Stacia Kane - Unholy Magic

“I’m glad,” she said finally, because it seemed Roger expected a reply. “I hope everything works out for you.”

“Me too.”

Okay, this was kind of weird. Did he know why she’d agreed to let his family off the hook? Shit, they’d never even come up with a decent cover story—Oh, wait. She looked at Oliver.

“We’re blaming it all on Kemp, right? And you’re here to tell me what you told them?”

He nodded. “Basically. We’re saying Kemp summoned the ghosts for revenge, because of my involvement. I’ve already spoken to Thad Griffin. And you were at that house because of me. I begged you to go with me.”

“And Elder Griffin was … He’s okay with that? I mean, am I going to—”

“I don’t think you’ll have any problems with him, no.” His eyes held hers for a moment. No, he couldn’t mean that . Elder Griffin wasn’t the type who’d overlook a crime because of sex. She knew that. But a favor for an old friend? That she could see.

“Thanks.”

“Least I could do, I guess. Oh, and …”—he glanced at Roger—“Your friend … his bills are paid, okay? We’re taking care of it.”

She bit her lip. Her friend … He’d pulled through. Been awake. Refused to see her. She’d tried twice the day before, but the first time the door had been closed and the nurse had told her he was sleeping, and the second time some buddy of his had shooed her away.

He wouldn’t see her. He’d saved her life, and she’d saved his, but he wouldn’t talk to her.

It had to mean something, though, right? That he’d saved her? That in that last minute he’d seen Horatio Kemp with a gun, and his thought had been to protect her, to shelter her? Didn’t that mean something?

Oliver’s eyes showed he knew what she was thinking. Mercifully, he did not speak.

“Anyway,” Roger said. “I wanted to come and say thanks. And you’re always welcome to visit, if you like.”

“Thanks, but I don’t travel much. One day, maybe—”

“Oh, no. We’re moving back to L.A., but we’re keeping the house. We’ll spend summers here, I think. If you ever find yourself out that way, please feel free to say hello. I’d like that. I think we all would.”

This kept getting weirder and weirder. “Okay, thanks.”

He shook his head. “You gave me back my family. We’re talking again. You could have turned us all in, ruined our lives and our careers. Hell, you could have sold the story to a tabloid. You didn’t. I appreciate that.”

She opened her mouth to tell him it hadn’t exactly been her choice, but closed it again. It was nice to think something good had come out of all this mess. That at least someone’s life had been improved. Her job didn’t lend itself to happy endings. Her life … well, that went without saying.

They chatted for a few more minutes, then the men stood up to leave.

“One more thing.” Oliver held something out to her. “I thought you might like to have these.”

It was a flat, square package, thick as a magazine. The pictures—another set, she guessed—or maybe she hadn’t managed to grab them all at the Pyle house that night. She nodded.

“If you ever need anything, give me a call. Please. My card is in there.”

“Yeah, okay. And thanks, really.”

They shook hands. Oliver leaned over and kissed her forehead, and the men left.

She opened the package. Yep, the pictures. All of them. And the memory chip. Nice of him. Of course, he had a lot more than that to hold over her head at that point.

At the bottom were two copies of one photo, a close-up enlargement. She and Terrible, the night they’d gone to Bump’s place, just before he’d knocked on the door. Joking with each other.

Their bodies were so close they almost touched, so it was hard to tell where he ended and she began. The breeze had lifted her hair from her shoulders and brushed back her bangs so her eyes looked larger, totally focused on him.

And he was smiling down at her, that grin that changed his entire face.

Tears stung her eyes and she brushed them away. Two copies Oliver had made of this one. Maybe she felt like getting up and going for a little walk anyway.

She slid off the bed and sneaked a couple of pills. Maybe this was a stupid thing to do. It probably was a stupid thing to do, but she didn’t care at that point. What difference would it make? She’d already made a total ass of herself, sobbing and screaming and telling a crowd of men—one of whom she was fucking—that her life would end if Terrible died.

Terrible’s room wasn’t far from hers, just a few doors down the hall. His big, tube-ridden body dwarfed the bed.

He looked okay, she thought critically. Not too pale. Whether that meant anything, she wasn’t sure.

In her stocking feet she padded over to the bedside, listening to him breathe. Listening to the steady beeping of the IV machine in the corner. What she’d done … it had been worth it. Totally worth it, despite the possible consequences. She’d killed a bird. If that was discovered, she’d be in prison for a long time, possibly even executed. But she didn’t care. Didn’t care at all, because he was alive.

She reached out and brushed the hair back from his eyes, half wanting him to wake, half hoping he wouldn’t.

He stirred, mumbled something she didn’t understand, but didn’t wake up. That was fine, too.

He wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t talk to her. That hurt far worse than the hole in her leg. So did knowing that this might be the last time she’d ever touch him, maybe even the last time she’d ever be this close to him.

But she’d be dead now if it weren’t for him. When it came down to it, no matter how angry he was, no matter how badly she’d hurt him, he’d used his own body as a shield. Sacrificed himself for her.

And she’d done the same in return. That had to mean something, right? That no matter how it might feel, their story wasn’t over?

And right now, that was enough. What she would do about Lex she didn’t know. What the consequences of that sigil on Terrible’s chest might be, she didn’t know. Hell, there were lots of things she didn’t know; she never had.

But right now she knew Terrible had died to save her. Some part of him, no matter how small, still cared about her at least as much as the rest of him still wanted her. And she still wanted him, more than she’d ever thought she could want anyone, and she wasn’t scared.

So that was a pretty good start.

She set the picture on his bedside table, where he would see it when he woke up, and padded back down the hall to her own room. It was his move now.

She just hoped he would make it.

Her bed waited for her; she climbed up, ignoring the twinge from her healing leg. The nurses would be by in another hour or two to give her more pills; she had a stash from Lex, a TV bolted to the wall, and a stack of books Elder Griffin had sent. She was alive. Nobody was going to take her job away. Nobody was spying on her anymore.

Maybe it wasn’t a happy ending. But it was a hell of a lot better than she’d expected.

Not all of your duties will be pleasant. But that is the sacrifice you make, for as a Church employee you must always remember that you are privileged above all others.— The Example Is You , the guidebook for Church employees

The guillotine waited for them, its blackened wood dark and threatening against the naked cement walls of the Execution Room.