Greywalker - Kat Richardson [133]
I called Mara and told her about my meeting with Edward and what I needed from her now. She said she’d have to discuss it with Ben. Dragging my feet, I gathered up my stuff and hauled myself to the office.
I paged Quinton between bouts of uninteresting paperwork and frustrating phone calls. He strolled in a little after noon and glanced at the boarded-over windows. “What happened? Somebody try to break in again?”
“Rough client.”
“Not your guy with the Camaro.”
“No, the one who doesn’t show up on video.”
He growled, looking me over. “He roughed you up?”
“I fell on some stairs.”
He shot a queer glance at me.
“It’s the truth. Look, Quinton, I have a problem a lot worse than a tumble on the steps.”
“What do you need?”
“I need to get past a security system so I can break something.”
He blinked a few times. “Umm . . . that’s often illegal.”
“Yeah. But I can’t come up with another option. If it doesn’t get done—I just have to.”
He frowned at the desperation in my voice. “Must be something pretty bad. Why do you need to do this?”
I shook my head at myself. “It’s nuts.”
“What can be weirder than putting an alarm in a car trunk for a vampire?”
“How ’bout exorcising a ghost and defusing a paranormal time bomb?”
He rocked on his heels and nodded. “OK. That’s weirder. How did you get mixed up in that? Your client?”
“The guy who broke my windows. He’s a ghost. I didn’t know it when I took the job.”
Quinton sat down and waited for the rest.
I sighed. “He hired me to find a piece of furniture. I found it, but couldn’t get it for him. He got rough and I figured out what he was. I didn’t want to keep working for him. He made it clear he would do whatever it took to get what he wanted and if I stood in his way, he’d go through me. I can’t run from him—he’s a ghost—and I can’t imagine what he’s capable of. I figured the only way to get rid of him was to find out why he really wanted the thing. Now I know. And it’s terrible. There is no option but to stop him.”
I closed my eyes a moment, tired, but relieved to have gotten it all out. I wondered if Quinton thought I was crazy yet.
He mulled it for a moment. “Why does this job fall on you? Why do you have to stop it?”
I played with a pencil and didn’t look at him. “I’m afraid that this thing will hurt me, too. I’m a little bit ghost or monster myself, connected to all of this stuff. Horrible things have happened, and I’m just too much a coward to let this happen, too. This is the only thing I can think of to stop it.”
Quinton was quiet. I continued playing with the pencil and breathing around the stone in my chest.
Finally he asked, “So what building are we breaking into? Give me all the information you’ve got and I’ll hunt down the rest. By the way, when are we doing this?”
I glanced up. “Tonight.”
“Tonight? Oh, boy . . . Miracles ‘R’ Us. I assume that we’re not going to go and ask permission for this.”
“I already offered to buy the thing—the museum won’t sell. That’s what made my client so angry. If I could think of another way, I’d do it.”
“All right,” he sighed. “Let’s get to it.”
I sketched out the plan and gave him everything I knew about Madison Forrest House security. Quinton soaked it up without taking notes.
“OK. I’m going to the library. I’ll call you when I’ve got it figured out.”
I thanked him, but he was already heading out the door.
Mara called later in the afternoon. With an edge in her voice she told me she would do it, but needed a lift to the museum. She didn’t give me time to ask any questions.
At six, Quinton called.
“I got it. I can do it. I’ll see you there a little after sunset, OK?”
“OK,” I agreed.
I drove up to Queen Anne to get Mara. The house did not look quite as inviting as normal, the color of the light in the windows an unpleasant green. Albert met me on the walk again. I limped to the door, alarm racing my heart.
Mara answered my knock. Her face was pinched.
“Come in,” she clipped out.