“Really? That’s all it would take? This isn’t a trick?” Cordelia asked.
“This is your mind space, darling girl, you would be able to sense if I was lying,” Pandora countered.
“You might have to be placed inside another glass case, for your own safety. You swear you wouldn’t act out?” Cordelia asked.
“As long as I could see the open sky, I would be silent and harmless as any other stone,” Pandora swore. “You have my word.”
“I think I could arrange that,” Cordelia said. “I will speak to my superiors as soon as I can get out of here.”
“Well, you should make it sooner than later because that man you mentioned is getting closer,” Pandora noted.
Cordelia nodded. “Thank you, Pandora.”
Pandora grinned, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Pandora. I’ve never had a name before. It’s lovely. Thank you, Cordelia.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And Cordelia, if you ever feel the need to release some of those memories in your head, you could come to me,” she said. “That’s my purpose in this world. But I think maybe someone else might deserve it, all that weight.”
With a deep inhalation through her nose, Cordelia came back to reality…just in time for Walt to kick her in the ribs. Squealing, she sprawled across the grass. The casket tumbled out of her hands.
“Dick,” she spat, pushing to her feet.
In the distance, she heard a strange sound, like the beating of enormous wings. Walt was still aiming that damned gun at her. “Pick it up. We’re getting out of here.”
Instead of cowering, she strode forward, hands extended. Her expression had to be terrifying because Walt stumbled as she grinned at him.
“You deserve this more than I ever did,” she said, pushing the gun aside and cupping her hands over his cheeks. She pictured her mind palace, all of the little apartments she’d built and filled, and all at once, she pictured all of the leases breaking, the doors disappearing. She didn’t want to contain them. She wanted to evict them all together. Using Bonita’s lessons, she let those memories loose and pushed every awful image she’d ever absorbed into his head. The killings, the abuse, the pain. Walt screamed, dropping the gun and falling to his knees. She only stopped when she felt his mind at the brink of cracking. And now, she couldn’t feel the weight of those memories, free in her mind. They were Walt’s burden now. The mind palace stood, but the sad little apartments were empty. She was free.
Walt was crouching, weeping at the storm of chaos in his head. She felt the wind of dragon’s wings just before she saw Bael in his terrible shifter form, hovering over her. Zed shifted mid-jump and landed on the ground as a bear, rolling to his feet and running full speed at Walt’s crouched form. He planted a giant paw on Walt’s chest and pinned him to the ground, roaring at an ear-shattering volume. Cordelia clapped her hands over her ears as Bael dropped gracefully to the ground.
“Showoff,” Bael yelled, shifting into a human as Brendan ran across the grass. Her banshee practically tackled her, throwing his arms around her and crushing her to him as he covered her face in kisses.
“Oh, you’re alive,” he whispered against her forehead. “You were dead. I saw you dead. I never want to see that again.”
“I’m a self-rescuing princess,” she chuckled weakly. “Also, I hurt a lot.”
“I love you, I love you so much, you mad, self-rescuing princess who is bound to one day give me a fucking heart attack,” Brendan panted.
“Love you, too. I’ll try not to do the heart attack thing anymore,” Cordelia promised.
“Walter Benson, or whatever your name is, you are under arrest for attempted murder, assault, burglary, destruction of private property, and whatever else I can come up with,” Bael said, clicking handcuffs around Walt’s wrists.
Walt offered no resistance. He was too exhausted from crying.
Across the clearing, a fleet of League vehicles screeched to a stop. A full SWAT team came pouring out onto the grass, guns raised. Sonja ran with them—in stilettos—a clipboard in her hands.
Zed, who had changed back into his (naked) human form, wiggled a finger in his ear while looking around. “Has anyone else noticed the lack of head-splitting pressure from the rift?” He turned around, searching the sky. “Where is the rift?”
“Pandora closed it. She’s sorry. She didn’t realize she was doing that,” Cordelia said.
“What’s that, Cordy?” Zed asked.
“I’ll explain, Zed. I swear, but could you put some pants on?” Cordelia asked.
“No can do. Shredded them when I shifted,” Zed said, shrugging.
“I am scarred for life,” Brendan whispered.
“Would someone please get the mayor some pants!” Sonja yelled at the SWAT team as they took Walt into custody. Some League enforcement officer had apparently anticipated this, tossing Zed a pair of sweatpants.
Sonja pulled Cordelia into a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Jillian says you are the best hostage-detail-revealer she’s ever heard. And it makes me sad that we have a scale for who’s the best hostage.”
“Thank goodness for old man phones,” said Cordelia.
“What did you do to him?” Bael asked.
“Made him see every awful thing that’s ever come to me through my gift. He’s going to be having nightmares for…ever,” Cordelia said.
The group of SWAT team personnel parted, making room for Darwin Messina. Dressed in a crisp beige suit, he didn’t bother with greetings or social niceties. He merely looked down at Walt’s crumpled form with disdain. “You’re not going to escape questioning, Mr. Benson. You will answer their questions thoroughly and we will get to the bottom of this situation. You will give me the name of every single person involved and some who just thought about being involved.”
Walt’s raw voice grated across Cordy’s abused ears. “Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, all of those things that Cordelia made you see? Just a preview,” Sonja said.
The League officers hauled Walt to his feet and Darwin Messina stalked off without so much as a “good evening.” Cordelia wondered if maybe he knew she suspected him of being the person behind all this madness.
Cordelia muttered out of the side of her mouth, “Sonja, I don’t know if I could do that to Walt again. It might kill him. Also, as of right now, my head is sort of empty…of psychic memories, not brain cells.”
“I would never make you do that,” Sonja assured her. “I can’t believe you did it the first time. But as you can see, it’s a very effective threat.”
“Sonja, is Jillian safe?” Bael asked.
“Yeah…she fought me really hard when it came to shoving her in that closet. Some of your stuff may be burnt when you get home,” Sonja said, wincing.
Bael nodded, resigned. “I expected that.”
“Closet?” Cordelia asked. “Why would you shove Jillian into a closet?”
“I instituted ‘saferoom protocols’ when people kept getting taken hostage and almost-murdered. Jillian agreed to it and now that she’s pregnant it’s even more important. ‘Saferoom protocols’ means Sonja shoves her into a closet and locks the door,” Bael said.