Chapter 36

I watched as the people in the crowd bustled and pushed each other trying to get through the lecture hall doors. Even if I didn't have two hundred pounds of pure disapproval at my shoulder, I never would have joined in the fuss—the joys of being small. Normally, I would have found someone to talk to until the worst of the crowd was gone. It wasn't against the rules (despite the hundred or so that existed) for me to talk to Grant, but he had been in a quiet mood all day and I didn't want to push him, so we just stood there.

The auditorium was almost empty when I heard someone call my name. Grant tensed instinctively, but I shook my head slightly to let him know it was safe. The girl coming up to me wasn't a threat, though her presence was far welcome.

"Hey, Debbie," I said, plastering a smile on my face. I may have detested this world at the moment, but once this was all over, I had to come back. Paige insisted school came first and while Bryce had offered to buy off my professors I actually did want to learn the material. And Paige had overheard him and been so appalled that I didn't have the heart to say yes.

Which meant playing nice. Damn.

"It feels like I haven't seen you in ages," Debbie said, throwing her arms around me. I caught Grant's eye and glared when he rolled his eyes. If he didn't like college girls, he should have stuck Paulson on guard-Gillian-duty. Paulson would have enjoyed meeting all my friends.

"I've been kind of keeping a low profile ever since..." I let my voice trail off. But referencing Tia's disappearance had the desired effect. Debbie looked immediately ashamed.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I heard they couldn't reach you in time for the memorial."

Everyone knew I had gone out with Tia that night; they also knew I had taken off before the night was out, leaving her behind. It was the truth, even though no one knew why I had fallen off the grid for the past week. The shock I faked when I heard she died had apparently been convincing enough that they thought I had just disappeared into Gillian world, which they were all a little too scared to ask about. I got lucky; most people didn't blame me. They just thought taking off was what I did—which could be why they weren't surprised when I announced they might not see me around because I was going to be living in a hotel with some guy I had just met.

"Yeah, it sucked. Did you go? How was it?"

Debbie prattled on as we exited the auditorium. The only reason I was here (besides Paige, of course) was so I could hunt down all the language professors during my break. Someone had to know what language Yi's spell was written in.

Someone had sort of known. How helpful she had been was debatable, but at least I had a direction to go in.

"So who's your friend?" Debbie asked after awhile. Grant was still standing at my elbow, not saying a word, waiting comfortably for me to come up with whatever lie I wanted.

On some level, I understood that Bryce's insistence that I take Grant with me everywhere was just his (completely domineering control freak) way of making sure I was safe. And Grant's acceptance of these new orders meant that keeping me alive was now an essential part of his grand plan, which was a very flattering thought. But that didn't erase the fact it was difficult to explain his presence, especially since he had nixed my idea of telling everyone he was my boyfriend who had become uber-protective since Tia had gone missing. He said it wasn't appropriate, since he was old enough to be my father (not true, and not important, anyway, but he been too uncomfortable, so I dropped it).

"New foreign exchange student that I offered to show around," I explained. "He only speaks German."

Debbie's eyes went a little wide at the audacious lie, but she didn't dare challenge it, even if the 5'10'' dark-skinned Grant did not look like your average Aryan. Nor did he speak German; when I had tried to teach him, he had shown no interest. Still, since most people couldn't speak German and my German courses had been last term, it was a safe enough lie. Not one that would hold up under any sort of scrutiny, but most people wouldn't look that closely.

"Cool. So he can't understand anything?"

"He's learning," I said, patting his arm. Grant didn't display any emotion as I smiled at him sweetly. "You want to get coffee, catch up?"

"Sure."

I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but followed her. She didn't mind Grant tagging along, which I was grateful for, because I wasn't sure I could have come up with a reasonable excuse if she had asked. He wouldn't have left—he barely let me go to the washroom by myself. I tried not to look at my watch; I was not counting down the minutes until I could get my next update on the investigation.

"You okay?" I asked Grant as he almost fidgeted beside me as we stood in the elevator.

"Of course, Miss MacArthur."

Considering he worked for a bunch of corporate crooks, Grant was almost a bad of a liar as Bryce. "Sorry about Debbie, but she is my friend. I should have been quicker; I know being away from Bryce for this long gives you separation anxiety."

"That's not funny," Grant said, smiling.

But it was true. Grant fussed every moment he didn't have the Cabal brat in his sight. That Bryce had convinced Grant to agree to follow me instead of him was nothing short of a miracle. When we were alone (when he could be not-German), Grant was calling Paulson constantly to check up on the two of them. Considering Bryce was supposed to be at Nast Headquarters most of the day, nothing too terrible could have happened to him.

It still wasn't enough to get Grant to relax.

Paulson was guarding the door at the end of the hallway, but he was the only guard on the floor we all shared. That meant Sean and the Cortezes were still out, busy chasing leads. Which meant they still hadn't found her.

"He's busy working?" I asked Paulson, who nodded. I guess Bryce didn't want to stay in his gorgeous office. "Joy. Have you eaten anything?"

"Nope. Neither has the boss."

"You feel like chicken tonight? Steak?"

"Chicken and carrots maybe," Paulson suggested. Neither of us looked at Grant, who would think it beneath him to make his own desires known. After he had glared the first time I had asked, I had learned my lesson.

"Sounds good," I agreed. "It'll be a while. Tell me—"

"When the Cortezes are back. Got it."

"Thanks." Grant had already opened the door so all I had to do was push it open. I was a little surprised Bryce was home before me, but I didn't really see him staying at the office longer than he had to.

"You're late," he said without looking up from his computer. His suit was in a heap on the floor; how fast had he changed into his jeans? Too bad I had missed the show.

I picked up the room service menu, and meandered over to his desk, leaning up against the side. There was a glass of something beside him; a swallow told me it was Jack Daniels.

"Make sure to cover your breath up after."

The joys of being fake pregnant. "I know. I met up with a friend on campus today. We had to bond. Do you want carrots or peas tonight?"

"That better not be all you're ordering." I sat down on his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, taking another sip in the process. Bryce kissed me and then said, "Grant hates peas. And you finished my drink."

"I'll get you another one."

As I walked over to the bar along the wall, he called, "Stay away from the scotch. I'm saving that for after."

After what? I didn't ask; I didn't want to know. "So what's the news today?"

"They found Penelope Yi's body. On our property, but it's not like we needed an excuse to be even angrier at them."

Yi, aside from being a black witch, had also been a well-respected doctor. The Eisenbergs had apparently met her when their son was still alive. After he had passed, they must have run into her again, or maybe they had hunted her down. She mentioned she might have been able to help if only...if only and the grieving parents—who had never accepted no before in their lives—had latched onto that. Did they tell Yi why they wanted the spell before she handed it over? Did it matter? They killed her when she became a liability. Because that's what Cabals did.

But we were counting on the fact that being a liability to them would make her an asset to us.

"Seriously?" I looked up from the bottle I was holding. "That's great. Are—?"

"Hollis and the Terrible Twins are on it as we speak. Jaime Vegas is helping out, too. Someone's bound to be able to talk to her."

The Terrible Twins was Bryce's oh-so affectionate nickname for the two female necros the worked directly under Hollis, Charlene Baker and Sydney Kendrick. They were apparently as dull as they looked, but powerful. It was a long shot that Yi would know where the Eisenbergs were hiding out, and an even longer shot that the Eisenbergs hadn't cursed the hell out Yi, but these were some of the best necromancers around. I had to hope.

"Good."

"Did you find out about that spell?"

He took the glass I handed him and downed it quickly as I answered, "Some Greek prof told me it might be Coptic."

"Cool."

"Not really. She said there's like only a couple hundred people worldwide who speak it. Plus, if the spell is in Coptic...that could mean it's really old. Like, Egyptian mummy old."

"What's wrong with something older?"

"Nothing, if you're talking about booze and guys. But with spells...whether the Eisenbergs are out for vengeance or to heal their son, the old ways are not going to be the fun ways. There's got to be a reason I've never seen a spell in this language before."

"You might be giving yourself too much credit." For some reason he thought that was the time to hand me his empty glass and demand another refill.

"It's not even six yet, Bryce. Pace yourself. I'm ordering dinner. Try not to pass out beforehand."

"I just meant that no matter how good you are with languages there's only so many you can know before your head explodes," he said, making his way over to the bar himself. "Wait until I've told you your mother has refused to leave the hotel before you bite my head off."

"She's still here?"

"We did promise her she could stay in a nice hotel in L.A. She doesn't want to leave this one; it's more hassle than it's worth to make her. So just stay off her floor."

Great—I could run into my mother in the lobby. "Hopefully, she'll pass out in her room so I won't have to see her."

"That's the spirit." He actually stopped pouring for half a second. "She wasn't that bad, you know."

"I've made enough excuses for her. You don't have to start."

"I wasn't making excuses. She wasn't exactly easy to buy off." His voice got softer, "But she did make sure to tell me to stay the hell away from you and considering how terrified she was of me, it was pretty impressive. That's all. I'll still have her killed anytime you want."

I knew I should have been freaked out at his casual offer, but I chose to find it sweet, instead. Because I was insane, but still.

"Thanks. I'm never going to take you up on that, but thank you. It'll be something to hold onto when she can't stop insulting me."

"I don't know why you put up with that."

"Well, she sucks—like really, really sucks at being a mom—but...she's still my mom, you know?"

"No. I wouldn't lift a finger if I thought it would help Belinda."

"Not even a pinkie?"

He laughed. "My very first memory of her was when I was ten. I was with my dad at some stupid stuffy society thing and she dropped in unexpectedly. She smelled like some stupid fruity drink; I still remember that. Anyway, she turned to me and said, 'Don't you look sweet today, Bruce.'"

The glass he brought to his lips was empty, so he just set it down on the bar as I said: "At least she was close."

"That's what I said. Dad was pissed though. Like I didn't already know she didn't give a shit about me."

"I'm surprised you haven't had her killed."

"Dad wouldn't let Grandpa," he said frankly. "Thought it would set a bad example for us, or something. Sean wouldn't do it, anyway. He's above that. And I just don't care enough about the bitch to order a hit on her."

Whatever his beliefs on forgiveness, I don't think Bryce had ever managed to extend them towards the woman who had given birth to him. His voice was too calm, too forced. Since talking about women in our lives who sucked beyond belief had left us both a little tense, so I did the only sane thing I could.

"You too drunk to get it up?"

"With a come on like that, how can I resist you?" Then he rolled his eyes and finally left the bar, informing me, "I can hold my liquor."

Whatever he was, Bryce wasn't liar.

After dinner, I started studying since I actually had work to do now that I was going to class. Bryce wasn't even pretending to feel guilty about how he was avoiding his work. He just lay on the bed and began playing with my feet, since they were on his stomach. If I lay perpendicular on the bed, the light was a lot better for reading. And I occasionally got a foot massage.

"Your toes are ridiculously small," Bryce complained. I giggled as he stroked along the bottom of my foot and then tried not to kick out when he tickled a particularly sensitive nerve.

"I'm taking that as a compliment." The silence descended over us yet again, but now my mind not on Latin texts. "Do you think I'm wasting my time with the spell?"

"What's the one rule we have, Gillian?"

"Don't go anywhere without a bodyguard? Always do as Bryce says? Always eat everything? Which one are you talking about now, Bryce?"

He threw the pillow in my face as I laughed. "I know, I know. Leave you out of the magic. You didn't use to mind."

"That was before I had to trade my first born child for the last spell you worked on."

"Fictional first born child."

"That's not what Grandpa thinks," he snapped, but he recovered quickly enough, shifting so he was lying beside me. It wasn't fair. I was trying to study and he kept breathing on my neck, kissing me just under my ear, running a hand under the sheet that was covering me, down my back, over the curve of—

"Stop it," I squeaked, rolling away from him. Sort of. I may have suddenly ended up pressed against his chest, but that was not my fault. "I need to do this before I can look at the spell."

"You are obsessed."

"I guess that answers the questions about if you think I'm wasting my time or not."

"What would you be doing instead?"

"So, I'm useless except for the useless translating I'm doing. Thanks, Bryce."

"Shut up, Gillian." He punctuated his words by trapping me under him. "I'm capable of being a jerk without you twisting my words around. I was trying to say that you're doing what you're good at. I don't get your obsession with dissecting magic, but you're too determined not to be somewhat talented at it. Even if I wish you weren't."

Because what had talking to Savannah gotten me, besides peace of mind? And it had cost him so much more than that.

"Stop distracting me so I can finish this."

He sighed and went back to playing with my feet. I couldn't believe it. If I had as much to drink as he had had during dinner, they probably would have had to pump my stomach. Bryce developed a foot fetish. And got mellow, which was weirder.

"Figure out who the world's expert in Coptic is," he said eventually. "And then tell Grant. He'll figure out how to get you in touch with them. He's good at getting through red tape."

"Thanks."

"Before you do that, though, could you...do me a favor?"

"As long as it doesn't involve my fictional second-born child."

"Funny, Gillian. Could you take Leech to breakfast tomorrow? Now that he's found out you can clone yourself or whatever by going through the time tear he feels even worse than he has lately—and he's had a shitty time the past few months."

"As long as he pays."

"That's my fake baby mama."

I couldn't help laughing.

"Gillian?"

"Is this you not distracting me? Because you suck at it, Bryce."

"What did your mom mean?"

"About what?" I tried not to sound defensive, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded. Discussing her was one thing, but discussing the things she couldn't help saying to me was quite another.

"About my grandfather. When she said he was scared. What...what did she see? I didn't think anything scared him but the thought of losing the company."

Not even half a bottle of whisky could hide the bitterness, so I tried to answer him as best as I could.

"He wasn't scared, Bryce. Not like...I'm scared of him. He was petrified. It was like being buried alive in his head."

"What did you see?"

"You're already getting all you can get out of him. I can't afford to try blackmailing him twice. Even Grant couldn't keep me safe then."

"I'm not asking you so I can blackmail him. I just want to know what scares him."

"So you can try pushing him some more?"

"So I can remind myself he's a human being and not—" Blue eyes turned away from me. "Please tell me what you saw."

"I don't know. I saw eighty years of memories in twenty seconds. Everything was sort of on super fast forward." That wasn't helping him, so I forced myself to go back, to look at the pain closer than I ever wanted to. "I think you were right, he did sleep with your secretary. She had gorgeous hair back then. Dark chestnut."

There had been blood, so much blood, and so much pain and so all I could think about was her hair, pretty dark haired girl with sad eyes and blood pooling around her, choking her, choking me so all I could think about was the blood that defined everything.

"Gillian?" When Bryce started showing that he was worried, I knew I was in trouble. Or that he was further gone than I thought. I forced myself to smile.

"I don't know what I saw Bryce. It was a mess. But whatever I felt made me feel sorry for Thomas Nast and I really, really hate that man. Can't that be enough?"

"I don't know. Did what you feel justify his decision to murder his own family to make succession just a little bit easier?"

"He's Thomas Nast. He doesn't give a shit about anyone. Why did you ever think you were special?"

Bryce finally looked at me, though he didn't seem upset with me even though I wanted to slap myself for being such a bitch. Thomas was his grandfather and it was obvious he was taking this badly. But Bryce just looked tired, not hurt.

"Maybe I should have had the scotch tonight."

Since I couldn't think of anything to say to make it better, I offered help of another kind. "If you wanted, I could call up this friend of mine. He can get you anything you need, if you give him fifteen minutes."

"You only do drugs when you're bored, idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"Drugs when you're bored so they aren't ever anything but something you do for fun and booze when you're pissed, so even if you do order someone killed Grant won't listen." Rules you made for yourself because rules were all you had. "Even Grant probably couldn't kill Grandpa, but that's besides the point."

"Don't even pretend. You wouldn't hurt a hair on your grandfather's head."

"Why, though? Why should I care about him when he has no problem ordering me to—whatever. I'm going to take a shower. I have work to do."

Bryce got out of bed, then, and I turned back to my books and tried to focus on Savannah. I focused on the person I could actually help.

When Grant opened the door to reveal Leech the next morning, I wanted to gape. He looked horrible—worse than Bryce had looked when he had woken up with a killer hangover next to a witch with no sympathy. Leech didn't just look like he hadn't slept in days. More like he had been sitting alone for months slowly going out of his mind. His once clean-shaven face now sported a beard and his hair was uncombed. I bet hotel security was watching him carefully, what with the wild eyes and clothes that hadn't been washed in what I thought were weeks. I felt worse than guilty for blaming him the past couple of days. Evidently he didn't need the extra guilt.

"You look terrible," I said as I hugged him. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, but it was obvious he was lying. He was Bryce's friend, but I had always thought of him as the younger of the two. Now I could see it wasn't the case. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn he was closer to Sean's age.

"Shouldn't Bryce be at work by now?"

"He is. He wanted to wait, but duty calls." I didn't find the joke particularly funny and neither did Leech, if his wince was any indication. "You hungry? Because the food downstairs looks divine."

"Sure." He glanced back at Grant, than back at me. "So it's true?"

"What?"

With very upraised eyebrows, he gestured to my stomach. "Bryce almost bit my head off when I asked, but..."

"Hollis knows?" Hollis always seemed to be Leech's source for all the useless information he had that didn't help us at all.

"Not everyone on the board wanted to help Savannah even after Thomas ordered them to. Thomas told a few of them—just the higher ups, though. They won't tell anyone else. They...Bryce was smart to leave you with Grant. Stay close, okay?"

"Sure." What in the world had I done? Thomas better find Savannah because I was pretty sure he was going to kill me when this was all over and I wanted something to show for my stupidity.

"Hey," Leech said quietly. "You okay? Because if they're forcing you to do this..."

"Can we just go eat breakfast? The cravings haven't hit yet but I'm starving."

He agreed, his eyes filled with pity (and there was nothing I could do about that because the more people who knew the harder Grant was going to have to work to keep me safe), and we headed downstairs. We weren't the only ones of the gigantic task force that had the same idea. I saw a few werewolves and Adam sitting around a table as we entered.

I pointed out the table I wanted and waited for Grant to give his brief nod of approval—I didn't mind asking so much as I hated feeling like I was pulling rank. But that's just the way the world was working right now, so I tried to ignore the feeling. Grant didn't mind; why should I? Order would be restored, eventually.

Leech led the way to our safe location in the corner, which is why I almost broke my face on his back when he stopped abruptly in the middle of the room.

Grant placed a hand on my back as I ricocheted off the big man. "Ow," I muttered, but quietly, so as not to attract attention. "Leech?"

Ignoring me entirely, Leech abruptly turned and headed towards a table on the other side of the restaurant, where the werewolf Alpha sat with his girlfriend. Was he allowed to talk to Jaime Vegas? When I glanced at Grant, he gave me a look I was growing quite accustomed to—whatever you like, miss, just do it slowly so I can make sure it's safe.

So I meandered over to the coffee, staying close enough so I could overhear everything and interfere if it looked like Leech's state of mind was about to piss off our allies.

Not that Jaime Vegas seemed offended at being approached by an enormous stranger, just a little weary. It was her boyfriend, with his hard eyes, that made me wish I could drag Leech away. But the big man was already telling her he was a huge fan of hers and she was nodding vacantly.

Was he seriously just being a fanboy?

No, he wasn't. With more subtly than I had seen from the entire Nast family combined, he easily segued into talking about the investigation, concluding with a sincere apology for anything Hollis may have said the other night. She had to understand it was the stress of the situation, knowing the Eisenbergs had buried the body on Nast property that was putting him on edge. But he wanted her to know that he was sincerely sorry for what he had said and if there was anything she ever needed, to please feel free to ask.

"Oh," she said. She sat up a little straighter. "I didn't realize you were...one of us."

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Suddenly, Leech was producing a business card. "If you ever feel he's overstepped his boundaries, or simply don't want to deal with him, please call me. The whole point of him having a personal assistant is so I can help him work on those personal skills. You'd be doing me a favor if you called.

She took it, looking grateful. Apparently, Bryce wasn't the only one who hated Hollis—it must have been the moustache.

"If you could arrange for me never to talk to him again..."

"I'll do my best, Miss Vegas. He also asked me to clarify some of the problems you encountered last night."

"He's interested in that?"

"This morning he is. Once again, Miss Vegas, you have to excuse him. Necromantic curses remind him of some unpleasant circumstances. Besides, if it wasn't a sorcerer curse, he can't report that he can get around it. I hope you can understand why that would be unpleasant for him."

Her eyes narrowed, by she seemed to like whatever she saw, because she launched into this speech that I didn't understand at all. The only thing I understood was that Erinyes was blocking her, which meant Mariah (not her husband) had cursed Yi and that meant there was nothing anyone could do to talk to her spirit.

And when she was finished, Leech blushed very prettily and asked her for an autograph.

"We are trying to eat breakfast," Jeremy said, politely, but with finality. But Jaime Vegas was still fiddling with Leech's fake business card. I think it was the thought of not having to deal with Hollis that tipped her hand.

"Who should I make it out to?" she asked.

When he pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper, he told her to make it out to Claire.

When I demanded to know what that was about, all he would say was that Hollis needed more information and Claire loved watching Jaime Vegas when she was on television. He ate five times as much as me at breakfast, so I guess he was feeling better.