Grave Dance
Page 25“You probably need to find a way to fix that,” Tamara said, pointing to the far wall of the room.
I twisted to see what she meant and the blood drained from my face. In the air where we’d fought the ravens, small, pinprick-sized wisps of Aetheric energy twisted.
I’d ripped holes in reality. Again.
Chapter 14
There were seven small holes—not nearly as many as spelled disks, so apparently only the ravens I’d destroyed had caused tears. I couldn’t close the rips in reality, so Caleb worked on glamouring over the holes while we waited for the police to arrive. My friends shot curious gazes my way, but none demanded an explanation. Yet.
I excused myself, gathered PC and my purse from the guest room, and then retreated to the stairs so I could dress before the cops arrived. I grabbed one of the charmed disks before I left. I had no doubt the police had their very best people working to unravel the spells on the disk, but the feet, the constructs, and the spells on my friends were linked, and once the police confiscated everything, I wouldn’t get another look at the disks. I needed a lead in this case. Now more than ever. Dropping the disk in my purse, I took the steps two at a time. It wasn’t until I’d reached the top and my free hand was hovering over the doorknob that I remembered my apartment wouldn’t be empty.
Falin is on the other side of this door. And aside from when he’d been unconscious and when we’d fought side by side against the ravens, I hadn’t seen him in a month. Now I couldn’t decide if the prospect of being alone with him excited, terrified, or agitated me, but my fingers shook as I grabbed for the doorknob. Get hold of yourself, Alex. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open, not sure what I would find.
Not finding anything wasn’t what I was expecting.
I looked around. The room was empty. What felt like a bag of rocks dropped in the bottom of my stomach, and I sagged against the doorframe. He left.
PC wiggled in my arms, and I set him down without moving a foot more into my empty apartment. PC, oblivious, pranced across the room and checked his food bowl. A couple of bites of kibble were left in the bottom and he happily—and noisily—chomped away at the early morning snack.
I stood there looking around a moment longer. Then I pushed away from the doorframe and forced my back straight.
So he left. So what? It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before.
I shoved the door closed harder than needed and dropped my purse by the side of the bed—which Falin had apparently stripped before leaving. I glanced around, but I didn’t spot the bedding anywhere. Great.
I headed for my dresser, pulling my shirt over my head as I walked. Then the bathroom door opened.
I jumped, whirling around at the sound and pulling my shirt flat against my chest in one movement. Falin stepped out of the bathroom, his ice blue gaze meeting mine.
I gulped and looked away. “I, uh . . .” I’d thought he’d left, but there really wasn’t a reason to say that. “The police are on their way,” I finally said, and then turned my back on him so I could dig through my clothes hamper one-handed. The hamper was currently filled with clean but unfolded clothes—the dirty clothes were in the pile beside it.
I felt the heat of his body warm the air behind my bare back before his hands landed on my shoulders. His skin was pleasantly warm against mine, and I felt the urge to lean back against his body and take the comfort I’d find in his arms.
But I didn’t.
He’d left without a word and appeared just as suddenly. On top of that, he was the Winter Queen’s assassin—and her lover. Besides, I didn’t do relationships. I stepped away from him.
“I have to get dressed,” I said, clutching the change of clothes I’d grabbed and heading for the bathroom.
“Alex . . .” But he trailed off, not following my name with anything.
I stopped halfway to the bathroom and turned back around. “What happened to my sheets?”
He glanced at the bed. “Soaking in the tub. They had my blood on them.” He gave me a weak half smile and lifted one shoulder. The movement wasn’t smooth, though, and he wasn’t quite fast enough to cover the wince.
He’s hurt. Well, of course he was hurt. He’d shown up half dead last night and he’d reopened the wound during the fight. The idea that he could have healed all that damage in the last hour was pure faerie tale, but he did look healed.
His platinum blond hair hung loose and clean around his face and shoulders, and I could see no evidence of wounds on his face or scalp. His clothes were what I’d grown accustomed to when we’d worked together before—dress slacks and a crisp white oxford—but what I saw couldn’t have been real because the clothes he’d worn here were torn and bloodstained, and he didn’t have clothes stashed in my apartment. I almost opened my shields to see what he wore under the glamour, but what if he wasn’t wearing anything?
And speaking of clothes, I was still only half dressed and I could hear the police sirens in the distance. Crap. I ducked into the bathroom and dressed quickly. When I emerged a minute or two later I found Falin sitting stiff-backed on my stripped bed.
“Don’t tell them I was here,” he said without standing. I stopped. “Who? The police?”
He nodded.
“I can’t lie to the police for you.”
I frowned and studied him. I didn’t really know Falin. Once I’d thought I did, at least a little, or at least I’d felt like I knew him. But feelings could be deceptive.
“What’s going on?” I asked, leaning against the wall. I could hear the sirens in front of the house now. I needed to get downstairs, but I wanted some answers from Falin first. “What happened to you?”
Falin pushed away from the bed. He walked across the room and peered through the window before answering. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated? Someone tried to kill you.”
He didn’t respond. Maybe I have it wrong? He was the Winter Queen’s assassin. Maybe it wasn’t that someone had tried to kill him. Maybe they were just trying to stop him from killing them.
He still didn’t say anything.
“Falin, why are you here? Why now?” Had he just needed a place to hide while he was injured? Was that why he was here?
From the main portion of the house below I heard the front doorbell ring. I had to go, but . . . I looked up at him, waiting for an answer.
“I wanted to contact you,” he said, stepping forward, and I wasn’t sure if his words meant he had wanted to contact me during the month he was missing, or if he was here because he wanted to contact me. He reached out like he was going to place his hands on my hips.
I skittered sideways, out of his path.
“Oh, no.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You do not get to disappear for a month, say you meant to contact me, and then try to pick up right back where we were. It doesn’t work that way.”
His shoulders sagged as he stepped back. Then a half smile made the edge of his lips crook. “You’re mad at me.”
“And that’s amusing because?”
The half smile spread into a lopsided grin, and he stood up straighter. “You wouldn’t be mad if you didn’t care. I’m on to you, Alexis.”
Voices drifted up from the floor below. “I have to go,” I said, turning my back on him as I pulled the door open.
I hesitated once I stepped into the stairwell and glanced back at him. I wanted to ask if he’d be there when I returned, but I didn’t. Without saying good-bye, I pulled the door closed behind me and escaped the rest of our awkward conversation to have a much easier one. It was probably a bad sign that I considered it easier to be questioned by the police.
The responding officers weren’t happy that we’d waited nearly an hour to call the authorities or that we’d all dressed and started cleaning up the crime scene. Oh, well.
The anti–black magic unit took the lead in processing the scene. The room was photographed, the charmed disks were gathered and each sealed individually in a magicaldampening bag, and even the raven was caged and taken away. After we’d given the lead detective, a weary-looking witch by the name of Tepps, our statements—all of which were edited slightly to leave out Falin and the soul collectors—Tamara drove Holly to the hospital. Caleb refused to go, and nothing in the ABMU’s arsenal detected dark magic on Caleb, so he couldn’t be committed against his will.
“We’ve bagged thirty-three disks. If there was one per construct, you two were lucky to get out with just a couple of scratches,” Detective Tepps said as he watched his people work.
I nodded. “Yes, sir.” We were. Though there’d been six of us, not two. “Have you deciphered any of the spells on the disk from the attack in the Quarter?”
Detective Tepps looked me up and down, as if assessing why I wanted to know—and if wanting to know made me a suspect. He had a day’s worth of stubble on his chin and a line around his head that made me suspect he’d worn a hat earlier in the night.
“We’ve made some progress,” he said, but didn’t offer to elaborate. One of the techs called his name and he excused himself.
I hovered on the outskirts of the investigation, hoping to pick up something useful for my own case. I didn’t. This wasn’t a major crime—there was no body, little damage, and nothing had been stolen. The cops tagged and bagged and then moved on. They were wrapping up when the FIB, and Agent Nori in particular, appeared on the scene.
“So, another construct attack?” she asked as she gave the bagged evidence a cursory glance.
“We have a live specimen this time,” Tepps told her, and she sniffed as if that fact wasn’t terribly interesting.