Greywalker - Kat Richardson [78]
“Cameron wanted to discuss it with you himself.” I was biting my tongue pretty hard as my temper rose. Sarah’s view of her mother snapped into focus.
“I paid for this investigation. You have a contractual obligation to tell me.”
The temperature of my voice hovered near freezing. “No, Colleen. The contract gives me discretion on matters not directly bearing on the job, and I’m exercising that clause. You paid for me to find your son, not to spy on him. If he doesn’t call you within twenty-four hours, then I’ll be glad to discuss whatever you want. But your son asked for some time to straighten out a few things and I’m giving him that courtesy.”
“Will I be billed for this ‘courtesy’?”
“No.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I hear from Cameron. Or not.” She cracked the phone into the cradle as she hung up.
I slithered out of my sweats and running shoes and flopped back into bed. I felt like a Chihuahua in a wind tunnel. Flat on my back, eyes closed . . . I was more tired than I should have been, but the constant wearing nausea was gone. I couldn’t see the Grey. I was aware of it, but it wasn’t immediate. Without the flickering, the treacherous false ground, the heaving, unstill world on top of the world, only fatigue remained. It was the Grey that left me queasy and worn, the uneven, sporadic view, the constant expenditure of energy to figure out what was real and hold back the rest.
Groaning, I got up and called Mara. Inside an hour, I was back in the Danzigers’ kitchen.
I held on to a cup of coffee, but I wasn’t drinking it. “I have to get a handle on this. I know I’m a lousy student, but bear with me. I agreed to help Cameron with his problem, but I’ll have to get closer to the Grey to do it.”
Mara started to say something and I waved her down. “And much as I don’t like it, you were right. This isn’t going away. I don’t want to be a witch or a psychic or a Greywalker or anything else. I just want to do my job, but I can’t seem to without help. Cameron is . . . well, he’s not quite like the rest of us, and I’m going to have to deal with more like him. And this other investigation keeps turning up dead men. I’ve never dealt with this many recently deceased in my life. I’m at three now and the coincidence is bugging me. What’s with the dead guys?”
Mara swallowed a bite of muffin. “I’ve been considering that. You’re like a pebble in a pond, putting out Grey ripples, and all the fishes in that pond come swimming to see. That’s part of the difficulties you’ve been having. They swarm around and frighten you. And perhaps a few of them are pushing you in some way you can’t yet discern.”
“You mean like that geas thing?”
“No.What I’m wondering, now that it’s come up, is this. If a vampire, like Cameron, can have problems which need help solving, why not other creatures of the Grey? Some of them can’t communicate well, and others may need help which cannot be easily found. And here you are. Perhaps the number of dead you are turning up is no coincidence at all, but a sign that you’re dealing with something out of the ordinary. And as they’re attracted to you, so are a lot of other Grey things.”
I forced a laugh. “I hope not. The last thing I want is a client list from a horror novel.”
“If they choose to come to you, how will you turn them away? And is it even fair to do so?”
I put the coffee cup down. “Don’t start on the ethics. I’m already tied up about this as it is.”
She shrugged, but she’d made her point.
I picked apart a muffin, scattering the bits around my plate.
Mara pushed hers aside. “I looked up a couple of simple tricks and I’m thinking they might help you out.”
“Not more trips to the Grey today, please, Mara.”
“No, no. These are truly simple. In a way, you already know one and the other’s not any harder.”
I sighed. “What’ve you got?”
She grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’ve learned to push the Grey back so it’s just a bit of a flicker on the edges, right?”
I nodded.
“So, if you look sideways and concentrate on that Grey flicker you should be just seeing into the Grey. Sort