“What does Rheesha smell like?”
“What?”
“Does she smell anything like you? Like Lulu? Do you know what the last spell was that she cast? What are her favorite spells? Does she have any pets? Has she ever touched this picture?”
Pike’s eyebrows arched up, and he gave me one respectful nod. He was going to owe me a lot more than that for Hounding his granddaughter. Still, the questions and my all-business, no-bullshit attitude seemed to pull him out of what I feared was a suicidal spin.
That was another way Hounds died young. One of the easiest ways.
He took five minutes telling me what I needed to know, the perfume, her pets (snakes), and the spells she most used.
“I’m not going to get her out,” I said, “but I’ll try to find her and get out as soon as I can. If she’s in there, we’ll call the police. I’ll tell them what I know, and I’ll try to keep Lulu out of it. We’ll let the law take over from there.”
Pike nodded. “She was right about you,” he said.
“Who?”
“Mama.”
Sweet hells, who wasn’t trying to make me Hound this girl? I decided to get angry at Mama for selling me out later.
“Tell me about it when I come back.”
I left the photo on the seat of the car and headed down the street toward Trager’s address. After about fifteen minutes, I was right in Trager’s backyard. If any of his people had brains, they’d come out and escort me to their boss.
“What’s a lovely lady like yourself doing out alone tonight?” A man appeared out of the building’s corner shadow and took a few steps toward me. He was dressed in a suit and had one of those cell phone things sticking off of his ear.
“I’m looking for Trager. Is his place down this way?” Here’s one of the things I didn’t think Pike, or really anyone, knew about my family line. We are very, very good at Influence. With just the slightest nudge of magic, we can pretty much make people want to do what we tell them to do. And this guy was not immune. I hated using it, because it wrecked hell with a person’s free will, but, hey, there could be an almost-dead girl in there who needed my help.
Suit smiled, and the streetlight caught a glint of gold off his incisor. “Yes, it is. Who may I say is calling?”
“Allison Beckstrom. I’d like to see him now. Take me inside.”
“Of course. Right this way.”
Bingo.
I gave him what I hoped was a bright smile. Inside I was pretty terrified. I wasn’t kidding when I told Pike I didn’t own a gun, and it took more than Influence to dodge a bullet.
Note to self: If I survive this, take a martial arts class and go to the shooting range.
The walk wasn’t far-just two more doors down. Okay, I don’t know what I was expecting-a seedy room, people lying around in their own filth, maybe. Bad lighting at least. But the room looked like a fine restaurant. White linen tables all arranged behind silk privacy screens were tastefully up-lighted to give off pastel tones of gold and amber and plum. It looked trendy, expensive as hell, and stank of cherries, cherries, cherries.
“Very nice,” I said. I was starting to sweat under the strain of Influencing Suit. He wasn’t resisting, but I think deep down, he knew he was screwed. “I’d like to see the girl named Rheesha Miller. Take me to her.” I dug magic out of the ground and threw it behind my words. Unlike other spells, I could use Influence without a mantra and without tracing the glyph for it with my fingers. But it still took effort, still took magic, still took calm and concentration.
Suit’s smile slipped just a little, but he couldn’t break the Influence. “Follow me.”
He butlered me along a walkway that obscured the occupants behind the screens, then down a plush, red-carpeted hallway. At the end of the hallway was a modern glass and lead door that both contained and blocked magic. Behind that was probably Trager’s suite.
My heart started beating too fast. I didn’t want to go behind those doors, didn’t want to see what kind of man Trager really was.
Suit walked up to the door, and my stomach tightened in fear. Please, no. Don’t open that door. He walked past the door and down the darker hallway to the left. Plain wood doors were spaced out evenly on either side of us.
Now would be a good time to try Hounding. I wasn’t kidding when I said I went to Harvard. I knew how to recite mantras silently. I knew how to draw magic into my sense of sight and smell by casting the spell with one hand and adjusting my bra strap with the other. It was similar to how stage magicians keep the audience’s eyes where they want them to be, except, you know, this might be a lot more dangerous because there might be people with guns pointed at my head.
I pulled magic into my senses. The stink of Blood magic went from overwhelming, to so thick I gagged. Sweet cherry mixed with too many other odors: turpentine, animal sweat, rot, sex. I inhaled carefully as we strolled down the hall. It was damn near impossible to untangle the smells and signatures of the hundreds of spells that lingered in the air. I couldn’t smell anything that might be even remotely close to Rheesha’s scents.
Maybe Pike was wrong. Or crazy. That thought had crossed my mind. Maybe he was grieving for his granddaughter and grasping at straws. Or maybe he’d been part of a plan to get rid of me-take out the newest Hound on the block. Suit could be in on it. Maybe Suit wasn’t really under my Influence. Maybe I was about to lose hold on my concentration, my spells, and really fuck this up.
Fingers of panic rose up my throat.
I thought calm thoughts, took a deep breath, and tried not to choke. If I panicked, this whole charade was going to crash around me.
Then I smelled it, the hint of Rheesha’s perfume and the musty smell of snake. Not a sure thing, but something to hope for.
Suit stopped at a door and scanned a key card over the lock. He opened the door and stood aside.
“Thank you,” I said. “Now, walk to the nearest empty room and go to sleep.”
He stood there, and my heart beat harder. “Be a good boy. Go to sleep.”
Suit walked woodenly down the hall to the right.
I stepped into the room and turned on the light.
Small, with just enough space for a king-sized bed and two chairs. There was also a table on top of which were tubes and rubber hoses, knives, and other things I didn’t have time to get pissed off about.
Rheesha Miller sat with her back against the headboard. Her legs were drawn up close to her body and her wrists were tied to the headboard, just high enough that her hands were blue. Her bare arms looked as though someone had inked a red tattoo from wrist to shoulder, but the smell of her blood and sex was heavy in the room. That wasn’t a tattoo-she’d been cut. Since she was naked, I knew they hadn’t had time to carve up the rest of her yet. It took her a full minute to look over at me. Brown-black eyes like her sister’s but wide, bloodshot, and doped up.
Note to self: After I learn to use a gun, come back here and kick some ass.
Screw the call-the-cops plan. I was getting this girl out of here now.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “Stay quiet.” I put Influence behind it, but I don’t think I had to. By the time I found a knife from the table and had cut her free of the rubber shackles, she had passed out.
Which presented another problem. How was I going to nonchalantly stroll out of this place with a naked girl over my shoulder?
Sweet hells.
I looked around the room for clothing, found nothing.
Think, Allie. You went to Harvard. You’re supposed to be smart. I couldn’t Influence everyone in the building-I was already fatigued and headachy from pushing Suit around. I didn’t have time or the equipment to set something on fire, couldn’t afford a stupid cell phone.