Sacrificial Magic (16 page)

He gave her the barest possible nod, more of a twitch than an actual greeting. Oh, he was an asshole. And she was in just the kind of annoyed mood to want to provoke him.

“Mr. Li, how lovely to see you again.” She smiled her biggest, fakest smile and turned to face him, still holding her money in her hand.

He glanced at it, then up at the slot on the machine. “Miss Putnam.”

“I was wondering if you had some time to talk? I have some questions for you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t at the moment, no.”

“Are you sure? It’s really important.”

“No. I’m sorry, but I’m terribly busy.” Again his gaze traveled from the money to the machine, the machine to the money. Was he sweating? He certainly didn’t seem normal, but then how would she know? She had no idea what was normal for him.

But he did seem … He reminded her of a speedfreak riding a comedown: the darting eyes, the fidgeting—he flicked his fingers across the bills in his other hand over and over—the shifting of his weight from foot to foot
and the tightness of his pose, like he itched everywhere but couldn’t scratch.

She doubted he was actually a speedfreak. If he was, he wouldn’t be so husky. But something was obviously making him nervous, and it most likely had something to do with her.

“Oh? What are you doing?” Annoying people wasn’t something she usually got off on, but she had to admit it was kind of fun when the subject showed their irritation so obviously.

Not to mention when they were such pretentious, self-important pricks.

“I don’t feel comfortable discussing that, frankly.”

“Should I ask Monica what you’re doing?”

Another twitch. Hmm. What did that mean? “What? Why would you do that?”

She was quite thirsty, too, but this was too interesting to stop. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

“No, of course not.” His tone indicated that the very idea was ridiculous; he laced it with so much scorn it practically soaked her skin. Obviously fake.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I’m sure she’ll tell me what you’re doing. She has access to your schedule, right? She always knows where you are?”

“I’d really like to get my drink now.”

“Oh, of course.” Her first dollar slipped neatly into the slot. Next came the change. “Oops!”

Heh. While she pretended to hunt around on the floor for her quarter—it had fallen right by her foot—she got a good look at his expression—and the fact that beneath his cheap shiny trousers, his leg shook slightly. Interesting.

Just as he seemed ready to explode she “found” her change. “See? Here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from whatever you’re about to do. What is that again?”

“I have a meeting with some of the young men in my Outdoorsman group. We’re doing some volunteer work this weekend.”

The mention of volunteer work might have made Chess feel a little bit bad for dogging him like that, except she was fairly certain he was one of those people who volunteered so people would think he was wonderful and charitable and all that shit, rather than out of a genuine desire to help others.

All of those fucking goody-two-shoes “I care so much” people were such liars. They’d certainly never cared about
her
.

Thinking of it made her stab the button on the machine hard enough to cause pain. “What kind of volunteer work?”

Their eyes met. She let every bit of I-can-stand-here-all-day show in hers, every bit of semi-bored amusement. Hey, her pills were starting to work; that slow, smooth warmth spreading from her stomach outward. She really could stand there all day. She could do anything she wanted, at least at that particular moment.

His eyes widened, then focused down. “We’re helping to clean and repaint an abandoned building to turn into a community center.”

“Oh? Where?”

He raised his wrist practically to his nose to check his watch, peered at her over the top of it. Yeah. His time was so important blah blah blah. She didn’t move. Didn’t change expression.

“It’s two blocks from here. Twentieth and Grant.”

She stepped aside so he could get his Coke. “And that’s when?”

“Saturday.”

It didn’t surprise her. But she let a hint of that emotion slip into her voice anyway. “On Holy Day? Don’t
you think those boys would be better served by going to Church?”

His Coke tumbled into the bin at the bottom of the machine with a clunk. “I think they’re better served doing something for their own community, instead of one that tries to alienate them from it.”

When he bent down to retrieve the can she had to fight the urge to plant her shoe right into his saggy ass. Sure, Mr. Li was entitled to feel however he wanted to. And she’d told herself before she walked into Mercy Lewis for the first time that she wouldn’t start any trouble over the Church. But she couldn’t help herself.

“I’d think you’d want them at Church, because you want a better future for them.”

“I think their future is with their people.”

“I think you’re not giving them a choice.”

He glared at her. “May I go now?”

“Who’s stopping you?”

He gave her one last glare while he clutched his Coke like a scepter, then started to push past her. She stepped out of his way. Even if he didn’t repulse her physically—which he did—some vague part of her mind was convinced he would rub asshole all over her.

He left the Administration area; if he was aware of her narrow-eyed stare at his back he didn’t show it. Shithead. And a shithead she couldn’t do anything to or argue with any more vehemently than she just had, at least not until this case was tied up. When that happened, though …

The Coke helped with her cottonmouth, but unfortunately it didn’t make any clues or information suddenly appear. Pity. The walk back to the temporary office felt a bit like walking into a trap; she wouldn’t be able to get out of this case, and she wasn’t learning anything, and while she hated to admit it, she was a little freaked out when she started thinking about it. Teams of ghosts
working together to bring down catwalks and trap her inside trunks—though, granted, she didn’t know for sure that either of those had actually been ghosts, and she sure as hell hoped they hadn’t been—and grumpy “community leaders” and sullen kids …

It felt like living her school years all over again. Except this time she couldn’t just skip out and talk back, because she actually needed these shitty people to give her information.

She loved her job. Just not right then.

Standing around the school looking at nonexistent files wasn’t going to help, either. She’d head to the Church, do some research, maybe come back later. That might help. In fact, there
was
something that would make her feel better. She closed the office door and hit a button on her phone. He answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Chess. You right?”

See? Just hearing him speak, low and gravelly and so fucking sexy, made her smile, despite that mean little voice in her chest telling her not to get too comfortable.

She ignored that voice. But she paid attention to the one telling her not to sound too needy. “Yeah, I just— What are you doing later?”

“Takin you to bed.”

It took her a second to reply; she was too busy reminding herself to breathe. “You think so, huh?”

“Aye.”

She gave a big fake sigh. “I suppose I can make time for that.”

His short laugh made her smile widen even more. “Where you at? Church or you place?”

“I’m still at the school, actually; I’m just about to leave. But I thought I’d come back tonight. I want to look at some other stuff. Want to come with me?”

“Aye.”

“Okay, good.” Sure enough, the knot in her chest had
eased. It was amazing how that worked. “I’m heading for Church now, so I’ll probably be home in a couple of hours. Are you okay? What are you doing?”

Pause. “Later on that, aye?”

Please let that mean he’d found something. Maybe something that would keep her from having to spend too much time chasing down Bag-end Eddie’s killer. She’d managed to almost forget about that, what with being trapped and being sick and being annoyed. Lucky her. Sort of.

“No problem,” she said. “I’ll see you in a few hours, then, okay? Just come over when you’re done.”

He agreed and hung up, leaving her feeling better for having talked to him and worse for being reminded of her new ritual-murdering friend.

Better or worse, though, time to finally leave the teenage prison and actually learn something at Church. She slung her bag back onto her shoulder, switched off the lights in the office, and headed out into the hall.

Only to practically run headfirst into Jia Zhang.

Fuck. Just the person she wanted to see—well, one of them anyway—at just the time when she least wanted to see her. Despite the steady soothe of her pills, she itched to escape. The building itself, with its smells of chalk and cafeteria food and crushed hopes and misery, made her skin crawl. Being there was like being inside the belly of some hideous beast digesting her bit by slow bit.

Jia’s shiny face flushed as she picked up her books. “Ain’t you got the lookin where you walk?”

Yes, it was just like being back in school. “Let me help you.”

“Nay! Ain’t needin the help.” Jia snatched the book Chess had been about to pick up and clutched it to her chest, but not before Chess saw the title. Not before Chess realized that her desire to talk to the girl had been spot-on.

Being right was some comfort, but not much. Especially not when the girl had somehow gotten hold of a copy of the
Vocaran Phasmaterius
.

The guide for ghost summoners.

“Hey, what—”

Jia punched her. Hard. Chess’s left eye exploded in pain; she stumbled back, tears running down her cheek to blur her vision, agony radiating dark blue around her head while red spots flashed before her eyes. “What the fuck—”

Footsteps loud on the tile and the horrible sharp squeal of the door. Jia was running away, running outside. Chess could see her just fine if she closed her left eye.

Which she did. Chasing the girl probably wasn’t the best idea, all things considered. It sure wouldn’t endear her further to anyone at Mercy Lewis. But the little bitch had punched her. Case or no case, her snippy ass was hitting the ground.

The door had almost closed again when Chess hit it, dangling her bag by the strap like a sock-and-lock. She’d use it that way, too, if she had to. Her eye screamed at her and felt like it was about to fall out of her skull.

Through her good right eye she caught sight of Jia running across the field behind the school. Shit. If she made it to one of those streets back there, she was gone. No way could Chess catch her in that neighborhood. Hell, almost no way Chess could expect to walk out of that neighborhood alive and intact.

All the more reason to haul as much ass as she could. Damn it, on top of everything else this was wasting her high; all that adrenaline would totally fuck with it. Jia had more than just a punch to answer for, even if Chess couldn’t tell her that.

Her throat burned from sucking the cool dry air hard and fast into her tight lungs. Her suddenly too-small
lungs; maybe her heart was pounding so hard it had squeezed them almost shut.

But she was gaining on Jia. The girl was hindered by carrying a stack of books—one book in particular, of course. And Chess was taller by a few inches.

Jia’s back grew larger and larger, she was close, she was almost there, she—

One last desperate leap forward. Her chest slammed into Jia’s back, knocked her down; Jia’s weight crushed Chess’s arms into the dead grass, and a cloud of musty-smelling dust rose to sting Chess’s eyes further, to tickle her nose.

“Lemme go! Lemme the fuck go, you ain’t got—”

“Shut up.” Those lessons Terrible had given her came in handy at the oddest times, didn’t they? She pressed her palms down on Jia’s upper arms, shifted position so she straddled the small of Jia’s back.

Doing this to a kid—no matter what that kid had done to her—didn’t feel good, but what the hell else was she supposed to do? She needed to know where that book came from.

“Give me the book, Jia.”

“Ainno what you talking—”

“Give me the book or I’ll call the Squad, and you can spend a couple days in the stocks for assaulting a Church employee.” She really didn’t want to do that, damn it. Bad enough to tackle the girl; a crowd of interested onlookers had already gathered, far enough away that they couldn’t hear what was being said, but close enough to see what happened, that was for damn sure.

“Go ’head, I ain’t ascared of—”

An idea. A sleazy idea, but an idea nonetheless, and what choice did she have? “Give me the book or I call Lex and tell him you refuse to help. How does that sound?”

Silence. Fuck yeah, she had her. “Hand it over, Jia.”

She lessened the pressure on Jia’s back just enough for the girl to get her arm out from beneath her and give Chess the slim purple volume.

Chess took it. Energy slunk up her arm. Not strong—whoever had owned this book, whoever had used it enough to put their energy into it, hadn’t been very powerful. Chess didn’t even think the owner had been a witch.

But the book definitely had energy. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it.”

Should she threaten her again? Threatening the girl felt so gross, despite the throbbing ache in her eye and the complete disappearance of her buzz. Fuck. Punishing Jia wasn’t the problem. Threatening her with Lex was the problem; that was the gross part. “Where did you find it.”

“Ainno.”

Damn it. Chess opened her mouth, to ask again or to come up with a different tack, but the front cover of the book fell open, and she saw the name written on the inside of the cover in fading blue ink.

Chelsea Mueller
.