been merchandise. Anaea couldn’t tell. The room had once been a kitchen and was packed with strange metal, wooden, and ceramic gadgets and furniture that she could only assume were related to a kitchen.
The woman’s brown eyes narrowed while Hunter squirmed in Anaea’s head. She had the sense that she—no, he—knew this woman in a very, very friendly way. It was difficult to tell her memories from his, even with Hunter at this ‘dimmer’ setting. He knew the woman from a long time ago. Preferred her hair long, not the bob it was in now. And her eyes were the wrong color. Whatever that meant.
The image of her with some complicated hairdo piled on top of her head and a corset that barely maintained her modesty popped into Anaea’s mind.
Heat raced up her neck and she turned away to hide her blush.
Don’t break eye contact.
What?
Just don’t.
His fierce tone shot her gaze straight into the woman’s.
The woman’s lips curled with a hint of a sneer.
Hunter was right. If she were him, she wouldn’t have looked away at the thought of some woman’s breasts. She wouldn’t have blushed either, but she had less control over that.
“I see a familiar aura but not a familiar body.” The woman burst into laughter. “Oh, this is rich. The mighty Hunter reduced to a woman.”
Anaea bristled.
“Just open the gate,” she heard herself say.
“Heavens, no. I want to laugh at you a little more. There’s no way you’d have willingly given up your Crusader. You were more in love with him than me.”
“Jade—”
Do you mind? Anaea said. You’re not allowed to have a conversation without me. She wasn’t sure what most of the conversation was about, but couldn’t stand that somehow he had appropriated her body again.
Sorry, it just happened.
She couldn’t tell if he felt contrite or not.
“You know I have to announce your entrance into Court.”
He had expected no less, but Anaea heard herself protest anyway. “Only if you choose to. You could just let me slip in.”
Would you stop that. Nope, definitely not contrite about taking over.
Jade stood, sauntered to Anaea, and leaned close, brushing her lips against Anaea’s. Hunter shivered with disgust as Anaea did, and they both pulled back.
“I suppose I could let you... slip in.” Jade curled her top lip back revealing her teeth and Anaea got the impression it was supposed to be a come-on. “As best as you can, all things considered.”
Jade slid a heated gaze down Anaea’s body and her face burned. This time she did nothing to hide it.
“I’ll grow my hair out for you.” Jade’s hair lengthened, like stop-motion photography on fast forward. It spilled over her shoulders in long golden locks.
Holy shit!
“If I recall, you preferred a curl.” Her hair bounced into gentle ringlets. “And green eyes.” Green light flashed over her eyes. When the light dimmed, they were a breathtaking emerald.
What was that?
Jade playing games.
In the back of her mind, Anaea felt Hunter’s disgust that Jade would use what little sorcerer ability she had to change her appearance. It was such a waste of energy. She was about to ask what that meant when she realized he was considering Jade’s sexual invitation. Not in terms of attraction but in terms of what best suited his needs.
Absolutely not! She shoved Hunter to the back of her mind. “Announce me or don’t. Open the gate,” she said while Hunter fought against her.
Jade pouted, her full bottom lip drawing memories of lingering kisses from a long time ago. Anaea ground her teeth. There was no way she was going to have sex with some strange woman who thought Hunter inhabited her body just to have some stupid door opened.
God, Anaea. Couldn’t you have played along? We could have made a date for after this situation is fixed.
She hadn’t thought of that, and a small part of her still didn’t like the idea of Hunter sleeping with that woman even in a different vessel.
“Be that way.” Jade’s pout dropped away and she walked to a slatted-wood door marked “Employees Only.” It opened into a narrow pantry crammed with china and knick-knacks. At the back, a rickety set of stairs led into a cavernous basement—not the low-ceilinged dugout Anaea had expected.
It was the most space she’d seen in the house. The walls and ceiling were plain concrete. Half a dozen doors lead to other rooms to Anaea’s left, right, and behind her, but the wall in front of her was unbroken.
With one last heated glance, Jade sauntered to the wall before them, her hips swaying with exaggerated movements. She placed her palm on it and closed her eyes.
So, about the hair thing?
It’s comp—
Don’t you dare say it’s complicated. I’ve already figured that out.
The air around Jade quivered, like heat radiating from asphalt in summer. Anaea’s skin tingled.
Hunter sighed. And it’s about to get more complicated.
Jade chanted, her voice hushed. She wasn’t speaking English. Perhaps it was that strange language Anaea had spoken earlier when Pearl died.
Jade never learned Sumerian. She spent most of her time in China, Hunter said, as if Jade not learning Sumerian lessened her somehow.
Mandarin or Cantonese, maybe. Anaea’s Mandarin and Cantonese weren’t great and Jade was using strange phrasing, but now that Anaea knew what to listen for she could make out a bit of what she was saying.
How did—?
Linguist, remember.
Light flashed across the wall and the air around them shook.
What is she doing?
Making a gate to our inter-dimensional sphere.
A speck of black pierced the center of the concrete.
You know you sound like a bad Star Trek episode.
Hunter snorted. Think more like Lord of the Rings. Jade has the ability to channel the energy of the universe to create a gate between your dimension and ours.
Dimensions? Energy of the universe?
In the old days it was called magic.
What do you call it now?
Magic.
Spirits, magic, other dimensions. Yep, she was losing her mind, but all of her senses told her the black void growing with every second was real. The darkness devoured the light and the wall until it reached the corners. Anaea couldn’t see anything beyond. It was a big, gaping nothing.
Any more magic you need to tell me about?
Not at the moment. Now, remember to do what I tell you.
She felt the urge to step toward the black nothingness and Hunter’s intention that they walk through it.
You want me to go
in there?
Where else would we go?
She bit back her rising panic. There was no way she was going to walk into that thing.
It’s the only way to get me out of your head.
Crap. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? Besides, what did she have to lose? Her life? Hunter, more like it. And irrationally, she wasn’t sure she wanted to lose him. But then he’d die with her when the cancer had run its course and he didn’t deserve that. She hadn’t managed to save him, or rather his body, in the river, but she could save him now.
She gulped in air and stepped into the black nothing.
CHAPTER 9
The world twisted and spun. Anaea was weightless. The void pressed against her senses, plugging her ears and pouring down her throat. She gasped, struggling for air.
Then her foot hit something solid. Her leg buckled and she fell. Hard, cold stone met her knees and hands.
Hunter shivered in her mind. God, I hate that.
Gee, I can’t imagine why. She glanced up. They were in a large empty chamber, with open archways on either side. Rough-hewn granite walls, floor, and ceiling surrounded them. There were no windows and no obvious light sources even though the room was as bright as where they’d just left. There also wasn’t a door or a black hole or anything else behind her.
Welcome to Court.
What?
Our inter-dimensional sphere.
Footsteps rushed down the hall to her right and she scrambled to her feet.
Brace yourself, Hunter said, as a large man hurtled toward them. His name popped into her head: Grey. His name was Grey, and Hunter didn’t recall him being so large before. He looked like a Viking, all towering muscle with long, wild, blond hair. It struck her as odd that he was dressed in a modern suit.
He looked furious and ready to bowl her over. She searched for a place to run or hide, but there wasn’t one.
No, brace yourself and meet his gaze.
But Grey stumbled to a halt. “Mother of All, Hunter. What the hell happened?”
Grab him.
You want me to what?
Hunter seized control of her body, closed the distance between her and Grey and yanked the front of his dress shirt. He brought her cheek to Grey’s and hissed. And for a moment she didn’t feel entirely human. No, it was Hunter, not her. There was something feral, something primal about him. Part of the same whatever it was that she’d glimpsed when he’d lost his temper in the hotel. He filled her thoughts, as if his soul was too big for her tiny body.