Faefever
Page 48“Stop, Ms. Lane.”
Voice again, but not the brick wall: rather a command that lifted the brick wall from me, freeing me. I sank to the floor, clutching the halves of my torn T-shirt together, and dropped my head in my lap, resting my forehead against my knees. I breathed deeply for several seconds, then raised my head and looked at him. He could have coerced me like that anytime. Turned me into a mindless slave. Like the Lord Master, he could have forced me to do his bidding whenever he’d wanted. But he hadn’t. The next time I discovered something horrifying about him, would I say, yeah, but he never coerced me with Voice? Would that be the excuse I made for him then?
“What are you?” It burst out before I could stop myself. I knew it was wasted breath. “Why don’t you just tell me and get it over with?” I said irritably.
“One day you’ll stop asking me. I think I’ll like knowing you then.”
“Can we leave my clothes out of the next lesson?” I groused. “I only packed for a few weeks.”
“You wanted morally objectionable.”
“Right.” I wasn’t sure his demonstration had served its purpose. I wasn’t sure taking my shirt off in front of him was.
“I was illustrating degrees, Ms. Lane. I believe the Lord Master has achieved the latter level of proficiency.”
“Great. Well, in the future spare my tees. I only have three. I’ve been washing them out by hand and the other two are dirty.” BB&B didn’t have a washer or dryer, and so far I’d been refusing to tote my stuff to the Laundromat a few blocks down, although soon I was going to have to, because jeans didn’t wash well by hand.
“Really? I can order a washer and dryer?”
“You may as well hold on to the keys to the Viper, too. I’m certain there are things you need a car for.”
I eyed him suspiciously. Had I lost another few months in Faery, and this was Christmas?
He bared his teeth in one of those predatory smiles. “Don’t think it’s because I like you. A happy employee is a productive employee, and the less time you waste going out to the Laundromat or . . . doing whatever errands it is . . . someone like you does . . . is more time I can use you for my own purposes.”
That made sense. Still, while it was Christmas, I had a few more items on my wish list. “I want a backup generator, and a security system. And I think I should have a gun, too.”
“Stand up.”
I had no will. My legs obeyed.
“Go change.”
“Stand on one leg and hop.”
“You suck,” I hissed, as I hopped.
“The key to resisting Voice,” Barrons instructed, “is finding that place inside you no one else can touch.”
“You mean the sidhe-seer place?” I said, hopping like a one-legged chicken.
“No, a different place. All people have it. Not just sidheseers. We’re born alone and we die alone. That place.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know. That’s why you’re hopping.”
I hopped for hours. I wearied, but he didn’t. I think Barrons could have used Voice all night, and never worn down.
I’d been hopping for so long that I actually took two hops toward my purse where I’d left it on the counter near the cash register, before I caught myself.
It was about to roll into my voice mail—a thing I’ve hated ever since I missed Alina’s call—so I thumbed it on inside my purse, tugged it out, and clamped it to my ear.
“Fourth and Langley,” Inspector Jayne barked.
I stiffened. I’d been expecting Dad, figuring he’d just forgotten to factor in the time difference. We alternated calling each other every other day, even if only for a few minutes, and I’d forgotten last night.
“It’s bad. Seven dead, and the shooter’s holed up in a pub, threatening to kill more hostages, and himself. Sound like the kind of crime you wanted me to tell you about?”
“Yes.” Himself, Jayne had said. The shooter was a man, which meant I’d missed whatever crime the woman who’d picked it up the night I’d been watching had committed, and the Book had already moved on. I wondered how many times it had changed hands since. I would search back issues of newspapers for clues. I needed all the information I could get, to try to understand the Dark Book, in hopes of anticipating its future moves.