Shadow Underground: A Romantic Urban Fantasy Murder Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 3)

by Candice Bundy

  “Lydia speaks highly of you, especially after a couple glasses of rosé,” he replied. “Did you need to speak with her?”

  Relief washed over Becka. “Is she still there?”

  “Sadly, yes. I’m afraid today’s been a grueling session.”

  Becka could only imagine what he meant within the context of an oil painting session. “Fantastic. Can you tell her I’m coming by to pick her up and to wait for me?”

  “I’d love to. Ciao, Bella,” he said, and then hung up.

  “That was friendly,” Becka said.

  “He’d better be if people are getting naked for him,” Caeda quipped.

  Quinn got them to the art school eight minutes later and parked on the street in front of the building. It was one of many businesses along this street, sandwiched between a vegan smoothie shop and an upscale perfumery. Becka shot out of the car and poked her head in the front door.

  “Hey, I’m…”

  “Becka,” replied a brown-eyed man with a mane of long, curly black hair. His clothes were worn and covered in splotches of paint. “Your aunt is getting changed. She said to tell you she’d be out in just a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Michael.”

  Becka peered deeper into the establishment where several people stood milling about. There was a dais in the middle, ringed by easels. She caught sight of Lydia heading toward the back and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then she noticed one of the paintings in progress and averted her eyes. It was tasteful, beautiful, Rubenesque, and significantly more of her aunt than she’d ever needed to see.

  “I’ll just be waiting out front,” Becka told him.

  “You sure I can’t convince you to sit for us?” Michael asked as she walked out the door. “You’d make quite the subject with that flash of pink hair.”

  “Nope, but thank you.”

  Back outside, they were all standing around, stretching their legs. “I saw her. She’s changing and then we’ll go home.”

  “I’m thinking we order in some Thai?” Saige asked.

  “How about Italian?” Hamish countered. “I know a place with an amazing puttanesca.”

  “Ew, capers.” Saige wrinkled her nose.

  “I’m on board with anything Asian,” Caeda threw in.

  After listening to the team debate the best appetizers to share, Becka’s anxiety had peaked again. Her gaze fell on Quinn, whose brooding look reflected her own concerns. Without saying a word, she rushed back into the art school.

  “Where’s the changing room?” she asked Michael as she and Quinn passed by him.

  “In the back on the left,” he called after them.

  Becka blocked the painted images from her mind as she raced through the gallery. When she reached the changing room at the back, the door was closed.

  Becka pounded on it. “Lydia!”

  She looked back at Quinn, whose look of concern caused her gut to churn. Hamish, Caeda, and Saige all stood in the corridor behind her, waiting and primed for action.

  After a moment there was no answer. She tried the lock, but it wouldn’t open. Becka shook the handle. “Lydia!” she called again.

  Silence met her ears.

  “Let me,” Quinn said, motioning for her to move aside so he could break down the door.

  “Hold on!” Michael said, slipping past them, key held aloft. “I do have a key, you fantastically protective and attractive people.” He quickly unlocked the door, opened it, and then stepped aside. “I hope you’re decent in there, Lydia!”

  Becka followed close on Quinn’s heels, willing herself to see or hear evidence of Lydia. Quinn was beside her as they scanned the area, taking in the room. There was an old, paint-smattered couch to her left, and a counter lined with stools under a wall of mirrors to her right. A lone vase of fresh flowers sat in the counter's corner. They walked deeper in where clothing lockers, showers, and bathroom stalls filled the space. The students had painted the entire set of rooms as a scene out of some idyllic garden paradise, the mood bright and uplifting.

  There was a go bag and large purse she recognized as Lydia’s open on a bench near an open locker. The shower was off, but the floor and walls of a stall showed recent use. All the bathroom stalls were open. A bright yellow bathrobe covered with a bright tulip print lay over a bench, forgotten.

  There was no Lydia to be seen.

  “No one saw her leave,” Hamish said, his eyes searching the space.

  Becka’s heart churned in her chest. She gasped, but there was no air to breathe. The world grew dark around her as she fell to her knees, numb to their impact with the floor.

  Warm, solid arms swept around her, preventing Becka from falling to the floor. “Breathe, Becka. Breathe.”

  Air rushed into her lungs, filled with the calming scent of cedar. The solid, safe scent of Quinn. Becka tried to push away, but he held her tight.

  “Just give it a minute. We can take a minute. Focus on your breathing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear.

  Becka grounded on Quinn’s voice, a lifeline she followed back as she focused on one breath after another. After a handful of breaths, her world slowly came back into focus. Around her she watched Hamish, Caeda, and Saige checking out the room, and poking through Lydia’s things. Michael had joined them, which was only right, considering it was his place of business.

  When Becka pulled away this time, Quinn let her. “You okay?” he asked, the pain in his eyes for her.

  “I’m anything but okay,” Becka replied, hearing the trembling in her voice. She looked at the others. “What do you see?”

  “It looks like she just disappeared,” Caeda replied.

  “I think there’s a totem in the flower vase in the entryway,” Hamish said. “It’ll need to be analyzed to be sure.”

  “There’s a message in the shower stall,” Saige said. “Mimir has her.”

  “Who is this Mimir?” Michael asked.

  Becka pushed past Quinn into the shower. It hadn’t been visible when they entered, but the blood-red words were unmistakable against the pale-yellow tiles.

  TICK TOCK

  They were Mimir’s parting words to her earlier. Becka had run out of time and not even a day had passed.

  But they had taken Lydia. Would she even survive the night? Was she still alive now?

  Becka backed out of the stall, looking at each of them. Who would be next? The strong, funny wolf-shifter Hamish? Saige, her reliable wolf-shifter guard? Caeda, the perky fae-touched from House Poplar? Or Quinn, her rock from House Oak?

  But not her. Mimir might want her, but she’d made it clear Becka’s friends would be the ones to pay, and would continue to pay, until she gave in.

  Becka couldn’t wait. She had to stop Mimir while Lydia was still alive.

  Chapter 21

  Even before Becka opened her eyes, her first thought after waking up was of her Aunt Lydia. A thick crust held her eyelids together, remnants of a night spent crying. As she rubbed it away and forced her eyes open, Becka’s gaze sought and found Quinn, who was sitting in a chair by the window.

  “Any news?” she croaked out, her voice ragged.

  Quinn came to sit by her on the bed, his expression empathetic. “Nothing yet, but I’ve got a list of potential locations to show you that Nikkita compiled.”

  Becka couldn’t keep out thoughts of what Mimir was doing to Lydia in that den of hers. Had they strung Lydia up on that cross and bled her out? Becka shook her head. Surely not? Lydia wasn’t even gifted, after all. But then what would Mimir want from Lydia?

  She knew. Mimir wanted to force Becka’s hand. Right now, her blood for Lydia’s safe return was something Becka would willingly give up.

  There was a scratching at the door, and Quinn jumped up to let Oriani in. The beast ran into the room, but instead of jumping right up on the bed and demanding to be fed, he wandered around mewling, hunting for something. For Lydia.

  “He’s figured out Lydia is missing,”
Becka said. She patted the bed, but Oriani wouldn’t stop his hunt.

  Quinn sat back down beside her, leaning in close. “We’ll get her back, Becka.”

  “Alive?” she asked, hearing the crack in her voice.

  Quinn tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then placed his hand on her shoulder. She sighed, the comfort of his touch grounding her anxious thoughts. “We’re closer every hour to finding Mimir’s location. We have a great, motivated team. No one is giving up.”

  “I appreciate that, but why don’t we just use Mimir’s totem to get to Lydia?”

  “Do you think she left it functional after your last talk?”

  “I bet she would, just in case I’d take her up on her offer. I could even take a team with me,” Becka said. “We could be in and out. Just grab Lydia and go.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t like it. That’d be very dangerous, walking into a situation with no ability to scout ahead. We also don’t know that you could take anyone with you through the portal. There’s too much we don’t know about how those work. If I were her, I’d have the totem located in a locked cell to capture you on your return visit, and program it to only allow your passage.”

  Now that he said it, the logic seemed transparent. “Yeah, I bet you’re right. Mimir’s crazy for power, but she’s not stupid.”

  “She let you leave the last time, but now that she has Lydia, all bets are off.”

  Quinn’s explanation made sense, but Becka didn’t want to hear it. Tears welled, threatening to fall again. “I can’t just sit and do nothing while Lydia dies.”

  “You won’t. I doubt Mimir will kill Lydia.” He ran his hand down her back, his steady touch soothing her nerves. “First, she doesn't have any powers for a Shadow-Dweller to consume, and second, Lydia’s primary value is in being a lure to draw you in. If she’s dead, Mimir loses her lure.” Quinn’s other hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. The confident assurance in his gaze buoyed Becka’s hopes. This wasn’t their first fight with the Shadow-Dwellers. “Plus, from your last conversation with Mimir, I get the impression she doesn’t just want you giving yourself up to her, she also seems to want you on her side. Joining her side. She won’t achieve that by killing your family.”

  His analysis struck true, and Becka nodded with relief. “That makes sense. Being a hostage isn’t much better, but at least it’s not dead. But you might not be right, so we still have to hurry.”

  “Of course. Hurry and get ready so we can go check out these locations on Nikkita’s list.”

  Becka grabbed a fresh enforcer uniform from her closet and disappeared into her bathroom. “Did you even sleep?” she called out over the sound of the shower.

  “Nope, I’m too keyed up,” came Quinn’s deep baritone through the cracked open door. “Plus, I’m Oak, remember? I have the constitution of an immortal and can skip sleep without impacting my ability to perform.”

  “So why are you cranky when you skip sleep?”

  “I may be Oak, but that doesn’t mean I’m a morning person,” he said, winking at her.

  “You still sweat,” she said. He never smelled bad, but somehow always of that wonderful musky cedar scent.

  “Never fear. I showered and changed while you slept.”

  “Of course you did,” she muttered to herself.

  When Becka had finished washing and threw on her clothes, she opened the bathroom door all the way as she towel-dried her hair. Quinn leaned against the doorframe, taking her measure.

  “Just to review, you know you’re not allowed to go solo, use the totem, and portal yourself back to Mimir out of some misguided act of bravery?”

  Becka arched a brow. Was he just trying to distract her from worrying about Aunt Lydia? If so, she’d take playful banter with Quinn any day as a diversion. “If you think you can dictate…”

  Quinn held up a hand. “If I thought it would work, I’d order you to stay here in your room until we’d vanquished the Shadow-Dweller threat.”

  Becka’s jaw dropped. “You think you can order me around?”

  “Oh, I know better than that, Becka. I’m hoping to appeal to your rationality.”

  “Not by mentioning keeping me in my bedroom, you’re not.” Becka regretted the words almost as soon as they left her lips, and an impassioned flush filled her cheeks at the thought.

  Quinn’s gaze turned heated, the slightest of smiles curling his lips, and when he spoke, his voice had lowered a notch. “A poor choice of words. Or maybe just wistful?”

  A knock on Becka’s bedroom door was followed by Caeda’s speedy arrival. She came to stand beside Quinn, looking back and forth between them. “Did I interrupt something?”

  She had, but that was likely a good thing, considering the circumstances. “Not at all. What’s up?” Becka asked.

  Caeda pursed her lips. She might not have Quinn’s emotional reading ability, but it didn’t take a mind-reader to pick up on the tension between them.

  Caeda held out her hand toward Becka, producing two envelopes. “This mail came for you yesterday. Apologies, but Andre opened it to make sure there wasn’t anything hidden inside.”

  Becka put down her brush and reached for them. “One’s from Maura and the other from Dr. Traut.” She read through Maura’s first. “Shoot, dear ole ma has scheduled me for a curse removal today.” She looked to Quinn. “It’s at ten a.m. Can you spare someone to go with me?”

  “I’ll go with you,” he replied in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Caeda huffed. “Do we even have time for this right now? We need to devote all of our resources to finding Mimir and recovering Lydia.”

  Becka didn’t miss Caeda’s wording: she’d said recover, not save. “The Nulling won’t take more than a few minutes. Half hour at most with traffic. Besides, I don’t want to draw my mother’s ire by ignoring her contract assignments.”

  “Like Lydia’s kidnapping won’t?” Caeda asked.

  “Lydia is House Alder kin to my father, Duke Vott, not my mother. Maura thinks of Lydia as distant family,” Becka explained. “She’ll be more upset if I miss this contract.”

  “How empathetic of her,” Caeda said.

  “Not how most would describe her,” Becka replied, then looked to Quinn. “Won’t you need to coordinate the team at the bureau today?”

  “Wherever you go, I go,” Quinn replied. “Caeda will take point with the team today.”

  Caeda side-eyed him, and Becka had the impression that this was news to her. “Sure thing. Anything important in the other letter?” she asked Becka.

  Becka scanned it. “Oh my, Traut’s scheduled a panel for today at one. I’m supposed to sit as one panelist to answer questions.”

  “Can you reschedule?” Caeda asked.

  “No, and I don’t want to. It’s part of my duties as fae liaison to the institute.” Both Quinn and Caeda were frowning. “This is important to me and a commitment I’ve made. I can’t just flake out on Traut.”

  Oriani chose that moment to slide between Caeda and Quinn and stood looking up at Becka. He let out a demanding mewl at her, and Becka bent down and scratched him between the ears.

  Quinn took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. “No, we can use this.”

  A look of alarm washed over Caeda’s face. “You can’t be serious? A venue like that would be difficult to manage risks.”

  Quinn smiled through the tension lining his face. “Yes, but as Becka’s determined to hold to her commitments, we should support her. The venue is something Mimir won’t be able to pass up. She’ll come, or she’ll send her minions. Either way, we can track them.”

  “There will be a fair number of people there,” Becka said. “But our enemy has so far operated in the shadows.”

  “Agreed. Right now, we need leads. We’ll have to accept and manage the risk,” Quinn said.

  Caeda’s eyes flashed with irritation. Or was that fear? “I’d better prep the team. Please stay alert,” she said to Be
cka, then she was off.

  “Keep me updated,” Quinn called after Caeda. Becka couldn’t make out her response, but it was clipped and sounded something like a curse.

  “You ready to go?” Quinn asked her.

  Becka gave Oriani one more parting pet, nodded, and then slipped on her jacket, donned her gloves, and threw her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  They stopped in the kitchen and grabbed some fresh blueberry muffins. Becka slid some fresh fruit into her bag for the road. An uncharacteristically dour Hamish leaned against the counter sipping a cup of black coffee. Becka heard the shower running down the hall, so she grasped the opportunity to speak to Hamish.

  “Hamish, would you do something for me?” Becka asked.

  He took a drink of coffee. “What do you need?”

  “Could you please offer to escort Saige back to House Rowan’s territory?” she asked. He frowned, but Becka pressed on. “She’d be much safer there. Brent and the other shifters would be happy to have her back, and she’d be off the Shadow-Dweller’s radar there.”

  “I’ll… we’ll keep her safe,” he growled.

  “I know that, but you have to agree she’d be safer away from here.”

  He slammed his mug down on the counter, anguish in his eyes. “You think I don’t know that?” He ran a hand over his grizzled stubble, his emotional exhaustion palpable. “Look, I’ve already had this conversation with Saige, and lost. She’s not rational about the situation. She won’t leave, not until she avenges Luce.”

  Becka sighed, shooting him a sad smile. “I know how determined she can be.”

  He smiled back at her, a fierce intensity in his eyes. “She redefines focus, that one,” he said, shaking his head. “If Saige changes her mind, trust me, I’ll whisk her away from here that very moment.”

  “Thank you, Hamish. That’s all I can ask.”

  “In the meantime, Hamish, can you help Caeda at the bureau?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes, sir. That was my plan, I’m just waiting for Saige.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, clapping Hamish on the shoulder. “She’s tough.”