Page 40 of Throwing Shade
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Rupert screamed,all color draining from his face.
The kitten turned tail and ran.
“I’m sorry!” I dropped my magic and sprinted blindly from the elevator back to the side exit. I tugged on the handle, but when it didn’t budge, I rested my head on the door.
Magic equalled death. Wasn’t that the rule I’d lived by all these years? Why did I keep on testing the boundaries of this power when I’d have to put it back in its box after all this got resolved?
If Jude was involved with vampires—or worse—what exactly did I think I could do about that? Damn her for whatever she’d gotten into. She’d chosen this trouble, but I could still get out before I crossed a line that I couldn’t undo. You’ve already changed your mazel, a voice in my head said. It’s too late for second thoughts.
A snifter of dark amber liquid was pressed into my hand.
“Scotch,” Laurent said. I hadn’t heard him cross the main room over to the door. He stood there with the drink held out, his eyes kind, and I wanted to accept this sympathetic gift.
But that would lead to him asking me for things I couldn’t deliver. “Please let me out.”
“Come sit down for a minute, okay?” He touched my elbow and I allowed myself to be led to the wing-back chair closest to the fireplace.
“I can’t do this.” I handed him the snifter, and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, having lost the pen that held it back. “I’m sorry that I wasted your time.”
“You’re Jewish, yes?” he said.
I nodded, my hands relaxing on the arms of the chair.
“As am I.”
“You’re Sephardic, aren’t you?” I said.
“My parents are Moroccan Jews who moved to Paris after they got married.” He drank some scotch, then balanced the glass on his thigh, as light from a copper sconce played along his cheekbones. Plastic sheeting from one corner of the ceiling crinkled as the ventilation kicked in, and he sighed. “What do you know of the Jewish concept of Gehenna?”
It rang a bell. I sorted through the random facts I’d accrued over the years. “It’s some kind of underworld.”
“Exactement. While it isn’t mentioned in the Torah, some rabbinic texts believe God made it on the second day of Creation. Specifically, it’s the place where wicked souls go after death to be punished.”
“The wicked souls are dybbuks?” I leaned forward.
“Yeah. The word is a Yiddish derivative of the Hebrew phrase dibbuk me-ru’ah ra’ah or ‘the spirit who cleaves.’”
“Really?” I sat up, practically salivating over this cool fact. “Unfortunately, whoever is in charge of Gehenna isn’t doing a very good job if these spirits keep breaking loose and coming to earth.”
“Well, to be more precise,” Laurent said, offhandedly sipping his alcohol, “they let them out.”
I nearly dropped my purse. “What?”
He nodded, his expression somber. “Both the wicked and those that torture them get the Sabbath off. The dybbuks are free to come and wreak havoc, which they can only do if they possess a body.”
I buried my head in my hands, wishing we’d quit this conversation back at “cool fact.” We had an underworld and fugitive spirits on the lam from torture? “Is that what I saw when you opened that portal? Gehenna?”
He nodded, totally chill, when I wanted to flip his ottoman over and freak the fuck out.
“I’ll take that drink now.”
Laurent chuckled and brought me a finger of scotch, which I slugged back.
Knowledge was power, sure, but returning to my nice little bubble of safety by never using my powers again was very tempting. I put the empty glass down. Could I even do that anymore? I may have been a grown woman with a child, but times like this, I wished my own mother was still around to counsel me.
“What about Sapiens?” I said.
