Reach for You Read online

  —Jaquith, Son of Malphic and High Eunuch

  It took forever to locate in which pocket the big guy had hidden his security keycard and to get them tied up in the closet. When we were done, I turned to Selena. “Did you finish scrying?”

  Her chin dipped, embarrassment written on her face. But she recovered in a flash. Her gaze met mine. Her voice pitched lower, steady and determined. “Yes, we’re inside the fence. Lotli’s in this room, somewhere. I’m a hundred percent certain.”

  “All righty, then,” Dad said. “Let’s get cracking and find her. Selena, use your senses, see if you can home in on Lotli’s magic. Annie, scan the walls for anything that could activate a hidden door. I’ll check the floor for levers. It could be a button or something ornamental.”

  Starting next to the bathroom, I scanned clockwise around the room, looking at everything. Light switches. The wall paper . . . Back at Moonhill, some of the mirrors served as secret doorways. The Sons of Ophiuchus might easily have developed similar devices.

  My gaze stopped on one of the paintings over the sideboard. A clipper ship. White sails. Full moon. Six stars, forming an irregular hexagon.

  “Selena,” I said sharply.

  She frowned. “What? I can’t focus with you talking at me.”

  “Does this look like the constellation Ophiuchus?” I pointed to the stars in the painting.

  She dashed over. “Yes! Exactly, though I think the constellation actually has a few more stars.”

  I tugged on the frame. It didn’t come away from the wall. I yanked on one side. Nothing. I yanked on the other side. There was resistance, then a click and the side pulled away from the wall—like a medicine cabinet door opening. Behind it was a hand-size metal panel with a keypad set into it. Three rows of numbers across. Four rows down. The bottom row had symbols on either side of a zero, like a phone.

  “Shit,” I said, glancing back at Dad. “What do we do now?”

  He studied the keypad. “We’re going to have to be careful. With this kind of lock, we’ll only get three tries before it shuts down and sets off an alarm.”

  “That’s not good.” Selena stepped closer. “There has to be a million possible number combinations.”

  I nibbled my bottom lip. “We could try words. On old-fashioned phones there are letters that correspond to each number, right?”

  “Good thinking,” Dad said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be a simple word, something easy to remember. Why don’t you try Sons?”

  My face went hot from embarrassment and I grimaced. “You’ll have to do it. I can’t remember what those kind of phone keypads look like, which letters go with what numbers.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you.” He went on, his voice slow and steady. “7-6-6-7—that will be S-O-N-S.”

  I took a deep breath and punched in the numbers. Nothing happened. Not even an electronic buzz.

  “Try Wrestler,” Selena suggested. “The Sons are guys—and that’s a guy word.”

  Dad said the numbers slowly, allowing me time to press each key before he went on to the next. “9-7-3-7-8-5-3-7.”

  Nothing again.

  I wiped my hand over my head. And though I wasn’t a follower of the Goddess like Kate and Olya were, I mumbled a prayer, “Please, Hecate, Protector of the Gateways, guide my hand.”

  “Serpent,” Dad announced. His voice grew taut as he gave me the first number. “7—”

  I raised my hand to press the key. But just as I was about to punch in the number, my thoughts went back to the painting. The constellation Ophiuchus represented by six stars. An irregular hexagon. The tension in my gut told me I was on to something. But if my hunch was wrong, the keypad would lock down, sending off an alarm. Still, I had to chance it.

  Blocking out Dad’s voice, I pushed 2-4-9-0 in consecutive order. The only keys that formed a lopsided hexagon that resembled the one in the painting.

  The lock hummed.

  I held my breath, excitement jumping inside me as the panel holding the keypad rose. But my joy was short-lived, replaced by despair when I saw what had been revealed.

  “Ohmigod.” Selena gasped. “It’s a retinal scan.”

  “Perfect.” Dad sanded his hands together in glee. “Now, Annie, if you’ll give me room, I’ll do this next step.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  He stashed his gun and took what appeared to be a pudding cup from his pants pocket. “You didn’t expect your grandfather to send us without a few tricks up our sleeves, did you?” He unscrewed the top on the container and pulled out an eyeball. A real eyeball.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Selena said calmly.

  I cringed. “I sure didn’t. How . . . Whose is it?”

  “Jeffrey White’s,” Dad announced, holding the eyeball up to the scanner.

  The wall next to the sideboard began to inch open, but I couldn’t look away from the eyeball. “How did you get—”

  Dad dropped the eye back into the container. “Don’t worry. It’s a reproduction. Pig gelatin granules, an image of our good Jeffrey White’s retina acquired from a friendly—albeit money hungry—ophthalmologist combined with your grandfather’s hocus-pocus. The 3D printer did the rest.”

  “No shit,” I said.

  Applause rose from the floor below. My pulse leapt. It could only mean that the bride and groom had kissed. The ceremony was over.

  I rushed for the still-opening doorway and shimmied through the gap sideways. Dad and Selena followed right behind me. Once we were all through, I glanced around trying to take everything in as fast as possible. The room we were in was dimly lit. A tiny office, narrow and windowless. Bookcases. A treadmill. An antique globe. A mahogany desk. A roll of duct tape, thin knives, gigantic needles and syringes. A pair of handcuffs lay on a metal tray. I went cold all over. That didn’t look good, not at all.

  A muffled cry came from behind us. I whirled around. Lotli was slumped in a large metal chair. Both her wrists were handcuffed to the chair’s arms. Duct tape wrapped her legs and spanned her mouth. Something vomit-yellow stained the front of her peasant blouse, and her purple wrap pants had a rip up the side. She raised her face, her thick dark hair hanging lank.

  Dad took out his gun and handed it to Selena. “Watch the doorway. You know how to shoot, right?”

  She grinned. “It’s a Glock. 9mm. I was weaned on these.”

  While Dad fished a lock-picking kit out of his jacket, I peeled the tape off Lotli’s mouth, trying hard not to yank her lip ring out.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “Get us out of here.”

  Dad went to work on the handcuffs. I snagged a knife from the tray on the desk and started cutting the duct tape off her ankles. I couldn’t help but think of the night I’d found her in the car trunk with tape around her ankles, just like this.

  A minute later, she was free. She wobbled to her feet and swayed.

  I caught her by the elbow. “Are you all right?”

  Slipping free from my grip, she nodded. “We will be fine. But our flute, we need our flute.”

  “Do you know where it is?” Dad asked.

  “Jeffrey White. He put it in his jacket pocket. An hour ago, no longer. He said he was going downstairs.” She clenched her hands and pulled her arms tight against her chest, shuddering. “He is your height, bald.”

  Dad nodded curtly. “I’ve seen him on TV.”

  “We do not like him.” She staggered toward the doorway. When she reached Selena, her knees began to buckle. “Oh, our head. So dizzy.”

  Selena hooked her arm around Lotli’s waist. “It’s not far. We’ll do it together.”

  “Thank you.” Lotli looped both arms around Selena’s neck and leaned against her.

  Selena bit her bottom lip, sagging under Lotli’s weight as they hobbled through the doorway into the boardroom. Actually, Selena looked a bit pale and shaky herself. She wasn’t admitting it, but I couldn’t help wondering if the scryi
ng she’d done in the closet or the closeness of the magic fence was affecting her. She looked like she might barf.

  “Let me have that,” I said, taking the gun from Selena’s hand. I would have offered to help with Lotli, but Lotli was already starting to look better. Once we got across the hallway and outside the fence, they’d probably both be fine.

  Music rose from below us. A fast throb and a muted announcement like a DJ might make. Most likely, cocktail hour had begun.

  I sprinted ahead and slid the keycard I’d taken off the guy into the lock. Once everyone else arrived, I opened the door partway.

  “Wait,” Dad said. “I’m going first. I’ll check the elevators to make sure no one’s coming this way. If there is, I’ll come right back. If you don’t see me in a minute, that means the coast is clear. Head straight across the hallway and to the van as fast as you can. I’m going downstairs to do some pickpocketing.”

  “Dad, you’re—” I waved my hand, indicating his still rain-soaked clothes and hair. “You’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I doubt I’ll be the only one.” He touched Lotli’s chin, bringing her head up. “Don’t you worry either, kiddo. We’ll make them pay for this.”

  She nodded and smiled. But I scowled. I didn’t like the sound of his promise. I didn’t like the sounds of the pickpocketing. Dad was shrewd, but he wasn’t a thief, and I didn’t believe for a second that the wedding guests would be soaking wet. Still, I didn’t protest as he slipped out the door, quietly shutting it behind him. We didn’t have a choice. Jeffrey White had the flute. And without it, Lotli couldn’t open the veil between realms.

  I looked at Selena and Lotli. “Ready to go?”

  Selena glanced at my feet. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  My shoes. Shit. I set off for where I’d tossed them by the bar. I put the gun down and wiggled my feet into the spikes. My eyes went to the closet. We’d tied the men up and gagged them, so it made sense they weren’t making any noise. But I couldn’t help hoping they were okay, especially the guy I’d hit.

  I clenched my teeth. Why was I worrying about him? The guy had attacked Dad. What else could I have done?

  Shoving that thought aside, I jogged back to Selena and Lotli. “Ready?”

  They both nodded. With the gun firmly in hand and them behind me, I slowly pushed the door open—

  And came face-to-face with Newt. Myles stood an arm’s length behind him.

  My mind went blank, my body numb with the shock.

  In his tux and raspberry-pink bow tie, Newt looked even taller, blonder, and yacht-club athletic than usual. Myles still reminded me of a pasty-pale slug. How had they and Dad missed one another? Different elevators. Different staircases. It didn’t matter.

  Myles’s lips curled into a snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Newt gawked at Selena. “Is that you? You look—different. Your hair . . . it’s—”

  Clenching my jaw, I squared my shoulders and raised the gun. My legs quaked with fear and sweat slid down my spine. But I put on my best poker face, praying they wouldn’t see through my false bravado.

  Selena shoved Lotli behind her and stepped up next to me. “My hair? You love it, don’t you?”

  Newt nodded like a marionette, unable to do anything else. “Totally stunning.”

  Myles smacked him in the bicep. “Fuck, Newt. What’s wrong with you? They aren’t here to party.” He nodded sharply at the gun in my hand.

  I took off the safety and leveled it on the two of them. “Get inside,” I said, stepping backward into the boardroom. Selena and Lotli followed my cue and moved back as well.

  Newt and Myles raised their hands and did as I commanded. But, as I locked the door behind them, Newt edged closer to Selena, his voice cooing. “Sweetheart, don’t let her do this.” He jutted his chin to where Lotli had slumped onto a bar stool. “You need to stay away from her. She’s dangerous.”

  Selena glared at him. “Screw you, Newt Harrison—if that’s even really your name. Now move it.” She pointed toward the secret room and doorway we’d left open. It was exactly where I’d thought of taking them as well.

  Newt lowered his arms, holding them out as if to say he meant no harm. “Selena, trust me. I only want what’s best for you.” His voice deepened into a low threat. “I don’t want to hurt you or your friends. But if I have to—”

  I elbowed Selena. “Why don’t you take the gun? You’re a better shot than I am.”

  Newt paled and Myles’s arms shot up higher. Clearly, they were familiar with her weapon prowess. Luckily, they hadn’t known my lack of experience.

  “Wait here,” I said, glancing back at Lotli. She’d slouched over the bar, head buried in her folded arms. We needed to get her to the van, and fast.

  Selena, on the other hand, appeared to have recovered her strength and was totally focused. It was as if the anger in her system had nullified the fence’s magic or whatever had been getting to her before. She was now the ultimate pixie-haired Bond girl, gun ready, muscles flexed, and every movement confident as we herded Newt and Myles into the secret room.

  She made Myles handcuff Newt to the chair. Then I handcuffed Myles to the treadmill.

  I stepped back and grinned. “It was nice of the Sons to provide such a well-equipped holding cell. I especially like the accessories. They look exquisitely sharp.” I tilted my head toward the needles and knives on the desk. Not that I planned on doing anything, but after everything Newt and Myles had done they deserved at least a moment of mental torture.

  Myles pulled against the handcuffs, steel rattling. “You bitches are going to regret this.”

  “Shut up, Myles,” Newt said. His gaze went to Selena, his voice syrupy. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, darling. But you need to let us go right now, sweetheart baby.”

  I pivoted toward Selena. “Do you mind getting me the duct tape? This room might be soundproof, but I’m sick of listening to them.”

  Ignoring me, Selena shoved the gun into her waistband and whipped out a pocket-size bottle of pepper spray from her jacket. She strode right up to Newt, her expression transforming into a mask of dark amusement. “This is going to be fun, sweetheart baby.”

  His mouth fell open. “What are you doing? I love you.”

  “Not for long.” She sprayed him directly in the eyes.

  He screamed in agony, squirming against his bonds. His eyes slammed shut, tears weeping from between his lashes. Blood trickled from his nose. He gasped, made a gurgling noise, and then his head flopped forward as though he’d blacked out.

  A whiff of the spray drifted my way, not caustic like pepper spray. The scent of violets. In a flash, memories flooded back to me: fifteen years ago, Kate’s fingers on my face, massaging oil onto my eyelids. And only a few weeks ago, me doing the same thing to Culus, the genie who’d possessed Dad. Violet-scented oil intended to wipe out memories. But Selena’s spray contained more than just violet oil, a hint of something sweeter.

  Selena closed her eyes and raised her hand. “Queen Bee, take these memories, take me from his eyes,” she chanted. “Petals to lids. Petals to eyes—”

  “What—what are you doing?” Myles’s voice quaked. “Stop it.”

  Selena opened her eyes and knifed him with an evil pixie grin. “Don’t tell me you aren’t a fan of A Midsummer Night’s Dream? It’s my favorite.”

  He scuffed backward against the treadmill as far as the handcuffs allowed. “You’re crazy. Both of you are crazy!”

  My breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t that sure he was wrong.

  “Watch and learn.” Selena flipped her compact open. Holding it out, she grasped Newt’s hair and yanked his limp head up, face-to-face with the mirror. “What thou see when you awake.”

  I gasped. Selena was reciting from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Fairy magic. Flower petals. Eyelids. Titania falling in love with the donkey. I knew what she was up to. She was going to free herself
from the curse by transferring Newt’s love onto someone else. Oh my God. The mirror. She intended on making him fall hopelessly in love with himself.

  Her voice lifted. “What you see when you wake, do it for your true love take.” She let go of his hair. His head flopped back down and then raised slowly, his gaze inching upward toward the mirror.

  “No!” Myles shrieked.

  Newt’s head stopped traveling upward and swiveled toward his brother. His lips parted. His eyes glistened. “Myles?” he said, sugar-sweet.

  CHAPTER 12

  At the molecular level, a solid body and smokeless fire are more similar than one might imagine.

  —Hector Freemont

  We weren’t even a mile down the road when Selena spilled the full truth to Dad about what had happened to Newt. It wasn’t like she had a choice about telling this time. After all, Dad had returned from successfully swiping the flute in time to see Newt ogling Myles and get the gist of what had transpired. Plus, testing the truth out on him was a good way to prepare for the reaction we’d get at home.

  Stone-faced, Dad took his gaze off the road and glanced in the rearview at Selena. “His brother? You tried to transfer the curse and Newt looked at his brother?”

  “I feel really bad about it,” she said with the conviction of a wet sponge. “I mean, Newt did always love himself a lot. That would have been perfect. Of course, the best thing would have been to remove the curse entirely—which I couldn’t do. Seriously, I swear, I’ll never do another irreversible curse again, never ever.”

  The corners of Dad’s mouth twitched, his serious expression weakening. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer and he burst out laughing. “I can’t begin to imagine. In love with his brother?” He stepped on the gas, the rental van growling its way through the wispy fog. “One thing’s sure, it’s going to take the Sons a while to get that mess straightened out.”

  We were all laughing now, as much out of relief as anything else. It went without saying that we were lucky to have escaped. And equally lucky that Lotli appeared to be mostly dehydrated and exhausted, not tortured or subjected to mind-altering drugs in an attempt to get her to spill secrets.