Thirteen
Page 21
“They believe that?” I said.
“In the angel corps, the ascendeds keep tallies of souls retrieved. Like notches on our swords. Trsiel”—she glanced at me—“my partner, keeps another tally for me. Enemies made. By this point, the lists are about equal. And I’m very, very good at my job.”
She pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “The Fates know it’s bullshit. But an angel was involved with Leah’s escape. They know that, too. So they put me on the case, also knowing I’m pissed off and eager to clear my name. All this means that there are multiple reasons why this sorcerer might have brought me over. Maybe he wanted an angel for the fight. Or he wanted an angel for a hostage. Or he wanted Balaam’s daughter. Or I was getting too close to finding out who freed Leah. Main point for now? He did bring me over. We need to find out who this guy was, which isn’t going to be—”
I held up a wallet. “Dead sorcerer guy’s wallet, complete with ID.”
My mother smiled. “Smart girl.”
“I’m a licensed PI, Mom, even if I do spend more time behind the reception desk than in the field.”
“All right then,” Mom said. “You and I can take showers, and then we’ll hit the road. Jaime? You just keep on resting. You don’t need to wash that blood out of your hair. It’s red anyway. And I’m pretty sure that isn’t puke—”
Jaime was in the bathroom, slamming the door, before she finished.
Mom grabbed the motel stationery and started writing. As soon as the shower started, she set the paper on the nightstand, got off the bed, and slung her sword onto her back. “Let’s go, baby.”
“But …” I glanced at the bathroom door. “Oh.”
“Yes, we’re ditching the diva. I’d say she’ll kill me later, but I’m pretty sure that’s not possible, and even if it is, I’ll only end up back where I was this morning.”
“Someone has to—”
“Lucas has already sent a local operative. That’s what I was doing with her phone earlier—texting the motel address to him. Now come on.”
“Just a sec.”
“We can’t—” She began.
I grabbed Jaime’s cell phone. “We may need this.”
Mom smiled. “That’s my girl.”
The Cabal operative was due to arrive in five minutes. We were to meet him at the corner, where we could keep an eye on the motel until he arrived. We didn’t speak until we got there. Then Mom said, “I don’t like tricking her either, Savannah.”
“I never said—”
“I can see it in your face. Yes, I would have rather just told her to stay behind, but as much as she bitches about staying out of the action, she’d never have agreed.”
“And if she came she’d be likely to get hurt. So it’s better for her if we leave her behind.”
“Exactly.”
“And her lack of offensive powers means she’s not much help in a fight, which means she’d just be an extra person to look after.”
She exhaled. “Do you want me to deny that, Savannah? I won’t. My main concern is her getting hurt.”
I checked my watch, then eased back under the shade of a tree, in case Jaime decided on an uncharacteristically short shower and looked outside for us.
“You don’t agree,” Mom said.
A bubble of panic popped inside me. Of course I did. I always agreed with my mother. She knew best. She took care of—I took a deep breath and silenced twelve-year-old Savannah.
“I … agree in principle, but I wouldn’t have handled it the same way.”
“Good,” she said, so emphatically I jumped. “You aren’t a carbon copy of me, Savannah. I don’t want you to be. I want you to be your own person. In this case, I stick by my decision. We agree to disagree. And we push on. Unless you want to …”
She nodded back toward the motel.
I shook my head. “It’s done now, and I’m guessing that’s the Cabal guy’s car turning the corner.”
The car did belong to the man Lucas had sent for Jaime. He was a typical operative, a completely unassuming guy who could probably win an Ultimate Fighting title with one hand tied behind his back. We checked his ID—Lucas had texted Mom his details. He’d also sent us a code phrase, which the guy repeated. The operative didn’t ask our names. Didn’t display an iota of curiosity, except when he noticed the glowing sword on Mom’s back. Even then, all he did was blink. Mom said, “We’re ditching our friend to go to a Dungeons and Dragons convention.” He didn’t even smile. Jaime was going to love this guy. And love us all the more, not only for deserting her, but for forcing his company on her.
He left. We waited until he reached the motel door, then took off before the fireworks began.
JAIME
Jaime stood under the shower, eyes closed, letting the steaming water massage her neck and back. It might be a cheap motel, but apparently, midday, no one was using the water and she got all the hot water she wanted. And she wanted a lot. Even after twenty minutes of scalding, she swore she could still feel blood and filth in every pore.
She was not, as she always admitted, cut out for a life of adventure. Not unless it came with rich food and soft beds and perfumed baths. And Jeremy. After four years together, he was the key ingredient in her life, even if it did mean the occasional morning spent, drugged and sick, on a dirt-and-pest-encrusted prison cot.
Thinking of that cot, Jaime emptied the rest of the mini shampoo bottle on her head. As she lowered her hands, she noticed dried blood deep under her long nails. With a shudder, she scraped it out and tried not to think of where it came from. When that failed, she played the “what I’ll do when all this is over” game, which had gotten her through many an ordeal in the past. Jeremy had made her play it just last evening when she had been feeling helpless sitting around Cortez headquarters as everyone else raced off to action.
Italy, Jeremy suggested. A week in an Italian villa, just the two of them. Maybe more than a week, if they could both swing it. That was usually the sticking point—their own schedules and responsibilities, Jaime’s career and Jeremy’s Alphahood. But they never complained or wished things could be different. They weren’t kids. They’d built their own lives before they’d met and they still led them, taking advantage of any time when those lives could intersect—which made them feel like kids sometimes, ducking out on their responsibilities to play hooky together. Those interludes would grow more frequent when he stepped down as Alpha, and someday maybe they’d even live together, grow old together. But for now, this worked, and you don’t mess with what works.
“In the angel corps, the ascendeds keep tallies of souls retrieved. Like notches on our swords. Trsiel”—she glanced at me—“my partner, keeps another tally for me. Enemies made. By this point, the lists are about equal. And I’m very, very good at my job.”
She pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “The Fates know it’s bullshit. But an angel was involved with Leah’s escape. They know that, too. So they put me on the case, also knowing I’m pissed off and eager to clear my name. All this means that there are multiple reasons why this sorcerer might have brought me over. Maybe he wanted an angel for the fight. Or he wanted an angel for a hostage. Or he wanted Balaam’s daughter. Or I was getting too close to finding out who freed Leah. Main point for now? He did bring me over. We need to find out who this guy was, which isn’t going to be—”
I held up a wallet. “Dead sorcerer guy’s wallet, complete with ID.”
My mother smiled. “Smart girl.”
“I’m a licensed PI, Mom, even if I do spend more time behind the reception desk than in the field.”
“All right then,” Mom said. “You and I can take showers, and then we’ll hit the road. Jaime? You just keep on resting. You don’t need to wash that blood out of your hair. It’s red anyway. And I’m pretty sure that isn’t puke—”
Jaime was in the bathroom, slamming the door, before she finished.
Mom grabbed the motel stationery and started writing. As soon as the shower started, she set the paper on the nightstand, got off the bed, and slung her sword onto her back. “Let’s go, baby.”
“But …” I glanced at the bathroom door. “Oh.”
“Yes, we’re ditching the diva. I’d say she’ll kill me later, but I’m pretty sure that’s not possible, and even if it is, I’ll only end up back where I was this morning.”
“Someone has to—”
“Lucas has already sent a local operative. That’s what I was doing with her phone earlier—texting the motel address to him. Now come on.”
“Just a sec.”
“We can’t—” She began.
I grabbed Jaime’s cell phone. “We may need this.”
Mom smiled. “That’s my girl.”
The Cabal operative was due to arrive in five minutes. We were to meet him at the corner, where we could keep an eye on the motel until he arrived. We didn’t speak until we got there. Then Mom said, “I don’t like tricking her either, Savannah.”
“I never said—”
“I can see it in your face. Yes, I would have rather just told her to stay behind, but as much as she bitches about staying out of the action, she’d never have agreed.”
“And if she came she’d be likely to get hurt. So it’s better for her if we leave her behind.”
“Exactly.”
“And her lack of offensive powers means she’s not much help in a fight, which means she’d just be an extra person to look after.”
She exhaled. “Do you want me to deny that, Savannah? I won’t. My main concern is her getting hurt.”
I checked my watch, then eased back under the shade of a tree, in case Jaime decided on an uncharacteristically short shower and looked outside for us.
“You don’t agree,” Mom said.
A bubble of panic popped inside me. Of course I did. I always agreed with my mother. She knew best. She took care of—I took a deep breath and silenced twelve-year-old Savannah.
“I … agree in principle, but I wouldn’t have handled it the same way.”
“Good,” she said, so emphatically I jumped. “You aren’t a carbon copy of me, Savannah. I don’t want you to be. I want you to be your own person. In this case, I stick by my decision. We agree to disagree. And we push on. Unless you want to …”
She nodded back toward the motel.
I shook my head. “It’s done now, and I’m guessing that’s the Cabal guy’s car turning the corner.”
The car did belong to the man Lucas had sent for Jaime. He was a typical operative, a completely unassuming guy who could probably win an Ultimate Fighting title with one hand tied behind his back. We checked his ID—Lucas had texted Mom his details. He’d also sent us a code phrase, which the guy repeated. The operative didn’t ask our names. Didn’t display an iota of curiosity, except when he noticed the glowing sword on Mom’s back. Even then, all he did was blink. Mom said, “We’re ditching our friend to go to a Dungeons and Dragons convention.” He didn’t even smile. Jaime was going to love this guy. And love us all the more, not only for deserting her, but for forcing his company on her.
He left. We waited until he reached the motel door, then took off before the fireworks began.
JAIME
Jaime stood under the shower, eyes closed, letting the steaming water massage her neck and back. It might be a cheap motel, but apparently, midday, no one was using the water and she got all the hot water she wanted. And she wanted a lot. Even after twenty minutes of scalding, she swore she could still feel blood and filth in every pore.
She was not, as she always admitted, cut out for a life of adventure. Not unless it came with rich food and soft beds and perfumed baths. And Jeremy. After four years together, he was the key ingredient in her life, even if it did mean the occasional morning spent, drugged and sick, on a dirt-and-pest-encrusted prison cot.
Thinking of that cot, Jaime emptied the rest of the mini shampoo bottle on her head. As she lowered her hands, she noticed dried blood deep under her long nails. With a shudder, she scraped it out and tried not to think of where it came from. When that failed, she played the “what I’ll do when all this is over” game, which had gotten her through many an ordeal in the past. Jeremy had made her play it just last evening when she had been feeling helpless sitting around Cortez headquarters as everyone else raced off to action.
Italy, Jeremy suggested. A week in an Italian villa, just the two of them. Maybe more than a week, if they could both swing it. That was usually the sticking point—their own schedules and responsibilities, Jaime’s career and Jeremy’s Alphahood. But they never complained or wished things could be different. They weren’t kids. They’d built their own lives before they’d met and they still led them, taking advantage of any time when those lives could intersect—which made them feel like kids sometimes, ducking out on their responsibilities to play hooky together. Those interludes would grow more frequent when he stepped down as Alpha, and someday maybe they’d even live together, grow old together. But for now, this worked, and you don’t mess with what works.
