Unholy Magic

Chapter Twenty-one

Yeah. Her luck lasted just as long as it took to walk down the hall and run into Oliver Fletcher, and to give in to his insistence that she “meet” with him in Roger’s office.

She looked at the pictures in her hand again, shuffling through them as if she could erase the images by rubbing them against one another. Herself sitting on her living room couch, smoking a kesh. Bumping up off her hairpin, hunched over the wheel of her car. On the street with Terrible, his body a huge shadow next to her, tossing pills into her mouth. And again. And again.

Fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

She took a deep breath, tried to steady her voice as she tossed the pictures back on the desk toward Oliver Fletcher. Goodbye, new car. Goodbye, bedroom heater. Goodbye, last vestiges of integrity. “What do you want me to do?”

“I think that should be obvious. I have these pictures, and I think they’d be of great interest to your emp—”

“Yeah, I understand. I’m asking what you want me to do. Lie and say it’s a real haunting? Or blame it on someone else?”

Fletcher leaned forward, all business now. “What do you think is best?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course. You’re the one with the experience here. What do you recommend? If you say it’s real, what proof do you need to provide, what documentation?”

Yeah, like she was going to give out that information so he could pull this shit again. Start himself a little cottage business cheating the Church. “It varies.”

“Whatever you need, I can provide. I think it’s obvious I have the ability.”

“Yeah.”

“You have to admit, this was much better than the average fake haunting.”

Was he fucking kidding? “What do you want, a pat on the back? I don’t go to your movies, Mr. Fletcher. Don’t expect me to applaud, okay?”

“There’s no need to be so rude.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She grabbed her bag, fished out her smokes. He had a lighter ready before she even got the butt into her mouth, like they were on some kind of date or something.

She let him light her anyway, though. “So, why? Why do this?”

“Why? I—” He shook his head, reached for the glass to his right. She hadn’t noticed it before; now she smelled the whiskey inside. “I should think that would be obvious. Roger Pyle wants to leave the show and go on to movies—and not my movies. He’s my biggest star, and I need him to get my next script off the ground. I need him out of here and back where he belongs. He owes his entire fucking career to me, he owes me that much. And—but never mind that. How did you not figure that out? You found out how I’d faked it—nice trick, by the way, with the smoke in the bathroom—but my obvious motive went completely undetected.”

“Not completely undetected. I was pretty sure it was you.” Something about that bothered her, now that she was thinking of it. It seemed a little too easy, a little—

“But you had no proof it was me. In fact, you still don’t.”

“I can get it.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I doubt it. Ah, the arrogance of youth. I was like you, you know. Despite my failings, I was so certain I could do no wrong.”

She couldn’t resist. “As opposed to now.”

His lips quirked. “The difference is now I know that what I’m doing is wrong. I’m just determined not to get caught.”

“Which is why you’re blackmailing me.”

“Wouldn’t you do the same, if you were me? Really, you do open yourself up for that sort of thing. If I was able to find evidence of your drug use—it’s more of an addiction, isn’t it, than just ‘use’?—simply by following you home, I can’t believe no one else would be able to. You should be more careful.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” She would, too. “Have you sent those pictures to anyone else?”

“What? Oh, no. They’re all here, with the memory chip. I’ll be keeping that. I’m sure you understand.”

Yeah, she understood. But she didn’t like it. She didn’t trust him. Who was to say he wouldn’t decide a few years down the line that he needed a little Church-related favor? She was already at Bump’s and Lex’s beck and call. She didn’t need another blackmail buddy holding something over her head.

He must have seen her give in, because that irritating smile widened ever so slightly and he gathered the pictures back into a neat little stack. “Let me know what kind of evidence you need, and how you’d like to handle this. I’ll go along with whatever you decide. Here.”

A business card sat between his index and middle fingers, as though he couldn’t be bothered to hold the thing properly. “That’s my card, with my cell number on it. To prove my trustworthiness. A lot of people would pay a lot of money for that number. As long as you keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours. Fair enough?”

The card stock was so stiff and sharp she could have cut lines with it, and the cell number did indeed sprawl across the back, written in thick black ink.

“Just give me a call,” he said, and turned back to the papers on Roger Pyle’s desk. Dismissing her.

Which was no more than she deserved.

Slobag hadn’t wanted to come too far into Bump’s territory, and Bump hadn’t wanted Slobag to see where he lived anyway, so the meeting was being held on the Aceria Bridge, so far west it was almost in Cross Town. From where Chess stood, dead in the middle, she saw the orange glow Downside’s fires cast on the fog and smoke, saw the orderly lights of Cross Town, even the houses on the hills of Northside. It was so quiet, so still. Like being somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere she wasn’t being blackmailed, somewhere she wasn’t scared shitless she was about to get busted hardcore when Lex “accidentally” let something slip. Somewhere she couldn’t feel Terrible’s eyes on her, somewhere she hadn’t fucked everything up between them. Again.

It was cold despite the roaring fire built in a fire can off to the left, and Chess was glad. It gave her an excuse to huddle into her coat, into herself, propped against the railing with her head down.

Beneath them the icy waters of the Eternity River raged, swollen from the snow that had melted during the day, so strong and hard that the bridge vibrated. For a moment Chess imagined it breaking, pictured them all falling, swallowed by the black current. Would it hurt? Or would the water numb her so she didn’t even feel when her lungs stopped working, when her—

“You all set, Ladybird? Gonna get what you fuckin need of they?” Bump’s gold-circled eyes peered at her from beneath his raggedy wide-brimmed purple hat, its gold buckle catching the firelight and throwing it back. He looked far from the Bump she’d seen in ridiculous pajamas the other night; this was street Bump, power resting on his shoulders as casually as the dingy white fur cape he wore. Beneath the cape she saw at least three shirts, slashed in places so the fabric beneath them could peek out, and his bottle-green velvet trousers tucked into heavy fur boots actually looked clean.

He’d painted his fingernails black. The diamond and gemstone rings covering his knuckles clanked when he moved. His gold-tipped cane sparkled and thumped against the pitted cement road when he walked, adding to the dissonant symphony.

“What?”

“Get what you need, make me some spells, yay? Figure Lex be easy, you run them sweet fingers through he hair no fuckin problem. Maybe you smile pretty make he think he got a chance. Slobag, you let Bump handle. Bump gots a fuckin plan.”

“But I thought—” She glanced at Terrible, but his face was impassive and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, flames reflected in the dark lenses. Empty-eyed, fire where his eyes should be. She shuddered, and not just from the image. Beyond greeting her he hadn’t spoken at all. “I thought you’d changed your mind, you didn’t mention it again, and I thought you were going to get whatever you needed.”

“When Bump said that? Ain’t recall fuckin sayin it. You got a memory Bump ain’t got, Ladybird? Them pills messin with your fuckin mind, yay? Never said that.”

She bit her tongue and took a deep breath before replying. Dickhead. “They’re going to know what I’m doing. They’ll know what I am.”

“Just do it, yay? You get what you fuckin need. Insurance, yay? Somethin Bump got for if there’s a fuckin need any else time.”

She guessed it didn’t really matter. He’d come to her for whatever spells he wanted, and she’d fake it, make them ineffective anyway. So she just nodded. “Fine.”

“That’s good. That’s real fuckin good. Ain’t gonna be here long this night, yay? Fuckin cold. Bump ain’t like the cold.”

Another nod. Another glance at Terrible. She’d hoped to have a chance to talk to him alone, but Bump hovered around her like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. Somehow she didn’t think Terrible would appreciate Bump overhearing their conversation, even if she didn’t mind. Which she did.

Wasn’t like she knew what to say, anyway.

Not for the first time she wished desperately she’d never kissed him to begin with. If she hadn’t started it, he wouldn’t have ended it, and she wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. Could have gone on ignoring the undercurrents in their friendship, ignoring the memories.

Why was she so determined always to do the exact wrong thing?

She sighed and huddled farther back into her coat, then thought better of it and reached for her pillbox. Bump wanted her to cozy up to Lex? In front of Terrible? Yeah, great idea. Numb was the only way to get through this.

Three more Cepts would help. She swallowed them and lit a cigarette.

She’d smoked it about halfway when headlights swept across the bridge, bleaching color from everything in their path, and then died. Slobag had arrived.

Her first thought was that he could have been a carbon copy of Bump. Same hat, only in red. His matching cape was covered in tiny gold bells. Both his shirts and blue brocade pants were slashed. But he didn’t carry off the look with the same insouciance as Bump. It looked costumey on him, and she knew from the way he moved that unlike Bump he wore the clothes for flash, because it was expected, not because he really enjoyed wearing them.

Her second thought was how much he looked like Lex. There was no denying the resemblance there, none at all, although Slobag wasn’t as tall as his son, didn’t have the same lazy sense of entitlement.

Said entitled son stood just behind his father, the black spikes of his hair shining like onyx. His gaze scanned the bridge, found her, passed over her. The breath she didn’t realize she was holding left in a sigh.

Chess stayed put while the men greeted each other, but when they neared the spot where she stood—Bump with his usual gliding walk, Slobag stepping as though he was afraid the road would stick to his shoes—she saw there was no point in trying to be unobtrusive. Slobag’s eyes caught her, scanned her ruthlessly. She could read the message in them, and it wasn’t cheerful. A mix between dislike because of her Church position and dislike because of whatever positions she got into with his son and heir, she imagined. His gaze felt like hard fingers on her skin.

“That’s Chess.” Bump waved his beringed hand in her direction. “Helpin we out, yay?”

Lex grabbed her hand, lifted it to his lips. She refused to look at him, especially not when his tongue darted out and dove between her middle and third fingers. “You a helpful kind of girl, then?”

She snatched her hand back and folded her arms tight over her chest. Her face warmed; she kept her gaze focused on the bridge railing.

Lex laughed. “Aw, now, no reason to be like that, aye? Ain’t gonna hurt you, girl. Unless that’s what you lookin for, dig. I’m real good at givin the dames what they want.”

Bastard. Sure, he was right. It would look odd if he totally ignored her. And she needed him not to; if Bump saw her refuse to even attempt to do what he wanted, he wouldn’t be happy at all. But now she realized he planned to go as far as he could with this little act. She was the weakness in this gathering, the loose brick in the façade.

Or maybe not. She glanced at Terrible. His expression hadn’t changed, but the dull color he couldn’t control was creeping up his neck.

“You ain’t sayin no, noticing,” Lex continued.

With effort she kept her voice under control. “No.”

“And lookie there, she said herself a word. It always this hard gettin you to talk?”

The words were a sneaky reference to their initial meeting, when he’d had her kidnapped, held her in a room until she started to withdraw, then taunted her with a bag full of Cepts until she agreed to talk to him.

“I’ve got another couple of words for you.”

“Aye? Betting you do. Maybe later you tell me, what you say?”

She glared at him. His eyes sparkled back. Like this was all some kind of game.

Of course, to him it was. He wasn’t the one in danger here.

When had being an addict gotten so fucking hard? So exhausting? It had been so easy for so long; she had a steady supply, she kept to herself, nobody bothered her. Now she was constantly up to her ears in intrigue and complications, being torn in every direction but her own, all thanks to her need for those pills.

She closed her eyes, shook her head. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to change anything, was she? No. So unless she planned to, she should shut the fuck up and focus on getting through this without getting killed.

Slobag cleared his throat. He’d taken a spot by a crumbling iron pillar, adjusting the layers of his clothing with finicky fingers.

Lex left her, swaggering to his father’s side. Bump and Terrible stood on either side of Chess. They were ready to start.

Or they would be, when someone finally spoke. As it was, they all stared at each other, waiting.

The silence started to get on her nerves. Or perhaps it was Lex, who caught her eye and winked. Either way, she was edgy even with the extra pills, and uncomfortable against the railing. She didn’t dare move, though, not even when the wind made her hair tickle her face or she thought, with a sudden sickening thud, that her murderous eye-stealing friends could very well be out there watching. Getting ready to attack.

Slobag lost. “You asked us to come.”

The words explained one thing Chess had always wondered about Lex, anyway. His words were Downspeech, but his accent never had been. Slobag’s wasn’t either. Interesting.

“Yay.” Bump leaned back, not bothering to hide his triumphant smile. “Sure did. Looks like we got a ghost, yay? Going after we fuckin whores. Bump hears you got a problem like it over your side. True?”

Slobag nodded.

“Ain’t Bump, yay? Ain’t goin after you fuckin girls, none. Chess here got the notion some ghost usin they eyeballs to see, takin they souls and makin them fuckin whores or ought, maybe she oughta fuckin chatter it so’s you dig it.”

Lex blew smoke out hard; the wind caught it and carried it right into her face. “Aye, let’s us hear what she say. You talk now, Churchwitch?”

With all eyes on her, glaring at him would only make her vulnerable. So she looked up instead, to a point right over his head, and quickly outlined what she thought—what she was sure—was happening.

Silence followed, broken only by the occasional shuffling of feet and the snap of Terrible’s lighter.

“Yay, some fucked up,” Bump said. He adjusted his grip on the cane; his rings clacked and sparkled. “What say, Ladybird? Think now we know what the fuck we look for, you find it? What you need, get it fuckin found?”

“I can banish them when we find them, yeah, but I don’t know how to find them.”

“We know they ain’t up here, dig, no fuckin happening in Bump’s territory Bump ain’t got the knowledge of.” This last was spoken with a satisfied glance at Slobag. “But maybe Slobag here ain’t can fuckin say the same, yay? What you say, Slobag? They by your fuckin side? Maybe you have you a fuckin study on it. Maybe you head on there, Ladybird. Have you a lookie round, see what you fuckin see.”

Now he wanted her to go over there and spy. Of course. For fuck’s sake, did he not understand she had an actual job?

She nodded. Time to discuss it with him after this stupid meeting was over.

“Yay, that work itself out real fuckin fine.” Bump stood up. “Ladybird come around, you take she safe, yay? Maybe best to pass the word, gonna fuckin send she down there.”

Slobag nodded, glanced at Terrible. Bump laughed, an oily chuckle that Chess practically felt settle on her skin.

“Ain’t no worries on Terrible, dig. Figure you fuckin guys ain’t takin he out noways.”

That successfully put an end to the meeting. Lex gave her fingers another tongue bath, and he and his father left. Chess did not watch them go. She was too busy lighting a cigarette, ducking down by the pillar out of the wind to bump up, anything to avoid getting into the discussion she knew she was about to have.

Make that discussions. First Bump wanted to instruct her on exactly what kind of information he wanted her to gather—she took notes—and to remind her he still wanted Lex’s hair.

Then he left. Left her alone with Terrible.

She inhaled deep, wishing it was courage instead of speed, and watched him reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a small recorder. He glanced at her as he opened it, removed the chip, and placed both back in his pocket.

“You right, Chess?”

“Yeah, I just … so that was Slobag.”

Terrible shrugged, but she felt his gaze on her. “Ain’t so much, aye?”

“No, I guess not.” The speed hit; her teeth felt like she’d rubbed them with aluminum foil.

“C’mon. Gotta get on out. I got some places needin to go. Ain’t you got work?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of things I could do, sure. But … I want to talk to you, for a minute. If that’s okay.”

What was she doing? He was going to let her off the hook! Was she insane?

She didn’t feel insane. A little foggy, maybe, from the extra Cepts, and a little chatty from the speed numbing her nose and the back of her throat. But not insane.

She owed him this. As much as she would have loved to hide from it and pretend it had never happened, it had. And something about those words she’d heard, about him saying them, made her feel strong enough to give him something back.

He rubbed the back of his neck, stalling, then shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes resolutely cast down. “You ain’t need to say, Chess. It’s cool, dig? Ain’t a problem this side.”

“But it’s not, I mean, I feel like—”

He nodded, turning the gesture into a barrier against her words. “Aye. I dig it, no problem. I see you around sometime, then. Go an get in yon car, aye?”

“No, wait. Please.” This was easier. He’d turned to go. She could talk to his back. The words came so much more readily when he wasn’t looking at her. When she didn’t know that behind the impenetrable lenses of his sunglasses his gaze was fixed on her face, watching her every move.

Her parched throat ached. She grabbed her water and gulped some, nearly choking in her haste. “It’s not … it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not. It’s …”

Shit, this was hard. How did you tell someone the truth when you weren’t even sure what that was? When you’d never told it before, not like this? Her hands trembled as she screwed the cap back on her water bottle.

“It’s not you, it’s not that I don’t … I just don’t think I’m ready for that. I don’t think I’d be good at it.” Shit, she couldn’t seem to get her throat and mouth to work properly. All her fear had formed itself into a horrid lump there, caked with speed behind her tonsils.

“I think I need some time. If that’s okay. I mean, I don’t expect you to sit around and wait for me. But I don’t want you to think it’s you, that I don’t want … That’s not it. And I don’t—I don’t want us to not hang out or anything. I want to. Um, I want us to. I just … need time.”

The words hung in the air between them for so long Chess could practically hear their death rattle. Oh, shit, she’d done that wrong, hadn’t she? She’d said that wrong, he didn’t understand what she meant. She’d thought he would know, that he’d be able to read between the lines and understand, but what if he hadn’t? Should she say more? But how much more?

Then he nodded. “Aye, cool. No worryin.”

The cold hand wrapping itself around her chest eased its grip. Panic still hovered over her, battering at the edges of her high, trying to find a way in, but not as much as it had a few minutes ago.

Of course, she had no idea where they would go from there.

“You headin back your place now?”

“Don’t know. You want to come over?” The words came out before she had a chance to think about it. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Having him in her place, just the two of them getting a buzz going … yeah. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea at all.

“Thinkin on headin for Trickster’s. New band playin, they ain’t bad neither. Come along, if you’re wantin.”

She nodded, took the few steps that brought her to his side. Trickster’s was probably a much better idea, because even just standing here next to him made her stomach flip a little. She couldn’t stop looking at his Adam’s apple, for some reason; the skin over it was so delicate, would be so sensitive under her lips.

“I follow you back your place, aye, leave yon car.”

Her shoulder brushed against his arm as they walked. The contact sent a little shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cold wind. Shit, what had she done? What was she supposed to be doing? She’d just made a huge mistake, hadn’t she. If the last week or so had taught her anything, it should have been that she and relationships of any kind didn’t mix, that she’d been right to be alone for so long.

But that loneliness didn’t seem like a peaceful retreat anymore. It just seemed lonely. And she knew, trusted without a doubt, that he wouldn’t push her into anything. Would never have said anything if she hadn’t forced his hand, would leave it up to her to decide what the next move was and when it would be made. And if she was turned on just being around him, well, that wasn’t really new, was it. Even if she wanted to pretend it was.

He put his hand on the small of her back when they reached the end of the bridge, helping her across the gravel and loose chunks of cement there. The heat in her blood intensified. Shit, she really needed to stop focusing on this. Arousal was like misery; once she let herself feel it, it refused to stop, pouring into her like whiskey and filling her up. She was still scared, still not ready, but surely it would be okay just to kiss him? To be friends who kissed?

Just one kiss. Just to feel those hands on her again, to taste his skin. It didn’t even have to last that long. She just wanted to touch him. To be close to him. She could kiss him, slide her palms up his chest, under his shirt. He’d hold her tight in those arms that felt strong enough to keep her together, and she could kiss his throat, scrape her teeth over it, dig them in and bite, tear that skin with her teeth so his blood pumped over her, reach up and dig her nails into his eyes and yank them out and—

She caught the scream before it escaped, threw herself away from him and fell to the cold ground.

“No! No, stay away from me!” She swatted at the hand he offered, scrambled away across the pavement. “They’re here, Terrible, shit they’re here I feel them—”

His fist closed around her arm, yanked her up from the street and pulled her close. She shuddered, resisted the urge to bury her face in his chest and inhale him like a line of speed. Grabbing her knife was probably a better idea; his other hand already held his gun ready, his gaze shifting over the trees at the edge of the road, the banks of the river.

“How close? You got em strong, or they still off?”

“I don’t know.” Air forced its way into her chest; she had to remind herself to breathe. How much of what she felt was sex magic, and how much was just plain sex? The bloodlust, that wasn’t her, and it was strong, but how strong? No way to tell. It was too connected to everything else, to the need pounding through her.

“What you have us do? We wait for em, dig, maybe take em out? Got it in you, without all yon herbs and shit?”

She nodded, barely trusting her voice. “Let’s do it.”

His arm tightened around her, then loosened again, so quickly she would have thought she imagined it if she hadn’t been so sensitive. Together they moved into about the same position she’d been in at the Crematorium with Lex, almost back-to-back, waiting. Watching. The river’s voice lifted over the banks, a low hum in her ears. Wind shuffled the branches of the trees, adding to the white noise, and over it all was the sound of her breath in her chest, the sound of her blood in her ears. She tensed and waited for the magic to get stronger. Waited for Vanita and her mate to get closer.

Minutes passed. Her muscles started to creak with tension. Shadows in the trees moved, formed shapes that made her breath catch but disappeared when she tried to focus on them.

Nothing. Nothing there, and the energy was fading. At first Chess thought she was imagining it, that it was nothing more than wishful thinking, but no. It was definitely fading.

Terrible—had he felt the energy as well?—relaxed when she did. “Ain’t comin, aye? Figure they seen us ready?”

“I guess.”

His head tilted. “Like an alarm you got. They ain’t sneakin up on you, aye?”

“Guess not.”

It wasn’t until she was in the car, with the Chevelle’s headlights in her rearview, that it occurred to her to wonder if that was a good thing. If they couldn’t sneak up on her, but they definitely wanted her out of the way….

What would they try next?