Chapter 6

...

We kept our voices low so Bryce wouldn't overhear us, but it didn't make much of a difference. Ten minutes after we had arrived, his cellphone rang and he walked out of the room with an apologetic look. He didn't come back.

I figured it would be best to start by going over exactly what had happened. That took a while. Leech was translating for Savannah but it was slow going, because she didn't exactly want to own up to it. Eventually I got the full story.

Savannah had been following a woman named Penelope Yi, a non-Coven witch. By day she was a successful OB/GYN at a local private practice. By night, she was practicing dark magic, adept at spells I didn't want to think about and at being a general pain in the ass. She had come to the interracial council's attention a few months before when they heard reports that a witch was boasting that she had the power to raise the dead. Disturbing the dead was a big no-no, even (especially) in the supernatural community. The council had gone investigating.

All they had managed to uncover—surprise, surprise—was that the whole thing was a big old hoax. Yi could do a few healing spells that were quite extraordinary, but nothing that constituted breaking any sort of life/death divide. Where she had learned those spells, however, was something that had caught Savannah's attention. She had copied the address down from the file Adam had shown her and had slipped back when she had the opportunity.

Instead of sneaking into the woman's house when she wasn't home and stealing her grimoires like a normal person, Savannah had followed her to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Savannah's logic—if it could be called that—was that she had to make sure that no one else had the grimoire. But when Yi had met up with three other women and started talking about babies, Savannah had become impatient. She walked into the middle of the group and asked for the grimoire. I could guess the rest.

She only ever saw Yi attack her for sure, but she was hit by a few sorcerer spells. One of the other women even charged her with some sort of knife. Savannah had slipped down a different row of whatever was in the warehouse (she hadn't bothered to pay attention to that) and then one of the unknown women shouted something. That's when Savannah found herself invisible and unable to interact with the world. Five minutes later Kristof had shown up and tried to help her along to the ghost world. When that didn't work, they set out after me. Or rather, Savannah set out for me. Leech managed to convey that Kristof had been under the impression they were going to see Paige Winterbourne. Savannah was like me that way—we liked having our dirty little secrets.

"Repeat the address," Leech asked as he wrote down the location of the warehouse. If it hadn't been magic that caused Savannah's predicament it would probably be a portal, even though Kristof assured us the ghosts had found no portals there. "That seems really familiar."

"You know it?"

He seemed rather shaken. "It...never mind. Should I ask her to repeat the spell?"

It was really rather ridiculous to rely on broken telephone to transmit this kind of information. Leech did his best and then I cast the communication spell so Savannah could say it directly in my head. But who even knew how close she was getting to the correct answer? In an even more disturbing turn of events she informed me she could only cast the communication spell after I called for her. That shouldn't have happened; it should have worked both ways.

I started translating the spell and had Leech look through my grimoires to see if there was something similar inside of them. We looked. And looked. And turned up nothing.

"Is she sure that's how the spell went?" I asked Leech for the hundredth time. He nodded, looking up from the notes he was reading.

"She says that's pretty close," Leech promised.

I tried saying the spell again, hoping the words would reveal some sort of secret. But they basically translated to open up, slip inside the chasm, blah, blah, blah, blah...not quite helpful.

"You're saying it wrong."

I jumped a little. I hadn't notice Bryce come back.

"You know the spell?" I asked eagerly.

He shook his head, coming over to glance at the grimoire in his friend's hand. "That doesn't mean you're not saying it wrong."

"I figured that out when it didn't work."

Leech was watching thin air and then he turned to Bryce. "How do you think it should sound?"

Bryce motioned to me to repeat myself and I did, maybe a little annoyed, but still willing to try anything that might help Savannah. The evil half-brother listened with his eyes closed a couple of times, finger tapping lightly on his side. Then he repeated the spell back to me.

His accent was atrocious. Not just bad but ridiculously bad. If he had been trying to speak Greek, no one would have been able to understand him. But then he opened his eyes and grinned.

"It's a necro spell," he announced. He asked Leech: "You sure you hadn't heard it before?"

The big man shook his head as I intercut. "You're not even saying it properly. How can you possibly know what kind of spell it is?"

"It's definitely necro. Sorcerer spells usually have shorter repetitive cycles, and witch spells are a lot more lyrical."

"You can really tell all that..." I trailed off, uncertain. "That's interesting." It was worth a try. Keeping in mind what he said about the stress of the words, I tried the spell again. "More like that?"

"I have no idea," Bryce admitted. "The overall sound is right. I don't know about the specific."

I tried a few different variations, changing the words to fit Bryce's rhythm. Eventually, Leech spoke up. "Kristof says that's it. That was the spell."

"Spell that did what?" Bryce asked curiously.

"I was at this warehouse and I got hit with that spell. Next thing you know I can talk to your...ghost," I finished for Leech's benefit as I began writing down a phonetic representation of the spell Savannah had given me.

"Check out the address," Leech said. "Does that seem familiar to you?"

Bryce took the sheet of paper from his friend's hand. "Yeah, it does. Let me check first, but I think I know it. That's not going to be good."

"I know. What have you been up too?" Leech asked, apparently eager for a break.

"Problems at the office. Tax season and the accountants are beginning to froth at the mouth. They really need to look up the word vacation. Dude, I'm starving. I'm ordering pizza, 'kay?"

"Sure. Hey, Gillian," Leech got my attention by placing a hand on the top of the notebook. "What do you want on your pizza?"

"I'm fine."

"You do you actually eat, don't you?" Bryce said. "Because saving your life is as far as I'm going. I'm not rushing you to the hospital for malnourishment."

"I eat." Leech snorted and I knew Savannah had said something. "I do. I am just a little tired of everyone else making me. So I will have a piece of whatever kind of pizza you'd like. One piece. Because I am not hungry. And I'm not hungry because I had half a bag of chips before and not because I have a problem."

"And the overly defensive witch of the year award goes to..." Bryce was smart enough to take a step back so that my foot couldn't reach his knee. "Relax, MacArthur. Having exclusively dated women with eating disorders, I can safely tell you that I respect your decision to starve yourself to death. As long as you don't keel over, we aren't going to have a problem."

That really didn't make me feel all that better.

...

Leech brought out the few necromantic books he owned and spent most of the time glancing guiltily at the empty space I associated with Kristof Nast. I wanted to demand to be told what the problem was, but couldn't seem to figure out a way to make it my business.

One of the books was amazing. I had never seen anything like it. Not that it looked remarkable—a little old perhaps, but so were a lot of grimoires. It was the content that was terrifying. The pictures were especially gruesome, all rotting corpses and body parts. But the spells...there was a reason necromancy was considered the darkest power. Death was supposed to bring release. A powerful necromancer could destroy that in more ways than I had allowed myself to imagine. No wonder Leech didn't want people knowing he had these kinds of books.

It was in that book that I found the spell. The woman who had cast it must have been a necromancer. More importantly, knowing where the spell came from told us what it did. It opened the door to a portal.

"Kristof says there wasn't a portal there," Leech insisted.

"Well, it he must be wrong," I pointed out. Leech seemed affronted by the very idea. I ignored that. "We should head back to the warehouse tonight and see what we can find."

"Kristof is sure there wasn't a portal there."

"It won't hurt to look."

Bryce entered with the pizza just then and cut off our argument. Leech apologized to the invisible people and then hurried over to the fresh food. I stayed were I was, trying to figure out if there was spell that could be performed to close the portal, or at least get Savannah out of there. The two men at least had the decency to keep the volume down as they played video games. I wasn't sure how old they were but I could guess too old for video games, though I said nothing. That wasn't my business. Savannah was.

But with Leech gone she began repeating Kristof's warning. "Ghosts can always tell where portals are. He says there isn't one there. If you are going to investigate, he suggests you have a little bit more to go on. Walking to your place took me almost all day. It'll take me a while to get back there."

"I'm not sure what else I can do," I admitted. "I could call Paige—"

Savannah's voice broke in saying that was not an option. I knew that. But I was getting rather frustrated. There was no way to know if I was on the right track until I tried and I couldn't try until I was on the right track. I hate Catch-22s.

I tried some of the spells to return her to this dimension, but most portal spells required me to actual be at the site of the portal. It wasn't surprising when nothing seemed to work. "Let me try the Hebrew variation—"

The rumbling of my stomach cut me off. I cringed and tried to talk over it but Savannah cut me off. "I can't believe it, but I think the evil half-brother is right. You really are starving yourself to death."

"Shut up," I thought back. "I'm busy trying to help you."

"You can't help if you pass out," she said logically. "Kristof wants to let me talk to some of his ghost buddies. See what they can do from the other end. You take a break."

"I don't need a break. I'll keep researching."

She broke the communication spell and when Leech suddenly turned around I suspected what she had done. The big man grinned and climbed over the couch. "I have been told you're taking a break," he said. "Would you like to sit down? Because I've been told to make you if you refuse."

"She's being ridiculous. I don't need—"

I shrieked a little when Leech picked me right off the chair. He moved fast for someone that big. Not that I appreciated being thrown over his shoulder like a child. Even if he did feel me up as he did it.

"Put me down or I'll make you regret it," I threatened.

There was a snort from the couch, but Leech just laughed. "How?"

Poor boy. I fought dirty. Hands slipped down to his ass and squeezed.

His grip loosened in shock and I landed on my hands. I didn't have enough momentum to make it much more than a handstand, but I managed not to fall on my head either. Righting myself, I fixed my shirt and made my way to the couch with as much dignity as I could.

Bryce moved the pizza box as he laughed, freeing up the middle of the couch. I would have preferred to refuse, but Leech pushed past me and sat in his original spot and so, mind made up for me, I sat between them, nibbling on the pizza.

It was covered in hot sauce and barbecued chicken. It was absolutely disgusting. Bryce noticed and shrugged. "You should have told me what you wanted."

I ignored that and took a sip of his beer. "We should head over to the warehouse."

"You can't," he said, eyes never leaving the screen where he was trying to kill his friend. Leech was running through rooms, but couldn't seem to escape. Why did it not surprise me that Cabal sorcerers were good at killing things? "Why the hell were you there in the first place?"

"I followed this witch. Why? What was that place?"

"It's Nast property. No one should have been there. There should have been wards. You shouldn't have been able to get in."

"There weren't wards." I had asked Savannah that, and there was no way she would refrain from boasting about taking them down.

"There should have been."

"If they're weren't, all the more reason to go back now. Before—"

"I've already sent Paulson over. If the wards are still down, I'll take you tonight, myself. But if they're up, you're going to have to wait to check it out."

"Until when?" Savannah's condition didn't seem serious, but then that was something she would hide from me. I wanted to help her sooner rather than later.

"I've arranged to visit tomorrow so you can go then. God, my father better appreciate this. I'm playing tour guide to a witch."

Leech shifted uncomfortably, but I called his bluff. With more confidence than I had, I announced: "It doesn't bother you that I'm a witch."

"Says who?"

But Bryce was still amused, so at least I wasn't going to get shot for insubordination. "Oh, come on. I've been talked down to sorcerers before. You're being a jerk, but only in the most general way. Hell, even when I saved that other sorcerer's life he still talked down to me worse. Calling me witch occasionally doesn't count."

"You want the honest to goodness truth?"

He was smirking and I should have said no. It wouldn't be nice, whatever it was. But I was curious. "Yup."

"You sure you want that, Gillian?" Leech asked. "The speech is long and not nice."

The speech? Now I was definitely curious. "Give me the speech."

Bryce paused the game, and actually turned to face me. The Cabal mask was on his face, a smooth, hateful look that made me want to shrink back.

"I do hate witches. I hate them because they're pathetic and useless. They can't do powerful magic and yet want to be considered our equals. They can't get over themselves—the Inquisition was five hundred fucking years ago. Move on. They're powerless and weak and mostly unattractive. And the one time I condescended to sleep with one—" He broke off, shuddering. "Have you ever been put into a body bind?"

"Yes," I said automatically. Then I understood what he meant. "But not during sex."

"It's not pleasant. Fuck, go out and buy a vibrator and leave me alone."

"That's a pretty petty reason."

"Oh no," Leech muttered.

Bryce grinned. "You want to hear my reasons for hating other people?"

I glanced back at Leech who was shaking his head. "Go right ahead."

"I hate shamans because they're lazy, tired and their magic is mostly useless or some new wave crap that only sounds good if you're stoned. Half-demons are boring—they're one trick ponies, all of them, and yet they want you to cower in fear. The power is gone in a generation anyway. It's absolutely useless. Necromancers seem to think I liked listening to stories about dead, they're depressing as hell and they really have no sense of humour when it comes to gore. I hate sorcerers because they seem to think they're entitled to be my friend and looking down your nose all that time takes too much effort. I hate vampires because they're fucking murderers. I hate werewolves because no one should age that slowly and a bunch of guys running after each other naked in the woods is just a little too homoerotic for my tastes."

"So that's the entire supernatural community gone. Does that mean you like humans?" I was kind of scared at what he was going to say, but at the same time, kind of intrigued.

"No," Leech intercut. "You are not encouraging him. He could can do this all day and I'm too tired to listen. Dude, it's your vacation. Stop hating."

Bryce rolled his eyes, but did as he had been asked, picking up the controller and getting back to the game. Leech made himself more comfortable beside me and then asked, "Have you ever cow raced before, Gillian?"

Leech switched games and tried to teach me how to play. I was pretty bad, but I got the hang of it eventually. Bryce wasn't nearly as good at this as he as a the shooting game and eventually he had to resort to elbowing me in the side in order to win.

"A Nast who cheats? What a surprise," I snapped as his cow knocked into mine, yet again.

"At least you didn't stop to rant about minion rights this time. Oh, I'm sorry. Was that not political correct enough for you? What was it you said I had to call them? Employees?"

Leech spoke up. "Don't knock the minions, dude. I'm descended from minions."

"Did I tell you your dad came into my office and demanded I fire Mariah yesterday? He's fucking power mad, man."

"Some things never change."

On the next round, Bryce had to rip the controller right out of my hands in order to win. It wasn't fair but there didn't seem to be any sort of judge around, so I took matters into my own hands.

I accidently dropped pizza in his lap.

He stared at me for a moment in horror. On my other side Leech burst out laughing. I didn't say anything at all, beyond a nonchalant, "Oops."

Bryce's eyes narrowed and he scooped part of the sauce and cheese up into his hand. I shrank back but he looked past me and threw them right into his friends face.

Leech was still laughing as he pulled it out of his eyes. He gave me a smirk and an outrageous eyebrow wiggle. "You want to lick it off?"

I didn't answer as Bryce chose that moment to dump the rest on top of my hair. Shrieking, I scrambled off the couch as pieces of tomatoes got all over my clothes. Bryce didn't seem concerned, not even glancing down at the mess in his lap, just turning his attention to the game. "You can lick it off me when you're done with Leech."

I flipped him off and Leech told me where the bathroom was before it could get uglier. I may have knocked my duffle bag into Bryce's head on the way out.

The shower was the most beautiful experience of my life. It was warm and quiet and I stayed there a lot longer than I should have, curled at the bottom. I absent-mindedly traced the contours of my ribs and some part of me acknowledged that I had to start forcing myself to eat. But at least I was warm again.

I pulled on my pyjama shorts and then found the bulkiest sweater I had brought with me. There was no sense in advertising the fact a good breeze would knock me over. Leech seemed nice enough, but they were both still a lot stronger than I was and I didn't want to remind them of it.

It was only on my out of the shower that I realized that the shampoo was almost disgustingly floral. I glanced around the bathtub and found another bottle, this one the generic, scentless stuff. Curious, I opened the mirror cabinet to reveal an extra used tooth brush and some products I doubted belonged to Leech. That meant, unfortunately, there was a woman living in the house. All the nice ones were taken.

We played a little longer once I got out of the shower, after Bryce announced the wards were back up at the warehouse and therefore we couldn't go that night without bringing Cabal security down on us. It was in my best interest to avoid that scenario, but it didn't mean I liked just doing nothing. All night, I kept waiting for Leech to announce the return of Savannah but he never did. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing. I wasn't the person who helped. I was the fuck-up Paige and Lucas always felt obligated to help because they felt vaguely responsible for her sister dying—I didn't do the helping. Where did you start?

Leech offered me his bed for the night. I wondered where the mysterious woman was, but didn't ask. Bryce insisted we weren't here to kick Leech out of his own house and I had to agree with that. Bryce promptly claimed the guest bedroom for himself and the couch for me. In turn, I kicked him out of my "bedroom" and shut off the TV. I was exhausted.

But when I was alone on the couch, huddled under the three blankets Leech had brought for me, I couldn't sleep.

I still felt dirty, even with slightly damp hair. I could still smell the blood from the other night, feel it across my face. But it wasn't just that...it was Dana all over again. I was going to have to watch, unable to do anything as Savannah eventually ended up...I had to stop thinking like that. I had to; I wasn't a helpless little kid anymore. I could stop this. I had found the spell, now all I had to do was reverse it.

I lit up a cigarette after awhile and paced up and down the room. I was safely hidden away but I couldn't stop worrying. Should I go out looking for Savannah? Should I call the other girls, make sure they were safe? Or did they think I was somehow responsible for Tia's death? I had pushed that thought away, but now it was back with a vengeance, not leaving me alone for even an instant. I couldn't believe it. I had thought things were supposed to stop going to hell. Paige had promised that therapy was supposed to do something. Yet here I was, right back at the beginning. I was all alone and there was a dead girl out there that I could have saved.

I just about jumped out of my skin when I heard the faint knocking at the door. It opened before I had a chance to respond. I took another drag of my cigarette and brought my hand to my head in exasperation. "I thought you were sleeping."

Bryce shrugged, still completely dressed. "I'm just in the next room and I can hear you pacing. It's keeping me up. Go to sleep."

"I will," I promised. Soon. When I stopped going crazy.

He continued into the room and for a completely irrational second I hoped he'd come in here to distract me. But he walked right past me to the window. "Come here," he ordered.

I did, shivering as I moved my socked feet along the cold floor. Nothing seemed to keep me warm at night. He was staring out the window but when I approached he turned around and kept his gaze on the middle of the room. "Watch this." And then he said loudly, "Paulson, Grant. Inside, TV room. Now."

For a second nothing happened. And then right in front of me appeared two gigantic men in dark black suits. Actually, though they towered over me, after meeting Leech they seemed sort of diminutive. The one on the right actually was probably the closest to my height in the entire house and he had to be at least five ten. I was in Brobdingnag. Yay.

They made an interesting looking pair. The one that was slightly forward was older with a sleek bald head and a look that suggested even Bryce Nast couldn't disturb him. But he was much too short for a body guard—Bryce was actually taller than him. The other was a little less calm, eyes darting between his partner and his boss. He was only a few years older than me, which was surprising. Usually bodyguards were older. He towered the other two and the spiked red hair added even more inches to the height difference. His skin shone in the half-light, making him look like a ghost, especially in comparison to his dark partner.

"Meet Grant and Paulson," Bryce said with a flourish. "The reason you should be sleeping soundly and not pacing."

"Which one's the Expiscor?"

"Paulson," the older one said gesturing to his partner. "We're at your service, Miss MacArthur."

Paulson jerked a arms in my direction, about to offer his hand and then thinking better of it. Grant had no such compunction, and stuck out a hand for me to shake. But it was brief, a reminder of how the Nasts treated their employees. They weren't people, they were tools.

"My bodyguards have the quickest turnover rate in the company," Bryce boasted proudly. "So you see, Gillian, if they want proper severance when they quit, they have to do a bang up job now."

"We take our job must more seriously than Mr. Nast implies. No one will come within fifty feet of this house without our knowing and we will remove you from danger immediately upon sensing something." Grant was clearly the only one who dared to speak. Paulson just looked at the floor.

"You're safe with Grant. I mean, he might leave me behind, but not you. He has a thing for blondes. Funny quirk for an Abeo, but what are you going to do? "

An Abeo? Abeo's were very rare and for that reason prized by the Cabals. Unlike common teleporters they weren't limited to horizontal planes and could move as far away as fifty feet instantly. That made them excellent at breaking in entering, and a whole other host of quasi-legal activities that Cabals specialized in. An Abeo could have his pick of jobs, within the company. If he didn't want to be here, nothing could have stopped him.

So Grant wanted to be with Bryce. Maybe he liked spending his days frantically chasing after his boss. We all have our quirks. But if he was here by choice that meant Bryce had been teasing before which meant they were friendly which meant...

"Oh god. Please tell me you're not trying to make me feel better." I couldn't handle that. Not after the day I had. I liked keeping things simply. Savannah was nuts, I researched and all Nasts were evil incarnate. Anything else was going to be a problem.

"I'm trying to get to sleep." He looked incredibly annoyed, but a tiny smile had flitted across Grant's face.

"I'm going to be sick," I muttered and then doubled over.

One second I was about to hurl on Leech's polished floor and the next there was a trash can in front of me, catching the half-digested pizza that came up from my stomach. Hands brushed the hair back from my face as I continued to spew up dinner. When I had finished making a fool of myself, I glanced up at Grant who let go of my hair and moved aside. He glared at Paulson for a moment, before the younger man hurried from the room.

"It's like I said. He's useless," Grant complained quietly.

Bryce ran a hand through his hair. "He can hear you and he just needs more time. We're running out of possibilities; I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel as it is. Just give the guy a damn break."

"He's too slow. And he's not learning."

Their argument was cut off by a blushing Paulson who handed me a glass of water. I took it was a grateful smile, as Bryce tried to stare down Grant.

As I rinsed my mouth they both backed off to give me room. With no trace of arrogance, Grant stated a simple fact: "I am the best, Miss MacArthur. There is nothing to worry about."

And just because he said it, I believed him. "Thank you."

"I am so offended right now, I can't even form words," Bryce said. "I've never made anyone throw up before. Not accidently, at any rate."

Any angry retort I might have made was swallowed by shame. I just said wearily, "I told you three pieces was a bad idea."

"What the hell happened to you?" What hadn't? But he thankfully he didn't wait for an answer, just complained to Grant, "You've never done that for me."

"When you drink what you do, you bring it on yourself. Sir."

Grant's expression never wavered and then next instant he was gone. Bryce finally let his smile come through, but when he noticed me watching he scowled again. And then he just shrugged and decided not to bother. He left the living room, calling over his shoulder:

"Sleep well Gillian. If you need anyone, Leech's room is the one at the end of the hall, on your left."

I went back to the couch and tried to fall asleep, knowing Savannah was invisible somewhere nearby, and probably mocking the fact I was a wreck. As I drifted off into my beautiful dream world, all the people I had failed over the years slowly rescinded to the background.