"Here?" Jase asked as I took a seat on the reception sofa. I'd washed my coffee cup and put it away after we came back inside, but that was as much procrastination time as I'd given myself.
"It's as good as place as any," I said, sliding nearer to the sofa arm, trying to find the softest spot. The sofa was office sturdy, not squishy. It looked good, but it wasn't designed to be relaxing to sit on. "I'm comfortable here. But lock the door and put the 'office closed' notification on the elevator. I don't want anybody interrupting us."
Jase still looked uncertain, but he went to his desk and hit a few buttons on his keyboard to activate our do-not-disturb settings. Then he crossed to the door and locked it, pulling the blinds down for good measure. No one was going to get past the elevator, but the blinds made it feel more private.
I leaned over and flicked on the lamp that sat on the side table with a stack of magazines. We rarely used it. Bug picked it out when I'd been decorating the office. A quirky take on an old-fashioned banker's lamp, it had a heavy brass base engraved with constellations and the glass shade was purple, shading to deep blue rather than the standard green. Bug said it was like the night sky and claimed it would make my clients feel comfortable.
Given a lot of my clients were supernaturals, I didn't think many of them had confidence issues, but I'd liked the lamp. The light it gave off beneath the shade was warm and golden, cutting through the clear white from the LEDs set in the ceiling.
"Turn off the main lights," I said. "It might be easier." The last two times I'd tried this had been in brightly lit rooms. I had no idea if that had contributed to my inability to give in to the thrall, but it was worth trying something different.
Jase did that and then dragged one of the reception chairs closer to the sofa. "How do you want to do this? Do you want to lie down?"
I settled back into the sofa, running my hands over the navy fabric. Safe. I was safe. "I think sitting is better."
"Okay." He settled into the chair, looking oversized in its depths.
Note to self: bigger office chairs required.
"Are you sure you know how to do this?" I said, sounding breathless.
"I know how to thrall someone," Jase said, one corner of his mouth lifting. "We all do."
"Yes, but there's more to it, right? If you're going to make me remember."
"Well, as for that part, we'll just have to see, won't we? It's not like I've ever had to do anything like this before." He made a little “settle back” gesture at me. "But I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't know what I was doing. I wouldn't put you at risk."
"Okay, good." My voice squeaked that time. Then I remembered Rhianna. "Can I ask you a weird question?"
"You can ask me anything."
I squeezed my hands together, not meeting his eyes. "Can you see my memories if you go into my head?"
"Not unless I'm trying."
I looked up. "Wouldn't this count as trying?"
"I'd be trying to get you to remember your dad and whatever he planted. If he did. I don't need to see anything else."
My shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Okay. That's good." I believed him. So that would mean he shouldn't stumble over my memories of Rhi’s death.
"Does this have something to do with what happened with Rhianna?" Jase asked.
"No." But the word had come too fast. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because what went down was clearly not good. And if you're worried about me seeing some of that in your memories, maybe it was way beyond not good. Worse than you're letting on. Your aunt isn't the only one who's good at pretending everything is okay, Ash." His smile was lopsided. "It's okay if you're not ready to talk about it but you're going to have to at some point."
I looked away again, shoulders hunching. "Maybe."
"Definitely. But that's your decision. And I'm not going to do anything but help you find what your dad left for you. But if you don't trust me, then you should get Marco to do this."
I shook my head, swallowed hard before I look up at him again. "I trust you. I want it to be you."
"Okay."
"Okay," I agreed. I did trust him. My head knew I was going to be okay. I just had to convince the rest of me that was true. My palm rubbed restlessly over the arm of the sofa.
"Ash, if this is going to work, you have to relax," Jase said gently.
"Easy for you to say."
"Maybe. But it's true. I'm not going to force you. If you won't go under for me voluntarily, then we'll have to go back to Marco. He's stronger than me." He put his hands on his knees, watching me.
I nodded, fighting my instincts. The wolf inside me wanted to run. She didn't like feeling like prey. But she wasn't in charge, I was. And I didn't want to wind up back at Marco's asking him to force his way into my head. He could probably make it enjoyable, but only for as long I was under his thrall. I knew from experience that after that, I'd be in all sorts of trouble. "I'm trying."
"I could sing to you," he said with a smile.
"That isn't relaxing," I said, smiling back. Jase loved old musical theater with a passion. But his voice was the kind only a mother could love. I tried to get him to keep to a hum in the office, but we'd had some alcohol-fueled nights in karaoke bars that were best forgotten.
"I know some soothing numbers."
"Soothing for banshees, maybe," I retorted, then laughed.
He grinned. "That's better. Okay, no singing. How about bad jokes?"
"Thanks, but let's just do this." I was feeling more relaxed.
His smile disappeared. "Okay. So, you know how this goes. I'll sit here, and you look at me when you're ready. And try to avoid that wolf shielding thing. Think of beaches and piña coladas and Dan in a bathing suit, not moonlight, okay?"
"Right," I said, then, "Why are you thinking about Dan in a bathing suit?"
"I'm not. He's your happy place though. Lean into that. As long as you keep it in daylight." He leaned forward, closing the space between us a little. "I'm right here. Whenever you're ready."
I closed my eyes and summoned Dan again, smiling as I put him in a Hawaiian shirt, holding a piña colada. He looked happy. I needed to lock on to that. Dan happy and relaxed. Bug safe. Everybody safe. That was why I was doing this. I tried to sink into the sensation. What would it feel like if all the trouble Tate and Smith had brought to me all went away? To find out, I needed to trust Jase.
I couldn't put it off any longer. Holding an image of Dan and a glorious tropical beach in my mind, I looked up and met Jase's gaze. His mossy green eyes caught mine, the way they'd done a million times.
My best friend.
I steadied my breathing. Jase breathed with me, not saying anything yet.
"I'm ready."
Jase slowly eased one hand up toward my face, and when I didn't flinch away, he laid it on my cheek. Marco had touched me to do this, too. "Hey," he said. "It's me. Let me in."
I stiffened, but before the recoil came, I found another breath. And another, staring into his eyes. And suddenly, the familiar sensation of a breeze wafting over me took hold. I'd half expected Jase to feel green like Marco. Marco felt like a forest, old and deep. Rhianna had felt like cool blue water. But Jase, well, he felt warm. Cozy. There was a golden glow around us, a sense of comfort, like fall leaves crunching underfoot or sitting by an open fire.
I smiled. Maybe it was the thrall rather than our friendship giving me this sense of security, but I'd take it over panic.
"Good," he said. "Now, let's take a walk."
My awareness shifted, the room around me fading away as the gold and the warmth and the safety wrapped me tighter. Then I was standing with Jase on a leafy trail, both of us dressed in jackets and boots and scarves. The path we were on wound through a wood that reminded me of the forest around the Retreat. Dense and close, the light tinted green.
Though the woods there had few clear trails. Wolves made their own way.
The path beneath our feet wasn't well worn either. Leaves scattered over the dirt and tufts of grass grew here and there, breaking the patches of bare earth up. It felt abandoned. But also faintly familiar. An odd sensation. I looked ahead, but I couldn't see around the bend in the trail. "Where are we?" I asked.
Jase shrugged. "This is your brain. You tell me."
I frowned. "I'm not sure." This was different to the other times I'd been thralled. They hadn't felt so real. Marco had been a voice in my head telling me I was safe. And Rhianna and I had stood in something more like a void, talking.
"Then I guess we just keep walking," Jase said. "But think about your dad for me. Try to remember him."
In the warmth of the thrall, I didn't resist the suggestion as I might usually. It still hurt to think of my parents. Not always the terrible fresh grief of my teens but a well-worn ache that sometimes still stung too sharply. Wallowing in my memories of them wasn't a luxury I allowed myself very often.
But I closed my eyes and summoned my dad's face. Laughing brown eyes and the dark brown hair just starting to show the odd silver strand when he'd died. The scruff of stubble across his jaw from the days when he was too caught up in his work or some project around the house to remember to shave.
I smiled at the thought, and Jase said, "That's good."
I opened my eyes. The path, which had been shaded by trees, was now dappled with patches of sunlight, and the sense of warmth was stronger.
"Think of another memory," Jase said, and I obliged.
Dad teaching me to drive, pretending not to be desperately resisting the urge to grab onto the steering wheel at some of my wilder moments.
Dad mowing the lawn and laughing when Mom brought him lemonade, not beer.
Dad asking me about my hated chemistry homework.
Dad laughing again as he held up the last Tootsie Roll in the bag and offered to flip me for it. We both loved them. Mom just shook her head at us when we made ourselves half sick gobbling our way through a pile and threatened to never buy them again. Which only ever resulted in Dad buying the biggest pack he could find the next time he went for groceries or did a Costco run. In my mind's eye, he held out a Tootsie Roll in one hand and a quarter in the other.
"Heads," I yelled. And watched as he sent the coin spinning through the air, sunlight sparking off the edges.
"There!" Jase said. "Hold on to that one."
I froze, the memory stilling as well, then opened my eyes. "Why?"
He pointed ahead of us. "Because something just appeared on the path up there that wasn't there before."
I looked where he was pointing. I might not have spotted it without the assistance of werewolf-sharp eyes. There, ahead, right at the edge of another bend, lying in a clear patch of dirt, was a Tootsie Roll, the tiny bands of red on the wrapper all that made it stand out from the path. And suddenly, I was bending to pick it up without having walked the distance between.
"Tootsie Roll?" Jase asked, looking amused.
"His favorite." I walked around the bend, trying to think of another memory of Dad and his obsession with the candies. His last birthday when Mom had made him a Tootsie Roll-shaped cake and he'd been so delighted, he'd just stared at it for five minutes with a silly grin on his face before kissing her soundly.
"Another one," Jase said. Sure enough, on the path ahead, another roll had appeared. I walked to it this time, bent to pick it up. It felt real enough in my fingers, the right weight and shape. I resisted the urge to unwrap it and eat it in case I broke the illusion.
"This is all feeling very Hansel and Gretel," Jase said.
"Dad liked fairy tales. And myths and legends."
"He was a scientist though, wasn't he?"
"Yes. But he always said stories were how we tried to make sense of the world. Back then, before they had the science to explain things. Even now when we're trying to express things that we can't yet explain." I rolled the candy between my fingers, trying to remember exactly what he'd told me about science and stories and the way the world worked.
"Well, maybe whatever he left hidden is something we can't explain," Jase said. "Let's follow the Tootsie Roll road." He waved me on. When I didn't move immediately, he shot me a “get on with it” look, and the warmth glowed around me again.
I started walking, still thinking about my dad. Tootsie Rolls continued to appear. I gathered them all until there were too many to hold in my hand and I had to shove them into the pockets of my…
I realized suddenly I was wearing one of my old favorite hoodies under the jacket. A UWA hoodie that had been my dad's. I'd stolen it from his wardrobe early in my teens, even though it had been way too big for me. I'd lost it in a house move years ago.
"The woods are getting thinner," Jase said, and I came back to the present again. He was right. The path was growing lighter, and in the distance, I could see where the trees ended. And another glowing Tootsie Roll ahead on the path.
When we reached the tree line, I hesitated. Around me, leaves rustled, and the light dimmed a little.
"Something wrong?" Jase asked.
"I just…what if it's something bad?"
The glow of the thrall flared brighter, and another wave of safe-warm-relax rolled over me. "It's your dad. He loved you, Ash. He'd never do anything to hurt you."
"He hid something in my head."
"Because he trusted you. Not to hurt you. If he was here, you'd do this to help him, right? So now you can do it to help everyone else you care about. Bug. Me. Dan. The pack."
He was right. I straightened my shoulders. "Okay."
We stepped past the edge of the woods and onto the lush grass of a large field. The kind Sam's dad probably raised his cattle in. The kind that surrounded Caldwell.
Not all that different to any other field. Lots of healthy green grass bordered by post and wire fences and edging onto other fields. A couple of green squares over stood a white clapboard house with a cheerful red roof. But no signs of life. No cattle or sheep in the field itself. The only living thing besides us and the grass was a giant oak tree, its branches reaching out and up, creating a circle of shade on the ground beneath them.
I thought I caught a glimpse of something dangling from one of those branches, but it was still too far away to be sure.
I racked my brain for any memory of this place, but nothing came. Whatever it had meant to my dad, I didn't think I'd been here before. But maybe it was my dad just playing with symbols again. There were plenty of myths that featured big-ass trees, after all. I just hoped he wasn't expecting me to climb it and get transported somewhere else.
As I walked toward the tree, the grass sighing around my feet as a soft breeze ruffled it, I didn't think that was likely. Somehow this felt like the end of the road.
Jase walked beside me, his presence strong and steady, a golden glow in the back of my head, telling me I was safe. When we reached the tree and stepped into the shadow of the canopy, he began to laugh.
"What?" I asked.
He pointed ahead of me. A Tootsie Roll bag dangled from one of the gnarled lower branches. It was a stretch to reach it, but it came away easily to my touch. And it felt weighty in my hand.
OPEN ME was scrawled across the plastic in black Sharpie. When I looked more closely at the bag, I realized the top of the package was taped together. I peeled back the tape and peered into the opening. It was full of candies, but peeking out from beneath them was the corner of an envelope. I withdrew it with two fingers, handing the pack to Jase.
"All this for a note?" It felt kind of anticlimactic. Rhianna had said she could see numbers and letters in my head. But she'd been less than coherent, and I had no way to know now what she'd meant. Or even what powers the virus had granted her. It should have been too soon for her to have any meaningful psychic powers. But maybe what Smith had done to the virus to make it more contagious had altered that, too.
Jase shrugged, then tipped his chin at the envelope. "Maybe he explains it all in that."
I ran my finger across the heavy paper. ASHLEY was written across it in my Dad's spiky black scrawl. Along with GOOD JOB, KIDDO in smaller letters underneath. I smiled even as my heart twisted, fighting back the emotion. Time enough to get sentimental after I had my dad's message.
I studied the envelope. It seemed harmless, and my wolf was quiet, not sensing any danger.
"Here goes nothing," I muttered as I ran my fingernail under the flap and lifted it. Instead of a piece of paper, there was a flash of light, and then suddenly my father stood before me.
"Dad?" I said, bewildered.
The image turned toward my voice. "Hi, honey," it said. It was his voice. His tone. A voice I hadn't heard for so long. And had never expected to hear again. I groped for Jase, felt his hand close around mine.
"I guess you're wondering what this is about?" Dad continued. "If you're seeing this someday, then either I asked you to get this for me or maybe I'm gone." He hesitated a moment. "I hope it's not that. But if it is, and you need this, then I'm sorry, honey. Didn't mean to leave a mess for you. I hope you never see this. But as you are, then I'll just say, 'I love you. I'm proud of you.' And if I'm not there, then wherever I am, I miss you like hell."
He blurred in front of me, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was because I was crying, not because of anything wrong with the memory or whatever the hell this was. I swiped at my eyes, not wanting to lose a second of him. For a moment he was studying my face, that easy smile—oh, that smile I missed—breaking my heart all over again with the knowledge it wasn't real. That he was gone, and this was all that was left.
Then he seemed to look past me, over my shoulder. Almost as though someone was behind me. But I couldn't feel anyone there, and Jase hadn't reacted, so I didn't look. He nodded once, and then his gaze came back to mine.
"Now, listen to me, darling girl. Remember this." He reeled off a string of numbers, then repeated them. Then, before I could do anything more, he was gone.
"No!" I stepped forward, the hand not in Jase's reaching for him.
Jase pulled me back. "Ash."
"No!" I struggled. "Bring it back."
"He's gone," Jase said, and very deliberately stepped in front of me so our eyes met. "He's gone, and you need to wake up right now."
Gold light flared around me, and my eyes flew open. Pain crashed over me. The ache of loss. Of grief. I curled my hands into the sofa, heard something snap.
"Ash," Jace said. "Ash, tell me those numbers." His voice was demanding and strangely compelling, as though he hadn't yet set me free of his influence.
He had his phone out, recording. "Ash, remember them. Now."
I reeled off the numbers, surprised they were still in my head, as I battled the overwhelming sense of grief and loss. Like I'd just lost my Dad all over again.
"Good," Jase said. "That's good. That's what I heard, too. You did it, Ash. You remembered."
I burst into tears.
Jase let me cry, making soothing noises and passing me Kleenex. Eventually I wrestled myself back under control, and he rose and drifted off into the back of the office. I didn't pay much attention until he reappeared with water, a cookie, makeup wipes, and eyedrops.
"Do I look that bad?" I managed, only half hiccupping the words.
"That depends," he said.
"On what?"
"On whether you're still going to meet with Esteban tonight."
Crap. I'd forgotten all about that. I finished blowing my nose and straightened. It was just a memory. I hadn't just lost my dad. I was okay. Or I would be. I pushed the sadness away as best I could. "Yes, of course I am."
He frowned. "Are you sure? That was a lot."
That was an understatement. Having my dad right there. It had felt so real even though I knew it had all been in my mind.
Brains were weird. And sometimes they could screw you over.
"It wasn't real," I said. Maybe if I repeated that a few more times, I'd start to believe it was true. "And Esteban won't want to reschedule."
"Are you going to tell Dan what just happened?" He put everything he was carrying down on the chair he'd been sitting in, then dug into his suit pocket and extracted a piece of paper. "Here. I wrote down the numbers from the recording. Looks like location coordinates to me."
I took the paper and unfolded it. He was right. I hadn't made the connection, but it was definitely latitude and longitude. I'd never been a Girl Scout, but one of my high school gym teachers had been into orienteering and made us learn all about compasses and maps and hiking with coordinates for a semester. "Did you look this up?"
He shook his head. "I figured it's up to you what you want to do with it."
I glanced at my watch. It was closing in on 2:00 a.m. I kept weird hours, but most of the world still slept through the night, and it didn't seem smart to go flying off to wherever this was straight away.
If it was a business of any kind, it would probably be closed, anyway. And I'd been telling the truth when I said Lord Esteban wouldn't wait. He'd cooperated with our investigation and let us freeze his bank accounts and various other assets while we tried to root out how someone had siphoned money out of his businesses, but he was growing impatient for that to come to an end. Tonight I was supposed to be telling him what progress we'd made—which boiled down to “not enough”—and giving him clearance on which accounts we were handing back to him.
Both things that could have been done via a phone call, but when an Old One asked for an in-person meeting, you didn’t say no. Not when you were working for him because of a favor you owed to another Old One. Technically Esteban could demand all his assets be handed back and the Taskforce would have to do it. They could get court orders to force him not to, but that would all take time we didn't have. Even Dan—who didn't like Lord Esteban one bit—hadn't argued about tonight's meeting when I'd mentioned it. He was supposed to be picking me up in about thirty minutes to take me there.
"I'll call Dan, give him these coordinates. Someone in the Taskforce can look into it, and I guess tomorrow we'll take it from there," I said.
"You'd think your dad might have offered up a bit more of an explanation," Jase said. He was frowning, frustration underscoring his words.
I knew how he felt. In fact, as the worst of the shock of seeing my father again receded, irritation was building in its place. Whatever the coordinates led to, I hoped there was some sort of better explanation at the end of it. Maybe Dad had thought he was protecting me when he'd put this stuff in my head, and maybe he'd never expected that I'd need it one day—or at least need it without him there, despite his little speech.
No one really ever believes that they're going to die, do they?
But I couldn't help feeling as though he'd indulged his love of puzzles and pranks a little too much. What was wrong with a good old-fashioned safe-deposit box and a key and some sort of secure message in his will?
"I guess he had his reasons," I said, trying to sound calmer than I actually felt. Heading to deal with Esteban in a temper wasn't a good idea.
I took the makeup wipes and headed for the bathroom. Cleaning my face and reapplying my makeup made me feel a little calmer. When I returned, Jase was seated at his computer working.
"Thank you," I said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I should have said that first."
He went red, looking pleased. "You were upset. I would have been, too, in your place."
"Maybe. But I mean it. Thank you. You're the only one who could have done that for me. It means a lot." I hugged him, even though the angle was awkward, trying to express what I felt. He'd given me a few more moments with my dad. And even though that hurt, it was also a gift I'd never be able to repay.
"I love you, too, Ash," he said. "Now, call that wolf of yours so we can find out what the hell this is all about."
I laughed, let go of him, and went to grab my phone off the side table.
Dan sounded surprised when he answered. "Is everything okay? We're heading your way in a few minutes."
"I have some new information," I said. I'd told him I was going to ask Jase before I'd left for the office, but there'd been no way to know if it was going to work.
"Oh?" There was a lot of hope in that one syllable.
"Jase and I tried again," I said, keeping my tone casual.
"Okay." Fabric rustled, as though he was moving around. "I take it, it worked?"
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?"
"Mostly," I said, smiling. I loved that he asked about how I was first rather than what I'd found. "It was weird. We can talk about that part later. But turns out that what Dad left me was a set of location coordinates. At least, that's what I think they are." I rattled off the string of numbers.
"Yep, that's what they are," Dan said. "Okay, I'll get someone to work out where this is. Unless you did that already?"
"No. I'm leaving that part to the experts. Plus, it's the middle of the night. If it's a bank or something, it's not like I can go bang on the front door. But the Taskforce can."
"Let's see what turns up," Dan said. "Do you want me to wait and find out before I come to you?"
"No. I don't want to keep Esteban waiting."