Doomsday Can Wait (Phoenix Chronicles, #2)(59)

"You—you said you could practice glamour but you chose to. Beauty is fleeting."

"You call this beauty?" she asked. "I call it youth. Two very different things. Youth is worth having. Aches and pains, my memory was fading, my magic would go next, along with several other very important talents. I couldn't have that."

"So you—" I paused. I had no idea what she might have done. But I had a pretty good idea what Sawyer had.

Whenever things changed—people became more magical, more powerful, more anything—and Sawyer was around, sex was involved.

Carla had said, Payment must be made. And since Sawyer had left home a little short on pockets and long on paws, he'd depended on me for cash.

But he hadn't used cash this time. I doubted he used cash very much at all.

I turned away. Last night had obviously been one more in a long line of meaningless nights to him. I shouldn't be surprised, couldn't afford to be angry or hurt. For Sawyer, sex was business. I doubted he was capable of understanding it as anything else.

I returned my attention to Carla. "You bypassed the curse and in turn he made you young?"

"I bypassed the curse," she agreed. "He paid me as I asked; the result was that my dream came true."

She was talking gibberish. But magic so often was. I let it go. I really didn't want a play-by-play.

"How do you kill a Naye'i?" I demanded.

"I don't know."

My heart took a slow, painful tumble toward my squeaky Mexican sandals. "But—"

"There is someone who might."

My heart now leaped toward my throat. I was getting nauseous.

She smiled beatific-ally. Were her teeth whiter? "His name is Xander Whitelaw."

"Xander? As in Alexander?"

Carta's forehead wrinkled. "I never considered that, but you are probably right. You kids are so clever with your nicknames these days."

Obviously Carla hadn't been watching Buffy reruns, unlike me. I doubted I'd be watching them again if I ever got near a television for more than a minute. They just wouldn't be fun anymore.

Since Carla now appeared about ten years younger than me, the term you kids nearly made me laugh. Would have if I didn't want to put my fist through her brand-new face.

"He is a professor at Brownport Bible College," she said. "In southern Indiana. He teaches a course on prophesy."

"Ours or theirs?" I muttered.

"Oh, ours, I'd say. The layman knows nothing about the Book of Samyaza."

"What do you know about it?" I asked.

"No more than you, I'm sure. I've never seen it or known anyone who did."

"No rumors of a location? No tingles about its truth or falsehood?"

"I'm sure it's true."

I shouldn't have bothered to ask. Carla was the one who'd told me about the whole balance-in-the-universe theory in the first place. Of course she'd believe in the validity of the Satanic verses.

"I've never heard a whisper about where the thing might be hidden," she continued.

She could be lying, but why? I put aside the issue of the Book of Samyaza for the moment. "Getting back to Xander Whitelaw," I said.

"He's written several books on Revelatory prophecy."

"Good for him. I know the prophecies." Kind of. "What I need is to discover how to kill an unkillable evil spirit."

"Xander did not begin as a prophecy professor. That came after his original interest in obscure supernatural legends gave rise to some interesting questions." \

My ears perked up. "He's one of us?"

Carla shook her head, and her long, gleaming, pure black hair swung. "He has no special powers—not a breed, not psychic, just curious."

"I'd think he would be helpful to have on board if he's been researching obscure supernatural legends."

"That is up to you," she said. "Ruthie had me keeping an eye on him, monitoring his research, his papers and his lectures."

"In case something interesting turned up."

Carla smiled. "If you think, after meeting him, that he should be told of the federation, asked to join us in our work, it is your choice. You are the boss now."

I didn't feel like the boss, probably because no one ever listened to my orders. Sure, Summer had gone after Jimmy. Then she'd nabbed him and disappeared, against my express orders. I should probably do something about that once I caught up to her, but how did one punish a fairy?

I glanced at Sawyer, who leaned against the wall near the front door, staring outside as if waiting for an attack. I doubted he'd ever taken orders from anyone, or ever would, especially not from me.

And since every other member of my elite team was hiding, missing, or dead, and I couldn't give them orders even if I had orders to give, my position as "the boss" wasn't as impressive as it should be.

I returned my attention to the benandanti. "You've been watching Professor Whitelaw," I began, then paused. "Exactly how have you been watching him when you were too decrepit to leave your house?"

Her eyes widened like bluebonnets beneath the sun. "Why would I need to leave the house to watch him?"

"Minions?" I asked.