Doomsday Can Wait (Phoenix Chronicles, #2)(81)

Quickly I glanced back. The stone walkway seemed to stretch for miles. The Hummer sitting at the curb looked the size of a Pekingese. The sun had fallen a lot farther than it should have for the amount of time I thought we'd been gone.

"How long have we been walking?" I asked.

Sawyer, who'd been staring up a stone staircase that disappeared into a dark and shadowy second floor, turned, then shrugged. "Does it matter?"

I felt adrift, confused, and out of my element, which was probably what Summer was after. "Is she messing with time and space?"

"What do you think?" He gestured at the stairway that should not exist in a tiny, one-room Irish cottage.

"Why?"

"Because she can, but she should save her magic for someone who cares. It isn't going to make us run screaming."

"You'll never find him." As Summer's voice echoed through the shadowy darkness of the second floor, the prison seemed to swell, becoming taller and wider. "I won't let you."

There were now at least four floors above us; half a dozen halls led away from the gaping entry. Doors upon doors, hundreds, perhaps thousands, appeared.

"I won't leave," I said quietly, knowing she could hear me. "You can't make me."

Summer appeared on the fourth-floor landing. "Watch me," she said, and jumped.

I flinched before I remembered that she could fly. She floated gently downward, landing in front of me. Wearing her usual tight jeans, boots, and halter top, she'd left her cowboy hat upstairs. Her golden hair sparkled angel-like though her eyes sparked with near-demonic fury.

"Summer, listen—" I began.

She hit me in the face with a fistful of fairy dust. I choked.

"Go away," she said. "Never come here again."

I turned and headed for the door.

"Phoenix," Sawyer murmured, but I didn't care. I had to leave. Now. I would never return. Why had I ever come in the first place?

"Where's Sanducci?" Sawyer demanded.

"Who's Sanducci?" I muttered.

Summer laughed as I stepped out of the gaping hole in the wall and into the orange light of the setting sun. The gargoyles circled, bizarre silhouettes in the sky. The Hummer no longer appeared the size of a Pekingese. It wasn't very far away at all. I'd be there in seconds. Luther and I would go home. I really, really wanted to go home.

However, I'd only taken a few steps when she cried out, and the compulsion to leave drained from me as quickly as a hard rain down a steep gully.

I went inside. Summer and Sawyer faced each other. From her outcry, I figured he'd done something violent, but there wasn't a scratch on her, just a four-leaf clover stuck in her hair.

"Why does your magic suddenly work on me?" I asked.

Summer gave me an evil glare. "You are not on an errand of mercy."

My eyes widened. "Saving the world isn't merciful?"

"You'll hurt him," she said. "Permanently."

"How do you know what I'm up to?" I hadn't talked to her since before we'd found Xander Whitelaw.

She tapped her head. Shorthand for psychic flash.

"Summer, I don't have any choice."

"Go screw a demon. Leave Jimmy alone."

"It's too dangerous," Sawyer said. "As much as I hate to admit it, Sanducci is the best course for her."

"He's in agony over what he is. Forcing him to make her that way, too—" Her eyes met mine. "It'll destroy him."

She was probably right.

"Quit punishing him for something that wasn't his fault."

"This isn't about punishing—" I began, then stopped. "What isn't his fault?"

"Him and me." She looked at her feet. "That was Ruthie."

"I know." Her chin jerked up, and I tapped my own head. "I saw."

"Then how can you—"

"I have to!" I shouted. "Jimmy will understand."

"You wish," Summer said at the same time Sawyer murmured, "I doubt that."

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. Regardless of whether he understood or he didn't, I was still going to do this.

"Where is he?" I asked.

Summer stuck out her tongue.

"Oh, that's mature."

She gave me the finger. Even better.

I glanced at Sawyer. "Can you do something?"

"I've exhausted the magical options," he said. "Saint-John's-wort allowed us to see this place." He held up a hand before I could speak. "And I used all I had to get that far."

So he couldn't make the cavernous gray prison revert to whatever it really was.

"What's up with that?" I lifted my chin to indicate the tiny green plant still stuck in Summer's hair.

"A four-leaf clover blocks her influence."

"She can't sway anyone with her 'make me' dust while she's wearing that?"

"Exactly."

"She can't just yank it out?"

Sawyer gave me a withering glare. "Please," he murmured.

As if to illustrate, Summer swiped at the clover, then hissed in pain as if the thing were embedded in her skull along with her hair.