“They couldn’t have at least picked a high-end hotel for this?”
Baker laughed. “High-end hotels have security cameras and staff that actually pay attention to the comings and goings. Our people wouldn’t be able to stand guard unnoticed.”
True enough. But still. I couldn’t help but look at the grubby carpeting again, not really wanting to walk across it in shoes, much less barefoot.
I turned my attention back to the scene playing out in the bowl. I’d been afraid Gran wouldn’t be able to pull off the whole mourning thing, but I could see she was acting up a storm. Maybe she’d missed her true calling in life.
“You did actually die, you know. During the exorcism.” Baker sounded impressed. I was guessing it was because of the exorcism, not the death. Being in the military, she’d probably seen plenty of the latter. Then again, the sirens aren’t exactly a military superpower, so maybe not.
“So they tell me.” King Dahlmar and Matty had arranged for me to have an exorcism right at the scene. A little unusual, but Creede’s spell had actually held the demon away from me and they were afraid if they waited, the demon would be able to zero in again. I’d gone along because I wanted the demon mark off of me. If we were going after Eirene to rescue Emma, none of us could afford for me to have that kind of a weakness. First, Matty had cleansed the room, moving in smaller and smaller circles until only Creede and I were left. The closer Matty got, the worse I started to feel and the more Creede had to drain his own energy to keep the gate closed.
I didn’t really remember the actual exorcism. I only remember Matty starting to chant in a singsong voice and then hideous, intense pain engulfed me for what seemed like an eternity. The pain was followed by . . . nothing. Light, air, and absolute quiet. I remember standing with Ivy and Vicki and that they wouldn’t let me step past them. I vaguely remember Vicki pushing me down a long flight of stairs . . . and then there was pain again as apparently my soul rushed back into my body.
When I first woke, I’d been incredibly angry with Vicki. More than I had ever been before. Later, I realized what had happened and I was grateful. In what was very likely her last act on this plane of existence she’d saved me one last time.
I shuddered, my hand automatically reaching to touch the scars from where the demon had clawed me. Weird, that. Before the exorcism there hadn’t been scars—just an invisible mark that had served as a psychic tie he could follow to find me anywhere. The full rite had cut that tie. Thank God there was a medic ready with the heart machine. It wasn’t until after they revived me that the scars had appeared. I only wish I were confident that the demon mark was gone. But I didn’t think it would be until Eirene was dead.
I watched the image of Dottie moving slowly up the aisle with her walker. Her expression was solemn, not sad precisely, more worried. I wondered then, if she knew. Clairvoyant that she was, she might just have “peeked.” It was something she’d do. She looked up and I could swear her eyes met mine, that she could see me watching.
“I just don’t see the point,” I protested. “What makes anyone think my dying is going to bring Eirene out of the woodwork?”
Baker explained it to me again, with only a hint of impatience. “She is obsessed with you. You ruined her plans. You have everything she wants. She will want to be sure you are dead. And failing that, the demon possessing her wants you. He felt you die. But if he can search all of the various planes of existence for you, he will not find you. And then he will wonder.”
“That doesn’t mean it’ll draw them out.”
“The bowl says otherwise. I’ve seen it and so have all of the others.”
I didn’t say a word, just looked at her. She knew as well or better than I did that the future is subject to change. And while the odds got better if more than one clairvoyant got the same images, that didn’t make it certain.
“Fine. Our profilers and those of the church agree that it is in the nature of this particular demon to require it of her. It is most likely that he is the one in charge by now, whether Eirene knows it or not.”
That seemed likely. “But it makes no sense.”
She threw up her hands in a gesture of irritated surrender. “Celia, think about what you said. She’s insane. He’s a demon. Of course it makes no sense to sane humans. Why would it?”
Okay, fine. I could concede that, but I still didn’t like it. Something about the whole plan just felt . . . wrong. I am more of a believer in planning than hunches—probably because I never was psychic enough to get hunches. But I could understand now why people believe in them. I was even more convinced something was wrong when the temperature in the room began to plummet.
“Something’s happening.” Could one of the ghosts have remained behind to see this through? Whoever it was, was trying to get my attention.
“We’ve got people surrounding the building. If something was wrong, one of them would warn us.” Kevin was on guard, along with two more of Lopaka’s people. Since he’d been missing since shortly after Vicki’s death, no one would expect him to make it to my funeral. As a werewolf with a background in black ops, he was a good choice for a guard. Plus he’d insisted.
After all, Emma was his sister.
Considering his skill set and metaphysical power, I should’ve felt safe. Instead, I felt trapped.
Baker gave me a look. Whatever she saw in my face made her uneasy. She extinguished the scene playing out in the bowl, reached for her gun, and switched off the safety. I did the same thing with my gun, then patted my pockets, making sure everything else I packed was in place.
There was a tap on the door and a familiar voice whispered, “It’s Kevin. We have a change of plan.”
Uh . . . a change of plan? I don’t think so. I pulled my One Shot left-handed. The little gun of holy water didn’t require the strength or accuracy the handgun did. All I needed it was a quick squirt to make sure Kevin was Kevin. Call me paranoid if you will, but it keeps me alive.
Baker started to position herself behind the door, but I shook my head. She was strong, but she wasn’t going to be strong enough to hold the door closed against whatever might be impersonating Kevin. Hell, I wasn’t positive I was strong enough, but I had a better shot at it. So I passed her the squirt gun and got in position.
“We need to verify you’re who you say you are,” I said calmly. I wasn’t feeling calm. It was turning into an icebox in here and several small objects were starting to levitate.
“Damn it, Celia, we don’t have time—”
That was totally unlike Kevin and I flicked a glance at Helen. She scowled and nodded. Yeah, we were going to do this. Shit.
“Fine, then.” I yanked open the door and Helen sprayed him.
It wasn’t an impostor. Maybe we’d have been better off if it was.
I heard a soft pffut of sound, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting Kevin. Baker staggered back, slapping at her neck. Her gun arm rose but too slow. Kevin slapped it away as he hit the door with all his strength and weight.