A black eye. Swell.
Ivy’s voice murmured as she talked on the phone, and after taking care of my most urgent need, I decided a shower could wait until after I got a few questions answered and my stomach filled. The dryer contained a pair of jeans instead of Kisten’s clothes, so with a new depression, I tucked my STAFF shirt in, invoked a complexion charm, ran a toothbrush over my teeth, and called it good. The smell of coffee sifting in under the door made me feel ill, I was so hungry.
Movements slow from the expectation of bad news, I headed out. The bright light of a new day spilled into the hallway from the kitchen. This was the third morning I’d gotten up at dawn instead of going to bed, and I was tired of it.
“Rachel just woke up,” came Ivy’s voice before I had gone two steps, and I slowed. She wasn’t on the phone; we had someone in our kitchen. “She’s not talking to anyone until she gets a chance to eat and catch her breath, and she’s not talking to your shrink, so you can just get back into your cruiser and the hell back to the FIB where you belong.”
My eyebrows rose, and I hastened forward. What’s Glenn doing here?
Shit. Kisten, I thought miserably, answering my own question. He’s dead.
“Felps wasn’t at Sparagmos’s apartment,” I heard Edden say, and my reality shifted. Not only was Kisten’s death still uncertain, but this wasn’t Glenn, it was his dad. I didn’t know if that was better or worse. “We need to find him, and Rachel might be able to help,” he finished.
“Give the woman some peace!” Jenks said. “Piscary said he was dead. Find him on your own. The I.S. isn’t going to stop you. They don’t care.”
I pushed into motion, ready to try anything if it would lead to Kisten’s still being alive. “But if he’s alive, he might be hurt,” I said as I entered, and Edden turned from his position at the back of the kitchen. There was someone else with him, looking spare next to Edden’s squat bulk, and my bare feet squeaked to a stop. Edden had brought the FIB’s shrink out with him?
Edden glanced at the young man beside him. Ignoring the threat of Ivy standing before the sink with her arms crossed, Edden came forward, his brow pinched in worry. He was in his usual khaki slacks and white shirt, and the gun in his shoulder holster said he was working. “Rachel,” he said, glad to see me. “You look a lot better.”
“Thanks.” I blinked in surprise when he gave me a hug. The scent of Old Spice puffed up, and I couldn’t help my smile when he awkwardly dropped back. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He smiled and rubbed his elbow. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t you.”
I exhaled in relief, though still feeling guilty, and I looked over the kitchen for anything to eat. Nothing was cooking, but the coffeemaker was gurgling its last. The cake had been frosted, and it sat on the counter as a sad testament of how things were supposed to be. Depressed, I sank down at my spot at the table. “Kisten wasn’t at the apartment?” I asked, desperate hope almost painful as it settled in around my heart, and I glanced at the other guy, now shifting awkwardly. “Jenks said he called to say he was going underground. And Piscary has lied before. If Kisten might be alive, I’ll do anything.”
Edden’s friend went to speak, changing his mind when Ivy pushed away from the sink and slunk to her chair before her computer—her safe spot. Jenks stayed at the window, standing on the sill where he could keep an eye on his kids. I hadn’t realized how noisy they were at sunrise.
“Edden thinks human psychology can bring back your memory,” Ivy said, scowling. “Human science can’t best a witch charm. It’s only going to tear you up, Rachel.”
Ignoring her, Edden turned to the man, and he came forward with a hesitant confidence. “Dr. Miller, this is Rachel Morgan. Rachel, I want you to meet Dr. Miller, our psychiatrist.”
I leaned forward in my chair and shook his hand. The hope that Kisten might be alive was desperate and painful, and the color of the amulet Dr. Miller was wearing shifted from a deep purple to white. “Nice to meet you,” I said, indicating he should sit down, and he and Edden took two chairs to my right.
The young man had a nice grip, which wasn’t surprising if he was the FIB’s shrink. What did surprise me was the slight lifting of ever-after that had tried to pull through me when we touched. He was human—I didn’t sense any redwood coming off him at all, and he worked for the FIB—but he could do ley line magic. And his amulet was metallic—clearly a ley line charm.
He was taller than me, and his brown shoes made an odd statement against his gray slacks and gray-pinstriped white shirt. His black hair was cut to an easy style. His frame was spare, and he was wearing wire-rimmed glasses before his brown eyes.