Faye reversed her wheelchair, vanishing into the room. We followed.
Black Hole of Hate
FAYE ASHTON WAS A TINY WOMAN WHO, HAD SHE STOOD, probably wouldn’t have topped five feet. I doubted she weighed more than a hundred pounds. Though she was only in her late fifties, her hair was pure white and her face was lined with wrinkles. Her dark eyes danced with energy, giving her face the haunted look of a young spirit trapped within a body that had grown old before its time.
The wheelchair wasn’t the result of age or mental infirmity. Faye had been in one since a childhood battle with polio. That was how the Cabal found her. When Faye’s father, her clairvoyant parent, had been unable to cope with her growing medical bills, he’d contacted the Cortez Cabal and made them an offer. If they would give Faye the best possible care, they could take her. And they had.
As Oscar closed the door behind us, Faye wheeled her chair in a sharp 180.
“Took you long enough…and don’t give me any of that crap about not wanting to hurt me. There’s not enough left to hurt.”
“We had other leads to pursue,” Lucas said.
Faye grinned. “Good answer.” She looked at me. “You must be Ruth Winterbourne’s girl.”
“Paige,” I said, offering my hand.
She took my hand and, with a shockingly firm grip, pulled me down to kiss my cheek. Then she put her hands on either side of my face and held it in front of hers, eyes searching mine. A sheen of perspiration covered her forehead. After a minute, she released me and smiled.
“Wonderful,” she said.
“I think so,” Lucas said.
Faye laughed. “You should. You couldn’t do better. Now, what do you have for me?”
Lucas told her the details, particularly those about Edward. He also gave her a photo of Edward and Natasha that he’d taken from their house, plus a shirt he’d removed from Edward’s laundry hamper. I hadn’t known he’d taken either. He must have already been considering contacting Faye.
As Faye listened, the sheen of perspiration spread to her cheeks and jaw, then beaded into rivulets of sweat. The room was cool, with a faint air-conditioned breeze that set goose bumps springing up on my bare arms, but obviously that wasn’t enough for Faye. When Lucas finished, I offered to find Oscar and see if we could get Faye a fan or a cold drink.
“It’s not the temperature, hon,” she said. “It’s me. Keeping the old brain clear takes some effort.”
I remembered something my mother had done for a necromancer friend when she’d begun losing her battle with the spirit world.
“Can I try something?” I asked. “A spell?”
“You’re welcome to try.”
I cast a calming spell, then recast it for added strength. Faye closed her eyes. Her lips moved soundlessly, then she peeked one eye open.
“Not bad,” she said, then opened the other eye. She smiled and rolled her shoulders. “Well, that gives a bit of relief. What was it?”
“Just a calming spell. Any witch can do one. I’m surprised they don’t have a witch here. Shamans are great caretakers, but for a nurse, you really should have a witch.”
Faye snorted. “Try telling that to those damned sorcerers.”
“I will,” I said. “I’ll speak to Benicio next time I see him.”
Faye’s eyebrows shot up, and her lips curved just a fraction, as if waiting to burst into a laugh when I acknowledged the joke.
“She’s quite serious,” Lucas said. “She’ll tell him and, even more shocking, he’ll probably listen.”
“I have leverage,” I said, slanting a look toward Lucas.
Faye threw back her head, laughter filling the room. “You found the bastard’s weakness, did you? Clever girl. If you can get me a witch, you’ll move to the top of my approved visitors list. Now, let’s see what I can do for you.”
Faye laid Edward’s photo on her lap and stared down at it. I took a chair slightly behind Faye, knowing it was always easier to concentrate when your audience was out of sight. Lucas pulled a chair over beside mine.
After a moment, Faye’s shoulders dropped and she slouched forward. I glanced at Lucas. He nodded, telling me this was normal. At least ten minutes of silence passed. Then Faye’s body tensed. Her mouth opened.
“I have—”
She gasped and her body jerked upright, eyes rolling to the whites. Lucas leapt up. She blinked, recovering, and shooed Lucas away.
“Sorry,” she said. “Wrong tactic. I was too open. Got an emotional shock wave.”