Key Of Knowledge (24 page)

“That's a relief to me.”

“You'd better understand that I make the conditions at this point in my life. The fact that I have a kid and I'm not married doesn't make me easy.”

Angry shock leaped into his face. “For Christ's sake, Zoe. Where did we veer from me finding you interesting and attractive and wanting to kiss you to finding you easy?”

“I want to be clear, that's all. Just like I'm going to be clear that nobody uses my kid to get to me.”

The shock, the anger iced over. The chill hit him from a foot away. “If you assume that's what I'm doing, you're insulting all three of us.”

She felt twin jolts of guilt and embarrassment. As she started to speak, Simon flew into the room. “I rule! Beat your high score, sucker!” He danced around Brad, shaking his index fingers in the air in a victory dance.

With effort, Brad folded his emotions further inside, then hooked an arm around Simon's neck. “A momentary event, I promise you. Gloat while you have the chance, you midget.”

“Next time I'm beating your butt in the NBA play-offs.”

“Never happen. And when I humiliate you, you will
crawl to me on your belly like the insignificant worm you are.”

As she watched the exchange, saw their obvious enjoyment of each other, her guilt only increased. “Simon, we have to go.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me mop the floor with ya.”

“I'm just luring you in, so crushing you will be more gratifying.” With his arm still around the boy, he looked at the mother. “I'll get your coats.”

S
INCE
it became apparent, very quickly, that Dana wasn't handy with home improvement chores that involved tools, she was designated head painter. Which meant, she thought, a little sulkily, that she spent all day slapping paint on walls while Zoe went around doing stuff with a cool little electric screwdriver or drill and Malory putzed around with the leak under the kitchen sink.

The fact that Malory was the girliest girl of Dana's acquaintance and that
she
got a wrench was lowering.

It wasn't that she minded painting so much—even though it was incredibly boring, despite the magic roller machine. She just could've used a little variety on her job list.

Still, watching the walls take on color was satisfying. Malory and Zoe had been on the money in the choice. Her bookstore section was going to look not only warm but stylish.

Zoe swore that once the floors were sanded and sealed, they would glow.

She knew how it could look. Kane had shown her. And if he'd used her own fantasy to build the image, that was fine. This was one fantasy she was going to make sure came true.

As an idea struck, she stopped, turned off the machine, set the roller aside.

The truth in his lies. Her fantasy, and his manipulation of it.

What if the key was here, as Malory's had been? Why couldn't it be that simple? He'd shown her, hadn't he? Look what you can have, if you only cooperate with me: your dream bookstore, full of customers and stock. Not real, she thought now, not truth. But there'd been truth in it. It was what she wanted, what she intended to work for. What she could have, with her own effort and on her own merits.

Maybe the key was right here, if she could only see it. If she could bring it out as Malory had.

She took some deep breaths, shaking her arms, rolling her shoulders, like a diver about to spring off the high platform.

Then she closed her eyes, tried to let herself drift.

She could hear the whirr of Zoe's drill, and the cheerful music that Malory had playing on the radio.

What was that? ABBA? Jesus, couldn't she find a station that recognized music from this millennium?

Annoyed with herself, Dana struggled to erase the image of a teenage dancing queen from her mind.

The key. The pretty gold key. It was small, shiny, with that looping Celtic pattern at the hilt. Was it a hilt when it was a key? she wondered. It wasn't a damn sword, so there had to be another word for it. She'd have to look that up.

Oh, stop it!

She huffed out another breath, and focused.

The whirr of the drill, the tinkle of music, and beyond that, the muffled sound of cars passing on the street outside. The hum of the furnace as it kicked on.

And if you listened hard enough, she realized, the creaks and whispers of an old house settling into its own bones.

Her house. Hers. The first she'd ever owned. A step out of the past toward the future. A single, definite move that changed the pattern of what had been toward what would be.

She could smell fresh paint, a testament to a new start.

Those things were real, as real as her own flesh and blood. Those things were truth.

The key was real. She had only to see it, to touch it, to take it.

She saw it now, floating on a field of peacock green, shimmering against that deep color. But when she reached out, her hand passed through it as if it, or she, was insubstantial.

I'm the key. It's meant for me.

She tried again, again, bearing down with the effort until sweat pearled on her forehead.

It's mine, she kept thinking. And this place is mine. Soon books will be lined along this wall, other walls. Knowledge.

“Dana!”

She snapped back, swayed even as Zoe's hands caught her arms. “What did he do to you? What did he do? Malory!”

“No, I'm okay. I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine. Hold on to me. Mal!” she shouted again.

Dana calculated she had a good thirty pounds on Zoe, but her friend managed to hold her upright and steady.

“What is it? What's wrong?” With a crescent wrench gripped like a weapon in her hand, Malory rushed in. For some reason, seeing the pretty, feminine blonde in her plumber's gear of sexy black leggings and slim green sweater—with matching hair tie—wielding a wrench had Dana giggling weakly.

“Kane. Kane had her. She was in some sort of trance.”

“No. It wasn't Kane. I'm a little dizzy. Maybe I should just sit down.”

She slid to the floor, taking Zoe with her.

“Oh, God. Are you pregnant?”

“What?” The shock went a long way toward clearing her head as she goggled at Zoe. “No. Jeez. I just started having sex again, remember? Would you two stop staring at me as if I were about to start speaking in tongues?”

“Here. Have some water.” Zoe pulled a bottle from the holster on her tool belt.

“I'm okay.” But she gulped down the water. “I was just experimenting with a little self-hypnosis.”

“Here, let me have that.” Malory reached for the water, took a deep drink. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. I had this idea that the key's here. Yours was—and the whole past, present, future thing. The store, our businesses. The books I'm going to be hauling in here. Truth in lies. How Kane showed me the place all finished and full of those books and customers buying them.”

“Okay. I'm following.” Zoe pulled out a red-and-white bandanna and dabbed at Dana's brow. “But what happened? When I walked in you were standing in the middle of the room with your arm out in front of you. Kind of swaying, with your eyes closed. Honey, you looked really spooky.”

“I was trying to, you know, bring the key out. See the key. Be the key. Shit, that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn't.” Handing the water back to Zoe, Malory considered. “It's a good idea. It could be here. Hell, it could be anywhere, so why not here?”

“A good idea,” Zoe agreed. “But I don't think you should try something like that alone. It could be like opening yourself up to him, with nobody around to keep you steady. Like a control group, or backup. You really looked out of it, Dana.”

“You've got a point.” But she smiled. “Stop fussing,
Mom.” To lighten the mood, she pinched Zoe's biceps. “You're a lot stronger than you look. You work out regular?”

“A little here and there. Mostly I'm just built.” And her heart rate settled down again. “You look better now. Maybe we could try something like this, with the three of us.”

“It might be worth a shot,” Malory agreed.

“If you're up to it, Dana. We could sit right here, link hands. Mal and I could sort of
push
our energy toward you.”

“Perhaps you recall a small incident last month involving a Ouija board?” Dana asked.

“Not likely to forget.” Zoe gave a quick shudder. “But we wouldn't be using anything but our own connection. It's not like we're playing around with the dark arts, or whatever it is.”

“Okay.” Lips pursed, Dana looked around. “But it seems kind of silly. The three of us sitting on a drop cloth in an empty, half-painted room trying to conjure up a magic key. But . . .” She gripped Zoe's hand, then Malory's. “I'm in.”

“Mal, maybe you could give her some tips. What it was like for you, what you did.”

“I don't know if I can explain it. So much of it just happened. It's like being in a dream, but knowing you're dreaming, and at the same time knowing it's not a dream.”

“That's a big help.” But with a half laugh, Dana squeezed her hand. “Actually, I know what you mean. It's the way I felt when he took me into the bookstore.”

“I don't know how I understood what to do, but it was suddenly so clear. The one thing was focusing on what I had to do without letting him know I was focusing on it. And that was hard, really hard, but part of that was because I was so scared. For me, it helped to concentrate on painting, the actual art and act. The colors, the tone, the detail. I don't know if that helps you.”

“I don't know either. So let's find out.”

“We're not going to let anything happen to you,” Zoe told her. “We're going to be right here.”

“Okay.”

Taking that long breath, Dana shut her eyes. It was a comfort to feel the hands gripped on hers. Like an anchor, she supposed, that would prevent her from floating off somewhere she shouldn't go.

She let herself listen again to the sounds of the house, to her own quiet, steady breathing matching the rhythm of her friends'. She smelled paint, and perfume.

There was the key again, shining on the colored field she now realized was the wall she'd just painted. Her wall, with the color chosen by the woman flanking her.

But when she reached out for it with her mind, she could bring it no closer.

She struggled with impatience and tried to imagine how the key would feel in her hand. Smooth, she thought, and cool.

No, it would have heat. It held power. She would feel that fire from which it was forged, and when she closed her fist over it, it would fit easily in her palm.

Because she was meant to hold it.

The color washed away to a strong white lined with black. The key seemed to melt into it, a shimmering gold pool that dripped over black and white, then faded away.

In her mind she heard a long sigh. A woman's sigh. And felt, heard, a rush of wind that smelled like autumn burning.

She walked at night, and was the night with all its shadows and all its secrets. When she wept, she wept for day.

The words that ran through her mind brought such an ache she thought her heart might bleed dry from it, as from a mortal wound. In defense, she shut them off.

Everything faded again. And she could smell the paint, and the perfume.

She opened her eyes, saw her friends watching her.

“Honey, are you all right?” Zoe spoke gently as she freed her hand from Malory's and touched Dana's cheek.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“You're crying.” Zoe dried Dana's cheek with the bandanna.

“Am I? I don't know why. Something hurt, I guess. You know.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “In here. I don't know where it is. I still don't know where the key is.”

She scrubbed the heels of her hands over her face and told them what she'd imagined.

“She walks at night,” Malory repeated. “The goddess walks.”

“Yeah. It sounded sort of familiar, but I could've made it up. Or it could apply to Niniane. I just know it made me horribly sad.”

She got to her feet, walked to the window to open it. She needed air. “She's alone in the dark—that's how I think of her. They're all alone in the dark. If I don't do what needs to be done, they'll stay in the dark.”

Zoe walked over to press her cheek to the back of Dana's shoulder. “They've got each other, and they've got us. Don't beat yourself up. You're trying.”

“And I think you're getting somewhere.” Malory joined them at the window. “I'm not saying that to be annoyingly optimistic. You're putting the different parts of Rowena's clue together. Your brain's working them out, shifting them around, trying to make them fit. And I think with this last attempt, you've started to use your heart.

“It's not just your mind that has to be open,” Malory added when Dana turned her head to stare at her. “Your heart has to be. That's one thing I learned. You can't take that last leap otherwise. You won't be ready to risk what's on the other side.”

SHE didn't know why it bothered her, bothered her to the point of anger. Open her heart? What was that supposed to
mean? Was she supposed to strip her emotions bare so anyone could come in on a whim and dance all over them?

Wasn't it enough that she was working her ass off, giving herself headaches with hours of research, note-taking, calculating, and supposition?

She cared, damn it, she thought as she slammed into her apartment. She cared about those three young women, half goddess, half mortal, and trapped for eternity inside a glass prison.

She had shed tears for them, would shed blood if necessary.

How much more open did she have to be?

Tired, achy, irritable, she strode to the kitchen, popped the top on a beer, ripped open a bag of pretzels to go with it. She dropped into a chair in the living room to sip, munch, and sulk.

Take the last leap?

She was going up against an ancient and powerful sorcerer. She was risking nearly every cent she had on a new business. She'd ordered shelving and tables, chairs, and books. Let's not forget the books.

Then there was the cappuccino machine, the individual teapots, the glassware, the paper products that would max out her credit card in very short order.

And she was doing it all without any projected income. If that wasn't a goddamn leap, what was?

Easy for Malory to talk about open hearts and last leaps. She'd already done her part, and was all cozied up with Flynn in connubial bliss.