Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            Slowly the door arced shut.

            There was a big hole in the room where Walter had once been. I stood against the window, afraid to cross into the space. It felt chancy, like walking over a new grave.

            “Where are they taking him?” Cassie said, and I jumped.

            “A lead-lined room deep underground. It will cut off his access to the ley lines. Possibly reset the curse.” I winced, shoulders high. “It might save him, but we won’t ever get the name of the mage.”

            Cassie inched forward. I didn’t understand the light of hope in her eyes. “Can we do that to my people?” she asked, and I stared, not understanding for a moment.

            “Oh. No,” I said, finally figuring out her mental gymnastics. “The curse on Walter was a no-divulge curse. The chakra curse works differently. Um, I have to go,” I added, shaken by the empty room. I’d seen it before, the sudden commotion followed by a long quiet. A place where someone had been, had talked, had laughed, had cried, was suddenly empty. They never came back.

            “I need to go,” I said again, softer. Fear I had thought long vanquished was twining about my heart. It was old, and dark, dirty with cobwebs and neglect. “The girls are waiting for me.”

            “I’ll stay,” Glenn said. His expression was closed, and I wondered if he had seen an empty room, too, or if he’d been hustled into the hallway, kept apart while his mother died.

            “Rachel, you mind if I come with you?” David asked, and I reached for my bag and held it close as if it was one of the stuffed animals from my childhood. I hate hospitals.

            “Um, sure.” I glanced at Cassie, seeing this was a surprise to her, too.

            “I want to make sure Lucy and Ray aren’t afraid of Weres,” he added, and Cassie bent to give him a kiss, her hand tracing his jawline as she searched his face. She was looking for the focus. It was still there but again hidden.

            “I’ll stay with Detective Glenn,” she said. “I’ll let you know if he pulls through.”

            Head tilting up, David reached for her, and they kissed again, long and lingering, full of promise and connection. “See you tonight,” he whispered as they parted.

            I moved behind him and made sure the wheels were unlocked. “Let me know, too, ’kay?”

            Glenn nodded, his head bowed in a needless guilt. There was no way he could have guessed Walter had been under a no-divulge spell. Besides, Walter had intentionally triggered it.

            I shoved the door open with my foot, taking a deep, cleansing breath as we found the hall. The air was cooler and my pace fast. Three interns were gossiping at the desk, their attention following us as we came to the elevators and stopped. Tense, I smacked the down button. Ow . . .

            David took a deep breath and lurched upright, shocking me as I scrambled to keep the chair from rolling. “What are you doing?” I said as he put a steadying hand against the wall.

            “Ditching the chair. I was only in it so Cassie would stop bitching at me.”

            “No, you aren’t. Sit. You’re too heavy for me to catch.”

            David frowned, and I shrugged, pointing until he sat back down. I didn’t like wheelchairs, either, but I liked hitting the floor less. Get a grip, Rachel. You aren’t a frightened little girl anymore. Walter is not your friend, and if he dies, your life will be easier. “Can we take your car? I came in a cab,” I said, trying to change where my thoughts were going.

            The elevator pinged, and I rolled him in.

            “Sure.” David tapped the button from his chair and the doors closed. “But I’m driving.”

            “Yeah?” I questioned, even as I felt that flicker of fear quiver and grow: sudden change, empty space, a loss you couldn’t replace. Grimacing, I shoved the sensation down as I always did.

            But the fear was not going out. Not this time.





CHAPTER


            14

            David’s gray sports car bumped over the flattened grass, slow because of the ruts. The sleek icon was out of place amid the SUVs and vans, and that along with the wheelchair hanging out of the open trunk had gotten us into the front lot instead of the back forty of Andie’s Apples. We were surprisingly close to the main building, and I eased the car to a halt, appalled at the pandemonium of the cider mill on a beautiful Friday afternoon a week before Halloween.