Part 6 (1/2)

”There's nothing,” said Carson. ”I looked.” He set down the tray and peered over my shoulder. In another situation, his breath on my ear would have been very distracting.

”You're blocking the light,” I said, though really I just needed him to step away so I could concentrate. There was something. My psyche caught the whiff of dirt and ash and the hollow sound of metal and stone. I needed both hands, so I looped the strand of pearls around my neck. Then I reached into the safe, feeling along the shelves and sides.

I tapped on the back and it rang hollow. With a press of my fingers, a panel slid away, and a cold piece of metal fell into my hand. The psychic vibration ran up my arm like a live current and knocked me backward into Carson, who caught me around the waist as the object fell to the carpet with a heavy thunk.

”Honestly,” said Mrs. Hardwicke, tutting in disapproval, ”the way you girls throw yourselves into a man's arms these days. No finesse.”

With a little groan, I struggled to get my feet under me. ”Next time I'll try for a dignified swoon.”

”What was that?” Carson asked, steadying me until I stopped wobbling.

I gestured to the floor. There lay an old-fas.h.i.+oned key, about five inches long including the st.u.r.dy filigree on the end. ”Alexis hid that. It must be important.”

”No, I mean that jolt you got,” he said, still hovering. ”Are you okay?”

”Fine.” Waving off his concern, I crouched to retrieve the key but first had to work up the nerve to touch it again.

”Let me,” said Carson, grabbing it before I could. He held it up to catch the lamplight on its dull bronze surface. ”I'm guessing this has got some ghostly kick to it?”

Mrs. Hardwicke's shade peered over our shoulders, a very human move. ”Well, it should,” she said. ”It's the key to a mausoleum.”

I turned to her in surprise. ”How do you know?”

She sniffed, and went to her ”foolish mortals” tone. ”Because it's the key to my mausoleum, of course.”

Long-standing remnants could be awfully pragmatic about their state of being. It made a nice but startling change from the recently dead wig-out by Bruiser's shade.

”What now?” Carson asked, sounding frustrated with the one-sided conversation.

I blinked him into focus and he raised his brows to reiterate his impatience. Ingrate.

”You are very pushy.” I stalled, because knowledge was gold and I was still processing this nugget. ”Agent Taylor never rushes me while I work.”

He gave a satisfying twitch of annoyance, then held up the key between us. ”What. Is. This?”

Alexis had hidden the key from everyone-including Maguire. That was important. So whatever the key opened-the mausoleum-had to be important, too.

”What sort of girl-detective game are you playing, young lady?” demanded Mrs. Hardwicke as the silence lengthened. Her aura was keen and protective. ”I've seen this young man”-she nodded at Carson-”with Alexis. But who are you?”

Behind Carson was the picture from the sorority dance, and I saw that Alexis was wearing the pearls. That explained how Mrs. Hardwicke had seen him-she seemed to be tied to the jewelry. Otherwise she would have called to me as soon as I entered the room.

”I'm here to help Alexis,” I told Mrs. Hardwicke. That was the rock-bottom truth. There was no debate about whose side I was on. Maguire had bound me, but Alexis was my priority.

Where did Carson fit into that? He was still waiting for me to answer him about the key. Where was his loyalty?

Before I could answer him, something caught his attention. If a guy could p.r.i.c.k up his ears like a dog, Carson would have alerted like a Doberman pinscher.

With startling speed, he palmed the key and shoved the tray of jewelry into my hands. ”Stow that and close the safe,” he ordered in a murmur, then stepped around me, heading across the suite just as the door flew open.

”The cavalry is here.” Lauren's voice carried around the bookcase that hid me, and the safe, from view. ”Time for Elvis to leave the building.”

9.

I COULDN'T EXPLAIN why I jumped to do what Carson said, except that I trusted Lauren less than I trusted him. Blocked from her view, I whisked the velvet-lined tray into the safe. I started to put the pearls back as well, but Mrs. Hardwicke's voice stopped me.

”Take me with you.”

What? I asked her silently, my hand poised at the back of my neck. Why?

”I know what you are,” she said, in a weird mix of plea and direct order. ”You must help Alexis. I can help you do that.”

From the other side of the suite I heard Carson say to Lauren, ”It took them longer than I thought to get a warrant.”

He meant the FBI, and a lightning strike of hope lit my heart. Agent Taylor-the cavalry-was on his way.

I closed the safe and swung the painting to cover it, my brain running double time. If Lauren's spell was working, Taylor still thought I was asleep on that smelly couch in the office. I needed to give him some kind of heads-up. Not for myself, but for my family. If anything happened to me, he would have to protect them from Maguire.

Could I leave him a clue and get my message across? Taylor hadn't ever shown any sign of ESP, but he had instincts that were almost as good. While I had the chance, I unlooped the pearls from around my neck and unfastened the chain I was wearing in the same movement. The pearls I slipped into my skirt pocket, feeling Grandmama Hardwicke fade to a bare psychic stirring. My own necklace and pendant I hid in my hand, just as Lauren called to me.

”Stop stalling, Red,” she snapped. ”If you haven't found anything by now, you're not going to.”

I dropped the necklace-Saint Gertrude's medal gleaming up at me-beside the bureau and hoped the detectives were thorough in their search. Then I hurried toward the door before Lauren or Carson came looking for me.

”Where are we going?” I asked warily. Maguire needed to stash me while the FBI was there, and I did not put it past him to have a dungeon.

”Out,” said Carson, giving me a nudge.

I followed Lauren into the hall. Carson lagged behind, and I hoped he still had the mausoleum key. Surely he would know it was important even if I hadn't yet told him why.

”You two are going to check Alexis's dorm room again,” Lauren told me. ”Just don't get caught. You can't find Alexis if you're in federal custody.”

”Thank you, Captain Obvious,” said Carson, sliding out of the bedroom and closing the door firmly. Lauren gave him a talk-to-the-hand wave and disappeared to tend to her own duties, which worried me for Taylor's sake. She'd better not put another spell on him.

Carson, meanwhile, took my arm and hustled me toward a back staircase, which led down to an enormous kitchen. Bertram was waiting with two coats and a set of keys. ”It's got a full tank,” said the butler, ”and a six-pack of soda in the back, as you requested.”

”Thanks, Bertram.” Carson pocketed the car keys and slipped into one of the coats. He grabbed the second one, and when I didn't move fast enough, wrapped it around me and shoved me toward the back door.

We froze at a sound from the front of the house-one of the goons answering the door, then the familiar murmur of Agent Taylor's voice and the harder crack of Gerard's demand.

I drew a breath to yell to him. Drew it, held it, my tongue making the T in Taylor. Then the geas jerked on my leash with boot-to-the-chest force. My shout came out as nothing but air and a grunting wheeze.

Black fireworks splashed over my vision as I tried to make my diaphragm work, to pull breath back into my lungs. I grabbed at a wall to keep from falling over, but it turned out to be Carson. ”Daisy?” he asked, sounding genuinely alarmed.

This was why Maguire had bound me to a task I would have done freely. I couldn't call out to the agents because they would stop me from looking for Alexis. If Taylor didn't s.h.i.+p me back to Texas for my safety, Gerard would arrest me for interfering with a federal investigation.

By accident I staggered toward the door, and the iron band around my chest loosened. I took another step and was able to gasp, ”Let's go.”