Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [39]
Brooke cleared her throat, which I don’t even want to get into because it was still freaking me out a little. “Hey, guys, it was a good idea. Really. It just didn’t work, that’s all.” She smiled at both of us. “But we’ll figure it out.”
The phone rang, and Ramon answered when I made no movement to get it. Self-pity and guilt had shut me down, and I was too busy thinking about how nice it would be to crawl into my closet for a week and hide until Douglas came to kill me. Sadly, that thought was almost comforting compared with the idea of him tracking down everyone I cared about one by one. I heard Ramon hang up. “Telemarketer?” I asked. “Someone else threatening my life?”
“Nope. An appointment with Maya LaRouche. She got our number from somebody, thinks she might be able to help.” He smiled and picked up Brooke’s case. “So get your coat. We’re going to Ballard.”
Ballard is one of those little areas in Seattle that I don’t go to unless I have a reason, and once I’m there I always wish I went more oft en. There are a lot of good restaurants, bars, and clubs that I don’t visit simply because Ballard’s a pain in the ass to get to, no matter where you’re coming from.
Ramon directed me to a small residential street and a little yellow two-story with a garden. We parked and walked up, looking around for any sign that this was the right house. I wasn’t really sure what we were looking for. Did we think there would be a giant crystal ball in the front yard with a flashing arrow? I checked to make sure my medicine bag was hidden under my shirt. I needed all the comfort I could get. Pouch in place, I caught up to Ramon, who was already at the door.
The door opened on the second knock, and any greeting I had mustered died unsaid. My mouth stalled at the sight of the girl holding the door, and my brain lumbered to get it running again. Gorgeous with a capital G. She looked like an Egyptian queen—all high cheekbones and golden brown skin. But the intelligence in the brown eyes that stared back at me told me she didn’t skate on her looks. She held her hand out. “Dessa LaRouche.”
She shook my hand firmly, confident enough that she didn’t try to break any bones, but no dead fish, either. “Sam LaCroix, right? What happened to your face?” Before I had a chance to explain away the bruises, she’d angled slightly toward Ramon. “And you…I know you.”
My head snapped over to Ramon, who had gone uncharacteristically silent. He knew pretty girls? Ramon had been holding out.
“You were in my biology class,” Dessa said. “Ramon something.”
“Hernandez,” Ramon said.
I vaguely remember Ramon mentioning a Dessa, though he’d mostly referred to her as “girl of the goddess body.” If Dessa kept Ramon this quiet, I might need to hang around with her more oft en.
Dessa paused, frowned at the bowling bag in Ramon’s hands, then waved us in and closed the door.
Ramon glanced around, trying to take in as much of her house as he could. All the walls I could see were done in earth tones—warm browns and greens—interspersed with photos and paintings. The house looked nice, not in an overly stylized way, but in a lived-in fashion. Dessa lived in a home, not a house. There’s a difference.
We walked through a set of French doors to a small room that looked nothing like an office to me, except for the two heavily laden bookshelves. Lace curtains billowed from an open window, and the walls were what my mom would call a pale, soothing lavender. I didn’t see a desk or a computer, just a small glass coffee table, a teapot, and a few overstuffed chairs arranged around it. In one of the chairs sat a woman calmly drinking tea from an old china cup. Her smile hovered just over the rim of the cup, and she gestured for us to sit. Maya LaRouche looked like a leaner, slightly older version of her daughter, with one exception. She had eyes like new copper pennies. Those eyes shifted her from beautiful to striking and surreal.
She put down her tea and poured some for Ramon and me without asking as we sat down. “I’ll need my daughter to remove your friend