Chapter 15

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Bryce came up on the roof a few hours later. Leech sent him—I had heard them arguing down below. Leech thought he should apologize, though I only knew that because Bryce hadn't bothered to keep his protests quiet. At least he was honest. You had to give him that.

"You need to..." he sought for the word as he stood above me. I didn't bother to help him. "Savannah's going to be in position soon. You have to be able to at least stay within a hundred feet of me."

I kept my eyes closed, just raised my middle finger. I could hear him turning around, making his way back towards the ladder. But he didn't climb down. He stayed on the roof. Twenty bucks said that Leech was waiting at the bottom.

"Maybe calling you a whore was beneath me," he said finally.

"Maybe?"

"Shut up." He began to pace. I hoped he tripped and fell off. "I don't actually think it's true."

"That makes me feel so much better."

"Christ, Gillian. What was I supposed to say? You were basically saying I'm a soulless monster. I should be allowed a crack about—"

"Yeah, but you actually are a soulless monster, whereas I am not a...I guess I am," I snapped. I sat up, eyes flashing. "Right? That's got to be the only reason I would fuck you."

"See? Why do you get to say shit like that, but all of a sudden I'm a bastard because I insulted you? You wouldn't accept anything from me even if I offered it to you on bended knees. Unless it was for Savannah. But you figured out how to get that kind of help from me almost the moment you met me—while keeping your clothes on, I might add. I still don't like how you did that."

"I already apologized for it. Didn't I?" I couldn't remember. Bryce finally risked sitting down and after I didn't immediately push him off, relaxed a little bit and shrugged, clearly unsure himself. "Well, I am sorry. It was beneath me."

He grinned and I found myself returning the gesture, almost shamefaced. Just because I liked to say he didn't have feelings—or a soul—didn't mean it was true. I offered, "I didn't mean all that stuff about you being evil incarnate, either."

"Liar," but at least he was smiling. "It bothers you that I killed the butler." From his tone of voice it was clear it didn't bother him. But it almost sounded like he was bothered that it bothered me.

I shook my head. "You ruin people's lives for a living. I know that. I don't get to be mad about it. I don't get to judge. It's what you do—what the Cabals do. If I couldn't accept it...I would have gone to Paige Winterbourne like I was supposed to."

"Then why the hell did we have that whole argument in the first place?" Bryce asked, reaching for me.

I pulled away, not ready to jump him just yet. This wasn't something I wanted to talk about. Especially not with a Nast. But I had got him shot and after ten minutes of complaining he had completely put it behind him. I was more than a little jealous—and just a little bit curious. Even if he wouldn't tell me how he did it, maybe I could figure it out myself.

"Dana MacArthur is my sister," I said quietly. "What do you know about her?"

"You're not going to run away?" My face must have been answer enough. He closed his eyes and tried to remember. "Dana MacArthur. Witch. Father worked for the Cortezes, Class D. Killed in Atlanta, Georgia by Edw—a vampire. She was in a coma when they found her. She never woke up."

"She was my big sister, two and a half years older and she never really let me forget it. She was the loud one. Gorgeous too—you would have liked her. She was fun and always laughing. She knew how to have a good time. She always let me have the last Oreo, though she made fun of the way I ate them. She wasn't...she could take charity like I never could, but she was incredibly generous when we had more than enough. Really generous. She always knew how to make me laugh," I said, choking back the tears.

Bryce was silent, for which I was grateful. I had to get this out at my own pace. I needed to say it out loud, because I shouldn't be the only one who could remember.

"She hated Disney cartoons but still thought Aladdin was kind of hot. She loved horror movies and knew how to sneak into more places than I could probably name. She was my best friend. In the whole world."

"She sounds pretty great," he said softly.

"She was. You know who else is pretty great, Bryce? Savannah."

I think he understood where I was going with this, but he let me continue.

"I bitch about her constantly and complain about her when I'm catching my breath, but the reality is she's pretty fucking awesome. She's fearless and self-assured and she questions everything she doesn't like and ends up figuring out how to get her way. She's kick ass in a fight. She's...always there for me. I'm almost an official mess and she's always there for me. Always. I think you'd like her if you just gave her a chance."

Bryce had the grace to look down. "I don't actually want her stuck in unknown dimensions," he admitted.

"Not good enough, Bryce. You have a chance to know this spectacular, amazing woman and the best you can do is agree not to leave her stranded? I just don't get how you can do that. I really just don't understand."

"You know who else was an amazing person, Gillian? My father."

"So that's it? You're own flesh and blood and that's it?"

He was gazing at the roof like it was going to start talking to him. I crawled over and touched his shoulder. When he looked up, I couldn't quite read his expression. "Truth?"

"That's the general idea."

"Do you know what it would do to my grandfather if he found out I had forgiven the woman who killed his son? He wouldn't be able to recover from that."

"Who said your grandfather has to know?" But even as I said it, I knew what his response would be. Thomas Nast was a Cabal CEO. They really did know everything. "Sorry. But it just seems dumb that you would let him run your life like that, even if he is your grandfather."

"It does, doesn't it?"

But he made no comment after that, just pulled me on top of him and proceeded to stop me from pursuing that line of thought further.

Leech called up a while later, telling us that the ghost was at the warehouse. I was half-asleep on the roof and it was only after Bryce half-picked me up that I actually paid attention to the words Leech was saying.

I pulled away so I could dust off the strange pieces of dust that had managed to cling to me. As Bryce waited patiently, I brought up that, "You should learn the spell, too. Just in case I need more power or something."

"I'll learn it on the way over," he said as he began climbing down the ladder.

He had to go slowly, because of his arm and I cringed a little at the reminder. Maybe he had gotten over it, but I hadn't. If Grant ever found out who had placed the call, I would kill them with my own hands.

I followed after Bryce, taking the ladder this time. Seeing as Leech had gone back inside I called down, "Bryce? Why can't Leech do the spell?"

He was holding the ladder steady at the bottom and I dropped down surrounded by him. But there was none of the activity I usually associated with him. Bryce was still, calm and thinking. "It's ugly and complicated, Gillian. He...if I tell you it'll change the way you think about him. And it wouldn't be fair. It's mostly my fault, anyway. Just leave it alone."

"Okay."

Bryce looked down at me, and sighed. "Thank you for restraining yourself from running away. And I am sorry about Savannah. But my hands are tied on this."

"But you don't regret it, do you?"

"I've never regretted anything in my life. It's just the way things have to be."

He was serious. That was scariest part. "Even your father?"

"It's not like he would have been home that much more if he hadn't died. Do you want to get your books first?"

I nodded and walked back inside the house. I wasn't sure if I felt sympathy or jealousy. And that's when I started to suspect that maybe Paige and Lucas were just a little bit right about their being something wrong with me. I wasn't supposed to feel sorry for a Nast.

I felt like I was in a presidential motorcade as we drove down the street. When Bryce said he was calling in an army, he wasn't exaggerating. Six cars, each filled with ten men, all of who had been told not to leave for any reason, unless Bryce walked right up to them and ordered it.

An armoured car had been sent for us and I was squeezed between Bryce and Leech in the back seat. Grant was driving and Paulson was in the front seat. Bryce gave them a whole list of orders, most of which were to not let him get killed. Leech was also made their responsibility. "And the witch," he added. "She's not to get a scratch on her or I will personally watch as people use your intestines to wrap Christmas presents. And protecting Gillian goes without saying."

I stared at him a moment. He was looking impatient, tapping a strange rhythm against the window. Did I just hear that right?

"You're staring."

He said it carelessly, still staring out the window. It took me a second to realize it was throwing me simply because he wasn't looking at me. He always seemed to make eye-contact effortlessly, even if it was only to bark orders.

"I know," I replied.

"I'm not doing it for you."

I couldn't help smiling. "I know that too, Bryce. Doesn't mean I can't be happy about it."

"That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble, Gillian," he snapped. It was only because Leech was huge so I was practically sitting in Bryce's lap that I noticed the faintest of colour appear on his cheeks. "And could you not lean on my arm? There's a hole in it."

"Baby," I said, moving away. I changed my mind and kissed his cheek. "And you like my mouth."

"Shut up and teach me the fucking spell," he sighed.

He learned it fairly quickly and the rest of the ride was mostly me, talking out loud, trying to figure all the other possible deviations that could occur. I was trying to work out the correct translation for 'close' when the words evaporated and I found myself fighting for breath.

My arm shot out, stopping inches from Bryce's. He stopped the spell immediately. "That's low Gillian."

"You could just tell me to shut up."

"I do that all the time. You just never listen."

It was a very good point and we rode the rest of the way in silence.

Disembarking from the car was quite the production. First Grant had to be sure that everyone else was in position—that took forever. They weren't taking any chances this time. Heads were going to roll if someone else got hurt.

Only when everyone else was ready did Grant and Paulson climb out, taking positions on either side of the car. They actually walked right around the vehicle, to switch sides, so that Grant was on Bryce's side of the car. They opened the doors, talking into headpieces the entire time. Bryce pulled me out on his side.

I pulled my bag of books out with me. With the army of men in black suits I couldn't help glancing around for the cameras. This couldn't be my life—clearly someone actually important was about to be assassinated. But the men didn't go away. Good. At least this time we weren't about to be left in the lurch.

"Let's do this thing," I announced, turning for the door.

When the shots rang out, Grant had me down on the ground before I could blink. All around us, men scrambled for cover. Leech and Paulson came around to join us, and we all crouched behind the car.

"What the fuck," Bryce spat. "I am so tired of being shot at."

"Savannah's here," Leech said. "She's waiting by the door for us."

"You can walk up to the door. I'm going to stay here until we figure out what the hell is going on here." Bryce grabbed me by the arm and yanked me back beside him. "You're not allowed to put a target on your head, idiot."

"I just wanted to see," I muttered.

Grant was shouting orders to the others, while Paulson pulled this enormous black monstrosity out from the car seats. He pointed it around the van and began to fire.

"They're back," Bryce muttered, peering from beneath the car. "Fucking great."

The men from the other day were doing the shooting, while the knights from two days ago came out behind modern bullet-proof shields. Of course.

Bryce glared me, like it was all my fault people kept trying to kill him in my presence. I did nothing, trying to figure out how we could get inside without getting killed. It wasn't even like a distraction could work...there were just too damn many.

"If they come from the portal, shouldn't we be able to get rid of them?" Bryce asked. "Don't you have a spell or something?"

"We might be able to do something if the portal was open," Leech shouted over the sounds of gunfire. "But right now, Savannah's stuck right in the middle of it."

"What about the sewers?" Bryce asked. "Warehouses have to have drains, right?"

"How the hell should I know, dude? I guess. Maybe there's a back way."

Bryce heaved a sigh of impatience. "Oh, fuck this."

And then he began to cast. It was a familiar spell, I realized quickly enough. The one he had used back in the ravine. Glancing at the warehouse, I could see the windows shaking, the walls trembling. Bryce kept casting, fury feeding the magic. The men from the past began to panic. Wherever in the past they were from, they clearly weren't from Cali, with it's ridiculous earthquakes every other week.

With the confusion, the guards began to mow them down. I couldn't watch—sure they were trying to kill me, but that didn't mean they deserved to be cut down like that. I watched Bryce getting paler as he began scrapping the bottom of his casting ability.

Something exploded to the right and I screamed, huddling closer. That hadn't been ancient weaponry. Peering under the car, I could see a man in black standing by the warehouse. Twelve-Thirteen. And they had brought grenades.

Bryce finally stopped, gasping for air. There were still men in the building, but fewer. "Grant, you think you could teleport her inside?"

"Mr Nast—" Grant bit off whatever he was going to say. "Yes, sir."

"How close do you need to be?"

"Fifty feet."

Bryce swore. I felt it was time to help out. "If we can get the car beside the wall we should be within fifty feet of the container."

"You take the car then," Bryce said. "And bring the she-devil back." We shared a quick smile and then he turned to Leech. "Tell Savannah to get beside the portal."

"I'll do that," I interrupted. The communication spell was mindless at this point. I relayed the plan to Savannah.

All she came back with was, "That's fucking stupid. See you there."

Grant spoke quickly to Paulson, ordering him to cover Mr. Nast while their employer took cover beside a vehicle that wasn't going to drive away. I crawled into the car, following Leech. Grant slipped into the front seat and once he was sure the other two were away safely, he sped off.

We dodged men and trucks and bullets and I felt completely sick to my stomach. But I wasn't about to throw up just yet—there wasn't much in my stomach left, anyway. I ducked down as far as I could and tried not to think about all this carnage, just because Savannah had wanted to get Paige a birthday present. At this point there was simply no backing down.

Grant slammed on the breaks, inches from the sidewall. He moved to take my arm, but I gestured to Leech.

"I'm useless until he tells me where the portal is."

Grant gave a wordless jerk of his head and took Leech's hand instead. One second they were in the car and the next, they weren't. I stayed close to the ground, terrified someone would come by and see me. My fears were well-founded. I heard shouting and saw someone turn the corner, running towards me, gun in hand. I slunk further down.

And then Grant was back, his hand was on my back and suddenly I wasn't in the car anymore. I was back in front of the yellow storage container. Grant put a finger to his lips and I nodded. As long as no one knew we were here, they couldn't try and kill us.

Leech gestured in the air, pointing out the space where the portal mouth was. He mouthed, "Savannah's there," and I nodded. We thought it was best to have her in position when we tried the spell.

Even with our combined spell power, there was only so many times I could cast the spell without being completely drained. I had to make sure it would count. With Savannah in place, I stood in front of the portal and recited the spell from the necromancer book, words that should have closed the portal.

Nothing happened.

I swore, and I knew Savannah was doing the same. Leech and Grant kept watch. I tried a different version, this one with a few modifications that tried to take into account the half-closed position of the portal. That didn't work either. A mental survey told me I had probably three or four tries left. And then we were just screwed.

"There's no way you could try?" I begged Leech.

His eyes grew wide, frantic with worry. His head shaking, he silently pleaded me not to press. I didn't have time for this—people were dying and we were standing right in the middle of a trap. If things went south, this was it.

"Just try. Necromancy is in your blood, you can't just stop."

"Down!" Grant snapped and I obeyed unthinking.

I was too slow. A man crashed on top of me, bowling me over. He had a giant knife in his hand and I frantically tried to get away as it barely missed my face, biting into my cheek. Giant hands were placed on either side of his head and he was pulled off of me, where Leech's hands threw him to the ground at Grant's feet, as the guard brought the butt of his gun down. My attacker took the force of the blow right in the forehead and lay still.

He was barely older than me and my stomach lurched again. Savannah's voice filtered through me.

"Gillian, please, I need you to concentrate."

I brought my hand to my cheek, making sure the wound wasn't deep enough to scar—I couldn't waste magic on a healing spell right now. My fingers came away bloody, but the skin seemed mostly intact. And then the clouds parted and the sun shone down and the light bulbs burst on in a brilliant flash—I knew.

"Give me the knife," I demanded. "Savannah, see if you can't get yourself to bleed."

"What are you doing?" Leech demanded, even as Grant handed over the weapon.

I took it, ignoring how my hands were shaking. Even the Cortezes had never bothered to accuse me of cutting. But I could do this. For Savannah.

Biting my lip to keep quiet, I slashed at my forearm. It wasn't a deep cut, but it stung like hell and blood was burbling out of it.

"Leech? You paying attention?" I asked. I barely waited for him to nod. "I think I know how to get Savannah out of there. But I might not be able to close the portal afterwards. So I need you to make sure to tell Bryce that he has to cast either the second or third variation of the spell in my notebook. You think you can remember that?"

"Second or third," he repeated, then his brain caught up with his mouth. "What are you doing, Gillian?"

"Getting her out of there."

And before he could tell me how stupid I was being, I began to chant.

Someone had throw Savannah into the portal. Someone who knew that most people who went inside time tears were never heard from again—or if they were, it was a hundred years later. But she hadn't fallen through. And I think that might have been my fault. The spell we had used, blood mixed with blood, had anchored us together. To pull her out, I was going to go in.

I could feel something as I chanted, a warmth beginning to surround me. The room around me flickered, become a row of shanties, becoming an old cabin, becoming a great forest and then a small one, and a smaller one.

Smaller and smaller and then the whole world seemed to disappear inside itself.

...