My breath hitched. How could anyone-? How could her mother-? Goddamn it! Why, why, why? I closed my eyes, swallowed, walked to Dana's bedside, and took her hand.
"Holy shit," Jaime whispered. "She's a kid."
"Fif-" My throat dried up. I tried again. "She's fifteen. But she looks small for her age."
"Fifteen? Jesus Christ. When Lucas said 'girl,' I thought, you know, he meant a woman. I should have known better. He says girl, he means girl."
"Is that a problem?"
Jaime inhaled, gaze glued to Dana. "Tougher, yes. Not to communicate. I mean"-she tapped a manicured nail against her forehead-"up here. What do the doctors say?"
"She's stable. As to whether she'll regain consciousness, they don't know."
"Well, we might find that out tonight. If she's crossed over, I'll know it."
Jaime rolled her shoulders, approached the bed, and gripped the side rail. She stared down at Dana, then shook her head, opened her oversize purse, and pulled out what looked like a jumbo makeup bag.
"I'll call you in when I'm ready," she said, not looking up.
"I'm an old hand at this," I said. "Well, not exactly an old hand, but I've helped out at a few summonings. Here, pass me the censer and herbs and I'll set them up while you-"
"No."
The word came out sharp enough to make me jump. Jaime clutched her tool bag closed, as if I might pry it from her hands.
"I'd rather you waited in the hall," she said.
"Uh, sure. Okay. Call me then."
I walked to the door, then glanced back to see her still holding the bag closed, waiting. I pushed open the door and stepped into the hall.
Well, I said necromancers were queer beasts. Jaime might look a far cry from your typical spacey-eyed necro, but you have to wonder about a woman who'll strip in front of a stranger, yet draws the line at letting the same person watch her perform a summoning ceremony. Not that I minded being relegated to the sidelines. I knew what was in that Gucci makeup bag, and it wasn't designer lip-liner.
To summon the dead you needed artifacts of death. In that kit, there'd be everything from grave dirt to scraps of moldy grave clothes to, well, dead things… or, at least, travel-size pieces of them. The tools-in-trade of a necromancer. Made me really happy to be a witch, casting spells surrounded by sweet-smelling herbs, pretty gemstones, and antique filigreed chalices.
About ten minutes later, Jaime called me in. When I entered, she was sitting beside the bed, holding Dana's hand. Most necromancers leave their tools out during a summoning, but Jaime's makeup bag had vanished, along with its contents. Only the censer remained, burning vervain, which necromancers used when contacting either traumatized souls, such as murder victims, or the souls of those who didn't realize they were spirits.
"It didn't work?" I asked.
"It worked." Jamie's voice had faded to a strained whisper and her face was pale. "She's here. I haven't-" Her voice strengthened. "I haven't made contact yet. I think it'd be easiest on her if I used channeling. Do you know how that works?"
I nodded. "You let Dana speak through you."
"Right."
"So I'll ask her the questions and-"
"No, no," Jamie said. "Well, yes, you'll ask the questions, but I'll relay them to her, and let her speak through me. She doesn't take over my body. That's full channeling, and if a necro ever suggests that, find someone else. No necro in her right mind ever gives herself completely over to a spirit."
"Got it."
"Now, for the first part, making contact, I'll do that on my own. It's easier that way. I'll establish contact and… explain things." She swallowed. "I'll tell her what happened, where she is. She may know, but… with kids… there can be some resistance to the truth."
Damn it, I hadn't thought of this. We weren't just asking Jaime to contact Dana. We were asking her to tell the girl that she was lying in a hospital bed, comatose.
"I'm sorry," I said. "If you don't want to do this, I totally understand-"
"I'm fine. She'll figure it out sooner or later, right? Now, she's almost certainly not going to remember a play-by-play."
"Trauma amnesia," I said. "Lucas told me about it."
"Good. I'll make contact now. This may take a while."
Twenty minutes ticked by. During that time, Jaime sat ramrod straight, eyes closed, hand clutching Dana's, the occasional twitch of her cheek the only sign that something was happening.
"Okay," Jaime said finally, in a cheerful chirp. "Now there's someone here who's going to help us catch the guy who did this to you, okay, kiddo?"
"Good." The response was pitched an octave higher than Jaime's voice.
"Her name is Paige, and she's a witch, just like you. Do you know what the Coven is?"
"I… I've heard of it… I think."
"It's a group for witches. Paige used to be in the Coven, helping witches there, but now she works outside the Coven, so she can help all witches." That was a nice way of putting it. I mentally thanked Jaime for the positive spin. "What I want you to do is tell her everything you remember, then she'll ask you some questions, and we'll catch this guy before you wake up."
So Dana was okay. Thank God. I relaxed for the first time since walking into the room.
Dana asked when she'd be waking up.
"Any day now," Jaime said. "Your dad is supposed to be here soon-"
"My dad? I knew he'd come. Is my mom there?"
"She's been in and out," Jaime said. "Taking care of you."
"And they'll be there? When I wake up?"
"Sure will. Now, can you tell Paige what you saw?"
"Sure. Hi, Paige."
I opened my mouth, but Jaime answered for me. "You won't be able to hear Paige, hon. I'll have to relay her messages. But you'll get to see her when you wake up. She's been pretty worried about you."
Dana smiled through Jaime, the smile of a kid who wasn't used to people giving a damn. I'd make sure her dad knew about Dana's situation with her mother and, if he was the kind of father Benicio said he was, Dana would never have to spend another night on the streets. If he didn't, well, then I'd see to it myself.
"I'll try," Dana said. "But… I don't remember it so well. It's all jumbled up, like something I saw on television a long time ago and can't really remember."
"That's okay, Dana," Jaime said. "We know you won't remember much, so if you don't, we understand, but if you do remember something, anything at all, that'll be great."
"Well, it was Sunday night. I was coming home from a party. I wasn't loaded or anything. I'd had a joint, but that's it, just one joint I shared with this guy I knew. So I was walking home through the park-I know that sounds dumb, but around there, the park seemed safer than the roads, you know? I was being careful, staying on the path, looking, listening. And then…"
Her voice trailed off.
"Then what, Dana?" Jaime prompted.
"Then… I think I must forget what happens next because all I remember is this guy was suddenly standing right behind me. I must have heard him coming, maybe I tried to run, but I don't remember."
"Ask her-" I began.
Dana continued. "I know you're going to want to know what the guy looked like, but I didn't really see him. I know I should have…"
"Hey, if it was me," Jaime said, "I'd have been freaking so bad, I wouldn't remember a damn thing. You're doing fine, kiddo. Just take it slow and give us what you can."
"He grabbed me, and next thing I know, I'm on the ground, way off the path, in this forest. I was kind of awake, but not really, and I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep."
"Drugged?" I asked.
Jaime relayed the question.
"I-I guess so. Only, it didn't feel… I just remember being tired. I don't even think he had me tied up, but I didn't move. I didn't want to move. I just wanted to sleep. Then he put this rope around my neck, and I blacked out, then I was here."