Spirit and Dust - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,96

bitch.”

I clutched the book to my chest. “You’re choosing now to push me away? We need to stay a team, Carson.”

He folded his arms and gave me nothing. “We are. We’re a great team, Daisy. I would never have gotten this far without you.”

“Trapped in a library by man-eating lions and a self-appointed demigod in the basement?”

He laughed, then tried to pretend he hadn’t. “Well, maybe not.”

“So … all the rest of … everything?” I hated myself for blushing, for not being able to say kissing out loud. “That was just to win me over?”

His shrug might have been convincing two days ago. “I told you at the beginning. I am not a nice guy.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” I said, already mad and boiling up to furious. How dare he let me glimpse into his soul and then slam the door. “Because I told you at the beginning, I think you lie to yourself more than anyone.”

“That’s what criminals do.”

“Do you think I would be working with you if I thought that was all you were?”

“Yes. Because you’re sworn to find Alexis, and you’re determined to stop the Brotherhood and the Black Jackal.”

“I would have figured out some other way.”

“Right. With your darling Agent Taylor.”

“Exactly.” It was a jab at him, and I knew it. There was no comparison between the two—talk about apples and oranges—but Carson seemed sensitive on the subject, so I used it, because I could be a jackass, too.

If he flinched he didn’t show it. He just put a finger on the book I held clutched to my heart. “Translate the computer file, Sunshine. And when this is over, you can go back to solving mysteries with your rookie G-man and putting ghosts to rest with your wacky family and forget all about me.”

I hadn’t gotten as far as thinking about when this was over. But at least he was confident we would succeed. A lot more confident than I was, about that or anything else. Especially that bit about forgetting him.

But what I said aloud was “Fine.”

And he said, “Fine.”

“I’ll go get started,” I warned, giving him the chance to call me back and fix this, to make me stay so he could explain why he was working so hard to be a jackass.

He did none of those things. He just said, “So go.”

So I did.

31

BACK IN THE reading room, I put the book on the table next to Marian’s laptop, determined not to let emotional distractions interfere with what needed to be done. But it wasn’t that easy.

Carson, usually steady as a rock in his own rebel-with-a-cause way, was all over the place. The psychic tenor that ran through the building kept shifting, like tectonic plates, which did not make me feel better about whatever was going on outside the room. And without the power on, it had gotten really cold.

The rest of the group was in the librarian’s office, where it was warmer, and Lab Coat was trying to see if he could connect a laptop to the security camera feed, even with the main power off. Marian had wanted to stay, but I warned her she wouldn’t see much.

So it was just me and Carson. Nothing awkward about that.

Once I’d found Aunt Ivy’s picture, I propped the book open on the table and rubbed my hands together to get the blood back into my chilly fingers. “Ready?” I asked, and looped Carson in with my psyche, the way I had with Oosterhouse in the apartment.

“Ready,” he said, and got out of the way to let me work.

The picture was black-and-white, showing Ivy with her hair pulled into a braid, her foot braced on a rock, an artifact in one hand and a trowel in the other. But I pictured her in color, as I’d seen her at the Institute museum.

I focused on our similarities, on the links we shared in the chain of our DNA. I called to any remnant I could reach by any stretch of imagination. I pulled as if I could bring her all the way from 1932, and despite the cold, a sweat of effort stung my cuts and scrapes.

After all that, my aunt appeared with staggering abruptness, like I’d yanked with all my might on a door that hadn’t been locked. I caught myself on the table as Ivy, looking exactly as she had before, glanced around, getting her bearings. I was ready to introduce myself all over again to this new shade, but when she saw