The Veil
Page 22
Phelps nodded. “You know there’s a procedure for that. Put in the request with the Commandant.”
“Sure,” Liam said. “In triplicate, undoubtedly.”
Phelps made a vague sound of agreement. “Bureaucracy.”
“Bureaucracy,” Liam agreed.
Apparently satisfied with the information he’d gotten, Phelps touched the recorder, which turned red as it disengaged; then he pocketed it. “That should be all for now, but stay around in case we have more questions.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
He looked at Liam. “You’ll be around, too?”
“Here and there. I can be found.”
Phelps nodded. “Then we’ll finish up outside so we can get our report in. Y’all have a safe night.” He paused at the door, glanced back. “Oh, and happy War Night.”
“Nous vivons,” Liam and I said together.
• • •
It wasn’t until the bell signaled the door’s closure that I took a full breath. I put my elbows on the counter, put my head in my hands, cursed. This wasn’t exactly how I’d thought War Night would go. I hadn’t had nearly enough Drink.
“You’re a pretty good liar.”
I slid my gaze to Liam, didn’t especially enjoy the smirk on his face. “I’ve had practice.”
“So I see.”
I stood up straight again, tried to compose myself. “God, what a mess.”
“It is,” he agreed. “And right now we need to move so you get to those tapes before Containment does. Our window to minimize the damage is closing.”
I nodded. “Okay. Where do we do that?”
“Devil’s Isle.”
I stared at him. Sensitives didn’t go into Devil’s Isle if they ever wanted to come out again. “What do you mean, ‘Devil’s Isle’?”
“That’s where my mechanic lives. He’s the only man I know who can do it.”
“My life’s goal is to stay out of Devil’s Isle. I’m not going to just walk in there under my own volition.”
“If you want to take care of the video, you do it in Devil’s Isle.”
“You can’t do it on your own?”
“No, because the mechanic is only our first stop.” He moved a step closer so that I had to look up at him.
“I promise you, Claire—tonight, you’ll enter Devil’s Isle of your own free will, and you’ll walk right back out again. But if you want to keep it that way, if you want to keep your free will intact, then you need to learn to regulate your magic.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Becoming a wraith isn’t inevitable, Claire. You aren’t the only Sensitive in New Orleans. Hell, you probably aren’t the only Sensitive in the Quarter.”
I stared at him. “There are more of us? Sensitives who aren’t in Devil’s Isle? How many?”
“Enough. And, like them, you’ve got to learn to normalize your magic, to keep the infection at bay. That can be done, with diligence.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Friends and experience.” His eyes darkened. “If you don’t learn soon, there’ll be no turning back. Once you become a wraith, there’s no reversal. There’s no pill, no cure, that can fix that damage. If you don’t learn, I’ll have to drag you to Devil’s Isle.”
Liam Quinn had a crappy bedside manner, and he clearly wasn’t one to pull a punch. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure anything else would have been so effective. No, I didn’t want to walk into Devil’s Isle as a Sensitive . . . but I certainly didn’t want to go in as a wraith. I hadn’t known there were more of us—Sensitives who’d learned to deal with their magic, who’d kept from becoming wraiths. If there was a possibility I could have a life—a real life—then I’d have to take a chance on Liam Quinn.
“Sure,” Liam said. “In triplicate, undoubtedly.”
Phelps made a vague sound of agreement. “Bureaucracy.”
“Bureaucracy,” Liam agreed.
Apparently satisfied with the information he’d gotten, Phelps touched the recorder, which turned red as it disengaged; then he pocketed it. “That should be all for now, but stay around in case we have more questions.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
He looked at Liam. “You’ll be around, too?”
“Here and there. I can be found.”
Phelps nodded. “Then we’ll finish up outside so we can get our report in. Y’all have a safe night.” He paused at the door, glanced back. “Oh, and happy War Night.”
“Nous vivons,” Liam and I said together.
• • •
It wasn’t until the bell signaled the door’s closure that I took a full breath. I put my elbows on the counter, put my head in my hands, cursed. This wasn’t exactly how I’d thought War Night would go. I hadn’t had nearly enough Drink.
“You’re a pretty good liar.”
I slid my gaze to Liam, didn’t especially enjoy the smirk on his face. “I’ve had practice.”
“So I see.”
I stood up straight again, tried to compose myself. “God, what a mess.”
“It is,” he agreed. “And right now we need to move so you get to those tapes before Containment does. Our window to minimize the damage is closing.”
I nodded. “Okay. Where do we do that?”
“Devil’s Isle.”
I stared at him. Sensitives didn’t go into Devil’s Isle if they ever wanted to come out again. “What do you mean, ‘Devil’s Isle’?”
“That’s where my mechanic lives. He’s the only man I know who can do it.”
“My life’s goal is to stay out of Devil’s Isle. I’m not going to just walk in there under my own volition.”
“If you want to take care of the video, you do it in Devil’s Isle.”
“You can’t do it on your own?”
“No, because the mechanic is only our first stop.” He moved a step closer so that I had to look up at him.
“I promise you, Claire—tonight, you’ll enter Devil’s Isle of your own free will, and you’ll walk right back out again. But if you want to keep it that way, if you want to keep your free will intact, then you need to learn to regulate your magic.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Becoming a wraith isn’t inevitable, Claire. You aren’t the only Sensitive in New Orleans. Hell, you probably aren’t the only Sensitive in the Quarter.”
I stared at him. “There are more of us? Sensitives who aren’t in Devil’s Isle? How many?”
“Enough. And, like them, you’ve got to learn to normalize your magic, to keep the infection at bay. That can be done, with diligence.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Friends and experience.” His eyes darkened. “If you don’t learn soon, there’ll be no turning back. Once you become a wraith, there’s no reversal. There’s no pill, no cure, that can fix that damage. If you don’t learn, I’ll have to drag you to Devil’s Isle.”
Liam Quinn had a crappy bedside manner, and he clearly wasn’t one to pull a punch. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure anything else would have been so effective. No, I didn’t want to walk into Devil’s Isle as a Sensitive . . . but I certainly didn’t want to go in as a wraith. I hadn’t known there were more of us—Sensitives who’d learned to deal with their magic, who’d kept from becoming wraiths. If there was a possibility I could have a life—a real life—then I’d have to take a chance on Liam Quinn.
