Women of the Otherworld 09.5 - Angelic (5 page)

“—bunch of stupid bitches—”

“Savannah, please,” a familiar husky voice answered. “I know you’re upset, but talking like that—”

“I’ll talk any way I damn well want. You aren’t my mother, Paige.”

I followed the voices to see Paige’s old living room.
Her house in East Falls, seven years ago.
Savannah was there, thirteen again, pacing the floor. Paige sat across the room. She leaned back in her chair, long curls spilling over the top as she stared at the ceiling as if praying for guidance.

God, Paige looked young. I’d forgotten how young she’d been.

Twenty-two when you got yourself killed and dumped your daughter in her lap.

“You think my language is bad?” Savannah said. “You should have heard what they called my mom.
Stupid little Coven bitches.
My mom was smart. She left.”

“You need to ignore what they say about her, Savannah. Don’t pay any attention—”

“Just
let
them say those things? You’re as bad as they are, Paige.
As stupid, too.
I hate them and I hate you!”

Savannah stormed off, smacking the wall as she went. A piece of molding popped free. Paige slowly got up and tried pushing the molding back into place, hands shaking, blinking back tears, muttering under her breath.

Cursing you, Eve.
You know she was. Tell her not to bother fixing that—her house is going to burn down in a few months. That’s what she got for taking in your kid. It destroyed her house, destroyed her reputation,
destroyed
her life. But at least Savannah didn’t need to worry about the Coven after they kicked Paige out for keeping her.

“I screwed up, okay? You think I don’t know that?”

I tramped down the hall.

“You killed her!” Savannah’s shriek echoed through the house. “You promised Paige would be safe and you killed her!”

I broke into a run. This time I almost passed the room, stopping only when I heard her scream again. I wheeled and saw a furnace. Savannah kneeled on the other side of it, facing the wall, sobbing.

I looked at that room and my gut went cold.

“No,” I whispered. “Not this. Come on. Don’t—”

“I’m right here, Savannah,” Paige’s voice drifted from behind the furnace. “Nobody killed me.”

“Oh, thank God.” Another voice I knew so well.
Kristof’s.
“See, sweetheart? Paige is fine.”

“You killed her!” Savannah screamed. “You killed her! You promised! You promised and you lied!”

Savannah’s head dropped forward, tears streaming as she sobbed. Kristof stepped forward, arms opening to embrace her. Paige yelled for him to stop. He didn’t.

Savannah turned fast, hands shooting up. Kristof sailed off his feet. His head hit the concrete wall with a horrible crack. His eyes went wide. Then they closed. And he slumped to the floor. Paige ran over to check for a pulse.

There wouldn’t be one.

She was calling for you
, the voice whispered.
Before he came.
Screaming for you.
But you didn’t come. And he did. Do you really think she doesn’t know what happened? Doesn’t know she killed her father? She knows, Eve. She knows.

If you’d told Savannah about Kristof…
If you’d let her know he was a good man, let her know you loved him, none of this—

“Do you think I don’t know that?” I snarled. “I know every fucking mistake I made in my life and I don’t need to be reminded.”

How many people did you kill, Eve? Not just tangentially, like Kristof. But actually sent to the afterlife
yourself
.

“Oh, no.”
I gave a harsh laugh. “Now you’re getting desperate.
That
I don’t regret. I never killed anyone that wasn’t just as big a threat to me and wouldn’t have done the same right back. I don’t feel any guilt over them.”

“No?” said a young voice behind me. “What about me? Do you feel guilty about me?”

I turned to see a boy of about ten. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Terri Blake’s son. My mom double-crossed you. You killed her. Do you know what happened to me?” He met my gaze. “Do you care?”

“Look, I—”

“What about me?” A woman stepped from another doorway.
“John Salton’s wife.
Widow, I should say, though I never realized that. I thought he’d left me, me and the kids. Did a good job of hiding his body, didn’t you?”

“He’d have done—”

“The same to you,” the boy and the woman chanted in unison, their voices joined by others, more people stepping from doorways, the endless hallway filling.
“Had to kill them.
Didn’t have a choice.
Kill or be killed.
The law of the jungle.”

John Salton’s widow leapt at me, teeth bared. “Welcome to the jungle, Eve.”

Eight

I don’t know how long I spent in that hell, tormented by the ghosts of those I’d wronged. I didn’t curl up and take it. I defended myself—verbally, physically, whatever it took. When that didn’t stop it, I walked away, only to step into another scene from
This is Your Life
.

I fought. I resisted. I raged. But eventually the djinn won. And I don’t remember anything after that.

Nine

The next thing I heard was a voice whispering, “Shhh, shhh,
it’s
okay,” as a hand stroked my head. I opened my eyes. I was in one of those empty rooms, curled up on the floor, my head cradled on a lap.

I twisted to see Kristof.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said.

I stared at him. Then I blinked and pulled away. “It’s not really you.”

“No?”

“Prove it.”

He paused, considering, then said, “And how would I do that?”

I sat up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the usual way would be for me to tell you something only I know, which would work if you suspected I’m an imposter. But if, as it seems, you’ve been hallucinating, then I could be a product of your imagination, meaning I’ll say whatever you want me to say, which doesn’t prove anything at all. On the other hand—”

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him.

“Proof enough?” he said.

“It is.” I pulled back. “How did you get here? Wherever here is…” I looked around.

“Tangiers, it seems.”

“No. I
was
in Tangiers, and then… You said I was hallucinating. I’m still in Tangiers, aren’t I?”

“Apparently.
You’re trapped in some sort of mental construct. A typical djinn trick.”

“Which I’d know if I’d done my research.
But how’d you find me?”

“You called, I came. As for how I got here, as you know, I’m a master of teleportation.”

I laughed and settled in, hugging my knees to my chest. “Like the time you tried taking me to the beach and ended up in the Sahara?”

“It had sand. I only
appear
to have trouble teleporting because I need to conserve my powers to properly fulfill my role as the hero’s wise and nurturing girlfriend.”

I sputtered a laugh.

He continued. “Every hero needs a sidekick. I’m the wise and nurturing girlfriend, who sits on the sidelines, counseling him to make better choices, and picking him up when he invariably ignores her advice and falls.”

“Ah, but if you were a real hero’s girlfriend, you’d be the one needing rescue.”

“True.” He sighed and stretched his legs. “It’s the one part of the role I’m finding difficult to fulfill. But I’m working on it.”

“Are you working on the
girl
part, too?”

He arched his brows. “Do you want me to?”

“Never.”

We sat in silence for a moment. My hands started shaking again, and I shoved them into my pockets.

“I screwed up, Kris.
Big surprise, huh?
You tried to slow me down and I ignored you, and only made things worse. But you won’t even say, ‘I told you so.’”

“You beat yourself up enough, Eve. You don’t need anyone else doing it for you.” He pulled me onto his lap. “We can fix this. Just tell me what happened.”

“I—” I glanced around and shivered. “I will. Just— I want to get out of here and clear my head first.”

“A distraction?
Now that is definitely one of my sidekick specialties.”

He murmured a teleport spell. The house evaporated and I dropped a foot onto a soft mattress. I looked around to see Kris’s houseboat.

“Nice aim,” I said.

“Did I mention those expert teleportation skills?”

“I believe you did.
And those expert distraction skills?”

“Coming right up,” he said, his mouth lowering to mine.

Ten

A half hour later, I was telling Kris everything. I was still in bed, covers entwined around me, talking as I watched him fix me a snack. Ghosts don’t need food any more than they need sleep or sex, but an afterlife without passionate nights, lazy mornings and breakfasts in bed isn’t the kind of eternity I want.

Ghosts do the things they enjoyed in life, necessary or not, and for Kris, one of those things was cooking. His ex-wife took off when their boys were little more than toddlers, and he’d been determined that they’d never suffer the lack of anything for it.
Including homemade meals.

Today he was keeping things simple. When he brought over my tray, it held a glass of milk and a peanut-butter-and-jam sandwich.
My ultimate comfort food.

“You really do this nurturing thing well, you know,” I said as I took a sandwich quarter.

“It’s a front. Underneath, I’m a cold, ruthless bastard.” He sat on the end of the bed and pulled my legs over his lap. “So you think this Armaros is behind the coup?”

“Of course.
What else—?” I caught his expression. “I’m missing another possibility, aren’t I?”

“You could be.
Dantalian perhaps?”

“Overthrowing
himself
? That makes no sense. Why would he stage—? Wait.
Key word there?
Stage.
You think it’s a setup. If the djinn cause enough trouble, the easiest way to subdue them would be to grant Dantalian early parole. And the last thing he’d want is me poking around. So he sent that coded message telling Armaros to distract me.
That double-crossing son-of-a-bitch.
I’m going to—”

Kristof didn’t cut me off. He didn’t need to. I might not be Ph.D. material, but I am occasionally capable of learning.

“That’s exactly the attitude that got me into this mess in the first place, isn’t it?” I said. “Dantalian will only deny it, so I’m wasting my time, which is better spent stopping Armaros and his djinn before they do more damage. Then I can deal with Dantalian.” I glanced at him.
“Right?”

He smiled.
“Right.”

* * * *