Page 68 of A Shade Too Far
“We don’t know,” Hiram said.
It was like one of those record scratch moments. I shook my head because it wasn’t possible. “No.” My voice cracked, and I pounded the armrest. “Tell us!”
At Hiram’s answer, Laurent had frozen, but he began laughing, a demented sound free of any amusement.
“We said we’d answer honestly if we knew it.” Ephraim walked onto the stage. “I’m sorry, kid.”
Laurent didn’t stop laughing. It racked his entire body, agonizing to watch, and horrific to hear.
Our seat belts fell away.
The shifter curled into a ball, his laughter now silent, and yet more chilling because he rocked back and forth.
Afraid he’d cracked, I placed a tentative hand on his back. “Laurent. Please stop.”
He flinched away from my touch.
The red exit sign lit up with a bing and Laurent bolted.
At some point I’d feel sick about all this, but right now I remained numb to everything except the haunted look in Laurent’s eyes before he’d raced out of here. I shoved the blank domino in my purse, my belief in good luck talismans shattered. “This isn’t a game anymore. If we don’t stop this person, it could unleash an entirely new wave of hunters.”
“I know,” Hiram said softly.
“Then why would a Banim Shovavim who has this magic care about the Torquemada Gloves?”
The two old men didn’t even bother arguing about whether to answer. Ephraim dropped onto the love seat next to me.
“You know what the gloves do?” he said, rubbing his knee with arthritic hands.
“A person puts them on and becomes convinced that they no longer wear their own skin. They go mad and eventually die by clawing their skin off.”
“Exactly. But the key word is ‘person.’ Do you know what they do if a demon puts them on?” Ephraim took a deep breath, steadying himself to continue. “The reverse. The gloves become a second skin, giving them a physical form that they can hold indefinitely. They can look human forever if they wish so long as they wear the gloves.” His eyes bored into me with a flintiness that I couldn’t look away from.
I clutched my purse to my chest like a shield. “A dybbuk isn’t a demon.”
“It’s an evil spirit,” Hiram said, leaning heavily on his cane as he came out from behind the podium. “It qualifies.”
I shook my head, grasping at straws. “Dybbuks don’t have a solid form.”
“The gloves would give them one.” Hiram sat on the armrest next to Ephraim, leaning against the other man’s shoulder. “It would look human and never have to worry about its Banim Shovavim dying. It wouldn’t even be tied to that person anymore. It would be a mindless killing machine in physical form, existing forever.”
No wonder both the dybbuk and the woman were after it.
I dropped my head in my hands. This female Banim Shovavim had threatened Tatiana, and Laurent would hunt her down for her magic abilities alone.
That was his line; what was mine?
When Tatiana failed to produce the gloves, the curse would kill her, and this woman would go after Zev next. He had to be convinced to see reason. And if not? Perhaps there was a way to neutralize her magic? If dybbuks qualified as demons, then would Naveen have a way to find out?
I slung my bag across my chest. “I’m leaving and I better remember everything I just learned.”
Hiram nodded tiredly. “You will. You won.”
Had we?
Ephraim sighed and rested his hand on the back of Hiram’s neck. “Good game.”
The words reminded me of Zev at his fight and I shivered. This too smacked of ritual, though there was no threat in it.
There were a lot of things on the tip of my tongue: “You should be ashamed,” “I hope it was worth it,” an unending scream, but in the end, I said nothing, leaving the cold emptiness of the studio for the bright light of day.
Only to find it just as desolate because Laurent was gone.
