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I squeezed his hand. "I do."
Heartfelt vows of vengeance are easy to make, but rarely easy to carry out. I roared back into hunt
mode, ready to track down this demon-bitch and send her soul to the deepest, darkest hell I could find.
Instead, I found myself billeted to Lizzie Borden's living room, while Trsiel hung out with Amanda
Sullivan.
Trsiel did his best to placate me, reminding me that so long as Amanda Sullivan saw nothing, the Nix
wasn't in the living world. Fat lot of reassurance that was the last time Sullivan saw a vision, it'd taken
less than six hours for the Nix to persuade her partner to act less than six hours before three people
were dead.
I couldn't imagine how she'd accomplished that finding a partner so quickly. Not just any partner, but
one who would be in the same building as my daughter that day. Was it that easy to find someone with a
motive for murder? Someone who lacked only the guts to follow through on their impulses?
Trsiel's theory was that the Nix hadn't been nearly as surprised to find me tracking her as she'd
pretended, that she'd known I'd been on her trail, found out who I was, and scouted a few potential
partners in the periphery of Savannah's life, women she could leap into if I got too close and needed a
demonstration of her power.
There was no way I was hanging out with Lizzie Borden, not while I still had leads to pursue. We'd
questioned Luther Ross, but I still felt as if I'd missed something there, some insight into the Nix and her
motivations. Ross had said he hadn't known why she'd come to his school, and I doubted he was lying,
but if I asked the right questions, maybe I could figure out her motive for myself.
Before we'd left Luther Ross, Kris had given him a "safe house" transportation code, sending him to a
remote location where he could lie low and, more importantly, where we could track him down if need
be. Now I wanted to speak to him again. So as soon as Trsiel dropped me off at Lizzie's house, I did a
quick check-in with her, then zipped off after Kristof.
Chapter 29
I FOUND KRISTOF IN HIS OFFICE AT THE COURTHOUSE, talking to a toga-clad client. The
moment I peeked around the corner, Kris scuttled his client off.
"I need to find a certain nymphomaniac," I said, perching on the edge of his desk.
"Nymph ?" Kris laughed. "Ah, and never has that word been more apt. Mr. Ross, I presume."
"So where'd you tuck him away?"
Kris's fingers closed over mine. "Let me show you."
We touched down in a field of white. For a second, I thought the Fates had diverted us to a throne-room
waiting area. Then I saw a distant line of trees and, behind them, a mountain range. As I turned to look
for Kristof, the ground under my sneaker crunched like broken glass. I knelt and reached down. My
fingers sank into something soft and faintly cold.
A white ball struck my shoulder, and exploded on contact. I looked over my shoulder to see Kristof
packing a second missile.
"Throw that at your peril."
The snowball glanced off the top of my head, showering me with snow. I glared at him, spun on my heel,
and started to march away. As I walked, I cast a blur spell. The last words left my mouth, then I
wheeled, raced behind Kristof, and knocked him flying off his feet. When he hit the ground, I jumped on
his back and rubbed his face in the snow.
He sputtered, bucked, and managed to flip me off his back. We tussled for a few minutes, both armed
with fistfuls of snow, trying unsuccessfully to give the other a face-washing. Finally, we fell onto our
backs, laughing.
Overhead was a faint greenish arch. As I watched, other threads of colored light appeared, reds and
blues and yellows, dancing and weaving against the black sky.
"Are you doing that?" I asked.
"Wish I could take credit. It's the Northern Lights."
"Wow."
For a few minutes, we watched the lights dance. The night was so silent I could hear the distant crackle
of breaking ice and the occasional hoot of an owl. The air was pleasantly cool, like a brisk fall day.
"So where are we?" I murmured, reluctant to disturb the quiet.
"Remember that witch barmaid in La Ceiba? Said the pirate town was like "
"Alaska without the snow." I choked back a laugh. "You sent Luther Ross to Alaska?"
Kristof tilted his head to the side. "You don't think he'll like it?"
"Naughty boy. We'll be lucky if he'll talk to us after this." I looked back up at the sky. "So how come you
never brought me here?"
"I was saving it. For a special occasion, I guess." Another glance my way. "You like it?"
I closed my eyes. I could still see the Northern Lights dancing. "Mmm. You'll have to bring me back."
His fingers found mine, enclosing them in a sudden surge of warmth. "I will."
A shout, and we bolted upright. I concentrated and the darkness lifted enough for me to make out two
orange jackets moving from a stand of trees.
"Never shoot anything around here," a man said, voice carrying in the stillness. "The drop-off point's
there, remember? That's fine welcome for a new visitor getting shot the moment he touches down."
"But I saw something over there," a younger voice said. "In the woods, not near the drop-off."
"Doesn't matter. You don't shoot anywhere near here."
Kristof leaned toward my ear. "Time to make some new friends. See if they've encountered your
pedagogically inclined nymphomaniac." He pushed to his feet. "Hullo!"
The older voice hailed him and two hands rose in greeting. As I brushed the snow from my jeans, the
men approached. Their voices had suggested an older man and a younger one, but I couldn't have
guessed which was which. Both were bundled in parkas, with fur-lined hoods drawn tight over their
bearded faces, as if it really was subzero out here. Matching hunting vests topped their parkas. Each man
carried a modified rifle.
"Well, hello there," the man with the older voice boomed. "Welcome to Deerhurst, Alaska. Population: a
few thousand." He winked. "But only a handful of 'em human."
"Beautiful place," I said, looking around. I snuck a glance at Kristof. "You, uh, must get a lot of visitors."
"Nope," the man said. "The transportation code is damned obscure, which is how we like it. Just enough
visitors to keep things interesting."
"So I bet you haven't seen another visitor in& weeks."
"Not that long, actually. Had a party come through just this morning." He thumped the younger man on
the back. "Billy here came with them. Now, let's get you folks back to the lodge. It's getting nippy out."
He shivered for effect. "Time for a hot cocoa and brandy by the fire. A proper Alaskan welcome." He
started to lead us away, then turned. "Damn it, I've been out in the bush too long. Always forgetting my
manners. I'm Charles, You can call me Chuck, Charlie, Chas, whatever you like& though, given the
choice, I'll stick with Charles."
We introduced ourselves, then followed Charles across the snowy field.
As hunting lodges went, this one was damned near perfect: a two-story log chalet nestled among
snowcapped evergreens, wood-perfumed smoke spiraling lazily into the night sky. Icicles from the
second-floor balcony glistened in the moonlight. When Charles pushed open the thick wooden door, a
wave of heat rushed out, carried on a current of laughter. Inside, a half-dozen men sat around a huge [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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