I shivered as her hand brushed my shoulder, torn between the urge to hug her and the need to scream at her. “I know what you told Dad that night. I loved you, Mom. Why didn’t you love me?” My voice came out like a squeak. I felt like I was a tiny girl, begging her to pick me up.
She bent down to look in my eyes. “You act as if I didn’t try. You were a wild girl, always given to mischief and destruction. Name one of your birthdays that didn’t end in a trip to the emergency room or with a visit from the fire department. Name one party you’ve attended that didn’t end in a fight or an accident. I tried, Marissa.”
My hands shook and the porch light exploded in a shower of sparks as my blessings drank in my anger. She glanced to the broken light and shook her head. “You have no control over those blessings. For the sake of your sister, go back to your life. I’ve made my choices, and I’ll bear the consequences.”
Anger flared over my sadness and my hands stopped shaking. “You made mine too. You said I could come home when I was free.”
She let go of me. “Could you live with yourself if those things harmed your sister? I doubt I could stop you if you decided to go back inside, but the girl I raised was never a killer. Perhaps you truly have changed.”
I stood in the silence, in the darkness, considering the choices I was finally free to make. I never thought the first choice I’d make on my own would be to give up the thing I’d dreamed about most. “I love you, Mom. Tell Dad and Hope I said I love them too.” I turned and walked into the night, and grief went with me.
Thirty
IT TOOK ME two days to get back into the city, hitchhiking. The first person to pick me up was a truck driver with a load of cantaloupe. He spoke only Spanish, and the only Spanish phrases I’d ever heard were from Rosa. Judging from his reaction, Rosa said mean things. My second ride was an elderly couple who explained that Jesus loved me. Jesus had actually kicked me out of his truck for repeating a phrase Rosa had always said meant “Thank you very much.” My last ride was a trio of stoners. I’d eaten casseroles less baked. They didn’t understand that “No” meant “Keep your hands on your side of the car,” “I’m not lifting up my shirt,” and “If you try that once more I’m breaking one of your fingers.”
When I finally got back to the city, I smelled like the high-altitude seating at a rock concert. I dropped them off at the emergency room to get their fingers splinted, and took a cab to the Agency.
I almost didn’t see it in time: the building was cordoned off. I had the cab driver stop a block away and let me out. I merged with the flow of people, walked past on the other side, trying to look only when others did.
The signs said biohazard, the guards posted said magic. I’d been around enough that I could recognize the difference. Rent-A-Cops wear bad polyester uniforms that never quite fit them. Whatever these things were, they wore Rent-A-Cop skins the same way. When they moved, their skin sagged and something evil peered out from their eyes at the people passing by.
I headed for home, because there was a decent chance Ari would be there instead. I had no way to know if Liam had already followed the card back or not. When I walked into my apartment, I saw the answering machine flashing.
I ran to it, figured which button actually played messages, and waited. When I heard Ari’s voice my heart leaped in my throat.
“Marissa, I found Liam at the gates of Kingdom and brought him back with me to the Agency. Grimm says you—” In the background I heard screaming, Rosa shouting something I no longer believed meant “Merry Christmas” in Spanish, and the roar of a shotgun. The message ended. Whatever happened at the Agency, Ari and Liam had been there. I reflexively put my hand to my wrist. And found nothing. My mirrors were glass and silver now, and I couldn’t call Grimm with a word.
I remembered the words of the Fae Mother. She’d tried to tell me. To warn me. I had my freedom. And that was all I had. I’d dreamed a lot about being free, but never dreamed it would cost me what it did. I’d been up for over twenty-four hours, and as tears blurred my eyes it grew harder and harder to keep them open. I collapsed on the couch and passed out.
When I got up, I had a headache as determined as I was. I looked again at my bare wrist. I finally had the freedom to do wherever I wanted. To my surprise, I wanted to do what I’d done for the last six years. I unlocked my gun safe and took out my spare nine millimeter.
I was going to rent a car, head downtown, and run over the first couple of guards. The others, I’d shoot. I didn’t know if Ari or Liam were still in the Agency, but I’d kill anything that got between me and that office. I was still in the shower when I heard the knock. A special knock, one I’d taught Ari when I first brought her home, as a way to signal me when a freezer I’d locked her in was low on air. I’d used the same code with Evangeline when I came to work myself.
I ran to the door, dripping the whole way, wearing only a towel. I threw open the door and someone tackled me, rolling me onto my stomach and pinning my arm behind me.
“I’m going to kill you, you bitch,” screamed Evangeline. In any other building, maybe the neighbors would have called the cops, but you can bet mine had learned ignorance really was bliss.
I felt something pop in my shoulder, and pain flared down my arm. “You’re breaking my arm.”
If anything, she leaned down harder. “I never thought you had it in you, you know. That plain little face with just enough brains to be deadly. He told me what happened. You two had one little spat, and you went and did this?” She reached for something, and I heard the soft beeps of a cell phone.
“She’s here. Of course I have her.” She leaned over and said softly, “M, I want you to know something. If you lie to us, she’s not going to kill you.” She gave my hand a squeeze until something cracked. “That’s my job.”
After a few minutes I heard someone else come in, and Evangeline yanked me to my feet.
“Sit,” said Jess, “so we can talk.”
“Listen—”
She hit me backhand across the mouth like one swats a fly. “I tell you when to answer. Where is he?” She wiped my blood off her hand on the tablecloth.
“Liam was at the Agency.”
Wrong answer. Jess grabbed me by my hair and twisted my head. “Grimm. Where is Grimm?”
“I don’t know, call him.” It was harder to breathe with my head at this angle. When she finally let go I slumped back over.
Evangeline dangled her broken Agency bracelet in front of me. “We’ve been trying for the last two days. Where was his original mirror?”
“Something’s happened to Grimm?” I asked, and I think that’s about when they realized something else was wrong. Jess let go of my hair and looked at me.
“Fine. Grimm had us getting the truth out of people about the Seal. I hear you like this thing.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the Root of Lies. “You know what this is.”
All I could think of was how desperate Grimm must have been to let them take the Root of Lies out of his office. It was something best locked away, buried and hidden.
She reached out with it, running the claw down the side of my face. It shifted and moved, but the nails didn’t dig into my cheek. I jerked away as it moved, tickling the skin at my throat, caressing me under the chin.
Jess shuddered, and looked queasy. “That’s wrong.” She forced my hand up to it. The tangled mass of thorns at the end separated, leaving only finger bones that ended in thorn points. It flexed underneath my hand, tracing a pattern on my palm, and wrapped around me with a grip like steel.