Spirit and Dust - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,80
the counter and folded his arms. Not a receptive sort of posture. “Are you sure he can’t hear us? The Egyptian girl at the museum, she could leave her object.”
“You mean Cleopatra?” The reminder brought a fresh pang of failure, that I hadn’t protected her. “She was an extremely strong shade, thanks to her place in history. This poor guy—”
“Poor guy?” Carson echoed.
“Well, his institution booted him out. They were willing to keep the artifacts he collected, though.”
“I’m worried there was a reason for the Institute to distance themselves. Something more than just eccentric theories. I think you’re identifying a little closely with this one, Daisy. He’s not one of your lost lambs.”
“It’s not that,” I protested, maybe a little too much. “People like to be remembered. You heard the guy at the Institute—no one outside the archives has ever heard of him, in Egyptology, where everything is about being remembered.”
“No one outside the archives and the Brotherhood,” Carson said.
“You just don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“No. And your bagel is burning.”
Nuts! I popped it out of the toaster, but the damage was done. Tossing the blackened bread into the trash, I turned on Carson as if that were his fault. I found him standing much closer than I expected.
He spoke low, as if he really thought Oosterhouse’s remnant could be listening from the other room. “I think he knows more than he’s saying. Which is a lot of words and not a lot of information.”
I pitched my voice the same way. “He’s a professor. Of course he uses big words.” I grabbed the bag to take out another bagel.
“Here’s a big word for you, Sunshine.” He didn’t move out of my way, so I had to reach around him. “Obfuscate. It means ‘to blow smoke up someone’s ass.’ ”
I scowled. “You’re cranky before caffeine. Isn’t the space shuttle done making it yet?”
“I’m cranky,” he said, finally moving to get two mugs from a glass-front cabinet, “because—call me squeamish—I’m not exactly thrilled about desecrating a grave. We dodged that bullet with Mrs. Hardwicke, and now it’s coming back.”
“You’ll steal cars and museum artifacts and snatch reasonably innocent psychics off the street, but you draw the line at digging up bones?”
He finished pouring before he answered. “One, cars are just things. Two, my plan was to take good care of the psychic and return her undamaged. A grave, though … that’s like spitting on someone.”
The coffee he held out to me was extra light and extra sweet, exactly the way I’d fixed mine at the diner forever ago. When I reached for it, he didn’t let go until I met his eye.
“Three,” he said, with the ring of an oath, “I’m not drawing the line. I’d do whatever it takes to rescue Alexis. And if this Jackal is an unlimited power supply, it’s almost as important.”
“Okay,” I said, solemnly accepting his promise and noting his priorities. “Let’s say we manage to find the Jackal. I think maybe it’s time to talk about what we’re going to do with it.”
We had to rescue Alexis. But I didn’t want to hand over that kind of power, infinite or not, to the Brotherhood. Or, for that matter, to Maguire.
“We use it to get her back,” said Carson, without hesitation. “To find her and rescue her.”
“And not hand it over?” I asked, making sure we were clear on that.
“And not hand it over.”
There were so many problems with that idea, but I wanted to believe we could do it. That I could do it. Rescue Alexis … and Carson, too, from the hold Maguire had on his loyalty.
“I’m in,” I said, offering my own promise. “And it has nothing to do with the triple swear or any threat from Maguire. This has been voluntary ever since I realized they were messing with my remnants. And whatever is between you and your father—”
He gave me no warning before he kissed me. Didn’t move closer, didn’t take me in his arms, just swooped in and stopped my words with his mouth. Thoroughly. He drank down whatever I was going to say, and when I was speechless, only then did he lift the coffee cup from my hand and put it on the counter behind me. I almost didn’t notice because he did it without taking his lips from mine.
It was a perfectly choreographed move, a short step to wrap his arm around me and press me up against the cabinet. Not that I offered any resistance. I kissed