Lasting Fury (Hexing House Book 2) (9 page)

Victor, who had had many an argument with Thea over the concept of
deserving
, snickered. “Show me an undeserving politician.”

Alecto nodded at him. “Pretty much that.”

Thea sighed. She didn’t have the energy to take up another fight anyway. “Fair enough, I guess.”

Holgersen called her that same night.

“If you want to know about the protest, I wasn’t allowed to go,” Thea said.

“I didn’t even know there was a protest,” said Holgersen. “Denise Forrester has agreed to meet with you, as long as I’m present and we’re in public. She seemed to think you have some way to appear human.”

“I do. Where and when?”

“You know the Fairview Diner off Route 63?”

“I can find it.”

“Brunch on Sunday, eleven o’clock.”

Thea arrived at the appointed time to find Holgersen and Dr. Forrester already seated. The doctor shrank back in the booth when she caught Thea’s eye.

Holgersen, on the other hand, didn’t even recognize Thea until she sat down. Then he stared at her for a solid thirty seconds, mouth slightly open, before Thea sighed and said, “No.”

“No?” Holgersen asked. “No what?”

“No, I was not on
Celebrity Dance-Off
. Is that what you were going to ask?”

He looked completely befuddled, but Dr. Forrester smiled and said, “You were Baird Frost’s girlfriend!”

“The
Benjamin Stake
guy?” Holgersen looked from Dr. Forrester to Thea.

“I didn’t realize,” Dr. Forrester said. “I never knew you as a human.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you,” Thea snapped.

“You’re quipping again,” said Holgersen. “It really doesn’t become you.”

“And you’re just trying to break the tension,” said Thea. She looked back at the doctor, who looked nervous again.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Dr. Forrester asked quietly. “That last day, when you got away?”

Thea shrugged. “It wasn’t necessary. Funny though, even though I
didn’t
kill you, when I very obviously
could have
killed you, you were awfully quick to accuse me of killing Boyd Lexington. And his family. And several of his neighbors. Despite the fact that I’d never even met the guy.”

“I saw the picture of you, holding Talbott,” Dr. Forrester said. “And you were…”

“I was…?” Thea prompted. She leaned forward to peer at—
into
—Dr. Forrester.

Shame. There might not be a murdered boy clinging to her back, but she’s wearing shame, almost as thick and heavy as Mr. Delacroix was.

“You feel
guilty
!” Thea said out loud. “It’s not that you think I’m so vengeful that I’d do something like that. It’s that you think I have a good reason to be.”

Dr. Forrester looked away. “You were my only involuntary patient,” she said finally.

A server came over with a coffee pot. After she took their orders and left, Holgersen said, “We may have gotten off on the wrong foot here. Rehashing the past isn’t going to help us. We’re all on the same side.”

“Are we?” Thea asked.

“Of course,” said Holgersen. “We’re all concerned about what happened at Hemlock Heights.”

“But we all want different things,” Thea said.

Holgersen raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“She just wants to protect herself,” Thea said with a nod at Dr. Forrester. “You want to know whether Seth Bates was hexed, right?”

“Among other things,” Holgersen agreed.

“So you’re worried that the hexing isn’t over yet.” Thea looked from him to the doctor. “I’m worried about when it began.”

Dr. Forrester frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“Boyd Lexington was showing symptoms of being under the influence of the superhex,” Thea said. “Long before Hemlock Heights.”

“What’s this?” Holgersen asked.

Thea told them about her visit with the Bowmans. “So what happened?” she asked Dr. Forrester when she was finished.

Dr. Forrester shrugged, but her eyes slid away from Thea’s. “They must have been continuing their experiments in the neighborhood. Probably without the residents’ knowledge.”

“Try again,” Thea said. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Dr. Forrester did meet Thea’s eyes then, and her own were flat. “Nothing. That’s the most obvious answer.”

Thea held her gaze, but she didn’t find any dishonesty. The shame was too strong to sense much else.

“But it’s not obvious at all,” said Thea. “The thing with the superhex is, it’s
super
. It’s not a subtle thing. If they were regularly using it on the people at Hemlock Heights, what happened there would have happened a long time ago.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the superhex they were experimenting with,” Holgersen said.

“Why would they need to experiment with just regular hexes?” Thea asked. “They already know pretty much everything there is to know about those. They’d have no reason to risk that.”

“I’ve done some checking around,” Holgersen said. “Sounds like most of the hexes you sell involve virtues. These people were manifesting sins, right?”

“Right, but that doesn’t mean hexes that inflict sin are some new experimental thing,” Thea said. “They’ve been around for probably hundreds of years. They’re just less commonly used.” She sighed and leaned back to sip her coffee. “As you can imagine, the consequences of a virtue hex are easier to contain to just the target.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry.” The server approached, talking to Dr. Forrester. “We’re out of the French toast. Would you like to order something else?”

Dr. Forrester blinked at her. “But it’s made of bread and eggs and milk. How can a diner be out of those things?”

“It’s a special brioche for the French toast,” the server said. “We’re out of it. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“So make it with regular bread. You have regular bread, right?”

Thea looked from the girl’s flustered face to Dr. Forrester’s hard one, and tried to read the doctor a third time.

The shame was gone now, which was in itself odd. The vices and virtues furies sensed in people weren’t usually passing moods.

Even odder, Thea couldn’t identify what had replaced it. It wasn’t one specific thing. More like a gathering cloud, one that was darkening and obscuring everything that was natural for the doctor.

“Ma’am, would you like to see the menu again?” The server was asking.

“Pancakes,” Dr. Forrester snapped.

The girl hurried away. Thea sniffed, loud enough for Holgersen to give her a curious look, but Thea ignored him. She’d always identified sins and virtues most easily through her sense of smell. But she couldn’t get anything from Dr. Forrester, except maybe a faint touch of ozone that she might only have imagined, an offshoot of the image of a cloud.

Storm coming?

Dr. Forrester realized Thea and Holgersen were looking at her and picked up her coffee with a shrug. “What?”

“Hope that bacon comes soon,” Holgersen said. “I always get cranky when I’m hungry.”

“Do you?” Dr. Forrester sounded bored.

“Okay, doctor,” said Thea. “Tell me about Boyd Lexington. Everything you can remember. Especially the circumstances of his leaving. Did he—”

She was interrupted by a bang and splash of hot coffee, as Dr. Forrester slammed her mug down on the table.

“Don’t you give me orders! Don’t you interrogate me!”

Holgersen touched the doctor’s arm. “I think she was just trying—”

“And don’t
you
defend her!” She flung the rest of her coffee onto his jacket.

Holgersen stared at Dr. Forrester in disbelief and confusion, but Thea didn’t have time for either. The ozone smell and that darkening cloud were all around her now—inside as well as out. Her own wrath swelled up in answer to Dr. Forrester’s, like a bird answering another’s cry.

Thea’s claws came out. And illusion or no illusion, in about five seconds she’d be across the table, slashing at the doctor.

She did the only thing she could do, really: she got up and fled.

Less than a week after her disastrous brunch with Dr. Forrester (the doctor had refused to see or speak with her again), Thea was crouched between the couch and the wall, underneath the living room window of one Marigold Marino.

The position allowed her to not only stay out of sight of anyone coming through the front door, but to avoid having to look at the multitude of posters and figurines of butterflies and winged horses that cluttered the place, which was decorated in colors normally reserved for Easter eggs and baby’s rooms.

It had been easy to get in; Marigold had left the window unlocked. That wouldn’t have been surprising for a normal human living on the fifth floor of an apartment building. But this one should have known better. She knew that some people could fly.

Then again, Thea didn’t expect Philip’s girlfriend to be terribly bright.

Elon’s reconnaissance mission had proved fruitful: he’d learned about the human girlfriend, and even managed to figure out a little about their routine. Now all Thea had to do was wait for Marigold and Philip to come back from their usual Friday night date. They went to dinner, maybe a movie or a concert—apparently human illusions didn’t require a business case and a project code to access at Fury Unlimited—then came back to Marigold’s place, where Philip stayed overnight and sometimes straight through until Sunday.

Didn’t Megaira get pissed, Elon had asked, if her assistant stayed away from the colony for such a long stretch?

No, Philip had assured him. At Fury Unlimited, you weren’t treated like a prisoner the way you were at Hexing House. As long as he kept his laptop with him in case Megaira needed something, he was free to spend his weekends wherever and however he liked.

Such a conscientious fellow.

Thea’s plan seemed fairly foolproof. If for some reason Philip didn’t have the computer, she would simply fly back out the window, and nobody would need to be the wiser until she tried again the following Friday. If he did have it, she would grab it while Philip and Marigold were busy in the bedroom, and be on her way.

It wasn’t exactly
instant
access to all of Fury Unlimited’s secrets, but Cora spending some quality time with Philip’s computer was the best shortcut they were likely to get.

Cora had asked Thea what she planned to do if Philip or Marigold caught her there.

“So much the better,” Thea had said. “I’ll beat all the passwords out of him. Make your job easier.”

But she’d been joking (mostly). She knew the best case was for her to get in and out quietly, without leaving any evidence behind. Philip would still suspect that someone from Hexing House was involved, but she didn’t want him to have proof. Especially not when Alecto didn’t know what Thea was up to.

So Thea stayed quiet as the door opened and closed, through the sounds of Marigold’s giggling, and what apparently passed for suave seduction in Philip’s mind. Thea could have sworn she could smell the gel in his hair, all the way across the room.

Unfortunately, that smell got a lot stronger when Philip sat down on the couch. Thea stilled, breathing as softly as she could, while Marigold served him a drink. Would he sense Thea, somehow, one fury to another? She didn’t think they had that power, but as she’d recently learned all too well, she didn’t know nearly as much about the creature she’d become as she should.

One drink turned into three, or maybe four. They turned on the TV, which allowed Thea to relax the slightest bit, and talked dirty, which she tried her best not to hear.

Eventually the noise of their chatter gave way to other, more repulsive sounds: sucking, licking. They’d been drinking for an hour or two by then, and it sounded sloppy. Thea stopped bothering to try to quiet the deep breathing necessary to settle her stomach, reasoning that it was less likely to be noticed than the sound of retching.

Finally, blessedly, they went into the bedroom.

Thea waited a reasonable amount of time, then crept out from behind the couch and scanned the room. There was Philip’s laptop bag, beside a duffel bag and his jacket, all piled up by the door.

Was it really going to be that easy? Not that listening to their foreplay had been a small price to pay.

Thea secured the shoulder strap across her body, then hesitated between the door and the window. Opening the window might make more noise than opening the door. But flying would be faster. Even if they heard her, she’d be gone before they got out of the bedroom.

She was two steps from the window when she heard Marigold scream.

That scream was followed by three more, each louder and more full of pain than the last.

And then, worse, the intensity dropped off, until all Thea could hear was whimpering punctuated by Philip’s low voice—his words were unintelligible, but he sounded calm—and the dull sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Shit.

Thea tried to tell herself she should just go. She didn’t know what was going on, or anything about their relationship. For all she knew, Marigold was into this kind of thing. And anyway, what were the chances Philip’s girlfriend was even a decent person?

You were Baird’s girlfriend.

Had anyone heard Thea’s screams, the night Baird had almost killed her?

Had anyone shrugged it off because hey, maybe they were just being kinky?

Or decided it was none of their business?

Or decided that a whore like Teddie Gideon wasn’t worth the trouble and risk of saving?

Shit.

Thea set down the laptop bag, and went into the bedroom.

Shit!

So much for being a superhero. Marigold, it seemed,
was
into this kind of thing.

She was on the bed, wearing something shiny and stringy. Philip was poised above her, completely naked except for his fury’s medallion and the other gold chains he wore. His human illusion was gone, and his wings were spread wide. He slapped at Marigold with them, and scratched her breasts with the talons. She cried and whimpered.

And smiled through swollen, bloody lips.

“More, Philip. Harder. I want to feel myself bleed.”

Shit.

This is what you get for trying to reclaim your humanity, or whatever soft-hearted crap you were trying to pull.

Okay, but they hadn’t seen her yet. If she was quiet, she could—

“Philip, there’s someone in here!”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Thea protracted her claws at the same time Philip whirled to face her. The shock left his face quickly, replaced by a slow smile as his own claws came out.

“Come to join in? Always knew you were a slut.”

Go. Run. Get what you came for and get out.

Thea jumped back out of the room and used a wing to slam the door behind her. There was nothing on hand to barricade it with, and she didn’t have time. But she was fast. Surely she’d be out the window before Philip could catch her.

She grabbed the laptop and half-ran, half-flew across the living room.

Marigold was screaming, not in pain or alarm anymore, but an aggressive, shrieking sound.

Another loud noise, a familiar boom that Thea was too panicked to consider or recognize. Something hit her shoulder.

Then Philip was there, grabbing her legs, tackling her to the floor.

Thea had gotten in a few fights since she’d transformed, but she had yet to fight a naked opponent. She didn’t care for what it added to the experience.

She cared even less for the source of that boom and the pain in her shoulder, which turned out to be the gun that Marigold was holding. Luckily, Marigold was drunk, slightly hysterical, and a very bad shot. The bullet had only grazed Thea, and a second missed her entirely.

Thea stabbed Philip in the face with one of her talons, kicked out of his grasp, and rolled away. On the bright side, judging by his reaction time, he was as drunk as his girlfriend.

But Thea was slowing down herself. Her shoulder was bleeding purple all over Marigold’s pink-beige carpet, and Philip had gashed her thigh badly enough to make movement with that leg difficult. Marigold was between her and the window, waving the gun and shouting.

Philip was coming at Thea again. Still naked. But now Thea smiled. She could use that, both to stop him and to move Marigold out of her way.

Philip lunged at her. Marigold had been threatening to shoot again, but squealed and froze, afraid, Thea supposed, of hitting her boyfriend.

Thea dove. Not for Philip or Marigold. Not for the laptop bag or the window. But for the coffee table, where Marigold had a heavy statue—pewter, Thea thought—of Pegasus.

Thea picked it up and, praying for some accuracy, hurled it square at Philip’s crotch.

He passed out a few seconds later. After that, subduing Marigold was easy.