CHAPTER#52

Those who knew her also knew her story. Apparentl,y the love of her life had died in a terrible motorcycle accident. They had scraped what was left of Alex Winters off of the highway, leaving behind grieving parents and a closed casket funeral. It had been easy enough to delve into Alex's records, and Daryl now found himself outside of Dana's house.

He wasn't a hundred percent certain that Dana had even been inside the house, but he did know that he had to try. Kali was determined to dismantle the Geas herself, and Sebastien had already gone rogue. Neither of them had been willing to accept help, so he was here on a hunch, hoping that Mike had been naïve enough to allow her in during those first couple of days in his new home.

He didn't bother knocking - a quick flick of the wrist and the locked door allowed him entry. His movements were quiet, his soft footfalls barely registering on the concrete floor. Early light leaking through the windows provided the only light to see by.

For him, it was enough. Many years back, he had taken the eyes of a powerful magician, making them his own. He could see everything clearly in shades of gray, even in the darkest shadows of the garage.

Daryl pondered the mostly finished motorcycle in the middle of the bay. It was nearing completion as far as he could tell, and he allowed his fingers to gently touch the exposed chrome.

The sudden chill through his fingertips caused him to yank his hand away. Crouching, he examined the bike. The bike had been meticulously restored, but he could see the areas where the metal had been pounded out, paint reapplied, and new parts installed. He let his hand hover over the bike, feeling the shift in temperature once more.

It was the signature of a young life cut short, a remnant of Alex Winter's abrupt departure from this world. Fascinated, Daryl allowed his fingers to roam, brief flashes of a wet highway and bright headlights filling his mind. He traced the sensations, wondering if he could somehow find the soul of Alex Winters.

No. At the edge of the spiritual imprint, he felt the severed thread left behind by a soul that crossed over. Once Death cut that thread, the departed were beyond Daryl's ability to revive.

Standing, Daryl looked around. He had seen Dana's car in the driveway, so assumed she would be home. The loft upstairs looked like a great place to start. Before climbing the stairs, he reinforced the spell that muted his movements, the shadows gathering beneath his feet. The last thing he wanted was to let the girl know he was in her home and scare her off.

Putting his weight on the stairs, he felt them creak beneath his feet. The spell absorbed the sound nicely, the apartment filled only with the sound of songbirds waking up outside. Climbing the stairs, he kept a careful watch for any movement from up above. He held his wand behind him, the magical energy gathering in his wrists, begging to be released.

The loft had some furniture, a fridge, and a bathroom. Daryl walked into the bedroom area, frowning at the bed. Stacked on the mattress was a large pile of boxes, each one overflowing with clothes. He knelt down, taking a peek under the bed. She wasn't there either.

Fuck. Walking past her desk, he saw that she had drawn an elaborate diagram of gears. Clearly she had been working on something, but he saw no sign of her current project. He took a peek in the bathroom, hoping she was hiding in the shower.

Nope. Not here either. Scratching his head, he surveyed the apartment once more, casting a spell to detect life. Other than a family of mice living in the walls, he didn't spot anything of use. Widening the spell, he discovered the weakened soul of an elderly woman in the house next to the garage, her dim light puttering around in the kitchen. Tucking his wand away, he decided to go over and ask her where his prey could be. He closed the door behind him as he left.

Somewhere inside the garage, he heard a clock chime that it was the top of the hour. Gritting his teeth, he walked over to the nearby house, giving the front door a sharp rap of his knuckles. When the old woman opened the door, a blast of yellow light from his wand froze her in place.

"I'll let myself in," he said, closing the door quietly behind him.

-

They had carried Beth to the fountain, laying her out gently on the cool marble. Naia and Mike held her in place while Zel examined her, running her fingers gently across Beth's body. A tiny sphere of glowing water hovered over Beth's face.

"I don't feel any breaks," Zel announced, sliding her hands out of Beth's shirt. "I'm guessing she was knocked senseless by the... airbag?" She looked at Mike for confirmation.

"Yeah, that's the right term." Mike's arms were crossed. "How long do you think she'll be out?"

"Hard to say." Zel shook her head. "It sounds like it may be part shock."

"Well, she isn't asleep." Lily sat on the other side of the fountain, flicking the water with her fingers. She still wore her business casual outfit, one leg delicately crossed over the other. She looked like she was ready for a job interview. "Otherwise, I could go in and try to wake her."

"Which means we have to wait," Mike said, gritting his teeth. He didn't like the idea of waiting any longer than he had to.

"Wait for what?" Lily asked.

"Uh, well..." Mike gestured at Jenny, who sat near Beth's head, fabric legs dangling by the water. "I was hoping that Beth would let Jenny possess her again so that she could take me to the Labyrinth."

"And what if she didn't?" Lily asked. "Were you going to force her to do it?"