Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [49]
“Damn. Okay. I’ll find a dark corner at the bar and see if I can contact your mom.”
I asked to speak to Hope and told her about Kimerion’s request. I assured her that we weren’t pressing her to agree. She did anyway. Which slung a fresh helping of guilt on my plate.
Hope sounded exhausted. Part of that was the pregnancy, but the visions were obviously sapping whatever strength she had left. However tough Hope tries to be, there’s a fragility to her even under the best circumstances.
Like most lord demons, Lucifer doesn’t sire many offspring. His come with short life spans. The chaos hunger drives them to madness or suicide.
Although Hope was only Adam’s age, she was already older than any recorded Expisco. No one’s ever told her that, but she suspects it. She’s a chaos addict fighting a battle that keeps getting harder as her powers grow. It’s a constant reminder to me of how lucky I am to be a spellcaster. The only curse of my powers is the temptation to misuse them.
But however frail Hope was, she’d never refuse any chance to help out. I suppose it helps balance the uglier parts of that chaos hunger. That didn’t keep me from feeling like shit, though, and wishing I could retract the request, tell Adam I’d take my lumps with Kimerion for breaking the promise to ask her. I even tried to backtrack, and dissuade her. To no avail. If we could use Kimerion’s help, she was damned well going to speak to him.
Now the problem would be telling Karl. I knew he’d tear a strip out of me. With Karl, that might be a literal strip. He’s always thought I’m an irresponsible and reckless brat, and deep down, I’m not sure he’s wrong. Right now, I was pretty sure he wasn’t.
“I wrote that article about Jaime’s show,” Hope said before passing me back to Jaime. “I’m not sure how much good it’ll do now. Might actually cause us some trouble—supernaturals who know I work for the council, thinking we’re trying to silence these activists. I called my editor and tried to stop it, but it went to press last night.”
When I hung up, I told Adam about the article.
“I’m going to run down to the gift shop and see if they carry True News,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good.”
“You want to come along? It’s just downstairs.”
“Someone should watch her.”
“She’s sleeping. We’ll just—”
“I’m awake.” Roni rose on her elbows. “What’s this about True News? And someone named Hope?”
“I was just saying I hope they carry—”
“Hope Adams?” she said. “Is that who you were talking to on the phone? Oh, my God. Do you know Hope Adams? Seriously? I read all her—I mean, I’ve read her work. I know it’s a tabloid, but her stuff is so good and . . .” She continued on in that vein for a few minutes, alternating between fan girl gushing and trying—less successfully—to play it cool.
“Yes, we know Hope,” Adam cut in finally. “Witches like Savannah have to be careful about humans like her, who might latch onto some bit of truth. The best way to control them is to befriend them, so we get a heads-up on any exposure threats.”
“Was that who Savannah was talking to, then? I heard something about getting me to a safe place. Am I going to meet Hope Adams? Oh, my God, that is so—” She cleared her throat. “It would be a pleasure.”
“No.” The edge in Adam’s voice warned that she was trying his patience. “Savannah was talking to a friend of ours, who’s arranging your stay in a safe house, and it has nothing to do with Hope. She’s not a supernatural. That’s why we befriended her. Because she’s not one of us. She could expose us.”
“Oh.” She slumped back onto the pillow.
Adam gave me a look that warned we needed to be a lot more careful what we said in front of her, even if we thought she was asleep. I nodded and went downstairs.
Night posed a dilemma. Roni wasn’t the strongest soul I’d met. What was to stop her from waking up and saying, “Screw this,” then calling her relatives to offer me up in return for immunity?
We took shifts sleeping. When Adam had trouble waking me the second time,