Gray tidings, p.22
Gray Tidings, page 22
Both of them, thankfully, hidden.
But my kit…and my wand…were ash.
The wand had been a length of twisted wood resembling a crooked finger. I cut it from the magnolia tree that grew above Mom’s empty grave.
Now it was gone. Soon, she would be too. And I had no idea what to do about either.
“Come with us.” Mom gathered my hands in hers. “I would love to spend what time I have left with you both.”
“Bring the grimoire.” Dad kicked crunchy grass. “Unless it’s a pile of dust too.”
The frustration in his tone might have irked me yesterday. Today I was too grateful that, while he had tracked me by the grimoire’s flare, he couldn’t tell it was still on me. Though, now that I thought about it, he hadn’t mentioned it. Either Mom didn’t know that was what alerted him, or I was wrong about it.
Maybe the grimoire wasn’t summoning him so much as…
What?
Fatherly intuition?
I snorted at the thought then covered it with a mild coughing fit that soon became real.
“Saint,” Mom chastised. “That’s not the reason I invited her.”
“She ought to help if she can.” His gaze softened. “That book might hold a solution to our problem.”
“I’m dead,” she said gently, but he still flinched. “This isn’t a problem you can solve.”
Balanced on the line between truth and lies, I gave them some of each.
“I want to help,” I said, voice cracking, “but I don’t know where I got that spell or how I cast it.”
All I could figure was the choker had stolen from the grimoire what it required to protect me.
Stolen might be the wrong word, and that possibility terrified me. Almost as much as the subtle rot I detected in my scent that hadn’t been there before I detonated inside a black magic curse.
If the chain could wrest control away and obliterate threats to me, I was in trouble.
If the book could wrest control away and obliterate threats to it, I was in trouble.
The pendant was a receptacle of magic. It hadn’t been aware when I added it to my collection years ago, but then it had been empty. Now it had a houseguest in the grimoire. And an amplifier in the chain. Who knew what that would do to it? To any of the individual items?
“We should go.” Dad reached for Mom’s hand to help her stand. “Black Hat will be here soon.”
As my thoughts cleared, I choked on a gasp and pawed at Asa. “Where is…?”
Colby.
“At the RV with the others.” Asa kissed my fingertips. “Everyone is okay.”
Aware I sounded like a frightened child asking for her favorite plushie, I pressed him. “Clay?”
“On his way here.”
“I’m so glad my little girl found you.” Mom patted Asa’s cheek. “You complement one another.”
“Careful of the hair,” I warned her. “You should be safe, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“You’re family,” Asa agreed, “but your present state of existence might put you in danger.”
“The y’nai act like they’re auditioning to be the next Iron Chef.”
“Rue.” Dad drew Mom against his side. “Can you get the grimoire?”
“Did you come for me or for the book?”
Brows slanting down, Dad took a step forward. “What kind of question is that?”
One he didn’t answer, which explained why I couldn’t help twisting the knife.
“You knew I intended to save the girl. You could have been here. You could have helped me.”
Then, black witches or not, maybe all those lives would have been spared.
“I warned you I wouldn’t intervene in her life again, and I won’t.”
“This might have always been the path she was going to walk. Those covens might have always intended to rip her apart, but they each grabbed an arm and started pulling sooner because you wanted her.”
“As I said, she isn’t my responsibility.”
“Then whose is she?” I held myself upright. “Her parents? They locked her up and threw away the key. The Toussaints? They want her dead to maintain their stranglehold on the magic users in this city.” The fire in my belly threatened to consume me. “They have no right to treat their child that way.”
“They have no right,” he repeated slowly. “But you do?”
“What good is being deputy director if I can’t use that power to make a difference?”
“Do you know who you sound like when you assume that might makes right?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Like Father.” He said it. Actually said it And he meant it. “Always keen to do what’s right—in his eyes.”
“Do not compare us.” Clutching the musty tarp, I rose, or tried to anyway. Asa braced my elbows and got me on my feet, where my knees quivered with strain. “I’m nothing like him, and I’m nothing like you.”
“Saint,” Mom warned under her breath. “Think before you speak.”
The spark in her eyes made her realer than she had been, and I had to ask myself if Dad noticed she was a pale echo of the spitfire he fell in love with. From the stories I heard of her, I expected Mom to see how he was treating me then smack some sense into him. Instead, she meekly let him walk all over her, as if there wasn’t enough left of her soul—her self—to push back. That, more than anything, gutted me.
“You’re the deputy director of the Black Hat Bureau.” Dad drew no quarter. “The perfect heir.”
“That’s enough.” Asa stood beside me. “Unlike the rest of her family, Rue has a genuine interest in helping others. You would know that, if you knew her at all.”
“Rue has all the time in the world,” Dad growled. “Howl has only what moments I can steal for her.”
“Life doesn’t work that way.” Asa slid his arm around my waist to steady me. “People don’t wait until it’s convenient for someone to love them. They live, with or without you. Either you show up and put in the work, no matter how hard it is or how tired you are, or you get left behind.”
“Are you threatening me?” Darkness swirled around Dad. “Are you trying to keep her from me?”
“Keep her from you?” Asa frowned. “As far as I can tell, you haven’t tried to see her. Except when it’s benefited you. Even now, you’re here. Too late to help. You haven’t hugged your daughter or told her you’re grateful she’s alive. You only asked for the book that gave her the power to cause such harm.”
“He’s right.” Mom stepped between us, her palms on Dad’s chest. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.”
“You know its power.” He studied her face. “It might be our last hope.”
“We gave the book to a keeper so that it would never be used. By writing down those spells, you tore them from yourself. It was the only thing that saved you—and the others. Pick it up now, and you’ll damn yourself all over again.”
This was a story I hadn’t heard, one I scarcely dared to believe.
The magic in the grimoire was so toxic Dad ripped it out of himself?
Static whined in my head, so loud I missed the conversations happening around me.
“You could stay.” I wasn’t sure which parent I addressed. “I could help.”
“Baby.” Mom wrapped me up tight. “You don’t have to make yourself useful to be welcome.”
“You’ve already made up your mind.” I dismissed the regret in her tone. “You’re leaving. With Dad.”
“You can come with us.” She peered up at Dad. “You’ll behave, won’t you?”
“I’m sorry, Rue. For all I’ve said. All I’ve done.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Having hope is worse than having none.” He aged before my eyes. “If you come with us, I won’t ask anything of you. I swear it.”
As much as I wanted to clutch his offer with both hands, I couldn’t help but ask, “What about Asa?”
And Colby.
And Clay.
And Aedan.
“We must travel light.” Dad kept his tone gentle but weary. “Otherwise, we’ll be too easy to spot.”
“I can’t leave him.” I wouldn’t cut ties with the others either, but Asa was the safest ground for me to stand on before him. “I can’t choose between my parents and my family.”
“We understand,” Mom assured me. “Of course we do.”
“Do me a favor?” I waited for her nod. “Come see me before…”
“If it’s at all possible,” she promised, bringing me in for a hug, “I’ll find you.”
“I’ll get her to you,” Dad said roughly. “No matter the cost.”
“Thank you,” I told them both then hesitated. “What about Luca?”
“Luca can wait for me,” Dad said, “or she can proceed without me.”
No doubt that squared things in Dad’s mind. In Luca’s? Not so much. Anyone willing to kidnap a kid to make a point wasn’t going to stop there. She would keep nipping at his heels until he honored his word.
A chill of foreboding slithered down my spine, but I was used to wearing a target on my back.
Sirens pierced the air with their wails, and Mom stepped into the circle of Dad’s arms.
“We love you, baby.” She let him lift her into a bridal carry. “Above all else, believe that.”
Had we not grown so good at saying goodbye, I might have. As it stood, I believed they loved each other very much, and they loved the idea of the little girl they had known. But I was a grown woman now, and an agent. I was the deputy director. All of that must have convinced them it was okay to leave me to my own devices, that I would be okay without them, but they were wrong.
I needed my parents. I always had. But never in my childish fantasies had I pictured them not needing me too.
“Love you both,” I forced out the words, aware every goodbye could be our last. “Safe travels.”
“If you change your mind—” Asa slid his arm around my waist, “—you know how to find us.”
After a curt nod, Dad flew away with Mom looking over his shoulder, tears in her eyes.
Wrung dry of emotion, I stood there, ready to face the gawkers when they arrived to find their vaunted deputy director wearing a moldy tarp instead of the signature black suit. I could only imagine how that would go.
“I’m…back,” Clay panted, “with…clothes.” He tossed a plastic bag to Asa. “All I could…find…” he braced his palms on his thighs, “…short notice.”
“Come hold the edge of the tarp.” Asa set the bag at my feet. “She can change behind it.”
I ought to be thanking them, but I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat.
“Hurry…Dollface.” Clay helped Asa create a screen. “The others will…be here in…less than five.”
Nodding, I bent down and pulled out a pair of shorts with one purple leg and one gold leg. I slid them on, not bothering with the price tag. The gold tee was three sizes too big with I love Mardi Gras written in green and purple confetti. Last was a pair of green flip-flops with beads for straps.
“Not a lot to choose from,” Clay apologized, still slightly winded. “There were no real stores nearby.”
“You ran from the nearest souvenir shop?” That broke through my haze. “That must be miles away.”
“There’s a mall less than three miles away,” Asa said wryly. “Exactly where did you come from, Clay?”
“You fail to take into account I was on the bus, not at the marina.” Clay suddenly sounded much less breathless. “I hit a gas station on the way here, okay? But that was still a good half mile run in the heat.”
Aside from the fact I could see the nearest gas station from here, and our warmest day only hit seventy-five degrees, I was still grateful for his efforts on my behalf.
“Thanks.” I pushed down on the tarp to let them know I was done. “I appreciate it.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Clay took my hands and held my arms out from my sides, inspecting me for damage. “Ace told me what happened.” He examined the skin on my hands. “Not a scratch on you.”
“I have no idea.” I dipped my chin. “I don’t know what happened or how.”
Sympathy swept across his features, softening them until it hurt to look at him.
Missing time. Acting against his own will. Waking to a scene he had no memory of creating.
No one more than Clay understood how I felt in this exact moment.
“We’ll figure it out.” He kissed my forehead. “Okay, Dollface?”
“Yeah.” I pieced myself back together so that I could face the agents. “Okay.”
“Almost forgot.” He produced a shiny object from his pocket. “Colby got you set up with a new phone.”
The rice experiment must have failed spectacularly if she gave up on reviving a piece of tech.
“That fast?” I knew you could walk into a store and walk out with a phone, but sheesh. “She’s good.”
“She’s better than good.” His chest expanded with pride. “She’s the best.”
Black SUVs pulled into the marina, blocking the road, and agents poured out to begin damage control.
A familiar face peeled away from the others and strode toward us with purpose.
“Fergal.” Ha. I remembered his name this time. “I didn’t know you were in the area.”
“I wasn’t.” He cast Asa a curious look. “My presence was requested.”
Only the faint amusement in Asa’s eyes calmed me. He knew what was going on. Even if I had no clue.
“Where’s your junior agent? Walters, right?” Clay scanned behind him. “How did he recover?”
The y’nai had relieved Walters of his hand for attempting to slice through one of Asa’s braids.
For once, the y’nai and I had been on the same page about the punishment fitting the crime.
“He was transferred to accounting.” Fergal’s lips twitched. “He’s better suited to a cubicle.”
As if he had been waiting for this opening, Clay cut in. “How’s Earl enjoying his coworker?”
“Earl?” Fergal snorted a laugh. “He was devoid of all company, so Walters was a nice treat.”
Snickering, Clay slapped him on the back. “Oh, I like you.”
The vampire bared his fangs in a smile, but I was distracted as another agent I recognized ambled over.
“Jase Isiforos,” I greeted him, recognizing the Miserae daemon from our last case. “Did you receive an engraved invitation as well?”
“I did.” He bowed to me and then Asa. “You didn’t know?”
“Our new deputy director requires trustworthy lieutenants to ensure her powerbase remains secure,” Asa, who had been busy, answered for me. “She was impressed with your work and your candor.”
The pretty speech reminded me of just who Asa was and how well he knew the importance of securing allies to remain alive. Granted, I didn’t know Fergal or Isiforos well, but Asa was right. I had been impressed with them. They did their jobs, which was rare enough. But they also exhibited empathy toward victims, which was a remarkable find in our ranks.
“You each need to build your own team.” I acted as if this had been my idea all along. “You’ll both report directly to me. I’ll help when I can, and divert resources when I can’t, but you’ll require your own backup that you can depend on. Choose people you can count on. Submit lists to me, and I’ll make it happen.” It hit me then, how else I could show my faith. “For that matter, if you can think of anyone else who would make a good lieutenant, someone you won’t mind working shoulder to shoulder with, pass on those names too.”
“Thank you.” Fergal blinked, his pupils dilating from shock. “I…appreciate the opportunity.”
“Dad will blow a gasket.” Isiforos pounded a fist over his heart. “To serve the high prince’s mate is an honor.”
Asa bumped his shoulder into mine, and his grin peeked out where only I could see.
“Fergal,” a woman dressed in a hazmat suit called to him. “Are you AIC?”
“Yes.” He looked to me, and I nodded, happy to promote him, then he answered her, “I am.”
The cleaners descended en masse, and with my permission, he went to direct them.
“What happened here?” Isiforos studied the aftermath of the spell. “Or is that above my paygrade?”
“Just know that if you abuse Rue’s trust,” Clay said cheerfully, “you could be next.”
“I would expect nothing less.” His smile spread wider. “Nice outfit, by the way. I didn’t know we were doing casual Fridays.” He thought about it. “Or that it was Friday.”
Pride clear in his posture, he jogged off to corral the humans emerging from their boats and RVs.
“I do so enjoy striking fear into the hearts of my subordinates.” I plucked at my shirt. “Can we go now?”
“You’re the boss.” Clay tugged on the ends of my hair. “Can you go now?”
“Yes,” I breathed, throat scratchy and sore.
Finally, I had found a perk of the job. I could make a huge mess and leave others to clean up after me. Maybe this gig wasn’t so bad after all. Or maybe that was the first mistake anyone in power made. Assuming what made their life easier was best.
“Thank you.” I touched Asa’s elbow. “For doing this.”
For knowing me well enough to choose the people I would have selected for myself.
“I’ll call a Swyft.” Asa brushed his lips over mine. “We’ll need a ride to the RV.”
We had too many valuable targets on board to risk the Mayhews circling back for us. The RV wasn’t what I would call inconspicuous. Unless you were driving the strip in Vegas.
A lime-green SUV arrived to pick us up, its driver distracted by a murder podcast. He drove us to the RV, which was parked next to a bakery. Wonder whose idea that was? Dollars to donuts, that was why Clay arrived huffing and puffing. Stuffed with pastries, the run probably gave him a tummy ache.
He wasn’t breathless so much as seconds from hurling, but he manfully chose to fake the former over the latter.
