Indigo(64)

“More than it knows, too.”

For a moment Nora thought she meant Indigo, and she felt a moment of sharp anger at this strange woman who’d intruded into her life. But when she glanced sidelong at Selene, Nora saw a strange look in the woman’s eyes. She was staring through Nora’s eyes, deeper, seeking something darker. Seeking Damastes.

“Can you really help me?” Nora asked, hardly daring to hope.

“I think so. There’s more information we need about the ritual when you were … infected, and how such a thing could happen. I know plenty about the murder god’s nature.”

Liar, Damastes drawled.

“If we discover everything about what was done to you, I believe I can help you combat it.”

Witch.

“But you have to let me help you, Nora.”

Bitch!

“I will let you,” Nora said, enjoying that Damastes sounded rattled. It seeded a newfound confidence in her. “But it will have to be on my terms.”

“So what’s first?”

“First, I need to settle something from the past. Something that might also help you help me. Sam’s been working on this for me, and hopefully soon I’ll be able to start looking for some answers.” Nora checked her phone screen, but there were still no texts. She couldn’t let it worry her, not yet. Trapped as he was in the hospital, it might take Sam longer than normal to track down the information she needed.

“The names from the list,” Selene said. “Yes, good. That will help us both.”

Nora felt an unexpected rush of confidence and well-being, one of those clear, bright moments that always came as a surprise and rarely lasted long enough. It was doubly surprising that it should sweep over her now, and she glanced again at the woman who had first fought her, then fought with her.

Witch, Damastes said, his voice tinged with humor this time.

“But the very first thing is coffee. I’m asleep on my feet.” Nora nodded at a coffee shop at the corner. “Best in town.”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Freak.” Nora walked into the coffee shop ahead of Selene, breathing in deeply and enjoying the warm, heady aromas of freshly ground beans. How could someone not drink coffee and still function like a normal person? It would be like not breathing.

Damastes started to say something. She felt him draw breath, even though he didn’t breathe. She sensed him gathering his words, preparing to speak, and she paused by the coffee counter, hands fisted, eyes staring straight through the barista as the young man asked what he could get her.

She tried her best—

I’m going to kill her with your hands, and you’ll feel the meat of her as I tear her apart.

—but Damastes was too strong. His words broke through, their presence heavy and dark, warm, intimate.

“Miss?” the man asked again.

“Double espresso,” she said, breathing hard. “No … triple.”

“Need a pick-me-up, eh?”

“More than you know.”

While her coffee was being made, she looked at Selene standing outside on the sidewalk. Nora needed this stranger’s help more than anything else. If only Selene could deliver on her promises.

As Nora paid, her phone buzzed. A text from Sam: Got one and he’s close, followed by an address in Brooklyn. She scanned the address twice, downed her espresso in one, and hurried outside.

“Brooklyn. We’ll get a cab. You’re paying.” Traveling through shadows would be quicker, but she knew she couldn’t take Selene with her. Although leaving her behind was tempting, she knew that this woman had quickly become part of her life.

Selene hailed a cab while Nora checked the text again. While she stood on the street and New York continued breathing and pulsing around her, Nora and Sam had a brief, hurried text conversation. Sam had found an address for a name on the short list of survivors from the ritual twelve years ago. Matt O’Hagan lived on a street she didn’t know in Brooklyn. Sam had dug up more info, too—unmarried, a teacher, O’Hagan had been unemployed for several years following some sort of accident. Sam was still digging to see what that might have entailed, but right then Nora didn’t care. She could question O’Hagan about her past, the ritual, and what had happened to her there. Indigo had seen to it that many other people who might have been able to reveal such information were now dead, so Nora was determined to make this attempt work.

“You might have to torture him,” Selene said, touching Nora’s arm and steering her toward a cab.

Nora bristled at the comment, shocked and afraid. Indigo did not. Deeper down, Damastes seemed to swell with delight at the idea.

“After everything that’s happened, maybe he’ll be ready to talk,” Nora said. She and Selene sat in the back of the cab, and Nora told the driver the address.

“More than likely ready to throw himself from a rooftop,” Selene said.

Nora leaned back and stared from the window. New York crept by outside as the cab stopped and started south along Park Avenue. The city had been her home for a long time, but being closed off inside a cab made the outside seem like more of an alien place than ever. People went about their business with no idea what dangers dwelled around them. They walked from light to shadow and back again, too wrapped up in their day-to-day lives to discern the greater, deeper events going on in the wider world. The city wore a mask, and they were constituent parts of it.