Symes screamed as she started down the shadowpaths. His hands clutched at her arms, and he wailed and moaned like the damned on the pathway to hell itself.
It was only seconds for Indigo, but for Symes it might as well have been an eternity. Tears fell from his eyes and his body shivered as if wracked with arctic cold.
“They’re going to fix you up, Symes. They’re going to mend you. When you’re taken care of, go find Sam Loh. He can explain everything.”
Symes had saved her life. She had saved his. Now she had to hope that she’d made the right choice. He knew her secret, that Nora was Indigo. If he betrayed her, she was as good as dead. But if he was with her, if he chose to help with her crusade, she had gone from being alone to having a team to back her.
No time. None at all. She had to find Shelby. She had to know what was going on with her best friend. Indigo would have answers, no matter the cost.
12
If Nora didn’t get some real sleep and a real meal soon, she’d end up in the morgue. Ever since she’d met Rafe Bogdani at the vigil for the Ortiz girl, the fights and the revelations had been coming in a never-ending stream, and it was all catching up to her.
On her way to her apartment, she spared a moment to imagine how Hugh Symes was going to explain his arrival at the hospital within seconds after he’d shot his partner. She couldn’t think of anything he could say that would sound halfway sane, but she figured Symes would rather be alive to answer questions than eviscerated by Mayhew.
Nora worried about her own vulnerability. Sam had been the only witness to Symes and Mayhew’s asking her to come down to the precinct with them, but some of the hospital staff might have noticed her departure with the two detectives. Maybe someone had seen her getting into the backseat of their unmarked car. She’d have to have a story ready, if—when—other detectives came calling. But she didn’t feel capable of making up a credible account at the moment. Indigo had other things on her to-do list, and they all seemed more urgent.
Sam had told her Shelby Coughlin didn’t exist … at least not under that name. Maybe “Shelby” knew who’d created the trust fund that paid her bills. Nora smiled. It would have been nice if this trust fund in her name had paid her own bills.
But at that thought, a bell began chiming in Nora’s head. Hadn’t that been what Uncle Theo had discussed with her? At her parents’ funeral?
Trying to remember, she bought a cup of coffee and a pastry at the counter of a neighborhood coffeehouse and sat down at one of the tiny tables. As she ate the pastry absently, she poked at the memory, trying to recover more of the conversation. Her eyes closed, and she concentrated. The day of her parents’ funeral had been gray; Nora found she was now sure of that. She remembered wearing a coat, so it had been cold, but no snow was on the ground. Most of all, she remembered her overwhelmingly bleak mood, but of course she had been grieving. Hadn’t she?
Now that she understood her parents’ assassination in the alley had been a fiction, real images were beginning to seep in.
“You’ll never run out of money,” Uncle Theo said. “Matt and Stella were insured, and they had some savings. Your folks left enough to make your life comfortable. Of course, you’ll need to work, Nora. But maybe you can pick the job you want most, rather than the job that pays the most.”
Nora could see Theo’s face clearly now, but she still didn’t know where he’d come from or where he’d gone after the funeral. Why hadn’t she ever seen her uncle again? She had become an investigative reporter. Why hadn’t she used her skills to track him down? Theo Hesper was not a common name … assuming he had been her father’s brother.
So the trust fund might be a reality. Nora had never placed a high priority on making every dime she could, but it would have been pleasant to enjoy a few things she’d wanted: a new laptop, maybe an apartment with more than one room. Instead, apparently, she’d rented an apartment for Shelby. And paid her utilities.
Nora made herself finish the pastry and the coffee, but inside she was panicking. Before she left the table, she looked down at her hands on the plastic table. She took a deep breath. Are you there?
I’m always here, my host, the sneering voice replied.
How long have we been … merged? Nora didn’t know how else to put it.
Since your parents died. You don’t remember yet?
Not exactly. Nora shuddered. Something about chatting with yourself was fundamentally wrong. Or whatever the voice was.
The thing inside Nora laughed. You saved me, though you didn’t intend to. In return, I saved you. I gave you strength and courage when you needed it the most.
Courage? Nora couldn’t understand why she’d needed courage.
Maybe “survival skills” is more accurate.
So much for the monks in Nepal. How could she not have seen the absurdity of that scenario?
“Miss, are you all right?” The voice was not the horrifying one inside her, but that of the young waiter from the counter where she’d paid for her coffee and the pastry. Now he was standing anxiously by her table, studying her with concern.
Nora emerged from her reverie with some bewilderment. Quite a few faces were turned to her, and they were all curious or frightened. She wondered what she’d been doing to cause such apprehension. She had to get out of there.
“So sorry.” Nora forced a smile on her face. “I sat up with a friend at the hospital last night.” She stood hastily, gathered her bag, and nodded to the waiter.
It was time to confront Shelby.
Nora was so unsettled that she didn’t want to use the shadows to travel. Walking like other humans would be fine.
*
Fifteen minutes later, Nora was knocking on the familiar door. She’d delayed this confrontation by stopping at her own apartment to feed and water the Assholes, who had ventured out of their hiding places when they’d decided she was Nora, not Indigo. She was going to have the most messed-up cats in New York, which was saying something. Then Nora had taken five more minutes to change their litter box. It seemed like the least she could do.
She did not feel in any way ready for this conversation, but she had to have it. When the door opened, Nora jumped.
“Hey.” Shelby sagged against the doorframe, her red-gold hair in a tangled mass. Nora had never seen Shelby so disheveled. “That was crazy, huh? How’s your friend Sam?” Shelby stood aside and gestured Nora into the apartment.
To Nora’s eyes, Shelby looked exactly the same. Her apartment was the familiar, charming blend of attractive odds and ends. But when Nora stepped through the door, she slipped into Indigo and looked again. The view through Indigo’s eyes staggered her. She stared at Shelby, shaking her head, and took a step back.
“What are you?” Indigo snarled.
Shelby looked shadowy now—almost translucent—and the rosy-pink love seat behind her flickered in and out of Indigo’s sight, as if it both existed and did not.