Stacia Kane - City of Ghosts

“It wasn’t me!” she cried, but Dana slapped her so hard across the face that she literally saw stars. By the time she felt capable of speech again it was too late—a chunk of dirty robe had been stuffed into her mouth and her wrists and ankles bound, blood still seeping into the fabric from her wrists.

Her eyes picked out Lex, still standing, talking to a few of his men; relief flooded through her. She scanned the small clumps of people, one or two still fighting, most of them not. She didn’t see Lauren. Didn’t see any Lamaru still standing. Saw a few of Baldarel’s children but they huddled together crying, their fear and unhappiness somehow more appalling on their unformed faces.

In the middle of everything she felt sorry for them, was pleased she could. It wasn’t their fault what they were, what he’d made them, any more than her upbringing had been her fault. She hoped the Church would take care of them.

Two Elders stood by the hole Baldarel had made; their voices carried to her, chanting. Rebuilding the magical seal, stretching it to cover the opening. Workmen had already been called, she assumed. The Church didn’t waste—

Terrible appeared. Breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaped her. He was gathering his men into a small circle, fewer than there had been. She wondered how he felt about that, if he thought it had been worth it or was angry or … what. She hoped she’d get to find out.

“Cesaria.”

Elder Griffin stood over her, his face stern but his eyes unbearably kind. He knew. He knew it hadn’t been her, knew she’d come to stop it, she saw it in his eyes and felt it when he knelt beside her and tugged the wadded fabric from her mouth, untied her wrists and ankles.

“It wasn’t me,” she said again. It seemed to be the only thing she could force out. “It was a glamour, she got Baldarel to make it for her, he—”

“Worry not, Cesaria.”

“The fetish is over there. I think.” Her arm was so heavy; had it always been that heavy? “I’m sorry. I found out last night what he was doing—betraying them, trying to take over their plan and using them—and I went to tell Lauren but she wasn’t really Lauren, did you know that? Shit, did—Oh, sorry, sir.”

He smiled. “Go on.”

“Did you get her? Did you find out who she is?”

“Elder Thompson has her, yes. But whether he has discovered her identity I know not.”

“They wanted to destroy the ghosts. They thought if there were no ghosts they could take over, they thought he was helping them but he was using them. Planning a double-cross.”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up. “So that is why. He needed them to get into the City. Needed the woman pretending to be Lauren, and the Lamaru’s knowledge of Church ritual.”

He’d needed their hints about the tunnels as well, but Chess didn’t mention that. A deal was a deal.

They were silent for a minute, watching the vast space clear. The Liaisers—save for Bruce Wickman, of course—were busy around another firedish, sending sweet-smelling mullein smoke into the air to calm the ghosts. It appeared to be working.

Others were cleaning up, crawling across the ground in search of anything that could be used as a weapon and grabbing it.

Lex caught her eye; he was by the hole, about to leave. He held up a hand when he saw her, slid past Elder Ramos and out onto the platform.

“Cesaria … if I may ask, my dear, who are all those men?”

So many answers flew through her mind that she didn’t know which to pick, aside from the obvious truth that “My drug dealer’s enforcer and his rival who I used to fuck” was definitely not it.

So instead she said the one she thought was the closest to true, the one she hoped was true: “They’re my friends.”

Just thinking of going to Church made her tired.

In the two days between the battle in the City and the present moment when she threw a couple of Cepts into her mouth, fired up a cigarette, and tucked her tattered blanket over her legs, she’d been either there or asleep, with nothing in between. Hours of testimony. Hours watching Lauren—or rather, Cassie Benz, as her name turned out to be—testify. The Grand Elder had gone into seclusion when he learned the Lamaru had killed his daughter before she even arrived in Triumph City; Elder Ramos had been acting in his stead.

Now, finally, she had a day off. The next day she’d have to go in again to testify about Maguinness/Baldarel and his connection with the Lamaru, but for now, nothing.

Really nothing: she’d gone to the Market earlier to score instead of agreeing to Lex’s plan to come by her place. She didn’t want to see him. Well, no, she wanted to see him, but not then. Not yet.

Stupid of her, really. She didn’t want to admit even to herself how stupid it was: that she didn’t want him around, in case …

How was it possible to be totally red-face humiliated and yet proud of the same thing? For one short sentence, three short words, to create such a reaction in her soul?

Pride was a new one for her, at least pride that wasn’t related directly to her job. She’d always been proud of that, proud and aware that she was lucky and that she owed something for that luck.

This was different. She shifted on the couch, watched the smoke drift from her cigarette into the air. It killed her that she hadn’t heard from him. Killed her that she’d blown it. Embarrassed the fuck out of her that she’d actually said what she said, right to his face, staring right into his eyes.

At the same time, that pride was still there. Yeah, she had done it. She had said it right to his face. She’d been terrified but she’d done it, she’d said those words that she’d never said before—at least, never said them and meant them.

And nothing had come of it. And she guessed nothing would.

Thinking about it made her chest hurt. She put out the cigarette and grabbed a kesh instead. Nowhere to go, nowhere to be, why not? Anything to get her thoughts off that track and onto something else.

She’d just picked up her lighter when the knock at the door came.

Probably a neighbor wanting to ask if she’d gotten their mail. Possibly Edsel; he hadn’t seemed too pleased that she hadn’t stayed to chat that morning. Maybe Lex had decided to come by after all, despite her telling him she’d see him the next day after work.

Wrong, and wrong again. Terrible stood outside, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched in that way he had when he felt uncomfortable.

Yeah, well. She didn’t exactly feel comfortable herself. What else was new?

“Hi,” she managed, stepping back to let him in. His presence literally went to her head; she had to lean against the wall for a second. Of course, that could have been her Cepts, too, kicking in nicely enough for her to attempt a smile.

Bruises decorated his jaw and neck, a jagged cut started on the back of his hand and disappeared up the long sleeve of the shirt he wore under his bowling shirt. It stood out angry red as he pushed the door closed and leaned against it.

“Hey. You right?”

“Yeah, um, right up.” Okay. What should she do? Invite him in to sit down? Why was he there? Shit, she was not good at this. “You? How are you?”

He shrugged. Stared at the floor.

“Hey, I didn’t get to say thanks. For, you know, for finding me and bringing those guys in to help me and everything.”