She sighed and turned away, leaving the door open as an invitation to follow. I trailed after her, down the hall and into the sunshine-bright kitchen, where the large back windows allowed her to watch over the children in the yard.
I counted four. The small number, and lack of a baby carriage, lightened my spirits. The last time I'd been here the place had been bursting with kids I'd failed to save, as well as a tiny bundle that wouldn't stop crying.
That was a memory I'd do just about anything to erase from my brain.
"Sit," Ruthie ordered. "We've got a situation here."
"Me being dead is going to throw a bit of a crimp in our plans. This is gonna start the Doomsday clock ticking all over again."
"You aren't dead," she said.
"The woman of smoke—" I paused, then sat. "You know about her?"
Ruthie gave me one of her patented stares. Ruthie knew about everything, even before she'd become ...
I wasn't certain what she'd become, but she was definitely more powerful dead than alive. Having her killed had been the Strega's first mistake.
"She stabbed me with my own knife." I made a sound of disgust. How lame was that? "Twice in the chest."
I glanced down, thrilled to discover that the weapon wasn't sticking out of me so that I resembled a shish kebab. My broken wrist appeared to work just fine, as well. I flapped it a few times just to be sure.
Of course no one came here with the wounds they'd died from; that would be too upsetting to the kids, not to mention gross.
"You aren't dead," Ruthie repeated.
"But—"
"Twice in the same way kills a dhampir."
"Right. I—" I stopped, not wanting to say out loud what I'd done to get that talent.
But Ruthie knew. Not talking about my strange gifts didn't make those strange gifts cease to exist.
"We do what we have to do to survive, to fight, to win," she said. "You wouldn't have the power of empathy if you weren't meant to use it, child."
Same thing Summer had said. Huh.
"It's because of that empathy you're still alive." At my blank expression, she continued, "You're more than a dhampir, Lizbeth. You're a skinwalker, too."
I lifted a brow. "How do you kill those?"
She lifted her own brow in return. "I'll just keep that to myself."
"But—"
"I know 'bout your temper when it comes to Sawyer. If you'd known how to kill him, you'd have done it already—ten times."
True. No one annoyed me more than Sawyer; no one frightened me more than him, either—unless it was his mother.
"We need him," Ruthie said. "You need him."
As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. Still—
"How can I avoid getting my skinwalker nature snuffed out if I don't know how that can happen?"
"It won't. Skinwalkers are some of the hardest beings to kill on God's earth. You think Sawyer would still be breathin' otherwise?"
I wasn't the only one who wanted him dead. Sometimes I wondered if there was anyone who actually wanted him alive. Except for Ruthie.
"I still don't like it," I muttered.
"I still don't care."
"Is it true what Summer told me?" I asked. "Doomsday's on hold?"
"Appears to be. The demons are still killing, but—" She spread her gnarled hands. "Not like they used to."
"So we've got some time to regroup."
"I don't know," Ruthie murmured. "I can still feel the evil on the air like an approaching tornado. That buzzing stillness, which always comes right before the skies turn green and the whirlwind starts."
Hell. That sounded exactly like what I'd felt in Barn-aby's Gap.
"It's strange," she continued. "Almost like nothing's changed. Like Doomsday's still brewin'." She shook her head as if she were shaking off the thoughts. "I'm just an old woman who's seen too much. Can't stop smelling trouble even when it isn't here."
"Oh, trouble's here. It's called a Naye'i."
"They'll have to go back to square one." Ruthie put her hand over mine where it lay on the table. "They have to kill you."
"The woman of smoke thinks she did. She'll believe she's the new leader. What will happen when she finds out she isn't?"
"Hopefully she'll die from the disappointment," Ruthie muttered, "but I wouldn't count on it."
"You have no idea how to end that—" I broke off before I said something I shouldn't. "Thing," I finished.
"'Fraid not. She's much more than she started as. Evil spirit became witch became Satan only knows what."
"Terrific." I glanced out the window, absently counted children, came up with five this time. They must be playing hide-and-seek.
"Where have you been?" I asked. "Not a word from you since I left Manhattan. I was starting to think I'd lost the magic."
"The amulet," Ruthie said. "It blocked me. From seein' them, from talkin' to you. Messed with my radar." She tapped her head. "I still feel fuzzy. Might have a hard time now and again gettin' through."
"That can't be good."
"You'll be all right. Sawyer's here. He'll help."
"You're sure about that? Sawyer's always seemed to be on the 'help himself and screw the world' plan."
Ruthie's lips curved. "Sawyer likes the world as is. He'll help." She sobered. "You're gonna have to destroy that amulet."