Chapter Eleven

Lydia

I told Angelo almost everything I knew about Indigo, which wasn't much.

For people fused at the soul, we didn't know each other very well. And that wasn't super surprising, considering it was easier to draw blood from a stone than it was to pry details from the reluctant witch. She remained silent during the explanation, stewing petulantly at the back of my mind. She wanted to clout me over the head for sharing her secrets, but there wasn't much she could do to stop me.

"And that's all I know," I said a few minutes later. We'd kept up a brisk walk, traversing the areas open to the public. Anyone who happened to hear a snippet of our conversation would probably have assumed I was talking about a convoluted fantasy novel, not my real life.

Angelo's eyes narrowed. "No, that's not all you know."

"Are you calling me a liar?" I asked, and fought to keep the guilt off my face. Because I was a liar. A dirty, dirty liar who was keeping a huge secret from him and from everyone else, with the exception of Marty.

"Yes," Angelo said simply. "You've been lying for a long time and I haven't called you on it."

"What makes you think I've been lying?"

"I'm a demon and I grew up around other demons and if there's one thing demons do and do constantly, it's not tell the truth." He looked at me and cocked a severe brow. "I recognize the signs of a lie when I see them."

"How long have you known?"

"From the moment we met."

Great, just great.

He looked down at me and frowned. "I was trying to let you have your privacy, Lydia, but I can't do that any longer. Now that one of my co-workers and friend was nearly killed, you need to tell me the rest of your story. All of it."

I stopped shy of the emergency department turnoff and veered off to feed a few dollar bills into a vending machine. I tended to snack when I was nervous or upset. This vending machine didn't carry the brand of jelly beans I liked, so I made do with mini Oreos, trying to ignore the stare I could feel boring a hole into the back of my head.

"I don't know anything about Ivan and Florence," I said at last, offering him a cookie.

For once, he didn't take advantage of the opportunity to be inappropriate. He didn't try to get me to feed him the Oreo or offer to share it Lady and the Tramp style. That, more than anything, told me how seriously he was taking this whole lying thing. He folded his arms over his unfairly yummy chest and continued to glare at me.

"Lydia, tell me."

"I don't have anything to tell you," I answered on a shrug. "Indigo's magic and memories are spotty at best. She might know about the thing that attacked them or she might not."

"So, you think it's just a coincidence that mundane doppelgangers of her nieces came to the Hollow shortly before the attack occurred?"

"I don't know what to think about that."

"You said Indigo is a felon. Her nieces could be following in her footsteps."

"But why attack Ivan or the deputy? And why kidnap Florence?"

Angelo shrugged. "Ivan's one of the physically strongest monsters in this Hollow."

"So?"

"So, if they can wound him that badly, it sends a message."

I paused. Oh, so that was why he was angry. I hadn't mentioned Indigo's nieces to him—no, the first he'd heard of them was when I mentioned them to Taliyah just now. And Angelo also knew that Marty knew about the two women. I hadn't thought to talk to Angelo about them at all, but I'd told Marty, and I was sure that had to sting. Right—this was probably a case of jealousy all bound up with anger and Angelo was looking for a target. So, he hadn't somehow figured out that Indie was still kicking and within me.

"Estelle and Lavinia aren't involved with anything malicious or dark, Angelo." Silently I added, Are they?

No, Indie said, and her mental voice sounded weary. I didn't let the girls know what was going on with Murrain or what I was up to. I was sure they'd be angry or ashamed of me. What was more, I thought I was keeping it from them for their own good.

How's that?

I figured if they knew the truth, it would have just made them easier targets for the Masked Lords.

Masked Lords? I repeated, pouncing on this new tidbit with the enthusiasm of a hungry cat. Who or what are the Masked Lords?

Indie curled up in her corner and said no more. She was stewing, furious she'd let this information slip. Knowing her, the tipoff was probably obscure and nothing I could follow up on, but it was more than I'd had a few seconds ago.

"How can you be sure?" Angelo asked, pulling my attention back to him and our conversation.

"I can't be totally sure, but I know that Indie loved her nieces. She practically raised them, from what I can tell. So, I don't believe she'd willingly put them in that kind of danger. If the girls I saw really were Estelle and Lavinia, I think something odd is going on with them."

"As regards the fact that they have no magic?"

I nodded. "But I don't think they're here as spies or something. From what I can tell, they don't know who or what they are or were. It's almost like their memories were wiped or something."

"They could be acting."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Yes, they could be, but I don't know why they would. I don't know the whole story and I'm in no mood to make guesses that could be totally wrong. I'm tired, I'm upset, and my shop isn't going to open on time." I looked up at him and frowned. "So, do you want to keep pushing this? Because, at this rate, I'm going to have another panic attack and this time, I'll consider it your fault and ask you to eat sprouts again."

Angelo looked a little bit sick just thinking about me having another panic attack, and I had to remind myself that he'd done me a big favor by taking the anxiety away. The fear had threatened to swallow my sanity whole, and he'd taken enough of it to keep me from losing my wits. The memories were still there, sure, but they didn't hold the same kind of horror now. I knew I'd see them all again. Susan's death. The gore, agony, and sacrifice, and the horrible truth about Indie. It would be hard to watch, but I could do so as an observer now, not as Indigo.

"I'm sorry," I said after a moment. "That was harsh."

"No, it's fine."

I started walking again. There should have been an exit in the ER. We could slip out and go back to Haven Hollow. I might stand a chance of opening the shop before noon if we left now. People glanced up at us as we passed and just as quickly looked away. I crossed my arms as we walked back into the lobby and I noticed how it was mostly empty this early. There were one or two people who needed stitches, a kid with a broken arm, someone with a bleeding nose, all par for the course.

"Really, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you," I said, offering him an olive branch.

"How?"

I shrugged. "What would you like, other than sex? I'm not willing to go that far."

Angelo made a thoughtful "hmm," and stared at the carpet, totally entranced by the stain-concealing pattern of circles and stripes. He nodded a little.

"A date," he said finally as he looked at me again. "Dinner and a movie."

His request surprised me, but I nodded. "Okay."

He looked a little more chipper after that. If only more men were this uncomplicated. I knew what Angelo wanted from me—what he'd wanted from the moment we'd met. Sex. He hadn't been shy about it. And the truth was that the idea thrilled me. I knew sex with him would be like nothing I'd ever experienced before. But it was more than that—somehow he'd also become my friend and he'd actually brought fun back into my life. And I missed fun. Rodney had been a millstone around my neck for years. Even before the divorce, he'd been temperamental and quick to lash out. Our arguments had never been physical, but the man certainly knew how to deliver a soul-crushing monologue if he felt the situation called for it. And in our marriage, it had called for it more often than not.

The doors that led into the ER proper opened and a couple strolled out. The girl was a knockout in a royal blue sweater and skinny jeans. Both were splattered with little flecks of blood. The man she clung to had his arm in a sling and a large hand bandaged.

Indie surged to the fore with so much intensity that it made me stagger. A wave of dizziness crashed over me and I had to lean into Angelo to keep from falling on my face. There was a second where my body didn't feel like my own. I swore I could feel her in my fingers, my toes, and in the sick, churning pit of my stomach.

Essie!

My mouth actually formed the word without my permission. Then things snapped back into normalcy. I swayed once more. The receptionist was giving me a disdainful look, probably assuming I was drunk. I ignored her, focusing on the exchange between the pair.

"You have to be more careful, Corny! That cut was bad! You could have died! Not to mention, you ruined my sweater!"

The man laughed, and the sound raised the hairs on my neck. It wasn't overtly menacing, but there was a dissonance to it that was just wrong. The Spidey sense that let me know when someone was suffering was going off. No, that wasn't quite right. I sensed suffering, just not his suffering. Hers. She was suffering but, strangely, it was like she couldn't tell she was. The panic was buried under a layer of candy-coated happiness that made my teeth ache. That couldn't be right. How could she be panicking but not even know it?

"I'm glad I rank between your makeup and your sweater, dear," Corny said with another hearty laugh.

Essie's lip jutted in a pout. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

The man swooped in and pressed a kiss to her pouting mouth. He was good-looking—overlong blonde hair, baby blues you could drown in, and the physique of a high school quarterback. Essie went up on tiptoe to prolong the kiss, but he pushed her back down with his one good arm.

"Soon," he said in a stage whisper. "When I can use both my hands."

"Promise?" she simpered. "You said we'd make it official, Corny. You said you were going to make it a night I'd never forget. And instead, you fumble the cutlery and bleed all over me."

"I'll do it better next time," he promised with a grin.

Something in the smile unnerved me, but I didn't have the chance to figure out what. By the time I could get my brain into gear, they were on their way out. I lunged, brushing Essie's arm on the way to the door, and it only earned me an odd look and dismissive shrug from the pair. Indie's panic roared through me like a riptide.

Calm down, I said. Tell me what's wrong.

They took it, Indie said in a strangled voice.

They took what?

They took her magic away. I don't know how they did it without killing her, but they somehow managed. They bespelled her, too. That has to be what this is. She wouldn't infantilize herself for anyone, let alone a man. Someone turned her into a... an insipid, vapid… idiot of a woman! They need to pay for that!

I wasn't sure what Indigo was more disgusted by—the fact that someone had targeted her niece or that they'd turned her niece into a teenage stereotype.

I took another step forward, trying to collect myself enough to go after them. I didn't want to lose them this time. Indigo would never forgive me if they slipped through our fingers for good.

"What are you doing?" Angelo asked.

"I need to..." I began.

But then somebody screamed. Everyone in the lobby turned towards the noise. I didn't stop to think. I was in motion before Angelo could stop me. For once, Indie and I agreed on something.

If a monster was attacking Estelle, we were going to stop it.