Chapter 35

Paige left to see Margaret off. Sean left to avoid the awkwardness (his excuse was that he wanted a coffee, but he practically sprinted to get it; maybe he was that much of a caffeine freak, but I doubted it). It was just me and mother alone in a room.

"I think he might have really have killed me dead," Lynsay said, tapping her talons on the wooden table.

"If he had really wanted to, you'd be dead already. He just wanted to scare you."

"Gillian?" The word was tentative, almost forgotten by her tongue. "It's not safe. Working in a personal capacity? I've heard it called lots of things, but it never ends well for the one who isn't a sorcerer."

There was no anger or condemnation. It was just a simple statement of fact; a fact I knew all too well. It almost sounded like she was saying it to be helpful, so I replied calmly.

"It's a little more complicated than that. A lot more complicated than that."

"It just feels that way. It's not very complicated at all. The Cabals—nah. Men make it very simple. You do it their way, or you have to get lost. And you never end up liking their way."

"I know."

The silence returned, but it was almost comfortable now. Don't ask me how that happened. I stuck to fiddling with the buttons on my blouse and wondering what Thomas would say. Would he rather have the heir, or just get rid of me? Bryce wouldn't like it if Thomas asked him to take care of it; he had almost bit my head off, and we both knew I was speaking in the abstract. What would he do if he thought his grandfather would ask him to abort...I still did not get why he chose that to be religious about. It just didn't make sense. Not with Savannah around.

Eve Levine had been powerful, but it still didn't make sense that she had kept Savannah. Cabal bastards were a bad idea—just ask Lucas Cortez. In Savannah's case it had helped no one had ever really knew for certain. If Eve was with Kristof now maybe it had been more to her than that, back then, but I still didn't get it. Maybe she had just really wanted kids...

"Mom?" It was strange to say, but familiar too. "They didn't steal Daddy. He just didn't want you anymore."

"I know."

The large room almost swallowed her whispered statement, but I heard her anyway. She didn't leave it at that. Her voice was louder when she spoke again.

"But why was I always the bad mother? We tried to be nice to you, but you kept throwing it in our faces. You never forgave me for leaving your father even though he left me first. He left me years before I walked out so how come you blamed me for everything? Acting out, staying away all night, stumbling home drunk, walking around the house in those stupid see-through shirts and then complaining about him. You never appreciated all the shit I had to put up with just to put a roof over your head. Why couldn't you stop blaming me?"

Something inside me broke as she said that. Tears prickled my eyes, but I managed to choke out, "That wasn't me. Don't you remember? I was trying so hard...I never said anything about the smoking and I covered for him all those times he couldn't go to work because he was drunk. I even let him pinch my cheeks even though Dana said...can't you remember?

I don't think she could. We always looked too much alike, Dana and I. She couldn't tell, not even in her memories.

"I never said anything because I got it. I knew Daddy never came after us. I understood. I tried to help. But why couldn't you make Dana see?"

Everything became blurred, and I furiously blinked the tears from my eyes. Why had it been so hard? Dana was always angry, always crying. I had been happy—with my imagination even the sting of taking charity wasn't so bad. So why didn't Dana think it was enough? I remember Dana screaming, throwing empty beer bottles to the ground, telling Mom to get rid of the bastard. He never did anything but make suggestive comments—I was sure of it because Dana made a point of telling me his every sin—but Mom had let him stay, keeping him around until Dana couldn't stand it. Until Dana had come home one night, half drunk and throwing clothes into a bag, despite my pleas. And Dana had walked out and never noticed.

But I couldn't hate Dana for leaving. I never had been able to. It was easier to blame him and his constant leer, easier to blame Lynsay for sitting in the bathroom and ignoring her daughters, even easier to blame Randy for just not being there. It was easier to blame the whole world for not making Dana stay than to think for an instant that Dana deserved even part of the blame for leaving.

It was easier to blame my thirteen year old self for not doing enough to stop her, for not wrapping myself around her leg until she calmed down. I would rather do that than speak a word against her, so I blamed myself for years and years. And now I placed the guilt around my mother's neck because I was so tired of carrying it all the time.

"Why didn't you make Dana stay?"

The fight had left my mother a long time ago, leaving her a tired old woman in bright colours and a skirt that was a couple inches too short for a person of her age. "Sugar, you know I ain't never been any good at getting someone to love me. I wasn't—I didn't know what to do with her."

"Couldn't you have done something? Anything? She just wanted..." But I didn't know. I had never known and then she was dead.

"Maybe. And that's on me." She sighed. "I don't know what you're Daddy told you, Gillian, but it wasn't ever your fault. It was his and mine and hers and some really rotten luck. She would have come back—I did, when I left home the first time. And she was her Daddy's girl. It took him years before he stopped coming home every time he left me. She would have come back to us."

"No. I don't think she would have."

"She loved you," Lynsay insisted. "She would have come back."

Once again, my mother was wrong.

"Why couldn't we go see her? Just one last time?"

"You think they offered to pay, you think again. I couldn't afford it." The bravado faded. "What would have been the point? She wouldn't've wanted me there; she would have wanted her Daddy, maybe, but not me. Would have made her furious to see me. Wouldn't have wanted me even in the same city—and I sure as hell couldn't send you by yourself."

"No, I suppose not."

"And I was still so...so damn mad at her for leaving that way, I couldn't—I couldn't. I know I should've gone, but I was just so mad. By the time I wasn't..."

It had been far too late for a long time, by then.

"We should have made her stay."

"Oh, sugar," she sighed. "Gillian, if I have learned anything in my life—and I know you don't think I have, and maybe you're right—but if I have, it's that you can't make people do the things you want 'em to do. Not for long, anyhow."

Bryce came in twenty-seven minutes later looking angrier than usual—and with a look of hard won triumph on his face. He sank into one of the chairs set up along the wall and announced: "He should be here in five minutes. Where's everyone else?"

"Paulson?" I called. The bodyguard entered quickly. "Could you please find Paige and Sean and tell them they can come back now?"

He nodded. I could hear Grant disappearing, summoning the others. My mother excused herself to use the washroom, with more subtly than Sean had displayed. Weird as it was, I was grateful to her.

"You look worse than terrible," I said as I settled myself on his lap. It took a moment, but his arm wrapped around my waist. "So what's the story?"

"It's not that bad," he said with a shrug, convincing himself more than me. "I was thinking it would be a lot worse."

"Bryce..."

"The two of you are overruling me. He obviously would rather kill himself than have anything to do with witches ever again. You don't want the hassle of having a Cabal bastard. And I—well, he wouldn't have believed it if I had gone along with it, so when he gets here—"

"You have to pretend to be hopelessly in love with me." I couldn't help grinning, even if I was doing it more to cheer him up than because I found it funny. "You have to be all sappy and sweet and—oh! You should write me a poem."

"Shut up, Gillian. We could also play it that I just want you gone."

"The only way you'd let anyone do something their way instead of your way was if it really was your way in the first place." Duh. "That means you have to benefit from this arrangement; seeing as it goes against your inexplicable religious beliefs—"

"It's not a religion thing," he snapped. "It's...okay, so it's partially a religious thing. But I believe because...it's family. You just don't do that to your flesh and blood."

"Okay," I said quietly. My father killed himself on the day of my first big meet at UCLA, so I'd take Bryce's word that there were some things you didn't do to your family. "Whatever your reasons are, you clearly value them. You wouldn't agree to change your mind for a bimbo you hate."

"But I would if I wanted to keep you for after." Smart boy. "Damn. You're probably right. No wonder Grandpa wants you gone so fast. There's nothing worse to him than the sin of possibly being happy."

"Bryce...he's got to know by now that I'm associated with the Cortezes. The fact I'm leveraging this against him means I'm just with you for what it'll get me. He's trying to be...he just wants you not to get stuck with a gold-digging whore. That's all."

"You're not a gold-digging whore."

"Why, thank you. But Thomas thinks I am. He's just doing it to protect you."

"Don't do that, Gillian. It's creepy hearing you defend Grandpa. And having you be nice to me is just scary."

"Why did you try and kill my mother?"

"What?"

I laughed at his confusion. "What deal did she break? You lied to her first."

"People aren't allowed to talk to me like that."

"I do."

"But you do it in your indoor voice."

Even the not-so brief kiss could distract me. "You told her to be nice, or at least polite. Ordered her, more like. As part of your deal."

"I told her a lot of things."

"Okay. Sure." He glared, which just made me giggle harder. He was a little bit of an idiot to think my mother could have an entire conversation without insulting me, but I was still grateful he had tried. "Just so we're clear, you started it, Bryce. Not me."

There was a sharp knock on the door, which meant I was standing up by the time Grant ushered Paige and Sean into the room. They were surprised to hear that Thomas was coming, but they never verbalized their curiosity, and for that, I was grateful.

Thomas Nast arrived exactly when Bryce had said he would, knocking once on the door. Sean went to open it and I'm pretty sure he warned his grandfather to behave, because it was another moment before Thomas walked into the room. He had probably just gotten out of meeting and didn't look happy at all to be here. But at least he had shown up.

Sean began to explain the spell carefully as Thomas listened with half an ear, still examining his surroundings with overt disgust. My mother took a step closer to me and said only partially under her breath, "Ain't he pleased with himself."

Thomas glanced up and didn't appear happy. "Are the witches required for this procedure or are they here merely to be bothersome?"

"We're going to wait outside until you learn the spell," I said quickly, grabbing my mother's arm before she could say something else. "Just come and get us when you're done."

Paige understood it was the only thing to do and followed me out. It may have been a retreat, but at least it was a strategic one. We needed Thomas to cooperate. There was no sense in angering him until later. That didn't mean I liked it, or him. I had only defended him to get Bryce to stop scowling for a second. But I knew when I wasn't strong enough to go on the offensive and I wasn't about to jeopardize my chances of helping Savannah.

"What the hell is wrong with that sorcerer?" Lynsay demanded.

"He can get worse," I assured her.

"Gillian?" Paige asked. "Why did he agree to come?"

"Because he likes me so much?"

"He know you're with his grandson?"

I stared at Lynsay. I don't know why her bluntness surprised me. When she knew something she wasn't supposed to know—and she was worse than my all-hearing father at figuring out what she shouldn't—she never could stop herself from blurting it out.

"Since I'm not technically with his grandson..." I blushed and finally told Paige, "He's here sort of to make sure that doesn't happen."

"I thought you said you had only known Bryce for a week?"

"We're keeping that part on the down low," I admitted. "Really, really down low, Paige. As in...you might not want to repeat that fact if you don't want us all killed."

Her face lost a little of its colour. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Where was the fun in that?

It didn't take long for Thomas Nast to learn the ritual. We were brought back into the conference room. We all took our places in silence, Thomas on my right-hand side.

"Would've thought you could afford surgery to remove that stick from your ass," Lynsay said to the Nast CEO.

Thomas flushed, completely offended, but Bryce cut him off. "He's not saying anything unless it's the spell. So there's no use trying to talk to him."

Thank goodness for small mercies. I began the ritual. It was the third time, so if ever magic numbers were to come into play, this would be it. The second Lynsay and Thomas joined in, I knew it was going to work. I could feel the difference in the power. This time it would work and I would get to talk to Savannah. As we held hands and I cast, drawing on the combined power, the fourth candle quickly burst into flame. It was really going to—

My mind was jolted away from the stream of thoughts, wretched with such force I collapsed, falling onto my mother. Talons dug into my shoulder as I heard her shriek, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Paige was beside me, ruining the circle. She was dabbing a cloth against my nose—it was bleeding again and I couldn't seem to stop shaking. Faintly, I could hear Thomas defending himself, "You're the one who broke the spell."

"You weren't supposed to do that," my mother said.

My vision was still blurry but I pushed Paige away from me and climbed out of my mother's lap, holding the tissue to my nose. Thomas was a faint pale shape but I knew he was glaring. That's what sorcerers like him did after all. Mopping up the blood, all I did was smile. "It was working. Should we try again?"

"What went wrong?" Paige asked.

My mother was glaring at Thomas and his grandsons seemed to follow her lead. I intervened. "He just needs to stop thinking so loudly. Otherwise, I'm picking up too much of him and not enough of her."

Sean spoke up. "We need you to try and remain calm, Grandpa."

"I heard the witch," Thomas snapped. His eyes were still on me. He had the same blue eyes as Savannah, as Sean, as Kristof had apparently had. They were bright, distinctive eyes. I wondered if he knew Savannah shared them? Of course he did; that's why he hated her so badly.

"Let's try again, shall we?"

I got a little further this time. Almost like I had stuck my head through a door and yelled, "Savan—" And then it completely overpowered me.

It wasn't just the buzzing that had accompanied Lynsay and Margaret. I could have handled that. For some reason, it sounded like Thomas got his very own loudspeaker and a powerpoint presentation. It was a whole lifetime's worth of people, shoved into my head. And not just pictures. The feelings that came with them. It was agonizing—people shouldn't be allowed to feel. It was worse than being hit with Savannah's memories. Those at least I could understand, put a name to. These were flashing through my mind too fast, in short, powerful bursts, like I was getting shot in the chest over and over.

And then it was over. Then it started to make sense.

I pushed myself away from whoever was holding me and muttered, "I'm going to hurl."

One second I was surrounded by salt, and then next there was a toilet. I aimed for it, grateful. And once I had stopped, and the tears had been wiped away I turned to Grant. "You really are the best."

"I try," he said. "I wish—" But the door opened and one extremely loud witch and another worried one walked through. Grant shrugged and called out, "We're at the back."

The stall door was pushed open, but I had sat up in time. I looked a little haggard, maybe, but not nearly as bad as I had only moments before. "I'm fine. Is he going to stop yet?"

Paige sighed as Lynsay fussed with my hair. Grant disappeared and returned with a water bottle as Paige explained, "I don't think he's doing it on purpose."

If he had given his word, he wouldn't go back on it. I knew that instinctively, because I didn't think he would dare risk giving Bryce control over his own life. That was the way to disaster.

"What did I tell you about the bulimia?"

I looked up to see Bryce was standing behind Paige. Just what I wanted, an audience. I stood up, pretending I didn't need the arm around my waist that Grant provided. "Blah, blah, not attractive. And for the hundredth time, I'm not bulimic."

"Hey, you told me to listen to my sister. You can't complain if you don't like what she says."

"I am not bulimic," I told my mother.

"Sure, sugar. Because you used to count those calories because you liked math."

"The heavier you are, the harder it is to throw yourself through the air and could we really not talk about this?" I glared at Bryce, this clearly being all his fault. "Is your grandfather going to behave?"

"He very much needs this to work," Bryce said. "That doesn't mean he can stop."

"What is he even doing?" Paige demanded.

"He's terrified," Lynsay answered. Bryce didn't like that, not at all, and even I wasn't enjoying it nearly as much as I should. "And furious. He doesn't like failing, but he's scared he...I don't know. I don't like this magic stuff."

She shivered, trying to look defiant. It had been bad, in his head; it might have made me feel sorry for him, but it also didn't help.

"Grant? How do I get them to stop?"

"You don't."

Not quite the answer I was looking for. He must have sensed my frustration, because he continued.

"Get him planning. Something that needs calm and rational thinking. Maybe grid searches, or budget plans for the rescue operation, or something. Numbers."

"That's—" Bryce stopped and glared at his bodyguard. "Since when did you actually become helpful?"

"Since I realized I am never going to be able to quit, sir."

"Quit, for all I care. I would still have Paulson."

The two men grinned at each other, though they both seemed a little sad, and Grant left my side, following Bryce out of the washroom. Paige took Grant's place and we followed my mother out of the room as well. Thomas Nast was talking to Sean, his face bright red. Bryce went over and interrupted, trying to get Thomas to focus on something that wasn't the desire to throttle me. Thomas protested but eventually calmed down. Paige cast a calming spell on me and I sat down in a chair to recover.

It was a long while later before Thomas walked over to me. "I'm ready."

The salt lines had been redrawn and my mother was adjusting the candles. The sight made me want to smile, though I tried not to. It wasn't going to last, I shouldn't get my hopes up, thinking maybe it would be different. I shouldn't want it to be different. But I did, and those treacherous hopes started rising all the same. I really was an idiot.

As so we did it one last time. There was still a lot more influx from Thomas than I would have liked, but I could feel him trying. There was a still a loud buzz of annoyance but it wasn't overwhelming like before. But at least with him consciously trying to restrain his emotions and memories, I could proceed with only a little bit of a headache.

"Savannah," I called into the darkness. "Savannah!"

And this time she answered.

"Took you freaking long enough. You didn't stop and screw my brother, again, did you?"

I sighed. "This isn't exactly a private conversation, Savannah, so could we save the inappropriate jokes for another time, please? Great."

I could feel her mentally shouldering me aside as she examined the people supporting me. She was too powerful for me to stop her. A loud chuckle rang out. "How the hell did you manage to get Thomas Nast to help out?"

"I'll tell you when you come back. You want to let me know what's happening to you so Paige can ride to the rescue?"

"Who else have you got there?" she continued, ignoring me. "Shit. You got Mommy Dearest helping? You got desperate pretty fast."

"Shut up," I told her firmly. "You're supposed to be untouchable. And you have a lot of powerful friends. The werewolves are sweeping L.A. for your scent, the vampires for your life-force, and I think there's even a shaman around somewhere."

"Awesome. I knew Paige would figure something out. It pisses me off having to be the damsel in distress but I've tried everything I know. They've got this place rigged up pretty tightly."

"They're Cabal employees. They know how to hold supernaturals hostage," I said with a shrug. "So how about you tell me everything we don't already know."

"Okay, so there's the guy. I think there's four of them, but there could be even more."

"Four? We thought there was only one."

"There is. There's just four of him. At least, I'm pretty sure it's the same guy. They have the same voice, same mannerisms—even their hands feel the same. Mostly."

For all his research on the time tear, Leech couldn't have figured out it allowed you to make copies of yourself? What was the point of all that guilt if he couldn't put it to good use?

"Creepy," I muttered. "So just the guy?"

"And a woman with a spell. She was the woman with Yi, when I got thrown into the other dimension. Women, I should say. She was all three of them, though it took me a while to recognize her. She's such a bitch. But annoying her helps pass the time."

I sent her a mental picture of Edmund and Mariah Eisenberg, the only times I had seen them. Edmund at the club, Mariah near the end of the party. It didn't take Savannah long to agree that these were our culprits. I tried to keep the mental gloating to a minimum, but I think Thomas couldn't help but sense it. Oh well.

She sent me a picture of her surroundings next and they made me depressed. It was a small room, smaller than the closet I called my bedroom. There was nothing in the metal box except for a bucket and a blanket and an unlit light bulb. And a state of the art door. A storage container? I stared longest at the door, in case its instillation proved important. "I haven't had anyone to talk to in days, and I'm bored out of my mind. There's nothing in this damn room. I'm going nuts in here, Gillian."

"Take me through what happened," I asked her. "So you're walking with Leech to your car..."

"Yeah, by the way? Dude is seriously hooked up—he fucking knew everyone at that place. So we're going to the car and the bitch calls out after him. He smiles and I think everything's all great and then she starts pulling him away. I'm ten feet away from the car—max—so I wave good bye. The second they turn around—and I'm talking like the second, the fucking millisecond—the guy comes out of nowhere and before I can say anything he hits me on the head."

"How long did they torture you for?"

"You know about that? How—did you feel that?" Savannah swore. "Sorry about that."

"I didn't feel anything, just saw it and woke up screaming bloody murder. After the first night it died down somewhat. Now I only get flashes and feelings. Just enough to know you're alive."

"Alive and kicking," she promised. "They just did it the first day or so, mostly to scare me. They give me water, but not much food. They're kind of afraid of me." I could feel the pride in her voice. "They think they won't be able to hold me if I'm up to full strength."

"You know why they want you?"

"Oh yeah. They explained it pretty early on. They have this spell that they want me to do. The sorcerer—ers, whatever—they're not powerful enough. They don't feed me unless I've proved I've remembered at least part of the spell."

"How fast did you learn it?"

"It actually took me most of the second day—it's pretty fucking hard. 'Course they still think I'm stuck on the third line." That was my girl. "It actually seemed sort of familiar."

She sent the spell through to me. It took me half a line before I started to freak. It was the same spell I had been thinking of. "That was in Yi's grimoire. Do you have any idea what it does?"

"No idea. I don't even recognize the language. What is it?"

"Healing spell." That I was managing to pull off these lies even with Thomas in my head said something not so great about me. "Have they shown you the kid?"

"Kid?"

That would be a no.

"Supposedly, they had a son that died. We think they used the time tear to bring him back and are going to use you to heal him."

"Never seen or heard a kid, though I can't hear much outside this room. But I'll tell you if they show him to me."

"Hopefully. I might not be able to use this spell again, though—which I totally came up with, by the way. It's a mish-mash of some healing/communication stuff I found."

"Neat. You teaching me once I get out."

"Totally." Thomas's noise began to grow so I got back on topic. "Anyway, this might be a onetime only thing since my mom's going home. But I'll try. Maybe I'll find another spell or something. Or maybe we should try a communication spell at the same time."

"Tomorrow good for you? Because I think my schedule is free."

"Sounds perfect. Did anyone sit you down and explain when you have to learn the spell by?"

"I have no idea. They do have my progress carefully plotted out and it's only when I don't meet it that they really start to get pissed, so there must be. But they haven't actually said. What with me being their prisoner and all, I don't think they're going to be all that forthcoming."

"Could you save the sarcasm for when I'm not trying to save your life? Geez. Hang on a sec, will you? I'm going to tell Paige all of this and then see what else she wants to know."

I pulled away from her slightly and tried to speak my next words out loud. I couldn't feel my mouth moving, but the information was uttered, in a strange mix of southern twang and Ivy League accent. So Thomas Nast had been reduced to talking for a witch. Neat.

"That's fucked up," I could hear Bryce mutter. Paige was a little more professional asking me some questions that might help her figure out where Savannah was located.

Not that Savannah had any helpful responses. Eventually, she just settled for ranting: "I have no fucking idea. I was unconscious when they brought me here and I've been stuck in this damn room the whole time. I haven't showered in days—I fucking reek. They brought me jeans and a shirt and that was about it. I only saw them the first day when they were using the cattle prods. Hell, there could be more of them for all I know."

"There's nothing you've noticed?"

"There's not even a fucking window. God, I hate this!"

Her anger overwhelmed everything and for a moment I was swept away in the sensation, lost in a sea of frustration, isolation and fear. She couldn't get herself out of there, and she didn't know how to let us help her. As I struggled to regain control, she ranted silently, a tantrum in her mind that only I could hear.

Eventually, it subsided. "Feel better now?"

Savannah gave a mental shrug. "Doesn't change the fact there's nothing I can do in here. Fuck. There's got to be something...I think I might be underground. It sort of smells dank and the air's kind of funny. I wish there was more I could give you...I've tried faking sickness, but they didn't even come close enough to take a look."

"There's always fake suicide," I suggested. "Like how they do in movies. Since they don't want you to die, they'll have to try and help."

"Do you see anything in this room that could be used as a weapon? The blanket doesn't even rip, it's made of yarn. How fucking annoying is that"

"You'll think of something," I tried to reassure her. "You always do."

"True." Since there was nothing else for her to do, she started bugging me. "You have been looking for me exclusively for the past couple of days, haven't you?"

"It has been not be fun with you gone. Paige is freaked, Sean is freaked and Mr Cortez almost got himself killed. Hey, did you notice them acting weird two days ago? Sometime around supper?"

"They're always weird. I don't think so. Why?"

"They were trying to do some sort of protection spell, we think. We stopped it but we still haven't figured out why."

"That's slightly unhelpful." Since she couldn't interfere with the investigation, she decided to interfere with my life. "How in the world did you get your mother there?"

"I do not want to know. Just remember she can hear you." That was stupid. It was just daring her to say...

"Good. I can finally tell her what a shitty job she did. Hey, Gillian's mom, you—"

"Savannah! This communication spell won't work without her, so you need to shut up. I get that you're bored but you can insult my mother another time, okay?"

"Gillian..." she whined, "I can't do anything. And you're starting to fade out."

Exhaustion had been creeping up on me the whole time. I was now scrapping dangerously low on power. I don't know why I hadn't collapsed just yet, but I wasn't planning on breaking the connection between us until I had to.

"Sorry. I guess we don't have much time left. I'm sorry."

"You should do the spell again. Thomas has to help. It's his wacky ass employees that are holding me hostage. Lucas should threaten to say they're acting on his orders. That should get him listening. The Cortezes are the most powerful after all."

"Yeah, you can threaten Thomas Nast. I'm going to not get myself killed," I told her. But I would pass along her message. "You stay alive until Paige can rescue you, okay?"

"Damn straight." Savannah went quiet for a moment. "Get me out of here soon, okay?"

"I'm doing everything I can," I reassured her. "And even a bunch of stuff I can't. I almost drowned for you."

"Well, I'm worth it."

"Obviously."

We said our goodbyes and she gave me a few messages to pass along. Then we cut the spell. The world came into sharp focus, colours that pounded into my head until I longed for the black once more. I saw my mother's bleached blonde hair, heard a voice asking if I was all right...and then I got my wish. The darkness overtook me.

When I woke up, I could hear incessant chattering, voices arguing loudly in the background. I cautiously opened one eye. I found that was lying on the conference table we had pushed to the side, Paulson seated at the chair nearby. He winked and said in a lowered voice, "I'm supposed to tell them when you wake up, but they're almost finished."

"What's going on?" I asked, barely speaking at all. He would hear me no matter what. He did.

"You ended the spell and passed out, which completely freaked out everyone. Paige even accused Thomas of sabotaging everything on purpose and he took that personally, of course. The two went back and forth for a little bit and he shut her up by announcing he was going to help."

"Help?" I said, probably louder than I should have considering I was pretending to be unconscious. But no one came over to us, so I was safe to gather myself in private. So Bryce really had gotten everything we had wanted. Good. Now I just had to stop worrying that this scheme was going to get me killed.

"That's what everyone else said. And then you're mother said something about it being his responsibility which offended him so Bryce sent her back to her hotel room. She asked to be informed if you were all right and wanted someone to ask you to call her once Savannah was found and you had time. In case anyone else forgets—" or decided that was something I didn't need to know "—there you go. Once that was taken care of, Thomas related most of your conversation, which I think everyone else wants you to confirm."

"Most of it?"

"He refused to pass along her personal messages, saying something about 'tasteless teenage vulgarities' and he left out anything about her emotional well-being, which is what Paige really wanted to know about. Then they reluctantly agreed to accept his help. They're just trying to work out the logistics of a co-Cabal task force."

"Which always works out well." Dana's attacker would still be out there if Paige had relied on the joint Cabal special forces.

"It doesn't help that every so often Thomas finds out another thing his grandsons have already done for Savannah and loses it. But I think they're almost done now."

"Good. Wake me up when it's over?"

"That's what I'm here for," Paulson said. "That and getting coffee."

"You do it very well," I promised and then closed my eyes.

Eventually the noise around me stilled. I could still hear all four of them in the room, but the yelling had stopped so I figured the technical aspects had been worked out. Nodding once to Paulson, he called out quietly, "Sorry to disturb you, Mrs Cortez, but I think she's waking up."

I heard brisk footsteps and then I felt Paige beside me. A hand ran through my hair, gently pressing it back. "Gillian, how are you feeling?" Paige asked.

"Good," I lied, pushing myself up from the table. I swayed a little, but Paige managed to catch me by the upper arms and stopped me from crashing head first into the table.

I pushed through the random bouts of dizziness and retold them my conversation with Savannah. Every so often Thomas's Nast smug face told me he already covered that part of the conversation, but no one said anything, not even when I got confused and started repeating something. I managed to correct myself—eventually—and got the whole thing out without blacking out again.

"And she said she loved you and Mr Cortez, but only if you rescue her and promise not to be mad when you do," I finished talking to Paige. She nodded, eyes tearing as I turned to deliver a less demanding declaration of love to Sean.

"I'm sorry I couldn't track her better. I do think she's still in California."

"We'll keep that in mind," Paige gave a small smile. She already had so much on her mind that I hated to add to it. "We should go."

"Paige, our men can bring Gillian upstairs. You can join your husband," Sean said quietly.

"He's right, Paige. I'll be fine."

"Lucas can hold down the fort for a little while longer," Paige assured them. "Come on, Gillian, let's go." She helped me to my feet, arm around my waist as we made our way out of the boardroom. She called back something technical to the Nasts and when someone agreed her business was finished. I could hear heavy footsteps behind us, Paulson on the job as usual.

"Where is he going?" Thomas demanded.

I had never seen Bryce back down before, but this time he called out an order and Paulson stopped. There were only Cortez guards around me as I made my way down the hall, leaning against Paige. But that was alright, because the Nasts didn't owe me anything.

Still, I was more amused than surprised when Grant appeared suddenly inside the elevator car, tonelessly informing there that he was with full Nast authorization and then smirking just a little when he added we just shouldn't mention this to Thomas. I nodded and then blacked out again.

I woke up briefly as Grant was carrying me inside. He was a lot stronger than I gave him credit for, since I had just sort of assumed he was the brains of all the operations and his partners were the muscle. But he carried me easily, like I was child. There was a little bit of shame at the thought, but it was squashed quickly by complete exhaustion. Then I was asleep again. The spell had drained me more than I thought.

When I woke up later, Paige was in a chair beside the bed. She was talking quietly to Bryce, who wasn't being subtle about his desire to see her gone. He could be very impolite when he wanted to be—and I didn't want him to just bully Paige out. I tried to sit up, but nothing much happened besides a slight movement of my hand. It was enough. The voices quieted.

"Gillian," Paige said quietly. "Are you awake?"

"I'm fine," I told her, eyes struggling to open.

She sighed and then whispered, "I'm going to join Lucas. If you need anything, anything at all, please call."

"She's not going to die," Bryce snapped. "She'll be fine."

"Be nice," I muttered.

"Never." I felt a hand brush my hip. "Go back to sleep. It'll be easier to convince her you're going to live if you didn't sound so horrible."

"Okay," I agreed, closing my eyes and letting sleep claim me once again.

No one was around when I woke up, but the clock read sometime around seven. There was a tray on the desk and opening it up I saw that someone had taken the liberty of ordering dinner for me. I started at the cheesecakes and fries and couldn't help smiling. Not that I was going to eat it, but it had been a good try.

The food was expensive looking, so I picked at a little, to show I appreciated the gesture. Once that was done, I hit the books. The Cabals had their resources and I had mine. Somewhere in the mess of ancient magic there was an explanation, one that would help us stop them. Somewhere. If I could only find it.

Time and time again I found myself studying Yi's grimoire, rereading the spell Savannah had been told to perform. Sometimes I found myself trying to learn it, other times I was judging the strength needed to perform it. I kept assuming it was a healing spell because the rest of them were, and it made more sense to kidnap a witch for a healing spell, but even that I didn't know for sure. I couldn't read it. Healing spells were so draining because you were playing God, and if it was easy everyone would be doing it. There had to be a price for taking on death and the more defiant you were the higher the price. There was no way to test just how much this would drain Savannah.

So I researched as the light faded from the sky, as my fries cooled. There had to be answers, if you looked hard enough. If you endured, I had discovered, things would change (not always for the better, but definitely change). All you had to do was keep at it.

I had started in on some ancient shaman text when there was a knock on the door. Grant moved quickly to answer it and I let myself stay sitting because whoever it was, this was more important. If Savannah could offer them a safe alternative to the spell, it might buy her more time until the Cortez-Nast force could find her. That would be my only contribution at this point, but at least it was something.

I didn't bother looking up, not even when someone sat down on the armrest, blocking out my light. "Move, Bryce."

"Did you bother to recuperate or did you go straight to the books?"

"What do you think?"

"Did you eat something at least?" He didn't even wait for an answer, just pulled the book from my hand and began looking at it. "These seem sort of..."

"Easy? They are. It's background reading for something I want to try adding to a more complex sorcerer spell. You want to help?"

"Believe it or not, I actually have a job." He gestured to the briefcase at his feet that I hadn't noticed. "I'll help you once I'm finished."

"You could just stop doing your job."

"I know," he admitted. "But on the off chance you're right and Grandpa's not just being a bastard for the hell of it, I just can't...."

He would be making excuses for the old man until the day he died, but it's not like I could change that.

"Is there a reason you're blocking my light?" I asked.

"The she-devil didn't have anything to say to me?"

"Would you care if she did?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?"

I found myself blushing, just a little bit. "She said that you still owe for that time she called off the investigation of Foras. And that you better pay to fix her house."

"And?"

"And nothing."

"Liar." I was bright red at this point and he chuckled. "Tell me. What else did she say? Was it that bad?"

"Your grandfather was listening. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? I think he almost had a heart attack, and then he tried to mentally strangle her. And you don't care. Fine." I sat up in the chair and tried to stare him down. It didn't work. "She said to tell you to buy some leather cuffs, because feeling it around my wrists always gets me hot."

For a moment, it was silent as he considered. Then: "Fuck. I think I might actually like her now. She really said that in front of Grandpa?"

"Screw you," I muttered, going back to my book.

He laughed and finally stood up. "Is it true?"

"Go to hell."

"Glad to hear it," he laughed to himself as he went to work.