“Dawna…” I started to ask specifically what was wrong, but she waved me to silence.
“I can’t talk about it. I just can’t. If I do, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to do that. So don’t ask.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“You know that if you need anything—” I said, but she interrupted me.
“I know. Emma said the same thing. But it’s stuff I have to deal with by myself.” She smiled, and it had almost her usual level of warmth. “Maybe soon we can have some peace and quiet. I’d love to go to the spa again. I need some girl time.”
“Sounds like a plan. Make reservations for the three of us for next weekend.”
“You think this will be over by next weekend?”
“It’ll be over on the full moon. One way or another.”
Put that way, it sounded ominous. She turned her head, giving me a look. “Celie?”
“I’m fine. Really.” I was lying, and Dawna probably knew it, but there was no time to call me on it. We’d arrived at the car rental place. I jumped out of the vehicle—much easier than climbing up—then opened the back door to rummage through the box she’d stowed there. The checkbook was on top. I signed a bunch of checks. I trusted Dawna, and I had no idea how long we’d be in crisis mode. Better for her to have them on hand. That done, I stuck my siren ring back into place on my finger and slid the very special knives Bruno had made for me into the wrist sheaths. I had to suppress a shudder as I slid them home. The memory of how they’d last been used was horrible. I pulled my jacket back on a little hurriedly, wanting the knives out of sight.
“You have your phone?” Dawna asked, turning around in the seat so we could see each other’s faces.
“Yeah.”
“Well, keep it handy. I’ll be staying in touch now that I’ve got the number—especially if something goes wrong.”
“Right,” I agreed. “And Dawna…” I paused, trying to find the right words. I wanted to thank her. But more than that, I really wanted to just talk with her. I could tell there was something going on with her. As a friend, I knew I should ask what. But there was so damned much on my plate right now.
Her smile was a little bit sad. “It’s okay, Celia. I’ll be fine. I’ll make the reservations at the spa, we’ll have plenty of time to talk then. But if I’m not driving you to Furnace Creek, I need to get the Humvee back to Chris before he blows a gasket.”
She was right, of course. But that didn’t make me feel better about it. I hesitated.
“Go!” she ordered, making a shooing gesture.
“Fine, I’m going.” I waited a beat, then said, “Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She grinned, and while it didn’t have the wattage of her usual smile, it was still a real grin. “Believe me, I know.”
Smiling, I slammed the door and stepped aside so that she’d have plenty of room to maneuver her way out of the parking lot. I watched her until she was out of sight.
It didn’t take long to get a new rental—an SUV not unlike the last one, only in blue. Normally I’m more of a sports car kind of gal, but on the off chance I’d have to ferry people, I figured bigger was better. Like the previous vehicle, it was set up for a hands-free phone. Before I pulled out of the rental place’s lot, I called the hospital.
Isaac had been moved to a regular private room after his surgery. He was listed as being in stable condition. Stable was good—especially since it wasn’t “stable but critical.” Given the shape he’d been in when he was found, it was very good indeed. His age worked against him, but I knew he was tough. I believed he’d pull through.
The nurse told me that Gilda had fallen asleep in the chair beside Isaac’s bed and that Isaac was sedated, so I just asked her to leave word that I’d called and said I’d be in touch again later.
Then, before I could forget, I ordered flowers for him.
That done, I had the GPS do a search for Finn Billiards. In a matter of seconds I had directions.
Visiting Finn Senior hadn’t been a rousing success, but I’d learned a few things and set the authorities onto a few more. Maybe I’d have even better luck talking to his son, Jack.
Assuming I survived.
26
On a good day, with the wind up your tailpipe, the drive between Santa Maria de Luna and Los Angeles is just under two hours. This was not that day. Sitting, unmoving, in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I turned on the radio just long enough to hear that there’d been a huge wreck somewhere up the line. Ugh. At least I would have plenty of time to finally finish reading all the material Anna had sent me while I waited for things to start moving again. And maybe figure out my next steps.
Bubba was right. We couldn’t hide Michelle forever. From Anna’s research and my conversation with Isaac, I knew that Finn would need to use the power of the full moon to pull off his curse. Being thorough (and knowing it would interest me), Anna had also sent some more esoteric information about how blood curses work.
First, the person laying the curse needs a bio sample, usually blood, from someone with a DNA link to all the prospective victims. Then you need power—natural talent and the full moon would cover that. Finn was a powerful mage to begin with, and he’d spent close to two decades behind bars: years of not having to expend magical energy on much of anything. He had a lot of banked power to draw on, I’d expect.
Unless you were totally sure you had the right bio sample, you probably would make a preemptive strike against your first target. That explained why Michelle had been shot but not killed. Once you were certain you had the right sample, you used it to send the curse through the chosen individual and from him or her to everyone linked biologically.
The only way to stop a blood curse is to remove the link. In other words, if I wanted to save the Finns, I could do that by killing Michelle.
So not my goal.
I had turned off the engine to conserve fuel, but the heat was getting to me, so I started the car, turned on the AC, and pondered while I crawled a whopping six feet before stopping again.
I needed to break the link without killing Michelle. Not because breaking the link would save Connor Finn or his son, but because breaking the link would save Michelle. If the curse couldn’t “recognize” her from the bio sample, it couldn’t affect her.
When I’d first been bitten, the bio controls of my office safe hadn’t recognized me and I’d had to use the “pregnancy override” to get in—a convoluted process that the safe’s builders had come up with which allowed the safe to recognize the change in my biology—for nine months. Obviously the answer was not to get Michelle preggers or have her attacked by bats! But maybe we should try coming up with something that would change her enough to make the blood sample identification fail.
As an idea, that had promise. But how?
On impulse, I called Chris at the Company, the huge, private paramilitary company with fingers in pies all over the world. He answered on the first ring. “Gaetano here.”
“Hey, Chris.”
“Oh, it’s you.” His voice went flat and cold.
Wow, talk about your warm welcomes. Could he be any less enthusiastic? “You know, once upon a time we were friends. What happened?”
“I got to know you better.”
Ouch. Bastard.
“What do you want, Graves? I’m busy here.”
“It’s a business call. I want to hire you. Who do I talk to and what’s the daily rate?”