She cleared her throat. “You don't remember being a little bit possessed?"
He arched an eyebrow in obvious disbelief. “Is that why my head is pounding like hell on fire?"
"No, that's probably from where I knocked you out by mistake.” When he stared at her she sank a little lower in the chair. “You kept calling me a slut, by the way, which is really rude even if we did have crazy sex an hour ago."
"Jesus.” He shook his head, then winced. “Why would she possess me? We were having a perfectly cordial conversation."
Sara shook her head. “Not Celestina. The ... other thing. You don't remember any of it?"
His blank stare answered her question. “There's—What was it?” he asked urgently. “What did it look like?"
The edge of panic in his voice didn't do much for her nerves. “You said it was a ghost, but I'd never—it was just black. Shadows and ... nothing. But Celestina said it was the person who killed her."
"Fuck,” he whispered, the panic in his eyes flaring into terror. “Did it go? Did you see it?"
"I haven't seen anything since it happened.” Which was annoying, to say the least. So much for my lack of magical ability being an asset.
He stared at her for a second, then yanked at the bonds around his wrists. “Make these tighter. Hurry."
Sara slid from the chair and moved to kneel next to him, her fingers shaking a little as she tried to hide her sudden fear. “I'm not an expert at tying people up, but I thought I did okay for a beginner."
"They're not strong enough, Sara. It—” He shuddered. “It's not gone."
"Oh, God.” She tugged one of the curtain cords tighter. “Tell me what to do. How to get rid of it. If I can get rid of it...” Years of feeling inadequate made her choke on the words as she added a second knot. “God, I'm so f**king useless."
"You're not useless,” he insisted. “I don't know, either. Maybe an exorcism, or ... Shit, I don't know.” He looked up at her, regret etched across his face. “I'm sorry I said those things, Sara. I didn't mean them."
"Shh.” She moved her hands to his other wrist. “Are you sure this isn't too tight? I don't want to hurt you."
"I'll be okay.” He watched her retie the second drapery cord. “You have it, Sara. You have some magic. I can feel it."
"Not enough,” she whispered. Her father's words echoed in her head and she spoke them without thinking. “I might as well be human."
"But you're not."
Frustration rose up as she sat back on her heels. “So what should I do with it?"
Her feelings of helplessness were reflected on Reed's face. “If I knew, I'd have told you already."
She had to tell him. She'd considered the perfect way to do it a hundred times, but none of her practiced words came to her lips. Instead she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head.
"Marcus Frazier.” At his blank look, she twisted her hands together and closed her eyes, unwilling to face the look in his eyes when he heard the truth. “The Vice President of recruitment for Para-Tech."
"What?” he asked, confused. “What about him?"
She took a breath. Took another and tried to fight back the shame and pain that scraped against her even now. “He's my father. My biological father. And an excellent judge of magical aptitude, so I have it on very good authority that I'm a magical dud."
He just snorted. “Frazier doesn't know everything. He was at my f**king apartment with my sister two feet away, staring at him, and he didn't have a goddamn clue."
"That's beside the point.” She opened her eyes and sought his gaze again. “So he's not a medium. He's still a brilliant wizard, and spent the first twelve years of my life putting me through every magical aptitude test imaginable. Do you want to see what I can do? The only damn thing?"
She didn't wait for a response. She yanked the quilt down to his waist with one hand and slapped her palm to the middle of his chest. The tiny trickle of magic inside her flared, and Reed's aura flared in response, becoming visible.
It was the only thing she'd ever been able to do. Touching a person, identifying their powers ... useful in the classroom, but not in the real world. Not unless she wanted to go around groping strangers, since it didn't even work unless the contact was skin to skin.
Reed's aura was strong, which she'd expected. It flared brightly around him, and he grunted in surprise and pain. His aura began to darken, blackness seeping into the clear blue, clouding it. “Sara, the other ghost—"
"No, Reed.” She leaned closer, her other hand going to his cheek. “Stay with me. Fight it, you can do it. I know you can. You're so strong, I can feel it.” And she could, could feel it so strongly she swore she could sense the presence inside him, could almost see the struggle.
"If it gets out...” He heaved a breath and gritted his teeth for a moment. “I don't know where it'll go."
She cut him off with a kiss, desperate and terrified. She could feel his heart pounding under the hand braced against his chest as she pulled back, her face only inches from his. “We're going to get it out of you,” she whispered hoarsely. “Because you have to come home with me and teach me how to tie people up right. So fight it, Reed. Fight it."
He nodded and closed his eyes, grimacing. “I can beat it.” He shook silently, then shuddered with a wrenching cry. His aura was black, inky, and she swallowed past a lump in her throat when he fell still. After several long seconds, the darkness began to clear. “Okay,” he whispered. “I'm okay."
Her hand trembled against his chest as she sat back and whispered silent thanks. “I'm going to untie you now,” she whispered, unsure if he was even awake enough to understand, or if the effort had drained him. “We can leave, Reed. Fuck the grant, f**k all of it."
He whispered something too low for her to hear, so she bent her ear to his mouth. “Car?"
"I'll call.” She finished unwrapping the drapery cord from one of his wrists and then reached into her back pocket and pulled out her slim cell phone.
She shouldn't have been surprised when she found the battery so dead it wouldn't even turn on. “Shit. Shit.” Somehow she doubted the Monteras had installed a landline anywhere in the house.
"How did you do that?” The voice was small and full of wonder.
Sara whipped her head around and found Celestina staring at her. “What?"
Celestina blinked. “You took his Sight."
Sara barely heard the words. Before Celestina had been a wispy figure, nearly transparent and completely intangible. Now, though, now she looked as solid as Reed. As real as Reed, if she discounted the flare of magic around her, a glow that gave off its own light. “You—what happened to you?"
"Nothing.” She blinked again and looked between Sara and Reed. “You took it. His Gift."
It was insane. It was impossible. Sara turned back to Reed and fumbled at the cord holding his other wrist to the bed. “Reed, what the hell's going on?"
He didn't answer her, just mumbled, “We have to leave."
"Shit.” She tore the cord from his wrist and rubbed at it, trying to work circulation back into his hand. “Reed, we can't leave unless you can get up. Can you get up?"
"Celestina...” The voice floated in from the hall, high and feminine. Mocking and vitriolic.
Celestina shot back toward the corner, huddling against the wall as if trying to drift into the lacquered wood. “No. No!"
Sara spun, placing herself between Reed and the door without thinking. “I can hear—” She shot Celestina a look. “Why do you think I have Reed's ... Sight. Gift. Whatever."
Celestina just mumbled, “She can see—"
A laugh interrupted her words, and Sara turned just in time to see a stern-faced woman in a flowing dress sweep into the room. She held a lamp in one hand and a knife in the other. “Isn't this providential?"
Celestina's words came back to her. My murderer. She recognized the energy in the angry ghost, though she'd been nothing more than a shadowy mist downstairs. Whatever had happened, whatever the ghost had taken from Reed—Or what I took from Reed—the woman was visible now. Solid.
Oh God, please don't be tangible. The knife looked sharp and the woman seemed more than willing to use it.
She stepped forward in a swish of skirts. “Three sinners to be punished. Looks as though you'll have company tonight, Celestina.” Her dark eyes swept over Sara. “You again."
"She's insane,” Celestina whispered. “She always has been."
Sara rose to her feet and stumbled, feeling oddly off balance. Then her hands began to glow. She stared down at them, completely perplexed. “What in Hell—"
Celestina drew in a shaky breath. “Banish her. You have his Gift. Banish her."
Sara snarled her frustration. “I don't know how."
"Stupid bitch,” the woman hissed, waving the knife at her. “If you bothered to direct your energies somewhere besides the bedroom, you might have learned something besides how to lie on your back."
Sara blinked, one again floored by the sheer absurdity of the accusation. Her ex-boyfriend had averaged two calls a week to her office, always to chide her for spending so much time wrapped up in her studies. Remembering his angry accusations that she'd do anything to avoid the bedroom ... She couldn't help it. In spite of the danger, in spite of the very real threat, she broke out into borderline-hysterical laughter.
The three of them—two ghosts and her new lover—all stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.
Sara straightened and held her hands out in front of her, watching as the glow intensified. “I don't know what your damage is, woman, but you are in for a serious disappointment. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's directing my energies anywhere but the bedroom."