Page 29 of The Rut in the Road

Whether Ward also noticed or saw something else I didn’t, I wasn’t sure, but he offered Mason a small smile. “We’ll be okay,” he said, his voice gentle.

Mason let out a long breath. “I know,” he replied.

I felt like I didn’t belong in the room anymore. Like there was a second conversation going on underneath the one I could hear.

I stood, and they both looked at me as though they’d forgotten I was there. “I’ll make sure we have what we need and will call Vi,” I said, then left Ward’s office.

Nobody stopped me.

6

He was nervous,his fingers twisting the class ring the way he always did when he was waiting, the ring slipperier than usual because a little soap had gotten under the band when he’d washed his hands coming back from the bathroom.

Like he’d done when Anna had been taken away to have an emergency C-section.

When she’d had to have the mastectomy.

When Jeremy had needed surgery on his broken arm.

And now that Anna was sick again, and Jeremy was only ten, and her father had died, he was hoping there was a will somewhere that no one knew about. A will that left something to Anna or Jeremy. Anything, really, would help.

But he felt almost dirty asking for help.

The man at the desk—he’d recognized the man’s voice when he’d said hello—had told him to fill out some paperwork and that they might not have to pay.

So he had.

And now the medium was going to meet with him, even though he couldn’t afford it.

He didn’t understand, but he was grateful.

But he was still nervous.

He really needed the money.

I remembered that man.He’d been near tears when he’d left, but they seemed to be… not happy, exactly, but hopeful, so I hoped that his wife’s father had told him where the will was and that they’d been left something in it that would help with his wife’s treatment.

And I was glad I’d had him fill out the grant forms, even though he wasn’t the usual type of client for whom we provided money. But Ward and Elsbeth Lefavre, the extremely wealthy owner of Lost Lineage Foundation, were often more generous than the strict terms they’d laid out for the Foundation’s grants. I knew that even without a grant, Ward wouldn’t have charged him anyway.

I took the ring that I’d picked up—which had rolled into a corner of the hallway leading to the bathroom—and carried it back to my desk, dropping it into one of the tiny little pits in the molded plastic of the drawer organizer that I had no idea what to put in. This, apparently.

I then quickly sent an email to Ross Vogt letting him know that I’d found his lost class ring and that he was welcome to stop by during our opening hours anytime to pick it up.

I’d settled into the rhythm of reconciling receipts, invoices, money put in from Lost Lineage, and general expenses. I wasn’t exactly a math guy, but there was something comforting about doing the reckoning of accounts, making the columns balance or—even better—resolve with Beyond the Veil coming out ‘in the black,’ as the phrase went.

Nobody else liked doing it, and while I wouldn’t say Ilikedit, exactly, I did get a lot of satisfaction from seeing it completed and knowing that I’d contributed to the companyin a meaningful way—one that didn’t actually involve death or murder or having to expend magical energy. Sometimes, that was nice.

So I was contentedly absorbed in my spreadsheets when the bell over the door rang, and I looked over, surprised. We didn’t have any appointments this afternoon, so I wasn’t expecting anyone.

It wasn’t any of the usual people who would come in unannounced, either—not Raj or Hart or Dan Maza.

It was a woman, her medium brown hair just starting to go grey, her pale skin flushed and greyish eyes bloodshot. And she wasn’t alone, although I wasn’t suresheknew that.

The ghost behind her had to have been related to her somehow—their faces had similar features, like flat cheekbones, wide-set pale eyes, full lips, a cleft chin. The woman pressed her lips together, clearly upset, and walked directly toward me, her eyes a little frantic as she pulled on a plain blue mask.

I pulled up my gaiter-style mask—I’d started wearing them so that they were already around my neck, just in case someone came in while I was moving around the offices and not at my desk. It was also more convenient for when someone came hurrying in and I had to react quickly.

“Hello, welcome to Beyond the Veil,” I said to her, trying to sound polite. “How can I help you?”