by Linda Welch
“I wonder why did he did that?” she asked.
She spoke unhurriedly and her voice stroked me, a velvety hand. Surely I should not experience such sensuality from another person in my current form.
Chris angled forward and all but salivated. Maggie’s eyes turned big and moist. And Royal . . . a tiny smile softened the hard set of his mouth.
“I am Angelina. Do come in.” She stepped aside.
We found ourselves in an elegant reception room with deep-piled carpet in muted tones. A full-length mirror framed in pale marble hung beside a closed door on our right. A single marble pedestal table supported a huge iridescent abalone shell. Angelina led us through an archway. “We’ll be more comfortable in the lounge.”
Maggie audibly sniffed as we passed the closed door. “How odd.”
“What?”
“Salt water, like the ocean, yet there’s a hint of anemone and ginger.”
Angelina waited in front of a long sofa when we followed Chris into a small lounge decorated in pastel blues and pale aqua-greens, delicate rose and vibrant coral, with furniture upholstered in tufted rose silk and fern in terracotta pots on the smooth tiled floor. A flounced satin shade covered the one window, floor lamps cast pearly light. It was calming.
“May I offer you refreshments?”
“Thank you, but there is no need,” said Royal.
“I insist.” She swayed to a door in the back wall. “In some cultures, refusing to share refreshments with your host is considered an insult.”
Before anyone could reply, she added, “Tea? Excellent! Do sit. I won’t be a moment.”
All three exchanged looks. Maggie twitched one shoulder and sat on an armchair. Royal perched on the edge of the sofa. Chris took another armchair. Their relaxed posture made suspicion prickle inside me. Too relaxed for people in an unstable situation.
Angelina returned quickly and gracefully lowered to the sofa. “The kettle’s on, it won’t be long.” Again, more than merely sit, she languidly arranged herself.
Her gaze skipped from Chris to Royal. “My, are all your people as handsome?”
“Stop. Your wiles will not work on me,” Royal said, but with a lilt in his voice.
She let her head fall back as a chuckle welled in her throat and accompanied it by resting her arms along the low sofa-back, a posture which emphasized her breasts by stretching the material of her dress. “So I found with Felipe. Ah, Felipe,” she mused, “a pleasant if too brief flirtation. So refreshing, a man who willingly entertained our little dalliance.” She shivered. “A delicious novelty.”
Dalliance? She and Felipe had an affair?
She smiled at Royal with pearly white teeth and winked. “You can’t blame a girl for trying, darling.” She touched her chin with two fingers. “You do feel it, don’t you?”
“A little,” he agreed.
What was going on? Royal looked more at ease than since the start of this whole thing, but instead of making me glad, my blood boiled.
“She has put a geas on us,” he said, I guess for my and Maggie’s benefit.
“Geas?” Angelina dipped her head slightly on one side. “Did Felipe remember nothing? You feel my natural magic.”
That word again: magic.
“Let me guess.” Chris was all hot breath and I figured his obsession had nothing to do with any spell. Chris was just being Chris. “You are a siren, a temptress.”
She made a face. “That sounds so banal. I am an enchantress.”
He leaned on his knees, his damp silver-gray and black hair slipping over his shoulders. “You have positively enchanted me.”
“Sweet man,” she crooned.
“Your, um, relationship with Felipe. . . .”
Her deep sigh pushed her breasts out again. “Perhaps we can discuss it in private?”
Chris made a sad face. “Alas, time is not on our side.”
“There is always time to . . . cement new friendships.”
Now just one cotton picking minute. The reason we came had nothing to do with Chris getting into Angelina’s panties. I risked letting go of Maggie and took a couple of steps. Finding I could move freely, I scooted to the couch and got in Angelina’s face. “Maggie, you tell her. . . .” I couldn’t find the right words to tell the woman what I thought of her.
Wearing what felt like a huge, ugly scowl, I glanced back at Maggie. Gaze pasted on Angelina, body hunched, lips parted, smitten, she wasn’t listening to me, anyway. Angelina had fixed her attention on my sidekick.
“What a sweet thing you are,” the witch said. “You can no more resist me than a goblin can resist gold. Come, little one.”
To my horror, Maggie slid off the chair and fell to her knees in front of Angelina.
“Royal! Chris! Do something!” I yelled. Agh! I needed my voice.
I squatted beside Maggie. “Maggie, listen to me. Snap out of it!” I might as well have kept my mouth shut. She didn’t hear me any more than the guys did. I tangled my fingers in her aura, hoping touch would make a difference. “Maggie!”
The woman hooked a finger under Maggie’s chin and raised it as she looked into her besotted eyes. Then she jerked her hand away. “What is this? There are two of them!”
Maggie blinked, looked up and deep red suffused her face. She shuffled away and up on the armchair. Relieved she’d regained her senses, I released her again.
Royal came halfway off the sofa. “You see her?”
“Her? I feel someone. But what is she, clinging to a human girl?”
“The woman I love.” Royal surged to his feet.
Angelina twisted to look at him. “I don’t understand.”
Royal swallowed as he tried to find the right words.
“She was shot in the head,” Chris said. “Her body is in our world. What you sense is her shade. Maggie speaks for her.”
“Shade? You mean ghost?” One of Angelina’s eyebrows spiked. “I have not experienced this before.”
“Perhaps because the circumstances are remarkable,” Chris offered.
“May I speak to her?”
At last! I’d had enough of being a one-man audience. “Tell her to keep her claws away from Royal.”
Maggie shut her eyes. “I’d appreciate any help you can give us.”
“What? Maggie!”
“The man who arranged the incident which pushed me out of my skin led us here.”
“Okay, so maybe it was a tiny little teensy bit rude of me. But seeing her bat her eyelashes at Royal makes me want to rip her face off.”
“He’s with a guy who calls himself a mage and says he can reverse the process,” Maggie continued blithely.
“Wait till I get back in my skin, Magenta Benson.” I threw up my hands.
After slanting a puzzled look at Maggie, Chris filled in the details. A range of emotions traveled over Angelina’s countenance as he told her our story.
She pressed her lips together, then said, “I am aware of Dagka Shan. But Mage Arthemy . . . blood magic is an evil practice, more so when used to shape souls. I have sensed a disturbance in the ether for some time now.”
“The ether?” I asked through Maggie.
“Downside is more than a haven, it is sentient, and this sentience is essentially the magic which created our habitat and holds the fabric of our world together.”
“Oh. Magic. Naturally.” I force out a cough. “Explains everything.”
Sadly, Maggie couldn’t convey my snarkiness but I gave her points for trying.
“You really don’t understand,” Angelina said softly. She leaned back. “You saw our people in the streets. Yes, people, though in your Upside world they would be called creatures, animals, monstrosities, freaks. Their forefathers came to Downside thousands of years ago to escape the burgeoning human population.”
Creatures of myth and fantasy driven underground by the human invasion is a favorite theme of the fantasy genre, but to see them, real, in the flesh. . . .
She waved as
if to fend off any protest before it could leave my mouth. “There is more evil than good in those who live here, it’s their nature, and after all Downside was created for them. But black magic, blood magic, is perverse and dangerous.”
“Can the mage do as he claims, replace Tiff’s soul in her body?” Royal asked.
“Undoubtedly, but blood magic invariably involves a summoning.”
“Summoning?” from Chris.
“Demons. And before you scoff, they are real. Confined to the Netherworlds, they are glad of any chance to break free.”
Her smooth brow creased. “Downside opened the Gate for you.”
“Royal refused to come without Maggie and the Station Master wouldn’t let him in with Maggie along. Royal threatened the guards with his gun. And the door opened,” I said. “The Station Master swore he didn’t do it but we figured he didn’t want the guards hurt.”
“I don’t think that’s why, and the Station Master did not let you through.” Her frown deepened. She waved her forefinger and pointed it at Royal and Chris. “Downside opened the door. It wants you. It is not a god, it does not control nor bless us but it will take steps to protect this world if it’s threatened. I believe Shan and the mage have an agenda to which you’re not privy, one which imperils Downside. It wants you here and why else than to take care of this problem?”
“How do we deal with a strategy we know nothing of?” Royal asked.
“Go to the root, Dagka Shan, and pluck it out.”
“Take him from Downside? A tall order. Shan is unlike ordinary men, we cannot subdue him.”
“Then kill him.” Angelina lifted one shoulder.
“I would like nothing better, but then what of Tiff?”
“Arthemy will work for the highest bidder. Offer him more than Shan did and he’ll work his magic on your woman. When Shan is dead and the woman returned to her body, kill the mage.”
Beautiful, and coldblooded. “I see a couple of problems. To kill Shan we have to get to him and for that we need Lawrence with us. And I’m with Royal in this, we can’t bring the kid here. Second, Shan is nearly impossible to kill.”
“Nearly?”
“He is. . . .” Royal hesitated before sharing one of the Cousin’s secrets. “His kind can regenerate. Given time, any wound will heal. The one way to kill him is remove his head from his body and make sure they are never rejoined. But he is uncannily fast, strong and vicious.”
“Hm, let me think.” Angelina shut her eyes and sat there, tapping a perfect fingernail on her perfect teeth. Then she smiled and opened her eyes. “Shan is a monster. You need help from someone experienced in dealing with monsters and I know just the two. But they, too, will demand a price.”
“I’ll pay anything,” Royal said.
“What do you mean by dealing with?” Chris asked.
“It depends. For ghouls, death is the solution. Small irritants such as pixies can be captured and relocated to more suitable environments. Rain and River specialize in this line of work.”
Ghouls? Pixies?
“And they can kill Shan?”
“No guarantees, yet I do believe they’re your best choice.” Angelina slunk off the sofa and went to a small roll-top desk. She opened it and took out a paper pad and pencil. “I’ll write their address and directions.” She began to write, then crumpled the paper in her hand. “Better yet, I’ll get someone to drive you.”
She tossed the paper on the desk and walked into the hall. “Micah, do be a darling and come here,” she called. “And put some clothes on. We have guests.”
“Coming, my love,” a voice boomed from behind the closed door.
Chris deliberately cleared his throat. “My love?”
“Micah and I have been friends for a very long time. We are fond of each other, nothing more.” Angelina flapped one hand dismissively.
The man who came through the door took my breath away. Not because he was a handsome specimen, tall and slender with a model’s cheekbones, and he must have stepped from a tub and dressed without drying first for his brilliantly white silk shirt and pants clung to him damply.
He was green. Wet, dark-green hair dripped over his back and green distinctly tinged his olive skin.
Angelina went to him and palmed his cheek, and he leaned into her hand. His right hand slid down her spine and cupped her buttock.
With a throaty chuckle, Angelina reach back and lightly smacked his hand. “Naught boy.”
Studying a potted fern, Chris pretended he didn’t see their interaction. I would have felt sorry for him, except his flagrant infatuation with her sort of piqued me.
“Drive them to Rain’s apartment,” she told Micah.
“What is he?” I said.
“Beats me,” Maggie replied in a subdued voice.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“I was attracted to her,” she said so quietly I barely heard her.
“Welcome to the gang. I don’t think any of us escaped unscathed.”
“Not you, too.”
“I felt something when we first came in. Didn’t like it.”
“I don’t—” Maggie swallowed her words as she noticed every eye on her. She glared. “Are we leaving or what?”
“Yes, do take them, Micah,” Angelina said. She cupped her cheeks in her palms. “Oh dear, I forgot the tea. Another time, perhaps. I’ll be happy to see you again, if you’re so inclined.” Her invitation encompassed everyone, but her gaze lingered on Chris.
As we followed Micah, she said, “And be sure to tell Rain and River I recommended them.”
The room we entered must have spread over the rest of the first floor and contained a swimming pool more than thirty feet square surrounded by marble tiles. Perfumed water gently sloshed against the sides. Two stools with soft white seats sat near it, and fluffy white towels overflowed from a cabinet.
“This way.” Micah led us along the wall to a door.
Chris looked at the pool. “A swimming pool, in an apartment?”
“Did she not mention it?” Micah said. “Angelina and I are mers.” He grinned at Chris’ perplexed expression. “Yes, mer, as in mermaid and merman.”
Chapter Twenty
Maggie was quiet during the drive through Gettaholt. She didn’t look through the car windows at the amazing scenery.
“What’s bothering you?” I asked after the un-Maggie-like silence began to puzzle me.
“She said kill him and everyone agreed without hesitation. Now you’re going to talk to someone about doing it for you.”
Royal and Chris didn’t suspect she spoke to me. “The Cousins should have executed him years ago,” Chris said.
Royal said, “If killing Shan troubles you, think of it as the execution of a vicious murderer, restitution for the lives he took, the suffering and anguish he caused.”
I thought back to Royal’s and my brief exchange inside the coffee shop. “In the café, when I told Royal we should go home, I said it because I know he’ll go back to Dagka Shan and try to kill him if we don’t find an alternative. Royal knew what I meant, and refused. Maggie, Shan didn’t go to all this trouble simply to talk to Lawrence. Something else is going on. And no matter Shan’s assurances to the contrary, Royal is in terrible danger. Hush,” I said before she could speak. “He’s desperate. He’ll do anything to save me, even try to kill Shan.”
A low breathy, “Oh,” escaped her.
“And if you’re wondering if I’m okay with it. . . .” I swallowed hard. “I’m not. I’m terrified of what Shan may do. The game has changed, Maggie. The way I see it, what we’re doing is no longer about me, it’s about stopping Shan before he hurts Royal. I’d sooner spend eternity in this condition than let him die because of me.”
I gazed upon the drenched streets. If Rain and River couldn’t help, perhaps I should disappear. It would be easy, release the aura I clung to and walk through a wall, long gone minutes later. They’d never find me in Gettaholt. Then Royal need not risk h
is life for me.
But he would spend the rest of his days Downside, looking for me.
The apartment building looked old, an unadorned rectangular block eight floors high. Brick showed through in patches where once white plaster had crumbled away.
I stop walking so suddenly, my legs tried to tangle.
“Maggie,” I whispered, then lifted my voice. “Maggie!”
She turned on the step. “What? I’m sorry, Tiff. Didn’t know you lost me.” She stepped down.
“No. Wait! Stay there.” I closed the distance between us.
“You can move!”
I grinned enormously. I had stepped from the car and followed the others without a thought to the fact I did it on my own. I didn’t need to cling to an aura, I moved independently.
“That’s great.”
“Yeah.” Pleased as punch, I spun a circle.
She quickly explained to Royal and Chris as we trudged up the first flight of stairs.
Royal acknowledged with a nod. “Watch her. This is new territory for Tiff, we don’t know what affects her mobility,” he warned.
He had a point. For all we knew my ability to move might work oppositely to how it did at home. Perhaps I could walk freely in the streets but not inside a building. Bearing this in mind, worried my feet would decide to stick to the floor, I held Maggie’s aura as we ascended three flights of stairs. On the first and second, to get to the next staircase, we turned along a corridor running the breadth of the building, lined with a dozen doors. The apartment we looked for faced the staircase on the third floor. Royal rapped on the door but nobody answered.
“What now?” Maggie asked.
“We wait,” Royal said.
“I’ll see if there’s an exit to the roof. Perhaps I can spot The Station from there.” Chris strode off along the corridor.
Good idea. We didn’t know whereabouts in Gettaholt Micah took us.
Royal and Maggie sat on the steps outside the apartment. I leaned on the wall. We waited fifteen minutes and got to wondering if these people would return today, when a petite girl came around the corner of the staircase, her chin-length blue-black hair slicked by the rain. With white skin, big dark eyes and pixie features, she looked Goth in a long black leather coat, a black T-shirt, black jeans and black boots. Behind her, a tall young man wore similar clothes, except black and red patterned his T-shirt. Pale skin, dark eyes, long black hair so fine it draped his shoulder and cobwebbed over his eyes; they glinted dark amethyst behind the strands.