Sin & Spirit (Demigod of San Francisco #4)(67)

I wiped my nose—force of habit when it felt like I was crying—and moved around to her front, bending so I could see her face. Her swollen face, which looked like it had been smashed against something.

“Jack would never do this,” I said, straightening again. I wasn’t helping her by staring. I had to get moving. “He said he didn’t remember, and I know he wasn’t lying. Who could have—”

Jack drifted in through the wall beside me. He looked around, his gaze coming to land on me. “What the fuck? Where am I?”

Harding started laughing. It was anything but funny.

“Crap, sorry. I must’ve pulled you here by thinking about you. I’m all screwed up in this plane.” I walked to the door and held out a hand on impulse. “If people can sense my soul as I am now, would it be better for me to return to that shadowy body to see if anyone’s in this room?”

“Very few magical people can feel souls the way you do, even those who possess others or use others to travel through spirit,” Harding said. “And no one in the world right now can rip a soul out of a body the way you can. Trust me, I’ve been looking. Spirit Walkers don’t come often, and they don’t seem to last long with the violence that surrounds them—as you’re learning. You’re safe for now.”

“Look what I did.” The words were like a tire leaking. Guilt lined Jack’s face. He bent down to Daisy. “I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to explain, or beg for forgiveness. I won’t be able to let her get revenge.”

“She’ll get revenge,” I said, readying myself to walk through another wall. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I pushed into the next room, my determination stronger than the strangeness of walking through walls. This room was nearly as bare but for a desk with no chair and a couch with a mess of papers on one cushion pushed against the far wall. A closed door led out to what I suspected was a hall in a small-scale business building. Judging by the lack of cars, an unused small-scale business building.

A woman stood in the corner holding a laptop, her body bowed with fatigue and her hair a messy halo tucked into a ponytail. A white cord ran from the computer to the headphones she wore. The man on the screen was a stern-faced stranger, with red cheeks and a bulbous nose.

“Yes, sir, I know that. I do,” the woman said. “But when I came to, I was already at the rendezvous point and confused as all hell. It was too late to dump the body and reconvene.”

The man spoke in what seemed like short bursts, his head bobbing with whatever points he was making. Her shoulders tightened and she jammed her left hand onto her hip. She was clearly frustrated with whatever she was hearing.

“As I told the others, I have a black spot in my memory from the time I took down the Kraken to when I ended up here. I came to standing in the middle of the room, staring down at my phone crushed under my foot.” The man barked out some words. “Yes, sir, but as you recall from what I just said, I didn’t have a phone with which to call. It was crushed.”

I headed to the desk, hoping there was any info on it about where we were. My spectral limbs dragged, getting tired. I pulled power from the Line and the spirit around me to keep me going, but time was running out, I could feel it. I’d need to head back and recharge.

“Yes, sir, as you see. But it took a while to get the Wi-Fi working. I had to hack into a local business, and I only have a basic understanding of computers. I’m not typically a field operative without support.”

“Alexis.” Jack shivered before looking back at the wall. “I hate that feeling.” He spotted the woman in the corner. His eyes turned to slits. “That bitch is the one that took me down.”

“Yeah, I know.” I couldn’t get into any of the drawers, but there likely wasn’t anything in them anyway. This place was a shell. I hurried to the couch, looking down at the papers. Code and computer gobbledygook. I had no idea what any of it meant, but regardless, it wasn’t the location. “She had a memory blackout, too. Sounds like you two were hoodwinked somehow.”

“Magic,” Jack said.

“Well, yes, that is what your whole world runs on,” Harding said. “Some spirits get a case of the stupids when they lose their bodies, but this is ridiculous.”

“I was just thinking about what kind of magic it could be, dumb shit,” Jack retorted.

“Yeah. I’m the dumb shit,” Harding said, looking out the window. “I gave you a hint and still you are in the dark.”

“What?” I asked, jogging toward the door. “What hint? What do you know?”

Harding put up his hands. “Here’s what I don’t know—where we are. Anything else is unimportant right now. You’re running out of steam.”

He was right. I needed to get the show on the road.

“How come I’m not running out of steam?” Jack asked.

“Because you don’t have a body, and she is acting as your anchor.” Harding crossed his arms, not as helpful in all this as I would’ve hoped.

“Okay, I’ll just pop outside and…find some street signs. Jack, go look through that red car. Maybe there is an address. Harding…come with me, just in case…”

Before I could dash through the door, the woman said, “Yes, sir. What should I do with the body? I’ve heard the new Demigod of San Francisco is smart. If they find the body here, they can probably trace—” The man cut her off before the screen went dark. She huffed, clicked the computer closed, yanked the earbuds from her ears, and tossed the whole lot onto the couch. “Sure, transport a bleeding dead body in a trunk with nothing to wrap it in. Great.” She rolled her neck and stretched. “Fuck it, I can just strangle her and dump the car.” She looked around before throwing up her hands. “But what the hell do I wipe the car down with? My bra? This is bullshit. How the hell do they expect me to work like this and actually pull off the job?”