Moonshadow
Page 8
But she didn’t say that either. None of that was any of Kathryn’s business.
“That says something about the quality of your work. They don’t hire just anybody.” Kathryn asked, “What are you doing now?”
Trying to recover, to figure out what to do next with her life. Slowly panicking as the medical bills roll in and the money runs out. Consulting jobs didn’t come with paid sick leave.
To give herself time to reply, Sophie reached for her coffee and let the dark, roasted flavor roll over her tongue.
She said, “As it happens, I’m between contracts. I took a leave of absence from my consulting job. The LAPD wants me back, but I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to return.”
Kathryn leaned forward. “So you’re actually in a good position to consider taking this offer. Are you interested?”
Sophie glanced down at the pictures of the house again, and she wanted to go so badly she could taste the desire.
The house fascinated her. But more than that, she could have ninety more days to fully recuperate while she decided what to do next. She could put her things in storage so she wouldn’t have to pay rent while she was gone, which would stretch her current resources further.
If she wanted, she could even renew the search to see if she could discover anything more about her family and her past, although she wasn’t under any illusion about that. The Earl of Weston would have had significant contacts and resources to use in his searches, and she probably wouldn’t find anything more about her birth family than he had.
Old habit made her school her features in order to hide how much the offer meant to her.
“I don’t know,” she lied. “I need a few days to think it over.”
Even as she said it, she knew she was going to take the offer. Hell, she might even escape from whatever dark menace haunted her rune readings lately, along with the owner of that predatory, handsome face.
Or if she went, she could be running right toward it. Toward him.
Ah, well. You can’t fix stupid. And you can’t heal crazy.
Knowing that she might be running toward trouble wouldn’t stop her from going or confronting whatever fate awaited her. But it would at least make her somewhat more cautious than usual.
Hopefully.
From Kathryn’s pleased expression, Sophie could tell her prevarication hadn’t fooled the other woman in the slightest.
Kathryn told her smoothly, “Of course you should think it over. Take all the time you need.”
Chapter Two
As quickly as the image of the strange woman had appeared, it vanished again, dissipating on a curling breath of fog-filled air.
Nikolas spun on one heel as he looked sharply around the clearing, sword at the ready, but there was no further sign of attack. Heavy, aged oak trees surrounded an emerald lawn, interspersed with park benches. Not twenty meters away, the waist-high fieldstone fence that bordered the small park seemed as insubstantial as a shadow, as heavy fog pressed all around, blocking out the sun, limiting sight and muffling noise.
On the other side of the fence, traffic sounded heavy and distant. A male called out, and he tensed, but the voice sounded normal, cheerful. Oblivious.
“Came on bloody quick, that did!”
Another man shouted back, “Never seen a fog roll in so fast!”
“All this astonishment has given me a thirst. Meet you at the pub in fifteen?”
The second voice called out, “Aye!”
Dismissing the exchange as harmless, Nikolas turned his attention to the carnage he had wrought.
Four slain Hounds lay scattered around the small clearing, and killing them had not been neat or simple. On edge, muscles still leaping with the aftermath of combat, he studied their massive, fur-covered bodies. Each weighed eighteen, twenty stone easily. They looked like a cross between wolf and mastiff, and something else that was entirely monstrous.
Despite their size and weight, he knew from dark experience that they could run tirelessly for kilometers, track with relentless tenacity, and rend a body to pieces with long, knifelike claws and razored teeth.
Instinct urged him to leave the scene quickly while the unnatural fog still lingered and could mask his presence, but he held himself in check. As he waited, he bent to wipe his sword clean on the grass and slipped it back into the sheath he carried on a harness between his shoulders. When the blade slid home, he felt the spell on the sheath activate, cloaking both sword and sheath from sight.
His wait did not go unrewarded.
As he watched, the body of the nearest slain Hound shimmered and began to change. Bones realigned, fur disappeared, and the long, wicked muzzle shrank back until the monster had disappeared and a dead man lay in its place.
Once they had been killed, the Hounds always shifted back to their human forms.
With the toe of one boot, Nikolas flipped the body over and took in the dead man’s features. It was nobody he recognized. He searched the man’s clothes, pulling out everything and stuffing the contents into his pockets to examine later. As the bodies of the other Hounds shimmered and changed, he did the same to them.
None of the slain men were Morgan, but Nikolas already knew that. Morgan was infinitely more dangerous than these creatures and would be so much more difficult to kill.
Nikolas lived for the chance to be the one who accomplished that feat. If Morgan were killed, his death would be a massive blow to the Queen and her Hounds. His death could change the course of the war between the Light and the Dark Courts.
Magic sparked here and there in the items Nikolas took—a ring on one male’s finger, a medallion worn on a necklace on another. He took those items carefully, using a handkerchief to keep from touching them until he got a chance to examine them more closely.
“That says something about the quality of your work. They don’t hire just anybody.” Kathryn asked, “What are you doing now?”
Trying to recover, to figure out what to do next with her life. Slowly panicking as the medical bills roll in and the money runs out. Consulting jobs didn’t come with paid sick leave.
To give herself time to reply, Sophie reached for her coffee and let the dark, roasted flavor roll over her tongue.
She said, “As it happens, I’m between contracts. I took a leave of absence from my consulting job. The LAPD wants me back, but I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to return.”
Kathryn leaned forward. “So you’re actually in a good position to consider taking this offer. Are you interested?”
Sophie glanced down at the pictures of the house again, and she wanted to go so badly she could taste the desire.
The house fascinated her. But more than that, she could have ninety more days to fully recuperate while she decided what to do next. She could put her things in storage so she wouldn’t have to pay rent while she was gone, which would stretch her current resources further.
If she wanted, she could even renew the search to see if she could discover anything more about her family and her past, although she wasn’t under any illusion about that. The Earl of Weston would have had significant contacts and resources to use in his searches, and she probably wouldn’t find anything more about her birth family than he had.
Old habit made her school her features in order to hide how much the offer meant to her.
“I don’t know,” she lied. “I need a few days to think it over.”
Even as she said it, she knew she was going to take the offer. Hell, she might even escape from whatever dark menace haunted her rune readings lately, along with the owner of that predatory, handsome face.
Or if she went, she could be running right toward it. Toward him.
Ah, well. You can’t fix stupid. And you can’t heal crazy.
Knowing that she might be running toward trouble wouldn’t stop her from going or confronting whatever fate awaited her. But it would at least make her somewhat more cautious than usual.
Hopefully.
From Kathryn’s pleased expression, Sophie could tell her prevarication hadn’t fooled the other woman in the slightest.
Kathryn told her smoothly, “Of course you should think it over. Take all the time you need.”
Chapter Two
As quickly as the image of the strange woman had appeared, it vanished again, dissipating on a curling breath of fog-filled air.
Nikolas spun on one heel as he looked sharply around the clearing, sword at the ready, but there was no further sign of attack. Heavy, aged oak trees surrounded an emerald lawn, interspersed with park benches. Not twenty meters away, the waist-high fieldstone fence that bordered the small park seemed as insubstantial as a shadow, as heavy fog pressed all around, blocking out the sun, limiting sight and muffling noise.
On the other side of the fence, traffic sounded heavy and distant. A male called out, and he tensed, but the voice sounded normal, cheerful. Oblivious.
“Came on bloody quick, that did!”
Another man shouted back, “Never seen a fog roll in so fast!”
“All this astonishment has given me a thirst. Meet you at the pub in fifteen?”
The second voice called out, “Aye!”
Dismissing the exchange as harmless, Nikolas turned his attention to the carnage he had wrought.
Four slain Hounds lay scattered around the small clearing, and killing them had not been neat or simple. On edge, muscles still leaping with the aftermath of combat, he studied their massive, fur-covered bodies. Each weighed eighteen, twenty stone easily. They looked like a cross between wolf and mastiff, and something else that was entirely monstrous.
Despite their size and weight, he knew from dark experience that they could run tirelessly for kilometers, track with relentless tenacity, and rend a body to pieces with long, knifelike claws and razored teeth.
Instinct urged him to leave the scene quickly while the unnatural fog still lingered and could mask his presence, but he held himself in check. As he waited, he bent to wipe his sword clean on the grass and slipped it back into the sheath he carried on a harness between his shoulders. When the blade slid home, he felt the spell on the sheath activate, cloaking both sword and sheath from sight.
His wait did not go unrewarded.
As he watched, the body of the nearest slain Hound shimmered and began to change. Bones realigned, fur disappeared, and the long, wicked muzzle shrank back until the monster had disappeared and a dead man lay in its place.
Once they had been killed, the Hounds always shifted back to their human forms.
With the toe of one boot, Nikolas flipped the body over and took in the dead man’s features. It was nobody he recognized. He searched the man’s clothes, pulling out everything and stuffing the contents into his pockets to examine later. As the bodies of the other Hounds shimmered and changed, he did the same to them.
None of the slain men were Morgan, but Nikolas already knew that. Morgan was infinitely more dangerous than these creatures and would be so much more difficult to kill.
Nikolas lived for the chance to be the one who accomplished that feat. If Morgan were killed, his death would be a massive blow to the Queen and her Hounds. His death could change the course of the war between the Light and the Dark Courts.
Magic sparked here and there in the items Nikolas took—a ring on one male’s finger, a medallion worn on a necklace on another. He took those items carefully, using a handkerchief to keep from touching them until he got a chance to examine them more closely.
