Out of Body

“You and I need to talk,” Sykes said. “And with him. Can we go to your flat?”

Without a word, the two of them took off.

Winnie ran back and forth to the foot of the stairs.

“What is it, girl?” Gray said. A sharp sting crossed his face, caught the corner of his eye and he winced.

Gray kept his back to Willow. Horror choked him. He concentrated and felt drawn to Marley’s workroom.

Winnie squeaked at him. She jumped up and down until Gray approached her. Off she went, up the stairs, looking like a mutant greyhound jumping fences.

“Go with her,” Willow said.

“Make sure your cell phone’s on,” Gray said.

“I won’t need it.”

He didn’t respond. Instead he vaulted, three steps at a time, up the three flights. Already hoping his tested methods would unlock the door, he reached for the deep colors of the leaded glass and grasped the handle.

The door wasn’t even closed.

Gray shot inside and shut the thing behind him, leaned on it, almost afraid to go farther into the room.

Pressure held him, pummeled him. His ear drums hurt so badly he sank to his knees.

Wet. Winnie licking his face with desperate fierceness focused him and he got to his feet. The whispering voices bombarded him, forcing themselves to find space, one over the other, vying for his attention.

“I can’t understand you,” he said.

The ceiling whirled with a kaleidoscope of colored lights, spun faster and faster. Gray forced himself to keep his eyes down and made his way through Marley’s projects to her bench.

Curls of red lacquer littered the worktop as did pieces that seemed to be broken off the house. He picked up a piece. It was so hot he almost dropped it.

He turned it over on the bench and saw it was the door that had been at one corner. The walls came together as if it had never been there now, except that rather than red, the finish was a dark salmon color, and painted to look rough. Like stucco.

“You have to go.” This was no whisper. This was a clear voice and Gray saw what he expected, the ethereal image of the one who called himself the Mentor.

“Go where?” he said. “Tell me. Quickly, please.”

“Look at the house. It’s there. She told me it would be.”

“Marley told you?” Gray said.

“No.” The man sounded impatient. “The one who gave Marley the house for safekeeping. Belle came to me and said the house holds the key. Now get to work.”

“I can’t do what Marley does.” He touched the roof and raised his hand. “See, nothing happens. I don’t feel anything.”

“Be patient.”

“I can’t.”

“I am Jude,” the man said. “They called me Judas because they blamed me for the evil acts of someone I should not have trusted. A woman who caused the family to be shunned and driven from their home. I married that woman.

“They said I proved the Millet curse of the dark-haired ones—that evil befalls the family whenever a male Millet child does not have red hair. I have been patient waiting to clear my name. You will be patient finding what you want most. Continue with the house. It will give us the answer.”

Gray rubbed his hands together and picked up a little chisel that felt ridiculously flimsy.

“You can’t stop until we have the answer.”

He slid the thinnest end of the blade beneath loose lacquer and peeled it away. More of the pinkish-brown finish appeared.

Abruptly, his face stung.

He had been slapped, hard.

She was him and he was her. One. Bonded.

The pain was hers.

They were hurting Marley.

Chapter 45

With her hands tied behind her back and her ankles lashed together, Marley leaned against a wall to keep her balance.

Her cheek hurt and the corner of her left eye felt as if one of Sidney’s nails had cut the skin.

The slap had come without warning. Sidney stood in front of her and brought her face down to Marley’s. “Pretty pattern,” she said, poking at the marks she must have made. “Ugly, freckled white skin.” She tugged Marley’s hair. “Ugly hair.” She pulled until Marley sucked in a breath.

Sidney laughed. “You can cry, if you like.”

How silly she had been to come with Sidney just because she had begged and cajoled. They had sneaked out of the Court of Angels through the alley gate and driven away—who knew where—in Sidney’s BMW.

The room where she’d been taken finally had pretty furniture, old, not as old as most that Marley dealt with, but nice. “You said you needed my help, then you do this. What’s your point?”

Sidney hit the other side of her face and grinned. “You’ve interfered. Now you need to tell me what I have to know. I’ll make points that way—those are the points that matter. I need information to pass along. How did you find out about me?”

Marley frowned. “You were Amber’s singing partner. Amber’s missing. I found out about you that way. When I saw you at Scully’s that was the first time I saw you. I heard about you that afternoon.”

“Don’t pretend you’re dumb. We know what you’ve found out.”

“Then you don’t need to ask the questions, do you?” Marley said, bracing for another slap.

Sidney put the tip of a high heel on Marley’s sandal-shod foot and applied weight.

Tears welled in Marley’s eyes and she choked with pain. She wrestled with the rope around her wrists, and she listened, longing for the whispers of the Ushers.

At first there had been a few moments when she had been left alone and that music she had heard before played. The music reminded her of the creature, but she still expected to reach help, most especially Gray. But then a sensation like slick fluid washing over her left momentary numbness in its wake. Since then she had been unable even to try to touch another mind. After that, she had not felt or seen anything beyond her immediate surroundings.

Her powers were being contained, but she had no idea how.

Was it this place that restricted her, some element there?

“Eric will be back soon,” Sidney said, smiling. “He’ll persuade you to help us.”

Eric was Sidney’s brother. He had been waiting for them in the black BMW after Sidney had managed to get into the shop and find Marley without being seen. Marley hadn’t noticed Eric in the backseat until he tapped her shoulder. Less striking than Sidney, he was still good-looking and dressed like a successful businessman in a dark silk suit.

Marley hadn’t liked the expression in his eyes. He looked at her with flat dislike, she thought.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, with Sidney driving and Eric behind her, she discovered she had read his feelings about her accurately.

Marley had been helpless to stop him from tying a blindfold around her eyes. The gun Sidney pointed at her, even without looking at her, made sure she didn’t try any heroics.

They had brought her here before removing that blindfold.

“You’ve made him angry,” Sidney said.

“Eric?” Marley said. “How?”

“You know who I’m talking about and it isn’t Eric. You’ve done something stupid and now we’re in danger. You’ve got to be stopped and he will do it.”