Trail of Dead (Scarlett Bernard #2)(94)

I shrugged. “You’ve seen The Godfather, Hayne, you know the drill. ‘Someday I may call upon you for a favor’ and all that. You owe me one.”

“I won’t betray any confidences,” he said stubbornly. “Not again.”

I shook my head and stepped off the porch. “Hayne, my man,” I said over my shoulder, “I wouldn’t ask you to.”


By the time I left the little beach house, I was so tired my bones felt rubbery, and the morphine had completely worn off. I hurt everywhere, and it seemed like too much trouble to try to remember any of the specific injuries. My night still wasn’t over, though, not yet. There was one more thing I had to do, and it couldn’t wait.

I called ahead, and Will met me at the front door of Hair of the Dog. He looked exhausted, but still smiled at me the way he always does, part pleasure at being human again and part general good cheer at seeing me. I followed him through the bar and toward the back hallway.

“Ana took her girlfriend back to my place,” he explained as we went. Will had been busy since I’d left: the bodies, glass, and blood were gone, and the floor was still slick with cleaner. It was a little funny that everyone was cleaning up crime scenes today except for me. “I turned a spare bedroom into a secure room for my wolves a few years ago. Lydia will be safe there.”

“Has he woken up yet?” I asked.

Will shook his head. “I check on him every few minutes. The wolfberry is long gone from his system, according to Matthias, but I think he’s still sleeping off the aftereffects from the sedatives.” We arrived at the door to the little janitorial closet, and Will unceremoniously flipped the light switch.

Eli was laid out on the cot, dressed in a clean-looking pair of sweatpants that had been cut off at the knees, and nothing else. The room was warm, and he didn’t even stir when the light went on. I concentrated on my radius. I knew how Eli’s magic felt better than anyone, and the sense of wrongness had vanished.

“Is it okay if I stay with him tonight?” I asked Will.

He nodded immediately. “Of course.” He checked his watch. “If you’re here, I’m going to go home and catch a couple of hours of sleep. I’ll come in an hour or so before opening to finish the cleanup.” He looked up. “But, Scarlett, call me if you need anything. Or if he wakes up and wants to talk. Don’t hesitate, seriously.”

I nodded dully. I was already shrugging out of my jacket. Will waved and took off, turning off all the other lights as he went. I went over and closed the door, but left the lights on, in case one of us had nightmares. I untied my Chuck Taylors and took them off too.

The cot that Will kept in the janitor’s closet wasn’t very big, but I did the best I could to shove Eli over and make room for myself. Instead of lying down, however, I sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, looking at Eli. Expressions danced across his face in his sleep, and I felt a little guilty when it reminded me of a dog kicking its legs as it dreamed. When I was sure I was calm and relaxed, I closed my eyes.

And this time, when I called, the circle was there. No searching, no grasping at edges. I was immediately relieved—some part of me had worried I’d need to be high to do it again. Then I concentrated, not on the circle, but on Eli and his magic, the magic that bonded to his blood and made him a werewolf. It was blocked from him while he was in my radius, but it wasn’t blocked from me. It was there, waiting for Eli to move away from me. Or, I finally realized, waiting for me to do something with it.

I called the magic to me. Or at least, that’s the best way I can describe it. I called the magic past the part of my radius where it was waiting, closer and closer until I could feel it come into me. I held it for a moment, in perfect balance, and there was potential there, potential to do…something? It wasn’t important. Instead, I let Eli’s magic dissolve slowly, bit by bit like sand through my fingers, until it was gone. When I finally opened my eyes, Eli no longer pulsed with magic.

I couldn’t bring any of Olivia’s victims back to life, including the people Eli had killed. I couldn’t save him from that memory, either, or the knowledge that he had taken lives. But I could give him this gift instead: the promise that it could never, ever happen to him again.

Because he was human.

I checked my nose, but there was no blood this time. And I managed to curl up against Eli’s side before I blacked out, which was definitely progress. My last thought before sleep wasn’t of Jesse, or Eli, or the things that had happened between both of them and myself in the past week. No, even though I knew it was temporary, even though I knew there would be much to face the next day, my last thought was of peace.





Acknowledgments


During the writing and editing of this book I spent months in bed with hyperemesis gravidarum and other fun pregnancy ailments, and I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my friends and family who provided vital support, help, and love while I was sick. I especially want to extend my gratitude to my parents, my forgiving and often saintlike husband, and my elder daughter, who will hopefully not be scarred by the months of excessive television privileges. All my love to Molly, who was born perfect anyway, and who is definitely not named after the vampire in this book. I promise.

I don’t live in Los Angeles anymore, so I definitely owe a big thank you to Tracy Tong, who served as my LA advisor on this book especially. She’s the person I can count on to know what parts of the city wouldn’t have graffiti and what brands of dresses Olivia might have worn. Thank you to my old friend Brian Frederick, who probably didn’t attend medical school just to answer my bizarre questions, but who was always gracious enough to answer them anyway, and to author Lori Devoti, whose class at the UW-Madison School of Continuing Studies was a major contributor to the structure and first chapter of this book. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.