Part 23 (1/2)

”Stay inside,” he said again. The door clicked shut.

I stood in the spot where he'd left me, listening to the sounds of his neighbors drifting through the walls. d.a.m.n, this is really happening. I was on the run from Faerie.

I felt the need to do something, to prepare or retaliate. But there was nothing I could do but wait.

Well, I can at least tell my housemates what's going on. Not that I'd tell them not to worry about me because I was definitely worried about me, but maybe they'd have some suggestions of how to get out of this. Caleb, at least, might have some idea.

I dug through my purse, searching by feel for the cool plastic case of my phone. Finally I found it. There would be no dialing blind, but my eyes had been an issue often enough that I'd purchased the phone knowing this could happen. I traced my fingers along the edge until I found one of the few nontouch screen b.u.t.tons on the phone.

”Call Caleb,” I said, speaking as clearly as I could for the voice-recognition software. A moment later the phone beeped as it dialed.

The phone rang seven times, and just as I was sure it would switch to voice mail, Caleb's voice answered on the other end.

”Thank goodness. The FIB are after me. They plan to drag me to Faerie and-”

”No, I'm sorry, Holly isn't here right now,” Caleb said, cutting me off.

What? Oh, no. ”Are they there? At the house?” ”Yeah. She said something about a headache and went to lie down, but she must have felt better because she left shortly after. I haven't seen her since.”

My heart, already hammering in my chest, dropped. ”Caleb, is Holly missing?”

”Yeah, a letter? I found it. Her bed, sure.”

A letter? It must have been important or he wouldn't have mentioned it.

I stopped talking, my throat too tight to pa.s.s words, but my part of the conversation wasn't important anyway. Caleb paused for a moment, as if listening to someone on my end of the line; then he said, ”I don't know if I'll be here when she gets back, but if I see her, I'll tell her.”

Didn't know if he'd be there? Oh, f.u.c.k, they were going to haul Caleb to Faerie. Agent Nori had threatened that acquaintances with independent fae were dangerous, but I'd thought she meant dangerous to me, not to my friends.

”What should I do?” I whispered the question around the lump clogging my throat.

Caleb was silent for a long moment before saying, ”Good luck.” Then he disconnected.

Chapter 24.

I paced around Falin's apartment, my s.h.i.+ns occasionally sc.r.a.ping this odd bit or my hands. .h.i.tting that one. It was a good thing he didn't have much furniture.

I still clutched my phone, but I had no one left to call. Holly wasn't answering, Caleb was on his way to Faerie, and Tamara's phone was off, presumably because she was sleeping.

”What do I do now?” I asked the darkness hanging over my eyes.

As if in answer, a loud metallic groan cried out behind me. I turned slowly, trying to identify the sound, but the only thing I could compare it to was the scream of an overtaxed support beam. Maybe the building is settling? I wasn't sure I wanted to be on the seventh floor if the building was making noises like that. Another creak sounded, this time followed by a loud pop.

What are the chances this isn't bad?

I tore down my s.h.i.+elds, blinking at the explosion of color and light as I saw the world through my psyche. I glanced around, orienting myself as best I could in the suddenly crumbling landscape. I was in front of the large sliding gla.s.s door that led out onto a balcony-a balcony currently groaning under the weight of two ma.s.sive paws that led up to muscular legs as thick around as my torso and covered in tan fur. But though the fur suggested mammal, when the front legs landed, they were hairless and ended in talons, like a bird. Huge feathered wings beat the air, blocking the sun. Folding the sixteen-plus wingspan against its back, the beast hopped off the rail and ducked its ma.s.sive eagle-shaped head under the base of the upstairs balcony.

Gryphon.

Or at least it looked like a gryphon. It was a magical construct, definitely. Its outline s.h.i.+fted slightly, its form slightly unreal, but where the other constructs had been misty outlines-this one looked more . . . congealed. I guess I found the missing souls.

Now I wished they would leave again.

The gryphon smashed one ma.s.sive paw through the door. The gla.s.s shattered in an explosion of sound and shards of glittering shrapnel. I ducked, clutching my arms over my head, but the deadly part wasn't the flying gla.s.s. It was the d.a.m.n gryphon.

It screeched as it tore at the metal support bar. That's not going to hold it back for long. I glanced at the front door. I could run. Having to tear through the building would slow it down, but I was guessing it had another tracking charm tied to me. If I ran, it would find me, and who knew how many people would get hurt in the process? Plus, the d.a.m.n thing could fly-if I left the building I'd make myself an easier target. At least inside the building it wouldn't be able to swoop down on me.

But I can't just stand here.

I pulled my dagger. It buzzed in my senses, excited about the prospect of being used. I frowned and glanced from it to the gryphon. I had a five-inch enchanted blade and it had talons as long as my forearm and reach to go with them. But it's not real.

But it wasn't completely unreal either.

I stumbled back as one giant taloned foot swiped at me. The creature shoved its arm all the way to the shoulder through the busted doorway, and in the part of my vision peering into the land of the dead, the ma.s.s of s.h.i.+mmering souls twisted. A face floated to the surface, a face caught in a never-ending scream, and one I recognized. The skimmer from the rift.

I didn't have time to stare. The gryphon stuck its head through the s.p.a.ce where the sliding gla.s.s door had been, wriggling to get that taloned foot closer to me. Tell me it's stuck.

I've never been that lucky.

It wriggled more, making enough room for its other foot. d.a.m.n. I looked down at the dagger in my hand again. That thing will tear me to pieces before I get anywhere near close enough to do damage. The dagger didn't agree. I could feel that it thought we'd be fine. I wasn't as confident, and I was the one with the rendable skin. The dagger wasn't a good option. What else did I have?

The skimmer's face was still screaming silently as it stared out of the gryphon's shoulder. Being able to see souls had always creeped me out. They were s.h.i.+mmery, full of light, and looked so tempting to touch. Typically a bad idea, but maybe . . .

I reached into the creature with the part of me that touched the dead. There was more than just the skimmer in that congealed soul mist, but he was the one I could see, could focus on. Centering my magic on the little bit of the skimmer I could see, I pulled with my power.

Souls don't like the touch of the grave. It's unnatural for them. They are what make a person alive, and the grave is for the dead. But these souls were already outside their bodies and more ghost than not. I pulled, pouring power into the effort. The unearthly wind of the land of the dead whipped around me, mail blew off the table and whirled around the room, the cus.h.i.+ons on the couch rumpled, billowing in the onslaught, and the gryphon's feathers quivered around its head. Still I pulled, and like warm salt.w.a.ter taffy being tugged on, the soul peeled away from the rest of the soul mist.

As the soul separated from the ma.s.s, the gryphon shrank, as if the construct couldn't support its ma.s.sive size with its diminished energy source. The gryphon shrinking was definitely good-except that it was now small enough to fit through the door.

It hurtled forward, its talons grasping for me. I dove sideways, the air rus.h.i.+ng out of me as I hit the ground. And people on TV make it look so easy. The skimmer soul I'd freed hovered in the air, looking confused as he blinked at me. Then his eyes landed on the gryphon and he screamed.

”Don't just scream. Help me. Distract it!”

Shades have to obey me. Ghosts don't and he didn't.

The gryphon was still large enough that it had trouble turning in the tight s.p.a.ce in the small apartment, which bought me a couple of seconds. I used them. Thrusting with my power, I grabbed another soul in the mist. I wasn't being picky. I just grabbed and heaved. I poured power into the mist, and another soul, this one an older woman I was pretty sure I'd seen at the morgue, jettisoned free.

The gryphon shrank again. We were now the same height. Of course, it still had two long-taloned front legs and a razor-sharp beak, so it wasn't exactly an even fight, but it was at least closer.

It lunged at me, that sharp beak open as it screeched in rage. I dropped, intending to roll out of its way. Unfortunately, my coordination wasn't quite up to the task. I ended up under the gryphon as its talons pierced the couch. The sharp claws on its back feet were dangerously close to my face, but the position did give me an un.o.bstructed view of its belly.

The dagger in my hand buzzed, urging me to move, and I thrust the enchanted blade into the soft skin under the gryphon's rib cage. A shock ran up my arm as I encountered muscles harder to pierce than I'd expected, but the dagger sank to the hilt. ”You don't exist,” I told it, twisting the dagger to drive the blade deeper.