by C. E. Murphy
Her cameraman, obviously offended, said, “So did I,” then looked faintly guilty at four or five empty boxes spread around him.
Corvallis laughed. “I’ve never seen you turn food down, Paul.”
“If you were the one lugging that camera up and down mountains in your wake...” he said with the cadence of a familiar and unmeant complaint.
I said, “Paul,” under that, just audibly enough to be heard. He raised his eyebrows and I made a face. “I didn’t know your name. Sorry.”
“Nobody does. She’s the talent. I just make her look good.”
“It’s true,” Laurie said with a degree of fondness I’d never have attributed to her. It disappeared instantly into a piercing look at me. “So what’s the plan, Joanne?”
“I filled her in while you were showering,” Coyote said. “It didn’t seem like there was any reason not to.”
That was an unassailable argument, even if I had the vague, uncomfortable feeling that one shouldn’t go around confessing all the complications of the magical life to a reporter. I said, “The plan,” like saying the words would make one leap fully formed into my mind, then blew out a breath that verged on being a raspberry. “We’re going to Woodland Park. Suzy tracked the leanansidhe’s retreat to there, and it makes sense. We—” My cell phone rang, startling me into silence. Practically everybody I knew who might call me was in this room. “Um. I have the horrible feeling that might be important. ’Scuze me.” I left a half-finished plate of Mongolian beef balanced on the arm of the couch and went to dig the phone out of my trench pocket.
An unfamiliar male voice said, “Joanne Walker?”
I frowned and retreated to the kitchen, not that a doorway and pass-through wall provided much in the way of silence or privacy. The gathering in the living room quieted down, which was polite, but also meant they could hear every word of my conversation. “Yes?”
An explosive sigh came down the line. “This is Lieutenant Dennis Gilmore. We met in North Carolina, if you remember?”
“Yes. Yes.” I put one hand on the counter, clutching it for balance. “Yes, of course I remember you.” Lieutenant Gilmore had been his unit’s only survivor of Raven Mocker’s attack. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing, exactly. I just wanted to let you know we’ve found Daniel Little Turtle’s body in Arizona.”
My stomach twisted so hard it cut the strength from my knees as I ran through every worst-case scenario I could. I knew people in Arizona. Coyote was from Arizona. I looked at him, reassuring myself he was really here. “Arizona? Where in Arizona? What was he doing there?”
Coyote straightened, flicking black hair down his spine in an action strangely reminiscent of his coyote-form’s ears twitching with concern. He got up and came to the other side of the counter, leaning on it like he, too, needed bracing.
“Phoenix, ma’am.”
I crouched, fingers of one hand wrapped around the counter’s edge and my forehead pressed against it beside them. My question came out as a thready whisper. “Mark Bragg?”
The beat of silence was worse than any confirmation could have been. Gilmore said, “Missing, ma’am,” in cautious tones.
“It’s not fair.” I was hardly aware of having spoken aloud. I was aware that I had begun gently hitting my forehead against the counter’s edge, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Mark Bragg had been a researcher at the University of Phoenix. He’d gotten tangled up in one of my messes, and his twin sister had died of it. He was supposed to be safe in Arizona. Far away from me and the trouble that walked with me.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re looking for him. His image has been forwarded to the airports and he’ll be detained if he tries to fly.”
My forehead was starting to hurt, but it didn’t stop me from calculating the hours it took to drive from Arizona to Seattle. Lieutenant Gilmore continued speaking as white sparks began showing in my vision, the maybe not-so-gentle impacts starting to have effect. “It appears Daniel Little Turtle did fly, although we’d flagged him, too, ma’am. We just weren’t fast enough.”
“Why’d he go to Arizona?” I whispered. “Why not come straight here?”
Gilmore cleared his throat. “It may have occurred to him that we’d be looking for him coming off a flight to Seattle, ma’am. You did warn me.”
A broken laugh caught in the roof of my mouth. “Lieutenant, what are you telling your superiors about this?”
“The official story remains that there was a disease outbreak in Qualla Boundary, ma’am. My superiors are concerned with finding Patient Zero, that’s all. We’re still working with the CDC to make certain the incident remains contained. We will continue to do so until Mark Bragg is located and it’s determined whether he’s infected and contagious.” Gilmore hesitated. “Ma’am, why didn’t the infection spread among the air travelers on the plane with Little Turtle?”
“You want the official line or the answer?” I stopped hitting my head because it interfered with thinking, and Gilmore deserved me to be firing on all cylinders for this.
“I’ll take both.”
“Officially, it’s spread through touch, and if no one else is infected, we’re lucky. The real answer is that first off, you can’t make wraiths from people who are still alive. But more importantly, Raven Mocker is trying to find a host strong enough to contain him, and I think spreading himself out right now would do him more harm than good.”
“Is Mark Bragg strong enough?”
“No. But if Danny got Raven Mocker halfway across the country, Mark can probably get it up to Seattle.”
“And what happens there, ma’am?”
“I take care of it.”
Another silence followed my response. Then Gilmore said, carefully, “Ma’am, would it be...better...if we were unable to apprehend Mark Bragg?”
“Yeah.”
I could just about hear his next promotion going down the drain in the crispness of his voice: “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll keep that in mind. And if I may say so...”
“Say away. God knows you’ve earned the right.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Good luck, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” I thumbed the phone off and pressed my forehead against the counter again, then hit it a few more times for good measure.
Coyote eventually said, “Jo?” which made me look up.
The whole gang was gathered on the far side of the counter and in the kitchen doorway, peering at me with nervous concern. “You should all go away from me,” I said flatly. “Go away and stay away, because I’m a bad luck magnet like nothing I’ve ever dreamed.”
“And who will protect us from your enemy if we go?” Annie asked with a hint of humor.
I wished I had any to share. Instead I said, “Danny Little Turtle was found dead in Mark Bragg’s house,” to Morrison, the only one I was sure knew all the players right now.
His face fell, though he recovered quickly. “Where’s Bragg?”
“Missing. Presumably on his way here.”
“Who is Mark Bragg?” Corvallis cut to the heart of the matter, and I let Morrison make the brief explanation about Mark and his sister’s involvement in the previous summer’s Blue Flu. Laurie glanced between us, her mouth pursed. “Sounds like being a thousand miles away isn’t any protection anyway, Joanne.”
“Thank you. Thank you, Laurie, that makes me feel a lot better.”
“It makes me feel better,” Suzy mumbled. “I’d rather be here where I can maybe do something to help instead of hiding out a jillion miles away knowing the bad guy could come for me anyway.”
“Kid’s got a point,” Gary said. “C’mon, Jo. This don’t change anything, except maybe giving this Raven Mocker a face. An’ that’s good, ain’t it? ’Cause at least we know who we’re lookin’ out for.”
“Yeah,” I said, knowing exactly how petty and nasty I sounded, “but I liked Mark. I didn’t like Danny.”
Morrison was the only one who looked dis
approving. “You’re better than that, Walker. Now get up and let’s get down to business.”
I got up, although I wasn’t the least bit sure I was better than that. I didn’t want anybody to be dead because of me, but Danny’s own anger and hurt had made him a great temporary host for Raven Mocker. It was bad enough that had killed him. Mark Bragg hadn’t invited any of this onto himself. He’d just gotten caught up in my world. If I had to pick and choose, at least I could see some kind of cruel cosmic justice in Danny’s fate. Mark flat-out didn’t deserve any of it. “I hate this.”
“None of us love it. Maybe you can save him,” Coyote said quietly. “It’s what you do, Jo. Don’t give up faith yet.”
“Okay.” I nodded once, then rubbed my fingers over the tender spot on my forehead. “Woodland Park. The leanansidhe’s probably going to be sucking as much residual power as she can out of the half-finished power diamond the banshees left there. She needs a host. I’m sure she needs a host. So if she finishes that circle she might be able to draw one there. Someone vulnerable.” My stomach curdled again. “Morrison, have you heard from Billy?”
Morrison shook his head and walked away, cell phone already in his hand. Gary snorted. “Holliday ain’t the vulnerable type, sweetheart.”
“Gary, everybody who’s close to me is the vulnerable type right now. I wish to hell I had—”
My mother. For the first and only time in my life, I wanted my mother. My father would have been handy, too, but Mom had brought the fight to the Master in a way Dad clearly never had. She was a mage, a fighter, and I wanted somebody I knew could fill those shoes. Somebody who could protect my friends while I took myself into battle.
“Joanne,” Laurie said into my silence, “everybody in this room has decided being at your side is the safer, smarter or more interesting place to be right now. I understand that you feel like you need to protect all of us, but with the exception of Suzy Q there, we’re all competent, capable adults. You need to stop thinking about how to protect us and start thinking about how to use us.”
I stared at Laurie, vaguely offended. Suzy Q was my nickname for Suzanne, although I imagined anybody who’d ever heard of the song or the snack cake probably used it, too. It was no doubt completely in character for Laurie to use it.
I was offended anyway, and took it out on her in snappy tones. “And how am I supposed to use you, Laurie? You’re almost completely on the outside of this. You don’t have any skills I can use here. You’ve seen a few things most people would dismiss. Why won’t you be smart, and get out of here?”
“You’re wrong. I don’t have any magic, but I have something you can use.”
“What?”
A faint cold smile curved Laurie’s mouth. “Nerves of steel.”
I started to protest, then thought about her lying in the snow, my spear so close to piercing her heart that I’d drawn blood. She hadn’t flinched. I said, “Shit,” under my breath, and triumph flared through her smile.
“Tell you what.” She turned and whirled a finger at the cameraman like she was gathering him up and pointing him toward the door. “You get out of here, Paul. I know your nerves are as good as mine, but we can’t use the footage, anyway, and it’ll make our urban shaman here feel better.”
I said, “Your what?” in quiet dismay, barely able to hear myself under Paul’s protests and threats that he would bill the station for a full day’s work anyway. He stole three more spring rolls on the way out the door, though, so I thought most of the protesting was pro forma. At least it meant being rid of one of them. Nerves of steel or not, I was considering whacking Laurie over the head and leaving her tied up in the bedroom to keep her safe when Morrison returned with his mouth set in a thin straight line.
“Holliday’s not answering his phone. I called down to the crime scene and nobody’s seen him. I think we’d better get down to that park.”
Chapter Thirteen
Suddenly the forty-five minutes for a shower and food seemed like an unnecessary luxury. I tried stuffing that thought back into my brain and ran for the door. Five adults and a mostly grown teen followed, and for a minute we were a latter-day Keystone Cops struggling into the hall. I popped free and the rest of the knot loosened, though Morrison, from the middle of it, muttered, “We’re not all going to fit in the rental. Where’s your cab, Muldoon?”
“Back at Seattle General. I didn’t think of driving it, what with pullin’ off the great escape.”
Laurie perked up. “Escape?”
I gave her a quelling glare that did nothing to quell her as we thumped down five flights of stairs. I was used to going on adventures with one or two compadres. Having half a dozen of us was starting to feel silly, but I needed Coyote’s expertise, had to keep Annie and Suzy close, and could hardly ditch Morrison or Gary at this late stage of the game. I sent another glare Laurie’s way, just in case she might take the hint and depart for greener pastures, but I was wasting my time.
“Call Keith,” I suggested to Gary. “Have him drop a spare cab off at Woodland Park. We’re going to need it eventually.”
“You call him, doll. Pretty young things get told yes a lot more than old dogs do.”
“Yeah, but I’ll have to buy him flowers.” I pulled my phone out and made the call, anyway, while Suzy volunteered, “I can sit on somebody’s lap,” with the casual air of someone young enough to still do that sort of thing frequently.
Laurie sized herself up compared to everybody else and sighed. “So can I.”
“I can’t drive a rented vehicle rated for five with seven people in it!”
I lifted my eyebrows at Morrison. “You’re the captain of this precinct’s police department. Who’s going to ticket you?”
His upper lip worked in a way I recognized of old as preceding a top-blowing explosion. It made his mouth look very kissable, which came as something of a relief. I hadn’t been losing my mind all those times I’d thought that, back in the day. But he pulled the rant back under control and, with the expression of a man who knew when to give up a fight, gestured for us to all pile into the car. I finished asking Keith at Tripoli Cabs to send a spare car and joined the muddle.
Annie, by dint of being the most fragile in our collective perception, got to ride shotgun, while Laurie, to her obvious delight, sat on Coyote’s lap. Coyote didn’t look too upset about it, either, and I told myself firmly that it was no longer my business. Shaking my head at unpredictable jealousy, I squished into the center seat while Suzy sat on Gary’s lap, put an arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek, charming him completely. Once we were buckled and settled to the best of our ability, I grunted, “To the park, James.”
Morrison shot a startled look at me over his shoulder and I let out a laugh that was too big for the space I was squeezed into. “Sorry. I wasn’t being funny. I actually forgot about that. To the park, Morrison, and be quick about it. Or I’m going to asphyxiate.”
Gary and Coyote both tried scootching away at that complaint, and for an eighth of a second I could breathe again. Then they relaxed and I got smooshed, but I was a big girl. I could handle a little not-breathing for a while. I kept telling myself that the whole drive over, while Laurie persisted in asking Morrison what I’d meant by I forgot about that. Morrison, exasperated, finally said, “You’re a reporter, Corvallis. Look it up online if you’re so curious.”
Laurie looked sullen but subsided as we once more poured out of the vehicle, this time at Woodland Park. I broke away from the crowd, my feet determined to run even if my mind thought I should be hanging back to be the newly appointed superhero Protection Girl.
I didn’t get far anyway. We’d come in from the parking lot nearest to the baseball diamond that had been a murder site last winter. My greatest fear was finding the Marcia-shaped leanansidhe laying down new bodies on the old sites, and closing the circle to gain power of her own.
My imagination clearly did not reach far enough.
Ashen-faced people stood along the b
aseball diamond’s lines, just far enough apart that their extended arms didn’t quite touch their neighbors’ fingertips. Dozens of them, more than I could count at a glance. They all faced inward, and all trembled as if a great force was pulling them ever closer together. Their auras stretched from their bodies, glimmering faintly between each other but mostly dragged toward the pitcher’s mound, where the Marcia-shaped leanansidhe stood with her head thrown back and her arms spread. She was translucent, the people on the far side of her wobblingly visible through her semi-solid body.
Billy Holliday stood alone with the creature’s shape, his arms wrapped around it as though he could contain all the hatred in the world within the compass of his embrace.
His shields were like nothing I’d ever seen from Billy, so bright, so fierce, that I had to Look twice. It was his colors, orange and fuchsia, but there was something else supporting them. Not Melinda, who was sunshine-yellow and orange, but something more than just Billy allowed him to hold the struggling leanansidhe in place.
It wasn’t enough. Threads of the life force she dragged from the gathered adepts slipped through the shields, strengthening her with every passing moment. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she hadn’t already taken him, with his gift of seeing and speaking with spirits, but I was grateful for the small favor. His grip shifted, changing to try to contain her as she fought, and I thought he didn’t have much more time.