24
AT THE CHECKPOINT BACK INTO DEADTOWN, THE ZOMBIE
guard eyed Mab’s ID. He flicked a glance toward her face, then
blinked and stared hard. He looked at the ID then back to Mab. ID,
Mab. ID, Mab. He typed into his computer and squinted at the
screen. He waited, tapping his fingers on his desk, until the
computer beeped. He squinted at the screen again. Once more, he
compared Mab’s picture with her actual face. Finally, he shrugged.
“You should update your photo, ma’am.” His polite voice held a
warning. “It will prevent future delays at the checkpoint.” He
handed both IDs back to me.
The photo on the card in my hand, taken yesterday,
showed someone who could be the daughter of the woman at my side.
With each minute that passed, Mab was aging almost visibly. A
dowager’s hump had sprouted between her shoulders, and her spine
curved like a shepherd’s crook. She clutched my arm with ropy,
liver-spotted hands. She could barely walk; I picked her up again
so I could carry her through the streets of Deadtown. She turned
her face to my shoulder and let me.
At the door to my building, though, she insisted I
put her down. “I’ll walk across the lobby myself,” she insisted.
Even her voice had aged, to a thin, tremulous, almost-whine.
Clyde came over to assist us. “Another relative,
Ms. Vaughn?” he asked, offering Mab his arm.
“No,” said Mab, all dignity. “We met yesterday. I’m
Vicky’s aunt, Mab.”
Poor Clyde nearly choked on his mortification. “I .
. .” He coughed, swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it, then
coughed again. “I do apologize.”
Mab harrumphed and accepted his proffered
arm.
“She’s had a rough night,” I said. “She’ll be
better tomorrow.” I sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods might
be listening that it would be so.
Mab harrumphed again. She shuffled across the
lobby, leaning her whole weight on Clyde and me.
“Would you like me to accompany you upstairs?” he
asked, pressing the elevator button.
“No, thank you, Clyde. We’ll be fine,” I
said.
“Very good.” When the elevator door opened, he
helped Mab inside, then stepped back out into the lobby. The doors
closed on his puzzled face.
“Almost home.” I patted Mab’s arm, hoping the
gesture gave more assurance than I felt.
Mab sighed. The sound seemed to hold all the
weariness of the ages. “This place, child, is very, very far from
home.”
IN MY APARTMENT, KANE CIRCLED MAB, SNIFFING,
GIVING me inquiring looks. I told him I had to get Mab to bed, and
he backed off as I helped her into my bedroom. Once she was settled
under the covers, Kane came in and sat on his haunches, staring at
my aunt. She lay back with her eyes closed. There’s little
time, she’d said. Right now, she looked like someone with no
more than a few grains of sand left in her hourglass. Kane lifted
his muzzle. His nostrils flared, as though he were trying to catch
the scent of what had happened.
Two people I cared about, both so drastically
altered. Tears pressed at my eyes, and I pinched myself to make
them stop. I couldn’t afford to cry. I had to figure out what to
do.
“Myrddin stole Mab’s bloodstone,” I told Kane. He
cocked his head, asking what exactly that meant. I wanted to know
more, myself, but now wasn’t the time to exhaust Mab further.
I laid a gentle hand on my aunt’s arm. “Mab?” Her
eyes fluttered open. They were cloudy with cataracts. “What can I
do to help you? Are there herbs I can get? Roxana—the witch—should
I bring her back?”
“No, child. None of that would help.”
“Can you shift? Would that bring back your
strength?” But even as I asked, I knew that the feeble old woman
lying in my bed could never summon the energy for a shift. Mab
merely shook her head.
“Well, maybe you’ll feel better after you get some
rest.” It was the lamest thing I’d ever said in my entire life, but
I couldn’t admit there was nothing we could do.
“I taught you better than that, child,” Mab’s thin
voice admonished. “Wishful thinking means nothing. Unless you can
retrieve the bloodstone, I’m finished. I will continue to age until
my body gives out.”
“I’ll get it back.” But how? I didn’t know where
Myrddin’s safe house was, and I didn’t know if I could face
Myrddin—and his army of Old Ones, vampires, and human
servants—alone. Saying I’d get the bloodstone back felt like more
wishful thinking. But I needed to try to comfort Mab. “I won’t let
Myrddin . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Won’t let him what, child? Kill me? If only that
were all he had in mind.” Her rheumy eyes closed, and her voice,
barely audible, trembled with weariness. “Myrddin won’t kill me.
He’ll bring me to the very end of life, to the point where death is
the only thing still desired. And then he’ll use the bloodstone to
imprison me, as I did to him fifteen hundred years ago.”
MY HEAD SPUN WITH QUESTIONS, BUT I COULDN’T
TROUBLE Mab with them now. She was sleeping; a quiet snoring buzzed
from my bedroom. Sitting on the living-room sofa, I listened,
cherishing those snores. Each one meant another breath.
I checked the splint I’d put on my wrist. My kind
heals quickly—the pain had already diminished—but it takes time for
bones to knit back together. Keeping the wrist immobile would make
sure they healed properly. Right now, though, I had more to worry
about than a broken wrist.
Mab said she’d imprisoned Myrddin fifteen centuries
ago. Was she telling me she was—or had been—Nimuë? According to
legend, Nimuë had seduced Merlin and imprisoned him in a hawthorn
tree. No, a yew tree, Mab had corrected. I guess she’d know. She
also said she’d had many lifetimes. That was how she knew so much
about Myrddin—she’d battled him before and won. No wonder Myrddin
was obsessed with revenge.
He wouldn’t succeed. I’d promised my aunt I’d get
the bloodstone back. And I would, somehow.
In forty-eight hours, the Reaper would claim
another victim. The final point of the eihwaz rune was on the edge
of Boston Common, near the Boylston Street T station. Myrddin would
be there with his lidded jar. I couldn’t be sure he’d have the
bloodstone with him—but I could be damn sure he’d expect me. He
wanted my life force for Pryce.
It would be better if I could ambush him where he
wasn’t expecting me: at the safe house. Myrddin must be
there now, waiting until he could complete his ritual. It was
probably where the Old Ones had taken Juliet, as well. But I didn’t
have the slightest idea where the safe house might be. All Juliet
could tell us was that it was in the basement of a brick town
house—and Boston was full of those.
Kane settled on the cushion beside me, resting his
head on my thigh. Gray eyes, a man’s eyes, regarded me from his
wolf’s face. “How can we find the safe house, Kane?”
His head lifted, ears alert, and he jumped from the
sofa and ran to the front door. He turned and looked back at me
expectantly. When I didn’t move, he let out a frustrated yip.
“I can’t take you with me.” Even with Roxana’s
charm to disguise him, it felt too risky to have Kane running
around Boston in his wolf form. “I need you to stay with
Mab.”
Kane barked again, more aggressively this
time.
“Stop it. We promised Clyde that no one would know
you’re here.” Besides, I wasn’t going to argue with a wolf.
Kane came back over, caught my sleeve in his teeth,
and pulled. When I shook him off, he nipped my skin.
“Ow!” I rubbed the spot. No broken skin, but it
stung. I glared at him.
Seeing he had my attention, he put his nose to the
floor and ran around in circles, sniffing exaggeratedly. Okay, so
in wolf form he was an expert tracker. But Myrddin had left the
scene through the demon plane, and Kane couldn’t track his scent
there. I told him so, and he yipped again.
He had a point. The Old Ones who’d grabbed Juliet
were vampires, not demons. They couldn’t travel through the demon
plane. And they had a very distinctive scent. Kane could track
them, find out where they went. Even better, I could let him get
Juliet’s scent from an item of her clothing and he could track her
specifically.
“But what about Mab?” I didn’t think Myrddin would
try to attack her here. He didn’t need to when he had the
bloodstone. But I couldn’t leave her on her own, weak and ill as
she was.
The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I
snatched it up before the noise could wake Mab.
“Hello?”
It was Clyde. “Tina would like to pay you a visit?”
There was a reason he phrased the statement as a question. Tina
never, ever paused to let Clyde call upstairs. She always breezed
past his desk, assuming (a) he’d know where she was going and (b)
I’d be delighted to see her. Clyde must be questioning why she’d
stopped to let him call up.
Tina’s voice sounded in the background. “That’s
not how I said to say it. Give me that.”
There was a squeak—from Clyde, I assumed—and then
Tina came on the line. “What he was supposed to say was
‘Tina requests your royal permission to come upstairs and return
your stupid book.’ I wrote it down and everything. Since, you know,
you made it clear that you don’t want to see me and all. I’m only
doing it because I told your aunt I would.”
I closed my eyes. I had an idea, one I was sure I’d
regret, but I was short on both time and options. “Yes, fine, Tina.
Please come up. Tell Clyde I said it’s okay.”
She hung up without another word.
“What do you think?” I asked Kane, who sat by the
door. “Am I crazy?”
He thumped his tail on the floor and nodded. Then
he nuzzled my hand.
I put Roxana’s charm around Kane’s neck and watched
as he took on the appearance of a German shepherd. Then I opened
the door to watch for Tina. The elevator dinged, and she stepped
out, holding Russom’s in both hands.
“Here,” she said, thrusting it toward me. “Here’s
your book. I’ve gotta go.”
I opened the door wider. “Come in, Tina. I need to
ask you a favor.”
Tina rolled her eyes, but she huffed past me into
the living room. She dropped Russom’s on the coffee table
with a bang.
“Shh!” I said. “My aunt’s asleep.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Tina spoke in a whisper. “But I don’t
see why I should do you any favors, not after you dropped me—” Her
eyes widened when she saw Kane, and she forgot about whispering.
“You got a dog?”
Kane growled, and I patted his head to make him
stop. It was better that Tina didn’t know his real identity. She
wouldn’t exactly be my first choice if I were looking for someone
to keep a secret.
“I’m watching him for someone. Just for a few
days.” Or until the next full moon, I hoped.
“He’s cute. What’s his name?” Tina got down on her
knees and scratched behind Kane’s ears, burying her face in his
ruff. “Are you a good doggie?” she asked in a baby-talk voice. “Are
you a good boy?”
Kane growled and pulled out of her embrace. He
backed away a few steps and crouched, ears back, teeth bared,
looking ready to spring. I stepped between them.
“His name? Um, Killer. He’s not a pet.”
“A working dog, huh?” Tina sat back on her heels
and leaned to see around me, looking wistfully at Kane. “I used to
have a dog, when I lived with my family. Buddy. He was a crazy
hound dog, but a lot of fun to play with.” She climbed stiffly to
her feet. “One time, Buddy got hold of my little sister’s favorite
teddy bear, and—” She frowned, remembering she was mad at me. “I’ve
gotta go. Sorry, but I don’t have time to do you any favors right
now.” She headed toward the door.
“The favor isn’t for me, Tina. It’s for Mab.” As
soon as I said it, I bit my tongue. Mab’s brusqueness had
intimidated Tina when they’d met. Being alone with Mab was probably
the last thing Tina wanted.
She paused, one hand on the doorknob, and turned
around. “Your aunt?”
“Yes. She’s not well. I need someone to stay with
her while I . . . uh . . . while I take Killer for a walk.”
“Oh. Okay, I guess I can do that. I don’t really
have to go anywhere.” She headed toward the kitchen. “You got
anything to eat?”
“Whatever’s in there, it’s yours. I might be gone a
couple of hours, but Mab will probably sleep until I get
back.”
“A couple of hours? That’s a long walk. But I guess
a big dog like Killer needs lots of exercise.” She pulled open the
freezer. “Ooh, ice cream! Chocolate—is that all you’ve got? No mint
chocolate chip or butter pecan or anything?”
“Tina. Listen to me.” I took the ice cream carton
from her hands and set it on the counter, then closed the freezer
door. “This is important. Until I get back, don’t let anyone in the
apartment. I’ll tell Clyde, too.”
“Sure, okay. Nobody gets in.” She opened drawers
until she found a spoon. “Is your aunt, like, in danger or
something?” Her eyes widened. “Are there demons after her?”
If only you knew. “Not immediate danger. And
no, you won’t have to fight off any demons, so stay out of my
weapons cupboard.” I hoped the lock was strong enough to keep Tina
out if she got curious. “Like I said, my aunt isn’t feeling well. I
want to make sure she gets her rest.”
Tina nodded. I picked up the ice cream and handed
it to her.
“What did you do to your wrist?” she asked, looking
at the splint.
“I broke it in a fight with a vampire.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. You probably
slipped in the shower or something. You know,” she said over her
shoulder as she carried the ice cream into the living room, “you
don’t have to make up stuff to make your life seem more interesting
than it really is.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kane, waiting by the front door, bared his teeth
when he saw her.
Tina sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote. She
flipped to a talk show. Then she put her feet up on the coffee
table and pulled off the ice cream carton’s lid. “Killer wants ice
cream. I’d give him some—you know, to make friends—but chocolate is
bad for dogs.”
Kane growled deep in his throat. I had a feeling it
would be bad for Tina if I didn’t get him away from her.
“Thanks, Tina. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I
ran into Juliet’s room, grabbed one of her sweaters, and stuck it
in a plastic bag. Back in the living room, I pulled on my jacket.
“Come on, Killer.”
When I opened the door, Kane ran out into the
hallway and jumped up to press the elevator button. I hoped we’d
get him through the lobby without Clyde noticing. The thought made
me turn around.
“Tina, one more thing. Don’t tell anyone that
Killer’s staying with me, okay? We’re not supposed to have pets in
this building.”
She answered through a mouthful of chocolate.
“That’s two favors you owe me now. Don’t think I’m not
counting.”