Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(96)
The backseat real y wasn’t meant for four people, especial y when two of them were wel -built guys. The old beater lurched into motion and I ended up squished, my hips wedged between the raver and Death, my hands stil cuffed behind my back and a dog in my lap. The raver was crammed against the far door, and the gray man ended up twisted, with one hip more on the door than the seat.
As my bare shoulder pressed against the raver’s, she jumped, her eyes flaring wide. “What the—”
“It’s Alex,” Death said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, which gave everyone a smidgen more room.
“She’s touching you and the car.”
The raver’s eyes were stil a little too wide, like she wasn’t sure if she was impressed or pissed. She trailed her wasn’t sure if she was impressed or pissed. She trailed her fingers over the molding on the door, and I wondered, not for the first time, what the col ectors actual y saw and felt in this plane. She had, after al , climbed into the car, but clearly it hadn’t been entirely real to her until now. Just as long as I don’t accidentally pull them far enough across for them to become visible. Or maybe I should. It would give the goons a good scare if three extra people appeared in their backseat.
“Freaky,” she said, dropping her hand.
“So, uh, hi, guys. You might have noticed, I’m handcuffed in the back of a car and am being taken against my wil . So is this a social visit, or are you planning to help?”
Goon Two twisted in his seat and looked back at me.
“Did you say something?”
I dropped my gaze, focusing on PC. He was trembling in the purse, clearly aware that something was very wrong but not sure what to do about it.
“What do you expect us to do? Rip out their souls?” the raver asked, and I frowned. “Even that one”—she pointed at Death—“isn’t that foolish—yet.”
“And we intend to keep it that way,” the gray man muttered from the other end of the seat.
Why do I get the feeling I’ve landed in the middle of a long-running argument? “So why are we al crammed in this backseat together?”
“Like I said, we reached a consensus.” The raver twisted so she could look at me better. “You already know too much
—”“Though he swears he didn’t tel you.” The gray man tapped the skul -topped cane on Death’s knee.
“—So we’ve decided to employ your help,” the raver said, though she didn’t look happy about it. “You can go places we can’t.”
The gray man cupped his hands over the skul . “Namely, Faerie.”
I frowned at the col ectors. “You can’t go to Faerie?”
I frowned at the col ectors. “You can’t go to Faerie?”
The raver shrugged and her dreadlocks brushed my shoulder. They were stiffer than they looked. “Our planes don’t touch. There is no death in Faerie.” She smiled like she’d made a joke.
I didn’t laugh. “If you want me to go anywhere, I have to get out of this car first.”
“We can’t interfere with such mortal matters.” The gray man focused on Death, not me, as he spoke.
Right. So much for this being a rescue. “So what’s in Faerie?”
The raver glanced at the two male col ectors. Then she said, “You are aware we have a . . . situation.”
I nodded. The rogue reaper. “But if you can’t go to Faerie, he can’t either, right?”
“No. But he has a mortal accomplice.”
“Who is the one who cast the constructs,” I said. I’d already reached that conclusion. While the constructs might have been fueled by stolen souls, they were control ed by witch magic. Those copper disks existed in the mortal plane—a col ector wouldn’t have been able to touch them.
The raver nodded. “Our magic debased to vulgarity and tarnished with mortal conjurings,” she said, her mouth twisting like talking about it carried a bad taste.
Nice to know her apparent dislike of me is nothing personal—she dislikes mortals in general. I rol ed my shoulders, trying to ease the pain in my arms and back. Not exactly easy in this situation. Or real y, more like not possible. The itching around my wrists had turned to a dul burning and my fingers were slowly fal ing asleep.
I glanced at Death. He’d been awful y quiet throughout this conversation. “So you want me to find the accomplice in Faerie?”
“No, I don’t,” he said, and the gray man rapped him on the knee again with his cane.
“But we do need you to find the accomplice,” the gray man said, shooting Death a glare.
man said, shooting Death a glare.
The constructs were souls wrapped in glamour and control ed by charms etched with runes that hadn’t been used in half a mil ennium. That did seem to point to Faerie, but...
“The accomplice isn’t in Faerie. Hol y was kidnapped and a note was left demanding that I go to the old bridge at two tonight. The magic in the seal is similar to that in the constructs. The accomplice you’re looking for wil be there.”
Which was al the more reason for me to get free of this car.
Death’s arm tightened around my shoulder, but it was the gray man who said, “Then we wil be at that bridge, but this rendezvous has the markings of a trap. The accomplice might not appear.”