Chaos Bites (28 page)

Destroyed the only hope I had of getting Sawyer back alive.

CHAPTER 30

I was supposed to have a dagger in my hand, but I didn’t. I glanced around; I couldn’t see it anywhere. Checked my back pockets. Nothing. Front pockets. Nothing.

Huh.

Spots flickered in front of my eyes. White. Black. Red. They chased one another like amoebas across a microscope slide. Watching them only made me dizzier, so I turned my attention to Mait just as he let out a furious shout and sprinted for Jimmy.

“No,” I whispered. I didn’t seem to have any volume to my voice or strength in my limbs. I’d been hit harder than this before. What was
wrong
with me?

The two men came together like deer during rut. Though they didn’t butt racks, they did slam chests, then they wrapped their arms around each other and grappled.

Mait was a hair taller, a tad wider, and while he might be strong and fight dirty, Jimmy fought dirtier and had been doing so since he was very young. Mait, on the other hand, had been relying on magic for too long. It showed.

Jimmy wrestled him to the ground and attempted to get his arm around Mait’s neck. Not that it would do much good. Jimmy had no weapon, or at least none that would work.

“Lizzy!” Jimmy shouted. “The dagger!”

I shook my head hard enough to rattle my brains some more. The pain sobered me, and I began to crawl, first looking then feeling for the missing knife. I couldn’t find it.

“Lizzy!”

It was hard to tell who was winning; they looked like a double man pretzel, all wound together, fingers searching for a better hold, arms bulging, legs flailing.

“It’s gone,” I said.

Jimmy flicked me a glance, and Mait slammed his elbow into his nose. The crunch echoed throughout the abandoned church. Blood spouted; Jimmy lost his grip. Mait leaped to his feet and ran.

Making a grab for him, I wound up on my face in the dirt. I slapped my palm to the phoenix tattoo. If I could shift, I’d heal, and then I’d catch him. Wouldn’t be any trouble at all.

Except the gris-gris still blocked my magic.

“Damn,” I muttered. I pulled the thing out of my pocket, then threw it as far as I could.

Jimmy cursed and bled. I crept over to him and felt his pockets until I found his gris-gris, then I tossed that away, too.

I began to lift my hand again, but Jimmy grabbed it before I got there. “Don’t bother,” he said, his voice thick with pain and blood.

“I can catch him.”

He shook his head then, cursing, winced. “The instant he got far enough from the gris-gris, his magic came back.” He pulled himself to his feet then helped me to mine. I managed not to fall back down. “He’s long gone.”

“I thought he was confined.”

“To protect the book.” Jimmy met my eyes.

“But you burned it, and released him.” I couldn’t help it, I slapped Jimmy across his bloody face. “What the hell were you thinking?”

The slap resounded in the sudden silence that followed. The imprint of my fingers appeared, dark splotches on his already dark and splotched skin. I hated the sight; nevertheless, I wanted to hit him again.

“I was thinking,” Jimmy said slowly, “that the book was trouble. Nothing good could come from it.” His gaze bored into mine. “Nothing, Lizzy.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

“You insisted that we push our vampires beneath the moon so we wouldn’t be tempted to steal the
Book of Samyaza
. But we could have used those demons, or at least one of them, to end Mait.”

“I’ll end Mait. Don’t worry about that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been having great luck so far,” I muttered, earning an exasperated glare from Sanducci. “If you were going to burn the damn thing anyway, what was the point of the full moon evil spell?”

“We aren’t the only problem. Anyone who has that book is dangerous. Anyone could be tempted by the secrets inside it.” He took a deep breath and then finished, “You were.”

An icy breeze seemed to stir the wings of my phoenix tattoo. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not stupid, Lizzy.”

“So
you
say.”

His lips tightened. I couldn’t blame him. “Do you remember when your mother was raising revenants?”

I blinked at the seemingly random change in subject. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna forget Mommy or her army of the undead.”

“They were an Apocalyptic portent.”

“And now they’re dust.”

“Which leaves plenty of room for the next undead army.”

“There’s more than one?”

“Without a phoenix to raise revenants—”

“
I’m
a phoenix.”

“You plan on raising some?”

“
Hell
no!”

The dead my mother had raised, while looking completely human, had not acted human. They’d totally given me the creeps.

“Besides,” I admitted. “I don’t really know how.”

“I don’t think it’s brain surgery.”

“No,” I murmured. “I don’t think so, either.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “You tried it!”

I had. “Don’t get all bent out of shape, nothing happened.”

“Lizzy.” Jimmy let out a long breath and rubbed his eyes as if they ached. “What were you thinking?”

In the days following Sawyer’s death I hadn’t been thinking about much but getting him back. I’d tried everything I knew. But I hadn’t known how to raise a revenant, so I did a little research.

“The power isn’t active until I’ve been raised from the grave like she was,” I said. “And I’m not planning on dying anytime soon.”

Jimmy lowered his hand and his gaze met mine. He was disappointed in me, but that was nothing new.

“Without a phoenix to raise revenants,” he repeated, “the forces of darkness are going to have to find another way. According to the rumors, the way was written in that book.”

I stared at him for several seconds. “You knew all along why I wanted it?”

“You can’t raise the dead. You’ll be playing right into their hands. It’s better that the
Book of Samyaza
is ashes.”

“I wasn’t going to raise an army, Jimmy. Just—” My throat closed off; I couldn’t say Sawyer’s name.

“Did it ever occur to you that performing a spell in a book written by Beelzebub might not be the brightest idea for
any
reason?”

I forced myself to speak past the painful lump. “We need him, Jimmy.”

“No,” he said. “You do.”

“Sawyer’s one of the most powerful beings on this earth.”

“Now you are.”

“Two’s always better than one.” And according to my vision, two was what I would need.

“Not when one has died and been brought back to life through evil means,” Jimmy said. “You have no idea what he’ll come back like.”

“He’ll come back like himself.”

“You sure about that?”

“You’ve always hated him.”

“So did you once.”

Had I? Those days seemed so long ago. After I’d gotten to know Sawyer, to understand him, and I realized why he was the way he was, things had changed. I’d changed.

I didn’t want to raise Sawyer to assuage my guilt for killing him, or because Faith needed a father, or even because I missed him so damn much—though all of those things were true—but because Sawyer had power, wisdom, and knowledge beyond my own and everyone else’s. I didn’t think we could win without him. And that was without taking into account my dream of a crucified Jimmy and a missing little girl.

“None of this matters now,” I said. “The book is gone.”

Along with all its secrets.

The two of us searched awhile longer for the dagger but had no luck. There were so many holes in the floor, so many piles of old wood and stone, the weapon could be anywhere.

“You’re sure you brought it?” Jimmy asked.

“You know, I’m not exactly new at this,” I snapped. I’d had it in my hand. Too bad I hadn’t used it.

My dizziness passed. I began to attribute it more to being upset over the loss of Sawyer and what that would mean to us all than the love tap Mait had given me. The pain was already gone, and according to Jimmy the black eye was fading.

We were sweaty and panting by the time we reached the car. The air-conditioning felt heavenly, and I let it blow in my face all the way to the hotel.

Once there, I went directly into the bathroom and locked the door. Not that a door would keep Sanducci out if he wanted to get in. But the sound of my locking it might. Jimmy would never go where he wasn’t wanted.

I let tepid water pound on my head and soothe the frantic pounding of my pulse. I was both furious and frightened. We were going to have to make do without Sawyer, and I wasn’t sure how.

I slammed my palm against the wall. Something crunched. I opened one eye. I’d put a crack in the tile.

“Suck it up,” I muttered. “Did you think the Apocalypse was going to be easy?”

No. But I’d thought I’d have more help.

I half expected Jimmy to be gone by the time I came out—either to beg, borrow, or steal another dagger or to get a lead on Mait. But he wasn’t.

As I crossed to the dresser and slipped first Ruthie’s crucifix, then Sawyer’s turquoise, over my head, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. For an instant I panicked, thinking my collar had fallen off.

I braced against the evil that would wash over me along with the unquenchable desire to kill everything I saw. Not that bracing would help. When the evil was free, there was nothing I could do about it. When the evil was me, I didn’t want to.

Fast on the heels of panic came relief. The demon was gone—at least until the next full moon.

“Do you have to do that?” Jimmy asked.

“What?” I turned.

“Rub his turquoise as if you were rubbing—” Jimmy broke off and crossed to the balcony, staring out at the setting sun.

I glanced down. I
had
been rubbing the turquoise as if I were rubbing—

“Sawyer,” I whispered, and my hand clenched around the stone. I listened, hoping for some kind of answer, but there was nothing. Would there ever be anything again?

Anger sparked, and since anger was always better than agony, I went with it, crossing the room until I stood just inside the terrace doors.

“Sanducci.” He faced me, expression tense, mouth tight. “You were supposed to grab the book and run.” I shoved him in the chest.

“You were supposed to kill Mait.” He shoved me right back.

“Why didn’t you?” I demanded.

“Why didn’t
you
?”

We stood nose-to-nose, just like when we were kids. If I weren’t careful, he’d kick me in the shin and take my last cookie.

I turned away. “We had a plan. You should have followed through.”

“Did you really think I was going to put that book into your hands, Lizzy?”

I had. My mistake.

“Why didn’t you take it somewhere and burn it?” I asked. Somewhere that I could have snatched it. “Why wait until Mait recognized you and everything went to hell?”

“I didn’t wait. I signaled for you to kill him.” He spun me around then looked me up and down as if I were someone he’d just met and did not like. “You were close enough.”

“That was the plan!” I pulled free. “Your plan. At least I stuck to it.”

“Until you
didn’t
kill him.”

I sighed. “I’m supposed to be the leader of the light. You’re my
second
. That means you take orders from me, and I ordered you to bring me that book.”

His eyes flared. For an instant I saw again the vampire he could become. Then he stalked to the door. “What are you going to do about it,
mistress
?” he sneered. “Kill me?”

I took a step toward him—the fury inside making me think that sounded like a damn fine idea—but he stepped into the hallway and slammed the door. I didn’t bother to follow; I knew he’d be gone.

This time I didn’t think he’d be back.

CHAPTER 31

As night came, rain pattered on the terrace. I should have packed my things and headed for New Mexico, but I was tired, and sad, and depressed. Watching the rain fall on New Orleans wasn’t helping.

I’d tried to call Luther then Summer, but no one answered. Not uncommon. Residing in the shadow of Mount Taylor often screwed up cell reception. Living in an enchanted cottage didn’t help, either. If I still couldn’t reach them by late tomorrow morning I’d start to worry, and by then I’d be halfway home.

I listened to the storm as I sipped the rich red wine I’d ordered from room service. Eventually my exhaustion, combined with the alcohol, made me nod, so I dropped all my clothes on the floor and crawled into bed. The rhythm of the rain followed me into the darkness.

I badly wanted to talk to Sawyer. Instead I got Ruthie. I should have been happier about it. I’d been wishing Ruthie back since I’d lost her.

When I spoke to Ruthie in my dreams I went to her. The house with the white picket fence wasn’t the one she’d lived in, and died in, but I knew it was hers just the same. Even before I strolled up the walk, and she opened the door.

“Lizbeth.” Ruthie spread wide her arms.

Despite being skinny, with elbows, knees, and hips like razors, Ruthie gave the best hugs in this world as well as the next. God, I had missed them.

How being hugged by a woman who was built like a bag of bones could be so soft and gentle, I had no idea. But as I stepped into Ruthie’s embrace my exhaustion fled, my sadness lifted, and I felt again like I could do anything. She’d always had that effect on me.

Ruthie rubbed my back, murmuring nonsense into my hair as she held me. As always, I pulled away first, never her. Which might just
be
the secret to those hugs.

She kept hold of my hand, hers thin and heavily veined—but still as strong as her heart, which I’d felt thumping steadily against my chest despite her being dead nearly three months now. She drew me inside and closed the door.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” I said.

Ruthie smiled, white teeth flashing against the rich coffee hue of her face, her puffy, graying Afro swaying as she shook her head. “Been here all the time, child. You were the one who was gone.”