The Undoing (7 page)

“I start . . . tomorrow.”

“Excellent.”

“Wait.” Rachel shook her head. “The Protectors? Isn't their house in Pacific Palisades?” Eyes wide, she demanded, “Oh my God, did you run all the way there and back?”

Jace, now curled into a ball on the floor, shook her head. “Danski Eriksen drove me part of the way back, but . . . but . . . he kept
talking
to me.”

“About what?”

“Just chitchat!”

Rachel leaned down a bit and asked the struggling-to-breathe girl, “Would it have killed you to make small talk with someone?
Anyone?
”

“
Yes!
” Jace screamed, startling them both. “
It would have!
”

J
ace passed Lev's care off to one of her sister-Crows, knowing she'd take care of her baby.

Yes, she was now at the point where she considered Lev her “baby.” She'd never thought she'd be one of those dog owners, but here she was.

She smiled a little, thinking how annoyed her grandmother would be. Nëna considered animals either food or protection. There was no in between for her.

“Don't get so attached to that goat, little
inat
,” she'd say. “He's probably tomorrow's dinner.”

Her grandmother never said those sorts of things to be cruel. In her mind, she was just toughening up Jacinda to the harsh world around them.

“You are too sweet, little
inat
,” she liked to say, using the Albanian word for “ire.” “You can't be so sweet. Boys will only use you to make their lives easier. And I never want that for you.”

Jace stopped walking. She couldn't keep thinking about her grandmother. It only hurt her heart. The memory of Nëna's face when she'd tried to see Jace but they'd stopped her. She hadn't seen her grandmother since. Jace had been too ashamed to let her grandmother know how weak she'd been for staying so long.

And, of course, for choosing. Jace had made a choice and for that Nëna would
not
forgive.

After giving herself a moment, Jace started off again. She made it downstairs and was about to head toward the hallway when a hand clamped down on her arm and another around her mouth. Then she was yanked back until she was under the stairs.

A few seconds later, she saw Rachel and a couple of Crows from Rachel's strike team appear in the hall. The three women stood there, looking around.

Looking for Jace.

Jace rolled her eyes. Rachel was trying to push herself into this, too. Trying to “help” Jace out.

Jace couldn't express, in words or actions, how much she did
not
want any help from Rachel. Not when it came to her life in general. During a fight? Sure. Help away. But any other time, Rachel just irritated the fuck out of Jace. She wouldn't say she hated her or anything. Jace didn't hate anyone.

But the more annoying a person became—and Rachel was really annoying—the less time Jace wanted to spend around that person.

After looking around, Rachel gestured to her team. “I doubt she left yet. I want to talk to her before she goes. Find her.”

The three women split up, heading in different directions to track down Jace.

Once they were gone, the hands on her loosened and Jace turned to see that it was Erin and Kera who had rescued her.

Loyal sister-Crows to the end. Protecting her from annoying
yentas
. One of the few Yiddish words her grandmother used extensively when talking about women who annoyed her, but whom she didn't actively hate.

Without saying anything, the three of them made a run for it. But as they went around one corner, they quickly realized that Rachel had gotten her entire strike team involved in tracking Jace down. Probably so she could give Jace one of her irritating “pep talks.”

They froze, the back of their sister-Crow to them, and waited a few seconds before darting down another hallway, into the dayroom, out of the dayroom, and into the next hallway over.

They all slid to a stop when they realized that Rachel was there. She was just turning toward them when all three dove into the nearest closet.

Clinging to each other like terrified orphans, they watched Rachel stomp by through the crack in the open door. When she disappeared, they let out a breath and Kera began to ease out the door just as Annalisa was walking by. She frowned at the sight of them huddled in the closet, but before she could say a word, Kera mouthed,
Rachel
, and pointed.

Annalisa smirked. She wasn't a big Rachel fan, either. She suddenly pushed Kera back into the closet and stood in front of the door.

Rachel reappeared, stopping in front of Annalisa and looking her over. “What are you doing?” she finally asked.

“Just thinking about my day. What are you doing?”

“Trying to find Jace. Have you seen her?”

“Trying to find her? Why? Is it because she's Albanian?”

“I'm trying to . . . wait . . . what?”

“You hate her because she's Albanian?”

“I don't hate—”

“Is it just Albanians you hate, or is it all East Europeans?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Wow. I had no idea you were like this.”

Another sister-Crow showed up. “Like what?”

“Rachel hates Eastern Europeans.”

“I do not!”

“So you hate
all
Europeans? Is that what you're saying?”

“No!”

“My God, Rachel.” The other sister-Crow shook her head, disgust on her face as she walked off. “I'm really disappointed in you.”

“Wait . . .” Rachel glared down at Annalisa. “Jesus Christ.”

“So you hate the Christian God, too?”

“Oh my God! Shut up!”

Rachel stormed off, calling after the sister-Crow who'd been so disgusted with her, and Annalisa opened the closet door. “Anglo guilt . . . it's so my favorite thing.”

Ski opened the front door and again found Jace Berisha standing there. This time, however, she wasn't panting like she'd run a desert marathon.

She also wasn't alone.

With a sigh, she said, “I couldn't shake them.”

“We helped you escape,” Annalisa Dinapoli stated as she pushed her way past Jace and stepped into the hallway. “The least you can be is grateful.”

“We just wanted to make sure everything was on the up-and-up,” Kera said, giving a small smile before adding, “Nothing personal. We would do this with any of the Clans.”

“No problem.” Ski pulled the door all the way open. “Please, come in. Have a look around.”

“That isn't necessary,” Jace said, still standing outside the doorway.

“Will it make your friends feel better and go away?”

“Probably.”

“Then they can look around.” He winked and gestured her inside with a head nod.

“Beautiful place,” Kera said.

“Eh,” Erin muttered.

“Thank you,
Kera
.”

He heard Erin chuckle.

“How are you enjoying your Second Life?” he asked.

“I like it,” Kera said with real eagerness, eyes bright.

“And has your dog had wings for long?”

“Since I have.” She shrugged. “Brodie enjoys it.”

“She wasn't with you when you were dealing with the Russians.”

“She makes Chloe nervous. So we only bring her in when things get really bad.”

“Because she's a dog with wings?”

“No. Because she's a breed that the insurance company won't cover.”

“Do all the Protectors live here?” Erin asked.

“No. Just me and sometimes Ormi.”

“Why you?”

“Because I'm the Keeper of the Word.”

Ski stopped when he heard Jace suddenly choke and begin coughing. He went to her side, lightly placing his hand on her back.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She waved him off and stepped away from his hand. “I'm fine.”

He didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to argue with her. “So where are the books?” she asked, probably assuming that the quickest way to get rid of the Crows was to involve dusty old books written in Russian. He doubted she was wrong.

“The library. It's right down this hall . . .”

Ski stopped and let out a breath, eyes briefly closing. He should have seen this coming. But he'd been so distracted, he'd forgotten to deal with this very situation.

And now . . . he was stuck.

 

It looked like every local Protector from Southern California was filling up that big, beautiful hallway with the marble floor and walls, where their god Tyr's rune—the Tiwaz, which resembled an arrow pointing at the sky—was subtly designed into everything.

With arms crossed over chests, they stood and stared down the small group of Crows.

Eriksen glanced at Jace. Poor guy looked mortified as he asked the Protector everyone called Bear, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure our books are safe.”

“That's my job.”

“It's not that we don't trust you . . . we just don't trust you.”

“What?”

He pointed. “You allowed
her
in here.”

They all turned to Erin, who looked over her shoulder before turning back around, pointed at her chest, and asked, “Me? What did I do?”

“You spit flame.”

“I don't spit anything.” She held up her hands and grinned. “I use my hands,” she growled, wiggling her fingers.

“Yeah,” Bear said, “she's not allowed around the books.”

“You seem very protective of the books, Marbjörn Ingolfsson,” Annalisa noted. “Have you always been this way? Since childhood, I mean. Did your mother like books?”

“Don't answer her!” another Protector ordered. “At least six of my patients are in prison because of her.”

Annalisa smirked. “They were hardly innocent. And it's not my fault you were snowed by your sociopathic patients.” She gestured to the Protector. “My friends, this is my fellow forensic psychologist—”

“I don't care,” Erin whined.

Annalisa shrugged at her colleague. “She doesn't care. About you. Or your sagging, sad career.”

The man's eyes narrowed. “You are such an evil witch.”

“Awww.Thank you. It's so sweet you noticed. I do still try to be that girl I once was. Tormenting the innocent. Destroying the will of the good.” She sighed. “I miss those days.”

“You are
freaking
me out,” Bear finally stated.

Deciding she was done with this conversation and realizing that everyone was focused on “Fire Hands” Erin and former-sociopath Annalisa, Jace pressed her back against the wall and carefully slid past the Protectors until she reached the library.

As she stepped inside, her mouth dropped open. This wasn't some rich person's McMansion library. This was a
real
library. There were at least three floors, shelves filled with books lining each wall and then stacks across the floor, as well. Near the entrance were wood tables and chairs for people to do research. Several were filled with studious young Protectors. Teen boys who were taken from their families by the time they were eight or so and trained in the art of war and reason in a special boarding school hidden somewhere in the Midwest—but fully accredited so the teens could move on to prestigious high schools and then Ivy League universities.

Tyr was the god of war, battles, and justice. Unlike the other gods, Tyr never lied and was all about self-sacrifice, integrity, and honor. When a Protector made an oath of any kind, a man could know without a doubt that the oath would never be broken. However, if the one who made an oath with a Protector broke his side, his suffering would be legendary. The Protectors, with all their mighty integrity, could be the cruelest bastards in the known universe when crossed. So no one went into a deal with the Protectors lightly.

Which was why Jace, much as she didn't want to be here today, would go through with her commitment.

Of course, now that she was actually
in
the Protectors' library, she was shockingly happy she'd made the agreement with Danski Eriksen.

Her hands clasped together, Jace picked the first bookshelf she came to and began studying each title as she walked down the length of it.

“I see you made a break for it,” a voice teased.

Jace glanced up. Gundo towered over her, smiling.

“Would you like me to show you around?”

No. She really didn't want him to. But, instead, Jace said, “No.”

Wait . . . that wasn't what she'd meant to say. Although it's what she did mean.

Gundo smirked. “Would you like me to introduce you around?”

“God, no.”

“I see. Is it me?” he asked.

“No.”

“Is it because Crows and Protectors were once sworn enemies?”

“No.”

“Is it because you're truly
not
a people person and you'd rather walk through fire than have polite conversation?”

Instead of answering, Jace just stared at him.