I had to turn my head to glance again at Phoebe, who was laughing just as hard as the rest. She grinned and winked at me. “We’re going to be all right, girl. I knew we would.”
I felt a prickling under my eyelids and had to bite my lip to keep from making a bigger spectacle of myself by crying over having my friend back—really back. I’d have to work harder to make sure I kept her this time.
Dinner was delicious and we enjoyed ourselves. Phoebe promised to call when she’d found all the books she’d mentioned, which I hoped would throw some light on what I might be dealing with and why the tunnel construction was causing such havoc. But things went a bit sour as Quinton and I said our good-byes and headed out the door.
Quinton paused on the stoop outside the restaurant to kiss my cheek and swing his backpack on. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”
I blinked at him. “Later? You’re not coming home now?”
“No. I have to get out to Northlake and fix a few things—or more to the point, break them. It will probably take most of the night. I don’t want to disturb you, so I’ll catch some sleep on my own and see you tomorrow. OK?” he added, turning away to walk off into the settling summer night.
“No.”
He turned back, looking genuinely puzzled. “What?”
“It’s not OK. I haven’t seen you in two days and I think we need to talk.”
“When did my being independent become a problem?” Through the Grey side of my vision, I could see he was letting off annoyed red sparks.
“It’s not. But your father is. You have put him at the top of your priority list to the degree that you aren’t paying any attention to anything else. You’re not acting independent—you’re acting obsessed. And I haven’t even had the chance to tell you he popped up on my trail yesterday.”
“He what? Where? What did he want?”
“He didn’t exactly say, but I got the impression he was taking my measure to see if he could use me against you. Or drive me off if he thought I was a threat. We had a little argument. With fists. Did you know he carries a combat baton and isn’t shy about using it?”
Quinton was appalled, his energy corona jumping with bolts of red, orange, and green, and he grabbed my shoulders. “Jesus, Harper! Are you all right?”
I nodded, pulling back from him so I could keep an eye on his face. I felt fatigued by my vision and our argument and my voice was sharper than I’d intended. “I’m fine. It wasn’t that much of a fight—he wasn’t trying very hard and, like I said, he was mostly taking my measure.”
“Did he say anything about the project . . . ? Did he know about you?”
“You mean the Greywalking stuff? He didn’t seem to. I didn’t give him any cause to find out, but if he’s still following me around or has set someone on me, he may twig to it, especially if the friends-with-fangs get me involved. The current case is pretty deep into ghost country and you’ve said that all things paranormal are his current interest. If he’s even half as savvy as you were when we met, he’ll figure out my connection.”
“You have to stay away from him.” His anxiety was turning the air around him fiery orange.
“That is not up to me. If he wants to follow me, or if Cameron and his people call me in, all I can do is try to shake the tails off when they appear. I can’t go into hiding. He has to back off on his own.”
Quinton started to say something but was interrupted by a couple of restaurant patrons trying to get out of the door we were blocking. He took me by the arm and led me a few feet down the block, out of sight of the restaurant and into a shadow where we would be hard to observe. “Harper, my dad is dangerous. I know you can’t take him out, but you need to be wary of him.”
I had to close my eyes for a second, the injured one uncomfortable and itchy from my straining to see without the veil of Grey fog between me and the world. “I’m well aware of that,” I said as I reopened my eyes. “But short of going straight at him and putting an end to this—which would signal an escalation on our part and make him more anxious to either control us or break us up—there is little I can do to stay out of his way. I’m not asking you to do anything about it. I’m only telling you what happened, since I haven’t had the chance before now. If you’re working on some way of getting out of his reach permanently, you need to have all the facts about what he’s up to.”
“I appreciate that, Harper. But I’m going to worry and freak out, anyway. You don’t want to see some of the things that he’s doing to the paranormals he’s managed to get hold of.”
“Like what? And how did he ‘get hold’ of anything?”
“I don’t know how he got most of them. Some he brought back from some other project in Europe—don’t ask about it because I don’t know. Here he’s directing experiments. It’s like something out of a horror movie. And he’s not alone—he has a support unit. He’s a monster and I don’t want him near you.”
I was taken aback for a moment, but that didn’t change the situation. “Then find a way to stop him. He’s not going to give up keeping tabs on me as long as I’m of any potential use to him—which will be as long as he still wants to force you to work with him. I’m trying to give him no reason to tag me, but it’s unlikely, given his interests, that I can dodge him completely. And I certainly can’t lower my profile as a person of interest while I’m hanging out with ghosts and people who are manifesting mediumistic behavior. He wants to know more about ghosts and monsters and, sorry to say, I’m one of the resident experts. When he figures that out, he’ll press you even harder.”
“He might not figure it out.” His aura had gone an uncomfortable shade of green.
I gave him a disbelieving stare. “Right. He’s going to be stupid and blind where I’m concerned. Because he’s been such a big blind idiot up until now. Gods, I’m tired,” I added, not really meaning to say so aloud as I put one cold hand over my injured eye. “So tired of this . . .”
Quinton put his hands on my shoulders and tried to pull me to him, but I resisted. “Harper . . . what’s wrong?”
“Aside from this whole situation with your dad . . . ? I can’t see normally out of my left eye at the moment. It’s all Grey all the time, which is making my life and my work a lot more complicated than usual.”
“You didn’t say—”
“You haven’t been around enough.”
He threw up his hands and glared up at the sky in exasperation. “I’m never around! You’re acting like an abandoned spouse! That’s not how we operate, is it?”
“It wasn’t. But for the past six or eight months, you’ve been at my place more often than on the street like you used to be. Didn’t you notice that’s where your dad found you? And I
He seemed to ignore the deeper implications of my statement. “Are you saying you’re a liability . . . ?”
My turn to thrash my head in exasperation. “No! I’m just trying to get you to recognize the pattern we
Quinton took a deep, angry breath, the energy around him turning dark red before it bled away on the exhale. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Don’t do anything foolish,” I warned, a chilly sense of doom settling over me.
He pressed his lips tightly together, stubborn and not willing to discuss it further with me.
“Quinton, I’m with you, no matter what. Just . . . respond to messages more often, will you?” It wasn’t what I wanted to say, but anything else was either stupid or a waste of breath. For all that he seemed an easygoing guy, Quinton was as devious and stubborn as his dad and wouldn’t take kindly to any demands of mine where that sneaky bastard was concerned.
He relented a little and gave me a hug, whispering into my ear, “I’ll take care of this. I love you. And I’ll stay in better touch. I promise. Just be careful, sweetheart.”
I kissed his cheek, unenthusiastic about the situation. “I’ll be as careful as you are. And I’ll come after your ass if you get yourself in dutch with Daddy.”
“Don’t you dare,” he whispered.
“You won’t have any say in the matter.” I backed away from him, my face feeling stiff with a lack of warmth. “I’ll see you later.”
He just looked at me a moment, then shrugged—not a truly insouciant shrug, just a faked one—and turned
