Spirit and Dust - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,111

The Black Jackal had sent the Brotherhood after Carson and me armed with a share of all his power. And Carson had just called it all back.

“The Jackal giveth,” he said, “and the Jackal taketh away.”

He stirred the air like a huge cauldron. The shades in the hall dissolved, became a fluid swirl of mist with snatches of tooth and claw and spear. It cast a sickly light on the marble hall as it circled, catching the Brotherhood up in a whirlpool prison.

“Holy crap,” whispered Taylor. “That’s all … ghosts?”

“Spirits. Yes.” It was really impressive, and utterly terrifying, the effortless way he controlled it.

Not it. Them. Remnant shades of ancient memory.

I glanced at Taylor. Something metal glinted in his hand. “No one took my backup revolver,” he explained, sounding relieved. “Those henchmen aren’t exactly the brain trust.”

Then he gave me a serious, this-is-real-and-shit-is-about-to-go-down look. I knew he hadn’t ever shot anyone, but I also knew he’d trained for it. “Are you aware of the biggest threat in the room? Look.”

I did. Worse, I heard. The imprisoning circle of spirit was tightening around the Brotherhood with hunting-cat snarls and the escalating beat of tribal drums. There was a cry of pain as one of the brethren got too close and drew back a slashed arm, blood dripping on the tile.

“Please don’t shoot Carson,” I said, more plaintively than I intended. “I’m not sure that will stop the Jackal.”

I was not sure what would stop the Jackal. But I had to find out.

Another scream, this one from Alexis. It was harder to see her and her minions through the circling glow.

“Let’s go,” said Taylor. “Get Carson to stop. I’ll cover the girl and make sure she doesn’t get away.”

“Okay.” I think he expected me to wait for a count of three, but I didn’t. I charged out of the shadows and stepped between Carson and the swirling remnants. “That’s enough!” I shouted. “You’re just torturing them!”

He didn’t look surprised to see me. He looked so normal—way more normal than he should look with that much power inside him.

“They’d do the same to you,” he said, very reasonably. “Alexis would have killed you and used your soul to fuel her magic. And you’re worried about a few cuts and scrapes?”

“Not the Brotherhood,” I said, though I meant them, too. “The remnants. You know what they are, and you’re toying with them.”

He waved a hand and the whirlwind ceased. The spirits dissolved again, this time into a fog lying low on the floor, spreading in abstract phosphorescent eddies. All except the Native Americans that Carson had first summoned an age ago. They stood guard around his half sister and the half-dozen brethren.

“Don’t move,” said Taylor, his gun drawn and aimed at Alexis. “None of you. Put any weapons you have on the ground.”

Only the brethren looked worried. Alexis fumed and the shades of the warriors didn’t react at all.

Carson strode through the spectral fog, bridging the distance between us. “Don’t you think that’s a little redundant, Agent Taylor?” he asked, nodding to the spear carriers, then the agent’s gun.

“I’m too conventional to leave this to ghost guards,” said Taylor. “And I don’t trust you.”

“You shouldn’t,” said Alexis, standing with her hands obediently in the air. “You should just stay out of this, junior G-man.”

Johnson spoke up. I guess he hadn’t completely lost his spine with Alexis around. “And how are you going to arrest all six of us by yourself?”

Carson made an annoyed sound. “I don’t mind helping him with that, asshole.”

The shades of all the Native American tribesmen standing guard on the brethren simply vanished, gone without so much as a wisp of woodsmoke in the moonlight. In the same moment, Carson snapped his fingers and five guys dropped to the floor, whammied into unconsciousness from twenty feet away.

I was so stunned that it took me a second to realize Alexis was still standing there. Taylor swung around to include Carson in his sights, too, as best as he could. “Don’t move, Maguire. World Series weird or not, I’m not messing around.”

The siblings ignored him. “Did you really think I’d be dumb enough not to protect myself from that trick?” Alexis sneered.

“Are you dumb enough not to realize the Jackal would tell me everything you’ve been up to?” Carson fired back. “How could you kill Lauren? She was always nice to you.”

“She was way too insightful,” said Alexis, and I guessed that would be a problem when you were constantly playing everyone in