Boundary Broken (Boundary Magic Book 4)

by Melissa F. Olson

  Startled, I blinked out of the boundary mindset, seeing the corpse clearly now. Behind me, both of the lower legs were convulsing, and the knowledge that I was straddling a dead body suddenly crashed into me. I started to swing one leg off her, but realized that if I moved, her spasming legs might cause me to let go of the chicken’s essence. I clenched my jaw and stayed put.

  Nellie’s quiet voice came to me from a few feet away. “Now, call her back.”

  Through gritted teeth, I pushed my words into the body—the same way I pressed vampires, or opened the gate to lay ghosts. “Come back.”

  Slowly, the woman’s eyelids dragged their way upward, fighting against the beginning of rigor mortis, which had already started in her face. Her pupils were as dilated as any I’d ever seen, and her eyes ticked around on the ceiling like her muscles had already forgotten what to do. I struggled to keep my magic working at her chest without actually dropping into my mindset. I needed to see her face.

  Her legs had stopped convulsing, but my position was too precarious to move away. “Ask her a question,” Nellie instructed, as though I were an idiot. “Your clock is ticking.”

  “What’s your name?” I blurted.

  The ticking eyes finally found mine, though she seemed to stare right through to my soul. “Kelly,” she said, her voice a mechanical croak.

  “Why were you working for Morgan Pellar, Kelly?”

  “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

  That confused me, and I almost lost my grip on her chest. I could already feel the stolen life force trying to seep out through my fingers. “Why doesn’t what hurt?”

  Kelly’s dead hand slowly rose, scratching lightly at her chest just above where I sat. “The wolf. There’s no itching. No hunger.”

  “You brought me a dead werewolf?” Nellie complained.

  I ignored her. To Kelly, I said, “You died, Kelly. The werewolf magic won’t bother you ever again. After you answer my questions, you can rest.”

  Her hand relaxed back down to her side. “Okay.”

  I had about a thousand questions, but I skipped to the most important one. “Where is Morgan Pellar?”

  “In the tunnels,” Kelly rasped without hesitation.

  “Where are the tunnels?”

  “Beneath Cheyenne.”

  I glanced up, past Nellie to Simon. He looked as baffled as I was. But the chicken’s life force was already slipping away; it was like trying to hold down steam. “Where is the tunnel entrance?”

  Her eyes ticked away, then back, a human gesture for trying to remember. “There are lots of them.” Her eyelids began to sink down.

  I dropped into my mindset to check the yellow life force. There was so little left. “Kelly! Which entrance is the closest?” I burst out.

  The eyes didn’t open any farther. “Central and Lincolnway.”

  I was already losing her. Nellie had said I’d have a few minutes, but maybe it worked differently if the sacrifice was sedated, or maybe I was just too new at this. I could feel the gossamer sliding away from me and I wished I’d prioritized my questions. There was so much I still didn’t understand.

  “Why were you helping Morgan?” I asked, desperate.

  “Money,” Kelly’s voice was still mechanical, but very quiet now. “Our pack needed money.”

  Simon’s voice rang out from behind Nellie. “Ask her where Morgan got the money!”

  He’d startled me; I almost lost it, struggled, got control again. “Where did Morgan get the money?” I demanded.

  “He gave it to her.”

  “Who did?”

  The last of the life bled out through my hands, but I was so focused on my question that I barely noticed. Then something very small gave way to my right, collapsing. Then another. And another. I dropped into my mindset and saw small drifts of yellow worming through the walls toward me.

  I’d killed something.

  “Let go, you damn fool!” Nellie hissed. She must have been able to see it too.

  I wasn’t sure how to disconnect, so I threw myself sideways, ripping my tattoos and my focus away from Kelly. When I looked back, her body seemed to have hardened into wax.

  Nellie disappeared for a moment, then blinked back. “You killed rats,” she announced. “Four of them.”

  Relief flooded me, but I could only nod. Then I turned my head sideways, away from the body, and puked. A lot.

  Nellie began to curse, using words I’d never heard—or at least never considered as fuel for expletives. It would have been impressive if I weren’t busy dry-heaving. I caught the words, “This is my son-of-a-bitchin’ home!”

  There was nothing else in my body to come up, but I didn’t respond. I could feel a bit of the boundary magic still inside me—I’d stolen more life from the rats than I’d pushed into Kelly. I had to do something with it, or I would get magic-drunk.

  So I put both hands on the floor and whispered the cleaning spell Simon had taught me. It did come in handy. The vomit disappeared—along with all the dirt, cobwebs, dust bunnies, and blood spatters from the chicken. The room was still old and shabby, but it was spotless.

  Nellie’s mouth fell open in shock, and for the first time since I’d met her, she was rendered speechless.

  “Time to disappear, Nellie,” I said, wishing my voice were stronger. “I’m calling an ambulance. You will allow them to come take my friend away without interference.”

  Her face tightened as she finally remembered herself. “The deal was to help you raise the dead, and I did that. You never said nothin’ about allowing humans in here.”

  “I have no. Fucking. Time for this,” I snapped. “I will come back and talk to you this week, but right now, get the hell out of my face.”

  Whatever she saw in my eyes convinced her, because Nellie blinked away immediately. I turned and crawled over to Simon. He had gotten paler, his olive skin an unnerving shade of green, and sweat had broken out over his face. The pain had to be pretty serious. I checked his forehead—not feverish, but clammy.

  “Are you okay?” he asked me.

  I had to smile. “I’ll be fine. Just a little nausea. Did your cell phone survive the fall?”

  “No idea.”

  I stood up and shone the flashlight around until I found Simon’s phone, which had tumbled down the stairs with him. There was a shallow crack on the screen, but the heavy-duty case seemed to have protected it from serious damage. I handed it to Simon, who unlocked it and handed it back.

  I went to his contacts and called Quinn.

  “Simon?” he answered, sounding worried. “What’s going on now?”

  “It’s me,” I began, but he broke in before I could go on.

  “Lex! Where are you? What the hell is—”

  “Quinn, listen: I’m going to call an ambulance to come to Nellie’s brothel and pick up Simon. I need you to get a vampire here to press the EMTs.” I glanced down at the floor. “Oh, and get rid of a werewolf body.”

  There was a pause of one heartbeat, and then my boyfriend exploded with questions. I had to practically shout him down. “There’s no time! Did you check on Charlie?”

  “Yes—Maven got Clara back on her feet; she’s outside Elise’s house. And Sashi called your cell. She’s in Boulder on her way to the hospital to help John.” He recited this quickly, sounding pissed. “Now, what happened to Simon?”

  “He fell down the stairs. Broken wrist, and I think a bad ankle sprain.” I thought of John’s injuries. “Possible internal damage. Go see him at the hospital; he can explain. I love you.”

  I hung up the phone. Simon opened his mouth, but I held up a finger, dialing 911. I gave the dispatcher the address and told her to send the paramedics around the back. Then I hung up on her, too, and handed the phone back to Simon.

  He gave me another wobbly smile. “What are you going to do?”

  “As soon as your ambulance gets here, I’m going to go up to Cheyenne to get Katia.” Morgan had said my aunt would be waiting at the Depot, b
ut I knew she wouldn’t risk that I’d show up without Charlie. One of her employees was probably stationed there as a trap.

  “Oh.” Simon’s eyes widened with understanding. “I’m an idiot. That’s why you quit Maven’s service.”

  I nodded. “If I don’t work for her, she’s not liable for my actions, in Wyoming or anywhere else.”

  He looked at me silently for a long moment. “You’re going to kill Morgan, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t answer. Morgan was expecting me to go along with her plan, so she would likely still be in Cheyenne when I got there. The odds that she’d let Katia go without a fight seemed pretty much nonexistent.

  My plan had been to send Simon to the meeting point at the Depot as a diversion, while I approached Morgan wherever she was hiding. But I was on my own now, and I wasn’t playing around.

  Simon saw most of this in my face. “I’m coming with you,” he said, struggling to sit up.

  “Whoa, hey.” He got even paler when he was sitting, but I helped him scoot back to the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You can’t come with me, Si. You can barely sit up.”

  “She’s my sister,” he insisted.

  “She’s killing people, Si,” I said heavily. “Or sending them to be killed.”

  I glanced back at the dead werewolf. Why doesn’t it hurt? I didn’t know anything about Kelly, and I wasn’t sorry that Clara had killed her to protect Charlie. But somewhere along the line, Kelly had been a victim too.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Simon released my hand so he could swipe at his eyes. “But she wasn’t always like this. She taught me how to swim . . .”

  “Oh, Simon.” I couldn’t hug him without hurting him, so I scooted to sit next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. He and Lily had been through a lot in the last few days, and so much of it had been for me. None of this was fair to them.

  “Wait, listen,” he said, his voice suddenly hopeful, “maybe we can convince the witches at the congress to bind her magic. Like Morgan’s been trying to do to all of us.”

  I lifted my head to look at him, considering it. “Is that possible?”

  “It’s expensive, and it will probably take a couple of days. They’ll have to find someone from out of state who can perform the ritual, and get at least a full coven to back them up, but . . . yeah, it’s possible.”

  I bit my lip, thinking. “Okay,” I said at last. “If you and Hazel can work on Maven, I will try to capture her instead of killing her.”

  He tilted his head back so he could study my face. “Promise me.”

  My heart sank. What were the chances that I could free Katia, capture Morgan without one of us dying, and get her all the way back to Boulder alive?

  Even if I managed it, I sort of doubted that Maven would let Morgan live a second time. She would have to face the consequences of her actions, and by bringing her to Maven in Colorado, I would more or less be delivering her to her executioner.

  But I wouldn’t be the executioner. Maybe that was cowardly, or splitting hairs, but I did not want to kill my friends’ sister. I was still messed up about werewolves because one werewolf had killed Sam.

  I took a deep breath. “You have my word that I will do everything in my power to bring your sister back alive.”

  “Thank you.” I’d rarely heard him sound this intense.

  “If I can, you’ll need to talk your mother into dropping the ward, so I can bring her back to Maven,” I pointed out.

  “I can do that,” he said fiercely. “But I’ll wait for your call.” Then: “What time is it?”

  I checked my watch. “Four twenty-five.”

  “Lex, you gotta go,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got my phone.”

  I wanted to argue, but he was right. Even if I got on the road right now, I’d need to drive like a bat out of hell to get there in time.

  “Okay. Do me a favor? See what you can find online about tunnels in Cheyenne?” I asked, standing up. “Maps or blueprints or whatever?”

  I felt bad about giving him work while he was hurt, but if anything, he looked relieved to have something to do. “You got it.”

  “There’s some extra burner phones in the back of the Jeep. I’ll call you from the road.”

  I was nearly to the door when Simon called after me. I turned around. “Tunnels,” he said, his forehead wrinkled. “You’re claustrophobic.”

  I sighed. “I know.”

  Chapter 39

  The last time I’d been to Cheyenne was about a year and a half earlier, when Charlie had become obsessed with a television show called Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood.

  The program was about a young tiger who rides around on a trolley visiting his friends, learning lessons about friendship, and being neighborly. I had watched many hours of it with Charlie, and for a few months it was the only thing she wanted to play, watch, or talk about.

  That spring my parents had gone on a vacation, and I’d taken care of Charlie for a week while John was at work. After a few days of visiting our favorite Boulder spots, I started casting about for something new to do—and discovered that Cheyenne has a trolley tour.

  When Morgan had instructed me to meet her at the historic depot, I’d known exactly where that was, because I’d been there with my niece. The people of Cheyenne—or at least the nice folks who ran the trolley tours—were crazy about the Depot, because it showcased Cheyenne’s whole reason for existing: the railroads. Cheyenne had been chosen as a major stop on the First Transcontinental Railroad, which was a big deal in this part of the west.

  It was cold, but there was no snow or ice on the roads, so I drove the big Jeep pretty recklessly all the way to the state line, doing my best to ignore the remnants. There are always plenty of ghosts on the highways, but I forced myself to blow right through them, absorbing the occasional emotional impact when one of them actually touched me. It was unsettling as hell, and I wished I’d thought to bring my mahogany obsidian, which protected me from psychic attacks. The remnants would still have been visible, but they wouldn’t have been able to get inside my head. I’d never gotten in the practice of carrying the obsidian, though, because it also blocked Sam’s voice. So I gritted my teeth and concentrated on not swerving the Jeep.

  As I passed the rock formations and big metal bison silhouette that marked the border to Wyoming, I finally had to slow down. Maven didn’t have any pull with the police in Wyoming. I had, I realized, gotten very used to Maven’s support and protection. Even when I’d gone alone to face Lysander, an insanely powerful conduit, I’d done so with the reassurance that I had Maven’s name behind me. Now I was on my own, and I couldn’t even call my friends for help without causing political problems.

  This sucked.

  When I was about ten miles outside Cheyenne, driving within the speed limit now, I called Simon’s cell with one of the burner phones.

  “Hello?” Simon was talking loudly to be heard over what sounded like hospital noises. Part of me relaxed a little. I hadn’t liked leaving him alone in Nellie’s brothel.

  “Hey, it’s me. What did the doctor say?”

  “Lex!” Simon sounded relieved too. “Hey. They think it’s just the sprained ankle and broken wrist, but they’re gonna do a scan—hey! I’m talking to—ow!”

  There was a small commotion, and then Lily’s voice came on the line. “Lex? What the hell is going on?”

  “Lily!” I felt myself smiling like an idiot. It was so good to hear her voice. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay!” She sounded furious. “I feel like crap! A bunch of asshole goons showed up at Si’s place and beat the shit out of Katia, and they held a gun on her until I drank fuckin’ belladonna, and apparently it was all orchestrated by my own fucking sister—”

  “Lily,” I broke in. I was approaching the Cheyenne exits. “I’m really glad you’re awake, but Simon has information that I need, and I’m out of time here.”

  “Ugh. Fine.” She grumbled, b
ut gave Simon the phone again. He came back on the line and said, “Okay, the tunnels are kind of a weird situation. A bunch of conspiracy-type websites suggest there are tunnels underneath much of downtown, built at the same time as the railroad. They might have just been transportation in the winter, but my guess is that they’re steam tunnels, which used the waste steam from the railroad boilers to heat parts of downtown Cheyenne. Plenty of cities used to do something similar: Milwaukee, DC—”

  I cut him off before he could get rolling. “Okay, so what’s the weird part?”

  “There’s no official information on the tunnels anywhere online, and I haven’t found a single photograph. A lot of sources suggest the whole existence of tunnels is just a rumor. It’s like they’re ashamed of them or something.”

  I frowned. “That’s weird.” Colorado was littered with tunnels, both the legitimate ones built for mining and the illegal ones built for illicit activities. A hundred-some years ago, a brothel like Nellie’s would probably have had an underground entrance, for example, and bored miners had built plenty of secret tunnels during Prohibition to smuggle booze around. There were times when I was shocked that the entire state hadn’t collapsed down a hundred feet.

  But in Colorado, all that was celebrated public knowledge. There was a whole industry built around the shady parts of the state’s past, and you could pay to take tours of many of those old tunnels. Some of them were too dangerous to visit, of course, but it struck me as odd that Cheyenne denied the tunnels’ existence altogether.

  “Yeah, well, I think there’s something fishy there, like a humans-go-away spell, or some kind of payoff to city officials to keep the tunnels out of the public eye,” Simon went on, his voice lowered. He sounded frustrated. “If I had more time, I could probably come up with some primary sources, but the bottom line is that I can’t get you any maps or anything. Assuming the tunnels are real, you’re going in blind.”

  Shit.

  “Lex,” he continued, pain in his voice, “maybe this is a bad idea.”

  “You think I should just let her kill Katia?”

  “Of course not,” he replied with irritation. “But maybe you should just go to the meeting spot at the Depot. Morgan might be willing to negotiate.”