Darkness Unbound
Page 21
“Look, I don’t know much.” His words tumbled over one another in his haste to get them out. “We got the job offer and took it. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“So you’re thugs for hire?”
“Not thugs,” he said. “We’re private investigators. Of sorts.”
They weren’t particular in the sorts of cases they took, in other words. “So you were asked to follow us? Then what?”
“Nothing. I swear, we were just asked to follow you and report back.”
“To whom?”
“He gave us a phone number. That’s all I know, honestly.”
I believed him. The stink of his fear rode the air, and there was too much horror in his eyes for there to be any room for lies.
“So how were you supposed to be paid?”
“He’s already deposited the money into our account.”
“What phone number did he give you?”
“I don’t know it by heart,” he said, seemingly unaware of the irony, “but grab my phone out of my right pocket. It’s there.”
I shifted my leg slightly and then, with my free hand, dragged his phone out of his pocket. I opened it up, brought up the contacts list, and glanced at him. “Which one?”
“It’s under Jones Job.”
I snorted softly. How original. I scrolled down, found the contact and the number, then closed his phone and shoved it into my pocket.
“Hey, that’s—”
“Mine,” I finished for him. “The price you pay for following the wrong people. Is the number they gave you to contact the same number the caller used?”
His lips twisted. “No. It came up as unlisted, but we ran a cracker program and got it, just in case.”
“Then give me that number, too.”
He did. I withdrew my hand from his chest and reformed my flesh, then patted his cheek with cold, somewhat shaky fingers. “Consider yourself lucky that I’m not taking anything more vital than a phone.”
With that, I rose. My limbs trembled and my head felt ready to explode, but I ignored both as I looked down at him. “If I catch you following me again, I won’t just threaten to squeeze your heart. I’ll rip it out of your f**king chest.” I paused, watching him. Watching the threat sink in. “Okay?”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it.”
I turned around and walked away, my footsteps echoing softly in the concrete emptiness surrounding us. I kept my head down, letting my hair swing over my face, and avoided looking at any of the cameras. I hit the stairwell but didn’t stop, scrambling down the stairs two at a time even though every step made the ache in my head and the turmoil in my stomach worse. As I neared the ground floor, the door was flung open and two laughing teenagers all but fell into the stairwell. They looked me up and down and snorted softly, distaste evident in their expressions. Which said a lot for the state of my clothes if a couple of kids barely wearing rags were giving me disgusted looks.
I headed out into the mall and quickly found a bathroom. A quick glimpse at the pale face in the mirror proved the teenagers were right to laugh, but I tore my gaze away and all but bolted for a stall—where I lost everything I’d eaten over the last day.
God, I’d put my hand in that man’s chest.
I’d felt his f**king heart beating.
My stomach heaved and I spent the next few minutes unable to think as my empty stomach kept trying to jump up my throat.
The reality of it was much more terrifying than the knowledge.
I hated that I could do it. Hated that I’d had to do it.
And yet I knew neither of those would stop me from doing it again if it meant getting answers to stop this madness and protect my friends.
I closed my eyes and breathed deep, and after a few minutes the trembling in my limbs eased and my stomach seemed less intent on reaching my throat. I flushed the toilet then opened the door. The face in the mirror was still pale, the violet eyes frightened.
But I had every right to be.
I splashed cold water over my face, then rinsed my mouth until the bitter taste had gone. I straightened my clothing as best I could, but there was little I could do about the frayed remains of my jeans or the holes shredding the bottom half of my sweater. I guess I had to be thankful that I even had something resembling clothing left.
I ran my fingers through my hair a final time, shook my head at how little difference it made, then left the bathroom and headed back to the car.
Lucian had moved the Ute, because it was now parked several houses up from the road work. He was leaning against the side, his arms crossed and his expression concerned. When his jade gaze met mine, the concern deepened. He uncrossed his arms and strode toward me.
“Fuck,” he said, stopping in front of me and placing his hands on my arms, as if to hold me upright. I wasn’t that weak. Not really. “Are you all right? You look as pale as a ghost.”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
He snorted. “You don’t look it.”
I placed a hand on his arm, letting the heat of him wash through me, warming the chill from my bones. “I had to take Aedh form to keep up with my felon. I don’t do it much, and I’m afraid this is the result.”
Which was the truth, but not the whole truth. I might have taken him as a lover, but that didn’t mean I trusted him completely. I’d made that mistake once before. I wasn’t about to repeat it.
“So you did get him?”
“Yeah, but he couldn’t tell me much. Apparently he just had to follow me and report back to a number his client gave him. He didn’t even know the client’s name.”
Lucian snorted and slid his touch to my elbow, lightly guiding me across to the Ute. “My felon said much the same. It doesn’t sound like a practical way to run a business, if you ask me.”
“They got paid. I guess that’s all that matters to them.”
He opened the door and I climbed in, closing my eyes in relief as the warm leather seats wrapped around me. Lucian slammed my door shut then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.
The big engine rumbled to life. Once he was back on the road, Lucian said, “Are you going to follow up the phone number?”
I kept my eyes closed. Though the day wasn’t bright, the sunlight made my headache worse. “Yeah, but I doubt it’ll come to anything. Whoever is behind all this is clever, and would no doubt have considered the possibility of me noticing the tail. I’m betting the phone number will lead to some sort of message service.”
“Message services don’t take anonymous clients.”
“No,” I said, “but it’s easy enough to grab fake IDs these days.”
He glanced at me and smiled—a heat I felt rather than saw. It shimmered through me like sunshine, warm and inviting. “And you know this because …?”
“Because I was once a teenager who used fake IDs to get into places I wasn’t supposed to be.”
He laughed, and something within me wanted to sigh in pleasure. “They could be using a prepaid cell.”
“I doubt it—if only because the number can still be traced.”
“Not if they dump it.”
“Which they can’t do if they want regular reports.”
“It seems you have an answer for everything.”
I smiled. “Only most of the time.”
He laughed again, and this time I did sigh. “Do you want help tracking down the number?” he asked. “I’m sure I could dig up a nefarious friend or two.”
“The boring investment adviser has nefarious friends?”
“No, but this incarnation of me has only been around for the last eight or nine years. I was something far less savory before this.”
I opened an eye and peered at him. “Like what?”
A grin teased his lips and crinkled the corners of his bright eyes. “A politician.”
“No!” I stared at him for a minute. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Of course, having to kiss babies got old really quickly. So I lost the election and retired gracefully from the scene.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.” He looked at me, eyes wide. “Google news reports for the Shire of Merredan. You’ll find several mentions of me.”
“And why would you be mentioned?”
“Because there was a severe lack of lovely half-Aedh up there, which meant I had no choice but to assuage my more earthy needs with local lasses.”
Lasses, plural. I smiled. “Just how many lasses are we talking about?”
“More than two. Less than ten.”
I laughed. It hurt my head, but I didn’t really care. “So that’s what lost you the election.”
“It wasn’t so much my lascivious tendencies, but rather the fact they included several married women.” He slowed the car and pulled into a parking spot, and I realized with surprise we’d arrived at my warehouse. He looked up at it for several seconds, then said, “It’s a lovely old building.”
“It’s lovely inside, but no one with any taste in architecture would call the outside lovely.” I undid my seat belt, then leaned across and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for an interesting afternoon.”
He smiled and ran his thumb down the side of my cheek. “My pleasure. In more ways than one.” His lips met mine, the kiss brief and yet intense. “Until midnight tomorrow.”
“Until then,” I said, and forced myself out of the car.
He left with a squeal of tires, the rumble of the big engine shaking the windows in the houses opposite. I smiled and headed up the stairs, typing in the key code, then peering into the scanner. The door clicked open, and Ilianna said from the kitchen, “About time!”
“Sorry,” I said, dumping my handbag on the couch, then making my way toward the bathroom. “And you were wrong about us being followed. They haven’t given up.”
Her head appeared around the kitchen doorway. “You all right?” Her gaze swept me, and she frowned. “God, you look like shit. Did they attack you?”
“No.” Quite the opposite. I waved a hand—the same hand that had been in that man’s chest. “I’m fine. I just need a shower.”
“Grab one, but fast. I need you to plate up the desserts ASAP. Everything else is ready to go.”
“Be there soon.”
I stripped off the remnants of my clothes and tossed them in the trash rather than the laundry chute, simply because there wasn’t enough left to wash. It took a good twenty minutes to get rid of the fibers stuck to my skin, but I was betting I’d still be pulling out bits over the next couple of days.
Once dressed, I helped Ilianna with the desserts, then grabbed some tape and wrapping paper from the cupboard we used to store such things and headed into my room to wrap Tao’s present. Only to discover two parcels sitting on the dresser rather than the expected one.
I frowned and picked them both up, looking at the postmarks. One was from England, which meant it was the rare cookbook I’d ordered. But the other had no identifying marks, no stamp, and no return address.
“When did this other parcel come in?” I shouted.
“Yesterday,” Ilianna replied.
“Did the same rat-faced courier deliver it?”
“No—why?”
“Because I wasn’t expecting a second parcel.”
“Maybe it’s from your Aedh lover.”
“Doubtful.” Aedh weren’t the sentimental type. From everything both Mom and Uncle Quinn had said, they basically just f**ked and left. And while Lucian might have been earthbound long enough to have the harsh edges rubbed off, I very much doubted he was the gift-giving type. Highly sexed, maybe, but not sentimental.
I placed the parcel containing Tao’s cookbook down on the dresser, then raised the other one. It smelled of cardboard and old leather. Frown deepening, I gave the parcel a quick shake. Nothing rattled. Whatever it was, it was well packed and heavy. I’d have to open it if I wanted to know what it was.
Carefully, I flipped it over and slid my nails under the tape holding it together, tearing it away from the cardboard. The end came apart, revealing bubble wrap and what looked to be the edges of a very old book. Maybe someone overseas had goofed and sent me two copies of the cookbook rather than one.
I undid the wrap. The book wasn’t a cookbook, and it was far older than the one I’d ordered. The binding was spiderwebbed with cracks, and the brown leather was so worn the color had faded in patches. The edges of the pages were yellow and frayed looking, and the scent rising from it was one of age and mustiness. There was no writing on the cover, and nothing on the spine.
Which was damn weird.
I opened it carefully. The leather binding creaked and dust puffed up, making my nose crinkle. The first two pages were blank, but the third had several sentences written on it. I didn’t recognize the language, and there was only one word that seemed to make sense—Dušan. The writing itself was scroll-like and beautiful, but the rest of it reminded me of the tattoos decorating Azriel’s neck.
Several more empty pages followed; then came a picture of what looked like a wingless, serpent-like dragon. Unlike anything else in this old book so far, the colors were vibrant and colorful, the serpentine form drawn with such skill that the tiny violet scales almost appeared to glow in the half-light of the room.
I touched it lightly, running my fingers down the jeweled spine and spiraled tail. It almost seemed warm, as if life really did pulse underneath the luminous paint.
“So you’re thugs for hire?”
“Not thugs,” he said. “We’re private investigators. Of sorts.”
They weren’t particular in the sorts of cases they took, in other words. “So you were asked to follow us? Then what?”
“Nothing. I swear, we were just asked to follow you and report back.”
“To whom?”
“He gave us a phone number. That’s all I know, honestly.”
I believed him. The stink of his fear rode the air, and there was too much horror in his eyes for there to be any room for lies.
“So how were you supposed to be paid?”
“He’s already deposited the money into our account.”
“What phone number did he give you?”
“I don’t know it by heart,” he said, seemingly unaware of the irony, “but grab my phone out of my right pocket. It’s there.”
I shifted my leg slightly and then, with my free hand, dragged his phone out of his pocket. I opened it up, brought up the contacts list, and glanced at him. “Which one?”
“It’s under Jones Job.”
I snorted softly. How original. I scrolled down, found the contact and the number, then closed his phone and shoved it into my pocket.
“Hey, that’s—”
“Mine,” I finished for him. “The price you pay for following the wrong people. Is the number they gave you to contact the same number the caller used?”
His lips twisted. “No. It came up as unlisted, but we ran a cracker program and got it, just in case.”
“Then give me that number, too.”
He did. I withdrew my hand from his chest and reformed my flesh, then patted his cheek with cold, somewhat shaky fingers. “Consider yourself lucky that I’m not taking anything more vital than a phone.”
With that, I rose. My limbs trembled and my head felt ready to explode, but I ignored both as I looked down at him. “If I catch you following me again, I won’t just threaten to squeeze your heart. I’ll rip it out of your f**king chest.” I paused, watching him. Watching the threat sink in. “Okay?”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it.”
I turned around and walked away, my footsteps echoing softly in the concrete emptiness surrounding us. I kept my head down, letting my hair swing over my face, and avoided looking at any of the cameras. I hit the stairwell but didn’t stop, scrambling down the stairs two at a time even though every step made the ache in my head and the turmoil in my stomach worse. As I neared the ground floor, the door was flung open and two laughing teenagers all but fell into the stairwell. They looked me up and down and snorted softly, distaste evident in their expressions. Which said a lot for the state of my clothes if a couple of kids barely wearing rags were giving me disgusted looks.
I headed out into the mall and quickly found a bathroom. A quick glimpse at the pale face in the mirror proved the teenagers were right to laugh, but I tore my gaze away and all but bolted for a stall—where I lost everything I’d eaten over the last day.
God, I’d put my hand in that man’s chest.
I’d felt his f**king heart beating.
My stomach heaved and I spent the next few minutes unable to think as my empty stomach kept trying to jump up my throat.
The reality of it was much more terrifying than the knowledge.
I hated that I could do it. Hated that I’d had to do it.
And yet I knew neither of those would stop me from doing it again if it meant getting answers to stop this madness and protect my friends.
I closed my eyes and breathed deep, and after a few minutes the trembling in my limbs eased and my stomach seemed less intent on reaching my throat. I flushed the toilet then opened the door. The face in the mirror was still pale, the violet eyes frightened.
But I had every right to be.
I splashed cold water over my face, then rinsed my mouth until the bitter taste had gone. I straightened my clothing as best I could, but there was little I could do about the frayed remains of my jeans or the holes shredding the bottom half of my sweater. I guess I had to be thankful that I even had something resembling clothing left.
I ran my fingers through my hair a final time, shook my head at how little difference it made, then left the bathroom and headed back to the car.
Lucian had moved the Ute, because it was now parked several houses up from the road work. He was leaning against the side, his arms crossed and his expression concerned. When his jade gaze met mine, the concern deepened. He uncrossed his arms and strode toward me.
“Fuck,” he said, stopping in front of me and placing his hands on my arms, as if to hold me upright. I wasn’t that weak. Not really. “Are you all right? You look as pale as a ghost.”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
He snorted. “You don’t look it.”
I placed a hand on his arm, letting the heat of him wash through me, warming the chill from my bones. “I had to take Aedh form to keep up with my felon. I don’t do it much, and I’m afraid this is the result.”
Which was the truth, but not the whole truth. I might have taken him as a lover, but that didn’t mean I trusted him completely. I’d made that mistake once before. I wasn’t about to repeat it.
“So you did get him?”
“Yeah, but he couldn’t tell me much. Apparently he just had to follow me and report back to a number his client gave him. He didn’t even know the client’s name.”
Lucian snorted and slid his touch to my elbow, lightly guiding me across to the Ute. “My felon said much the same. It doesn’t sound like a practical way to run a business, if you ask me.”
“They got paid. I guess that’s all that matters to them.”
He opened the door and I climbed in, closing my eyes in relief as the warm leather seats wrapped around me. Lucian slammed my door shut then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.
The big engine rumbled to life. Once he was back on the road, Lucian said, “Are you going to follow up the phone number?”
I kept my eyes closed. Though the day wasn’t bright, the sunlight made my headache worse. “Yeah, but I doubt it’ll come to anything. Whoever is behind all this is clever, and would no doubt have considered the possibility of me noticing the tail. I’m betting the phone number will lead to some sort of message service.”
“Message services don’t take anonymous clients.”
“No,” I said, “but it’s easy enough to grab fake IDs these days.”
He glanced at me and smiled—a heat I felt rather than saw. It shimmered through me like sunshine, warm and inviting. “And you know this because …?”
“Because I was once a teenager who used fake IDs to get into places I wasn’t supposed to be.”
He laughed, and something within me wanted to sigh in pleasure. “They could be using a prepaid cell.”
“I doubt it—if only because the number can still be traced.”
“Not if they dump it.”
“Which they can’t do if they want regular reports.”
“It seems you have an answer for everything.”
I smiled. “Only most of the time.”
He laughed again, and this time I did sigh. “Do you want help tracking down the number?” he asked. “I’m sure I could dig up a nefarious friend or two.”
“The boring investment adviser has nefarious friends?”
“No, but this incarnation of me has only been around for the last eight or nine years. I was something far less savory before this.”
I opened an eye and peered at him. “Like what?”
A grin teased his lips and crinkled the corners of his bright eyes. “A politician.”
“No!” I stared at him for a minute. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Of course, having to kiss babies got old really quickly. So I lost the election and retired gracefully from the scene.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.” He looked at me, eyes wide. “Google news reports for the Shire of Merredan. You’ll find several mentions of me.”
“And why would you be mentioned?”
“Because there was a severe lack of lovely half-Aedh up there, which meant I had no choice but to assuage my more earthy needs with local lasses.”
Lasses, plural. I smiled. “Just how many lasses are we talking about?”
“More than two. Less than ten.”
I laughed. It hurt my head, but I didn’t really care. “So that’s what lost you the election.”
“It wasn’t so much my lascivious tendencies, but rather the fact they included several married women.” He slowed the car and pulled into a parking spot, and I realized with surprise we’d arrived at my warehouse. He looked up at it for several seconds, then said, “It’s a lovely old building.”
“It’s lovely inside, but no one with any taste in architecture would call the outside lovely.” I undid my seat belt, then leaned across and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for an interesting afternoon.”
He smiled and ran his thumb down the side of my cheek. “My pleasure. In more ways than one.” His lips met mine, the kiss brief and yet intense. “Until midnight tomorrow.”
“Until then,” I said, and forced myself out of the car.
He left with a squeal of tires, the rumble of the big engine shaking the windows in the houses opposite. I smiled and headed up the stairs, typing in the key code, then peering into the scanner. The door clicked open, and Ilianna said from the kitchen, “About time!”
“Sorry,” I said, dumping my handbag on the couch, then making my way toward the bathroom. “And you were wrong about us being followed. They haven’t given up.”
Her head appeared around the kitchen doorway. “You all right?” Her gaze swept me, and she frowned. “God, you look like shit. Did they attack you?”
“No.” Quite the opposite. I waved a hand—the same hand that had been in that man’s chest. “I’m fine. I just need a shower.”
“Grab one, but fast. I need you to plate up the desserts ASAP. Everything else is ready to go.”
“Be there soon.”
I stripped off the remnants of my clothes and tossed them in the trash rather than the laundry chute, simply because there wasn’t enough left to wash. It took a good twenty minutes to get rid of the fibers stuck to my skin, but I was betting I’d still be pulling out bits over the next couple of days.
Once dressed, I helped Ilianna with the desserts, then grabbed some tape and wrapping paper from the cupboard we used to store such things and headed into my room to wrap Tao’s present. Only to discover two parcels sitting on the dresser rather than the expected one.
I frowned and picked them both up, looking at the postmarks. One was from England, which meant it was the rare cookbook I’d ordered. But the other had no identifying marks, no stamp, and no return address.
“When did this other parcel come in?” I shouted.
“Yesterday,” Ilianna replied.
“Did the same rat-faced courier deliver it?”
“No—why?”
“Because I wasn’t expecting a second parcel.”
“Maybe it’s from your Aedh lover.”
“Doubtful.” Aedh weren’t the sentimental type. From everything both Mom and Uncle Quinn had said, they basically just f**ked and left. And while Lucian might have been earthbound long enough to have the harsh edges rubbed off, I very much doubted he was the gift-giving type. Highly sexed, maybe, but not sentimental.
I placed the parcel containing Tao’s cookbook down on the dresser, then raised the other one. It smelled of cardboard and old leather. Frown deepening, I gave the parcel a quick shake. Nothing rattled. Whatever it was, it was well packed and heavy. I’d have to open it if I wanted to know what it was.
Carefully, I flipped it over and slid my nails under the tape holding it together, tearing it away from the cardboard. The end came apart, revealing bubble wrap and what looked to be the edges of a very old book. Maybe someone overseas had goofed and sent me two copies of the cookbook rather than one.
I undid the wrap. The book wasn’t a cookbook, and it was far older than the one I’d ordered. The binding was spiderwebbed with cracks, and the brown leather was so worn the color had faded in patches. The edges of the pages were yellow and frayed looking, and the scent rising from it was one of age and mustiness. There was no writing on the cover, and nothing on the spine.
Which was damn weird.
I opened it carefully. The leather binding creaked and dust puffed up, making my nose crinkle. The first two pages were blank, but the third had several sentences written on it. I didn’t recognize the language, and there was only one word that seemed to make sense—Dušan. The writing itself was scroll-like and beautiful, but the rest of it reminded me of the tattoos decorating Azriel’s neck.
Several more empty pages followed; then came a picture of what looked like a wingless, serpent-like dragon. Unlike anything else in this old book so far, the colors were vibrant and colorful, the serpentine form drawn with such skill that the tiny violet scales almost appeared to glow in the half-light of the room.
I touched it lightly, running my fingers down the jeweled spine and spiraled tail. It almost seemed warm, as if life really did pulse underneath the luminous paint.
