“I have a gun just inside the doorway. Please give me a reason to use it.”
“Why did you want me to write an article exposing Adam and Talia? What are they really doing here? Why are they messing with me?”
Zoe leaned inside her apartment and came back with a Glock. “Found it outside last week.”
Layla startled, then put two and two together. “That’s my gun.”
Zoe smiled. “Finders keep—”
And the gun went crack!
Khan was already dissolving into Shadow when Talia begged, voice urgent, “Find her. Please, don’t let her go.”
It was easy to locate Layla; no soul fire glowed so bright, so sure. She stood inside the living room of another mortal woman, laughing, “How about I show you how to handle a gun, eh?”
Fate had made yet another attempt on her life, but Layla still lived, and she was unharmed.
The woman next to her was young and hale, but her spirit was broken, curious faint trails of Shadow in the air around her. She was wan with exhaustion. And he knew why. In the next room, her kin, a sister, lay propped on a bed. The woman bore an awesome gift, rare to humankind. In ancient times they would have called her an oracle or a prophet and set her up like a queen. Mortal blood and Shadow commingled within her veins, and thus she aged rapidly toward the brink. She would have crossed into Shadow already if not for the devoted hold of her sister, who would not let her go. And so love once again trumped death.
“It’s not a crime to want to protect myself,” the woman said to Layla. Her expression was rude, her emotion sick with old fear. “Wraiths keep coming, but Adam won’t let me have a gun.”
“You hold on to it for now; just be careful. There’s no standard safety on it, just that little lever on the trigger, so don’t rest your finger there unless you mean it.” Layla, whose anger had abated, held the gun out. “Go on, Zoe, take it.”
“Fine.” The girl named Zoe grabbed the gun. “I have to have something.” What went unsaid but Khan understood was that she had to have something . . . for her sister. “The world’s gone fucking nuts.”
“You’re telling me,” Layla said.
“Oh, give it a rest,” Zoe sneered. “My sister’s told me about you. I know you’re in thick with them and I know why.”
“Care to share? Because frankly I’m at a loss.”
“It’s really not my problem.”
Layla turned back to the door, frustration near bursting within her. “Right. Not your problem. Happy times with the gun.”
“Wait,” Zoe said with a long-suffering eye roll. Khan wondered why everything about the girl was at odds: her body was young, but her soul was old; she expressed one thing, but felt another; she said she hated Segue, but she clung to its security. If she weren’t standing there in mortal flesh, he’d think she was fae. “What did June and Ward Cleaver do to get you all worked up? Must’ve been good, whatever they told you.”
Layla faced her. “Basically that I’m related to them. I just need to know if they’re screwing with my head. Because if what they say is true . . .”
“It’s true.”
“But . . .”
“It’s true.”
“Why should I believe you?” Layla’s frustration gave way to acute anxiety, but Khan didn’t put a stop to the conversation. If he couldn’t convince Layla, perhaps this contrary woman could. “Maybe you’re in on it,” Layla continued.
Zoe’s eyebrows went up. She put a hand to the bedroom door, pushed it open. “Because I didn’t actually mean to shoot at you, I’ll help you out. Then we’re even.”
Layla looked inside. The ailing sister lay slack on the bed. She was aged beyond her youth, hair thin and colorless, wrinkled skin hanging loose and dry on her bones. Her lips were cracked, Shadow filmy on the whites of her eyes. But Khan knew Layla could see deeper than an illness of the flesh. For Layla, the veil was as thin as a membrane, and just as transparent. She looked on an oracle for the ages. Layla would see the trees of Twilight looming darkly at the woman’s back. She’d see how Shadow breached the matter of the oracle’s body, impregnating the pitiable mortal with its capricious and jealous churn.
“That’s my sister,” Zoe said. “She basically knows everything about everyone, which is why she’s so sick. Add Adam and Talia’s fucked-up business and she’s ready to die.”
Layla was silent, her breath stopping as she looked on. Wonder and horror and sadness flooded out of her and into Shadow, and Khan knew she was ready to believe.
Finally.
“I’m so sorry for bothering you,” Layla said to the oracle, stepping back.
The oracle’s eyes cracked open. “You’ve finally come,” she rasped. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Me? Why me?”
“You started all this. You and your fae lord.”
Khan caught the rheumy shift of the oracle’s gaze as it flicked up at the ceiling of the room, where he watched.
“You mean Khan?”
The oracle grinned. “Khan.”