Faith is about what you do. It's about aspiring to be better and nobler and kinder than you are. It's about making sacrifices for the good of others-even when there's not going to be anyone telling you what a hero you are.
Faith is a power of its own, and one even more elusive and difficult to define than magic. A symbol of faith, presented with genuine belief and sincerity, is the bane of many an otherworldly predator-and one of the creatures most strongly affected were vampires of the Red Court. I don't know how it works, or why. I don't know if some kind of powerful being or Being must get involved along the line. I never asked for one of them to do that-but if so, one of them was backing me up anyway.
The pentacle flared into brilliant silver light that struck Esmerelda like a six-foot wave, throwing her off of me and tearing the flesh mask she wore to shreds, revealing the creature inside it.
I twisted and presented the symbol to Esteban, but he had already backed several paces away, and it only forced him to lift his hand to shade his eyes as he continued retreating.
There was a hissing, serpentine sound from Esmerelda, and I saw a gaunt, black-skinned creature stand up out of the ruins of gown and flesh mask alike. It was just as small as she was, but its limbs were longer, by at least a third, than hers had seemed, long and scrawny. A flabby black belly sagged down, and its face would make one of those really ugly South American bats feel better about itself.
She opened her jaws, baring fangs and a long, writhing tongue that was pink with black spots. Her all-black eyes were ablaze with fury.
Shadows shifted as a pale blue light began to grow nearer, and the woods suddenly rang out with Mouse's triumphant hunting howl. He had found my scent-or that of the vampires-and was closing in.
Esmerelda hissed again, and the sound was full of rage and hate.
"We mustn't!" Esteban snarled. He dashed around me with supernatural speed, giving the glowing pendant a wide berth. He seized the little vampire woman by the arm. They both stared at me for an instant with their cold, empty black eyes-and then there was the sound of a rushing wind and they were gone.
I sagged onto the ground gratefully. My racing heart began to slow, my fear to subside. My confusion as to what was happening remained, though. Maybe it was so tangled and impossible because I was so exhausted.
Yeah. Right.
Mouse let out a single loud bark and then the big dog was standing next to me, over me. He nudged me with his nose until I lifted a hand and scratched his ears a little.
Thomas and Molly arrived next. I was glad Thomas had let Mouse do the pursuit, while he came along more slowly so that my apprentice wouldn't be alone in the woods. His eyes were bright silver, his mouth set in a smug line, and there was broken glass shining in his hair. The left half of Molly's upper body was generously coated in green paint.
"Okay," I slurred. "I'm backward."
"What's that?" Molly asked, kneeling down next to me, her expression worried.
"Backward. 'M a detective. Supposed to find things out. I been working backward. The more I look at it, the more certain I am that I have no idea what's going on."
"Can you stand?" Thomas asked.
"Leg," I said. "Ribs. Might be broken. Can't take the weight."
"I'll carry him," Thomas said. "Find a phone."
"Okay."
My brother picked me up and carried me out of the woods. We went back to the car.
The car's remains remains.
I stared dully at the mess. It looked as though something had taken Thomas's white Jag and put it in a trash compactor with the Blue Beetle Blue Beetle. The two cars, together, had been smashed down into a mass about four feet high. Liquids and fuel bled out onto the street below them.
Thomas gingerly put me down on my good leg as I stared at my car.
There was no way the Beetle was going to resurrect from this one. I found myself blinking tears out of my eyes. It wasn't an expensive car. It wasn't a sexy car. It was my my car. car.
And it was gone.
"Dammit," I mumbled.
"Hmmm?" Thomas asked. He looked considerably less broken up than me.
"My staff was inna car." I sighed. "Takes weeks to make one of those."
"Lara's going to be annoyed with me," Thomas said. "That's the third one this year."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. I feel your pain. What happened with the big thing?"
"The fight?" Thomas shrugged. "Bullfighting tactics, for the most part. When it tried to focus on one, the other two would come at its back. Mouse did you rather proud."
The big dog wagged his tail cheerily.
"Paint?" I asked.
"Oh, the thing threw a five-gallon bucket of paint at her, either trying to kill her with it or so it could try to see her through the veil. Worked for about five seconds, too, but then she fixed it and was gone again. She did fairly well for someone so limited in offense," Thomas said. "Let me see if I can salvage anything from my trunk. Excuse me."
I just sat down on the street in front of the car, and Mouse came up to sit with me, offering a furry flank for support. The Blue Beetle Blue Beetle was dead. I was too tired to cry much. was dead. I was too tired to cry much.
"I called a cab," Molly said, reappearing. "It will meet us two blocks down. Get him and I'll veil us until it arrives."
"Yeah," Thomas said, and picked me up again.
I don't remember being awake for the cab ride.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Thomas supported most of my weight as my injured leg began to buckle, and settled me in one of the chairs in the living room.
"We can't be here long," he said. "Those two Reds know he's injured and exhausted. They'll be back, looking for an opening or trying to pick one of us off when we're vulnerable."
"Right, right," Molly said. "How is he?"
He crouched down in front of me and peered at me. His irises looked like polished chrome. "Still punchy."
"Shock?"
"Maybe. He's in a lot of pain."
I was? Oh. I was. That might explain the way I wasn't talking, I guessed.
"God," Molly said, her voice shaking. "I'll get some of his things."
"This isn't right," Thomas said. "Get Bob."
Molly sounded confused. "Get what?"
His expression flickered with surprise and then went neutral again. "Sorry. Lips disconnected from my brain. Get the Swords."
"They aren't here," Molly said, moving around. Her voice came from my bedroom. "He moved them. Hid them, along with his ghost dust and a bunch of other illegal things."
Thomas frowned at that and then nodded. "Okay. It'll have to do. Where do we take him?"
Molly appeared in my field of vision and knelt down to peer at me. She took one of my hands in hers. "Wherever is good, I guess."
Thomas took a slow breath. His silver eyes grew even brighter. It was creepy as hell and fascinating. "I was hoping you knew a good spot. I sure as hell can't take him to my place."
Molly's voice sharpened. "I don't even have have a place," she said. "I still live at my parents' house." a place," she said. "I still live at my parents' house."
"Less whining," Thomas said, his voice cool. "More telling me a place to take him where he won't be killed."
"I am-" Molly began. Then she closed her eyes for a second, and moderated her tone. "I am sorry. I'm just ..." She glanced up at Thomas. "I'm just scared."
"I know," Thomas said through clenched teeth.
"Um," Molly said. She swallowed. "Why do your eyes do that?"
There was a lengthy pause before Thomas answered. "They aren't my eyes, Miss Carpenter. They're my demon's eyes. The better to see you with."
"Demon ..." Molly said. She was staring. "You're hungry. Like, the vampire way."
"After a fight like that?" Thomas said. "I'm barely sane."
Both of them should have known better. Every time a wizard looks another person in the eyes, he runs the risk of triggering a deeper seeing, a voyeuristic peep through the windows of someone else's soul. You get a snapshot of the true nature of that person, and they get a peek back at you.
It was only the second time I'd ever seen a soulgaze happen to someone else. There was an instant where both of them locked their eyes on each other's. Molly's eyes widened suddenly, like a frightened doe's, and she jerked in a sharp breath. She stared at him with her chin twisting to one side, as if she were trying-and failing-to look away.
Thomas went unnaturally still, and though his eyes also widened, it reminded me more of a cat crouching down in anticipation, just before pouncing on its prey.
Molly's back arched slightly and a soft moan escaped her. Her eyes filled with tears.
"God," she said. "God. No. No, you're beautiful. God, you hurt so much, need so much... . Let me help you... ." She fumbled for his hand.
Thomas never moved as her fingers touched his. Not a muscle. His eyes closed very slowly.
"Miss Carpenter," he whispered. "Do not touch me. Please."
"No, it's all right," Molly said. "It's all right. I'm here."
Thomas's hand moved too quickly to be seen. He caught her wrist in his pale fingers, and she let out a short gasp. He opened his eyes and focused on hers, and Molly began to breathe harder. The tips of her breasts showed against her shirt and her mouth opened with another soft moan.
I think I made a quiet sound of protest. Neither of them heard it.
He leaned closer, the motion feline and serpentine at the same time. Molly began trembling. She licked her lips and began to slowly lean forward, toward him. Their lips met, and her body quivered, tensed, and then went rigid. A breathless sound escaped her as her eyes rolled back in her head, and Thomas was suddenly pressed against her. Molly's hips rocked against his. Her hands came up and began clawing at his shirt, tearing the buttons from the silk so that her palms could flatten against his naked chest.
Mouse hit Thomas like a wrecking ball.
The big dog's charge tore my brother away from my apprentice and slammed him into the brick of the fireplace. Thomas let out a sudden snarl of pure, surprised rage, but Mouse had him by the throat before he could recover.
The big dog's jaws didn't snap closed-but the tips of his teeth sank into flesh, and he held Thomas there, a growl bubbling from his chest. My brother's hand flailed, reaching for the poker that hung beside the fireplace. Mouse took note of it and gave Thomas a warning shake, his teeth sinking a tiny bit deeper. My brother didn't quit reaching for the weapon, and I saw the tension gathering in the big dog's body.
I came rushing back into myself all at once and said, weakly, "Thomas."
He froze. Mouse cocked an ear toward me.
"Thomas," I croaked. "Don't. He's protecting the girl."
Thomas let out a gasping, pained sound. Then I saw him grimace and force himself to relax, to surrender. His body slowly eased away from its fighting tension, and he held up both hands palms out, and lifted his chin a little higher.
"Okay," he rasped. "Okay. It's okay now."
"Show me your eyes," I said.
He did. They were a shade of pale, pale grey, with only flecks of reflective hunger dancing through them.
I grunted. "Mouse."
Mouse backed off slowly, gradually easing the pressure of his jaws, gently taking his teeth out of Thomas's throat. He took a pair of steps back and then sat down, head lowered to a fighting crouch that kept his own throat covered. He kept facing Thomas, made no sound, and didn't move. It looked odd and eerie on the big dog.
"Can't stay here," Thomas said. The bite wounds in his throat looked swollen, angry. Their edges were slightly blackened, as if the dog's teeth had been red- hot. "Not with her like that." He closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to. Sorry."
I looked at Molly, who was curled into a fetal position and shaking, still breathing hard.
"Get out," I said.
"How will you-"
"Thomas," I said, and my voice was slightly stronger, hot with anger. "You could have hurt Molly. You could have killed her. My only defense is down here babysitting you instead of standing guard. Get out. You're no good to me like this."
Mouse let out another warning growl.
"I'm sorry," Thomas said again. "I'm sorry."
Then he eased around Mouse and departed, his feet making little sound as he went up the stairs.
I sat there for a moment, hurting in practically every sense. My entire body tingled with unpleasant pinpricks, as though it had gone to sleep and was only now feeling the return of circulation. The soulfire. I must have pushed too much of it through me. Terror- adrenaline must have kept me rolling for a little while, but after that, I'd collapsed into pure passivity.
Terror on behalf of my brother and Molly had given me back my voice, my will, but it might not last. It hurt to sit upright. It hurt to breathe. Moving anything hurt, and not not moving anything hurt. moving anything hurt.