I nodded. “Yeah, I do. I just . . . we need to be home right now.”
“I understand. Get dressed. And I want you to drink a lot of water over the next few days. It will help dilute what toxin still runs in your veins. The antivenin is helpful but it can’t negate all of the poison.”
I accepted the bottle of water she pressed in my hand and began to dress. All the quietude of the past couple of months had vanished in a snap of the fingers, in a quick gust of wind.
Aswala handed me a kit containing the healing salve to put on my wound, as well as a week’s worth of bandages. Then, feeling I should say something, I caught her gaze.
“I promise to go home and rest. But our lives . . . there is seldom down time. We’re . . .” And then I stopped. I couldn’t tell her about Shadow Wing. I couldn’t tell her about the war back in Otherworld. All I could do was shrug and give her a faint smile.
She held my coat for me. “I understand. Perhaps more than you know.”
I headed out of the room, bracing my arm from time to time against the wall to steady myself. “Where are Camille and Menolly?”
“I imagine the morgue. It’s—”
“I know where it’s at.” I waved her off. “Go do what you need to do.”
I found the elevator and punched the button for the third floor down and held on as the car descended to the underground levels. The Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigation unit had the main floor, then three stories below ground. There was rumored to be another floor, lower still, but no one had ever confirmed it. Not even when I was dating Chase.
Riding in the quiet elevator, I stared at the nicely polished mirrors in the corner. I knew they housed hidden cameras and I realized just how pale I must have looked. Too fucking bad. There wasn’t anything I could do about it right now except take it as easy as I could.
The doors opened with a soft whoosh and I stepped out. The morgue was straight ahead and I pushed through the double doors with a muted thud.
Here, the dead came to rest, limbo before their final consignment. Here, memories were severed. Blood and bone were mere leftovers of lives once lived and now lost. Death played no favorites, claiming the young and the old, the sick and the well. There was no get-out-of-jail-free card. And then my gaze fell on Menolly. She was standing in the middle of six tables covered with the snow white blankets of the dead. Sheets so pristine they made me shiver.
There were ways to cheat death . . . but at a high cost. Menolly had found out the hard way. Though eternity had not been her choice, she made the best of what she had. I wondered—could I do it? Could I face an unchanging existence, caught in my body, my soul trapped until either fire claimed me, the sun took me, or a stake plunged through the heart? Mortal thoughts, these, and not easy ones.
Camille had her phone out and was writing down the names of the dead as Menolly turned from table to table, the expression on her face fading from horror to disbelief. She was losing her ability to take it in—I could see it in her eyes. She’d reached overload and, for the first time in many years, fear flickered in her eyes. She began to back away toward the wall, whimpering.
“Camille!” I nodded toward Menolly and Camille dropped her pad and pen, softly moving forward. Menolly was crouching again, leaning against the wall, and the predator was coming to the surface. She looked cornered, like a mountain lion trapped against a cliff face.
“Be careful.” I kept my voice low.
“Yes, I see.” Camille didn’t look back at me—she was close enough that she didn’t dare take her eyes off our sister. When Menolly was in the grips of this sort of stress, her vampiric nature rose up, and it would be all too easy for her to attack those trying to help her.
“Call Nerissa. Get her on the phone. See if she’s here. Chase may have dragged her in to talk to some of the customers at the fire—that’s what she does.”
I punched in Nerissa’s number and she answered almost immediately. As Camille speculated, she was in the building—a boon for us—and I quickly explained what was going on. She hung up, on her way down before I finished.
And then, Camille was kneeling just out of arm’s reach. Not far enough to save herself, but enough to give Menolly a second to clear her thoughts, should she attack. Camille held out her hands in an imploring gesture.
“Menolly . . . can you hear me? Menolly, honey, it’s Camille. Your big sister. Remember me?”
The frightened, trapped look in Menolly’s eyes flickered. She pressed against the wall, shaking her head. “Get out of here.”
“No. We can’t leave without you. You need to let us help you. Listen to my voice.” And as she spoke, Camille’s voice grew stronger. She didn’t have the command voice down pat, but she could force a reasonable facsimile when necessary. “Menolly, I want you to listen to me. Do you hear me?”
“Leave me alone . . . just . . . leave . . .” Menolly stammered and fell silent. “Don’t make me walk past their bodies again. What have I done?”
“You did not do this. It was a fire. You are not to blame. We know it was arson—you know this. Listen to me. You aren’t at fault.” Camille’s voice grew stronger, but Menolly still resisted.
And then, from behind us, came a male voice. Chase.
“Menolly. Stand up. Now.” His voice rang through the room, echoing with authority. I shivered, staring at him. I knew he had some ability in this, but had no clue he had reached this level. I wasn’t even sure if he recognized how well he was able to use a command voice.
Nerissa stood behind him, her eyes teary as she took in the scene. But she kept quiet, letting Chase take the lead. He moved forward, slow and deliberate.
“Menolly. Listen to me. Come back to us. Come back to yourself. Do you hear me? Answer me, now.”
And just like that, Menolly’s face flashed again and she turned to Chase, her face softening out of the predator’s gaze. As she saw Nerissa, her expression crumbled. She folded then, not in defense, but in tears, and Nerissa ran forward, gathering her in her arms.
“My wife, my beautiful, wonderful wife, can you forgive me for this?”
As Nerissa led her through the field of bodies, holding Menolly’s face to her breast so she wouldn’t have to look at them, Chase gestured to Camille and me. We turned to follow, leaving the carnage behind.
Chapter 6
When we arrived home, it was nearing 2:00 A.M. We were ragged and beat but the first thing Camille did was make me lie down on the sofa while she went to check on Iris. Nerissa led Menolly into the kitchen where I could hear them talking softly.
“What gives?” Roz brought me a light throw and covered me with it.
“Seven people died in the fire at the Wayfarer, and Menolly is blaming herself since it’s her bar.” I leaned back against the pillows gratefully. I hadn’t realized just how shaky I still was until we’d gotten to the steps and Shade had to carry me up. It felt awkward—I wasn’t a small woman—but when he saw I was having problems, he had swept me into his arms without a word and carried me inside.
Roz’s expression fell. He slowly sat down beside me. “No. That’s going to kill her.” He shook his head. “I wonder if I should go talk to her—”
“It gets worse. She received threats—two calls, one tonight, from someone threatening to burn down the bar. She’s going to be asking herself why she didn’t take it seriously after the first one. And we’re going to have to have an answer she can live with. Right now, Nerissa is with her. Give them some time. How’s Iris doing?”
“Still no sign of the babies but we’re getting closer and she’s a trouper. Trillian and Vanzir, of all people, are helping Hanna and Mallen. They told me to stay out here. Apparently, I get too panicked when it comes to a woman in labor.”