Dead Witch Walking (25 page)

“I know Nick wants to help,” she said. “He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t want to repay you somehow for helping him escape. But he’s going to get hurt.”

I said nothing, knowing she was right. We were professionals and he wasn’t. I’d have to get him out of the way somehow. “What do you suggest?” I asked, and her tension eased.

“Why don’t you take him up and see if those clothes in the belfry fit him while I book a seat on that plane?” she asked. “What flight did you say it was?”

I tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “Why? All we need to know is when it leaves.”

“We might need more time. It’s going to be close as it is. Most airlines will hold a plane if you tell them you have daylight restrictions. They blame it on the weather or a small maintenance issue. They won’t take off until the sun isn’t shining at 38,000 feet.”

Daylight restrictions? That explained a lot.
“Last flight to L.A. before midnight,” I said.

Ivy’s face grew intent as she fell into what I remembered as her “planning mode.” “Jenks and I will go to the FIB and explain everything,” she said in a preoccupied voice. “You can meet us there for the actual take.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. I’m going to the FIB. It’s my run.”

Her frown was obvious in the dark of the hallway, and I stepped back, uncomfortable. “It’s still the FIB,” she said dryly. “Safer, yes. But they might tag you for the prestige of nailing a runner the I.S. couldn’t. Some of those guys would love to kill a witch, and you know it.”

I felt ill. “Okay,” I agreed slowly, my mouth starting to water at the sound of gurgling coffee. “You’re right. I’ll stay out of it until you’ve told the FIB what we’re doing.”

Ivy’s determined look shifted to one of shock. “You think I’m right?”

The smell of coffee was pulling me into the kitchen. Ivy followed me in, her footsteps soundless. I clasped my arms around myself as I entered the brighter room. The memory of hiding in the dark from fairy assassins quashed any feeling of excitement that the prospect of tagging Trent had given me. I needed to make some more spells. Strong ones. Different ones. Really different ones. Maybe…maybe black. I felt sick.

Nick and Jenks had their heads together as Jenks tried to convince him to open the jar of honey. By Nick’s grin and continuous soft refusals, I guessed he knew something about pixies as well as vamps. I went to stand by the coffeemaker, waiting for it to finish. Ivy opened the cupboard and handed me three mugs, the question in her eyes demanding an answer as to why I was suddenly on edge. She was a vamp; she read body language better than Dr. Ruth.

“The I.S. is still spelling for me,” I said softly. “Whenever the FIB moves to make a major play, the I.S. always follows to get involved. If I’m going to make a public appearance, I need something to protect myself from them. Something strong. I can make it while you’re at the FIB, then join you at the airport,” I said slowly.

Ivy stood at the sink, her arms crossed suspiciously. “That sounds like a good idea,” she prompted. “Some prep work. Fine.”

Tension pulled me tight. Black earth magic always involved killing something before adding it to the mix. Especially the strong spells. Guess I was about to find out if I could do that. Dropping my eyes, I arranged the mugs in a straight row. “Jenks?” I questioned. “What’s the assassin lineup like outside?”

The wind from his wings shifted my hair as he landed by my hand. “Real light. It’s been four days since you’ve been spotted. It’s just the fairies now. Give my kids five minutes, and we’ll distract them enough that you can slip out if you need to.”

“Good. I’m going out to find some new spells as soon as I get dressed.”

“What for?” Ivy asked, her tone going wary. “You have plenty of spell books.”

I felt the dampness of sweat on my neck. I didn’t like that Ivy knew it was there. “I need something stronger.” I turned, finding Ivy’s face curiously slack. Dread pulled my shoulders tight. I took a deep breath and dropped my eyes. “I want something I can use for an offensive,” I said in a small voice. With one hand cupping an elbow, I put a hand over my collarbone.

“Whoa, Rache,” Jenks said, his wings clattering as he forced himself into my line of sight. His tiny features were pinched in worry, doing nothing for my sense of well-being. “That’s dipping kind of close to dark magic, isn’t it?”

My heart was pounding, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. “Dipping? Hell, it is,” I said. I flicked a glance at Ivy. Her posture was carefully neutral. Nick, too, didn’t seem upset as he rose, coming close at the promise of coffee. Again, the thought of him practicing black magic raced through me. Humans could tap into ley lines, though wizards and sorceresses were thought of as little more than a joke in most Inderland circles.

“The moon is waxing,” I said, “so that will be on my side, and I wouldn’t be making spells to hurt anyone in particular….” My words trailed off. The silence was uncomfortable.

Ivy’s relatively mild response was unnerving. “Are you sure, Rachel?” she asked, only the barest hint of warning in her voice.

“I’ll be fine,” I said as I looked away from her. “I’m not doing this out of malice but to save my life. There’s a difference.”
I hope. God save my soul if I’m wrong.

Jenks’s wings blurred in fitful spurts as he landed on the ladle. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, clearly agitated. “They burned all the black spell books.”

Nick pulled the coffee carafe out from under the stream of coffee and slipped a mug in its place. “The university library has some,” he said as the hot plate sizzled against what spilled in the bare second it took.

We all turned to Nick, and he shrugged. “They keep them in the ancient book locker.”

A wisp of fear tugged at me.
I shouldn’t be doing this
, I thought. “And you have a key, right?” I said sarcastically, taken aback when he nodded.

Ivy exhaled in a puff of disbelief. “You have a key,” she scoffed. “You were a rat an hour ago, and you have a key to the university’s library.”

He suddenly looked far more dangerous as he casually stood in my kitchen with Ivy’s black robe hanging loose on his tall, lean body. “I did my work-study there,” he said.

“You went to the university?” I asked, pouring myself a cup after Nick.

He took a sip of coffee, his eyes closed in what looked like bliss. “Full scholarship,” he said. “I majored in data acquisition, organization, and distribution.”

“You’re a librarian,” I said in relief. That’s how he knew about the black spell books.

“Used to be. I can get you in and out, no problem. The lady in charge of us work-study peons hid keys to locked rooms near the doors so we wouldn’t keep bothering her.” He took another sip, and his eyes glazed as the caffeine hit him.

Only now did Ivy look worried, her brown eyes pinched. “Rachel, can I talk to you?”

“No,” I said softly. I didn’t want to go into that hallway again. It was dark. I was on edge. That my heart was pounding because I was afraid of black magic and not her would mean nothing to her instincts. And going to the library with Nick was a hindsight less dangerous than making a black spell—for which she didn’t seem to have any care. “What do you want?”

She eyed Nick, then me. “I was only going to suggest you take Nick up to the belfry. We’ve got some clothes up there that might fit him.”

I pushed myself from the counter, my untasted coffee tight in my grip.
Liar
, I thought. “Give me a minute to get dressed, Nick, and I’ll take you up. You don’t mind wearing a minister’s hand-me-downs, do you?”

Nick’s look of startlement eased into question. “No. That would be great.”

“Fine,” I said, my head pounding. “After you’re dressed, you and I will go out to the library and you can show me all their black magic books.”

I glanced at Ivy and Jenks as I walked out. Jenks was very pale, clearly not liking what I was doing. Ivy looked concerned, but what worried me most was Nick’s casual ease with everything Inderlander, and now black magic. He wasn’t a practitioner, was he?

I
stood on the sidewalk waiting for Nick to get out of the cab, estimating what I had left in my wallet before putting it away. My last paycheck was dwindling. If I wasn’t careful, I’d have to send Ivy to the bank for me. I was burning it faster than usual, and I couldn’t understand why. All my expenses were less.
Must be the cabs,
I thought, vowing to use the bus more.

Nick had found a pair of work-faded jeans up in the belfry. They were baggy on him, held up with one of my more conservative belts; our long-departed minister had been a large man. The gray sweatshirt with the University of Cincinnati’s logo was equally outsized, and the gardening boots had been hopelessly too big. But Nick had them on his feet, clomping about like a bad Frankenstein movie. Somehow, with his tall height and casual good looks, he made slovenly seem attractive. I always just looked like a slob.

The sun wasn’t down yet, but the streetlights were on since it was cloudy. It had taken longer to get the minister’s small wardrobe into the wash than it had to get here. I held the collar of my winter coat closed against the chill air and scanned the headlight-illuminated street as Nick said a few last words to the cabbie. Nights could be chill in late spring, but I would have worn the long coat anyway to cover up the brown gingham dress I had on. It was supposed to go along with my old lady disguise. I had only worn it once before, to a mother-daughter banquet I was somehow roped into.

Nick unfolded himself out of the cab. He slammed the door shut and smacked the top of the car. The driver gave him a casual hand toss and drove away. Cars flowed around us. The street was busy in the hours of twilight when both humanity and Inderlander were in force.

“Hey,” Nick said, peering at me in the unsure light. “What happened to your freckles?”

“Uh…” I stammered, fingering my pinky ring. “I don’t have any freckles.”

Nick took a breath to say something, then hesitated. “Where’s Jenks?” he finally asked.

Flustered, I pointed across the street to the library steps with my chin. “He went ahead to check things out.” I eyed the few people filing in and out of the library. Studying on a Friday night. Some people have an insatiable desire to ruin the curve for the rest of us. Nick took my elbow, and I tugged away from him. “I can walk across the street by myself, thank you.”

“You look like an old lady,” he muttered. “Stop swinging your arms, and slow down.”

I sighed, trying to move slowly as Nick crossed in the middle of the street. Horns blew, and Nick ignored them. We were in student territory. If we had crossed at the intersection, we would have attracted attention. Even so, I was tempted to give a few one-fingered waves, but decided it might blow the old lady image. Then again, maybe not.

“Are you sure no one will recognize you?” I asked as we moved up the marble stairs and to the glass doors. Cripes, no wonder old people died. It took them twice as long to do anything.

“Yup.” He pulled the door open for me and I shuffled in. “I haven’t worked here for five years, and the only people working on Friday are the freshmen. Now hunch your back and try not to attack anyone.” I gave him a nasty smile, and he added a cheerful, “That’s better.”

Five years meant he wasn’t much older than I was. It was about what I had guessed, though it was hard to tell under the rat-induced wear and tear.

I stood in the entryway to get my bearings. I like libraries. They smell good and are quiet. The fluorescent light in the entrance looked too dim. It was usually supplemented by the natural light coming in through the big windows running the entire two stories up. The gloom of sunset dampened everything.

My gaze jerked to a blur falling from the ceiling. It was headed right for me! Gasping, I ducked. Nick clutched my arm. Thrown off balance, my heels slipped on the marble floor. Crying out, I went down. Sprawled with my legs every which way, my face burned as Jenks hovered before me, laughing. “Damn it all to hell!” I shouted. “Watch what you’re doing!”

There was a collective gasp, and everyone looked at me. Jenks hid himself in my hair, his merry laughter ticking me off. Nick bent and took my elbow. “Sorry, Grandmum,” he said loudly. He gave everyone a sheepish look. “Grandmum can’t hear very well,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “the old bat.” He turned to me, his face serious but his brown eyes glinting. “We’re in the library now!” he shouted. “You have to be quiet!”

Face warm enough to make toast, I mumbled something and let him help me up. There was a nervous patter of amusement, and everyone returned to whatever they were doing.

An uptight, pimply-faced adolescent rushed up to us, worried about a lawsuit, no doubt. Amid more fuss than it warranted, he ushered us to the back offices, babbling about slippery floors, that they had just been waxed, and he would talk to the janitor immediately.

I hung on Nick’s arm, moaning about my hip and playing the old lady to the hilt. The flustered kid buzzed us through a semisecure area. Red-faced, he fussed over me as he sat me down and propped my feet up on a swivel chair. The silver knife strapped to my ankle gave him a slight pause. I whispered faintly something about water, and he fled to find some. It took him three tries to get through the buzzed door. Silence descended as the door clicked shut behind him. Grinning, I met Nick’s eyes. It wasn’t exactly how we had planned it, but here we were.

Jenks came out from hiding. “Slicker than snot on a doorknob,” he said, darting up to inspect the cameras. “Ha!” he exclaimed. “They’re fake.”

Nick took my hand and drew me to my feet. “I was going to take you down through the access in the employees’ break room, but this will work.” I looked blankly at him and he flicked his eyes to a gray fire door. “The basement is through there.”

A smile curved over me as I saw the lock. “Jenks?”

“On it,” he said, dropping down and starting to tinker. He had it sprung in three seconds flat. “Here goes…” Nick murmured as he turned the knob. The door opened to show a dark stairway. Nick flicked on the lights and listened. “No alarms,” he said.

I pulled out a detection amulet and quickly invoked it. It stayed warm and green in my hand. “No silent alarms, either,” I murmured, hanging it about my neck.

“Hey,” Jenks complained. “This is first-year stuff.”

We started down. The air was cold in the narrow stairwell, with none of the comforting smell of books. Every twenty feet a bare bulb burned, sending sickly yellow beams to show the dirt in the lee of the steps. A foot-wide band of grime made a stripe on the walls to either side of me at hand height, and my lip curled. There was a banister, but I wouldn’t use it.

The way ended at an echoing dark hallway. Nick looked at me, and I glanced at my amulet. “We’re clear,” I whispered, and he flicked on the lights to illuminate a hallway with a low ceiling, the walls stark cinder block. Floor to ceiling wire gates ran down the length of the hall, doing nothing to hide the racks of books behind them.

Jenks buzzed confidently ahead of us. Heels clacking, I followed Nick to a locked wire door. The ancient-book section. While Jenks flitted in and out between the diamond-shaped holes, I laced my fingers through the mesh and stood on tiptoe, all senses soaking it in. A frown pinched my brow. It was my imagination, of course, but it seemed I could smell the magic flowing out from the racks of books, all but visible as it eddied about my ankles. The feeling of old power emanating from the locked room was as different from the smell upstairs as a chocolate kiss is to a premium Belgium sweet. Heady, rich, and oh-so-bad for you.

“So where’s that key?” I asked, knowing Jenks wouldn’t be able to shift the heavy tumblers of the older, mechanical lock. Sometimes it’s the older safeguards that work best.

Nick ran his fingers under a nearby shelf, his eyes glinting in a past frustration as his hand stopped. “Not enough seniority to go into the book locker, eh?” he muttered under his breath as he pulled out a key with a bit of sticky tack on it. Eyes tight, he looked at the skeleton key laying heavy in his hand before opening the wire-meshed door.

My heart gave a pound and settled as the door squeaked. Nick put the key in his pocket with an abrupt, determined motion. “After you,” he said as he turned on the fluorescent lights.

I hesitated. “Is there any other way out of here?” I asked, and when he shook his head, I turned to Jenks. “Stay here,” I said. “Watch my—back….” I bit my lip. “Will you watch my back, Jenks?” I said, my stomach clenching.

The pixy must have heard the hint of a quaver in my voice as he lost his excitement and landed on my proffered hand. At eye level, he nodded. The sparkles in his black silk shirt caught the light, adding to the glow his blurring wings put out. “Gotcha, Rache,” he said solemnly. “Nothing is going to come through here unless you know about it. Promise.”

I took a nervous breath. Nick’s eyes were confused. Everyone in the I.S. knew how my dad had died. I appreciated Jenks not saying anything, just telling me that he would be there for me.

“Okay,” I said as I took off my detecting amulet and hung it where Jenks could see it. I followed Nick in, ignoring the creepy sensation of my skin tingling. Whether they contained black arts or white, they were just books. The power came from using them.

The door squeaked shut, and Nick brushed past me, gesturing me to follow. I took off my disguise amulet and dropped it into my bag, then undid the bun my hair was in and shook it all out. Fluffing it, I felt half a century younger.

I glanced at the passing titles as I passed them, slowing as the aisle opened up to a good-sized room hidden from the hallway by racks of books. There was an institutional-looking table and three mismatched swivel chairs that weren’t even good enough for an intern’s desk.

Nick strode unhesitatingly to the glass-door cabinet across the room. “Here, Rachel,” he said as he pulled it open. “See if what you want is here.” He turned, brushing the shock of black hair from his eyes. I blinked at the intent, sly look shadowing his long face.

“Thanks. This is great. I really appreciate it,” I said as I dropped my bag on the table and came to stand beside him. Worry pinched me, and I pushed it aside. If the spell was too disgusting, I just wouldn’t do it.

Carefully, I worked the oldest-looking book out. The binding had been torn off the spine, and I had to use two hands to manage the unwieldy tome. I set it at the corner of the table and dragged a chair up to it. It was as cold as a cave down here, and I was glad for my coat. The dry air smelled faintly like potato chips. Squelching my nervousness, I opened the book. The title page had been ripped out, too. Using a spell from a book with no name was disturbing. The index was intact, though, and my eyebrows rose.
A spell to talk to ghosts? Cool…

“You aren’t like most humans I’ve spent any time with,” I said as I scanned the index.

“My mom was a single parent,” he said. “She couldn’t afford anything uptown and so was more inclined to let me play with witches and vampires than the kids of heroine addicts. The Hollows was the lesser of two evils.” Nick had his hands in his back pockets and was rocking heel to toe as he read the titles of a row of books. “I grew up there. Went to Emerson.”

I glanced at him, intrigued. Growing up in the Hollows would explain why he knew so much about Inderlanders. To survive, you had to. “You went to Inderland Hollows’s high school?” I asked.

He jiggled the locked door of a tall free-standing closet. The wood looked red in the glow from the fluorescent lights. I wondered what was so dangerous that it had to be locked inside a closet, inside a locked vault, behind a locked door, at the bottom of a government building.

Picking at the heat-warped lock, Nick shrugged. “It was all right. The principal bent the rules for me after I got a concussion. They let me carry a silver dagger to get the Weres to back off, and rinsing my hair in holy water kept the living vamps from being too obnoxious. It didn’t stop them, but the bad case of B.O. it gave me worked almost as well.”

“Holy water, huh?” I said, deciding I’d stick with my lilac perfume rather than have a body odor that only vamps could smell.

“It was only the warlocks and witches that gave me trouble,” he added as he gave up on the lock and sat in one of the chairs, his long legs straight out before him. I gave him a sideways smirk. I could well imagine the witches gave him trouble. “But the practical jokes stopped after I befriended the biggest, meanest, ugliest warlock in school.” A faint smile played about his eyes, and he looked tired. “Turk. I did his homework for four years. He should have graduated a long time ago, and the teachers were glad to look the other way to get him out of the system. Because I didn’t go whining to the principal all the time like the handful of other humans enrolled there, I was cool enough to hang with the Inderlanders. My friends took care of me, and I learned a lot I might not have.”

“Like that you don’t have to be afraid of a vamp,” I said, thinking it was odd a human would know more about vamps than I did.

“Not at noon, anyway. But I’ll feel better once I take a shower and get Ivy’s smell off me. I didn’t know that was her robe, earlier.” He clumped over. “What are you looking for?”

“Not sure,” I said, nervous as he peered over my shoulder. There had to be something I could use that wouldn’t send me too far down the wrong side of the “Force.” A nervous amusement flashed through me.
You’re not my father, Darth, and I’ll never join you!

Nick’s eyes began to water at the strength of my perfume, and he backed off. We had driven over with the windows down. Now I knew why he hadn’t said anything about it.

“You haven’t lived with Ivy very long, have you?” he asked. I looked up from the index, surprised, and his long face went slack. “I, uh, sorta got the idea that you and she weren’t…”

I flushed, dropping my eyes. “We aren’t,” I said. “Not if we can help it. We’re just roommates. I’m on the right side of the hall, she’s on the left.”

He hesitated. “Do you mind if I make a suggestion, then?”