Chapter 2

I touched the back of my head. There was some matted in my dark waves, but the bleeding itself had stopped.

Meryem refused to get into my fine vehicle, holding her wrist pointedly against her chest once I'd uncuffed her as though I'd caused permanent nerve damage. "You gonna kidnap me?"

What a drama queen. "Much as I hate to deprive myself of your stellar company, no."

"Then I can get myself home."

"Mer - " Charlotte Rose sighed. "Be safe, okay?" She leaned in and gave Meryem a quick kiss.

Meryem blushed, scraping one of her raggedy high tops along the ground.

Even I, with my cold, dead heart, found their coupledom adorable.

"Here." I fished out what was pretty close to my last forty bucks.

"Fuck you. I'm not a charity case," Meryem said.

Maybe not, but she was in a jean jacket and had to be freezing in the miserable March weather. No way she had a good home to go to, if any at all. However, she was also prickly and if I was too nice - generally not an accusation thrown my way - she'd bolt.

"Consider it compensation for pain and suffering." I shoved the bills at her.

They disappeared so fast into her pocket that I made a note to get this girl some help.

"Thanks," she said, her eyes flickering uncertainly up to mine.

"Get lost before I change my mind."

She squeezed C.R.'s hand and bolted.

I fumbled at the door handle because there seemed to be two of them, then sank gratefully into the driver's seat, taking a couple of steadying breaths before I leaned over to unlock the passenger door, knocking the Tylenol bottle onto the floor.

C.R. got into the car, keeping her distance.

Using the rag that I kept to defog the windshield since the heater didn't work, I wiped myself down because my hair was sweatily plastered to my neck. I ignored Charlotte Rose's grimace that came with huffy sound effects.

Once I was dry-ish and reality had stabilized enough to drive safely-ish, I patted Moriarty's dashboard twice and turned the key, whispering, "Who's a good boy?" and praying this wasn't the moment he died on me once and for all. Not like he hadn't faked his death more than once. But he started with only the mildest choke.

Neither C.R. nor I spoke for the first half of the ride.

"You going to out me?" she said.

I braked at a red light and glanced over at her. The world swung sideways and I gripped the steering wheel tight until my equilibrium was restored.

C.R.'s words were sneered but her pupils were slightly dilated.

I slowly faced forward so as not to jiggle my brain. "Contrary to popular belief and genetics, I have a moral compass. It's up to you to tell your mom about Meryem. So, why invisibility magic?"

"Mom used to play this game where she'd pull the blanket up over my eyes and say, 'Where's Charlotte Rose?' Apparently, I went nuts for it."

Uh-huh. Cute answer but there was more to it than that. While Nefesh were born with magic, the precise nature of it developed during childhood and was rooted in psychological primal drives.

The light turned green and I hit the gas, wincing at Moriarty's jerky start. "And the attempted robbery?"

"I wasn't going to steal anything," she said hotly.

I let the silence grow.

It took her all of two blocks to break.

"It was my birth mother's place," she said. "I wanted to see..."

"What Darleen's life was like without you?"

Charlotte Rose shrugged, a mess of emotions playing across her face that she tried to hide under a sullen disinterest. Then it hit her. "You knew? Is that why you stopped me?"

I made a smooth left. "Figured you didn't want your big reunion to be from juvie."

She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.

Thankfully, it was a short drive from there, because by the time we pulled up to her large Tudor home with its pricy S.U.V. parked in the driveway, my skin felt two sizes too small, and the world's worst itch had settled between my shoulder blades, exactly where I couldn't reach.

This time, I met Victoria in her living room, decorated with that faux rustic charm involving unpainted wood, a chunky stone fireplace wafting out the scent of pine, and cutesy large prints with sayings like "Laugh. Live. Breathe." that made me want to "Gag. Run. Drink."

Victoria greeted me in a purple bamboo yoga number that would have been very comfortable to move in, except I doubted she did classes in full makeup, her blonde-streaked hair twisted in a chignon and large diamonds flashing in her ears.

Inner peace through Tiffany's. Namaste, bitches.

"Charlotte Rose," Victoria said. "What's going on?"

"You hired her to spy on me?" C.R.'s glower at her mom should have incinerated her.

"I hired her because I was concerned that my daughter was a drug addict!" Victoria planted her hands on her hips and the two of them broke into a furious squabble.

I whistled loudly, pain flaring inside my skull. Eyes half-squinted shut, I massaged my temples. I could patch myself up with some aspirin and a good night's sleep. Nothing to fear. "Your mom was worried. Suspicious and over-paranoid but worried. Charlotte Rose is not on drugs. Fight it out later."

Victoria sat down on the sofa next to her daughter. "Then why has she been behaving this way?"

She'd hired me to get answers and I had them, but this was a delicate situation. "She was curious about her birth mother. It's natural and isn't any reflection on you."

Victoria plucked at her sleeve.

"Mom?" Charlotte Rose reached out for Victoria and I braced myself for her mother's hurt dismissal, but Victoria surprised me and took her daughter's hand.

"I wish you had come to me first but I understand. When we adopted you, Darleen made it clear that if you wanted to meet her, she was open to it, but we need to do this properly, okay?"

"Okay."

Victoria smiled at me and stood up. "Thank you. If you'd care to send your invoice - "

"Sit. Down."

She dropped like a stone onto the cushions.

I perched on the edge of a scratchy wing chair, hoping my casually braced elbow on the back didn't look like the desperate support to remain upright that it was. "Victoria, I specifically asked you in our intake interview if you could think of any Nefesh connection that would prevent me from taking this assignment. I'm not legally allowed to handle cases involving magic."

The law was asinine, supposedly "designed to protect Mundanes like me." Right. Try more money in House coffers since all Nefesh paid taxes towards House resources and protection. But it was what it was and if House Pacifica found out, I'd be brutally fined, because they took this very seriously. I was already existing by the skin of my teeth. This would ruin me.

"Magic?" Victoria said, and flushed a faint pink.

I stared at her until her shoulders slumped.

"Her birth mother was from a good Mundane family and there was no father listed on her birth certificate," Victoria said. "Nothing in the adoption showed that Charlotte Rose might be Nefesh through the birth father."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that part, since I investigated it thoroughly. However, you knew about Charlotte Rose and you kept it from me." I practically threw my arm out of its socket trying to get at the itch but it remained maddeningly out of reach. "Why me? You could have gone to a Nefesh P.I."

"I didn't want them to suspect. And you were cheaper," she admitted.

Slight as my accomplishments were, and my mother had written a treatise on that, they were mine and I was super proud of them. Maybe I didn't have the interesting cases - yet - but a woman had to start somewhere and I was pulling this off on my terms. I'd get there.

I gave up on the itch and my anger. Victoria was not worth committing grievous bodily harm and losing everything. But man, it was close.

"Here's my advice," I said, catching myself before I did a slow slide off the chair and onto my ass. Okay, maybe my condition was a bit worse than presumed. "Take Charlotte Rose to House Pacifica and point her baby blues at them. Squeeze out a tear or two for good measure while you throw yourself on their mercy. Mom, you didn't know. Kid, you were scared to lose the love of your adoptive parents."

Charlotte Rose bit her lip, exchanging a glance with her mother.

"Hit the mark there, did I?" I said. "Let me guess. Dad has a few beliefs in common with the Untainted Party?" That explained the invisibility magic.

"How'd you know?" Victoria squeaked.

"I'm well versed on those people. They're a pretty popular political affiliation around here."

"I can't tell him." Charlotte Rose looked genuinely scared.

I softened my tone. "You don't have a choice. If you don't do it by tomorrow, I'll have to because all people with magic must be registered with the House in their region. A fact you damn well know. But since it'll be worse if I'm involved..." Mainly, for me. "It's in your best interests to keep me out of it and pile on the remorse."

"This feels really unsavory," Victoria said. "There has to be another way."

My dad's voice rang out loud and clear in my head. There are two types of people in this world, Ash, my girl. Those who are marks and those who aren't.

It had only taken me one harsh lesson to swear I'd never make that mistake again. Victoria had tried to play me. Operative word being "tried."

"There isn't," I said. "Your kid is currently a Rogue. Fix it."

Charlotte Rose surged up like a fury of Greek myth. "I'm not registering with the House. They experiment on people."

Her voice hurt my ears. It was too loud, too grating.

"While I'm happy to think the worst of Levi Montefiore and House Pacifica..." I dabbed at the sweat on my brow. "They aren't running some mad scientist lab. They're legit, annoyingly so, and believe me, it's much worse to be on their bad side than on the same team."

My words sounded funny, all long and drawn out. Fuck. I was going to have to brave a hospital. Warning Victoria again to contact House Pacifica and reminding her that late payment on my bill was subject to interest, I made my excuses and stumbled out to Moriarty, whose headlights seemed to smirk evilly at me.

The drive to the closest Emergency Room was a blur. I pulled up to the entrance, tossed my keys at the attitude-laden valet in the fireman costume who totally wasn't getting a tip, lurched inside, and collapsed, unconscious.