“Cash would be nice, so I’m not killing myself here. I don’t dare use any of my cards. They would be too easy to track and then they’d find out I’m still in the city.” Selia twisted the phone cord around her hand. It wasn’t like anyone else would see how nervous she was.
She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “You do good work for me. I’ll bring you some cash. See you in two hours.”
Two hours later, Selia was sitting in the middle of one of the beds, legs crossed, and hands curled gently against her knees. Her eyes were closed, and she was chanting in a hauntingly beautiful voice in her native tongue. A knock on the door had her rolling off the bed in a single fluid movement. Her hand went to her hip, and she realized belatedly she was in a hotel room waiting for Soren to arrive. Even more odd was the fact she had reached for a weapon, something she very rarely used, let alone wore outside of hunting or the shooting range.
Perhaps her former life on Temeria, where everyone carried a weapon, was starting to influence her once again. Strange how using her magic to protect herself was bringing back more lessons and instincts than anything else she’d encountered within the city.
Walking to the door, ignoring the strange turn of her thoughts, she heard Soren speaking in accented Temerian. He was giving her the old password they had contrived shortly after she had stepped foot on his ship asking for safety.
Your family is the homeland of your heart. She was now starting to understand what those words meant, even if she didn’t know why he had made that the ‘password’ to prove it was him, should the need ever arise.
She opened the door, a grin on her face. “I never expected to be so happy to hear that phrase.” She chuckled. “You did say I would need it one day.”
Soren smiled and stepped into the room. He waited until she’d shut and locked the door behind him. “Yet you whined when I insisted upon it.”
Shrugging, she had no response to that fact. Without seeming too brash, she grabbed her bag and dropped it as she pulled out the computer. She had the laptop open and booting before her duffle bag hit the floor.
“I haven’t seen you move that fast since the day you stopped hiding on the ship, too afraid to come out for anything more than a late-night stalking,” Soren commented, causing Selia to flush.
“You told me it wasn’t something a normal person could do,” Selia replied as she typed in her password. “But you always helped me better myself. I still don’t understand why, though.”
“I also spent a great deal of time educating you on how much you would need to hide your abilities,” Soren retorted, but kindly. “I often wonder what you do on your own time. Such skills and abilities will atrophy if not used. That would be a crime and an insult to your heritage.”
There wasn’t a lot she did that Soren didn’t know about. One of the few secrets she kept from him was her archery. Marksmanship with guns was something a person could learn and improve upon quickly and easily. Skill at a bow wasn’t quite the same, though, and Selia had been taught from the moment she could walk how to use a bow. Her frequent camping trips had often been to go hunting. She tracked her prey with nothing more than her bow, a quiver full of arrows, and dangerously sharp knives.
She’d even purchased a license to hunt and fish without raising questions. Fishing, apparently, was an allowed hobby for a woman. She’d been ‘allowed’ to go hunting with a couple of the Family’s enforcers before she turned eighteen and had earned herself a reputation as an expert hunter.
There had never been a question, at least to her, as to whether or not Soren had risked a lot for her. That somehow made everything that happened now, matter more than ever. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the drive and connected it. A minute later she was copying everything to her laptop.
“Why are you doing that?” Soren asked, settling onto the edge of the bed.
Selia glanced over to her father. “In case anything happens to you, gods forbid it does, I’ll have leverage.”
“Smart girl. That’s one of the reasons why I like you,” he teased. Reaching into the inside of his jacket pocket, he pulled out a stack of bills. He held it out. “There’s two thousand here. It’s not a loan.”
Selia stared at the hand holding the bills and took it almost reverently. Staring at it, she didn’t notice him pull out more items from his pocket.
“Use this to rent yourself a car. Don’t trust public transportation. Keep in disguise.” He paused as she took it, his other hand grasping hers as he grinned. “I think you’d look amazing as a blond.”
Laughing, Selia leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You already think I look beautiful.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t recognize you as a blond,” he countered, a twinkle in his brown eyes.
Shaking her head, Selia took a moment to really look at Soren. He was smiling and teasing her as he always had, but there was something different about him. His dark brown hair was slowly turning to a dashing salt-and-pepper. His face still held the same lines she’d known ten years ago, but his brown eyes were harder, and fury burned in their depths. He was handsome, charming, and could have been her father by blood.
But today he wore a black suit with a dark gray crisp shirt and a black tie. His shoes, polished and black, shone. For some odd reason, though, he reminded her of someone going to a funeral. Perhaps it was the black suit, along with the anger that wafted off him in red hot waves. Typically, he wore dark blue or light gray suits. Or, it could have been the fact there was a harder set about his jaw and he moved with the determination of someone set to kill. Despite the darker colors, and his hidden fury, he still didn’t look as though he were in his late fifties.
Until now, she’d never questioned his age, or his heritage. She knew the rumors surrounding him that claimed he had a little bit of ‘other’ blood in him. Now she wondered if, perhaps, he had a little Temerian in him as well. Her people lived for centuries. At least, on the island they did, but her aging hadn’t changed her appearance, so she guessed it was true for those off the island as well.
“I’ll contact you in twenty-four hours,” Soren said after she took the documents, interrupting her troublesome thoughts. “Keep low and be careful.”
“I promise.” Setting the items beside the laptop, she pulled the drive and handed it to him. “Was this sanctioned by Al?”
Do I need to worry about more people coming after me? She didn’t say it, but she let the question shine in her eyes.
Soren shook his head, a frown on his face. “Al didn’t know about anything. He likes you, Selia. You should know that, though I don’t blame you for asking that question.” He tucked the drive into the inside pocket of his jacket where he’d pulled out the money and her fake ID. “Don’t worry about it, Selia. I’ll handle this and you’ll be home soon.”
A gut instinct told Selia it wouldn’t be that easy, but she ignored it. Trust was hard for her to give, but she trusted Soren with her life. She had always trusted him with her life and always would. Soren wouldn’t let her down; he always kept his promises and his word.
She offered him a small smile. “I’ll stay here until I hear from you.”
Standing, Soren enveloped her in a hug. She surprised herself by not stiffening up or feeling as though she needed to push away from him, like she had many times before. This time, she hugged him back, thankful to have him in her life.
She’d been shy and skittish when she’d first met him, and Soren hadn’t tried to change her into what was ‘expected’ by his society. He gave her distance, which meant hugs and kisses had been few and far between. They had become more frequent in the past couple years, but they weren’t an everyday, or even weekly, occurrence. Not that she had never been on the receiving end of his affection; quite the contrary. She just hadn’t allowed herself to truly appreciate it until she knew for certain he wouldn’t betray her. Now, though, she appreciated the daughterly affection he offered, and she craved it.
She hugged him back, he
r arms tightening around him as she snuggled against his chest, like a daughter who hadn’t seen her father in months, or even years. He was armed. She could feel the holster and grip of the gun beneath her, but that was normal. What wasn’t normal was the hardness beneath his shirt, not that she would ask about that, either. Nope, she was going to enjoy this moment for as long as it would last. Besides, it was probably Kevlar and nothing to worry about. At least, not for her.
Chapter Four
M editation was often a wonderful relaxing technique for the body and mind, but Selia discovered it only worked when one wasn’t worrying about someone. For three hours, she tried to calm her nerves using various methods, and nothing worked. She tried hot chocolate, a long soak in the hotel’s tub, complete with bubbles, then a hot shower, stretching exercises, and finally meditation. Nothing calmed her.
Soren should have contacted her two hours ago, but so far, nothing. Since nothing was helping her to relax enough to sit patiently and await his call or arrival, she turned to pacing the length of the room and glaring at the non-ringing phone. She had changed into a dark burgundy blouse cut so low she was afraid to bend over for fear of her ample cleavage falling out, skin-tight black jeans, and black boots.
They weren’t the high-heeled style, either. These had wide, thick heels with heavy tread, and fit her snugly to just below the knees. The leather boots were supple and allowed for easy movement. In fact, the jeans allowed her to move easily, as did the blouse- even if it did have a dangerous neckline. Though, it certainly wasn’t an outfit she would have chosen, which was probably why Soren had shoved it into her gym bag.
Even though she hoped there would be no need for it, she had also shrugged into her shoulder holster with the 9mm Glock snapped into place. A gift from Soren years ago, she kept the semi-automatic in her gym bag. Fortunately, Soren apparently hadn’t seen a reason to deprive her of the gift.
A tap at the window broke her train of thought and she turned towards the balcony, gun in hand. Not seeing anyone, she walked cautiously towards the window, finger near the trigger, and pulled the curtain back. She dropped her arm and rolled her eyes as she opened the door.
“What are you doing here?” she all but demanded as the Sandman stepped into the room.
“May I use your bathroom?” he asked instead, a smirk in his voice as he removed his sunglasses.
To pass time the night before, Selia had done internet search after internet search looking for articles of the Sandman’s outfit. Kind of obsessive, she supposed, but it helped to kill time. She had discovered, amongst other things, a brand of sunglasses that matched what he wore. She was now convinced they were infrared sunglasses, capable of being worn in any light situation, and he was wearing a lot of Kevlar.
“Sure, it’s that way,” she replied, thumbing towards the direction of the bathroom. “Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
He was a lot more dashing than scary in the dim light of the hotel room. His eyes were dark and still shadowed, but she could see his mask better and the change of his features beneath the fabric. He had a broad chest, his other features were similarly more fitting to someone sprinting down a playing field for a living, or into burning buildings. He’d have to be, to be able to do what he did. A study in all black, she couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like beneath his disguise.
He chuckled and this time it was one of genuine amusement. “Actually, I’m here to rescue you. Again.”
“Uh huh,” Selia replied, as she glanced towards the still-silent phone. “Why would I need rescuing?”
“I liked you better as a brunette,” he said, passing by her on the way to the bathroom. A flush, and a couple minutes later, he walked out holding a small hand towel.
Selia pulled the wig off, her hair pinned down in tiny, dainty, flattened curls. “It’s a wig. I was trying to get used to wearing it.”
“Glad you didn’t cut it. You look good with long hair.” He grinned, taking the shoulder-length blond wig from her hand, and examining it. His smile faltered when he tossed the wig back to her as he went to the door. “I found Soren. He was almost unrecognizable. Someone beat him to a pulp and left him for dead.”
Selia gasped and felt the color drain from her face. He glanced back at her and when she didn’t say anything, he nodded once and continued speaking, his voice low and even.
“His jaw was broken, busted ribs, broken arms, internal bleeding. He was shot as well, before being left. Would have been dead, too, if I hadn’t found him.” The Sandman turned his attention back to the hallway.
“Where is he?” she asked, a strange calm settling over her. Selia knew she should have been angry, furious, upset or even scared out of her wits. But she didn’t feel anything but calm decisiveness. “Take me to him.”
The Sandman looked over his shoulder at her. “He’s safe. I took him to a hospital out of the way. The staff there knows how to keep quiet. Weren’t going to fix him up until I told them to. He’s far safer than you are at the moment.”
“Fine,” she replied. Turning away from him, she tucked her laptop into the duffle bag before snapping the gun back into her shoulder holster. “You’re here to rescue me. So, rescue me. Then you can take me to him.” She grabbed her oversized jacket and slid it on over her blouse, effectively hiding her holster.
“You know how to use that thing?” He nodded towards her concealed weapon.
Selia wasn’t certain if he was joking or dead serious. “I wouldn’t be wearing it if I didn’t know how to use it properly. Soren taught me. He’s the only one here who knows everything there is to know about me.” A smile pulled at her lips and her face softened as she added, “I do him proud on the range.”
He grunted and gestured towards the window balcony. She shoved the wig into the gym bag – blonde hair would be far more noticeable than brown – and shoved the cap back onto her head. The gym bag, she hooked onto her shoulders like a backpack, not bothered by the weight.
The Sandman gave a single nod of approval, put on his sunglasses, and stepped onto the balcony, effectively vanishing in the darkness. That was okay, Selia decided. She wasn’t too bad at vanishing when she needed to, either. Magic made it easier, but she’d been taught how to do it without magic.
“Impressive,” she heard him murmur as he grabbed the rope lying flat against the side of the building. “It took me years of training and practice to learn how to vanish like that.”
“You aren’t the only one with secrets,” she murmured, leaning over and grabbing the rope easily, without causing it to sway with the movement. Okay, maybe she was showing off a little. “Up or down?”
“Up,” he replied and the grin on his face was easily heard in his voice.
“Be sure to enjoy the view,” she teased, her voice carrying only to his ears.
He chuckled and swatted her gently on her rear. “It’s a guarantee. Now get moving. Let me know if you get tired.”
She snorted. “How about you catch up with me?” With those words, she began climbing, hand-over-hand, up the side of the building.
Selia didn’t fear heights. She had climbed higher as a child, and without the use of a net that many people favored. As a youth, you don’t think of the dangers or have a fear of falling. Not if you’ve been taught well, and Selia had been a quick learner in everything she did. Magic might have been her forte and what she excelled at, but when given a task, she wanted to be the best at it, or as close as she could possibly get.
The rope didn’t sway beneath her hands as she climbed. Once she reached the roof, she climbed over the edge, onto the flat surface, and turned to offer the Sandman her hand, only to find him right behind her.
“Where to now?” she asked softly, enjoying being only a hand’s width away from him. “Or do you plan on keeping me entertained up here?”
“Trying to tempt me, lovely siren?” he asked, a gloved hand brushing across her cheek.
“I’m not a siren,” she replied, smiling.
Swallowing hard, she said, “Take me to see Soren. Please.”
He lifted his chin slightly, perhaps in a challenge, but Selia just kept her gaze level. A part of her wanted to stay with him, despite the fact he was technically the opposition, but he’d saved her twice. That meant something to her. The desire welling up inside her also said something other than ‘enemy’. Unfortunately, with Soren being in the hospital and Alfi gunning for her, it didn’t allow for a lot of conventional romantic opportunities.
The Sandman met her gaze before sliding his hand from hers and turning to look over the edge. She had to see Soren. Her father had the answers she needed, and she had the magic he needed.
“I could use magic to persuade you, but I’d rather not. I’m not like the rest of the Family, Sandman.” She paused as he turned back to her. At least she had his attention. “Please, take me to Soren. I can help him, and I need to see for myself that he’s alive.”
Selia rarely pleaded. In fact, the last time she’d pleaded with someone, she had made a bargain and for nearly a year had felt as though she’d sold her soul to the devil. She stopped seeing Soren as the devil after only a few months with him, and that had been followed quickly by love and appreciation.
That hadn’t stopped her from resenting Soren a bit because he forced her to glamour people to make his job easier, though. Free will was important to her, but she had made a bargain that included her using magic to force his influence on others. Eventually, she had learned that what she did was far better than the other possible methods Soren could have employed.
Nearly being killed and learning someone she had thought indestructible had nearly died put life into a whole new perspective. No, Soren wasn’t an angel, but he sure as hell wasn’t as bad as Alfi or many of the others in the syndicate. Soren had protected her when she’d needed it. His way of doing things, even using her magic to make his deals, agreements, and arrangements, kept people from dying or ending up wishing they were dead.
Taking The Night (Nightshade series Book 1) Page 3