Chapter 42

Those who cannot do, teach. It's an old axiom and surprisingly more true than most people like to think. Bryce had never finished teaching me the spell he cast the spell to make buildings shake, but I had learned enough that I was able to teach Savannah. In just under an hour (which gave us just under two hours to stop her brother from dying, but I was not thinking about that).

"Ready?" she asked me.

We were pressed up against the side of the container, hoping that we'd be safe there, in case the roof crashed down on us.

"Ready," I called. Savannah would cast the spell and I would lightning bolt the hell out of the first person who came through the door.

Her hand found mine and she began to chant.

A low rumble echoed around us, followed by a louder, thundering sound. Then there was the sound of cracking and Savannah's hand tightened around mine to celebrate her triumph. Wherever we were, hopefully people would come rescue us when Savannah brought everything down on us.

She cast the spell continuously, the way I had seen Bryce do it. Keeping myself up against the wall grew difficult as the entire container began to vibrate. And then I heard it—the sound of people rushing to get the door opened.

I got the first Edmund with a lightning bolt; in a stroke of sheer dumb luck, he dropped his gun and I was able to scramble for it. Guns had been my father's life—but while I could identify most assault rifles by sight, I had no idea how to shoot them. Randy had succeeded in protecting me that way.

Fortunately, you don't have to be able to use a gun to throw it at someone's face.

The other Edmund didn't have time to realize what had happened. As his hands went to protect his face, I muttered a binding spell. It was an old habit and it worked under pressure when other spells wouldn't have. It gave me the time to cast a spell that froze his neck. Picking up the gun that had again fallen to the ground, I swung it as hard as I could into the icy patch I had created. It shattered. It almost took his head clean off.

I had never intentionally killed anyone before today. The occasionally lightning bolt was as far as I used to go, and I was so weak I doubted I had ever killed anyone with it. So I expected to feel bad about it. Maybe I would. Later. That second, I was almost glad. Because he had pushed a gun against my temple and watched as his wife told me how they required me to make my own nightmares come true.

Also helping stop the guilt was the fact that the Eisenbergs didn't really seemed alive. Not that I thought they was some kind of zombies but there was a sort of inevitability in their actions. Mariah talked as if she was merely reading lines in a play she already knew the ending to. Death just seemed to be a temporary rushing off of stage.

Maybe I was over-rationalizing.

"Come on, Savannah," I called, checking the pulse on the other Edmund. He was still alive, so I stopped his breath until he wasn't. Savannah didn't even glance down, just kept repeating the spell as she stepped out of the container she had spent almost a week inside.

We were in a basement.

"Savannah!"

She stopped as I dove out of the way of a falling beam. The house (it honestly seemed to be a residential house) seemed to be no more than a little worse for wear, with few cracks in the wall and a gaping hole in the ceiling above us.

"How do we get out?"

"No clue. Start looking for an exit."

"How creepy serial killer is it that they have this thing in here? Are construction workers morons or what? How do you not think this is being used for nefarious purposes?"

"We can complain to the city later."

"Here," she called over only seconds later. The staircase had fallen away in places, but we rushed over it anyway. I went first, since I was lighter, and when what was left held for me, Savannah followed as quickly as she could.

Upstairs was a mess—things had fallen apart in a spectacular fashion. Furniture was everywhere, though it didn't look like they had too much to begin with. Paintings were crooked, there was plaster everywhere...and where were our resident bad guys?

The knockback spell took me by surprise, flinging me into Savannah, knocking us both backwards. We were lucky; we didn't end up falling back down the stairwell, but instead flew into a lavishly decorated dining room, hitting the wall and knocking plaster everywhere. I saw stars, but managed to scramble after Savannah when she took cover behind the buffet. Considering it had an unfinished basement from a horror movie in it, the house was really nice. Fortunately, Savannah could concentrate like I never could. Weak or not, she was already mid-cast.

"Turn," I shrieked and she did, unleashing the lightning bolt spell on the Mariah who, already in the room, was practically on top of us. I swore and picked up the axe she had been brandishing. Mariah was a necromancer and that meant she was stuck relying on her own physical strength. I might be small but I was pretty sure I could take her, as long as she didn't have the bigger weapon.

Savannah cast a quick knockback spell at the Edmund who had pushed us into the corner in the first place and then knocked the nearest chair into the next carbon copy that walked through the door. I had him in a binding spell, so the force of the chair managed to knock him out.

We couldn't stay where we were, though, since they had all the advantages and we couldn't cast spells forever. Savannah already looked too pale for my liking, but she was also in charge when we were fighting for our lives. When she waved me out, I slipped into the kitchen, to sneak around the back to surprise them while she kept them distracted.

No sooner than I entered the new room, than I spotted Mariah behind the counter. She was a lot younger than the one who had talked to us downstairs, but not as young as the Mariah from the party. She was talking on a walkie-talkie, telling whoever was on the other end to meet at the rendezvous point. I walked quietly and she didn't even hear me coming. I guess they really were useless without knowing all the answers first.

I swung the axe sideways, catching her on the side of the head with the flat part of the blade. She went down, hard. I didn't check her pulse; I should have taken her out, but she hadn't attacked me first. Call me squeamish, but I didn't want to behead someone and see all the actual blood. So I just pretended she was no longer a threat and moved on.

Outside, I could see versions of Mariah and Edmund slipping out the back, just about to disappear into the trees. Savannah would yell at me later, but I wasn't going to leave her alone in this house, even if I should stop the Eisenbergs. Instead, I hurried around and cast a binding spell on the Edmund coming through the door. Then I hit him with the axe.

Something hit me from behind and I dropped, more from surprise than anything, turning as I fell to see yet another Mariah (this one relatively younger) with a frying pan over her head. I launched myself at her legs, toppling her.

I may have been small, and I may have neglected my training for the past two weeks aside from the gym at the hotel, but I was still stronger than a corporate lackey, especially one without useful supernatural powers in a fight. I got my hands around her throat and squeezed. While she was desperately clawing at my hands, I readied a lightning bolt spell, only to find myself being hauled off of her.

Edmund took the lightning bolt spell instead; Mariah was screamed as he fell to the ground. But she seemed to be the only one left around, besides the Edmund Savannah was straddling back in the dining room, unable to defend himself as she beat the shit out of him.

"That's for the cattle prods! That's for calling me useless! That's for throwing me into another dimension! That's for spitting in my food!"

"Savannah!"

Mariah had managed to grab the axe, but I ducked just in time, rolling out of the way as quickly as I could. Saying a spell while you're breathless and terrified for your life is just as hard as it sounds. So I picked up the frying pan she had brought and tried blocking the axe with that.

Who keeps an axe in their house anyway?

People with torture chambers in their basements. Duh.

The axe went through part of the pan, knocking it right out of my hands. Shit, shit, shit. She brought her hands over her head and as I was debating throwing myself right at her or just turning and running, she froze.

"Thank you, Savannah."

"Any time," she said, coming out of the other room. Since she was leaning against the wall to support herself, I hurried to pick up the frying pan and bash Mariah over the head with it. Whatever worked. She was definitely still alive, but she would at least have a concussion—which was only fair, because I'm pretty sure she had given me one.

"You okay?"

Without glancing at her grazed knuckles, she shrugged. "I thought there would be more of them."

"They escaped out the back."

"They escaped?" But she wasn't mad at me. "I thought we were supposed to be more valuable than that."

"Let's just get out of here. We'll figure it out after," I pleaded.

Though she would never ask for help, I hurried to her side, to help her stand up straight. Her week in captivity had done more damage than she wanted to admit. Hell, the fight had taken more out of me than I wanted to admit. I was already scrapping the bottom of my spell casting power as it was. So we were equally weak as we leaned on each other to walk out the front door.

It was locked. Of course.

Savannah let out a stream of curses, but cast the unlocking spell herself. "I fucking hate these people."

"Tell me about it. Kidnappers who don't want to get robbed? Assholes."

She was laughing when we pulled open the door. She stopped laughing pretty quickly.

We were staring at...I don't even know what we were staring at. Well, I did. I just couldn't believe it. I didn't think they made Cabal forces this big.

"So, Gillian...I don't think they were running away from us."

"I think you're right about that."

We were at the end of a nice dead end street in the California suburbs (a really nice street, since they needlessly had basements) and as far as I could see there were black SUVs and men with machine guns everywhere. How were they going to keep the neighbours from noticing this? In front of us stood a small army.

Something launched itself over the white picket fence in front of the house. A big, black gigantic dog-thing was walking towards us. Beside me, Savannah smiled.

"Hey, Jeremy. The bad guys are getting away in the back. Could you go catch them, please?"

With a bark, the wolf was off, followed by more wolves and some of the men in black. There was a shout from somewhere, and we turned to see Paige and Lucas practically sprinting towards us. We hobbled towards them as best we could, but we didn't make it out of the yard before they reached us.

I got picked up sometime during the hugging, but more because Savannah didn't let go of me, even as she threw her arms around them. I didn't mind. It was nice to feel as if I had been missed, even if it was only second-hand.

Paige and Lucas had just finished welcoming back their ward when Adam came out of nowhere, hugging her tightly until I was embarrassed for her (she would stop blushing one of these days). More people would be coming soon and Savannah got that because she put an end to the hugging.

"How did you find us?" she demanded, interrupting their questions about how she had escaped (and how I had beaten them there—wasn't I back at the hotel?).

"Thomas," Lucas said with no reluctance. "The Nasts managed to get the address from Penelope Yi—Jaime was apparently wrong about the curses place upon her. The house belongs to someone in their organization, though they can hopefully prove they were unaware of the use that was being found for it. The werewolves picked up your scent when they came to investigate and they called in Kenneth and when he saw all the protections on the place, he called in reinforcements."

"Does that—is Leech awake, then?"

Lucas didn't know how to answer my question, but Paige nodded. "I think I heard Sean was told he was doing better than they expected."

Saying Sean's name apparently had a magical effect, because suddenly he was right there. With a delighted shout, he wrapped his arms around Savannah. Since I wasn't exactly fond of her brother at the moment, I finally noticed people really needed to stop hugging her. She wouldn't complain, but there were some nasty, if not life-threatening burns on her body that someone needed to look at.

So I told Paige, "Someone needs to look her over. They weren't always gentle with her."

"We'll take her to a hospital now." She hesitated and then added, "There's a bodyguard behind us who seems anxious to speak to you."

When my step towards him wasn't as sure as it should have been, Grant teleported beside me, catching my arm. "Thanks," I muttered. It probably wasn't proper protocol that had him wrapping his arms around me, but I appreciated it just the same. I needed something steady.

"How in the world are you here, Miss MacArthur?" he demanded as he pulled away. "You're supposed to be with Mrs Patel, not...here."

"It's...I need to talk to you. And Bryce. He's here, right?"

I didn't even have time to start begging, because Grant was already nodding. "Thomas—Mr Nast doesn't wish to abandon his grandfather. However, I was told to bring you back when you had a minute."

A look at Paige (and her resigned, if loving smile) and then I was holding out my arm to Grant, who took that as agreement. We appeared in the middle of the crowd a few times before we found ourselves on the outskirts, twenty feet from a crowd of tall blonde men. None of them looked happy to see me, but only one was furious about it.

Not that Bryce was able to leave his grandfather's side. We had to wait until Grant politely requested his presence for a moment, then wait until Thomas gave permission, before he could come over. Even then, we were still too close his relatives for my liking, though from the way Thomas was glaring I didn't think I was going to get much more privacy. It wasn't so bad, though, because he might not have been allowed to touch me, but Bryce had this look in his eyes that that was as good as being hugged, anyway.

"How the hell did you get here? You're supposed to be at the hotel."

"Have you bothered calling me since ten? Because if you had, you would have realized I haven't been at the hotel for hours. I've been getting to know your psycho employees."

"They... are you okay? They didn't...you're fine, right?"

It was actually a lot better than being hugged.

"I'm fine. But...Paulson's dead. I think."

"What?"

"If you haven't heard from him since lunch, telling you I disappeared, I'm guessing he's dead."

"Grant?"

The older bodyguard looked stricken. "I've been communicating with him all afternoon."

"Apparently not. Great, another security breach to look into." His eyes returned to me, studying me carefully. "What's with that look, Gillian? Because if there's something wrong with you and you're not telling me, I'm going to be pissed later."

"I'm fine," I repeated. But I couldn't just blurt out what was bothering me, not with all the bastards he called family standing around. Animals could smell blood, after all. I took a step closer and muttered as quietly as I could, "Hug me."

"What?"

I mouthed the words again, glaring all the while. With a quirk of his eyebrows he informed he thought I was insane. Still, he braved their disapproving looks and stepped forward, put his arms on my hips and lifted me up. After I wrapped my arms and legs around him, I whispered in his ear, as quietly as I could: "I went to Nadira's. Edmund was there. He killed her; I saw him. I'm so sorry Bryce, but she's dead."

The arms around me tightened a little, but only for a moment. At least he could hide his face in my hair until he could collect himself. When he started to shake, he dropped me more suddenly than I had expected. Paler than normal, he pushed past me for a second, trying to give himself a moment. I smiled as brightly as I could, as if everything were fine, and asked Grant if he couldn't get me something to drink. The bodyguard was quick, but Bryce returned before he did, catching my eyes, pleading with me to laugh this off, to explain this was another one of my crazy stories.

"I'm sorry."

"Okay," he said. "Okay. Um...why the hell were you there, anyway?"

This time, when I lied, it wasn't to help me. "They took her father. She contacted me to come help her and we were trying to figure something out when Edmund attacked us. He put me in a body bind curse and I—I couldn't help her. He shot her."

He swore, but the colour was coming back. He would freak out later, in private. "If they ask, Leech introduced you, okay?"

With that, he turned and hurried back towards his grandfather, pulling me along after him. Thomas didn't look pleased with the success he was having today and his expression didn't get any happier when Bryce asked: "Where's Bidibadi?"

"At the office," Josef replied. How much did it suck that I was learning their names?

"Are we sure?"

Thomas snapped his fingers and suddenly four of the people around him were pulling out Blackberries and cellphones, contacting the shaman. "What's this about, Bryce?"

"Gillian overheard them say something about him. I just want to make sure he's okay. She thinks they killed his daughter."

"Send someone to check on her as well," Thomas ordered. "Just in case. But make sure she doesn't see."

"We can't locate him, sir," one of the flunkies said. "His bodyguards aren't responding, either."

"Are they coming after the entire board now?"

I almost had a heart attack. Thomas Nast actually turned his face in my direction, locked eyes with a witch and spoke (almost) politely to me. Trying not to let my surprise show, I focused on answering. "I don't think so, sir. It sounded like they were going after Hollis, and anyone else who grew up with his son, but the rest of the board should be safe."

"Then they should have gone after me first," Bryce interrupted.

I made a mental note to grab his lighter as soon as possible—I couldn't risk having Thomas see the spell that was currently in my pocket. All I did was say, "They were going to. They told Savannah your corpse would be joining us tonight. Bidibadi might have been bait."

Thomas seemed to like that excuse, since it was far better than acknowledging all the rules Bryce had broken to see Nadira, or, heaven forbid, acknowledging I might be important enough to be bait. He nodded, once, before declaring:

"I am personally cursing as many bodies as we find. Understood?"

The flunkies nodded, suggesting curses he might prefer, while I tried to disappear from view while not offending anyone. How well I did was debatable, but when Bryce informed his grandfather there was also another security breach I slipped to Grant's side without it being obvious I was running away.

Thomas didn't like hearing about yet another security breach, which is why the board quaked when he demanded someone explain how that had been able to happen.

"The Eisenbergs haven't been allowed in the office since their involvement was pointed out to us," some AVP stammered. "There's no way to circumvent communications otherwise."

"We are supernaturals, in case you've forgotten," Thomas snapped. "There are magical means of interference."

"You'd need a whole gallon of demon blood, just to start," Josef said. "There's no way—"

Shit.

"We didn't drain the demon," Bryce interrupted. He didn't bother looking apologetic, because it wouldn't have done any good. The board was already looking at him like he was a moron—even Grant looked a little horror-stricken at our carelessness at leaving demon blood in a dead demon.

"Lucas didn't say anything either," I muttered. That was the problem with hanging around white hats—they didn't know dark magic. My mind went back to the symbols on Lucas's body, on the ritual we had seen them performing—the one we never had discovered. The Eisenbergs were spellcasters; it wouldn't have been much of a stretch to think they had just written random Hebrew symbols on Lucas.

A fake spell, and a reward for the men of Twelve-Thirteen who desperately wanted to die. If Lucas died, so much the better to scare Thomas by pissing off Benecio Cortez. They got us to kill the demon they used to get Savannah and I involved with the Nasts in the first place, and then they got all the demon blood they needed. Weren't we helpful?

"Someone fix our security," Thomas demanded. "Again."

"Still having trouble with that, Thomas?" a voice boomed. A strong, powerful voice that belonged to the most powerful supernatural in North American—and Benecio Cortez wasn't coming alone. Lucas, Paige and Savannah were following him, as well as his own group of corporate flunkies. I wanted to hide behind Grant.

"Not for long," Thomas said, turning to address his younger counterpart.

Behind Benecio, Savannah waved hello, causing her brother to roll his eyes, causing her to flip him off, making him laugh. I ignored their silent conversation and paid attention to the corporate heavyweights beside them.

"Of course. I have no doubt you've managed to contain the loose cannons in your organization even though they continue to elude the rest of us."

Thomas glowered—which only got worse when Savannah cheerfully declared: "It's not his fault they're smarter than him. They just already know what's going to happen. Sure, this time you caught them off guard when you showed up just now, but they'll fix that next time.

They hadn't expected Leech to come through, pushed on by guilt and the knowledge he would end up like his mother, but with nothing to show for it. But Savannah was right—next time they would.

Though Thomas was throwing a tiny fit that said otherwise. "I suggest we head them off when they return to the time tear they insist on opening on my property so there isn't a next time. Give out the location of the warehouse," Thomas snapped at his subordinates. "I want everyone there now. That's where they're heading—if we don't stop them from getting there first, we're just going give them another chance to try again, and get it right this time. Benecio, you're help is no longer necessary. You have your—" he snarled the word "—granddaughter. I can take care of my own employees."

"If you're sure you don't require assistance—"

"I'm sure. Now why is everyone still standing around? Move!"

The flunkies flew to work, as did the board of directors. Sean was politely thanking the Cortezes for all their help, while Thomas was telling Josef to find out what had happened to Bidibadi. Leaning on Adam, Savannah meandered over to her brother.

"Could you just give us a sec?" she said to the half-demon, who nodded, surprised, but supportively, and slipped back over to Paige's side. But she motioned for me to stay put, so I did.

"What?" Bryce demanded. "Unless you want me to hit you, I'm not touching you. It would kill him."

"I know." Savannah straightened her back. "I want to see Leech. Gillian told me what he did and I want to thank him. They aren't going to let me go on the hunt for the bad guys, but I figure if he's at a hospital and I have to go to a hospital...we might as well do both at the same time."

"I can't take you to a Nast hospital."

Savannah looked at me expectantly, so I spoke up: "Technically, since she was attacked by your employees, the company has a certain obligation to make she's all right."

"Grandpa will kill me."

His sister shrugged. "Tell him what Gillian said. You were just covering his ass."

"It's not going to go over well."

"So I should get Sean to take me?"

Considering she had essentially grown up as an only child, Savannah wasn't bad at the sibling stuff. Bryce narrowed his eyes, glancing at his brother talking to Benecio Cortez—Sean would take Savannah just to prove a point, even though he should go and make sure his grandfather didn't start trying to rip the Eisenbergs limb from limb with his own hands. It would be bad for the old man's health.

The board was gone and Bryce desperately wanted to see Leech. That much was obvious. With a sigh, he finally caved. "Fine. I'll take you to the hospital. But don't be annoying about it."

"Please. I'm never annoying." She turned around and, at the top of her lungs, called out to Paige: "Bryce is taking me to the doctor! Don't worry about it! The Nasts will look after me!"

"Can I kill her?" he asked me.

I didn't answer. I was too busy restraining myself from hugging her again when she turned around. She laughed at my expression, of course, saying, "Stop worrying about me, Gidget. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. But you're here."

"Grant?" Bryce called. "Help her to the car."

When Grant offered 'Miss Levine' his arm, she laughed some more, easily taking it, calling him Jeeves and Shorty and anything else that popped into her head as she enjoyed having someone other than the walls to talk to. I trailed along after her, beside her brother.

"They'll catch them all," he told me. "It'll be over soon."

"I know." A girl could hope.

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, then said: "Did...was she...did he make her suffer?"

"No. He was a crack shot. She was quiet before she hit the ground."

"No one knows how to do vengeance like Grandpa," he said, to reassure himself. "He'll find them and curse them."

"And that will be that."

Once again, Bryce opened his mouth, but there was nothing left to say. He helped me into the SUV without a word.

Savannah filled the silence on the way over, cheerfully calling everyone, relaying the hunt for the Eisenbergs to us. Some of them had headed towards the warehouse, but not all of them—no one had gotten a good count, though the beds at the house suggested there was at least fourteen of them. At last count there were seven corpses. That didn't reassure me as I destroyed the spell they had given me. They had been too sure; they had done this more times than I wanted to think about.

"They'll find them all," Savannah told me. "Besides, where are they going to hide?"

"Considering they've done this at least seven times," at the very least, assuming none of them had died the other times and I thought that was unlikely, "I'm sure they have a few spots picked out."

"We'll sniff them out. Now excuse me while I call the head of the Cortez operation," she winked.

I rolled my eyes at how quickly Savannah went power mad, before glancing over at Bryce, who didn't even look like he was paying attention. He was going to have to tell Leech when we got there. No wonder he looked awful. I took his hand and gave it a small squeeze. With a quiet sigh, he managed to quirk his lips upwards. It wasn't very reassuring.

When we arrived at the hospital, Grant asked permission to leave, to hunt down Paulson's body. There was a quiet reverence in his words that managed to make the situation serious; even Savannah's overly loud "Paulie's dead?" couldn't destroy the heaviness that settled over us. Bryce gave his permission, asking if the older man was all right. With a nod, Grant took his leave, while Savannah turned to me, confused and a little upset. We had won—her happiness was supposed to be flawless.

And now it wasn't.

"Paulson might be fine," I suggested to her, but the frown had come and now it wouldn't stop.

"Can we see Leech now?" For the first time, she sounded like she understood what he had given to help us. When we went inside, it wasn't going to be fun.

"Come on," Bryce said.

The woman behind the reception desk jumped three feet in the air when she saw a member of the inner family walking through door. She might have pulled something, she stood up to greet him so fast. As Savannah rolled her eyes, Bryce got us directions to Leech's room. It was a beautiful hospital, gleaming but still homely enough not to be intimidating. That didn't make the thought of Leech spending the rest of his life in a place like this any more reassuring. But I was becoming a pessimist—he hadn't gone crazy yet. Maybe the spirits would never discover what he had done. Maybe they would leave him alone.

Maybe.

"Come on. This way," Bryce said. "Don't stay too long. He's still a little shaky. And someone needs to look you over. You look like shit."

"I look better than you," Savannah tried to snap back. They were both too tired for this, but they were trying.

"The injuries do disguise your resemblance to a horse."

"Okay, week of captivity or not, I can still kick your ass."

"Please, you couldn't do it healthy. Like hell you could do it now."

"Watch—"

The three of us stared at Mariah Eisenberg, who smiled at us sweetly. "Gillian, could you please shut the door?"

I shut it. I had to. Randy might not have taught me much about handguns, but I didn't need to know the make and model to know that it was a very bad thing that she had a weapon pointed at Leech.