Her face contracted in a grimace. “So the wolf is a ghost?”
“No. Don’t get ahead of me.” Custo reconsidered his approach. “The Shadowlands is a place of possibility, of imagination, of inspiration. Yes, people pass through there briefly upon death; Talia is part of that, with her banshee voice, able to manipulate Shadow and force others to cross, like the wolf. But the nature of the Shadowlands is much more than that. Humanity accesses it during daily life for inspiration and insight. It is the source of magic, a well for talent to draw from, like yours.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She shook her head, denying everything that he was saying.
“Yes, you do. You of all people know,” Custo said. Her chin came up, but he continued, “The first time I saw you was in the Shadowlands. You were dancing, bright and beautiful, all magic.”
“I’m not magic.”
“Your talent is a kind of magic.”
She frowned, the sharpness of her gaze losing its edge as her thoughts turned inward.
“Why do you dance? How does it make you feel? What are you able to do that others cannot?”
The moment stretched. He tried to read her, but her mind was moving too fast, darting from one conclusion to another, her intellect traveling over the events and explanations, but never stopping in one place to realize it entirely. At last, she took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking her head. “So you’re saying my dance puts me in both places. That I was, in fact, in his territory.” Does that mean I can’t dance?
Custo reached for her arm, but she pulled it out of his grasp, leaving his own extended, palm raised and empty. “Annabella…”
But she took a step back. “First the wolf, and now you. Where do you get off touching me? Getting all familiar? I don’t know you from Adam. Not really. You offered me a safe place to sleep and so far—”
He had to interrupt her before she made a drastic decision. “This is still the safest place for you.”
“Way I see it, nowhere is safe anymore,” she said, voice rising. “I can’t even dance.”
“Of course you can. But now you know that you need to master the magic as you would any other movement. Now you know why the greats were the greats, and that you can be, too.”
She put her hands over her ears and gripped her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” I can’t.
Custo swallowed back everything he wanted to say. The words burned in his throat just as his arms burned to hold her. He held his hands up in surrender. No more tonight.
She dropped her arms. “Now is there a frickin’ bed in this place for me or not?”
He tried not to smile at her tone. “Yes. Adam has let us have his apartment while he’s with Talia.” Obviously, Custo would be sleeping on the floor his first night back.
He signaled the door to open and glanced out. The guards were in place. Everything still. No wolves waiting. He’d have liked to put his arm around her—they’d fit so well before—but he resisted the impulse. Annabella came up beside him, also peeking out into the tunnel. Her lips pressed together, probably summoning her courage, and then she stepped outside the lab.
“Elevator?” Custo asked the guards.
The guards led the way and would be stationed outside Adam’s place for the night.
As they neared a conventional pair of silver sliding doors, Custo felt a hand on his elbow.
“Wait,” Annabella asked, expression again filled with confusion, “what were you doing in the Shadowlands?”
Considering her last request, Custo went with the truth. “I was crossing them, heading back to Earth.”
She stopped midstep before boarding the elevator, frowning while she tried to figure out what he’d said. He wasn’t about to offer an extended explanation, not after she’d plainly said she didn’t want to hear it.
“The Hereafter?” she asked.
Custo nodded, pulling her inside. “Heaven. I’m your guardian angel.”
Chapter Seven
ANNABELLA ran, a pack of wolves snarling and snapping at her heels. Her mind’s eye saw them clearly, though she didn’t dare look back: bristling black fur, yellow eyes, sharp white teeth too long and jagged for any mouth—wolf or otherwise. Her heartbeat and footfalls combined to form a gallop of sound, the rhythm of the chase.
Somebody help me! she sobbed through gasping chokes of air.
But the forest was silent. She sprinted through widely spaced trees—no place to hide—their great trunks rising like columns to hold up the nonexistent sky. Where was the sky?
She pushed her body harder, faster, channeling all her fear and strength into her stride. She felt the distance between her and the wolves lengthen. Felt their interest suddenly shift, the pack swarming on a rise, ears pricked.
Saved?