Chapter 25
A murmur of voices pulled me from my dream of hazy sunlight and lapping waves.
Stretching where I was, I cracked my eyelids to see an empty couch.
I could hear the soothing rumble of Benedict’s voice, and for a moment, I stayed where I was as the last remnants of sleep fractured and fell away.
Slivers of light ran long lines across the floor through the blinds, and I sat up, swinging my feet to the cement only to start at a sudden painful tingle.
Dross, I thought in annoyance, but when I looked down, it was only the glint of the low sun. Worry washed through me, quickly followed by a faint fizzing.
You okay? Pluck asked, and I cautiously stuck my foot back into the sun to feel only the expected warmth.
“Fine,” I said, but he had felt the echo of my pain from the initial contact and he was concerned.
Pluck looked almost solid as he sat with ears pricked watching Benedict and Marty playing paper triangle football on one of the empty workbenches.
Sticky-looking cellophane wrappers sat at the corners, and two more wrapped pastries waited on the adjacent bench with my dad’s four sticks, tied into an easy-to-carry bundle with a knotted long-cord.
Clearly they’d found a vending machine, and I stifled a surge of jealousy when Marty scored a field goal and both of them laughed.
Pluck flicked an ear, a saucy glint to his green eyes. You are the one he was pressed against last night.
My shoulders slumped and I quashed the stupid feeling. “Morning,” I said, surprised at my rough voice.
Marty started, going to sit on one of the high stools with a guilty quickness, but Benedict visibly brightened. “Good morning!” he said, his gaze flicking past me to the window blinds glowing with light. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t.” I sighed, still feeling tired. “Did Herm leave already?”
“Yep.” Benedict fiddled with the paper triangle, finally setting it by the makeshift goalpost since Marty was clearly done playing. “About five minutes ago.”
I stood, pace wobbly as I went to sit with my elbows on the workbench and my chin in my cupped hand.
“He knew I wanted to go with him to get that last stick,” I said, and my ankle went tingly and cold until Pluck swirled up to sit next to the dross separator bolted to the corner.
There were three empty paper cups in the trash, and I could smell coffee.
Just how long, I wondered, has everyone been up? Benedict looked positively chipper.
“That’s why he hustled out of here,” Benedict said as he flicked the triangle to Marty and she caught it. “He’ll call when he knows something.”
Typical. Tired, I dragged one of the unopened pastries to me and struggled with the cellophane. “Any more coffee in that break room?” I guessed, relieved when the bag finally opened. Shadow spit. Why am I so tired?
Marty slid from the high stool with a reluctant slowness. “I’ll get you a cup. It’s just down the hall.” She patted her jeans pocket, then winced. “Uh…”
“I got it.” Benedict took his wallet from his back pocket and handed her a five-dollar bill. “Can it handle this?”
“Yup.” She flashed me a smile. “Won’t be long.”
She practically ran to the door, but I had just caught her flirting with my boyfriend. “You don’t know if the vending machine can handle a fiver?” I asked Benedict when the door shut and her shadow vanished.
He wouldn’t leave you, Pluck thought. I’m starting to admire his unthinking zeal to keep you safe—which is a strange feeling in itself. Speaking of which…
Pluck shrank to a thin ribbon, skating to the door and puddling under it to follow her. Good idea, I thought, getting a faint response. Marty had said it was just down the hall, but no need to take chances.
His good mood obvious, Benedict began to disassemble the goalposts, each one made from pencil-size sticks destined to become desk traps. They had tied them together with silk ribbon and propped them up with sticky tack.
“Is Pluck with her?” he asked as he picked the silk knots free.
I ate a bite of the pastry. It was sweet, but that was its only redeeming feature. “Yup.”
The tiny sticks clattered as he set them back in their bin. “I was being nice. That’s it.”
I looked up at him, eyebrows high. “You sure?”
He smiled, his even teeth showing in a flash of mirth. “You’re jealous!” he exclaimed, and I scowled when he tugged me close and gave me a long hug.
I couldn’t stay mad at him. Giving up, I set my pastry down to put both arms around his waist. “You need to do something to make me unjealous,” I suggested, and Benedict grinned.
“I’d give you a kiss, but I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
“Neither have I.”
He leaned down and I looked up, our lips meeting for a full-on, satisfying kiss that was just about as far as I wanted to go without a toothbrush.
My grip tightened about his waist, and a thrill raced through me when I broke from him, a little breathless.
That Pluck was far enough away that he couldn’t hear my thoughts was appreciated, seeing as they were decidedly earthy.
“Still jealous?” he asked.
“Not sure.” Playing coy, I drew just out of his reach. “Might need more convincing.”
Benedict dragged a tall stool closer so he could sit right beside me, his attention going to that last wrapped pastry. He ripped it open with a practiced ease. “She’s had a rough week. And she really misses Victor.”
“Tell me about it.” I bumped my shoulder into his before giving his neck a solid kiss…which turned into biting his ear.
“You are wicked, you know that?” Benedict glanced at the door, then peeled the cellophane from his pastry. “I’m glad you woke up. I was waiting to eat with you and I’m starved.”
I glanced at the closed door, wishing I had my coffee. “So…Herm has a plan?”
Benedict shrugged. “He sent Lev and Cameron to get Dana out of her apartment on a wild-goose chase so he could search her apartment for that last stick.”
I nibbled at the sticky bun, hoping the coffee would be better. “Simple works best.”
“We should get a call in about twenty minutes, I’m guessing?”
I nodded, wondering what was taking Marty so long.
Benedict pulled a ribbon of dough free and ate it. “Which leaves us to figure out how to either find Thoth or lure him into a trap.”
I followed Benedict’s gaze to the four gathered sticks lying on the workbench. Saying nothing, I picked at my pastry, not really enjoying it.
“Hey,” he said, clearly trying to change the subject. “Those dross bottles are shadow rated, right? Maybe we should empty one to put Thoth into. I mean, I should empty one. Or I could do it here and you could tune the dross. Fill Marty’s amulet, maybe.”
My fingers touched the squarish stone around my neck.
I knew without looking that it was a muddy green from storing the dark matter I’d put in it.
There was room for more. “That’s not a bad idea.
” I slipped from the high stool, my thump from finding the floor going right up my spine.
The cabinet latch was simple, and the old glass door creaked as I swung it open.
“I’m sure she’d appreciate getting it back. ”
A shudder rippled over me as I looked at the stored bad luck, shining like bottled miniature suns.
But when I drew a wide-mouthed jar from the rack, I hesitated.
My fingers were tingling. Not only that, but the sensation was growing, becoming a soft burn.
Shadow spit, I could feel the dross right through the glass!
Breath held, I paced quickly to the nearest workbench and set the jar down.
Benedict stared at me as I wiped my fingers on my jeans to rid myself of the memory.
It had been that same burning feeling that I’d gotten from the sunbeam, but unlike the heat of the sun, it had gotten worse the longer I had held it.
“What?” he asked when I didn’t say anything.
“Um.” I made a fist to hide my fingers, nervous. “I can, ah. I think I can feel the dross through the glass,” I admitted, and his eyes widened. I shouldn’t be able to, and I backed away from it, wishing it was some special dross or unique bottle—but I knew better. It was me.
It was one of the unbreakable rules that dross couldn’t pass through glass and, by association, shadow. That was how the bottles and vaults worked. Something, though, was getting through the glass, or I wouldn’t be feeling the tingle of energy.
How the sweet ever-loving hell am I doing that? I thought, wishing Pluck was here. “Maybe it’s the dark matter from dross’s natural decay?” I guessed, not wanting it to be me.
Benedict’s eyebrows rose high. “Seriously?”
Yeah, it had been a dumb idea, and I shrugged, studying the way the dross seemed to pool against the glass when I got too near.
It was almost as if it was attracted—which sort of tracked.
Breath held, I pressed a finger against the bottle, shivering when the faint chime of the universe became louder.
Disturbed, I curved my finger under and away. “I need to talk to Pluck.”
“It doesn’t take this long to get a coffee,” he said, brow furrowed.
Pluck? I called, senses straining.
“It was just down the hall,” Benedict said, adding, “Ah, stay here. I’ll go check,” when I slid from the stool.
“We’ll both check. Bring the sticks,” I said, my thoughts on Thoth as I flung the door open—
Only to stop stock-still in shock. Dana stood there, accompanied by three men with rifles and another with a handheld battering ram.
“Grady!” Dana exclaimed, quickly finding her aplomb as the three men brought their mundane weapons to bear. “And Benedict, too. Is Herm here by chance?”
I backpedaled, face cold, and they came in, faces grim and lodestones winking.
“No?” Dana stopped just inside, motioning with a curt gesture for them to surround us. “Too bad. Can’t have everything. We’ll find him.”