Part 6 (1/2)

”I'll be OK,” I said, slipping into my jacket and staggering toward my tool bag. ”I just need to take things slowly. Well, as slowly as I can, which isn't very slow at all, but what the h.e.l.l. Spider can just deal with me being a little late.”

”You are going to clean a house?” Cardea asked, panic rising in her pretty green eyes. Her hands fluttered around helplessly. ”Oh, I couldn't leave here; I just couldn't!”

”Someone must take her,” Sergei insisted. ”She isn't safe to drive as she is.”

”But ... I couldn't ... so many people...”

”Deus! I'll drive!” Pixie s.n.a.t.c.hed the keys from the hall table, grabbing her cape and a black leather messenger bag before stalking toward the garage.

Sergei frowned. ”You're not old enough to drive, are you?”

”Hel- lo! Driver's ed? I so pa.s.sed that months ago,” she told him with an impatient gesture.

”Do you have a license?” I asked, unable to believe I was seriously considering letting her drive me anywhere.

”I had the highest score in the cla.s.s,” she said, tossing her head.

”Which means you don't have a license.” I sighed. I'd just have to get myself to the house on my own.

”I have a permit! It says I can drive with an adult present, and since you're, like, ancient, that means I can drive you.”

I hesitated, weighing the h.e.l.l it would be driving myself against the concern of bringing Pixie with me to an environment that was hostile, if not downright dangerous.

”Come on, Karma,” she said, her dark eyes curiously vulnerable. ”I'm a good driver. My last foster mom used to have me drive her to the liquor store all the time.”

I winced. ”All right. But only on my conditions!” I said, holding her back when she leaped for the door leading to the garage. ”You have to promise me you'll do as I say when we get to the house. If Spider or any of the ghost people are around, keep your cape on. d.a.m.n, I wish I'd thought of sending my dad out for a glamour.”

”Mrs. Beckett says glamours give you brain cancer if you use them too much.”

”That's just an old wives' tale.” I fretted for a few moments more about taking Pixie with me but didn't see a way around it.

”Do you think the flower chick would freak out at a real live polter?” she asked, waving her arms around in an exaggerated manner.

”I have no idea how she or the other ghost hunters would react. Some people have no issues with the Otherworld; others refuse to believe the truth.

Until I can judge which group they fall into, I want you to keep a low profile.”

”Maximus deus!” she swore, rolling her eyes. ”Fine! Have it your way! I'll keep my cape on, OK?”

”OK,” I said, going against my better judgment. I kept one hand on the wall for support as I walked to the car.

”It's automatic, right? I can't drive a stick. My foster dad was going to show me how, but he was arrested for DUI.”

”What lovely people they must have been,” I murmured, then gave her instructions on where we were headed.

To my surprise, Sergei followed us.

”You need me,” Sergei said by way of explanation.

”I do?”

”I would come with you, but I have all this pantry rearranging to do,”

Cardea called from the doorway, giving us a little wave. ”Have fun!”

”You need me,” Sergei repeated, s.h.i.+mmering into nothing as he melted into the backseat of the car.

There wasn't much I could say to that. I didn't have the energy to fight a determined spirit, so I gave in with as much grace as I could muster. Before we reached the car, the phone rang. I hesitated, looking at the garage phone for a moment, a.s.sessing my need to leave against the possibility of a phone call I shouldn't miss. ”Just a second, guys. I'd better see who it is.”

”Probably your father,” Sergei said as I picked up the phone. ”He called earlier and left a message saying he wanted to see you immediately.”

”Karma? I forbid you to go out to that house,” my father said even before I could say h.e.l.lo.

”Dad, I really don't have time for this. I'm late, and I have a killer headache.”

”It's payback for what you're about to do,” he snapped.

”I'm sorry; I really have to go. Can we have this argument another time?”

”No! This is important, Karma. I can't let you destroy any more spirits!

It's wrong-wrong on a cosmic scale. I will not have a daughter of mine being the angel of death!”

I would have rolled my eyes at my father's dramatics but didn't have the energy. ”I'm hanging up now. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

”I'm coming out to the house!”

”Like h.e.l.l you are! Spider will have the hissy fit to end all hissy fits if he sees you there. Not to mention ghost hunters are going to be there. Just stay home, and we'll work it out tomorrow.”

”Don't do anything until I get there and can talk some reason into you!”

he shouted into the phone as I hung up the receiver and turned to face three inquisitive expressions.

”Honestly, there are times when I wish I could divorce my father. Pixie, I need to get to the Walsh house as fast as legally possible.”

”Obsidian Angel!”

”Sorry.” I took the pa.s.senger seat, buckling myself in as I s.h.i.+ed away from the thought of what Spider would have to say about my father's showing up.

”Let's see ... R for 'forward'?” Pixie started the car and immediately hit the accelerator. We shot backward into a series of shelves that lined the back wall of the garage, boxes of Christmas decorations perched on the beams overhead tumbling down onto the car.

I glared at her. ”R for forward?”

”Heh-heh. Little joke.” She smiled. I continued to glare until she made a face and put the car into the proper gear.

”I will clean it later,” Sergei rea.s.sured me as I slowly turned to look out the back window at the spilled garlands of gold and silver, the tinsel fluttering to the ground on either side of the car, and the soft stuffed Santa that tangled itself on the car's antenna. The shelves looked a little worse for wear, but not totally destroyed.