Red-Line: The Shift (Volume One) (28 page)

“Just my opinion, but connecting with a Red-Line does not diminish the aging process.” She took a good look at him. “But it’s a hell of a weight-loss plan.”

He opened the mirror to look at himself and almost gasped. His head looked shrunken in size as his skin sank into the hollows of his cheeks. Like potato sacks, heavy bags under his eyes hung deeply over his cheekbones, and his eyelids were puffy with retained fluid. His frizzy hair stood on end, as if he’d been electrified, and most shockingly, his skin glowed a vivid pink.

“I guess I’m not ready for my Mr. Universe audition.”

Hannah kept a straight face. “No, I think the crispy look disqualifies you from competition.” She perused his features. “Actually, you’re looking better. Initially, you were fire-engine red.”

His eyes widened as he continued to stare at himself. “You’re not kidding about the Ramsey à la King.”

“It was either that, or refried Ramsey. Take your pick.”

“Okay, I’m getting the point. Things got a little dicey.”

Hannah glowered at him. “No more heroics, please. At least not for the next twenty-four hours, if you can help it. Between you and Leroy, my heart can’t take it.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Hopefully, no more will be required.”

As he stared at his reflection, he felt a strange tingle move through his fingers. Small cracks formed in the mirror, and the glass began to split and break, and tiny shards rained on the carpet.

He held the mirror away from him as the glass fell. “What the…?”

Hannah sighed. “Really, Sarah?” She called toward the bathroom. “Another one?” She bent over to pick up the glass from the floor. She looked up at Ramsey as she did so. “Your Red-Line is a bit destructive.”

“My…?” He ignored that comment. “Destructive?”

“Yes. That’s the third mirror she’s broken. Not to mention a vase and a couple of light bulbs. At this rate, the house won’t be standing much longer.”

“What do you mean? She’s breaking things?”

“Well, if you recall, she, or her energy or whatever it is, broke that bathroom mirror first.” She pointed to the room Sarah now occupied. “Well, not an hour after we got her back in the water, the mirror shattered in the second bathroom, the one across the house. That was a bit startling, especially since Declan was in it when it happened.” She giggled at the memory of that—Mr. Security Tough Guy letting out a little-girl shriek as the mirror shattered while he used the bathroom. She’d heard him from the kitchen as she got some breakfast. She was going to appreciate that one for a while.

“Then,” she continued, “as Leroy was using the phone in the front office, one of the few remaining unbroken vases shattered on the coffee table next to him.” She paused and thought for a second. “Oh, and as I sat outside on the porch to get a little fresh air and stretch my legs, both porch lights popped and broke.” She looked toward the empty frame of what had been her mirror. “And now this.” She waved her fingers toward the broken fragments. “She’s done it around all of us, and now you. Maybe it’s her way of saying ‘Hello.’”

Ramsey looked at the empty mirror in his hand and thought about what Hannah had told him. “Maybe,” he said absent-mindedly. He wondered if there were other reasons of importance to consider. “Are there any other mirrors in the house?”

Hannah knitted her brows. “What?” She thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.” He rubbed the shell of the cosmetic mirror in his hand.

“Great. That never ends well.” She watched him for a few seconds, as he seemed lost in thought. “Hey, how about you get some more sleep?”

He broke from his concentrated thought and looked over at her. “Where’s Leroy?”

She froze for a second, almost imperceptibly, but Ramsey still caught it. “He’s busy at the moment. You need to rest. You lay down, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

She started to rise, but Ramsey stopped her. “You’re the worst liar ever, Hannah.”

“I’m not lying. He is busy.”

“But you’re keeping something from me. What is it? Is he all right?”

“Yes. He and Declan are both fine. They’re just…in a meeting right now.”

“Meeting?” He gave her a strange look. “With who?”

She hesitated. “That’s not your worry. Right now, you need to rest.”

“With who, Hannah?’

She was torn. Leroy had given her specific instructions to keep Ramsey drugged if she had to, but to keep him out of the room with Morgana at all costs.

“Promise me you won’t go tearing out of here? You need to stay put.”

“What? The meeting is here? Right now?” He looked toward the bedroom door, which he then realized had been repaired, sloppily but well enough that it could reasonably shut out most noise.

Hannah ran her hand through her hair. “Shoot. I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re terrible. Who is it? Or should I venture a guess?” A sneaking suspicion about the identity of the mystery guest arose. There was only one person who would cause this much concern and upset, especially when it came to him.

When Hannah didn’t say anything, he started to rise, going slowly to keep his balance.

“Ramsey, don’t.”

“It’s Morgana, isn’t it? She’s here?”

Hannah paused, but she finally huffed and gave in. “There was a knock on the door about an hour ago. They’ve been out there ever since.”

He stood then, painfully but purposefully. “Then by all means, let’s join the party.”

“Ramsey, please. Let Leroy and Declan handle this. You’ll only lose your cool, and you need to conserve your strength right now.”

“Me, lose my cool?” He put on an innocent face but then stopped and reconsidered. “Okay. You may have a point, though I will make every effort to stay calm. But you know what I said about no more heroics? Well, I’m about to break that promise. This will take more heroics than anything I’ve done since we got here.”

“Well, you never actually promised.”

“Even better, then.”

“Just stay in here, Ramsey. You know she pushes your buttons. You won’t make it past five minutes, heroics or not. Please reconsider.”

“And let them have all the fun? Perish the thought.” He moved around the bed and headed for the door. He had to make the deliberate effort not to groan as he did so, or Hannah would be on him again. When he reached the door, he looked back at her. “Care to join me?”

She sighed with exasperation and put her hands on her hips. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough drama to last me a while. If she wants to speak to me, she’ll find me. Besides”—she looked toward the bathroom—“I’d rather stay and keep an eye on her.”

Ramsey followed her gaze and then looked back. “You need anything while I’m up?”

She made a half smile as she looked at him standing there with his crazy hair, sunken cheeks, and pink face, looking like he was about to fall over but convincing himself that he was hiding that from her. She almost envied seeing Morgana’s face when she laid eyes on him. Hannah stopped herself from laughing to keep his pride intact, but she knew he caught her amusement. “No, Ramsey, I’m good, but thanks.”

He nodded, turned, and pulled the door open with a yank, holding in a groan as he did so. He looked back at her as he left. “Wish me luck.”

“You’re going to need it. Don’t pass out while you’re out there. It won’t be good for your image.”

He smirked back at her. “Thanks for the advice.” With that, he headed out the door.

AS HE APPROACHED the living area, he could hear their voices. “She’s alive, isn’t she?” Morgana’s voice reached him first.

“Nevertheless, it was foolish.” Leroy responded with controlled anger in his voice. “He risked his life.”

“That’s his job,” Morgana shot back. “Her life before his, or any of yours, for that matter.”

“You didn’t give us that choice!” boomed Leroy. “You should have told us that going in. We should have known we were—”

“Expendable?” Ramsey broke in as he entered the room.

They all looked in his direction.

Leroy spoke first. “Sherlock? What the hell are you doing up?”

Ramsey made his way over the table to ensure that if his legs started to wobble, he would have something to grab onto. “You know I don’t like it when you keep me off the invite list,” he answered.

“That’s because you’re not invited. Pretty logical interpretation.” Leroy stared at him. “You look terrible.”

Ramsey glanced down at himself as if for the first time. “Damn, I was trying to impress our guest. Did I fail?”

“Most definitely,” spoke Declan next, gaping at his brother. “You look like the Heat Miser.”

Morgana said nothing, and her only movement was to cross her arms in front of her.

Ramsey paid no attention to her. “Hmm. I always liked that show,” he said, addressing Declan. “Fitting, since we seem to have the Snow Miser here with us as well.” With that, he finally looked at Morgana.

“Opposites attract,” she responded coolly.

“Unfortunately.” He looked around the room. “Anybody care to get me a chair before I pass out on Morgana here? I’d hate to wrinkle her pants.”

Leroy stood and grabbed a dining chair that had somehow moved to the office and brought it back for Ramsey, who was careful to convey as little weakness as possible as he sat down, even though he was weak as a kitten, and it showed.

Morgana ignored his physical state. “Since you’ve graced us with your presence, I assume you are capable of explaining a few things.”

“By all means,” he responded, resting his arms on the table. “What have you assumed we’ve done wrong?”

She stared him down. “Take your pick, Ramsey. This situation has been a fiasco from the beginning. She’s lucky to be alive. The minute you realized her life was in serious danger, she should have been brought in. We could have protected her. Instead, you risked her life because she tried to save all of you. She should—”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda…” Ramsey sat back slowly, trying to find a comfortable position. His eyes traveled to Declan and Leroy, both disengaged at this point, and then back at Morgana. He couldn’t muster the strength to be angry. “Seriously, Morgana, don’t you have something better to do than to show up here and berate us for handling a situation you never bothered to fully inform us about in the first place? And, what, we’re supposed to bring her to you? Forgive me if I’m slightly off mentally, but what the hell do you know about Red-Lines? There are two left. No, excuse me, one left, and he’s half-dead. And we are supposed to trust you? You can’t even protect your own.” He felt his anger percolate despite his exhaustion. “Do me a favor. Next time you ask me to protect a Red-Line and then draw other people into it, people I care about, how about you give me just the slightest amount of respect and tell me the truth. When you do that, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll trust you enough to ask for help. But until then, keep your yap shut about what you think we should have done, because I couldn’t give a flying rat’s ass about what you think.”

The room sat quiet as Ramsey’s words bounced around it. Morgana sat still, with her arms crossed, as Leroy stared at her and Declan hid a satisfied smile. Ramsey waited for the expected verbal assault. Strangely enough, though, Morgana continued to sit without responding.

“I have a question.” Leroy spoke, interrupting the quiet. Declan and Ramsey looked over at him, while Morgana only shifted her eyes in his direction. They waited as he thought about it and then asked, “Who the hell is the Heat Miser?”

Declan cocked his head at the unexpected question. “The Heat Miser? He’s the little fellow with the crazy hair and red face who controls the Earth’s heat.”

“No, no, no.” interrupted Ramsey. “He’s the guy who lives on the hot side of the Earth, and he wants to take over the cold side from the Snow Miser.”

“He doesn’t ‘live’ on the hot side of the Earth,” Declan argued. “He lives in a volcano, and he wants the planet to be hot, while the Snow Miser wants it to be cold.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” asked Ramsey. “And how do you know he lives in a volcano?”

“My superior memory, that’s how.”

“And this is a TV show?” asked Leroy.

“You never saw it?” asked Declan, surprised.

“We watched it during the holidays,” said Ramsey. “It’s animated.”

“Well, it’s not a cartoon…” Declan insisted.

“I didn’t say it was a cartoon,” Ramsey shot back.

“Well, you implied it.”

“Is that the show with the catchy tune?” asked Leroy.

“Yes, it is,” said Ramsey, looking at Declan. “How does it go, Mr. Superior Memory?”

Declan stared off, but then he began to sing. “I’m Mr. Green Christmas, I’m Mr. Sun…”

“That is enough about the Miser brothers!” Morgana’s voice projected vehemently through the room. Declan stopped singing.

Ramsey, satisfied that they’d irritated her, kept pushing. “That’s right,” he said, remembering. “They were brothers, weren’t they? Morgana, did you watch it, too?” Ramsey pitched his voice low to convey his feigned appreciation of Morgana’s TV knowledge.

Morgana stared at him with rising annoyance. “Enough, Ramsey. We can discuss our useless knowledge of TV’s holiday children’s programming another time. We have other pressing matters to deal with.”

“Then how about we start actually dealing with them instead of arguing about them? Insisting who’s right and wrong is getting us nowhere,” stated Leroy.

“Agreed,” offered Declan. “How about we discuss what to do next.”

Morgana chose not to argue. She sat stiffly in her chair and eyed Ramsey, who sat waiting and looking like a wilted tree. “Very well,” she said, pausing before her next sentence. “She needs to come back with me.”

Ramsey’s wilted look disappeared, and his expression radiated outrage. “The hell she is. She’s not going anywhere.”

“And just what do you think the three of you can do for her?” she asked. “Look at you. You can barely stand, and Larry and Curly over here don’t look much better.”

At the Three Stooges reference, Ramsey and Declan’s shifted their gaze toward each other, remembering how they’d used them with X and Z. It felt a little discomforting to hear it used in reference to themselves.