Sacrificial Magic (7 page)

Not that it mattered. Anyone in that room already knew they were coming.

She’d dropped her flashlight but had a cheap plastic lighter in her pocket; she flicked it on, and Monica found the right key and opened the door.

Empty.

Well, not empty. It was a classroom. It had classroom things inside it. But it was empty of people, and people were what Chess needed. Her heart would have sunk if she hadn’t been expecting to find no one there, and if she wasn’t still buzzing from adrenaline.

The adrenaline gave her extra speed to cross the room. That door wasn’t locked. It hit the wall with an echoing bang when she flung it open, when she flung herself into the hall and found nothing but silence. More emptiness. Of course.

Beulah might be a bitch—well, okay, to be fair, Chess couldn’t yet say that with absolute certainty, just with a lot of it—but she wasn’t stupid. She started opening doors down the right side of the hall, peering into each room, leaving them open so that Chess could look into them as she opened the doors on the left.

“Where else could they be? Where could they have gone?”

Beulah shook her head. “Anywhere. The stairs at either end lead to the science hall and the cafeteria. From there they could keep going into the rest of the school, or out to the parking lot. There’s some sort of activity going on in the gym right now, they could slip in there and we’d never know it.”

Fuck! It was about what she’d expected, but fuck! anyway.

The adrenaline started to fade, leaving her hands shaky and her chest and head aching. She could take care of that, but … Damn it. She pressed her palm to her forehead for a second, took a deep breath, and headed back into the drama classroom. The odds of her finding anything useful in there were slim to none, but she’d look anyway. At least she could make a note that she’d looked, that she’d—

How had they known?

She hadn’t called before heading out, hadn’t told anyone at Mercy Lewis to expect her. Nor, to her knowledge, had anyone at the Church, although of course she’d have to double-check that.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone when she arrived except Beulah, Monica, and Laurie. Hadn’t seen anyone, and although technically anyone could have seen
her
when she arrived, nothing about her—her scuffed and dusty boots, her black jeans, the faded blue polo she wore over a black long-sleeved T-shirt, or her black-dyed Bettie Page haircut—screamed “Church employee.” Quite the opposite, in fact; she’d deliberately worn street clothes.

So how had anyone known who she was, to sabotage the catwalk while she was on it? How had someone not only known who she was, but made it into the drama room in time to start fucking with the bolts? Not to mention the wires.

That suggested a planned attack. More than one person.

Had it even been aimed at her at all? And if not, what the hell was the point?

She grabbed her notebook to scribble all of that down while it was fresh. Especially because now that the shakes and flashbacks were starting—she could feel the way her hand gripped the pen too tightly—and she knew she’d be alone for, oh, four or five hours at least, she planned to head home, crack her pillbox, and try to forget it all as quickly as possible.

Someone had tried to kill her. Or at least, given the way the catwalk had hit the stage fairly harmlessly, to scare the fuck out of her. Whether they knew she was Church or not, someone had just fucked with her in a particularly unpleasant way. A particularly unpleasant way that wasn’t already on her list of things she took drugs to forget, anyway.

Unless, of course, someone had made some calls. Both Monica and Beulah had made bathroom or office stops before they headed to the theater, so either of them could have picked up the phone. Laurie could have done so after they left the administration area. Shit. Four hours on the case, two of them spent doing research at Church, and she’d already survived a murder attempt. That didn’t bode well.

But it boded better than what she saw on the wall, what she found on the wrench lying on the floor nearby. Just two little smears of it. Two little smears of what she hoped was Vaseline or some similar substance, but which the knowledge she’d gotten from her Church training and the knowledge she’d gotten from a lifetime of having everything go wrong every damn time told her was something much worse.

Ectoplasm.

   After all of that—after inspecting the roof above the theater and finding nothing at all, after finally getting out of the building she was already beginning to hate on more than just general principles—the last thing she expected to see was Lex, leaning against her new car, smoking a cigarette and grinning at her like she had dirty words written on her forehead and he wasn’t about to tell her.

“Hey there, Tulip. Ain’t usual seeing you this side of town, aye?”

“What are you doing here?” They shared one of those awkward kiss-hug-or-what moments, ending up kissing on the cheek. Odd, that. She and Lex had never really been cheek-kissers, but since they weren’t kissing anywhere else these days she guessed it was the thing to do.

Especially since it gave her another few seconds to figure out how to react to his presence there in general. As far as she knew, Lex didn’t spend a lot of time hanging
around schools; why would he? He’d gone to one, she assumed, but his business didn’t involve spending time there.

Or again, so she assumed. For all she knew one of the teachers had a habit bigger than hers, or part-timed as a hooker and Lex was there to pick her up for her shift. The possibilities were endless; someone could be a fence, someone could have—

Information. Uh-huh. “How did you know I was here?”

His grin widened. “Glad to see me?”

“Surprised.” But she smiled. Of course she was glad to see him; she usually was. “Who told you I was here?”

“Why anybody gotta give me the knowledge? Could be I just makin a drive-by, see them new wheels you got and gave you the stop, me. That so hard to believe?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

The spring sunlight hit the black spikes of his hair and made them shine; he tilted his head and the light spilled across his face. Sometimes she forgot how handsome he was. But then, it was easy to forget things like that when it didn’t matter. “Been hearing crazy shit on this place. Figured on givin it a check-out, I did, then look who shows up. Got any knowledge what’s on the happening in there?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Ain’t expect any else. An what’s the happening with that face you got? Ain’t run into that Boil again, I don’t think.”

Shit. How bad did her face look? She hadn’t checked.

But she smiled at the reference. “It was Doyle, and no, I just fell down.”

“Must have fell hard.”

“Yeah, I did.”

His fingers stroked her sore cheekbone, light and delicate and warm. She fought the tiny shiver threatening to
rise and risked a glance at his face, but his gaze focused on her cheek. “Ain’t a safe place,” he murmured.

Chess swallowed. The sun still shone, the air was still clear and fresh with the smell of blooming spring, but something had changed. No more breeze; everything seemed to stop and wait, including her own breath, damn it.

Nothing like that had happened the last couple of times she’d seen him. If it was even happening, which how would she know? The only men she’d ever spent more than a single night with were Lex and Terrible—one of whom she used to touch all the time because they were generally together for that purpose, and one of whom she’d almost never touched until they started touching in private. Maybe friends did that sort of thing all the time. He was only touching her cheek, inspecting it. It wasn’t like he’d started playing with her breasts or something.

Then it ended, as suddenly as it had begun. A gust of wind chased away the stillness, chased away the expression on his face so thoroughly she wondered if she really had imagined it. “You leaving?”

She nodded.

“Got time, maybe you wanna come back mine for a few?”

No. The answer should have been no, especially after that weird little moment. But then … aside from one night of wandering around and the night in Graveyard Twenty-three she’d tried her damnedest to forget, she’d never really been outside his bedroom on this side of town. He might have some information that would help her. Hell, he might have some information about the explosion at Bump’s pipe room, although she didn’t much expect he’d be willing to say a word to her about that.

And she kind of missed hanging out with him, if she were honest with herself, which she generally tried not
to be. And nothing had happened in that moment, and nothing would. She knew that. “What have you got in mind?”

“Nothing good, Tulip.” Then, seeing her eyebrows rise, “But nothing you gotta worry youself on, neither. C’mon. Getting twitchy standin here, aye?”

Oh, what the hell. “You drive.”

   His room hadn’t changed. The house hadn’t changed. Only the looks given her by the various guards or enforcers or whoever they were had, from bland acceptance to subtle suspicion.

And she’d changed, it seemed. At least a bit. In the car, chatting, all had been well, but when the door closed behind her it occurred to her how long it had been since she’d been there. And what had happened the last time she’d been there. Happened several times and again in the morning, if memory served, which it did.

Another awkward moment when she started walking toward the bed, remembered, and turned back to the couch against the wall. Lex already sat there, lighting a cigarette, flipping a switch behind him so the Jam started playing in the background. King of his room-castle, just like one day he’d be king of his side of town.

“So what’s up?” The question sounded lame even to her, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. The bed with its plain blue blanket and sheets loomed larger and larger in her vision.

“Church sent you that school? Thinkin on it being for real? The spooks, meaning.”

“Too early to tell.” Not totally a lie. She’d taken the wrench, scraped the ectoplasm off the walls and into inert plastic containers to be tested. It felt like ectoplasm, sure, but that could be faked. People had faked more conclusive evidence than that. Hell, for all she knew it was some new hair gel or something. Way too early
to start convincing herself that that bonus wouldn’t be hers.

“Aye? Some fucked-up place, that one. Ain’t envy you wanderin around there at night.”

“Who says I wander around there at night?”

He gave a short, low laugh. “Aw, c’mon now, Tulip. You forgetting, I been along with you on a few of them cases you get. Know the drill, I do.”

“Maybe this one is different.”

“Aye, and maybe it ain’t. Only thing I gots to say is be careful. Ain’t a good place, there.”

“Why?” She pulled out her own cigarette, lit it up to give her something to look at. Not sure how much credence she should give anything he said to her, if she should even listen, but at the same time listening hard.

Yes, sure, things were different now. But while she couldn’t say Lex had never lied to her—of course he’d lied to her, and she’d lied to him—she couldn’t see any reason for him to lie to her about a case.

Then again, she’d never had a case on his side of town before.

“Just ain’t safe. All kinds of shit in there, them teachers and all.”

“How do you know this?”

He looked at her with his head tilted. “It matter?”

“No. I just wonder what you know.”

“Ain’t know much. Hear tell on they being the sort sell them mamas it get they what they wanting, if you dig.”

She blew out smoke, shifted in her seat to face him better. “How does that make them different from anyone else?”

“Guessing it ain’t. Only most people ain’t big crowds like they. Could get up a fuck of a double-cross, be what they wanting to do.”

Chess looked at him without speaking, let the minute
drag on long enough to have made anyone else feel uncomfortable. Lex didn’t, of course, because Lex never did, but his expression went from bland to curious before she spoke. “Is that what you came there today to tell me?”

“Nay, just came by check the place out, I did.”

“But why? And why today? And how did you know that was my car, you’ve only seen it like once before.”

He smiled, slowly, letting the change of expression itself waste time. “Aye, somebody gave me the tell you was there. Came by give you a hello. That a bad thing?”

What wasn’t he telling her?

And how much did it matter?

She pushed it all into the back of her head for later. He wouldn’t tell her if she asked outright anyway. Better to move around the question and see if anything else came out later. “So I guess I’ll be spending a bit more time on your side of town for a while.”

Lex stood up and headed for the mini-fridge he kept against the wall. Without asking he pulled a couple of beers out, opened them both, and handed her one. “Guessing you will.”

His amused expression told Chess he knew very well what she was getting to. Damn it. But not a surprise. “And I guess I won’t be the only person who lives on my side but spends a lot of time here.”

The couch sank when he plunked himself down, close enough that his hand almost touched her thigh. “Aw, Tulip, figured you come up with a better try-on than that. You know I ain’t givin you that knowledge any-road.”

“Yeah, but I had to try.”

“Aye, guessing you did.” He laughed. “An now you done it.”

“But someone did tell you. About the pipe room.” That was pushing it, she knew. Sure, he’d laugh at her attempts
to find out who the snitch was, which one of the people Bump and Terrible trusted had given Slobag the let’s-go on blowing up that pipe room. But he wouldn’t laugh for long. Especially now that her attempts to feel him out for information were no longer followed by her allowing him to perform his own feel-outs on her.

Sure enough, his eyes narrowed a little. “Maybe them did. Maybe not. Maybe somebody’s luck were just running right up. Thought you and me weren’t having the troubles on this one.”

And there it was. The iron door slamming shut. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just— Never mind.”