A Perfect Blood. Ким Харрисон
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up my spell book and crouched to put it away. This was a mess, and I wasn’t talking about the kitchen. The I.S. had asked for my help. The FIB desperately needed it. HAPA was stringing their victims up to taunt me into finding them. They knew I had what they wanted—what they were mutilating people to find. “Promise.”
I shoved the book into its spot, then hesitated, growing angrier as I looked at the demon curse books right next to it. Suddenly I was twice as set on not giving the FIB or the I.S. a list of what I could do. They could hire an intern and get it from the library—I wasn’t going to give them the rope to hang me with.
Never would I have guessed making it public knowledge that I could kindle demon magic would lead to this. It was no longer a secret that witches were stunted demons, so far removed from their original species that they were a species unto themselves—and clearly someone had made the correct assumption that the Rosewood syndrome had something to do with it. As one of the two people to survive the deadly but common genetic abnormality, I’d made myself a target.
“I have to call Lee,” I whispered, then straightened, my fingers trailing from the demon books reluctantly. I couldn’t feel anything from them anymore, and it sort of hurt. “Glenn, can you make me a list of the Rosewood carriers in the city? Maybe watch them?”
Immediately he uncrossed his arms, his belligerence at my resistance turning into concern for the masses. “Seriously? There has to be a couple hundred at least.”
The number was probably closer to a thousand. The genetic abnormality wasn’t that uncommon, and it was only when the recessive genes doubled up that there was a problem. “You don’t have to watch all of them,” I said. “Just the high risk. The young, the stupid.” My thoughts went to the man in the gazebo. He hadn’t been stupid. Careless, maybe. “Telling the general public might be a mistake,” I said softly. “No need to start a panic.”
His reluctance was clear as he ran a hand over his short haircut. “I’ll see what I can do.”
That didn’t sound promising, and I began to get angry again. No, it was frustration, and he didn’t deserve it since it was mostly at myself. I exhaled. “Can you at least have the vulnerable people on a list so that when they’re reported missing they get attention?”
Glenn nodded, looking at his phone for the right number. “That I can do,” he said, and Jenks hovered over his shoulder, probably memorizing the number for future use, until Glenn snapped his phone closed.
Call Trent about a memory charm blocker. Call Lee to warn him about a possible abduction. Talk to Wayde and tell him I’m a target. My mind was swirling, and jaw clenched, I loosened my grip on the counter, not having realized that I’d grabbed it. Ivy had, though, and she watched me in concern from across the kitchen, her orange juice in a grip just as tight. “Excuse me,” I said as I started for the hallway. “I need to talk to Wayde.”
“First smart thing she’s done all week,” Jenks said, and I squinted at him.
“Alone,” I added, and he made a face at me before darting to Ivy’s shoulder to sulk. The last thing I wanted was Jenks making smart-ass remarks as I asked Wayde to step it up.
“Uh, before you go, have you given any more thought to making that list of, ah, curses?” Glenn asked hesitantly.
I came to an abrupt halt six inches in front of him, since he wasn’t moving out of the doorway. “I’ve thought about it, and I’m not doing it,” I said, trying to be calm and reasonable, but I’d just about had it.
“Rache is not making you no list,” Jenks said hotly, making Ivy brush his dust from her.
“Why not?” Glenn asked, and Ivy cleared her throat in warning. “No, really,” Glenn asked again, appearing truly at a loss. “If it’s common knowledge, what’s the big deal?”
I refused to back up, and my face flushed as I put my hands on my hips. “It’s not all common knowledge,” I finally said, “and what they don’t know, I don’t want to tell them. Move, will you? I have to talk to my bodyguard about upping his surveillance.”
Glenn glanced at Ivy, then said to me, “Rachel, I’m under a lot of pressure here.”
“Oh, for the love of Tink!” Jenks said.
“Why is everyone afraid of what I can do all of a sudden?” I exclaimed, backing up to the center counter.
Again glancing at Ivy to gauge her control, Glenn caught his own rising temper, calmly saying, “Because there’s a goat man strung up in a city park, surrounded by demon symbols and marked with the demon word to make it public. The sooner you give them the list, the sooner you can get on with your life.”
My lips pressed together as I remembered the DMV office. I didn’t want to give up that part of myself. Not to the I.S. or the FIB, where anything or anyone would have access to it.
Jenks darted into the air when Ivy jerked into motion, but she was only going to the window, jamming it all the way open to get a better airflow. The autumn-night rain slipped in with the scent of decaying leaves, and my shoulders lost most of their tension.
“People are scared,” Glenn said, calm again and not simply masking his anger. “You say you can do demon magic but won’t. You have demon books you won’t share the contents of. You’re registered in their database.”
“That wasn’t my idea,” I muttered. “And I’ve got almost no magic anymore. See? I neutered myself!” Angry, I shifted my weight to my other foot and glared up at him. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I finished, depression starting to take hold.
“Rachel, I’m sorry,” he said when he saw my mood shift. “I’m not afraid of you, but it’s easy to be scared. Understanding is harder. Just make the list. I don’t care if it’s complete. I’ll take it in, and then you can get your life back.”
I looked at Ivy, my gut saying no even if it sounded easy. I was getting tired of having to bargain for every little thing I deserved, like a license or the ability to make a plane reservation. But still … “And when they find out I didn’t tell them everything, they’ll use that against me,” I said softly. “No.”
“What is the problem?” Glenn said. “Don’t get mad. I’m trying to understand!”
He really was, and Ivy moved from the window to tug him out of my way and back to his chair. “She’s right,” she whispered in his ear, and I felt my own neck start to tingle. “If anything ever comes across an I.S. desk that looks like something Rachel admits she can do, they’ll say it’s her even if she’s wearing charmed silver, because she’s an easy target.”
Glenn slumped, looking beaten as he stared at the floor. “Okay,” he said, then looked at me. “I see where you’re coming from, but I don’t agree with it. I’ll stall them. Asking you for it wasn’t my idea.”
Finally I could smile. “I know. I’ll be right back. Save me a slice of pizza, okay?”
“Let me know if Wayde needs anything from me,” Glenn said, but I was already in the hall, headed for the stairway. Ivy had been kicking out I’m-hungry pheromones for at least an hour, and I had to get out of there for a while.
“Will do!” I shouted over my shoulder, making my sure way through the dark. There was no way I was going to make a list for the FIB or the I.S. I’d rather live off the grid. Driving was overrated, and maybe I wouldn’t have to pay taxes this year.
I couldn’t help but wonder, though, if what I was really fleeing was seeing Glenn and Ivy—happy together—and knowing it could have been me.
Arms swinging, I entered the sanctuary, dimly lit by the TV, on in the corner where the new furniture set was. Pixies perched on the backs of the chairs