Grave Dance (28 page)

“Taxi? It’s the middle of the night. Girl should be sleeping.”

I didn’t disagree, but unfortunately, going back to bed wasn’t an option. I whistled for PC, and Osier bristled as the smal dog pranced into the room.

“Outta my kitchen,” he yel ed, charging forward with the spoon.

I scooped up PC before the brownie could reach him.

“He’l be out in a second,” I said, and then looked around for my purse. I’d left it in the bedroom. The taxi horn honked a second time as I dropped PC on the bed before opening my purse and encouraging him to crawl inside. I didn’t like the idea of taking PC with me to meet the kidnapper and make the exchange—even if I would have police backup—

but leaving him alone with Osier wasn’t an option.

The brownie was muttering about good girls, curfews, and bedtimes when I walked out the door. I left him to it, and and bedtimes when I walked out the door. I left him to it, and I actual y hoped to see the grumpy little guy again—more so because if I didn’t see him again, it would probably mean I was in jail.
And headed for Faerie.

Or dead.

The cabdriver wasn’t happy when I told him where we were going, but at least he didn’t grumble too loudly as I slid into the backseat. I was headed to the bridge almost an hour early, but I was hoping for time to prepare before Hol y’s kidnapper arrived. I hadn’t decided if I would wait inside a magic circle or if I’d just have one ready, but I definitely wanted to have enough time to draw one.

We’d just reached the south side of the city where the tal skyscrapers vanished in favor of sprawling and dimly lit warehouses when Roy popped into the car.

“Uh, Alex, bad news,” he said.

I had time to turn, my mouth fal ing open in preparation for a question. Then a car pul ed out of a side street directly ahead of us, the glare of its headlights flooding the interior of the cab. The new car skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection, and the cabbie stood on the brakes.

If the brakes had been powered by cursing, the cab would have frozen in space. As it was, they squealed loudly, and the car skidded to one side. I grabbed PC as the momentum threw us forward. My forehead bounced off the seat in front of me and the seat belt cut tight, bruising my hips and chest. But the cab stopped.

What the hell?
I jerked my head up, squinting into the headlights that stil washed us in a blinding glare. “Bel ?” I asked, twisting to look at Roy.

He nodded as two more cars jetted to a stop behind the cab.

Crap
. I had to get out of here. The warehouse district wasn’t big on traffic at one in the morning, so no chance the cars belonged to tourists.

“When I said warn me, I meant before they were to the point of setting up roadblocks,” I hissed, struggling with the point of setting up roadblocks,” I hissed, struggling with the seat belt. The cabbie must have stil had his foot on the brake, because the belt was locked around me with not an inch of give.

“Bel ’s been in hiding. I didn’t know until his men emerged,” Roy said, his gaze riveted on the back window.

The light fil ing the cab dimmed for a moment, as if something—or someone—had passed in front of the headlights. “Alex, you need to get out of here.”

No shit.
The seat belt final y gave way and I tugged the strap of my purse over my shoulder as I slid across the seat.

“Your company has my card information,” I yel ed to the cabdriver, who’d thrown the cab into park and was climbing out of the driver’s seat. I didn’t try to stop him but wrenched my own door open.

Too late. Skimmers were already descending on the cab.

Now what?

“Find Falin,” I whispered to Roy as I jumped out.

“But he can’t—” the ghost began.

Yeah, Falin couldn’t see Roy. I knew that. Stil , someone had to know the skimmers had come for me, and my phone was in my purse, under the dog, so I didn’t exactly have time to cal 911.

“Just find him. Tel him what happened.”
Somehow.

I hit the pavement running and darted around the closest skimmer. I dashed for the sprawling warehouse across the street—not that I had a plan for once I reached it. The purse in my arms shook as PC trembled, but I didn’t have time to comfort him.

Behind me, the cabbie cursed, yel ing at the car blocking the road. I didn’t see the spel that sent him to the pavement, but I sensed it: a medicinal-grade sleeping charm. I also sensed a couple of tracking charms—

probably the best that money could buy.
No wonder they
found me so fast.

I had one foot of the sidewalk when a guy who spent way I had one foot of the sidewalk when a guy who spent way too much time in the gym grabbed my arm. He jerked me back, shoving me toward the rear bumper of the cab.

“Hey!”

“Boss wants to see you,” he said. Then he pushed my pelvis against the side panel of the cab and wrenched my arm behind my back. No sleep charm for me. He snapped a handcuff around my wrist, locking it tight with a click. The cold metal instantly heated against my skin and began to itch and a wave of nausea rol ed through me. Crap. High iron content.
Asshole.

“I think there’s been some mistake,” I said, struggling in his grasp as I tried to twist free. My efforts might as wel have been those of a child. Without missing a beat, he grabbed my other arm and jerked it behind me.

“Watch the dog!”

His hands actual y hesitated, and I think he realized for the first time that PC was there. The dog’s presence seemed to stump him.
What, he’s never seen a dog in a
purse before?
That or he thought PC was some sort of hairless rat—that happened. Either way, I used his distraction to my advantage and slammed the heel of my boot into his foot.

“Bitch.” He grabbed my hair and shoved my face against the car. Pain exploded across my cheek, my vision blaring red for a moment. By the time I could feel anything other than the sting, my hands were both cuffed. The goon hauled me back, dragging me away from the taxi.

Goon Two—I’d wondered where he was—opened the door to an ancient square monstrosity of a car as I was shoved toward it. The other skimmers just stood and watched, or ran to their own cars as I was forcibly abducted. PC ducked low in my purse.

I was a foot from the car when the raver chick popped into the space in front of me, blocking the door.

“Okay, we’ve reached a consensus,” she said, hands on her hips and nails boring into the plastic of her pants.

her hips and nails boring into the plastic of her pants.

“But for the record, I’m stil opposed.” The gray man popped into the space beside me.

I looked from one col ector to the other, and the goon gave me a shove. “I said to get in the car.”

Okay, so he might not have been able to see the col ectors, but they were very real, and very physical, to me, and right now the raver was blocking my path. As if she’d just realized that, the col ector glanced back at my abductor and then ducked into the car. I fol owed because the goon gave me no choice. I expected the gray man to fol ow, but the body that slid across the seat after me was much more familiar.

Death.

“What’s going on?” I whispered as I scooted over to give him and the gray man more room.

Death didn’t answer, but reached out and touched the cheek the goon had slammed into the taxi. Muscles clenched along his jaw as he gritted his teeth. His gaze went dark and shot to where the two goons were climbing into the front seats. The gray man pressed the length of his cane against Death’s chest, not holding him back exactly, but more like giving him a reminder.

The backseat real y wasn’t meant for four people, especial y when two of them were wel -built guys. The old beater lurched into motion and I ended up squished, my hips wedged between the raver and Death, my hands stil cuffed behind my back and a dog in my lap. The raver was crammed against the far door, and the gray man ended up twisted, with one hip more on the door than the seat.

As my bare shoulder pressed against the raver’s, she jumped, her eyes flaring wide. “What the—”

“It’s Alex,” Death said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, which gave everyone a smidgen more room.

“She’s touching you and the car.”

The raver’s eyes were stil a little too wide, like she wasn’t sure if she was impressed or pissed. She trailed her wasn’t sure if she was impressed or pissed. She trailed her fingers over the molding on the door, and I wondered, not for the first time, what the col ectors actual y saw and felt in this plane. She had, after al , climbed
into
the car, but clearly it hadn’t been entirely real to her until now.
Just as
long as I don’t accidentally pull them far enough across
for them to become visible.
Or maybe I should. It would give the goons a good scare if three extra people appeared in their backseat.

“Freaky,” she said, dropping her hand.

“So, uh, hi, guys. You might have noticed, I’m handcuffed in the back of a car and am being taken against my wil . So is this a social visit, or are you planning to help?”

Goon Two twisted in his seat and looked back at me.

“Did you say something?”

I dropped my gaze, focusing on PC. He was trembling in the purse, clearly aware that something was very wrong but not sure what to do about it.

“What do you expect us to do? Rip out their souls?” the raver asked, and I frowned. “Even that one”—she pointed at Death—“isn’t that foolish—yet.”

“And we intend to keep it that way,” the gray man muttered from the other end of the seat.

Why do I get the feeling I’ve landed in the middle of a
long-running argument?
“So why are we al crammed in this backseat together?”

“Like I said, we reached a consensus.” The raver twisted so she could look at me better. “You already know too much

—”“Though he swears he didn’t tel you.” The gray man tapped the skul -topped cane on Death’s knee.

“—So we’ve decided to employ your help,” the raver said, though she didn’t look happy about it. “You can go places we can’t.”

The gray man cupped his hands over the skul . “Namely, Faerie.”

I frowned at the col ectors. “You can’t go to Faerie?”

I frowned at the col ectors. “You can’t go to Faerie?”

The raver shrugged and her dreadlocks brushed my shoulder. They were stiffer than they looked. “Our planes don’t touch. There is no
death
in Faerie.” She smiled like she’d made a joke.

I didn’t laugh. “If you want me to go anywhere, I have to get out of this car first.”

“We can’t interfere with such mortal matters.” The gray man focused on Death, not me, as he spoke.

Right. So much for this being a rescue.
“So what’s in Faerie?”

The raver glanced at the two male col ectors. Then she said, “You are aware we have a . . . situation.”

I nodded.
The rogue reaper.
“But if you can’t go to Faerie, he can’t either, right?”

“No. But he has a mortal accomplice.”

“Who is the one who cast the constructs,” I said. I’d already reached that conclusion. While the constructs might have been fueled by stolen souls, they were control ed by witch magic. Those copper disks existed in the mortal plane—a col ector wouldn’t have been able to touch them.

The raver nodded. “Our magic debased to vulgarity and tarnished with mortal conjurings,” she said, her mouth twisting like talking about it carried a bad taste.

Nice to know her apparent dislike of me is nothing
personal—she dislikes mortals in general.
I rol ed my shoulders, trying to ease the pain in my arms and back. Not exactly easy in this situation. Or real y, more like not possible. The itching around my wrists had turned to a dul burning and my fingers were slowly fal ing asleep.

I glanced at Death. He’d been awful y quiet throughout this conversation. “So you want me to find the accomplice in Faerie?”

“No, I don’t,” he said, and the gray man rapped him on the knee again with his cane.

“But we do
need
you to find the accomplice,” the gray man said, shooting Death a glare.

man said, shooting Death a glare.

The constructs were souls wrapped in glamour and control ed by charms etched with runes that hadn’t been used in half a mil ennium. That did
seem
to point to Faerie, but...

“The accomplice isn’t in Faerie. Hol y was kidnapped and a note was left demanding that I go to the old bridge at two tonight. The magic in the seal is similar to that in the constructs. The accomplice you’re looking for wil be there.”

Which was al the more reason for me to get free of this car.

Death’s arm tightened around my shoulder, but it was the gray man who said, “Then we wil be at that bridge, but this rendezvous has the markings of a trap. The accomplice might not appear.”

Like I don’t know that.
I slouched lower in the seat. Of course, at this rate, there was a good chance
I
wouldn’t show either.

“What makes you sure the accomplice is in Faerie?” I asked. After al , it was possible that a fae living in the mortal realm was working with a witch who found an old grimoire, maybe a book passed down through a family.

Then an even better question hit me. “And how are they communicating with the reaper?” The only mortals who could see col ectors at any time other than the moment of their death were grave witches. There might have been some varieties of fae with the ability, but I wasn’t sure of that.

Al three col ectors went stil .

They glanced at one another, not saying a thing. The car hit a bump, jostling me. They stil hadn’t spoken by the time I resituated myself. From my lifelong acquaintance with Death, I knew that a col ector couldn’t be pressured into speaking, so I glanced out the window, trying to figure out where Bel ’s goons were taking me. We appeared to stil be headed south, out of the city. The gray man shook his head, one quick twist of his neck, but the raver shrugged.