Dragon Wytch (Page 29)

"I hate to interrupt," Chase said, "but I'm feeling woozy all of a sudden."

Delilah felt his forehead. "He's starting a fever. Let's head for the FH-CSI offices. We can't do anything about Karvanak right now, so let's focus on what we can take care of."

I fell silent and drove, but my mind was racing a million miles an hour. We needed to talk strategy. We needed to bring somebody else in to help us. We needed… so many things, and we weren't likely to get any of them.

The Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigations offices were in a building specially built just for the purpose of dealing with Otherworlders. Damaged in the rogue vampire onslaught a couple of months ago, the broken doors had been fixed, and the magical security system had been reinforced, changed just enough to prevent the same disruption from happening again. No doubt somebody would come along in the future who could beat it, but as with hackers, each time it was defeated, we'd rebuild it stronger and more secure.

The morgue was in the basement, three stories down, while the medical facilities were on the first floor. We burst through the doors, and I waved hello to Yugi. The Swedish empath had recently been promoted to lieutenant, and he ran the ship when Chase and Tylanda weren't around, Tylanda being a full-blooded Fae and Chase's ex-assistant. She'd returned to Otherworld as ordered by the OIA, but we hoped to fill her spot soon.

Sharah drew samples of all of our blood. If we had any cut on us that had been touched by the tetsa poison, it would show as she added the reagent. The toxin entered the bloodstream quickly.

She shook out several grains of a blue powder into a small vial and added a quarter cup of water, swirling it until it dissolved. Then she lined up the blood samples and, using an eyedropper, squirted three drops of the bluish liquid on each sample. Morio's blood just sat there, as did mine. Delilah's sizzled a little, and Chase's let out a loud hiss as it bubbled up.

"Chase, Delilah, you show signs of tetsa in your blood. You'll both have to take the antidote."

Chase jumped. "What? Are we going to die? What about my men?"

"Calm down. Chief," she said, digging through a cupboard. "I've tested your men already and administered the antidote. Both are alive, but I'm not hopeful about Trent—he fell to the poison awfully fast. But Mallen is taking care of them, and if he can't pull them through, nobody can. You, on the other hand, are still walking, and that's good news," she said absently. After a moment she turned, a tall vial in her hand. The liquid inside was brown and frothy.

Delilah wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. I know what's coming."

"Do we have to drink that?" Chase asked, swallowing and looking a little green. "That looks vile—oh God, it smells vile, too!"

Sharah had popped open the bottle, and a pungent odor filled the room, like acrid vinegar mixed with sulfur. "Quit being a baby. Yes, you have to drink it. Lucky for you, I have to dilute it first." She poured two tablespoons into a glass, two into a second glass, then added tap water, stirring it until it stopped fizzing. Handing them each a glass, she added, "Bottoms up. Now."

Delilah took a deep breath and chugged hers down, wincing as the flavor hit her tongue. Chase was a little slower, but finally held his nose and swallowed the drink, gagging a little as he did so. But the glasses were empty, and Sharah looked pleased with herself.

"You should live, but I want the both of you to stay for observation for the next few hours. Camille, you and Morio can go." She waved us away.

"But Camille needs me—" Delilah started to say.

I cut her off. "Hush. You stay here, make sure the antidote took. My cell is out, and so is Morio's, so you won't be able to contact us until we get home—"

"Take mine," Iris said, handing me her cell phone. "Are you heading home first?"

I nodded. "I can't very well drive up to the Mountain Aspen Retreat covered in blood and all bruised up. I need to change clothes and put on some makeup and try to make myself look a little less beat up. I suppose I can always claim a recent accident."

"I'll ride with you, then, and make sure Maggie's all right. I'll give Henry a call, too, and see how he's doing at the shop." She bustled toward the door. "What are you waiting for? Let's get a move on."

I kissed Delilah on the cheek and patted Chase's shoulder. "Be careful. I'll have Iris's cell phone. Call me if anything happens."

As we headed out the door, I turned to Morio. "If one more thing goes wrong today, I swear, I'm going to scream so loud that I break the windows."

He laughed. "Don't make that a promise, okay? It's barely noon."

I grimaced. Barely noon! And all I could think about was: what was going to go wrong next?

The Mountain Aspen Retreat was south of the city, a little ways past Normandy Park, sitting on twenty-five tree-lined acres. We drove south on Marine View Drive, and it took us two wrong turns and stopping by a small convenience store for directions to find the place.

As I turned onto 206th Street, the houses thinned. We were in an area that, while developed, still had some leeway when it came to strip malls and so forth. After a couple blocks, I took another right, then hung a left onto a maple-shaded lane—or it would be maple-shaded once the leaves opened out in full force. The area reminded me a little of the road leading to our house, only it looked like there was more upkeep here; these were grounds, rather than a lawn.

"I'm not sure," Morio said. "You might actually get a response by mentioning the demons. He's terrified of his dreams, and both you and I know he has reason to be. Some FBHs are prescient, and it seems he has that ability."

"Are you sure he's all human? I'm not saying full-blooded humans don't have psychic powers or can't wield magic not at all. But on the whole, it's a rare soul who's discovered his or her abilities—and an even rarer one who's managed to develop them." We passed a sign indicating a left turn up ahead to the Mountain Aspen Retreat. I flicked on the turn signal.

As we came to the graveled drive, I made a slow left turn, and we began to wend our way along the gradually inclining road. To either side were vast lawns—as I said, grounds—dotted with maple, oak, and the occasional willow tree. The resort, which we could see in the distance, was on a small butte that overlooked the strip of beach running along Puget Sound. Across the harbor was Vashon Island.

"You know," I said, "it seems that more often than not, FBHs like to ascribe their powers to other beings. The devil made me do it… God is talking to me… I hear voices… rather than acknowledging their own power or responsibility."

"It's easier," Morio said. "It's easier to blame somebody else, or to give up responsibility just in case something happens, and you're not up to shouldering what you did. Being the bad guy is easy if you don't get caught, or if you can claim it was somebody else's fault."

"There's the resort. Looks like everybody's out getting their exercise." As we approached the large building—or rather, group of buildings—I noticed a number of what had to be patients slowly making their way through some of the well-tended gardens. Some walked with nurses who were wearing crisp pink uniforms; others walked in pairs, talking—or not—as they took in the brisk afternoon air. Everybody except the nurses and attendants wore street clothes, but I noticed right away that everyone who seemed to be a patient sported a neon-red bracelet.

"Want to bet those bracelets have sensors that alert the guards if anybody leaves the grounds?"

Morio glanced over at a trio of patients who were examining the budding crocuses beneath a willow tree. "You're probably right. There's the parking lot."

I eased into the lot that ran parallel to the main building and turned off the ignition. "Ready to go? Do you think I can pass?"

I'd changed into one of the most conservative outfits I had: a black rayon skirt that skimmed my knees and a peacock-colored silk tank top with a plum-colored velvet jacket. My four-inch black patent leather pumps worked just fine with the outfit, and I'd rummaged in the closet until I found a snakeskin purse in burgundy. Altogether, when I masked my glamour, I looked like a slightly surreal human woman.

Morio, posing as my fiance, had changed into gray slacks and a cobalt V-neck sweater and loafers. Just your average yuppie couple out to visit one of the wacked-out relatives, Your Honor. No harm. No foul.

We slowly got out of the car and looked around. I closed my eyes, trying to get a feel for the place. There was a lot of chaotic energy around. Some of it seemed to hinge on the edge of shadow magic, but when I examined it more closely, the madness that really did exist here swam to the surface. But beneath the true mental illness, I could sense actual magic and a reaching out—searching for something. There were psychics here, and natural-born witches who had no clue to their own powers, and whose families had deemed them unsuitable for everyday life.

"There's so many conflicting energies snarled up together that I don't know if it can ever be sorted out." I opened my eyes and put on sunglasses. My eyes were one of the most telling features of my father's Fae blood. Cloak them, mask my glamour, and I might just make it through posing as Benjamin's cousin.

"At least they don't stone people anymore for being touched. Or throw them in a madhouse and leave them to fight and kill one another." Morio looked me over. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be voguing it up."

"Oh please," I said, catching my hair back into as tidy a bun as I could. Stray strands kept trying to escape. Curly hair does not for smooth shininess make. "I'm a little over the top for Vogue … but I think this will work. Passable?" I slipped my bag over my arm and posed, hand on hips.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and I could see the smile behind them. "You always look beautiful, no matter what you're wearing. Even in that getup. But you sure look… unnatural… without your breasts popping out." And with that, he held out his arm. "Shall we? And if anybody asks, we're getting married in June—that's the standard wedding month."

"June, huh? In Y'Elestrial weddings are often during winter, when the city slows down and the Yuletide holidays near." I gave him a veiled smile. "My mother and father were married at Midwinter. She had never seen a Fae wedding, of course, and she wanted a white gown, like an Earthside bride would wear. That's not traditional over in Y'Elestrial, of course. But Father commissioned the seamstress to make her one out of snow white spider-silk and spun gold."

"Your father loved your mother very much, didn't he?" Morio asked as we strolled toward the building.

"That he did. He loved her enough to take on the Court and Crown and petition to gain her citizenship rights. He loved her enough to stay with her after she refused to drink the nectar of life, and he loved her enough to live through her death. I still have her dress, you know," I said quietly.

"Her wedding dress?"

"Yes, tucked away in the back of my closet. I'm glad I brought it with me, considering all our things were either hurried into storage or confiscated by Lethesanar. I'd hate to lose it. It wouldn't fit me—I'm too curvy—but I've always imagined we might be able to alter it for Delilah. I know she'll get married someday. It's in her nature."

"And what about you?" Morio stopped then, turning to me. "Are you ever going to marry? Trillian… or anyone?"

I wondered if there was an "or me" behind his question but wasn't going to put him on the spot by asking. Instead, I inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. "Marriage? How can I even think of it? If this were Y'Elestrial, or anywhere in Otherworld, I'd marry the both of you the minute you asked. We could legally form a triad there. But with the demons… The truth is, I don't know if I believe in the future now. I don't know if I believe we can win against Shadow Wing."

And there it was, my inner fear revealed. A part of me whispered that we were all doomed. That we were headed down the path to hell, and there was a fiery demon lord on the other end waiting for us. That didn't mean I'd give up, but I was rapidly losing hope that we could forever stem the demonic tides washing up against the shores of our worlds.

Raising my head, I stared at him. "My duty comes first. Father raised me to honor my commitments and to accept my responsibilities, even when I'd rather run like hell the other way. The battle matters most."

Morio said nothing but looped his arm through mine as we approached the entrance to the Mountain Aspen Retreat. We were almost to the door when an attendant opened it for us, flourishing his arm as he motioned us in.

The entrance reminded me of a grand foyer to some luxurious hotel. With faux marble floors polished to a high shine and an antique gold and green color combination, it was hard to believe we were walking into a what was, essentially, an institution.

I leaned over to whisper in Morio's ear. "They have to have some high-end fees to pay for this layout."

He gave me an imperceptible nod. "From what I could tell on my visit last time, most of the patients come from extremely well-off families. This is old money territory, and the families who drop their problem children off pay well to keep it quiet. This is a good place to deposit a wayward child or aunt who's developed a reputation for being a social embarrassment."