he needs probable cause, look into the Beaumont Corporation. There’s a safe in Maguire’s office, behind the bookshelf. That’s where he keeps my mom’s soul. Let her go for me, okay?”
His measured composure frightened me more than an impassioned plea. “You know I will. But why does this sound less like making a plan and more like saying goodbye?”
My worry made him relent with a soft laugh. “I’m not planning to jump into Mount Doom with the One Ring or anything. But I might be in jail. And you probably won’t want to see me again. So I’m making a contingency plan.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” He still held my shoulders and I started to push him away but somehow ended up holding on instead, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.
“Ow.” He covered my hand with his. “Johnson left some bruises there. Be careful.”
“Be careful?” I socked him, in case that got through his stubborn head. “You’re talking about facing an überghost who can raise the freaking dead. Why would you not take along someone who can vanquish ghosts, you jackass?”
“I’m going to miss these pet names of yours, Sunshine.”
“No you’re not, because I’m going with you.”
I yanked my hands from his and tried again to push him back a step. But as my fingers touched his shoulder, a shock raced along my nerves, raising gooseflesh and shivers all over me. Not good shivers, either.
Remnant shivers.
“What is that?” I demanded, with a rising note of … of everything. Panic, betrayal, hysteria. Because I’d felt a shock like that from living skin only once before—when I’d touched McSlackerson’s tattoo in the St. Louis museum.
The Black Jackal’s mark.
Carson closed his eyes and sighed, an exhale of regret and inevitability. “That was a mistake I made. And it’s why you can’t come with me. You want to send the Jackal back to the afterlife, and I can’t let you do that. Not yet.”
I couldn’t make those words make sense, and I couldn’t make myself move away as he brushed back my hair—and I couldn’t resist as sudden darkness dropped the floor out from under me.
The jackass had whammied me. There were strong arms holding me and a warm kiss on my neck and a whisper in my ear, “Don’t hate me too much, Daisy. And don’t forget about my mom.”
And then nothing.
32
“DAISY GOODNIGHT, YOU are under arrest for the obstruction of a federal investigation, evading custody, conspiring to commit motor vehicle theft …”
There might have been more, but Agent Gerard’s voice merged with the buzzing whine in my head. The armed response team had arrived. I was stretched out on the couch in Marian’s office, and Gerard looked like the devil himself in the red emergency lights.
“You can’t arrest her while she’s semiconscious,” said Agent Taylor. I hadn’t awakened at the armed forces busting through the door, but at Taylor’s hand on my shoulder. I’d nearly cried at the sight of his familiar, loyal face.
I nearly cried for a lot of reasons. The headache beating at the inside of my skull was the least of them.
I was angry and hurt and mad at myself for being hurt, but most of all, eating up all those emotions like a lion in the pit of my stomach, was worry for Carson. Almost as much worry as there was fury.
How far back had he betrayed me? If he’d been in on the Brotherhood’s plan, he was an impossibly good actor. And there was no faking the animosity between him and Johnson. But all the same, he’d been keeping secrets from the start.
Don’t you ever want to take that guy and boot him into an early hell?
Carson wasn’t after power. He was after vengeance.
“We need to go, sir,” said one of the guys in black fatigues. Taylor and Gerard had them on, too.
“Just give me a sec,” I said, sitting up slowly. More slowly, maybe, than necessary. I needed time to think.
Taylor crouched beside me, watching me like I was going to break. Behind him I could see my museum comrades closing ranks on Gerard.
“You can’t arrest her,” said Lab Coat. “She saved us from those mummies. And a big-ass lion.”
“Sir,” said Captain Fatigues, intervening between the nerd and the agent, “you’ve been exposed to a hallucinogenic substance, and we need to get all of you out of here and to medical attention.”
Gerard had already turned back to me. “Where is your buddy, Peanut? Reenacting Die Hard downstairs?”
I tried to glare up at him, but it hurt my