Thirteen (Otherworld 13)

"Uh-uh, baby," she said. "You're not touching that without oven mitts. Industrial oven mitts."

She pushed it down farther, covered it with more debris, then dragged a huge fallen branch over it. Seemed like overkill, but I left her to it. When she was done, she walked backward away from it, murmuring, "So far, so good."

"It's fine," I said. "If you have to return for it, it's marked. Now--"

A tremendous crack had me diving for the ground, arms over my head. As I dropped, I saw what looked like that massive branch sailing into the air, broken in two. A whirlwind of dead vegetation swirled up, then exploded, wet and stinking of rot. I clawed it from my face and looked around.

Jaime was crouched ten feet away. My mother stood where I'd left her. On her back, the sword glowed blue, so bright I had to look away.

"Damn," she said. "I was really hoping that wouldn't happen."

She helped me up and brushed the dead leaves from my clothes.

"So you can't leave it behind," I said. "Literally can't. That's . . . inconvenient."

Jaime stood, picking leaves from her hair. "You can hide behind a blur spell when we aren't alone. Probably a good idea. You're so used to being a ghost, you're liable to walk into walls and plow down old ladies."

That wasn't an ideal solution--Mom couldn't stay under a blur spell for very long at a stretch. We didn't tell Jaime that. We'd figure things out when we had to.

We set out again, and I fell in step beside my mother. "So how long have you had the sword?"

"You mean, how long have I been an angel?" Her voice dropped. "I'm sorry. I know this is a big shock."

"One that could have been avoided." I glanced back at Jaime, trudging behind us.

"No," Mom said sharply. She shook her finger at Jaime. "Don't give her that look and don't apologize."

"I--" Jaime began.

"You feel bad and you shouldn't." Mom looked back at me. "She couldn't tell you, Savannah. Couldn't. She would have been bleeped."

"Bleeped?"

"Cosmic interference. Yes, maybe she could have found a way around that, but if she tried, the Fates would have decided I couldn't be her spirit guide anymore. And no one wanted that, right?"

"Right." I glanced at Jaime. "Sorry."

She nodded. Still looked guilty, though.

"So how come that sorcerer wasn't censored?" I said. "He told me what you were."

"No idea. Same as I have no idea how he got me to materialize."

"It was a spell. I heard him doing the incantation. I didn't recognize the language, though."

"Hmm." She kicked aside a branch and murmured, "I find it hard to believe such a spell could even exist. Way too dangerous. Which could mean it's not just an old spell he dug up, but something . . ." She shook her head. "We'll work it all out later."

"If you're still here," I said. "When the Fates realized what happened, they'll recall you, won't they?"

You could disappear at any second. That's what I meant. I couldn't say it, though, as if putting it into words might make it so.

"I don't know," she said. She stopped. "Maybe we shouldn't be in such a hurry. We're far enough away from the station. Let's take a rest."

Let's rest. Let's talk. Let's just be together while we can.

God, how I wanted that. But I knew we shouldn't, and from her expression, she knew it, too. We'd left a massacre behind, one that reeked of the inexplicable and the supernatural.

"We'll have time," I said, and resumed walking.