“It was better than an office job. I wish I could have had more time with my husband. I wish I could have given Ronnie a more stable life. But do I regret helping the people I helped? Never. Dying sucked, but it was bound to happen eventually. I’d seen enough not to fear it.”
“I get that.” I picked up a magnifying glass and began examining a whisker I’d snipped from the cat. It was in its own Mason jar, with the same additional spells I’d put around Slimey. The whisker and Slimey had the same alienwrongness, but the stuff from the cat hadn’t moved. I hoped that meant it had no life of its own.
“I dodged death more times than I can remember. This is death’s revenge: losing myself day after day, year after year. Fading until there’s nothing left.” I shook myself. “Listen to me, complaining about my life to a woman who had hers cut short.”
“Your life isn’t all bad, you know. If you died, you’d never get to finish that cheesecake on the corner of your desk that you forgot about. I do miss the physical sensations. Eating and drinking, hugging my son, feeling the snow on my face...”
I set my magnifying glass aside and opened my book. The house lent me what strength it could spare. Its approval made me smile. It liked her, too.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll tell you after I make sure I can still do it.” I traced an invisible line through the air, then tossed one end like a fisherman casting his line.
“That tickled.”
My smile grew. I picked up the fork, cut a small piece of cheesecake, and brought it to my mouth.
“Sweet mother of god!”
The cheesecake was tasteless in my mouth, nothing but lukewarm gel and dry crumbs. I’d tweaked a spell designed to share one’s senses. I knew the tangy, creamy sweetness of my cheesecake, and now, so did Margaret.
I swallowed, licked my lips, and as innocently as I could, asked, “Another bite?”
“Temple Finn, I don’t want to hear one more word from you until you’ve eaten every crumb on that plate.”
Maybe Margaret was right. Maybe my life wasn’t all bad . . .
“You feel it, don’t you? The call of R’gngyk. The magic simmering in your flesh, ready to awaken. It’s time for you all to embrace R’gngyk’s power. Meet me in two hours for the final ritual.”
CHAPTER 22
Jenny
Annette had texted and filled me in before leaving Alex’s pirate-themed lair, so I wasn’t surprised when she walked in the door with a hearth devil in tow. The two gaping wounds in the hearth devil’s chest were unexpected, though.
“His name’s Hob,” said Annette. “Alex stabbed him with cheap steel to shut him up. He’ll be fine.”
I wondered if she’d brought Hob along as a shield, knowing that shoving a patient at me was the one guaranteed way to quash my anger. Hob’s breathing was steady. Both stab wounds were partly scabbed over. He didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger. I pointed at him and said, “Kitchen. Sit, wait, and don’t touch anything.”
I heard Ronnie coming up the hall behind me. Without looking, I said, “Get the first aid kit and keep an eye on Hob.”
Hob snorted. “I guess we know who wears the strap-on in this house.”
“In a minute, I’m going to come in there to clean and close those holes in your torso,” I said. “I can flush them with saline or I can flush them with holy water. Your choice.”
“Damn, lady.” He held up both hands and retreated toward Ronnie. “I’ll just hang with the kid until you’re ready.”
As soon as they were gone, I turned to Annette.
“Before you say anything—”
“Shut up.” All the fear and anger and helplessness of the past hour burned through my veins like steam. I looked her over. She’d been moving gingerly, but I didn’t see much blood. “Is anything broken?”
“I don’t think so. Look, I know—”
I raised a hand. Her jaw snapped shut. I took a long, slow breath, until I was certain I could listen without losing my temper. “Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I fucked up. I know what you’re thinking. If I hadn’t been so stupid and reckless and impatient, we could have stopped Alex together. It’s my fault he got away.”
