Chapter 17 #3
“No!” Ryan shouted the word, and everything seemed to slow and still.
“That is enough, Dana,” he added, and Herm exhaled even as he pulled me a step closer to the hall.
“As you pointed out, Petra Grady is my employee, and unless you have proof that she’s broken the law, I decide when disciplinary measures are to be taken and what they are.
Right now, all she’s guilty of is questionable judgment in opening the vault after I told her the chances of Thoth showing up were nil.
” The Spinner met my eyes, wincing. “If anyone should be answering questions, it’s me. End of story.”
Dana took a breath.
“As long as I’m in charge of the sweepers and weavers, my word stands!” Ryan exclaimed, and the woman’s eyes narrowed.
“Fine,” she admitted. “But when I prove she is behind the attacks, it will become an issue for the mage courts.”
Ryan’s gaze flicked to me and back to her again. “As always,” he said, and Benedict’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“Glad we are in agreement,” the woman said. “Until this is settled, Marty will have no more contact with Grady.”
“What?” I exclaimed, and Dana brushed her scraped palm again.
“That is not helpful, Dana,” Ryan said, and I pulled from Herm’s grip.
“No, I think this is a good idea,” Herm said, shocking me to silence. “And when Thoth follows Marty to Dana’s house, she might realize Thoth isn’t under your control.”
“And when she ends up in a coma?” I said. “Ryan…”
Dana’s flash of worry vanished. “I can handle a shadow. We’ll be fine,” she said, her motions fast as she scooped up Marty’s hoodie. “Stay away from her or I will put you in a cell.”
I looked out the window, longing to have just five minutes with Marty. “Tell her this isn’t her fault,” I said as Dana click-clacked to the hall.
“Oh, believe me, I will.” Dana walked out, slamming the door behind her.
I allowed myself one sigh, then tightened right back up again.
Ryan watched them out the window, a sad, worried expression on his face. “Petra, Herm is right. Make yourself scarce. Stay in St. Unoc, but—”
“I’m not going into hiding,” I interrupted, and his focus sharpened.
“Pluck, thank you for keeping them safe,” he added, and Pluck, wrapped around my arm like a python, bobbed his snakelike head, green eyes glinting.
“We will need water…” Benedict bolted into motion to gather our few things plus some extras we might need. He’d gotten good at bugging out—thanks to me.
“You should leave before she comes back.” Herm tugged at me until I had to take a step. “Ben, I have water in the truck,” he said louder. “I’ll get you clear of her. My junkyard safe house is known now, but I have somewhere in mind. You’re going to love it.”
Deep in thought, Ryan sat down before the small table, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the broken pieces of the trap stick. “How did she turn this against you so fast?”
I was kind of wondering the same thing…until Pluck fizzed, Thoth. The shadow was using us against ourselves. It was infuriating.
“Ah, my car is out front,” Benedict said. He had a bag over one arm and a trio of trap sticks in the other, and I felt a surge of gratitude. “Petra can stay with me.”
“No, you’re going into hiding, too.” Herm ushered us into movement. “Pluck will need help keeping her intact.”
I do not, the shadow grumped as he flowed to the floor and shook dark matter from himself like dust.
“We’re taking my truck,” Herm grumbled, pointing to Ryan’s office and the sliding glass door. “It’s a lot less conspicuous than your go-faster car. I had to park a block away. I almost got towed the last time I left it at the miniature golf course. Go. Out.”
I barely had time to grab my dad’s oversize trap stick before he pushed me into the hall, but my gaze lingered on Ryan. Herm hadn’t told him where we were going; Ryan hadn’t asked. My life was out of control, but if Herm could hand me a life preserver to keep my head above water, I should take it.
“Wouldn’t it be better to concentrate on proving Pluck and Petra didn’t have anything to do with the vaults?” Benedict asked as Herm led us to the back door in Ryan’s office.
“Thoth is not a wild shadow,” Herm said, and Pluck fizzed a sour agreement. “He’s got an agenda and is setting you up to take his fall. Quite well, actually.”
“Tell me about it.” Ryan’s office was hot from the sun pouring in, and I hesitated, my feet edging the light as Benedict tugged the sliding door open and the warmth of a late-November day spilled in.
Pluck dove for his amulet, and as I held the dark green glass, the slight burn on my palm disappeared. “That doesn’t mean we can’t catch him.”
Breath held, I forced myself out into the sun, wincing as the initial flash of heat dulled to something tolerable. Huh, I thought as I compared it to the initial jolt of connection I’d once felt when handling dross.
“I’m not so sure.” Herm worked the sticky door shut and ushered us to the far gate.
“Thoth took your ability to make a field but let you live to take his blame. That vault had to have been locked and unlocked three times last night. He waited until you unlocked it before destroying it. His plans stretch into the next century, and you and Pluck are not in them.”
I glanced at Benedict, a flicker of fear that he might be right sparking through me. Pluck had said the same thing.
“It’s going to be okay.” Benedict’s fingers brushed mine as Herm opened the back gate, his uncomplicated figure looking at home among the recycle bins and empty totes. “You have a lot of friends here.” Benedict shifted the pack higher up his shoulder. “Besides, Herm is exaggerating.”
Imagine my disappointment, echoed in Pluck’s and my memory, when I found it was an accident and you would have shadows burn in the hell of your making. Petra, the yeth.
“Maybe,” I said, and Pluck fizzed sourly.
“I still think waking up Cameron has merit.” I shifted to skirt a drift of dross, and the thought that I hadn’t told Ryan what Thoth had done to me bubbled up from nowhere.
Maybe it was just as well. If he knew—or Dana knew—she’d find a way to use it against me.
“This is so unfair,” Benedict said, and we hustled to catch up with Herm. “None of this was your fault.”
But as I pulled my cap lower, it occurred to me that maybe it was. Being naive wasn’t a crime, but perhaps it should be.