She shook her head wildly. “I don’t have a daughter. Who are you?!”
I reached the house phone and opened the drawer beneath it, where I kept syringes of magical serum. A consequence of her almost making it to the phone about six months ago. I doubted the police would take kindly to an apartment full of stolen goods. I hated doing this to her, but the only way to calm her down was to use that serum to put her into a magical sleep. Krieger had given me a whole bunch, just in case. A sweetener to entice me to join the SDC, but this one I could get on board with.
I let Mom come closer. Risky but necessary. The voodoo curse had robbed her of magic, draining what was left of it this past year, or this would’ve been way harder. Once she reached me, her fists ready to give me a pummeling, I lunged forward and sank the syringe into her arm. It worked instantly, all those magical juices flowing. Mom sagged in my arms, the fight gone out of her. I held her tight to stop her from falling on her face and dragged her to the couch like a gangster trying to hide a body. As gently as possible, I lifted her limp limbs onto the cushions until she looked vaguely comfortable.
She’s just sleeping. How many daughters had to plunge syringes into their moms like this? Every time, I tried not to shudder and break down. This shade of gray would never sit well with me. But it helped her, in more ways than one. Every time she woke up from a long, magical nap, she had a slightly better memory. A temporary reboot. It always got worse again, but those moments right after she woke up were some of the best we could hope for. I looked forward to them, in a weird way. It was like having my mom back, the way she used to be, even just for an hour or two.
I sank down on my haunches and looked at her. She looked peaceful. No fear, no pain, no confusion. If I’d been made of tougher stuff, I might’ve been able to let her go and wish for a higher power, or whatever, to take all her worries away. But I wasn’t that strong. I wanted to keep my mom around as long as possible, even if it took away pieces of me. I could live with her calling me someone else’s name, or not knowing me at all, as long as her heart kept beating. Maybe that was selfish. I didn’t care.
Tears hit me. They didn’t come often, and never around Inez. I kept them for the shower, usually, where they mixed with the water and nobody would be the wiser. This time, they came unscheduled. Sinking lower, I held my head in my hands and let the tears fall.
What else can I do? Would I keep stabbing her with needles? Would I watch as she wasted away into nothing? What if she never had a good day again? The bad days hurt Inez more than they hurt me, which messed me up even more. My sister just wanted her mom. I just wanted my mom. And she pulled further away from us with every passing day, every lapse. Big, ugly sobs wracked my chest, and I didn’t fight them.
Maybe Harley’s right.
Joining the SDC wouldn’t just mean being under their watchful eye—it could be a safe haven. Years ago, I’d never have considered it, but covens had changed a lot since my mother’s dealings with them. Everything had changed after the Katherine situation. Last time I’d visited the coven, Harley had suggested Mom might be better off in a controlled environment, under Krieger’s constant care. And I was starting to agree.
I was gearing up to sob a little more when a knock exploded through the air. My head snapped up. Inez couldn’t see me like this.
I got to my feet and smeared my eyes with the back of my baggy sleeves. Why had she come back? Had she forgotten something? If she kicked up another fuss about going to school, I didn’t know if I’d be able to hack it. I didn’t want to lay into her. That wouldn’t be fair. But I’d reached my lowest freaking point. And I worried I might crack.
Still wiping my eyes, I went to the door and looked through the peephole. Ordinarily, I could see anyone there and the hallway behind them. Right then, I couldn’t see anything, as if something blocked out the light completely. A sense of dread scurried up my spine like escaped ants.
“Who’s there?” I demanded.
A soft chuckle filtered back. “My name is Erebus. I am the one person who can help your mother.”
Erebus? Yeah, that definitely sent alarm bells ringing.
Seven
Kenzie
“I’m waiting,” Erebus said.
I rested one hand on the lock, the other reaching for the shotgun I kept by the door.
“How do I know you are who you say, huh? You could be a security magical!” I shouted back.
“I chose to knock, to be polite. I can break the door down if you prefer a display of power.”
I grabbed the shotgun and put it behind my back. “Don’t break it down. You think I’ve got money to burn repairing hinges?”
“Then let me in.”
“Or what, you’ll huff, and you’ll puff, and you’ll blow this house down?” I demanded.
“That is entirely up to you, Mackenzie,” he replied.
How does he know who I am? I hadn’t hung around in Elysium long enough to know this guy, or for him to know me, but I’d heard enough from Harley, Finch, and the others. This wasn’t the type of guy to mess with. I’d have preferred police.
“All right, hang on a sec.” I slid back the cluster of bolts. Keeping the top one on the chain, knowing it likely wouldn’t make a difference, I peered into the hallway.
I expected a misty swarm of shadow. Instead, the most handsome dude I’d ever seen stood in front of me. I did a double take. This couldn’t be Erebus. He had a body, for starters. An odd one, sure, but definitely solid. He wore a sharp, expensive suit of dark gray that hugged every carved muscle. His skin and eyes were unnaturally dark, but even so, I didn’t believe Erebus stood in my doorway.
“Nice try, punk. Who are you?” I glared at him. “Erebus is some floaty wisp in an otherworld. He doesn’t walk around on two feet, and definitely not on planet Earth.” Had someone sent this guy? Someone who knew too much about me, trying to trick me? It wouldn’t be the first time. Helping gangs came with risks, even though they did what they could to protect me.
“I’m still getting used to human form, if that makes you feel better.” He smiled, his black eyes glinting. “But I am Erebus. And I can cure your mother, if you help me in return. A fair exchange.”
“Fine, so what if you’re Erebus? Back up, I mean it. I’ve got a shotgun, and I know how to use it.”
He chuckled. “I knew you would be spirited. I’m pleased you aren’t a disappointment, though be careful what you say to me. I like to be amused, but I don’t care to be insulted. I am trying to aid you, and I’d hate for us to start off on the wrong foot.”
“You shouldn’t even have feet!” I raised my free hand, keeping the shotgun tucked behind me in the other. My Esprit—a plain silver thumb ring—glowed white as I brandished it in his face. The light vanished against his all-black eyes in the strangest way. As if he somehow sucked the light right into them. Weird. Children of Chaos had a certain energy to them—a dangerous energy. And this guy emanated that energy by the bucketload.
“What are you going to do with that?” he taunted.
“Whatever I have to. Don’t test me.” I’d learned a few tricks from my mom before her illness. Magic worked better than a shotgun, though the end result was pretty similar: a stain on the back wall that’d be a nightmare to scrub off.