A woman with a heart-shaped face and cupid’s bow lips brushed my arm with her hand as I passed. “Help us …”
And then I was out on the street, gulping in the fresh air.
Henri stood facing the way we’d come, his trench coat gently flapping in the breeze. He looked like an avenging angel. “Kat, look.”
I straightened and looked over my shoulder. The bar was gone.
Chapter Two
My grandfather’s mobile rang and rang and then went to voicemail. He’d probably left it in his bedchamber again. “Dammit, Gramps, mobile phones are there so people can get hold of you wherever you are.”
“Bedside table?” Tris said.
“Probably.” I tucked the phone back into the pocket of my leather jacket. “Are we there yet?”
We were on a dark, twisty road that led out of the center of town toward an industrial estate.
Henri swung the car onto a narrow dirt track. “Almost.”
The golem was a walking, talking GPS. He could probably find a needle in a haystack if needed. There was no getting lost with Henri in tow. Whatever magick they’d used to sew him together was some powerful stuff. Every Nightblood had a golem. They acted as our eyes and ears during the sunlight hours when we preferred not to go out. Sunlight rendered us weak, it rendered us killable. The humans had the myth almost right, but we didn’t burn to a crisp in sunlight, no, we just became mortal. Not a great feeling.
Henri did the shit that needed doing during the day. The guy didn’t need sleep and was on guard twenty-four seven. I wondered for the hundredth time what energy they’d used to power him? What creature’s soul gave him strength? That was something the weavers didn’t tell us. They wove the golems into being, but the ingredients for each were a closely guarded secret. Henri was my third golem. I’d outgrown the first two and Gramps had commissioned something new, something more powerful. Something to keep me safe out on mission once I graduated from the Academy.
Yeah, he hadn’t been keen on me joining the Nightwatch, but as a member of the Justice family, it was kinda my duty to carry the torch, so to speak.
“We’re here,” Henri said.
Scorchwood Prison rose up to meet us, an imposing structure with turrets and peaks and gothic architecture—features I didn’t know the names for but would need to look up at some point. The inside was probably rib-vaulted ceilings—yep, I knew that one. But what did the human eye see when it looked at this place? Probably a warehouse or dilapidated building. Cast iron gates blocked our path to the main house. Henri brought the car to a smooth halt.
“Well,” Tris said. “Look at this place. Beautiful.”
“Old and crumbling, more like,” Henri muttered.
Our last assignment had been at Ravensheart Prison, a high-tech establishment that had been all clean lines and bay windows on the upper floors and neat white cells and shatterproof glass cells at basement level. I sighed. This was going to be a transition, but then what could we expect in a town that no one seemed to have even heard of.
Why Gramps had sent me here had to be to do with the ghost issue. There was no other possible reason, and as soon as he called me back, I’d get some answers.
I looked to Henri. “Okay, watch my six while I press the hidden intercom.”
I got out of the car and crunched my way across gravel to the gates, scanning them for some entry system. Nothing. Great. What were we supposed to do? Shout? And then I spotted glowing eyes in the dark. They gleamed like twin flames as they grew near.
My hand went instinctively to the blade at my waistband, but then a figure came into view, broad, tall, and stark naked. Shaggy black hair and menacing dark brows and a mulish expression completed his look. My gaze went south over hard abs down to a pronounced V and then scurried north.
Whoa, that was some impressive baggage.
He glared at me as if the fact he was standing naked in freezing temperatures was somehow my fault, and then he grabbed hold of the gates and pulled. They swung open easily.
He turned and began to walk off, his huge body becoming one with the shadows and melting away.
Well, that was some visual greeting.
I shoved the gates wide open and then strode back to the car.
Tris wound down her window. “Did you see his—”
“Yes.” I cut her off.
“Stunning work,” she said.
* * *
Tris was a connoisseur of everything cock.
I shook my head and shut the door. “Let’s get inside and try and hope we don’t have to stay here long enough to make ourselves at home.”
Henri gunned the engine, and we rolled up the drive.
Gothic was a favorite style of the Nightbloods. It probably reminded them of a better time, one when humans had believed whatever lies we’d spun them, one when magick had been strong. They’d lived in castles and mansions and owned vast amounts of land. They still owned land, except now the humans who lived on it didn’t look up to them. Gramps would have loved this place.
I stared up at the ominous building as it reached up to the sky. The moon was high and full and round, and all we needed was some rain and a flash or two of lightning to complete the horror effect.
Henri exited the vehicle, and Tris climbed up my leg and settled on my shoulder. Lights burned in the upper-floor windows, but the lower floor was dark as doom. We climbed the cracked stone steps and stepped under the awning. A huge door knocker greeted us—wide googly eyes and a rubbery mouth holding an iron ring.
Tris shuddered. “Poor bastard. Wonder how long he’s had that thing stuck in his mouth. I can think of much more pleasant things to be sucking on.”
I paused, hand partway to the ring. “He’s alive?”
She huffed. “What have I taught you, missy? There’s life in everything. He just happens to be inert.”
In other words, he wasn’t about to start gabbing away at any moment. I grabbed the ring and knocked thrice. No idea why that seemed appropriate, and no idea why I expected the door to creak open to admit me into a set straight out of an old vampire movie. Urgh, those things were so offensive, and the term humans used, vampire, so dated.
The door, in fact, did creak open, and the man with the fire eyes stood on the doorstep. This close he was almost two heads taller than me, but that wasn’t hard considering my five-foot-three height. He was almost equal in size to Henri, which was saying something.
He looked down on me, grunted, and then turned his back on us and padded into the house. At least he was clothed. T-shirt and butt-hugging jeans, real snug.
“Oh, my,” Tris said, her voice a little too breathless.
He pointed at a door to our left. “Wait there.” His voice was gruff and sounded unused. And then he vanished down the corridor and through a door that led to the back of the mansion.
“The welcoming committee leaves much to be desired,” Henri said. “You’d think he’d ask for our credentials before admitting us into the inner sanctum.”
The door the hulking man had indicated was a double door set in a pointed arch. The wood was dark and rich, and iron was etched into the grain in fleurs-de-lis. The hinges were iron, and so was the handle. Nice.
The room beyond was dark wooden floors and dark-red rugs. Brown leather sofas surrounded a deep-set fireplace crackling merrily with orange flames. Two low tables were strategically placed between the sofas, and a couple of wooden chairs hung out by the frosted glass and iron-veined windows. The walls were bare brick by the fireplace and plaster elsewhere, and an impressive chandelier hung from the ceiling.
“The guy said wait, so we wait.” I shrugged off my jacket and took a seat.
Tris curled up beside me and pulled her book out from nowhere. It was a different one from the book she’d been reading in the car, a dog-eared copy of one of her favorites. It opened on one of her favorite passages, and her eyes lit up.
I swear she had an invisible stone pocket somewhere on her person, either that or
those books were kept up her—
“Nice room,” Henri said.
He stationed himself by the door, hands clasped in front of him. His body rippled as he reinforced his glamour, so it was strong enough to fool supe eyes. Damn, I forgot how hot he was when painted in color. His eyes were the kind of blue that made you want to strip naked and take a dip, and his hair looked like golden rays had been woven into every strand. He caught me staring, and his brows went up.
I looked away quickly. He wasn’t real, he was a thing, a construct that could be unraveled with a single word. A word only the weaver who’d created him knew.
Voices drifted through the partially open lounge door, a deep, drawling comment that I didn’t quite catch was followed by a sultry laugh, and then the doors opened, and an athletic woman strode in. Her hair was cut short in a funky red pixie cut, slanted eyes and a full mouth spoke of oriental ancestry, and her clothes hugged her like a second skin. Knee-high boots that begged to be coveted hugged her calves.
She stopped at the sight of us and planted a hand on a slender hip. “Well, hello there, new recruit.”
I pulled myself up to my full height and looked into her hazel eyes. “Kat Justice, this is Henri, and that’s Tris.”
She glanced at Henri. “You’re a Nightblood. Wait … Justice? As in the Justices?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “About fucking time. Hey Kris, check out who the Nightwatch sent us.”
A tall, slender man with sharp, inquisitive features and a snarky mouth entered the room. His dark hair was long and fell like silk to his shoulders, framing his face becomingly. He was wearing a dark shirt and dark jeans, and the sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to expose his tanned, toned forearms. Silver cuffs glinted at his wrists, and my guard was immediately up. Those cuffs meant only one thing. The man was a demon.
What the fuck was he doing working for the Nightwatch? Demon stays were short term and registered using visas. If demons did cross over and ended up staying past their visa limits, the Watch caught wind quickly and acted to either send them packing or, in rare cases, integrate them using the cuffs.
The cuffs were a muter, a way to ensure the demon couldn’t get up to any serious mischief and damage the glamour that kept our world in balance; they also drew enough magic from the atmosphere to allow the demon to glamour itself, because the natural glamour that worked for supes who belonged on this plane didn’t work so well for the higher-level creatures from the demonic plane, especially if they remained on this plane for an extended period of time. It eventually recognized them as a foreign body and stopped shielding them. The cuffs were the little assistance they needed.
Yeah, the Nightwatch did all of that for a higher-level demon, but this was the first time I’d ever heard of them employing one. Damn.
The demon studied me with eyes that reminded me of mercury and lightning, and then he smiled. “Ah, a new toy to play with.”
“No, a Justice,” the woman said. “The Watch finally pulled their fingers out. It seems Jay’s letter worked.”
The man snorted. “Either that or she’s useless, and they’ve just sent her over to shut us up.”
The woman frowned at me. “Are you useless?”
I smiled. “Only first thing at sunset when I haven’t had my coffee.”
Her frown eased a bit. “We don’t have time for a trainee. You know the ropes?”
Seriously? “Did you not get notification of who I am?”
“No, but I did.” Another man entered the room. Tall, broad-shouldered with chestnut hair laced with gold and eyes like warm honey, he was easy on the eyes. Speaking of eyes, his were framed by lashes too dark to be natural, in a face that was both austere and intelligent.
“I’m Jay, the head watchman here at Scorchwood, and yes, I know who you are and what you can do. We’re pleased to have you.”
“Care to fill us in?” the woman asked with only a hint of sarcasm.
Jay moved over to a rope hanging from a pulley system and gave it a tug, and as if recognizing this as some signal, the other two claimed seats. The silver-eyed dude, Kris, took a chair by the window, and the woman sank into a single-seater sofa and kicked her legs up onto a footstool.
Those boots … wow. Four-inch heels. How did she run in those, let alone fight?
“Practice.” She smirked.
I looked up at her sharply.
“I can read your face. You like?” She lifted a leg and turned her ankle to showcase the leather.
There was no denying it. “I love.”
She grinned a pointy-chinned, kitten grin, showcasing dainty teeth. “My name’s Mai, and I think we’re going to get on fine.”
“Because she loves your boots?” Kris asked with amusement.
“Because she has better taste than you,” Mai retorted.
“I doubt it.”
The door opened, and a short, slender man clipped in carrying a silver tea tray. His hair was dark and neatly parted to the side, and his black shirt and trousers were immaculately pressed. He set the tray on the table and then retreated without a word.
Jay waved a hand at the tea things. “You must be thirsty.”
I arched a brow. “If I’m thirsty, tea’s the last thing I’d drink, but—”
“Which is why Emmet has provided you with something a little more appropriate to your needs.” The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “He has the ability to know what everyone needs at any given time.”
I took a closer look at the tray and saw the blood bag. Shit, I’d have preferred tea, because unlike regular Nightbloods, who only ate for show at functions and then chucked it up later, my body could absorb everyday food and drink fine. But I’d been taught to put on a face—the must-have-blood façade. Even though I could go weeks between feeds, I’d have to drink the bagged blood and like it.
I suppressed a shudder. Bagged blood was so yuck. I preferred to catch and release, but when in Scorchwood…
I snagged the bag from the tray. “Mmmm, bottoms up.” I popped the plastic tube in my mouth and sucked.
Warm, just as if it were from the vein. Oh, God, it was delicious, and what do you know, just the ticket for a pick-me-up. Go, Emmet.
“Oh, gag,” Mai said.
“Mai!” Jay admonished.
I grinned, showcasing bloody teeth. “Why don’t you sip on your Earl Grey and stop judging?”
She laughed. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“I think it’s sexy,” demon guy said. “You have the sucking action perfected.” Jay shot him a stony look, and Kris shrugged. “You need to invest in a sense of humor.”
It was Tris who finally abandoned her book and began to prepare the tea. “You sit there like rocks, and you call me the gargoyle,” she muttered. “Good tea will go to waste. You need to drink it while it’s hot. Best way.” She peered up at Mai. “How do you like it?”
Mai blinked down at her and then back up at me. “Why did you bring a gargoyle?”
My neck heated every time I got this question, but I’d just drained a bag of blood, and so my cheeks would be flushed regardless.
“Tris is my companion.”
“Companion?”
Tris glared at Mai. “Use that tone around me one more time, missy…”
Mai made an “o” with her mouth, took the proffered cup, and sat back in her seat.
Yes, well, you didn’t mess with Tris. She’d been with me ever since I could remember. There’d been a time of twisted nightmares and sleepless nights, but when Tris had arrived, all that had gone away.
Kris shook his head when Tris offered him a cup, but Jay took his, milk no sugar. He studied me with curiosity over the rim of the cup, but then schooled his expression into something polite and unprobing when I caught him watching me.
“So,” Kris said. “What are your credentials?”
It was Henri who spoke. “Kat is Jacque Justice’s granddaughter. She is proficient with both daggers and unarmed combat as well a
s the use of a variety of ranged weaponry. Snark and witty comebacks are her forte, she has a slightly over-inflated sense of self-worth and a mini-god complex, and she’s been in the Nightwatch for the last three years stationed at Ravensheart Prison.”
Fucker, he had to add his two pence, didn’t he? I shot him a glare which he pointedly ignored.
Mai grinned at Henri. “I like it. I’ll do Kris. He’s a full-of-himself demon with the ability to turn a mundane situation into a potentially life-threatening one. Egotistical, not to mention vain, but if you want someone to have your back in the field, then he’s not half bad.”
Kris sat forward in his seat, lips curved in a thin smile but eyes flashing dangerously. “Mai is a self-professed fashionista with very little real fashion sense and a penchant for getting stabby at the slightest provocation.”
Mai made a sound of indignation and narrowed her eyes.
“But,” Kris continued. “She makes a mean chicken curry, and when in battle, her stabby arm could save your life.”
Mai smiled sweetly and shrugged. “I’m also handy with a whip.” She winked at Henri, who just stared at her impassively.
She did realize he was a golem, right? Maybe he should take off the glamour? I tried to catch his eye, but he was still in a gaze-off with Mai.
I took a shuddering breath and looked to Jay. “And you?”
“I run the place,” he said simply.
The others didn’t offer up any insights as to his character. Great, I’d have to suss him out myself. “What I don’t understand is what I’m doing here.” That was a lie, because of the ghosts, but hey, I was testing the water.
Something dark flashed across Jay’s face, but it was gone too quickly for me to decipher.
“You’re here because we need the manpower.”
“Here? In this arse end of nowhere place?”
Jay smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “This arse end of nowhere place is the most haunted place in the whole of the country, and because it sits on a cluster of ley lines, we attract all kinds of trouble. Our prison was heaving until an hour ago when we transferred the inmates out. But come the end of the month, we’ll be full again. You name it, and it comes through here.”
A Ghost of a Chance: The Nightwatch book 1 Page 2