Kelley Armstrong - Haunted

"Oh, wasn't that fun," Jolynn said as she rummaged through the kitchen cupboards. "Did you see the look in their eyes?" She pouted. "Too bad we couldn't let them scream."

"Not with people sleeping in the apartment overhead. The gunshot was loud enough, even through the pillow."

"You're right. And Nellie did kind of shriek. That was nice." She lifted two knives from the drawer. "The boning knife or the cleaver?"

"You'll probably need both."

"Good idea. Oh, and what about a saw? I think Dot keeps a saw in the closet. One of those little ones, for cutting metal and stuff?"

"A hacksaw."

"That's it. Should I get that, too?"

"If you can find it."

Jolynn found the hacksaw right where she remembered seeing it, in the closet with some other tools. With the hacksaw and boning knife in one hand, and the cleaver in the other, she headed for the bathroom, where Dot was waiting in the tub.

This was going to be such fun.

Two trunks. That was all that remained of the luggage from that mornings train from San Francisco. Two black trunks with silver handles. They looked brand-new, not the sort of thing you'd expect someone to abandon at the train station… unless they had a good reason.

The moment Samuel saw those big trunks, he knew someone was up to no good. Damn things were big enough to fit two, maybe three, crates of bootleg hooch. The owner probably saw a few uniforms milling about, got cold feet, and ran. The Southern Pacific railway didn't hold with bootleggers. As a baggage-checker it was Samuel's job to, well, check the baggage. And if there were as many bottles in these trunks as he suspected, no one would miss one.

He marched over to the trunks. The minute he got within a foot of them, he reeled back, hand shooting up to cover his nose. Goddamn! If that was hooch, he didn't want even a sip of it. Smelled like something curled up and died in there. He was surprised the baggage-handlers in San Francisco hadn't noticed. Maybe it hadn't smelled that bad before spending a half-day in a baggage car, baking in the August heat.

As Samuel reached for the latch, a pickup truck backed up to the receiving dock. A young man stepped out from the driver's side, but Samuel barely got a look at him before his attention was snagged by the passenger. A brunette. A real doll. Swanky, like some kind of movie star.

The young couple walked toward him, the woman holding out a baggage-claim slip.

"These your trunks, ma'am?" Samuel asked.

She smiled. "They are. Sorry we're late. I got off the train, then realized I had to get my brother to bring the truck around for the trunks. They're quite heavy."

"May I ask what's in them?"

"Oh just… personal items." She smiled. "You know how women pack."

Her brother snorted. "Got that right. Two trunks for a weekend visit. You'd think she was moving back home."

The young man moved toward the trunks, but Samuel lifted a hand.

"There's a… funny smell coming from them, ma'am."

The woman's blue eyes widened. "There is?"

"There sure is," her brother said, nose wrinkling. "And there's something oozing out the bottom. Jeepers, Jo, what you got in here?"

Before she could answer, Samuel stepped up to the first trunk. He reached for the latch, but saw that it was locked.

"Ma'am? I'm going to need to ask you to open these."

Jolynn stared at the baggage-handler, as if not understanding his request.

Victoria? What do I do now?

She waited, but her friend didn't answer. She must have been thinking up a plan. As the baggage-handler and Ricky waited, Jolynn rummaged through her purse, pretending to look for the keys.

Victoria?

"Ma'am, I need those-"

"Wait," she snapped. "I'm looking for them."

Victoria? Please, please, please. We're in trouble.

Nothing.

Victoria!

The name echoed through the silence of her brain.

TRSIEL TOOK US BACK INTO JANAH'S ROOM, WHERE I waited as they went at it. No, I don't mean an angel-on-angel sword-slamming duel, though that would have been kind of fun. This was a fight of the verbal variety… and not much of a fight at that.

Trsiel talked to Janah in what I assumed was her native tongue, and she eventually calmed down, though I suspect it had more to do with his tone than his words. Trsiel had two voice settings. One, probably his natural voice, could have stopped traffic. The moment you heard it, you'd stop whatever you were doing, just to sit and listen. If he kept talking, you'd keep listening, but probably not hear a word he said, too intent on the voice to comprehend the message.

That's the voice he'd first used to get my attention, and it was the one he now used to calm Janah. But when he switched to conversation mode, he adopted a more "normal" tone, one that would be a DJ's dream, but not so spellbinding that you'd ignore what he was saying.

Finally, he changed to English for my benefit. He explained my mission, and with each word, Janah's gaze unclouded, as her mind cleared and focused. Then she turned to me, eyes narrowing.

"They send this one after her?" She snorted. "And they call me mad."

I started to retort, but Trsiel cut me off.

"The Fates know what they're doing," he said.

"No, they do not. She will fail."

"Perhaps, but-"

"She will fail. No 'perhaps.' This is a job for an angel, and she is not an angel."

"Not yet."

"Not yet what ?" I said.

"This is her inaugural quest?" Janah leapt to her feet. "This is not-it cannot be-Fools!"

Trsiel tried to quiet her, but she lunged at him so fast I saw only a blur. Trsiel didn't move. She stopped, with only an inch between them, and pulled herself up straight. She barely reached his chest, but that didn't keep her from rattling off a tirade of invective-or what I assumed from her tone was invective, though she'd reverted to her own language. Trsiel put his hands on her arms, but she flung him off and stalked to her window.

"Without the gift, she will fail," Janah said. "Do not ask me to lead her to her destruction. I will not."

Janah dropped to the floor with a thud, pulled her knees to her chest, and turned to stare out her window. Even from across the room, I could see that stare go empty as her mind retreated.

Trsiel laid his hand on my forearm, and we zapped out of Janah's room.

Trsiel didn't take me back to the foyer, but to some kind of waiting area, empty except for two white armchairs.

"She's right," he said, dropping into one of the chairs. "You can't do this without the gift."

"What gift?"

He waved me to the other chair, but I shook my head.

"What gift?" I repeated.

"An angel's power. Full-bloods always have it. The others get it when they ascend. The Fates must know you need it for this, so what could they be…" His voice trailed off, his brow furrowed.

"Is it the sword? I wouldn't mind the sword."

A tiny smile. "No, the sword is a tool. You'll get that, too, when you ascend-"

"Ascend?"

"Yes. But the gift is a skill, an ability. Not essential in most of an angel's tasks, but obviously Janah thinks you need it for this one, and she's not talking until you have it. But you won't get it until you ascend and you won't ascend until you complete your inaugural quest."

" 'Complete'? You think I'm auditioning for angel-hood?"

"It isn't something you can audition for. You must be chosen, and if you're chosen, then you have to complete an inaugural quest. Finding the Nix is yours."

"I'm fulfilling a promise here, not completing an entrance exam. The Fates did me a favor a couple of years ago, a very big favor, and this is how they want it repaid."

"Perhaps I was mistaken, then."