I started forward, ready to throw myself at her, ready to slash into her with the ghost knife, but Annalise caught my wrist. I struggled, but she was too damn strong.
The maid bucked and her eyes rolled back. Csilla leaned down onto her, pinning her to the white carpet. A horrible wet rattle came from the maid’s throat.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I twisted against Annalise, using my body weight to knock her off balance. She was strong as hell, but she weighed as much as a pile of brooms. I’d carry her across the room, if I had to.
But it was already too late. The maid’s body burst as though she’d swallowed a grenade. Her legs, arms, and head split open in a ragged confusion, but there was no blood. In fact, there was no red in it at all, just a strange charcoal gray and smudge brown, and her body held together like a shredded blanket waving in front of a fan.
The maid’s body was gone, transformed into something that fluttered to the ground as Csilla’s spell spent itself. Her flesh, bones, clothes, and shoes had vanished, and in their place was a pile of something I couldn’t make out. My brain was looking for a corpse; it couldn’t recognize the dark, shiny stuff on the carpet.
I wasn’t struggling against Annalise anymore—what would have been the point?—but she was still squeezing my wrist, much harder than she realized.
Csilla stood without letting go of what had been the maid’s throat, lifting something that shimmered like raw silk. It hung from her hand like fabric, splotchy and wet-looking. She draped it over her shoulders as though it would keep her warm, and among the discolored blotches and ragged ends of that cloth, I could make out the shadow of an agonized face. Csilla returned to her chair and stared into space.
My hands were shaking and I felt sick to my stomach. A fury was building in me, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
I turned to Annalise. “Boss.” I looked down at my wrist and so did she. She let go. Her face was pinched and pale. I didn’t want to think about what my expression looked like.
Talbot was breathing heavily. “That was fucked up.”
“We’re going to be fucked up if we don’t move quickly,” I said. I moved toward the door. The housekeeping cart was parked just outside the room, but there was no one else in the hall. “Talbot, pull that cart all the way back to the elevator. Then get back in here and close the door.”
He looked jumpy. “What if …” What if I get caught?
I held his gaze with my own. “If someone sees you, tell them it was in the way. Just be cool.”
He hurried out the door, taking a tissue from a silver box by the phone. He laid the tissue over the handle before pulling it away.
I spun on Annalise. “Boss, aren’t predators just magical beings that kill people?” My voice was a harsh whisper, although I felt like shouting.
She understood what I was saying right away. “No.” Her voice was low and urgent, as though she was afraid she’d be overheard. She glanced at Csilla. “Predators are a new link in the food chain. They’re alligators in the rabbit hutch. The society doesn’t hunt down murderers.”
“I can see why.”
She stepped close to me, her teeth bared. “Don’t you dare talk to me about killing. Do you think I’ve never killed an innocent person by accident? What about you? Are you sure your hands are completely clean?” Talbot hurried back inside. He shut the door with both hands and his shoulder, as though it weighed as much as a bank-vault door.
“This isn’t even her fault,” Annalise said. “It’s mine. The peers wanted her out here for him.” She pointed at Talbot. “I was supposed to look after her.”
Don’t ask Csilla any questions, Annalise had said. I paced back and forth. Wally King, Arne’s crew, and the drapes were all running around the city, and I had Csilla on my side. I felt just as dirty as the people we were after.
Csilla was still sitting in the same chair on the other side of the room, staring at the same piece of nothing. “The universe … we think its thoughts and …,” she said, her voice trailing off. “We … we … we …” She seemed agitated. Maybe she knew she’d done something wrong.
Annalise said: “We’ll have to move her.”
“What about me?” Talbot asked.
Annalise scowled at him. “You’re with me now. Don’t fuck up.”
We packed quickly, throwing all the clothes into suitcases without folding them. Annalise checked us out, and a valet brought the Grand Vitara to the front door. We moved to a Best Western in Canoga Park, throwing all Csilla’s things onto the bed and parking her in a little chair by the window. Annalise went into the bathroom to make a call.
When she emerged, she said: “An investigator will be here before tomorrow morning to escort her home. Let’s go.”
We went straight to the airport in Burbank, boarded a private jet, and lifted off. Predators were on the loose with more coming anytime, but we were leaving for Canada to go after the guy who was bringing them here. I was sure we were making a terrible mistake.
During the flight, Talbot tried to talk about the mission, but Annalise didn’t answer any of his questions, and I certainly didn’t know anything. Eventually, he stopped talking and stared out the window. I closed my eyes and slept heavily for an hour and a half. We landed at a small airport in Everett, Washington.
At the airport, we were met by a woman who didn’t want to know our names. She was nearly my height, and was as skinny as a mop handle. Her hair was a nest of tight black curls with a good bit of gray mixed in, and her muscles were long and ropy. Annalise handed her an unsealed envelope, which she tucked into the satchel she carried.
She piled us into a pickup truck—Talbot and I sat in the bed. I peered into the cab to see if Annalise had something to say to the driver, but I didn’t see them talking.
The truck ride ended at the docks. We had to detour through waterfront construction, but we eventually pulled into a long parking lot and stopped at the back.
Annalise followed the tall woman, and Talbot and I followed Annalise. The driver unlocked a gate and we followed her down the dock. The boats on either side of us were pleasure craft of one kind or another—some sailboats, but mostly they were tall motorboats with enclosed cabins and tinted windows. They looked like expensive condos with a hull, or maybe oversized SUVs. A little thrill went through me. I had never liked the ocean, but I liked a high-class ride as much as any car thief.
Unfortunately, the boat we stopped at was the smallest of the bunch. It was a little more than twenty feet long, I guessed, and completely open to the weather. BAYLINER was written along the side, but it looked like a brand name, not the name of the boat.
Annalise stopped short. “This isn’t a sailboat.”
“There wasn’t time,” the tall woman said.
“Wasn’t time for what? This is a deck boat.”
The woman sighed in exasperation. “Wasn’t time for you to find someone else. I’m not doing this for you people in a sailboat. Not again.”
I had an uncomfortable moment waiting for Annalise’s reaction, but after a few seconds she nodded. “You’re the expert.”
The captain led us aboard. She cast off and carefully motored out of the slip.
“Do you have our folder?” Annalise asked.
“After we pass Jetty Island,” Captain answered.
It was about thirty minutes before she opened her satchel and handed Annalise a folder. By that time, we were all stretched out on the long cushions that ringed the small deck area. Talbot went to sit out at the bow, but Annalise and I stayed near Captain.
Annalise opened the folder and took out three sheets of paper in plastic slipcovers. She handed one to Talbot and one to me. It was a map. I laid it flat on the cushion beside me to make it easier to read—we weren’t going that fast, but there was enough of a breeze that the ride was rough.