Haunted
Page 70
I looked over at her. "You don't seem to hold a grudge about it."
"I don't blame her for trying. I knew she would. As soon as I started spreading my wings, wanting to do things my way, I knew she'd turn on me. I saw it coming and avoided it. Not that it did any good in my case. That idiot, Eric, loused it up for us. As for the Nix, she delivered what she promised. I reaped the rewards…" She smiled at me. "And I still reap them."
"Through the visions."
Her smile broadened. "She takes good care of us. Special little treats that make the torment almost sweet."
Something to the left caught her attention. I turned to see a child crouched on the ground, poking a finger at something. A little girl with short, wild red hair and bright blue eyes, her jeans and sneakers filthy the way only a five-year-old can make them. She poked again and a toad jumped. With a gap-toothed grin, she shuffled forward, still crouching, finger outstretched.
A figure moved behind her and I glanced up to see Simmons there, having slid over while I'd been watching the child. Simmons bent and stroked her hand over the girl's head, as if smoothing down her hair. When she looked up at me, her eyes glistened with the same ecstasy I'd seen in my vision, when she'd watched Eric bury the boy.
"Do you like children?" she asked, smiling.
I swallowed hard. I tried to smile back, but it took every bit of acting ability I possessed just to stand there, watch her stroke the girl's hair, and do nothing.
"So the—" I sucked in air, choking back my rage. "So the Nix betrays all her partners."
Simmons gave the girl one last lingering look, then straightened. "All of them. As I said, it's not personal.
Look how she speaks so highly of me. She even betrayed Dachev, and he was her favorite."
"He?" I frowned. "The Nix told me she only takes women as partners."
A tiny, secret smile. "True, she can only inhabit women. But Dachev… he was special. They were truly a team. Kindred spirits, so to speak."
"Dachev was a ghost."
A momentary pause, as if surprised that I'd figured out her meaning so quickly. Then she fluttered her fingers, gaze traveling across the cemetery. "Ask her about him. If she wants to tell you, she will."
I tried the question from a few more angles, but only began to annoy her, so I switched gears and asked more about the Nix. She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know.
I signaled Jaime that it was time to send Simmons back, then steered Simmons in her direction. Two kids ran past, a boy on the cusp of puberty chasing a girl the same age. Simmons watched them, the tip of her tongue pressed between her teeth.
"One last question before I go," I said.
She kept watching the kids. "Hmmm?"
"If the Nix returns to her hell, you won't see any more visions, will you?"
She glanced back at me, gaze turning thoughtful. "No, I suppose not, but there's nothing to worry about.
They've sent three after her already and she's still free."
"True, but you know what they say." I grinned at her, baring my teeth. "Fourth time's the charm."
She stared at me. Then comprehension dawned, and she sprang. I wheeled out of the way, and waved as she fell back into hell.
Chapter 33
AT THE JAIL, AMANDA SULLIVAN LAY ON HER COT, reading Redbook. She was alone. "Trsiel?" I leaned into the hall and called louder, "Trsiel?"
A small face popped out from a cell farther down.
I smiled. "Hey, George. Have you seen Trsiel? The man who was here with me before? He's about this tall—"
George grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the cell, then dropped it and scampered off toward the end of the row. Again he led me down the old ladder into the basement, past the cells, and along the narrow hall leading to his treasure room. I began to suspect that was where we were heading, and was just about to ask about Trsiel again when George stopped. He looked each way, then ducked into some kind of ventilation shaft. There was no way I was fitting in there, but for his sake, I faked it, rather than walk straight through the wall.
We came out at the bottom of a set of stairs, in the basement room where Trsiel had "misteleported" us earlier. If the sight of the room wasn't familiar, the smell of bat shit certainly was. George feigned opening a door to the left. Then he turned to me and flourished his hand toward the room beyond, grinning broadly. There, with his back to us, was Trsiel.
Before I could thank George, he brushed past me and darted off again, returning to whatever adventure I'd disrupted.
I looked over at Trsiel. He was pacing the empty room, eyes downcast, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward. When he turned to pace back, he saw me and stopped short. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at me. Then he took a slow step forward. Eve?
Granted, the lighting down there was next to nil, but I was standing less than a yard away.
"Uh, yeah," I said, waving my hand in front of his face. "Have I changed that much in the last day?"
"Uh, no. Sorry. I, uh…" He looked over my shoulder.
"Expecting someone else?"
"I, uh—" He blinked as if snapping out of a fog, then took me by the elbow. "You should check in with Lizzie."
"Uh-huh. Not very good at subterfuge, are you? Let me give you a tip. If you want to get rid of someone, the worst thing you can do is act like you're trying to get rid of them. Subtlety is the key. Lying helps, but you might be stuck there. Can angels lie?"
"Eve, really, you have to—"
"Leave? Uh-uh. We need to talk. Starting with 'Who is Dachev?'"
"Dach—" His brow furrowed as his brain switched back from whatever track it had been on, he blinked, and his gaze slid away from mine. "I know hundreds, if not thousands, of people by that name. It's a common surname in—"
"You know which one I mean. The one connected to the Nix. The one you'd rather not talk about. Now spill it or—"
"Trsiel," said a voice from the doorway.
I'll admit, I almost expected that voice to be female. Anytime a guy is that eager to get rid of you, it usually involves a woman. Well, it can involve a man, but the meaning is the same. With Trsiel, though, the chances of him interrupting a mission for a romantic liaison—with someone of either sex—were pretty much zero.
"I don't blame her for trying. I knew she would. As soon as I started spreading my wings, wanting to do things my way, I knew she'd turn on me. I saw it coming and avoided it. Not that it did any good in my case. That idiot, Eric, loused it up for us. As for the Nix, she delivered what she promised. I reaped the rewards…" She smiled at me. "And I still reap them."
"Through the visions."
Her smile broadened. "She takes good care of us. Special little treats that make the torment almost sweet."
Something to the left caught her attention. I turned to see a child crouched on the ground, poking a finger at something. A little girl with short, wild red hair and bright blue eyes, her jeans and sneakers filthy the way only a five-year-old can make them. She poked again and a toad jumped. With a gap-toothed grin, she shuffled forward, still crouching, finger outstretched.
A figure moved behind her and I glanced up to see Simmons there, having slid over while I'd been watching the child. Simmons bent and stroked her hand over the girl's head, as if smoothing down her hair. When she looked up at me, her eyes glistened with the same ecstasy I'd seen in my vision, when she'd watched Eric bury the boy.
"Do you like children?" she asked, smiling.
I swallowed hard. I tried to smile back, but it took every bit of acting ability I possessed just to stand there, watch her stroke the girl's hair, and do nothing.
"So the—" I sucked in air, choking back my rage. "So the Nix betrays all her partners."
Simmons gave the girl one last lingering look, then straightened. "All of them. As I said, it's not personal.
Look how she speaks so highly of me. She even betrayed Dachev, and he was her favorite."
"He?" I frowned. "The Nix told me she only takes women as partners."
A tiny, secret smile. "True, she can only inhabit women. But Dachev… he was special. They were truly a team. Kindred spirits, so to speak."
"Dachev was a ghost."
A momentary pause, as if surprised that I'd figured out her meaning so quickly. Then she fluttered her fingers, gaze traveling across the cemetery. "Ask her about him. If she wants to tell you, she will."
I tried the question from a few more angles, but only began to annoy her, so I switched gears and asked more about the Nix. She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know.
I signaled Jaime that it was time to send Simmons back, then steered Simmons in her direction. Two kids ran past, a boy on the cusp of puberty chasing a girl the same age. Simmons watched them, the tip of her tongue pressed between her teeth.
"One last question before I go," I said.
She kept watching the kids. "Hmmm?"
"If the Nix returns to her hell, you won't see any more visions, will you?"
She glanced back at me, gaze turning thoughtful. "No, I suppose not, but there's nothing to worry about.
They've sent three after her already and she's still free."
"True, but you know what they say." I grinned at her, baring my teeth. "Fourth time's the charm."
She stared at me. Then comprehension dawned, and she sprang. I wheeled out of the way, and waved as she fell back into hell.
Chapter 33
AT THE JAIL, AMANDA SULLIVAN LAY ON HER COT, reading Redbook. She was alone. "Trsiel?" I leaned into the hall and called louder, "Trsiel?"
A small face popped out from a cell farther down.
I smiled. "Hey, George. Have you seen Trsiel? The man who was here with me before? He's about this tall—"
George grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the cell, then dropped it and scampered off toward the end of the row. Again he led me down the old ladder into the basement, past the cells, and along the narrow hall leading to his treasure room. I began to suspect that was where we were heading, and was just about to ask about Trsiel again when George stopped. He looked each way, then ducked into some kind of ventilation shaft. There was no way I was fitting in there, but for his sake, I faked it, rather than walk straight through the wall.
We came out at the bottom of a set of stairs, in the basement room where Trsiel had "misteleported" us earlier. If the sight of the room wasn't familiar, the smell of bat shit certainly was. George feigned opening a door to the left. Then he turned to me and flourished his hand toward the room beyond, grinning broadly. There, with his back to us, was Trsiel.
Before I could thank George, he brushed past me and darted off again, returning to whatever adventure I'd disrupted.
I looked over at Trsiel. He was pacing the empty room, eyes downcast, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward. When he turned to pace back, he saw me and stopped short. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at me. Then he took a slow step forward. Eve?
Granted, the lighting down there was next to nil, but I was standing less than a yard away.
"Uh, yeah," I said, waving my hand in front of his face. "Have I changed that much in the last day?"
"Uh, no. Sorry. I, uh…" He looked over my shoulder.
"Expecting someone else?"
"I, uh—" He blinked as if snapping out of a fog, then took me by the elbow. "You should check in with Lizzie."
"Uh-huh. Not very good at subterfuge, are you? Let me give you a tip. If you want to get rid of someone, the worst thing you can do is act like you're trying to get rid of them. Subtlety is the key. Lying helps, but you might be stuck there. Can angels lie?"
"Eve, really, you have to—"
"Leave? Uh-uh. We need to talk. Starting with 'Who is Dachev?'"
"Dach—" His brow furrowed as his brain switched back from whatever track it had been on, he blinked, and his gaze slid away from mine. "I know hundreds, if not thousands, of people by that name. It's a common surname in—"
"You know which one I mean. The one connected to the Nix. The one you'd rather not talk about. Now spill it or—"
"Trsiel," said a voice from the doorway.
I'll admit, I almost expected that voice to be female. Anytime a guy is that eager to get rid of you, it usually involves a woman. Well, it can involve a man, but the meaning is the same. With Trsiel, though, the chances of him interrupting a mission for a romantic liaison—with someone of either sex—were pretty much zero.
