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Chapter 5

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My panic finally made an impact on Bryce. He gunned the car engine and we took off down the street. The demon began sprinting after us, hand digging into the trunk of the car. I screamed and ducked down as the car swerved back and forth, Bryce desperately trying to shake the demon loose.

It wasn't working.

"MacArthur. Gillian. Hey! Snap out of it!"

I blinked at him, trying to process. "He killed Tia. She's dead."

Bryce wasn't listening. "I'm driving. You get rid of him."

I was still weak, but the order pushed me into action. It was born into me, I guess. I grabbed hold of my anger—anger always saved me—and focused. Clearing me head of all its jumbled thoughts I took a deep breath and began to cast. Ken slowly crawled up the truck, using his hands to punch handholds in the car to hoist himself closer to us. He was almost at the back seat when I finished.

He screamed in agony as I set his insides on fire. I muttered a quick knockback spell and he flew from the car.

"He's gone," I shouted. The demon tumbled down the street, dust swirling around him. As he crashed to the ground, he hit his neck. He lay there on the ground, neck at an impossible angle. Then he started standing. Eyes watched me from a crooked head as we drove off.

"Shit."

"Is nothing good enough for you?" I demanded, turning back around. "Oh. Shit."

Several black vans were pulling out from the street up front. One of them opened its doors and a mess of men in black spilled out onto the street, all carrying terrifying black weapons.

"Hang on," he shouted and then spun the wheel around. I slammed into the side of the car as we did a u-turn in the middle of the street. The car went over the curb, hitting someone's trashcan. I flew up and slammed back down. I was going to be sick—the men rushed back inside the vans and began driving after us.

Bryce hit the demon (again) on our way back down the street and it went flying underneath the car. He swore. "They better not wreck my car. It's taken me years to restore it."

"You're worried about your car?"

We sped down the street—Bryce ignoring all road signs. He was headed straight for the highway; it was easy enough to see that it would be easier to lose them by going faster. Never before had I been so glad that I had been forced to live near the stupid freeway.

"Can't you do anything about them?" he snapped.

"I can't!" Not only was I weak but... "I can't go after Cabal employees. They're just doing their jobs."

"Yes, let's feel bad for the minions trying to kill us. Excellent way to prioritize."

"They're not just minions. Not that you care, but they have people who love them, wives, children, families, people waiting at home. Families who hate that they have this stupid, stupid job, where they have to obey the every whim of some sorcerer jerk for no discernable reason because the sorcerer is rarely qualified for anything at all, let alone determining all the death sentences they hand out. Families who go to bed every night praying that someone like you...doesn't act like you!"

I was panting as I finished. Bryce gave me a look that said clearly what he thought of my mental state. "So your dad works for a Cabal?"

"For the Cortezes," I muttered, glancing behind me as the cars raced after us. "Died for them, too."

Not exactly true, but it had been on a mission for them that he had gotten hurt. And it had been the being physically broken beyond belief that had made him...do what he did.

"I'm sure the benefits were amazing."

They had been. Benicio had been more than generous but I couldn't touch the money without being sick. I had spent it on ways of forgetting...I had spent much more of it than I should have.

"You do realize the people that work for you are actually people, don't you? They aren't just alive to serve you?"

"That's what I let them think," he said blithely. Then he swore. "They're gaining."

The cars were close enough that I could see the shiny grey sign on the front. Finally, Bryce found the San Diego Freeway and pushed the car even faster. The black cars followed, dodging traffic, trying to get closer. Even tied back, my hair was everywhere, blinding me, getting into my mouth when I screeched:

"Don't they ever quit?"

"Not unless they're ordered too. You feel comfortable stopping them yet?"

They were getting too close. And Tia... they weren't here to drink milk and cookies. When it came down to it, I wanted to survive. They wanted to stop me? Paige had taught me how not to be helpless.

It shouldn't kill anyone—but it sure as hell would slow them down.

Ignoring my hair as it swirled around my, ignoring just how damn fast Bryce was weaving through traffic, ignoring the ache in my muscles, I turned around. Strength that I hadn't felt in a long time surged through me. Calling on that, I began to chant.

The sky darkened. Behind us, rain began to fall. Then hail. And not just tiny ice pellets, huge baseball-sized chucks of ice, slamming into the cars. Cars tried to avoid the plummeting ice, but to no avail. They swerved and twisted and I heard something crash. I spun around so as not to see the devastation.

Eventually, I asked, "Are they gone?"

"One big car wreck," Bryce said. The admiration made me fairly sick as I buckled myself back in the car. "Not too bad, witch."

As he tried to get us into a car accident—even though there was no on left behind us—I frantically searched through my duffel. My cigarettes were still in there but my hand was shaking so violently it took me five tries to get one out. The wind from the highway made lighting it difficult but I eventually managed it.

It was kind of ridiculous how difficult it was to smoke on the highway in a convertible with the top down. But it was worth it, to have something to concentrate on that wasn't fleeing for my life. I had just violated one of the most fundamental rules of supernatural existence. Sure, no one was going to think witch, but mysterious hail in the middle of a sunny down was not something that Paige would approve of. Neither was attacking people, even if they were trying to kill me. It was impressive, how I always managed to fuck up.

"Smoking kills," Bryce said with a grin. I maturely blew the smoke at him. "Causes cancer."

"Just leave me alone."

"If I'd done that, you might be dead right now."

I would have argued, but if he hadn't been there... well, I wouldn't have been either. "Who sent them?"

"Why would I know?"

"Oh please. Like you can't identify the special forces outfits of every single Cabal." I would have been more disappointed if he hadn't. But he took a long time answering. Long enough that I repeated the question. "Who sent them?"

"Who did you piss off?"

"No one!" I exploded. "I haven't done anything but sleep and study for months now. There's no way I managed to piss anyone—unless Savannah did something. She tends to give my name out when she gets caught in sticky situations." Bryce snorted. "Ha ha. You wouldn't think it was funny if you had these random half-demons screaming outside your house, demanding you give them their clothes back. I almost couldn't explain that one."

"Sounds like my sister can be a real bitch."

"Utterly." I couldn't help smiling. "She's the greatest. And those guys aren't drunk half-demons. She'd tell me if she pissed off someone with that kind of firepower."

Maybe she had...but it didn't sound like she had time to tell anyone my name. Besides, the people she had been fighting when she had disappeared would have known what she looked like. And we didn't look anything alike.

"Those weren't Cabal goons waiting for you."

I glanced at Bryce and found he looked serious. But he had to be wrong.

"No one else has that kind of resources."

"I know," he snapped. "But if they were from a Cabal, I would have known. They were like Cabal uniforms, sort of a copy, but they weren't the actual ones."

"What does that mean?"

Bryce shrugged. "Don't go for midnight walks."

How nice of him to care about my life. At least he hadn't kicked me out of the car. But I wasn't going to feel safe until I was hiding under a blanket of some kind. Trying to ignore just how terrified I was starting to get—bad enough to think a Cabal was after me, now the mysterious unknown was coming to get me.

"Some help you turned out to be," I muttered. But that wasn't fair. "At least you can drive the getaway car. How did you get good at that?"

"The necro I'm taking you to see? He loves cars. We used to go racing all the time after high school."

"And they say juvenile delinquency doesn't pay," I faked scoffed.

"Damn straight." He shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't want to get rid of them right away."

"They were just doing their job."

"And if they die on it, they get a hell of a lot more."

I didn't need to be told that. Wasn't I paying my way through one of the most expensive universities in the country from the money I had been given when my father died? I hated thinking about it, so I didn't.

"Shouldn't you have bodyguards?" I demanded.

He shifted uncomfortably, but finally replied, "Do you know what an Expiscor is?"

"My dad was one."

He could hear things that no one else could; except when it came to his family. Then he evoked the other part of his power and just didn't hear a thing.

"Do you know how uncomfortable it is to have sex when there's an Expiscor in the next room? Fucking kills the mood. So I gave him the night off."

"You can't give bodyguards the night off."

"I can do whatever I want." If he had been bragging, it would have upset me less. But the way he said it so casually, like it was obvious, made me want to scream.

"You're not CEO, Bryce. You're never going to be. That means the bodyguards answer to someone else. You just can't give them the night off, no matter how horny you get."

"If you know as much about Cabal rules as it sounds, you should be able to figure out how I managed to do just that."

I shivered in my seat, because it was too easy to imagine what the Cabals could do. That was his intention and Bryce laughed, before turning on the radio again, to sing along like before. Only this time it was to some oldie but goodie station. I didn't try and stop it. He had helped to save my life and until he realized he was actually helping Savannah, he would be helpful to have around. I concentrated on the familiar smell of the cigarette, blocking out my companion.

Or trying to. He did have a good voice. I would give him that. On key, too, I suspected, though couldn't say for sure. I tried to remember everything I knew about Bryce Nast, but kept hitting walls. Sean was a few years older than Bryce, which made Bryce the spare. All Cabals were run by a particularly family and the position of CEO was passed along like a medieval kingship. It went from father to eldest son—no exceptions. The second sons were shipped off to the board of directors with everyone else in the immediate family.

I wondered if the two brothers were close. I suspected they were, if Bryce felt comfortable enough to bring dates home to his brother's place. It occurred to me then that he might not have any place else to stay. He was supposed to live in New York. But why would he be visiting if his brother wasn't home?

More importantly, what was going to happen when we met the necro? Was he going to stick around? He was acting like he was. That was not going to end well. I couldn't exactly help Savannah when just mentioning her got her brother angry. That was not a sibling rivalry I wanted to get involved in. She was too powerful and he had too much money for me to survive either of them.

I tried to remember if I had ever heard of an invisibility spell that might come sort of close to what had happened to Savannah. But my whole ordeal soon caught up with me. I was staring at the window, not seeing the cars, one minute. The next, I was asleep.

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I found myself being pushed hard in the arm.

"Get up. We're here."

Shaking myself awake, I looked around. We were inside a dark garage, someplace with barely enough room for a person, let alone a car. It was filled with all sort of tools—gleaming metal things that were covered in oil and grim. There even appeared to be an engine in the corner. It's parts were scattered along the floor, like shards of broken glass. It felt a little like a medieval torture chamber.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" I really couldn't deal with that right then.

"Maybe later," he promised. "Is the ghost here yet?"

As I got out of the car, I cast the communication spell, calling out to Savannah. She responded quickly, telling me she had been waiting on the lawn for hours, complaining that I had taken too long. I didn't tell her what had happened. I didn't want to remember the blood on the carpet, the cars on the road...

"He's here," I told Bryce. "Let's go."

Bryce shut the garage door manually and then led me over to door that I hadn't even seen. The black of the door matched the grunge of the rest of the room perfectly. He glanced around and spotted a red toolbox nearby. Kneeling down, he looked through it, coming up with a key.

"Are we breaking and entering?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Only in the technical sense." He unlocked the door with a flourish. "Come on."

"If he gets you killed, I promise to haunt him," Savannah said as I held the door open. I wasn't sure how long it took her to get it, but I felt like an idiot doing it. I was beginning to think I had finally just gone crazy like everyone thought I should. I followed, prepared to let Bryce deal with whatever trouble sprang out at us. We were in a small, dark room, which had almost been taken over completely by a washer and dryer. Neither were on, but the way they gleamed in the half-light caused me to shiver.

Bryce led the way out of the room and down a corridor. Light came from a small window through the front door and that was it. It looked like someone was renovating, since the hallway was decorated with brushes and plywood and a wicked looking machine that looked like it belonged Jigsaw's basement. I stayed close to Bryce, ready to use him as a human shield if necessary.

Savannah disapproved of our surroundings. "Jeez, call a maid or something. The place looks like a cyclone hit."

Bryce knew where he was going. He went straight to the door at the end of the hallway and pushed it open without hesitation. I readied a knock-back spell and followed. Savannah wouldn't be able to help me.

The first thing I saw was the enormous television and stereo system and the hundreds of movies lining the wall. The opposite wall had an elegant looking bar, reminiscent of the one back in the hotel, though a more affordable version. In between was a gorgeous pool table while the wall was spotted with pictures of expensive looking cars. Except the fact it was lacking in women, it seemed like the ultimate male fantasy room. The television showed one of those first-person shooter games that all looked the same to me. On the red vinyl couch facing the TV a man was playing with such intense concentrate I wanted to laugh.

I didn't dare though, because he was the biggest man I had ever seen. He dwarfed the glaringly red couch. His hands swallowed up the controller, holding it the same way I would hold a plum. He was biting his tongue as the onscreen character dove around a corner, bullets spraying everywhere. A mess of thick, dark hair that fell below his shoulders crowned his head, framing a nose that was decidedly off-center. He was ignoring us completely.

"Leech," Bryce called, interrupting.

The Thing named Leech paused the game. Then he turned around. If he was surprised to see people appear in his house, he didn't show it. A huge grin spread across his face. "Dude. Took you long enough."

"Got sidetracked. Sorry."

Leech shrugged and came over. He was gigantic. He towered over Bryce, who I considered to be ridiculously tall. But where Bryce was compact, Leech was broad and built like a football player. I took an instinctive step back. I doubted even Savannah's magic could take down this building masquerading as a man.

Her awed tone seemed to imply the same: "If that's the necro, we might have a problem."

His brown eyes glanced at me and then to the air beside me. Was it a good thing or a bad thing the necromancer could see Savannah? At least her voice could stop being just in my head.

Leech had a surprisingly warm expression, considering I had assumed all of Bryce's friends would be miserable from having been around him for so long. Not that I was still pissed about the crack about my chest. He turned to me, studying me carefully, taking his time to make up his mind. He picked up my hand and held it gently. His grip was surprisingly less firm than what I had been expecting. He was probably afraid of crushing my hand.

"When he said a witch was coming I didn't expect her to look as pretty as you."

I blushed a little, but couldn't help smiling. Bryce interrupted before I could respond. "You can flirt with her afterwards. Right now, just skip to the part where you talk to Dad. Please?"

"Dude. You know how to say please?"

Bryce stared at his friend and then at the same time they broke into identical grins. Bryce shook his head, still smiling. "Talk to the ghost."

"I have been," Leech said. "He got here hours ago. He explained the whole thing to me." The hand he was still holding squeezed a little, as he let me know that he wouldn't be spilling about Savannah anytime soon. Thank goodness.

"Could you please take over translation duties? It gives me a headache," I asked.

Leech nodded and Savannah said goodbye. That taken care of, Bryce said: "Sean's coming back tonight, so I need a place to crash. And the witch thinks people are trying to kill her, so we might have to keep her around."

"Sure. You hungry?"

"Yeah."

Leech gestured to the couch. "We can come up with a plan after. You can come with me if you'd like," he said to the air. Probably getting Savannah's perspective on the whole thing.

Bryce wasted no time in collapsing onto the red couch. I stood at the end and looked at him pointedly.

"I drove. You can sit on the floor."

"Glad to see chivalry isn't just dead, but buried."

I perched on the end of the couch, pushing his feet over just a little. He kicked at me, and I found myself on my ass beside the couch. Ow. Since I was down there, I stayed put. But just because I couldn't take him in a physical fight, didn't mean I couldn't have some fun...

I cast the lowest level wind charm I could. It was a puff of air only strong enough to blow out a candle. But sent against his feet, it proved most effective. I tried to look innocent as he fidgeted, trying not to do anything as undignified as laugh when being tickled. He glared, as only a Cabal son could, but I didn't care. It served him right.

He sat up, pretending it wasn't because of what I had done. He grabbed the controller and unpaused the game and easily began working through it.

"Who's the twelve year old boy now?" I muttered.

I actually think he blushed. "Shut up. I'm being supportive."

"Of your friend's stunted emotional growth?"

"Something like that."

"He still seems nice," I said as I took the opportunity to sit back on the couch. The vinyl squeaked as I sat. This time he let me stay.

"He is. Everybody likes him. And don't worry, he's not insane. The only reason we're friends is because we grew up together."

We lapsed back into silence as I watched him kill things on the screen. Not the best thing for my scarred psyche, but it did give me an opportunity at playing normal. In a strange way it helped, watching him play. Because on the screen it was clearly only red coloured pixels flying every which way. It was just some computer geek's imagination of what blood looked like. It wasn't real. And if that wasn't real, maybe I had just imagined what had happened to me. Maybe nothing had happened. It was just a bad dream.

I reached into my bag and pulled a cigarette out. "Will he mind?"

His eyes flickered to the cigarette, but his concentration was mostly on the game. "What did I tell you about smoking?"

"Does Leech share your inexplicable concern for my health?"

"You unhealthy?" Leech entered the room carrying a bag of Tostitos and some salsa. "Do you went veggies instead?"

"We were talking about how the two of you are going to die of cancer. That's all." Bryce shot something particularly nasty on the screen. "Go ahead."

I looked to Leech for confirmation. I didn't want to be rude, no matter how desperately I wanted the cigarette. Leech nodded and held his hand out for his own. He took it with a thank you, looked at Bryce for a minute, lit up and turned off the game. I didn't doubt he was studiously ignoring Savannah's protests. She was anti-smoking and even more so anti-me-smoking. Because even if I swore up and down I had never been addicted to anything in my life, no one quite believed me.

Leech leaned over and turned off the game. "I could have won it for you," Bryce complained.

"Sure," Leech drawled. "Right, dude, first off I have to tell you that I'm not supposed to tell you who the ghost is. That's against all sorts of necromantic law and whatever."

"I know. Why else would I come to you?"

Leech flinched a little and I elbowed Bryce in the side. I didn't know why his friend seemed upset by that but I didn't doubt he had known it would hurt. Necros shouldn't tell people when the ghosts of relatives show up, so it made sense that Bryce would go to his old friend. It also played right into our hands.

Feigning anger, I snapped at him: "Great. Now we can't call in outside resources or else they'll know what you've done, and by extension, me. Just great."

"No one's going to dare accuse me of breaking anything. And I don't particularly care what happens to you."

Leech broke in nervously. "Dude, the ghost agrees with Gillian. Shhh...he doesn't want you getting into any trouble for knowing about him."

Bryce snorted and switched gears. "Don't just say the ghost. It's annoying."

"I can't call him by his name. It's not...right."

Bryce laughed, as if Leech following procedure was a riot. I found a compromise between the two of them. "Why don't we give the ghost a completely random name?"

Bryce was prompt in providing a suggestion. "Kristof."

"Okay ghost, we hereby dub you, without any prior knowledge of who you were or anything of the sort, Kristof. And if it happens to be your real name, well, it was just a lucky guest."

Leech looked at me but satisfied himself with rolling his eyes. "That's completely illegal. I'm glad I'm the only one who cares. Now what's the plan?"

The two of us looked at Bryce, who asked the obvious. "Are you sure you have no necro blood?"

"Not that it would have been completely beyond my mother, but my father did work for the Cortezes," I reminded him. "They did all the standard workups on me. If I had necro blood they would have known about it."

"Right, then. The two of you talk to the ghost and find out why the hell it's appearing. I will be hanging around, magnanimously providing any resources as you so desire them."

"What about whatever attacked you?" Leech asked.

"Attacked her," Bryce corrected. "I'm sure Grant's already looking into it. Did you catch that Paulson? Tell Grant to look into it." So that's why he hadn't stared at me when I started talking to myself. He was crazy himself. But hey, when you had that kind of money, who cared how loony you sounded? Bryce stopped shouting at the walls and turned to Leech. "Now get off my couch and get to work."

"Dude, I know you practically live on the thing, but it is still mine," Leech reminded his friend.

"I bought it."

"And then gave it to me. A present means you trade ownership."

"That's a stupid rule."

Flipping his friend off, Leech got up and pointed to the bar at the back of the room, where he said it would be easier to work. I followed him, still dragging my bag full of texts and clothes. A nice brainstorming session would help, followed by whatever practical application we could come up with.

As Leech helped me onto the barstool—made for people who were not midgets—he said quietly: "Are you okay?"

I hadn't been okay in a long time. Longer than I cared to remember, actually. But worse than that, this was the first time in forever that someone had asked me that, just to find out the answer. There was no hidden accusations, no tinges of fear about I was about to do next. He was simply concerned for my well-being and wanted me to know he was there. I hadn't even known him for thirty minutes, but he was being nice to me. I was so unused to that, my eyes started watering before I could stop them. But it wouldn't do to cry in front of a complete stranger, so I pushed them down. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Leech squeezed my shoulder before sitting on the stool beside me. I gave him a grateful smile for the quiet gesture. Then we sat down and got to work.

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