Because I was a terrible person, I couldn’t help poking at her. “And everything, huh?”
“I’m not that kind of girl.” A loud groan escaped her. “I lied, Hadley. Oh God, I am that kind of girl. I want to climb that man like a Christmas tree and plant a star on top of his head.”
That was a new one for me. “Thank you for ruining Christmas.”
A loud snorted laugh blasted the receiver. “Like you don’t want to—”
“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. Hold it in. If you can’t do it for me, do it for Tiny Tim.”
“You’re an innocent babe in a manger, aren’t you?”
“Do not bring Jesus into this.”
As a necromancer who attended public school with humans, I was well versed in Christianity. I even picked and chose from their bigger holidays to celebrate as much for fun as habit. Lisbeth’s fixation on Christmas trees didn’t mean she was a Christian, but she often wore a pair of earrings with small golden crosses, which implied that’s how she leaned spiritually.
I showed others’ religions the respect I showed my own, even that one guy who worshipped—I kid you not—a package of beef franks whose brand stickers had peeled off since it hit the dumpster where he found it. He swore it was a divine message on not labeling others, and no. That didn’t stop him from eating his gods a week later. Then almost dying from food poisoning. Under the circumstances, it counted as divine retribution, I guess?
That said, I hoped she didn’t think I was being flip about her religion. Then again, she started it.
Jesus would know that, right?
“Okay, I’m seriously not that kind of girl.” Lisbeth tried for prim. “I’m not going to bring baby Jesus into this conversation.”
“You just did.”
“Dang it.”
Laughter felt good. Scratch that. It felt great. But we had work to do. “Can you borrow Ford’s truck for a drive out to Buckhead?”
“Let me ask.” She muted the call for a heartbeat. “He says yes but wants to know if he can come too.”
The fit in the cab would be tight, but we could manage. “The more the merrier.”
With that settled, Midas and I stepped outside the Faraday and bumped right into Lisbeth.
“What are you doing here?” I scanned the street from left to right. “Where’s Ford?”
“I was coming to meet him on his break.” She shrugged. “This sounds like more fun than a taco.”
“Nothing is more fun than a taco.” I slanted my eyes toward her. “Are you sure you’re not a host?”
“What?” Jerking back, she touched her throat. “Why?”
“Tacos occupy a somewhat holy level on the food pyramid for Hadley,” Midas explained. “You’re fine.”
“Hey.” I spun on him. “How would you feel if she turned up her nose at extra rare steak?”
Teeth sparkled as his smile spread. “More steak for me.”
Thirty seconds later, Ford pulled up in his truck and rolled down his window. “Need a lift?”
Lisbeth wiggled her fingers at him, and he wiggled his right back.
“Thanks for this.” I opened the door and crammed Lisbeth in beside him. “We appreciate it.”
“We felt better about you guys having backup anyway.” Ford kissed Lisbeth’s check. “Food can wait.”
It hit me then, that between Ford and Lisbeth, they could track every breath Midas and I took then report to one another, or their factions, on it. We needed to draw hard lines on what information could be passed between the pack and the OPA in any official capacity ASAP.
Midas climbed in next, leaving me for last. I bumped his hip with mine, but he didn’t scoot. Instead, he hauled me onto his lap, and his warm breath hit my nape. “Let me get the door.”
With his long legs taking up most of the space, I banged a knee on the dash when I spread mine over the outside of his. I also managed to bang my head against the light protruding from the ceiling and bumped the funny bone in my right elbow on the glass. I fought the urge to suck in a pained breath between my teeth, but it was a close one.
For his part, his legs were trapped in an awkward bend to give mine room. He thumped his head on the window behind him trying to give me space to lean back against his chest. His arms wrapped around my waist better than a seat belt, and his elbow slid off the armrest to whack the door with every pothole.
Comfortable, it wasn’t.
But sitting in Midas’s lap wasn’t a bad place to be.
“Where are we headed?” Ford pulled out into traffic. “Lis said Buckhead, but where?”
Midas gave him the address then settled in to nibble on the right side of my throat.
Chills peppered my skin, and I angled my chin to give him better access, all the while hoping Liz or her ilk would assume the hickeys he was bound to be leaving were bruises from fighting chupacabras or something more badass than me spending a good half hour as a blissed-out gwyllgi chew toy.
“We’re here.”
Jolting awake, I hadn’t noticed myself drifting, but I had definitely gone to sleep mid make-out session.
Frak.
Magic exacted a price for its use. Always. Ambrose had paid the bulk of it to heal me, which depleted his reserves, but he and I were one and the same. Despite his very generous gift, I was feeling the drain too.
Chuckles moved through my back as Midas cinched his arms around mine to keep me from flailing while I remembered where I was and what I was doing on his lap. Good thing too. I almost elbowed Lisbeth in the jaw trying to work the tingles from my arm. I had fallen so deeply asleep, I couldn’t feel the pins and needles. Yet. They were biding their time, I was sure.
“How do you want to handle this?” Ford threaded his fingers through Lisbeth’s. “I have ideas.”
“Your ideas involve me staying in the truck.” She snorted. “I’ve been with the OPA for years. I can handle myself in the field. I’m aware of my limitations, and I’ve learned to work around them.”
“Your limitations put the rest of the human race to shame,” I praised her, because it was true, “but we’ve got to watch our butts in there. The coven doesn’t play fair. They play to win.”
It was easier for me to erase the Liz who had never existed by lumping her in with the rest of them, but Midas and Ford would struggle. She had been pack. She had been Ares’s mate. She had been family.
And it had been a lie.
Sometimes it wasn’t all bad, being a world champ at compartmentalizing, but I couldn’t recommend the years of training required to reach my skill level. Not even to my worst enemy.
“Are we hoping to contain or eliminate?” Ford kept his voice cool, and I could tell I wasn’t the only one who was shoving thoughts into neatly labeled boxes. “One will be infinitely more dangerous than the other.”
“We let her make that call,” I decided. “She’s more useful to us alive, but we’ll put her down if she gives us no other choice.”
Midas held me closer while he opened the door then spilled me gently out onto my feet in the gravel.
Once we had all exited the vehicle and worked out the kinks from the drive, we stood together, taking in the objective.
The building was smothering beneath vines and crumbling at its foundation. The windows had all been shattered, and the doors had sheets of plywood nailed to their frames to seal them shut. It was creepy, remote, and decaying.
Basically, it had super-secret witchborn coven hideout written all over it.
Sliding my hand into Lisbeth’s, I gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Make no apologies.”
Fingers tightening around mine, she smiled at me. “Survive.”
The guys traded glances then shrugged at one another.
“It’s an OPA thing,” Lisbeth sassed Ford. “You boys wouldn’t understand.”
Ford popped her on the butt, and she swallowed a yelp, her eyes bright with laughter.
Midas palmed Ford’s shoulder. “This isn’t the time or place for…that.”
“Have you seen Hadley’s neck?” He cocked an eyebrow. “It looks like a swarm of pixies took turns throat-punching her.”
“We need to focus now.” Reaching up, I found tender skin already healing. “We can all make out later.”
An awkward silence ensued, during which I replayed my words then debated shutting my head in the car door. Never let it be said I lost my ability to make things weird in the face of danger. “Um.”
The others stared at me as if I had sprouted three heads and two of them were arguing. In German.
“I’ll go in first.” I summoned Ambrose, eager to escape, and he coiled around my shoulders. “Clear the way and all that.”
Midas let me get a head start before falling in behind me, with Lisbeth and then Ford on his heels.
Careful to keep my voice low, I checked with my shadow. “Do you sense anything?”
Ambrose shook his head then zoomed ahead to search for magical remnants.
The uneven terrain made my ankle twinge, but I wasn’t complaining. I was too grateful for the mobility. I still had trouble framing why Ambrose had given up his stores to spare me from pain and a few weeks in a cast. I would have to look into that, but it could wait.
Within seconds, Ambrose sharpened his form to an arrow he shot through my temple.
Apparently, his altruism had its limits.
Hissing through my teeth, I sorted through the information he’d collected for me.
There were wards here, concentric ones, which the coven favored in my experience. Powerful ones too. That didn’t mean we had cornered our prey. The coven tended to keep their properties defended with active wards whether they were home or not, but I had yet to crack a ward that didn’t yield some fruit.
The outermost ward tingled over my skin as I walked through it, its subtle push telling me I should go. It would be effective on humans or the unwary, but I expected it, and I didn’t let it bother me.
The second ring gave me a harder nudge back than I anticipated, and the warning jumped to a higher threat level than usual so early on. That was both promising and annoying.
The third ring smacked me in the face, and my ears popped when I bulled my way through it.
The fourth struck fast, right on three’s heels, almost knocking me unconscious when I blundered into it.
“I can’t get past this alone,” I told Ambrose. “I need your help.”
Puffing out his chest, the shadow snapped out a crisp salute then began searching for the anchor.
While he scoured the areas I couldn’t access, I glanced over my shoulder to find the others trapped in the second ward ring, unable to get closer until it fell. All my backup was yards away, and it might as well have been miles for their inability to reach me.
A sizzling jolt struck me in the chest, and I blamed Ambrose until the quiet in my head convinced me he wasn’t at fault. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t see him anywhere. And as the throb eased, I couldn’t feel him either.
That was…not good.
“Ambrose?” I pressed my hands against the barrier in front of me. “Ambrose?”
A wisp of blackness hissed and crackled as it passed through the ward in front of me to stand by my side.
“Can you bring it down?” My darker half didn’t look so hot. “Or do we need a Plan B?”
The shadow rallied and pointed a finger at a glass Coke bottle positioned near the employee entrance but shook his head, indicating he couldn’t reach it to devour it.
What he had done for me when I needed it most gave me an idea.
Probably a very bad one.
“Take from me.” I ignored the tremble in my voice. “Get to that anchor and destroy it.”
The bond between us had never flowed only one way. That had been the greatest danger of it, that he could feed on me, weaken me, and take over my body. But I had gained enough experience that—with help from Linus’s tattooed bindings—I could prevent Ambrose from siphoning off me.
This was the first time I’d offered myself to him freely, and it was frankly terrifying, but he could return the favor after he finished devouring the anchor. The same couldn’t be said if he took from Midas or Ford, and Lisbeth’s humanity made her an impossible food source.
“We’re in this together, right?” I extended my olive branch with care. “I’m trusting you here.”
The shadow reached a tentative hand toward me and stroked my hair. The sensation was peculiar, like a shiver traipsing down my spine or walking through a cobweb. I couldn’t feel him, but I wilted slowly like an ice cream cake left too long in the sun until I puddled on the concrete.
I don’t think I fell, exactly, or maybe I did, and I just couldn’t feel it.
That…also couldn’t be good.
As darkness closed in, I swore I heard voices screaming my name, but I’d probably left the TV on again.
Midas and I really ought to invest in a new couch. This one was hard, the material was rough, and it stank. Its warranty was still in effect. Maybe we could get the manufacturer to send us a replacement. That would be nice.
The sluggish beat of my heart filled my ears with strange music, blotting out the distant cries, and I decided I would take a nap even if the couch wasn’t as comfy as the futon or the bed. I would sleep anywhere as long as Midas…
…was with me.
Eighteen
Oxygen stabbed my chest with the sharpness of a dagger, and I screamed into consciousness.
“You have nothing to fear.”
Gulping huge breaths, I got my lungs going again, and then I attempted to figure out the rest.
“Who…” I gasped out, still struggling, “…are you?”
“I am your shadow self.”
“Ambrose?”
“If you like.”
“How are you talking to me?”
“You stand on the precipice between life and death, and that affords me a certain leeway.”
“What?” I jolted upright. “I’m dying?” I pressed a palm to my chest. “Maybe lead with that next time?”
“Not yet, no.”
“Not yet is good.” I kept sucking in air, but I wasn’t getting enough. “Then why am I stuck here?”
The space was gray and warm, bleak, its fabric shifting and twisting. Gaunt faces dotted the mist beyond where I sat, and Ambrose stood in profile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, a caricature of Linus. I drank in the sight of him, my curiosity finally sated, and I couldn’t fault him for his artistic license.
His skin was as pale as the first full moon in winter, his hair a ravaging flame around his head. His lips were so blue they were almost violet, his eyes full of shadows so deep no light had hope of penetrating them. Mist swirled around his ankles, black tendrils that resembled a wraith’s tattered cloak, another of his Linus-like affectations.
There was a reason Ambrose had hooked me from the start. No good could come of us meeting like this. Creatures like him homed in on the insecurities and desires of their potential hosts, and I had been ripe for the plucking. They used what they gleaned to seduce prey into leaning on their strength, their knowledge, their power, until the prey—now a host—toppled without their support.
Most of the time, their prey even thanked them for it.
I know I had, in the beginning.
“I wished to tell you that I am not what I once was and not yet what I will become.”
A bitter laugh twisted its way out of my throat. “Sure thing.”
“It has been an age since I learned a thing I did not already know.”
“Was it the Star Trek or the Star Wars trivia that won you over?”
“You have taught me compassion. I had none in life, and I have had none in death. You are a lens through which I see the world more clearly. Your perception fascinates me. Therefore, I propose an alliance.”
“Why now?” I coughed, the air too thick and cottony. “What brought this on?”
“You trusted me,” he said simply. �
�You placed your life in my hands and believed I would cradle it softly.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been on good behavior recently.”
“I enjoy the chocolates,” he said solemnly. “I have never tasted the likes of which you treat me.”
A rattling cough moved through my chest, and I covered my hand only to pull away bloody fingers.
“You must go before it is too late.”
“Will we be able to do this again? Talk, I mean?”
“Only if you find yourself on death’s door may I hold it open for you.”
“I’ll take that as a no.” I wiped my hand on my pants. “Thanks, Ambrose.”
“We have centuries ahead of us, Amelie. Our kind may step in and out of time as we choose.”
A hard thump against my ribs stole what breath I had from me. “How long will we live?”
“We will live until we die.”
“As long as Midas?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“You will surpass him into eternity.”
Frost swept through me, chilling me to the bone. “I don’t want that.”
“We are bound to him.”
“How are we bound to him, exactly?”
“We are what we are, and we take what we need.”
“Are you saying our mate bond is…parasitic?”
No wonder it didn’t work right. Midas and I weren’t soul mates. We were conduits. For Ambrose.
“We are symbiotic.”
“What does he get out of it, then?”
“The bond flows both ways.”
“I don’t follow.”
“He may take from us and live, or we may take from him and die.”
“He can live with us forever,” I said slowly, wrapping my head around it. “Or we can die with him?”
“Yes.”
“Can I get back to you on that?”
“Take all the time you need.”
Amused by his own wit, he laughed, velvet-soft and inviting, the way I sometimes heard in nightmares.
“All right.” I rubbed the tender skin over my breastbone. “In that case, I’ll—”
Light exploded around me, piercing my eyes and shredding the misty gray landscape like tissue paper.
Lifting a hand in silent farewell, Ambrose watched over me until he too was ripped to tattered nothings.
Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 4) Page 23