Cassandra Palmer 1(37)
Billy Joe bitched, of course, but I was too busy trying to make the salvageable part of my outfit presentable to care. He finally gave up. «Fine, but I'll need an energy draw if you expect me to play fetch. It's been a tough night, and I don't got the juice to spare.»
I wasn't pleased. I felt like crap and had to go off someone in Vegas; I didn't need this. But I could hardly go scouting around MAGIC headquarters myself, so I motioned him over without the usual fuss. Billy Joe put a hand on his chest. «Be still my heart.»
«Just do it.»
I swear he felt me up as we merged, assuming that a cloud of mist can feel. Knowing him, I'm pretty sure it can. He blew against me and, as always, the feel of him was soothing to my frazzled nerves. I've heard that norms find the company of ghosts terrifying or, at best, chilling; to me, they've always been like a cool breeze on a hot day. Under the circumstances, I didn't just open up and welcome him; whatever part of me convened with ghosts pulled him inside like a frightened child gripping a teddy bear.
For an instant I had flashes of his life: our ship pulled away from a distant shore and we watched the gray, windswept coast recede through a haze of tears; a pretty girl, maybe fifteen, wearing too much makeup and a dance-hall costume, gave us a knowing smile; a young, would-be hostler tried to cheat us, and we laughed as we pulled the ace out of his boot, then had to. dodge the knife his accomplice threw. It was often like this, and through the years I'd Seen enough mini newsreels to be amazed that Billy had survived as long as he had.
Finally, he got comfortable and started the draw. It was usually not an unpleasant experience, just tiring, but this time pain flared through my body as soon as he began. It wasn't overwhelming, more like a burst of static electricity on a doorknob, but it sizzled along my veins until silver sparkles flickered behind my eyelids. I tried to order him out, to say that something was wrong, but all that left my mouth was a startled wheeze. A second later, the sensation flashed bright enough to leave negative imprints on my vision. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. A warm wind swept across me, so thick it felt like liquid; then Billy Joe erupted out of me and zoomed around the ceiling a few times.
«Woo-hoo! Now that's what I call a meal!» His eyes were sparkling and his color was bright, more so than it should have been.
I straightened up and, for the first time in a while, didn't feel like collapsing. Instead of being tired and a little cranky—my usual reaction to Billy Joe's snack sessions—I felt wonderful, rejuvenated. It was like having a full night's sleep compressed into a few minutes, and it was definitely not normal. «Not that I'm complaining, but what just happened here?»
Billy Joe grinned. «Some vamp has been leeching your strength, darlin', probably to keep you from trying to escape. He drained a lot of your energy into a sort of metaphysical holding pot, and warded it with some of his own so you couldn't access it until he released you. I accidentally broke through the wards when I tried to draw from you, and got one hell of a rush.» He waggled his eyebrows at me, and they were almost as brown and solid as they must have been in life. «Damn, let's party!»
«Party later. Right now I need my stuff.»
Billy Joe saluted smartly and streamed out of the window like a glittering comet. I sat on the side of the tub and wondered who it was who had done the hocus-pocus. Not that it mattered; it just gave me yet another reason not to trust anyone. Not that I'd been planning on it.
I'd finished the cleanup by the time Billy Joe got back. He floated through the window, scowling, and his hands were empty. «I left everything outside. That thing's gonna be a problem.»
«What thing?» I grabbed a towel to keep from standing around in only my panties and walked over to the window. I saw what he meant as soon as my hand reached for the latch and it tried to scream. I stuffed the end of my towel into its newly acquired mouth and stared at it in annoyance. Wasn't it enough that they'd put wards on my energy, parked a bunch of master-level vamps outside my door and stranded me somewhere in the middle of the desert? Did they really need a charm on the window, too? Apparently, someone thought they did.
«Somebody cast a Marley on it,» Billy said.
«You think?» I asked sarcastically, squatting to examine it more closely. The old-fashioned, bulbous latch had suddenly grown a pair of beady little eyes and a big, fat mouth. It was trying to spit out my towel so it could yell a warning, one that would no doubt slice right through the silencing spell and alert everyone in the outer room. When I tried to grab it to hold it in place, it started sliding back and forth along the length of the window, avoiding my hands. Looking at its expression, I think it would have bitten me if it could have. I narrowed my eyes at it. «Get me some toilet paper,» I told Billy. «A lot of it.»