Devil at Midnight (25 page)

For a good time, call Nim Wei?
she thought.

That made her laugh, which made her feel better. This was just a tent. It wasn’t going to bite her. Christian faced far worse every time he went into battle. Today it was her job to protect him.

Something flashed at the bottom of the door flap, catching the corner of her eye—a piece of metal, she thought. Grace crouched down for a closer look. No, there was no metal. In fact, there was nothing shiny here at all.

Then she turned her head and caught the flash again.

Her shoulders rippled with nervousness. Whatever the effect was, she couldn’t see it if she looked at it directly. She tried squinting the way she had when the distant bandits had abruptly sprung into view. That didn’t work, but when she blurred her eyes, crossing them to lose their focus, images appeared.

Runes—or something like runes—marched around the hem of the minstrel’s tent. They had not been sewn there. The primitive little figures looked like they’d been drawn in glimmering golden light. Grace saw stick people with bows and arrows, a shield, a tree, a crescent moon with a teardrop dangling from its tip. Every third or fourth figure seemed to be a dagger, which suggested that this message wasn’t welcoming visitors. The writing ran up the seams of the tent as well, all the way to the peak of its scalloped roof.

Literally ran, as it happened. Some of the writing seemed to be moving.

Grace would have examined that effect more closely, except that crossing her eyes so long was giving her a headache.

“Bleh,” she said, shaking her head and coming to her feet.

She plunked her fists on her waist and considered her options.
In or out, Grace. Fight or flee.

But maybe thinking too hard about this wasn’t a good idea. She drew a deep breath, willed her teeth not to chatter, and stepped
through
the black silk wall.

Her nerves were jittering like crazy, but absolutely nothing happened. The diameter inside the tent was about the length of a four-door car. It was dim, thanks to the double layer of the walls. Grace could just make out a floor heaped with pillows and a number of unlit candles sitting in glass votives. What she didn’t see was any sign of Nim Wei.

She has to be here
, Grace thought, though in truth she was relieved not to find her. On the other hand, given the fuss she’d made about not going out in daylight, where else would she be sleeping?

She looked up, but the minstrel wasn’t hanging from the roof peak like a spider.

Down then
, Grace thought, turning her attention to the floor. The pillows in its center weren’t high enough to hide a body, but did they seem more disturbed? Grace walked there, wishing she could kick them out of her way and see what was underneath. If she could just focus her body the same way she had her eyes ...

Or unfocus it, as it were. Maybe the trick was not trying too hard.

Too bad she had no idea how to do that.

I’m not kicking you
, she thought to the nearest pillow.
I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!

She swung her foot like a soccer player, but it only went through the thing.

“Shucks,” she said. This was so frustrating.

She thought about how important her success could be to Christian and the others. Regardless of what they were meant to do, the glowing spells on the walls pretty much proved Nim Wei was a witch.

Grace sincerely doubted she was Glinda the Good.

If she could embrace what she had become, be glad of it instead of afraid or sorry, maybe she’d get somewhere. She was what she was now. There wasn’t any fighting it. She
wasn’t
sorry she had met Christian. Learning to help him was absolutely a good thing.

Her hands and feet began to tingle.

Oh, boy
, she thought, kneeling down before the effect could pass.

She batted away one pillow and then two more. She could see the dirt of the floor now, could feel it under her naked toes. It was smoother than she expected. Someone had cleared every rock and blade of grass from it, a task that should have taken quite a while on this icy ground. A tangle of glowing runes covered the spot she’d bared, forming the shape of a small body: Nim Wei’s body, Grace couldn’t help thinking. The way the symbols looked, the way they
felt
, reminded her of dogs snarling.

Stay away
, they seemed to say,
or I might bite you.

Grace pulled her right hand against her breast. She wanted to know what was under this strange protection, but the only way to find out seemed to be digging. She was solid enough to do it. She just wasn’t sure she dared.

Only an idiot would
, she berated herself. Sometimes fear was a good thing.

She placed her palm on the ground instead. The runes glowed brighter, seeming to swell bigger and rise to her. Grace’s vision shimmered. Gritting her teeth, she pressed more determinedly on the dirt ... which suddenly became transparent.

Grace could see Nim Wei. She was lying on her back a foot beneath the surface, as white as marble and as beautiful as a painted doll. She was asleep, thank God, and appeared unaware of Grace. She looked different than when she was awake, almost as if she glowed. Calling her Sleeping Beauty didn’t cover it. Grace had never seen a human being this gorgeous. Nim Wei’s thick-lashed eyes were closed, her arms stretched peacefully at her sides. Her skin was so perfect it didn’t seem to have pores.

Part of Grace didn’t ever want to look away from her.

She jerked back with a gasp of belated shock. Did witches really sleep underground? Most of what she knew about them came from decorations at Halloween. Since Nim Wei didn’t wear a pointed hat or fly on a broomstick, what she knew was probably baloney. Grace wished she’d been taught real folklore in school. As it turned out, that would have been more useful than “duck and cover.”

Shaken to her core, she stood up and retreated from the minstrel’s odd resting spot. Her skin felt cold, like a film of ice was crystallizing over it. When she looked down, she gasped louder than before. The runes weren’t on the ground anymore. They were crawling over her!

“Stop it,” she hissed, trying to slap them off. Her panic accomplished nothing. The glowing symbols weren’t bugs she could swat away, and they definitely didn’t follow her orders. More swarmed down the walls and headed straight for her. Grace hadn’t been imagining before. The runes
were
making a growling noise, one that was almost too low to hear, like a distant motorcycle gang. No less terrified because of their lack of volume, Grace edged hastily toward the door.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

And then she
did
leave, as if a cosmic hot-rodder had popped her clutch and laid down rubber.

G
race’s atoms felt like they were vibrating in their shells. She’d been flung back to the grassy amphitheater. Pretty though it was, she’d rather not have been there. Her angel was lounging on his back on the painted stage, one knee up and both hands clasped on his lean sternum. The giant screen behind him twinkled at the edges but was otherwise invisible. Beneath the brilliant sunshine, on the green distant hills, the Hollywood sign gleamed white.

She’d half forgotten this place while she was away—as if it were a land from a dream. She’d half forgotten her angel, too, though she might be able to chalk that up to him being good at ignoring her.

“You!” she huffed when he just lay there in his stupid tuxedo.

He turned his head to her and blinked. “Grace. What are you doing here?”

“What am
I
doing here? Why are
you
sleeping on the job? I’ve been calling for you like crazy.”

He sat up and straightened his fancy jacket. “You wouldn’t have heard me if I’d answered. You’ve been Immersed.”

“Whatever that means,” Grace muttered.

He smiled, and she really couldn’t imagine how she’d forgotten someone this beautiful. His eyes were a true sky blue, his golden hair as shiny as a wedding ring. He seemed familiar, as if she’d met him in real life and ought to remember it. She tried to tug the memory to the top of her brain, but even as she did, it skittered away.

Impatient with everything around her, Grace plunked her hands on her hips. “Send me back,” she demanded.

Her angel hopped off the stage and strolled to her, his infuriating smile intact. “Like being a ghost that much, do you? You should learn to raise your standards. Your Father wants more for you than crumbs.”

“Maybe they’re good crumbs,” she snapped.

Her angel laughed outright and took her face in his hands. “All is well, Grace. Ask your questions now.”

His touch radiated love into her, as if that emotion were an element as basic as oxygen. He wasn’t angry with her impatience. He wasn’t going to slap her around. He adored her just as much as when she was a good girl. Hot tears welled up into Grace’s eyes. She wished she knew how to love like this.

“You do,” the angel murmured. “I promise you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, “how I’m supposed to help Christian.”

“Nothing is required of you on that score.”

“Maybe nothing is required, but what if I’d like to? How can I learn to control my powers when I’m back there?”

Her angel brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “There are countless ways to achieve your goals, some of which you’ve already stumbled on. You must have noticed you’re making progress.”

“Not enough!”

“Your impatience slows you. When you feel it, it is your personal signal that you do not believe you’ll succeed.”

“Then help me believe. Wave your wings and make it happen.”

Her angel shook his shining head. “That was never meant to be my job. It is up to you to convince yourself.”

“Figures.” Grace sighed and crossed her arms, taking a moment to stare up at the perfect sky. As she did, a gorgeous red and emerald parrot curved across it. Was it a real bird, or a symbol from her unconscious? The fact that she could ask the question suggested she wasn’t as irritated as she thought. Already, the peaceful atmosphere of this place was sinking into her. When the angel rubbed her shoulders, his hands felt like they belonged there.

Here, with him, she could believe they were the same kind of being.

“I envy you,” he said. “All those adventures ahead of you on the earthly plane.”

Grace widened her eyes at him in surprise. He didn’t look envious. He looked calmly ebullient.

“My sort feel envy differently,” he explained. “We don’t mind desiring things. We know any dream we have can come true in time.”

His mention of time brought her out of her daze.

“I need to go back,” she said gently, not wanting to insult him. “Before I get too comfortable here.”

Her angel grinned at her as he adjusted his white bow tie.

“As thou wilt, milady,” he said, and snapped his long, manicured fingers.

C
ripes
, Grace thought as her brain rattled in her skull for the second time. She was back with Christian, who—to judge by his snores—hadn’t realized she’d left.

Well, really
, she thought.
Play the hero and nobody notices.

She laughed a little at herself, too grateful to be back to mind. She was solid, which was nice, so she wriggled down next to Christian, snuggling into his front with a happy sigh. His arm came around her and then his leg. Either he was dreaming about her, or he wasn’t completely out. The hump that dug into her belly was pretty hard.

“Mm,” he said, his hips working up and down as if he itched. “Grace.”

Grace edged her leg between his. That felt so good she had to give his thigh a scissoring squeeze. Christian’s hand slapped onto her bottom.