What he said on the phone to who? He never mentioned that name. I interrupted before he could go any further. George Miller’s daughter? Great. The whole family was evil. “Look, John. I saw her yesterday—she attacked me with powerful magic in a bar. Tried to kill me with billiard balls and wooden pool cues through the heart. I got a good look at her from five feet away.”
He shook his head “Not possible. Glinda lives on the East Coast. If she was in town, she’d have called me. She’s like family, Celia. I’ve known her for more than ten years. Besides, she’s only a level four. She wouldn’t have the oomph to pull off an attack with multiple objects.”
“I’m not the one who’s confused, John. She’s freaking powerful, and she’s nuts. She slammed me with a spell that had everything in the bar trying to kill me. I also didn’t imagine the blast of power that picked me up off a pool table and threw me into the wall a dozen feet away. No, this is her.”
He hadn’t liked my tone, or the fact I’d called her crazy. His eyes were narrowed down to slits. His voice was low, and carefully controlled when he warned me, “Be very careful what you say, Celia. Remember, she’s George’s daughter.”
Fine. If we were going to escalate, let’s remind him of some facts. “Let’s also remember that George was trafficking with demons, John. Siren influence or no, who knows what bargains he … or his family made with them. Have you seen her since his funeral?”
Bruno interrupted before Creede and I could go any further with our argument. He was shaking his head. “I don’t recognize her, Celia, and I know most of the upper-level witches.”
John raised his hand, slowly, carefully, and stared from me to Bruno. “Exactly. She’s a four. She works as a secretary for a boring company in a boring town, and not even in a magical capacity. She doesn’t have alias names or hang out in bars. Maybe you saw someone who looks like her. I know this woman. Trust me. And while there were traces of her magical signature in the spell used to attack your memories, I’d swear there were traces from me and at least twelve others who couldn’t possibly have been involved.”
He seemed so confident that it made me wonder if he was right. Could it be a different woman? I mean, they always say everyone has a double somewhere in the world, and there are plenty of lesser demons—who can shape-shift—that were trapped on earth after the rift closed. I let out a slow breath. “I really think it’s her. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. You. Not her.”
Creede dipped his head, acknowledging my effort. “I was trying to reach her before I was attacked. When she calls back I’ll find out if she’s been visiting here. But I doubt it. Since George died, she hasn’t had much to do with me or the company. She wanted to work for one of our companies a few years ago, but George and I both knew she couldn’t command the loyalty of the employees, so he said no. She took it gracefully, took the money he gave her, and went back home. Of course, when he died, she inherited his money, but he left the company to me. She said she was fine with that and I believe her. It’s a demanding business and she doesn’t like working long hours.”
Would losing the company make her bitter? I could see the possibility, but for most people, money heals a lot of wounds. “You’ve talked to her recently?”
He nodded. “A month or so ago. She was fine. Happy and living it up on George’s money.”
Bruno shrugged. “I have to agree. A level four isn’t a powerhouse of talent. And unless she made a demonic pact, I just don’t see it. Plus, from everything I’ve read, most pacts were severed when the rift closed. I’m not saying it’s not possible, but it’s very unlikely. I think we’re dealing with a look-alike, or maybe a spawn. They’re half human, so closing the rift didn’t get rid of them, and some of them can look like anything.”
I still believed it was her, but there was no point in arguing with both of them. So I changed the subject. “How’s the leg feeling? Ready to go to the hospital?”
John let out an exasperated sound. “We already discussed this. I’m not going to the hospital. There’s no need.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stood as tall as I could. “You haven’t moved more than a few millimeters since we’ve been talking and your breathing is wheezy and shallow. Remember, I’ve got sensitive hearing. At the very least, you cracked some ribs. At worst, you’ve punctured a lung. I’m betting if I took off your shirt, I’d find bruises and mysterious lumps over some of your major organs.” I stared at him and he stared back defiantly. “Care to prove me wrong? Take a good deep breath. Or just stand up and walk across the room. If you can without throwing up blood like you did outside, that is.”
The staring match continued until his eyes shifted. Uh-huh.
Bruno let out a little chuckle that was three parts amused and one part worried. “You won’t win this one, Creede. You can’t imagine how stubborn she is on stuff that matters to her. If you want, I’ll drive you and we can go through one of the back entrances. I’ll even introduce you to Dr. Gaetano. He’ll keep it quiet. Plus, you really do want to get tested for the disease. This is a mutated variety. Won’t hurt to get a bump on your vaccine.” He shrugged, then added the thing that sealed the deal. “If they ask, we can say we ran into a group of vampires and took them out. No witnesses, no proof, and no stigma in the press.”
Stuff that matters to her. I didn’t focus on much past that part. He was right. I’d done the same thing to Bruno more than once. Because it mattered … he mattered. Crap.
“I’ve been inoculated.” He gestured to the passport. “And bodyguards don’t get the shit kicked out of them.” It was a lame excuse from John and wasn’t even true.
I let out a rude noise that was close to a raspberry. “Bullcrap. We most certainly do. It’s part of the job. Maybe you lofty mages don’t, but the rest of us regularly get punched and kicked around. We just tend to give as good as we get. This time you didn’t get to.” I smiled and there was a dark edge to it. “But there’s always next time and you can bring friends to the party.”
Bruno likewise smiled dangerously, at my expression and probably at memories of when we’d done just that in the past. Was I willing to kick some tail in retribution for a friend? Sure.
“I suppose it won’t hurt to have the leg X-rayed. There’s still a little stinging going on. Could be a faulty charm.”
I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Stinging was normal until after an hour, which it hadn’t been. But fine. Whatever justification he needed. “Great. You guys take off and I’ll meet you there. I want to change out of these clothes and get some food in me.”
Bruno helped John up and I watched carefully to see if the leg would hold his weight. It did, but I could tell it would be slow going down the stairs. John took a few tentative steps, testing his mobility. I looked at Bruno. “Make sure he hangs on to the rail going down. And go slow.”
He gave me one of his inscrutable looks and then sighed before moving his chair out of John’s way. “We’ll be fine.” He stepped into the hallway with John close on his heels. “C’mon. I’m parked out front.”
That’s when I noticed the small blue book still in my hand. “Wait! Passport.” John took it, but not before giving my fingers a light squeeze.
“Thanks.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes did and I knew that the sentiment was for more than just the papers. “See you soon.”
“Yep.”
I listened to their slow descent while I got out of my bloody clothing in the bathroom. I was going to have to burn the clothes. Nobody’d told me to, but it just made sense, and they were ruined anyway. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Bruno was wearing borrowed scrubs. My braid was still hanging in there with the exception of a few strands. Still, it felt weird, so I took out the band and bobby pins and brushed it out. Soft waves framed my face and actually looked pretty good. Different, but good.