by Jane Kindred
“Went for a little ride-along. Since you’ve been fooling around with my Jacob, it seemed only fair.” Phoebe’s heart began to pound and Lila noticed. Just as Lila would have experienced any physical sensation in Phoebe’s body—if she were along for the ride. “You don’t like not knowing what happened, do you? But you know something happened.”
A surge of anger overtook the spike of anxiety. “What did you do?”
“I could tell you. But I won’t. You’ll find out soon enough. Barbara tried to warn you to stay out of things that don’t concern you. But you keep sticking your nose in it. And your little ride? It’s nothing to what we’ve been put through, those of us on this side. But you just keep making it worse.”
“How? What have I done to you?”
“You give him exactly what he wants.”
“Jacob?”
Lila laughed riotously—one of the more unnerving sensations when allowing a step-in. “Jacob does what he chooses to do. Though why he’d choose to do it with you—he must simply be desperate or bored. No. It’s what you’re doing to the quetzal. Tezcatlipoca’s power grows as the quetzal awakens. And with every touch, you awaken it. The quetzal has slept a very long time. You know the saying, ‘let sleeping dogs lie.’ So leave the damned dog alone.”
Phoebe began to cry, but they weren’t her tears. “Lila, I can help you. Despite the way you feel about me, I want to help you. If you’d just let me—”
“Stop helping!” The crying turned into sobbing, and Phoebe wept into her hands, feeling Lila’s hopelessness and fear. “Leave us alone. Just go away. I don’t want to do anything worse to you, but he can make me. Why would you want that? Just go!”
With that, Lila was gone, leaving Phoebe with the miserable emotion she’d stirred up as if it were her own, along with the terrible feeling in her gut about the “ride-along” Lila had alluded to. Whatever had happened with Carter, she was certain now it was part of this. Part of what Monique had been telling her before she’d been murdered. The client list Monique had talked about—the “respectable, power-tripping dicks”—Carter had to be one of them. Maybe he’d even purchased the ride-along.
Phoebe stopped crying, no longer feeling Lila’s residual emotion. Now she just felt sick.
Chapter 20
Summoning Lila with Ione’s spell would be a waste of magic, and Ernesto seemed so frightened for his family Phoebe doubted he’d ever betray Tezcatlipoca. Jacob was the only reasonable option. He did as he chose, as Lila had said. Perhaps he was more willing to cross the necromancer.
Trying to ignore the unsettling feeling Lila’s words had given her, she set up the altar the way Rafe had taught her, using the bureau in her bedroom on Ione’s advice instead of the coffee table. An altar, Ione had explained, should be something more intimate, with meaning to the witch. Of course, Phoebe was no witch, but she saw the logic behind it. It stood to reason there would be more power behind the spell if the individual’s energy was stronger, and one’s energy, Phoebe knew from dealing with shades, was strongest in one’s own domain.
She debated undressing, knowing Jacob would make a thing of it, and decided on the bra-and-underwear approach.
Lighting the candles and the incense, Phoebe called the corners and gave the invocation. Instead of the Aztec deities Rafe had called upon, she used the generic “god and goddess” on Ione’s recommendation.
Her stomach clenched when she called Jacob to her. After her last encounter with him, and after what Lila had revealed, there was no telling how he’d respond. She almost forgot the binding element of the spell, quickly adding it as she felt Jacob’s energy coalescing.
“Well, that’s not very nice.” Jacob’s lower, sensuous register came from her mouth. “Ask a man to enter you and then tell him he can’t move.” Disconcertingly, her own eyes looked back at her from the mirror above the bureau with obvious desire.
“Hello, Jacob.”
“Lovely to be inside you, though I would have preferred it the conventional way.”
Phoebe snorted. “I’ll bet.”
“To what do I owe the honor?”
“I don’t suppose you’d just tell me the name of the one who calls himself Tezcatlipoca.”
“And what would you give me in return, lovely Phoebe?”
Phoebe smiled wryly at her face in the mirror. “I can only imagine one thing you want. Can’t really give you that on my own.”
“You could lift the binding spell and let me touch you.”
“Touch me?” Her reflection’s cheeks reddened in the mirror. “You mean let you masturbate.”
Phoebe’s expression changed to a shudder of distaste from Jacob. “What a terrible word. Please. I mean let me pleasure you. It would be a unique experience for me to feel it from your perspective.”
“Yeah, how about no, Casper.”
Her reflection’s eyebrow lifted nonchalantly—a gesture she’d never been able to master herself. “Just as well. I can’t tell you the name.”
“He’s bound you from telling me?”
“No.” Jacob smiled. “I just don’t know it.” And yet he’d tried to get her to give him sexy time on the pretext that he did. Nice.
Phoebe tried another tack. “Does Lila know it?”
Her expression didn’t change. “I believe she does, yes.”
“And you know what she does for him. What she did to me.”
Jacob turned her mouth downward. “She serves Titlacauan against her will. We’re all influenced by him in one way or another.”
“But you less than the others.”
“I stay because of her. I won’t abandon her to the necromancer. I abandoned her in life, years ago, allowing money and power to come between us, and died before I could tell her I regretted it. I’ve stayed by her ever since.”
“Would Lila tell you the name if you asked her?”
Jacob smiled sadly. “How can I ask her? We’re kept apart. The only time I’ve been able to speak with her in almost thirty years was through you. The first time she occupied another mortal frame, I stepped into one myself, trying to connect with her, but she was bound by Tezcatlipoca’s terms.” Phoebe’s reflection in the mirror was as downcast as she’d ever seen it. “It was worse than being apart from her to have her so close and yet realize she was acting as his puppet, not my Lila.”
Phoebe sighed. Any hope she’d had of somehow cracking this thing on her own was quickly evaporating. It was all much more complicated than she’d understood. But Carter, and Monique’s cop, and whoever else was patronizing the sex workers who were participating in ride-alongs had to lead to something.
“What do you know about ride-alongs?”
Jacob’s look through her eyes was guarded. “I know what they are.”
“Have you participated in them?”
“You’re asking if I’ve ever stepped into someone in order to give them a sexual experience they couldn’t otherwise have on their own?” Her mouth turned up in a sly grin at his direction. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
Her head throbbed with the sustained hosting of the shade, making it hard for her to concentrate and maintain her hold on the separation of identities. Phoebe gritted her teeth and pressed her fingers to her temples. She had to know.
“But have you done it for the necromancer—for anyone who’s paid for the experience? Have you done it with Rafe?”
Jacob hesitated longer than was comfortable before answering. “Never against another’s will.”
Perhaps it was the method with which she’d summoned Jacob to step in—it was, after all, a question of consent—but Phoebe couldn’t hold on to him any longer. Limbs shaking uncontrollably, she collapsed onto the bed and let his shade slip away. He hadn’t given her a direct answer. Whether it was just Jacob being Jacob or wh
ether his prevarication meant something more troubling, she couldn’t be sure.
* * *
She realized she’d dozed off when the insistent ringing of her doorbell—someone was pressing it compulsively in rapid succession—woke her. Phoebe wiped the saliva off the corner of her mouth where she’d drooled onto the bedspread and grabbed her robe from the back of the door.
“Coming,” she called as she hurried down the hall. “Hang on.”
She yanked the door open, ready to yell at whatever idiotic delivery person was violating her doorbell, only to find Theia and Rhea grinning at her.
“Surprise!”
“It’s us!”
Phoebe couldn’t help but break into a grin herself as she unlocked the screen door to let them in. “Yeah, I can see it’s you.” They enveloped her in a dual side hug like only the twins could. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Just felt like you needed some company.”
“What are you doing half naked?” Rhea pulled back to look her in the eye. “Is that totally fucking hot guy here?” Her voice started out soft and got deliberately loud as she projected down the hallway toward Phoebe’s room.
Phoebe pinched her. “Brat. No, he’s not here. That was a one-time thing.”
Theia shared a look with Rhea. “Uh-huh.” She glanced back at Phoebe, staring her down in the unnerving way she had when she wanted to get something out of her.
“Okay,” Phoebe admitted. “There was another sort-of thing. It didn’t end well. And I think I may have gotten myself into something... I can’t even explain. I’m actually really freaked out.” She threw a look at Rhea, who’d crouched to give Puddleglum a vigorous chin scritch as he came out to greet the company. “So please don’t make any more jokes about him.”
Rhea straightened, rubbing her tattooed arms. “A no-joke-zone Phoebe. You are freaked out.”
Theia, who’d been holding one arm behind her back, produced a six-pack of IPA. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Phoebe smiled and took the beers. “I can’t. It has to do with a case. Client confidentiality.” It was sort of true.
“You’re working on Rafe Diamante’s case?”
“No, another case. Or I was working on it, until my client became the second victim of Barbara Fisher’s killer.”
“Oh, my God,” they said together.
“Plus, I got suspended from the PD’s office for being a giant slut.” She grinned to make light of the situation, but they weren’t buying it.
“I can’t believe that. I mean, you’re obviously a giant slut.” There was no way Rhea would have been able to pass that one up. Phoebe had handed it to her, really. “But they’re punishing you for being one? That’s a bit Nathaniel Hawthorne.”
Phoebe shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll blow over.” She headed into the kitchen as Puddleglum began to complain of his imminent starvation. “Have you guys eaten? Should we get a pizza?”
The doorbell rang again before the words were out of her mouth.
Theia grinned and pulled out her wallet as she went to answer it. “We figured you’d say that, so we called ahead.”
“I told her to wait.” Rhea shrugged. “I mean, what if we hit traffic or something?”
Theia came back with an extra-large pizza box. “Doubting Thomasina.”
“God, that smells good.” Phoebe’s stomach announced its agreement while she finished feeding Puddleglum. She grabbed some plates and a bottle opener to bring to the living room where Rhea and Theia were already seated around the coffee table digging into the pizza.
“Any more weird omens?” Rhea never let a mouth full of food stop her from talking.
Phoebe pretended to be concerned with her own chewing while she decided how much to tell them. “There’s been a coyote hanging around. He went for Glum—hence the fashionably shaved hip. And he can’t go outside anymore, so be careful with the doors.”
“Aw, poor Glum.” Rhea frowned. “I was about to ask about that, but then you were all ‘slutty PD’ and I got distracted.”
“Coyote.” Theia swallowed her bite. “Like the Trickster.” That was certainly one word for him. “Usually they’re a good omen, a sign not to take ourselves so seriously. But a coyote attacking Puddleglum—that doesn’t sound so good. You sure it didn’t have rabies?”
“It doesn’t act rabid, just sort of stalkerish, but thanks to Rhea pestering me, Glum’s vaccinations are up to date.”
“So you’ve seen it more than once.” Theia popped open an IPA.
Phoebe nodded around a bite of pizza. “Three times. Or twice that I saw it. Rafe saw it once before. Right after we saw the owl, actually.”
Theia took another slice. “You didn’t mention it then.”
“No, because he hadn’t mentioned it to me. He only remembered seeing it hanging around the property when I told him what happened to Glum. That’s how I ended up at his place. He thinks the coyote is a nagual—a sort of Aztec totem of the necromancer who’s responsible for the murders—and he didn’t think it was safe for me to stay here.”
Rhea set down her slice and wiped her hands on her pants. “I don’t like the sound of that. Necromancers and evil coyote totems? Maybe Rafe’s right. You could stay with Ione for a while.”
Phoebe laughed. “Yeah, that’s hilarious, Rhe.”
“You said you’d started talking to her again.”
“And then I totally pissed her off by crashing her Taizé service at Holy Cross for a summoning spell. She made me stay for the service—and I had a visitor.”
“Get out,” they said in unison.
“That’s what I said.” Phoebe took a bite of her pizza.
Theia shook her head. “Sweetie, you lead the most interesting life.”
“I think I’d settle for a whole lot of dull at this point.”
“I think that would be Ione’s realm.” Rhea gave her a wicked grin. “By the way, I call—”
“Guest bed.” Theia was smug. “Called. Too late.”
Rhea tossed an olive at her. “If I have to sleep on the couch, I get Puddleglum.”
Phoebe shrugged. “Good luck with that. He thinks the guest bed is his.”
* * *
After finishing off the IPA while commiserating about their collectively spectacular bad dating karma, they retired for the night.
The baying of coyotes woke Phoebe from a fitful sleep a few hours later. It sounded like there were several of them, calling back and forth to each other. She went to the living room to look out the window and found Rhea already peering through the curtains.
“Can that necromancer duplicate himself with several of those coyote avatar things?”
“I don’t think so.” Phoebe joined her and saw two pairs of glowing eyes crossing paths along the edge of the property.
“That’s three I’ve seen on this side of the house.”
“At least two more out back.” Theia shuffled into the living room in her stocking feet, her dark bob of hair tousled.
“They don’t seem to be coming any closer.” Rhea leaned against the windowsill of the large picture window. “They just keep circling the edge of the drive.”
Phoebe yawned, nodding. “Rafe laid a protection spell when he left Saturday morning.”
Rhea turned around. “Saturday morning, huh?”
“We’re not going to joke about it, remember?”
“Yeah, but I can still leer, can’t I?”
“Just leer quietly to yourself.” Phoebe watched as the pack of coyotes trotted restlessly. Her vision had adjusted enough that they were monochromatic dog shapes instead of just glowing eyes. The baying seemed to be getting louder.
“I don’t think they like whatever magic Rafe used to keep them out.” Theia shivered, despite the tem
perature. “That big one keeps coming around to the front and snarling when he can’t get any closer.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the one I saw before, the one that attacked Glum.” Maybe he was the necromancer’s nagual and the others were just local coyotes drawn by his call. But they seemed to be moving with purpose, following his lead as the alpha. Could the necromancer compel shades to step into animals? She’d never heard of shades occupying non-human hosts before, but the coyotes had a familiar air to them now. There seemed to be three besides the alpha. Jacob, Lila and Ernesto? But Theia had said there were two in back, as well.
Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen windows, though she couldn’t see out at this distance. Maybe Barbara and Monique had been roped into this, too.
A little electrified frisson of recognition danced along her skin. “I think they’re shades.”
Rhea glanced at her. “Shades? Inhabiting coyotes?”
“The necromancer seems to be able to manipulate them in ways I’ve never heard of before. But the hair on my arms is standing on end, like there are shades near, even though none are trying to step in. And it’s the right number for some of the shades I’ve been dealing with. If you add my dead client.”
“Ugh.” Theia backed away from the window. “I don’t like this. Maybe we should call Di.”
Phoebe folded her arms. “Absolutely not. We’re grown-ups. I think we can handle a small pack of coyotes outside a locked house without running to Ione.”
“But if the spell doesn’t hold, there’s no telling what they might do. Ione might be able to help us strengthen it.”
“I said no.”
“Then we need to do something ourselves.” Rhea shared a look with her twin. “Maybe it’s time.” But Theia shook her head.
Phoebe glanced from one to the other. “Time for what?”
Theia answered after a moment of hesitation. “There’s a theory I’ve been working on. Rhe and I have been researching our family history.”
“On Dad’s side,” Rhea added. “Specifically, Greek history.”