Chapter 40

Leech must have called up to the room exactly at eight. My hair had been perfectly dry for a while and I was listening to Paige recite everything she had done that day when Bryce knocked on the door of the Cortez room at exactly 8:01.

"He's here," Bryce said sticking his head through the door. "Would you like to come too, Mrs Cortez? It's going to be boring as hell, but when he goes nuts it might be a good idea to have as many witches around as possible. Maybe having two of you around will mean you guys can actually be useful for a change."

"Just because you're worried, doesn't mean you get to be a racist ass," I snapped as I stood up, though there was no bite in my voice. Not to make excuses for him, but he was worried about Leech and probably unhappy that he felt like he had to invite Paige along. Adopting a more congenial tone, I addressed Paige, "It would be a good break. You look like you need one."

Paige hesitated, but finally relented, knowing full well that nothing positive was happening in this room. Sure, she couldn't actively do anything, but this way she could put whatever information Leech gathered to use right away.

We met up with Leech and Hollis in the lobby. Bryce only spared a single sneering look for the hated necromancer and then settled on ignoring the man. We took a black SUV that belonged to Hollis, though it was Leech who drove. I sat between Bryce and Paige in the backseat as the bodyguards followed in the cars behind us. When we hit the highway Bryce apologized, but insisted that Paige had to travel to the cemetery blindfolded. She agreed without protest.

"And the other?" Hollis said pointedly, turning around to look at me.

"I—"

"It doesn't matter," Bryce said firmly. "And mind your own fucking business, Hollis."

Of course Bryce could turn a sweet, defiant gesture into some sort of power play. What other company could get away with treating its employees like that? Bryce noticed my glare but just shrugged and ignored me. The older man didn't give up.

"Company policy clearly states—"

"If you're here in your official capacity you can get out of the car right now." Hollis blinked and turned away. "It's my call. Now could you please turn on the radio?"

We drove the rest of the way—and it was a long way—with only the accompanying noise of Top 40 hits. But Leech knew his way easily. Though the road twisted and turned—I was purposely paying as little attention as possible—he never looked to the others for direction. Occasionally Hollis would try to guide him to a different route, but Bryce would say something offensive and the older man would shut up. One of these days I was going to ask if there was a reason for Bryce's passive-aggressive hatred or if he just did it because he could.

We got to a nondescript clearing eventually. The Eisenberg's had given one final insults to the Nasts. All those they had killed had been buried on Nast property (including Tia, but they weren't planning on giving her body back, ever, so I tried not to think about it). Leech was going to have the home town advantage tonight. It sounded like he was going to need all the help he could get.

There was a full moon out, gleaming brightly in the night sky like the flame of a lighthouse, guiding us through the death. I was grateful. Not only did it make stepping around the graves much easier and less painful, it made me feel safer. Like a child, I figured being able to see just a little meant I was safe. It may have been juvenile but it was the only way I managed to keep going.

The Nast graveyard was vast, like something out of a way over-budget CGI movie whose computer geeks were just showing off. It stretched farther than seemed possible, losing itself in some pixilated horizon. I followed Leech as he led us further and further through the land. Eventually he turned the lead over to Hollis, who had come up to Yi's grave two nights before. I didn't ask how they had found Yi's body among the unmarked graves that littered the field and that really only resembled small roughly dug patches of earth—I didn't want to know.

Hollis and Leech waved us away when they reached their destination, not needing spellcasters to interfere. Bryce leaned up against a nearby tree and Paige reluctantly sat down beside him. I settled in between his legs, wishing I had brought a thicker sweater. He was tense behind me, his finger tapping impatiently on my knee. I leaned my head back and relaxed. Necromantic rituals usually took a while.

"I hate this," Bryce muttered into my hair. I found his hand in the dark and squeezed.

From beside us, Paige asked, "How long do you think it'll take?"

"They say Fidelia could do it in ninety minutes flat. He'll be lucky if he does it in three hours. I can't believe I'm letting him—" I could feel him turn to look at Paige. "You do realize you have to pretend you never found out necros could do this. Or Grandpa might actually kill me."

So that's why he had asked her to come.

"Lucas and I don't have the most open relationship with the rest of his family. You're secret is safe."

"You can't even tell Lucas," Bryce said. He actually sounded apologetic.

"Oh."

Once upon a time, it would have been a problem. Now Paige just wrapped her arms tighter around her body and tried to pretend it was nothing. She wouldn't tell—she wasn't sure anymore that Lucas would be able to stay away from the Cabal forever. Paige was a little naïve that way. Lucas's path had always been fixed; he just hadn't accepted it yet.

I turned my head to glance at Bryce, who was glaring at the earth like it had personally offended him. He had to stop feeling so personally responsible for his friend or it would kill him.

"You're doing the right thing," I tried to reassure him quietly.

His breath was warm against my neck. "Yeah? It feels like shit. No wonder I usually avoid it."

We sat in the dark for a long while, Bryce finally using the flashlight to catch a glimpse of Leech. He was sitting cross-legged in front of the fresh mound of dirt, covered in sweat despite the cold, a drop clinging to the tip of his nose. Bryce's arms tightened around me, restraining himself from going over and just calling the whole damn thing off. The light caught Hollis as well, standing well away, watching Leech carefully. When he saw the light, he gestured for Bryce to stop it and I was surprised to see Bryce took his advice.

Fifteen minutes past, then thirty, forty-five...normal for a necromancer, especially since Leech was trying something that might not even be possible. An hour passed. Bryce was still rigid behind me and I was starting to get a little worried that he might just break something if he didn't move soon. He and Paige were making overly polite conversation that made me want to laugh. Neither one cared about the California real estate market, but at least they were trying to get along.

"Stop shivering," he ordered eventually, wrapping his arms even tighter around me. Usually it would have helped, but currently it was like being held by a cardboard box. He was too tense. This was not working.

At seventy-five minutes, I stood up and brushed the dirt off of me. I was freezing, he was stressed and we were both bored out of our minds. I glanced down at him. "I'm going to wait in the car."

"We'll get you when he's finished."

"Come with me," I begged. "You're just making yourself sick watching him and you're probably not making it any easier on him. Besides, I don't think I can find my way back to the car."

"I can't leave."

"You don't need to watch." Just because he felt like he should, didn't mean that was actually the case. We glared at each other in the half-light, until he finally stood up with a sigh. "Would you like to come too, Paige?"

"I'm all right here," she said. She probably suspected why I wanted to get him out of there. I hoped she didn't, but at least she wasn't in the way, so I really didn't care.

"I hate you for this," he muttered as he took me by the arm and started leading me back to the car. I think he purposely made as much noise as possible, stomping and grumbling the whole way back. But the whole time, he didn't turn around. It was better that way.

The car was also cold, but at least it sheltered us from the wind. We settled into the back seat, Bryce leaning against the window as I curled on top of him, snuggled into the warmth he offered. One large hand settled on my arm, pulling me closer.

"I think I'm the one going nuts," he admitted finally.

"You need a distraction," I said, sitting up a little bit. I found his lips, kissing him slowly, giving him room to pull away if he wanted. When I drew back, the hand on my arm slipped off and gently brushed the side of my breast.

"You offering to try?"

"Maybe."

I shifted so I was sitting on his lap properly, though my legs were tucked awkwardly around him. We began kissing and though he was hesitating, he wasn't completely opposed to my sort of distraction.

But I had a better idea.

"Move over," I ordered and he dutifully shifted along the seat of the car, dragging me along with him. When he was in the middle of the seat, I stopped him. Despite what was happening outside the car, I grinned. I had been looking for an excuse to do this for a while.

I slipped off his legs, until I was kneeling between them. The space between the two front seats was small, but I was a small person, so though it was a little cramped, it was workable.

"What are you doing, Gillian?"

Maybe it was a little mean to demand he relinquish what little control he had at the moment, but at the same time, I wanted to do something that would guarantee he was keeping his mind on the here and now. And if he could just accept that there were some things that required him to yield, it would be better for him in the long-run.

That I had changed my mind shouldn't have surprised him. I changed my mind all the time—it was one of the benefits of never knowing what was going on in my head in the first place.

So I smiled reassuringly, maybe even a little teasingly, as I reached for his belt.

"What do you think?"

Two hours and thirteen minutes after we arrived, there was a knock on the car door. I was half asleep beside Bryce, but I woke up when he quickly got out. Paige was waiting patiently. "He says they're almost done."

"Hollis better be fucking right," he muttered and began walking off.

I followed a little more slowly, drowsiness still clinging to me. Paige helped me out of the car and we followed after Bryce traveling at a more leisurely pace. Almost done didn't mean done by a long shot. Even after we arrived by the grave where Bryce was talking—arguing—with Hollis, Leech wasn't in any position to talk to us.

He looked horrible—all pulled skin, sweat and grime. His eyes held none of the cheer that I had previously associated him with. They were flat and lost, staring at fields of death, unable to look away. His muscles were locked and even though the wind was still fairly strong, he didn't move.

Fifteen minutes later, only his mouth shifted. But it was something. Scratched vocal chords slowly began to work.

"I've gotten through. She's flickering in and out, but she's here."

Bryce grinned. "I can't believe you fucking did it."

Leech nodded. I was afraid the movement might cause something to snap. He began to chant out loud for the first time, in front of the strange bones and earth that he had previously laid out. He was muttering things, talking to Yi, not bothering to talk to the rest of us because time was limited and then—

The scream made me jump. We all froze for a moment, unsure what was going on and then Hollis dove for the younger necromancer, waving Bryce back when he moved to help. Hollis was chanting something as Leech fell over, screaming in agony.

And when the screaming stopped, it just got worse.

Hollis frantically waved a hand in front of unseeing eyes and then felt quickly for a pulse. Hollis let out a sigh of relief, when he touched the big man's wrist and then began trying to wake him up. When nothing seemed to be working, Paige offered a spell that should help. Hollis nodded but didn't move aside to let her cast. He wasn't leaving Leech. Bryce was just standing off to the side, staring in horror. When Paige's spell failed, Bryce asked:

"Did this happen to Fidelia?"

"Sometimes," Hollis said finally, his voice strangely muffled. "Erinyes punishes those who have the power to define her. But Delia always came out of it. Eventually. There's nothing to do but wait."

"We should get him back to the car then. It's getting late," Bryce said.

Hollis nodded and the two men stood on either side of Leech. Neither were small, but both were dwarfed by Leech. Unconscious as he was, it was like carrying three hundred pounds on their backs. Grant and the other two bodyguards (one for Paige, one for Hollis) appeared to help but even then it was slow going back to the car.

Hollis climbed into the back, Leech's upper body in his lap. Bryce pulled out the car keys.

"I'll go with Grant," I volunteered. "Is it that bad?"

"Hollis will know what to do," Bryce told me. "It'll work out."

How did he do that? For a second I found myself believing him, even though all the facts screamed the contrary. That Cabal confidence was something else. And then his face wavered just before he slammed the car door. Even if he always got his way didn't mean that it would work forever.

Since the bodyguards had to stay with their charges, we ended up following the other car to one of the Nast hospitals.

When Grant heard where we were going, his lips pursed so tightly they almost disappeared.

"What's wrong?" I asked. The two of us were in the back. The bodyguard Benecio Cortez had foisted on his daughter-in-law was driving.

"Mr Nast won't be pleased. Mrs Leech died there. The staff is the best when it comes to necromantic problems, but the associations are unpleasant."

Bryce was going to be miserable to be around later tonight.

"Did you know her?"

"Not personally. By the time I arrived, she had quit working with the boys and was focusing on her own son and the odd jobs her husband found for her. She was my superior, by then."

"She really was their nanny, then?"

"Only Sean's. That's how she met her husband." It was an old piece of scandalous gossip, I assumed—Grant looked miserable repeating it. Considering Bryce said Leech's dad had been on the make, he had taken a big risk in marrying the help. "When Belinda left I heard she stepped in unofficially as a favor until Kristof found someone suitable—and each time he had to find another suitable replacement—but she was never officially in charge of both boys."

Whatever her official position, she had been around enough that Bryce had cared about what happened to her when she went mad. He was too scared about it happening to Leech—he knew how much it could hurt, watching as they slipped away while you stood by helplessly.

Or ran away to California.

A whole fleet of people came out of the small, nondescript building that served as a supernatural hospital to take Leech out of the other car. Hollis was following quickly after Leech when Bryce grabbed him by the arm. Eventually, Bryce seemed to realize it was none of his business and so he left Hollis and came back into the car, where Grant had just sent me.

Paige was on the phone with Lucas who—shockingly—said that nothing new had been discovered. Of course not. No one was that good. The Eisenbergs had to have made a mistake somewhere. It was the law of human existence, for crying out loud.

The ride back to the hotel was silent. Bryce was just spoiling for a fight and the rest of us didn't want to provide him with one.

We walked Paige back to her room first where she offered a soft, "I hope your friend's all right."

"It's his own fucking fault," Bryce sneered. He was going to have to do better than that to convince everyone he didn't care. Even Paige, who wasn't really inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, realized he didn't mean it at all.

"If Lucas's newest lead pans out..."

"Yeah," he nodded absently and then headed down the hall without a goodbye. I stepped inside the Cortezes's room for a minute so Lucas could give an update on what he had been doing that night. He had nothing positive to report, either.

Once we had talked in circles for a little bit, I gave Paige a quick goodnight, and apologized for not having anything more to show for the night. She just gave me an understanding look and tried to say it would be better tomorrow. But the words caught in her throat and she just muttered goodnight.

I was too wired to sleep and assumed Bryce would share that problem, but when I got back to the room I didn't even seen him in there. For a second I thought that he had just taken off, but since Paulson and Grant were outside the door I couldn't see how he had managed to disappear. It took me a moment, but eventually I noticed that the curtain was ajar. I hadn't used the balcony at all since we had arrived (Bryce smoked out there, but otherwise stayed off it himself), but it wasn't off-limits so outside I went.

A breath of fresh air did seem like a good idea. The night air was cool, the moon still as bright as it had been in the graveyard. It didn't help.

Bryce was leaning against the railing, staring down at the city below us, cigarette dangling carelessly from two fingers. When he saw me, he threw the thing right off the balcony. It was nice that he had remembered I had quit(ish) since the day in the barn, though smell had me considering begging him for one anyway.

I leaned against the wall and glanced around. It was amazing what Cabal money could buy. The city lay stretched out before me, tiny fireflies twinkling in an out, dancing across inky darkness. Bustling life trying to claw its way out of obscurity, trying to assert its presence on an indifferent earth. I never liked L.A. There was a collective desperation in the air, a fear that I couldn't name but felt anyway. Maybe it was just the people I hung around with. Whatever the reason, I longed for a place that didn't demand anything from me, just let me lay down my head for a little while.

It was quiet up here, on top of the world, and I felt like an ancient god watching the serfs fight below me with detached amusement. No wonder Thomas was a whole lot of crazy.

"You planning on staying up long?" I asked finally.

"Couldn't sleep if I wanted to," he said carelessly. "How are you doing?"

"Bryce..." I couldn't say I was worried about him; that would just piss him off. And if I was worried about Leech, that implied there was something to be worried about, and I wasn't sure he could handle that. So I settled for a soft, "I'm fine. Tired."

"It's late. Go to bed."

I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to where he stood. Bryce was watching me in the dark. I could barely make out his silhouette but found I didn't need to, since I could feel him beside me, warm and smelling like cigarettes.

"Are you going to stay out here a while?"

"I don't know. I don't have a fucking clue."

At least he was honest.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Whatever you want, Gillian," he muttered, head turned to the sky. I wasn't quite sure, but I thought he might have been praying. What was the point? There was no plan and there sure as hell wasn't a referee—there was just people and events they either could or couldn't survive.

"I want you to come inside with me."

"Believe it or not, I'm not really in the mood."

But there wasn't the bravado there usually was; he was too tired for whatever the hell we usually did. If I was being honest, so was I. I just didn't want him outside brooding all night.

"Just come inside. Please?"

So he let me pull him indoors.

We didn't say much as we changed, though he did complain bitterly about the shirt I chose, ranting about how little I appreciated proper music (I hadn't realized it was a band, so I said nothing). Eventually, he got into the bed and I climbed in after him, pulling the comforter up around me to stay warm.

We lay beside each other, both staring up at the perfect white ceiling. "He'll be all right," I said, finally. "He'll get better and you'll make fun of him and it'll be okay. Like it was before."

"It wasn't okay before. It's never..."

His voice made me shiver, but he must have thought it was the cold, because he pulled me closer, trying to keep me warm.

"At least I bought him some time, I guess." He had to cling to the little things, since that's all he got. "And...I did get to talk to Savannah, if only briefly. Even if all I did was kick the crap out of her."

"Actually, Bryce, I think she kicked your ass."

"You're clearly delusional."

But there was a hint of laughter in his voice and it was like finally having permission to fall asleep. So I did.

I don't know what time it was, but the room was completely dark when I woke up. Bryce was sitting up on the bed, talking on the phone. Talking wasn't the right word. He was just sort of mumbling his agreement, finally saying, "I'll be there in half an hour. Do you want me to bring Paige?"

Then he hung up and turned on the light and began scrambling for clothes. I sat up in bed and drew his attention. Noticing I was awake, he began to explain: "That was Sean. The werewolves managed to track Edmund coming out of a pharmacy ten minutes ago. The troops are being mobilized. I'm heading out."

"We're heading out," I corrected, rising.

He pushed me down while shrugging on his jeans. "Like hell you are. You are staying in this hotel room until I get back. And Grant is going to make sure you stay alive."

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

"Despite what you think, you don't actually own me. You can't order me to stay here like a good dog. If they think they've found Savannah, I need to be there."

"They think they've found where the Eisenbergs are. It's different, so just stay here."

"So you can run off into unknown, dangerous circumstances but I can't? That's not—"

He grabbed me be the arms, keeping me on the bed. Bryce spoke slowly as if I was too brain damaged to understand. "I do not put myself in stupidly dangerous situations with no way out. I stand back and let minions die while I supervise. You...you fucking don't. You do stupid, dangerous things and I am not letting you die on me. You understand, Gillian? If I have to knock you out and chain you to this bed you are not trying to get yourself killed again."

He pulled away then, rant finished and glared down at me, daring me to contradict him. I did the only thing I could do. I reluctantly sat down on the bed and said: "Chain me to the bed? Kinky."

Bryce snorted and pushed my hair behind my ear. "You're ridiculous. Just go back to bed. Please?"

"At least take Grant with you. I'll be fine with Paulson."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But I'd rather not chance that. I'll call you the second I have news."

"You better," I muttered. Bryce started heading towards the door but I caught his wrist without thinking about why I needed him to stay. When he paused, I found myself saying, "You might as well take Grant, since I'm staying here."

"I'm taking Paulson."

"You should take Grant."

"Grant should stay here."

"Paulson should stay here."

"I'm not leaving you with Paulson."

"You're not leaving me with Grant."

"I'm not taking Grant."

"Just take him already! I'm not the one who's... just take Grant."

"I don't—"

Fine. Sometimes begging was the only thing that worked. "Please, Bryce. Take Grant. I'll be fine; you're the one who might need him."

"Are you worried about me?"

I was almost offended at how surprised he sounded, but all I did was shrug and lightly reply: "I just don't want you dead. I find funerals sort of boring."

"That was almost...what's that word of yours? Sweet?" He grinned and I was aware that this was probably only the second time I had seen him look happy. "That was sweet, Gillian."

"I guess you're rubbing off on me."

I kissed him (fairly) quickly and then called after him, "You're being a pretentious ass not letting me come!"

He flipped me off and shut the door. A glance at the clock told me it was four in the morning. Pulling the comforter over my head, I tried not to think about where he was going. Savannah would be all right. The Cabals would find her, I just knew it.

I didn't sleep at all for the rest of the night. No one called.

It was eight in the morning by the time Bryce called to give me a recap. Cabal forces had tracked Edmund to a warehouse—not actually owned by the Nasts, for once, which I was grateful for because otherwise Bryce was never going to stop bitching. They were currently engaged in a standoff, Edmund having seemed to know the Cabal SWAT teams were already there. He claimed to have rigged the place to blow and had demonstrated this truth by blowing up one of the trucks. They were now trying to negotiate.

It seemed the Eisenbergs didn't want anything less than full Cabal immunity—which they were going to get over the dead body of every major member of both the Cortez and Nast Cabals. The Eisenbergs had gravely insulted the Nasts by turning traitor and the Cortezes—despite their morals—wouldn't let Savannah's kidnapping slide. But Mariah insisted that there was no other way she would hand over Savannah and her husband glared extra hard to emphasize the point, Bryce said.

The Cabals had come back with a counter-offer sometime this morning and I could hear the Nasts all over it. The Cortezes would have tried to be a little more reasonable with the first counter-offer. The Cabals would execute the Eisenbergs—slowly, painfully, Thomas-style—but they wouldn't curse their souls for all eternity. The situation was still at a standstill as the Eisenbergs discussed the issue.

Calling up everyone else at the warehouse confirmed that nothing further had been found. It was only at ten that Bryce called back.

"They fucking blew themselves up!"

"What?" I clutched the phone tighter and tried to make out what was going on in the background as Bryce continued talking.

"They blew themselves up. I don't fucking—" He broke off, shouting at someone, muttering curses and I could hear the general chaos behind him. "They set the charges off. Took out the whole warehouse and themselves. It's fucking gone."

"Is...did...." But I couldn't bring myself to ask.

"It's been an hour. So far they've only recovered the bodies of Edmund and Mariah. No sign of Savannah. Or the kid, if he was ever there."

I let out the breath I had been holding. "Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I wanted to be sure. Don't yell at Paige, I told her not to call you. But anyway, it looks like she's still out there somewhere. We haven't been able to find anything that might match the room they were holding her in."

"It was probably underground." It might have helped her survive that way, but that would mean she would be buried alive. "Are they still digging?"

"They aren't going to stop until the whole place is excavated. But the shamans are pretty sure that there were only two of them. And the sensing spells seem to agree. So some of the bad guys are dead. We just have to hope there's not too many more of them and find Savannah."

"Are you coming back soon? Or are you going to see if you can't find other...copies of them, or whatever?"

"Everyone seems to think the answers are in the rubble, so we'll probably stay around here. Has Hollis called?"

"No. He hasn't. I called the hospital at nine. They said there was no change."

Bryce swore. "I was hoping—anyway. I'll talk to you later."

"Sure," I said and we hung up the phone.

Spreading out my spell books, I went back to work, one ear listening for the phone. But when it rang twenty minutes later. It wasn't anyone from the warehouse.

"Gillian?" Nadira's voice was shaking, nothing like the calmed, poised woman I found slightly insufferable. "Is Bryce there?"

"He's out with the task force. Are you okay?"

"I—" Her voice broke, as if she was trying not to cry. "I screwed up. I need you—I need see you. Right away. Please don't tell Bryce."

"What's wrong?"

"Just, please, Gillian. As soon as you can. It might not be too late."

And then she hung up.

Since Grant wasn't around, I had to walk myself over to the garbage nearby. Paulson entered the room at the sound of me hurling and went to get me a glass of water. I took it gratefully, gulping down the cool water that was doing nothing to calm my panicked thoughts. Exactly what had she screwed up when screwing around with my body?

"We have to go to Nadira's," I told the bodyguard. "Now."

"Grant said to stay here."

"Paulson!" My voice came out as a shriek and I forced myself to calm down. "I need to go see her. Immediately. Call Grant, confirm it with him—and know I'm going to go no matter what you do, so you better be prepared to hold me down if you don't want me to leave."

He realized I was serious, because he sighed. "Fine. Let me call Grant first."

"I don't want him telling Bryce. Not until I know what she wants." If she had screwed up, Bryce could never know. He would never forgive his grandfather if it wasn't a lie. "Make that clear."

"Okay," he agreed. In the end, we got permission to go. Paulson did have to listen to a long lecture about how to do his job properly, but he spent most of it making faces at me, so Grant's lecture went quickly and in the end we piled into one of the numerous black SUVs the Cabals had lying around and began driving to Nadira's house.

"If I was pregnant, could you hear a heartbeat?"

"Not for weeks," he said. "You think—you think that's why she wants to talk to you?"

"I don't know. I hope not." Taking a deep breath, I pushed on. "I really hope not."

"She's a complete overly emotional nutcase," Paulson assured me. "That's what Grant said. He didn't say it like that, of course, because he's Grant, but that's what it would have translated to if he was normal. So I wouldn't worry too much. She's probably just feeling lonely today and figured scaring you would be the fastest way to get you over."

"How weird is it that your explanation makes sense?"

"I don't make the rules."

We just lived with them. It didn't make feel better, exactly, but it calmed me down. It very well could be true. She could just want to talk. With a sigh, I wished she had the decency to pick up the phone when I tried to call her back.

When we pulled up in front of the gorgeous mansion, it was to find the gate wide open for us. "I think she really wants to see you," Paulson unhelpfully summarized.

"I don't think it means good news awaits me."

He didn't either, but he had the decency not to point it out. He just dropped me off at the door and waved good luck.

The door was opened before I walked up the stairs.

"It's good to see you," Nadira said, enveloping me in a giant hug. "Come on, we need to be in the living room."

"What did you do?" I demanded. "Because I need to know. Now. Whatever you did to me—"

"I have to undo it. Just give me a second, it won't take long to fix. Returning you to your natural state never does."

I let her push me onto the couch, even let her get her hands under my shirt, before I managed to ask again: "What did you screw up the first time?"

"I'll explain in a minute, Gillian. I'll explain when—when the bodyguard finishes parking the car. Did—" The smile on her face was painful, in its artificiality. "Did you bring Grant with you?"

"He's with Bryce." But the warning bells I had been too freaked out to hear before suddenly kicked in, loud and clear. I would have bet good money that Nadira would never hurt Bryce—but that didn't mean she wouldn't hurt me. "Listen—"

My mouth stayed open. I just couldn't move.

Her amber eyes glanced up at whoever had entered the room, taking up position behind me, wide with horror. Then she hurried back to work, trying not to look at me, and trying not to cry.

"They have Papa," she told me. "I had to..."

Not that I could say anything thing to that, because I was in a body bind, but there was a hell of a lot I wanted to say. Not that reminding her that her father didn't talk to her, didn't want her, would have likely left her to die if the situation had been reverse would have done anything. Blind hatred seemed to be interpreted as love by Cabal brats.

"I'm done," she said, finally. "You're perfectly healthy now, Gillian. Perfectly healthy. I hope you can—"

When the gunshot went off, I wanted to jump, but I couldn't. I could only watch as her body crumpled to the floor, the orange material of her outfit spreading outward along with the blood.

Even if he hadn't taken a starring role in my nightmares, I would have recognized Edmund Eisenberg from the night at the club, even if his long face and dark hair speckled with white were rather forgettable. There was a gun in his hand.

"I let her father go," he explained, like that somehow made it all better, like this was just a business deal gone right. The white carpet was turning red underneath her as he put down the gun and pulled out a syringe from his coat pocket. "Don't worry, Gillian. This won't hurt a bit."

Then he stuck the needle into my arm.