The Undead Pool
Page 48

Pixies, friends, almost lovers, I mused, wondering if it would all amount to anything other than a good story. My head hurt. I needed a cup of coffee.
Lovers? a returning mystic asked, and it was swamped by the new debate over the different we’s they had found.
The coffee smelled wonderful, and as it went chattering into a mug, I gave the mystics a memory of Kisten, the way he’d touched me, the way I’d felt, the emotions I could pull from him, the desire. Ivy looked up, the rim of brown about her eyes shrinking, and I shrugged. Shaking her head, she went back to her computer. The mystics were even more confused.
“It means nothing,” I breathed as I sat at my usual spot, the cup of coffee warm in my hand.
Jenks was taking me talking to myself in stride, the visual clue of my aura flaring making it obvious I wasn’t alone in my skull, but David and Ivy exchanged worried looks. I didn’t care as I took another sip, eyes closing as it warmed me from the inside out and woke me up. I felt lost, even as the mystics gave me a sensation of the space around me as they darted through the room and garden like pixy kids coming back to me with their visions. The idea of David crossing the room lifted through me, and I started, eyelids flying open when I heard a chair being pulled out and I saw him in my mind as he sat down.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, and I turned, seeing him exactly where I knew he’d be.
This can’t be safe, I mused, hiding my concern behind another sip of coffee. If the mystics didn’t drive me insane, or the Goddess didn’t kill me for polluting them with my “singular visions,” Newt would, just for the crime of harboring elven wild magic. Al would beat them out of me or kill me trying. And Dali would sell tickets. I was on my own.
But as a handful of mystics flowed back to me with the idea that a woman was entering the back door, I set the cup down and smiled. I was on my own—with a lot of help. All I had to do was learn how to use it.
Jenks rose up in a wing-clattering alarm as the woman I’d seen in my thoughts appeared in the doorway, her Were-soft steps silent on both the steps and in the hallway. “Holy mother of toad piss!” he exclaimed. “Give a pixy a little warning, huh?”
I didn’t know her, but clearly everyone else did, and I couldn’t help but notice David’s eyes light up. “David,” she said flicking a glance at me that was neither subservient nor challenging, and I warmed when it lingered on my hair, frizzy and full—like a red wolf’s mane. “I know the meeting is about to start, but that issue with the Black Sands has come to a head. You want me to facilitate an alliance while it might be still effective?”
David set his coffee down and stood. “Yes. Megan, come in and meet Rachel now that she’s not delirious with magic.”
Smiling, he gestured for her, and she eagerly strode into the kitchen. “It’s a pleasure,” she said, hand extended. “I saw you last night, but I was on paws and you were a little out of it.”
She was wearing my pack tattoo, and I stood, feeling a flash of guilt the mystics buzzed over until I told them it was a task I’d failed to give the proper attention to. “I’m sorry,” I said, taking her hand firmly. “I really should know everyone in the pack. I’ve been . . .” My words trailed off. Preoccupied didn’t seem to cut it, but it was hard to be involved in mundane matters when the world needed saving every three months.
Megan let go of my hand, her smile widening. “I meant to get to that last pack meeting you were at, but my youngest was graduating from kindergarten. We’ve both been busy,” she said, not a hint of recrimination in her voice. “In times of unease, alphas range far afield to shake danger to death. The pack is content. If it wasn’t, I’d pin someone.”
Pride crossed her, and I liked seeing it there. She was a good woman, and a second flash of guilt flickered and died. The mystics currently within me pondered my immediate trust. Some liked her, others didn’t, and a tiny, almost unheard faction shouted it was dangerous to like everyone just because they wore no cap.
I blinked, and David fidgeted as both he and Megan realized that I wasn’t quite with them at the moment, but I think the mystics had made a joke. Oh God, the Goddess wasn’t going to be happy. Humor?
Megan got an awestruck look, backing up a step. “When you get a moment,” she said, eyes flicking between us, “there’s a few things you need to know about. Nothing pressing.”
David nodded, and I shoved the voices away. “You’ve got me all afternoon.”
“It was good to meet you,” Megan said, and I winced, realizing just how badly I was serving my pack. Sure, I was busy with other stuff that mattered, but that was no excuse. David needed a real alpha to help him. It had never been meant to be anything but us two, but now it was more, and I needed to let go.
“You’re not staying?” I asked, and she halted, clearly uncomfortable when David winced. “I wish you would,” I added, ignoring him. “Unless there’s something you need to do.”
Her eyes lit up. “No, I’ll stay.”
Her head a little higher, her hips swaying a fraction more, she headed for a cup of coffee. Ivy snickered from her computer, and I went to David to explain. “I thought you’d rub each other wrong,” he whispered. “She has the bearing of an alpha.”
Which was why he was attracted to her, I decided, inching closer yet, glad when a flicker of irritation crossed Megan’s face, quickly squelched. “David, I’m not a Were,” I said quietly to him, and his eyes flicked from her to me. “She’s a capable woman, and I like seeing capable women doing important things. Besides, if she’s doing my job, she ought to be able to have the same info you’re getting.”
He thought that over, the first hints of regret in the back of his eyes. The pixy kids trying to stay out of sight in the hanging rack flew out without warning, and from the front of the church came a familiar hail. “ ’Scuse me,” Jenks said, following his kids. It was Edden, and I ignored David’s denial that nothing was happening between him and Megan as I looked for somewhere to go with my cup of coffee. It was going to get crowded in here, and I already felt cramped, what with the mystics and all.
“David. Ivy.” Looking tired, Edden strode in with a wreath of pixy kids and headed immediately for the coffee. “Rachel,” he said as he poured it in a mug with rainbows. “I like your hair like that,” he said, making me touch it. “Where’s Kalamack? Shouldn’t he be here?”
Yeah, I kind of thought the same thing, but it got noisy as Megan was introduced and I was hesitant to bring it up. Setting my drink aside, I went to open the window. Al’s chrysalis was still safe under its overturned water glass, and I wavered on my feet when every single mystic in me left to look at Trent’s pinkie ring, trying to figure out how something solid could cause so much emotion.
Jenks was a sparkle at my shoulder. “You need to sit down, Rache?” he asked, and I shook my head, hesitated, then nodded, leaning back against the counter and levering myself up. I felt like a kid as I scooted back with my coffee until I hit the cupboards. Edden looked tired, which made me think I must look like hell if we were doing this in my church instead of the FIB building.
Trent helped Edden find me, but he didn’t bother to come out himself, I thought with a flash of disappointment. And that’s a good thing, I added bitterly. Trent was finally seeing how his actions impacted his daughters and his . . . fiancée.
Oh God, I’d actually thought the word, and I tried to find a pleasant expression as the introductions finished.
“So!” Edden said loudly. “I’ve got two more of these things this morning. Let’s get a move on. Who’s going to run it?”
Silence deep enough to bring the mystics to a quiet descended, and I realized everyone was looking at me. “Ah . . .” I hedged, and Ivy sighed, a new spate of typing taking over.
David looked at her screen, then moved to the doorway, effectively bringing all attention to him. “I’ll start since most of you already know what I have to say,” he said. “The threefold increase in wave action we’ve seen hasn’t caused an increase in misfires simply because people aren’t doing magic. Unfortunately the I.S.’s claims that the vampire violence has dropped as well is not true. What’s happened is that it’s shifted focus from vampire/human predation to vampire/vampire stalkings and attacks. As Edden feared, Landon’s idea to blame the Free Vampires has started a schism that is being fought out on the street. The inability to use magic is making it harder to cap the violence. Either Ayer and Landon are getting ready to move as Rachel said”—David lifted his mug to acknowledge me—“or the Goddess is being more aggressive in her search for her missing, ah, mystics and Ayer is capitalizing on it. None of the waves are making it out of Cincinnati.”
My eyes widened, and the influx of mystic thoughts took on an ominous feeling. “Can’t you track them?” I asked. “Find them like you did before?”
Expression solemn, David shook his head. “We can, but the waves quit vanishing early this morning. They’re circling.”
“Cincinnati?” I blurted. Crap on toast, Ayer had all he needed. He wasn’t drawing them out anymore—which meant the Goddess was looking for her lost thoughts. Looking for me.
“It’s anyone’s guess how long we have until they try to break the containment lines,” David finished, and I stifled a shiver, pulling my knees up to my chin, heels on the counter.
Edden scooted his chair a little deeper into the room, arms crossed over his wide chest. “I’ve got some good news, bad news,” he said. “I don’t know how useful it is, but the Free Vampires who gave themselves up last night told us why the masters are sleeping. The high concentrations of mystics in the area are giving the effect of a soul or aura on the undead, which lowers their appetite. They sleep when their true aura levels drop below a threshold. As long as there’re captive mystics anywhere in the city, the undead will not wake up.”
And with the city closed, they couldn’t evacuate the sleeping masters.
“They also confirmed that Landon gave them information and the technology to do this. Rachel, I’m sorry, but the elves are involved. We know for sure now.”
My frown deepened. “Trent wouldn’t do this,” I said, and David shifted from foot to foot.
“Rachel, I know how you feel about Trent—”
“I’m telling you, he wouldn’t sanction anything that resulted in the death of an entire demographic!” I said loudly, then calmed down before I accidentally blew something up. Damn it all to hell, he wouldn’t! Not now. I had to believe that. I did.
“And you’d be right,” came Trent’s voice from Ivy’s laptop, and my head snapped up.
Trent? About a dozen mystics dropped their discussion of the reflective surface of copper pots as a thread of adrenaline pulled through me, and my eyes widened when Ivy spun her monitor to face the room. It was Trent. On the screen. Cool.
Ivy frowned at her computer. “About time,” she muttered.
“Sorry for being late,” Trent said, the picture jerky but riveting. “The software wouldn’t load. Rachel is right. I haven’t heard of any such action being put into place, but I seem to have lost most of my voice in the enclave and I never had it in the dewar.”
He looked tired. Behind him, colorful fish swam in a smaller tank. “Can he see us?” I asked, freezing when Trent seemed to look right at me.
“Yes. I’m glad to see you’re recovered, Rachel.”
His attention was on my hair, and I fumbled for something that wouldn’t sound dumb—or interested in the slightest. Singular, echoed in my head, and I clamped a hand over my mouth before I could say it, warming as mystics began arguing over the logic. He was clearly not made of mass, how could he be singular, even if he acted singular. Everyone else was staring as if I had lobsters coming out of my ears, Trent most of all, and I forced my hand down.
“What have I missed?” he said, a slight red along the rims of his pointy ears.
“Nothing you’ve not heard before,” Jenks said, shooed from the monitor when his dust blanked it out.
But Trent hadn’t known about Landon, and I breathed easier as everyone backed off, accepting that as truth until he proved it false. Which he wouldn’t. Looking back over the last three days, the conversations between Trent and Landon were making a lot more sense. It had felt wrong that Trent had lost his voice for something as stupid as not marrying Ellasbeth, when he was in fact being cut out because the powers that be knew he would’ve been able to turn the tide of events to a vote of no-action. The dewar had used our relationship to force him out, and we’d played right along with it until it was too late. God, it was irritating.
Edden cleared his throat. “Trent, Edden here,” he said since he was probably out of sight of whatever camera was transmitting. “Ivy, are you sure we can’t wake the undead? If it’s the mystics, maybe a special room or something?”
“No,” she said, her voice thick with worry. “There’s not enough time. I’ve been in contact with several houses and they tell me they think their masters have less than twenty-four hours before they begin to die of aura starvation. They’re showing the first signs.” Her jaw clenched, and I remembered her mother was among the undead. “We need to evacuate them.”
“They won’t let me. They’re worried about contamination,” Edden said, and Ivy bristled.