Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel(65)

“Evie, Evie, Evie!”
Pamela stood back by the door, her eyes wide with awe. I’d asked her to wait for me there and she hadn’t argued. I couldn’t blame her; a Harpy was nothing to take lightly.
“Eve, I told you that you didn’t need to come,” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “The case will be over in a matter of hours. What the hell were you thinking?” I wasn’t doing my best imitation of calm, but I couldn’t help it. The last thing I needed was another lost soul to deal with. The case was difficult enough as it was.
She clacked her beak at me, eyes narrowed. “You are my mentor. I should be with you.”
I took a breath and held it. I could do this; I could be a mentor.
Right.
“How did you make it here so fast?” I asked, looking her over. She was dehydrated, her legs were paler than usual, and the exhaustion all but rolled off her.
“I flew straight across.”
My jaw dropped. “Eve, you could have died!”
“And you could die without my help,” she said, her voice dropping. “You are my family now, you and Alex. No clutch will want me; I have no true training. Not even what Eagle has taught me will be enough for me to stand through the Proving Ceremony.”
She’d mentioned this ceremony once before, then brushed it off. Apparently, all Harpies had to prove their abilities. Without training from another Harpy, Eve would never survive the ceremony. She was a complete outcast, as was Alex. As was I.
I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Thank you.”
Her head snapped up. “Why would you thank me, are you not angry now?”
“I am angry, but . . . you’re right. Family comes first.”
The corners of her mouth at the edges of her beak lifted, a Harpy’s version of a smile. “Good. Now, what can I do to help?”
“Just” —I lifted my hands— “wait here and rest.”
Again, her eyes narrowed, and my struggle with staying calm lost out. “Eve. You will wait here and rest until I say so. Don’t fuck around with me.”
The Harpy bobbed her head once. “Fine.”
“Fine.” I spun on my heel and strode to the door leading to the stairwell, where Pamela was waiting with it propped open. A soft sniffle from behind stopped me cold. Shit, Eve was crying. Again. Who knew a Harpy could be so damn emotional?
“Eve, I am glad you’re here. Just . . .” I glanced over my shoulder to see her hunched down under an awning on the roof, curling her head underneath her right wing.
Alex stood between us, his eyes sorrowful. “Evie sad.”
I made a decision, maybe not the best one, but one that would keep her busy and it might even help. “Eve, as soon as you can, make a circuit of the city. We’re looking for zombies, disturbed graveyards, and O’Shea.”
Her head snapped up. “O’Shea?”
I kept my voice even. “Milly has him. So if you see them, keep your distance.”
“I can go right now—”
“No, rest first, and then go.”
Giving me one last bob of her head, no more tears followed, thank the gods.
Alex, Pamela, and I headed down the stairwell, the echo of our footsteps bouncing wildly around us.
Kyle met us half way up. “I’ve got the files you wanted.”
Trotting down the rest of the stairs, I slammed open the stairwell door into the main office and jogged to the office. On screen was Anne Tolvay’s picture again, her file in black and white.
I read out loud, mostly because I could barely believe what I was seeing.
“Tolvay believes herself the mother of a child dead over a hundred years ago. Insists that she can raise the dead, has tried to kill several nurses just so she can prove that she has the ability to raise them from the dead.”
Kyle stepped up beside me. “That’s nothing. Check this out.”
He moved the mouse and clicked it on the next page.
“Tolvay escapes after claiming she can save children from death; claims she can keep them alive forever.”
“Is there anything else?” I asked, my mind reeling with the information.
“Well, there’s lots in her files, but do you need more?” Kyle made a move as if to show me another page, but he was right. I didn’t really need anything else.
I waved at him to stop. “No, this is enough. But . . . .”
Silence thickened between us. The hum of the computer and the ticking of the office clock the only noises in the room.
“But what?”
I thought about the look in Anne’s eyes from the pictures. She was mad, of that I was certain. Was it because of her Necromancer abilities? Was it the same kind of curse Giselle had, where the more Anne used her abilities, the more she lost herself to the madness?