She looked up into my eyes-I was taller than her by several inches even though she was wearing heels and I wasn’t. Her eyes were the same color as her coat.
“Your father was a vicious and determined man. In life. And in death. I came by to see how badly he has hurt you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I am a member of the Authority. I am here to see that his death, his spirit, has not harmed you.”
What had Zayvion said? There were powerful people watching me, waiting for me to do something wrong with magic so they could kill me. Was Maeve my killer?
I took a deep breath and looked at her. Really looked at her. She didn’t seem to be harboring a burning desire to off me. Which would put her several steps up from the company I’d been keeping lately.
“Maybe we can go inside and talk about it?” she offered.
“I thought you people were all about keeping a low profile,” I said as I walked toward my door.
“We are. But I believe that no longer suits both of our interests.”
I put the key in my lock and paused. “You aren’t here to kill me, are you?”
She laughed-and I mean really giggled-like that was the best joke she’d heard in years. “Where did you get that idea? I just told you I’m here to see that you are unharmed. Why would I kill you if I’m here to help you?”
“You’re the people who have been watching me, right? Waiting for me to misuse magic.”
“That’s right,” she said. “And we’ve seen everything you’ve done. Everything he did too.”
“Who?”
She pointed at my head. “Your father.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“Everything.”
At my look, she went on. “There has been a… review… among the Authority. A discussion of what to do with you. Mr. Jones has been fiercely insisting you be allowed into the group, that you be allowed the teachings your father denied you.”
“Does Zayvion’s opinion have that much sway?”
“He is not without a voice among us. And he brings up valid points. If what he says is true…” She shook her head. “Well, it’s only logical for us to see that you are not judged unfairly. Are you interested in our offer?”
“To teach me about magic?”
She nodded. “To teach you the unknown about magic.”
“I suppose it will cost me if I say yes.”
“It will. The first price being to trust in me, so that I can see what sort of damage your father may have done to you.”
I so wasn’t up to dealing with this right now. I just got out of the hospital, for cripes’ sakes. I should just tell her to go away. Go back to her little club and tell them I was not interested. The problem was, I was interested. I wanted to know what my father had done to me, wanted to know what the Life and Death glyphs meant. Wanted to know what Frank Gordon had been doing to my father’s body. And to me.
And if someone in this city knew how I could keep from getting screwed over every time I used magic, I’d like to know. Even if it meant joining the secret clubhouse.
I unlocked my door and opened it, holding it so she could walk in past me.
I waved toward the living room. “Have a seat. I’m going to get changed.”
I passed the bathroom and threw the plastic bag of clothes on the floor near the hamper. In my bedroom, I got out of the hospital sweats and into a pair of loose jeans and a thick wool sweater.
When I came back out into the living room, Maeve was sitting on the edge of my couch. The blanket Zayvion had slept under was folded neatly on the arm of the couch. The food we’d never gotten around to eating was still on the table, along with the single, dead pink rose.
“Sorry about the mess,” I said.
“That’s fine,” she said in a sincere and motherly way. “And I promise this won’t hurt. I’ll tell you everything I’m doing as I do it, and you can ask me to stop at any time.”
“I’m not made of glass,” I said.
“Ready, then?”
“Yes.”
She patted the couch next to her and I sat.
“I need to touch your hand or your leg,” she began patiently, like maybe she had talked a lot of people through this before.
I held out my right hand and she took it in both of hers.
No weaving of glyphs, no chanting; Maeve simply closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes again.
But instead of deep forest green, her eyes were shot with lines of silver. I knew, without a doubt, that she had called on some kind of Sight. And that she was using it to look
Very sneaky.
Maybe, if I pulled on my Sight, I could see what she was doing, but I felt as burnt out inside as a month- old forest fire. No magic for me for a while, if I could at all help it.
I wondered what she was looking for. Wondered if it was in me.
The moth-wing flutter started up in the back of my head again. Then went deathly still.
Maeve frowned. “There is much of you that is hidden, Allie,” she said in an isn’t-this-interesting way. “And much of you forgotten. Your father… he… parts of him are still with you.”
“Parts of him?” I asked. “Like my memories of him, right?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Pieces of his soul? Tell me I don’t have parts of my dead dad in me.”
And even though I would have sworn I was too tired to panic, I felt the clutch of fear in my stomach and my heart started racing. I didn’t want anything to do with my dead dad, didn’t want him talking to me, didn’t want him touching me. And I sure as hell didn’t want him
Maeve blinked. The silver drained from her eyes. She let go of my hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not sure.”
“You don’t know if bits of my dead dad are left inside me? Aren’t you some sort of expert on this?”
She nodded. “Many would say I am. But your father, Allie…” She stopped pinching her nose and leaned back a bit. “He has always been a difficult man to pin down.”
“Which means?”
“Which means I think your father left something in your mind, probably couched in your memories. I am not sure what it is nor how much of his own… soul… he left with it. It could just be an echo, an aftereffect from the massive amounts of magic you and he used.
“And he pulled that magic through you, using your body as his own. It is unheard of…” She muttered, like maybe if she hadn’t been just looking at me, she wouldn’t believe it possible. “That it did so little damage to you- physical pain and some memory loss-is bloody amazing. Anyone should be dead from what happened to you in that warehouse.”
It’s great to be special. “Well,” I said, trying not to show how crappy I really felt. “I’m not dead.”
She smiled in a motherly way. “No, you aren’t.” She stood up. “And I think you will be fine between now and when you come to learn. I’ll be able to see better just what you father has done when you come to my place. I don’t want to keep you.” She walked to my door.
Wasn’t she in a big hurry all of a sudden?
“No need to show me out. Get some sleep, take your painkillers. And call me when you’re back on your feet. Here’s my number. I’ll tell you how to find me.” She put a business card down on the half wall between my front hallway and kitchen.
I stood and followed her, even though she had told me not to.
She opened the door. “And, Allie? You are healing. I hope you get well
