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NO ONE SPOKE as they exited the dean's office and the door shut behind them. They all just . . . left, and a hollow sensation dug into Vix's heart deeper than she'd ever felt before. She'd fucked up by insisting they all flee the Lancer, by Compelling them to keep their mouths shut. Hell, she had Opera in a morgue literally throwing herself at a corpse.
Getting into her car, she put the keys in the ignition, but didn't turn them. Instead, she tipped forward and leaned her forehead against the cool steering wheel. Pretty low, girlie. Pretty low.
Squeezing her fists, a heat grew against her palm. A purple glow showed through her fingers.
She'd used a magic she didn't understand to control a situation she didn't understand.
Worse than that, everyone in her inner circle and her outer circles knew about it, and unlike countless times before and against all instinct, she couldn't run. And damned if that didn't feel like the horrid hold of being a caged animal. Wanting to bolt and not being able to move. Frozen, like in Dean Adare Wallstone's office. A fucking flame locking her in place. She was a chump who thought she was a badass.
If there was a bright side, a sliver of hope that could redeem her, it was Opera being welcomed back to the school. Thank the Lord. This could be Opera’s chance to begin again. The girl needed that, and Vix was actually glad to be the messenger of something positive for a change.
Easing onto the road, she headed toward home, toward Opera and a ghost named Marva. Toward no fucking clue what she was and what next.
She parked outside her apartment building and climbed the stairs to her door with a pep in her step for a change. Enough with the self-pity from being scolded, this was Opera’s day now. Pushing inside, she fought the lock to get her keys back out, shut the door, and drew open the curtains.
Curled on the couch lay Opera as a middle-aged woman, out cold.
“Welcome back, bitch,” Marva said, nearly shooting Vix out of her skin.
It took a second for her to see the ghostly haze of the woman lying on her back sprawled on the floor, Gracie nestled against her thigh as if cuddling her.
Vix dropped into the chair, more than a little disappointed Opera was asleep, but she understood. She was tired too. “How's the slumber party going?”
Marva didn’t as much sit up as her mist reformed in a seated position. “Not great. I wasn’t living my best life, so to speak, before you two came along. She’s going through withdraw pretty bad.”
Oh shit. No. It never occurred to Vix that Opera not only took on the body, but also all of the problems. “What can I do to help her?”
What? Since when was she the what-can-I-do-to-help type?
“Give her time. A couple days.” Marva’s form shrugged. “Once the shakes stop, she’ll be in the clear.”
Days? She was expected to bring Opera to Pent tonight. She wished she’d paid better attention to the girl earlier, then she would have been able to delay things with Wallstone. God, untwisting the twisted was hard. No wonder Wallstone told her to stop it. Like some kind of zombie, she stared off in space, her mind both spinning and not moving at the same time.
“We’ll get her through it, I guess. No choice, right?” Yawning, Vix nodded.
“When’s the last time you slept, girl?”
Come to think of it, she had no idea. She’d tried to sleep the night before, and the night before that, but it wasn’t restful. More of a toss and turn, then drink yourself into a stupor kind of night.
Marva hovered near her. “Get some rest. You look like shit as much as she does. I guess this magic business takes the fire out of ya.”
Actually, an afternoon nap did sound good. As she stood, Vix felt an obligation to apologize to Marva for basically killing her and then forcing her to stick around in her crappy apartment. “If it’s worth anything to you now, I’m sorry this all happened.” She gestured at Opera on the couch. “We didn’t mean to ruin your life, or take it, and I, we, don’t know how to give your body back to you.” God, honesty felt . . . weird.
“Shit, girl. This is the first time I’ve been clean and under a roof in years. She can keep that thing so long as you don’t mind me hanging around for a bit. I ain’t ready for no Saint Peter.” She went back to lying down. “No, I don’t mind this at all. This is nice compared to where I came from.”
Vix offered a tight smile and nodded, then went to her bedroom and flopped onto the peach comforter covering her bed. She barely slid her shoes off and heard them clunk onto the floor before she was fast asleep.
––––––––
GAILS STOOD OVER VIX, shaking her awake.
Squinting, she swatted at him until he backed off.
“I’m up, I’m up. Stop it.” She sat upright and leaned into the headboard. It was pitch black outside. How long had she slept? Did she miss class? “How did you get in here?”
“Doesn’t matter. We need to talk.”
“Where’s Opera?”
“She’s lying down.” Although Gails’ tone seemed frazzled, he looked fine. Cool under pressure. “I have to tell you something.”
“I have a phone; you could have called, you know?”
“I needed the conversation to remain private. Will you just shut up and listen to me?” Okay, now he wasn’t so cool under pressure.
Right then and there, the normal version of Vix would have spoken up, yelled probably, told him to get out and to never tell her to shut up again. This Vix stayed put, waiting to hear him out. Now, that was different.
“The fight at the Lancer.” He hesitated. “I started that fight with Dorfman.”
“I think we're a little beyond who started the fight—”
“I fought him because he said something about you. Something not nice. He needed to know he crossed a line.”
She rolled her eyes. Felt a thanks-but-no-thanks coming on. “I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Even if I did hear him, I would have handled it differently. Not gotten Opera killed.”
He stood, paced the room. “I'm not here to debate the handling of it, I'm here to apologize. Officially. For Opera, for him, for Marva. I fucked up and there was a bigger ripple effect than I thought possible.”
“Well,” she said, resigned to just about everything at this point. “We all played a part.”
Sitting back on the edge of the bed, Gails hung his head. “But mine started it all.”
“You came all the way over here to tell me that?”
“Trying out some of that honesty the kids talk so much about, I guess.”
Oh Lord, she was not ready for a Kumbaya moment. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“Feels better to say it out loud. Wallstone told me it would.”
“Good. I'm glad you feel better.”
“You don't?”
Vix drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around her bent legs. “I don't think I'll feel better until I know Dorfman isn't going to break the school.”
He shook his head. “We'll find him.”
“Fucking how?”
“I don't know,” he sounded defensive. “Think of something. Compel someone for answers.”
She pointed at him. “That's low.”
Hands back, he leaned away. “I take it back.”
“Just don't act like my gift is a problem. I don't do that with yours.”
“About that.” He stood. “I should go.”
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her face. Was she friends with this dude? Or were they still at a distance?
When she opened her eyes, she was on her side, the direct sun splashing her room with yellow. Gails was gone.
Son of a shit.
Fumbling on the nightstand, she found her phone and punched in a sharp text.
WTF, dude!?!
What?
Don't play around. Visiting me in my sleep?
Sorry. I didn't want to wait to say what I needed to say.
Other than the part of her that liked it, she tried to fume about his magic offense. Not cool.
I said sorry.
Warn a girl next time.
There will be a next time?
Gawd! She tossed the phone to the foot of the bed. Whatever.
The sound of retching drew her attention.
“Opera?”
Vix climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom where the girl lay on the floor shivering next to the toilet. Marva, of all things, sat propped on the side of the tub, holding her own real hair out of the way of vomit.
“Is she okay?” Vix flipped on the light see better.
Opera moaned as she outstretched a trembling hand.
“Day one off the sauce,” Marva said. “It ain't great. What's crazy is I've never seen myself go through it, but let me tell you, I'm happy to be on this side. It sucks.”
“Dean Wallstone wants to see you tonight, Opera. You can come back to school. Isn’t that great?”
Opera began crying between dry heaves. “I want to go home,” she sobbed.
But Vix knew what she meant. Not where she lived, or the hospital before that, but home, back to her body, and that simply wasn’t an option. Pity swelled in her chest, finally for someone else.
“I want to go home.” She eased off the floor enough to ball together, hug her knees to her chest, and rock as she wailed. “I want to go home.”
Darkness crept over Vix’s shoulders and pushed down on her. The creeping sensation of bugs again, but they were heavier now. She couldn’t help Opera. Not really.
If there had been any relief at the idea of returning to school tonight with a new Opera in tow, it straight fizzled now. Looking over the shivering mass in front of her, Vix swallowed the bitter realization that nothing about redemption was going to be easy.
She lowered down next to Opera on the dirty tile, rubbed her back, and tried her hardest not to cry.
