“Who’s this?”
“Robin.”
“Oh.” Why on earth was the petite, mysterious demon contractor calling me? “How are—”
As I spoke, the cheering of the audience swelled.
“Don’t you dare turn that up again!” I bellowed at the faery, belatedly pulling the phone away from my face. “Wait until I’m off the phone. Geez!”
Shoulders hunching, Twiggy hit the pause button. The room went blissfully silent.
“Sorry, Robin,” I said into the phone as I stalked over to the breakfast bar. “Roommates, I tell ya.”
Twiggy shot me a half-pouting, half-pleased look over the top of the sofa. Despite his annoyance at my television tyranny, he loved it when I called him my roommate. It made his little green day every time.
“I just have a quick question, if that’s okay,” Robin said, her sweet alto voice hollowed by the phone connection.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“When we were meeting with Naim at Odin’s Eye,” she began, “you, um … you had some MDP cases in your folder. I noticed a photo in one, and I was wondering … could I get the case file?”
“Oh?” I murmured, sliding onto a stool. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Our ill-fated appointment at Odin’s Eye—which had ended in fire, steel monsters, and getting more up close and personal with her demon than I would’ve liked—had begun with a friendly interrogation of ex-summoner Naim Ashraf. I’d bluffed him with a folder of MPD cold cases, and as I’d flipped through the printouts, Robin had gone all gaspy over a particular page of photos.
“Sure,” I told her. “On one condition.”
A wary pause. “What condition?”
“You tell me what’s special about that photo.”
Another longer pause as she decided what she wanted to tell me. “One of the men in the photo looked like the mythic who summoned my demon.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d been hoping for. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that ancient amulet thingy?”
Ancient amulet thingy—by which I meant the very same amulet hidden in my makeup bag. She’d shown up to our meeting with a perfect drawing of it, claiming it was a medieval infernus she was researching.
“No,” she replied firmly.
Too firmly?
“Hm. All right, give me a moment.” I hopped up and returned to my room. Where had I left that folder? I wasn’t actually investigating any of the files and I probably should’ve thrown it out, but that would’ve required a level of organization I didn’t possess right now.
I shuffled through a stack of mail on my nightstand. As I opened the drawer, I stepped on a shirtsleeve hanging off my bed. It and my toiletry bag tumbled to the floor. Swearing under my breath, I nudged the makeup bag into the middle of my mattress before it fell too.
“Sorry,” I told Robin, pinching my phone to my ear with my shoulder. “I’m in the middle of packing and my place is a mess. I think I buried the folder.”
“Are you moving?”
“Huh?” I dug into the drawer, but it was frustratingly folderless. “Oh, no, not that kind of packing. I’m going on a trip.”
“Where to?”
Oh, nowhere. Just Enright—you know, the infamous location where the largest group of demon mages in modern history were found and brutally exterminated.
“South,” I said, turning toward my closet. “We’re leaving soon, so I need to—” As I stepped over my suitcase, my foot caught on the handle and the suitcase landed flat on its face, spilling all three things I’d managed to pack so far.
“Shit.” I picked it up, tossed the now unfolded clothes on my bed, and faced the closet again. “What was I … right, the folder.”
“Are you going with your friends?” Robin asked. “The mages?”
“Yeah.” I shoved a heap of shoes aside, revealing a brown folder lying on the floor. “Aha!”
I remembered now. I’d decided the papers should be shredded, not thrown out, so I’d put them somewhere “safe.”
“Got it. Let’s see …” I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the folder. “It was a photo of two dudes, right?” I flipped through cases until I found a photo with a pair of men talking. “Here it is. Case 97-5923.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. So, you think your demon’s summoner is skeevy?”
“I know he’s skeevy. Just not sure how much.”
Oh, interesting. Did that imply her contract might be on the skeevy side too? Her demon was kind of strange. “Hope that case has some juicy details for you, then. Let me know if you need any help. I owe you one for taking me to see Naim.”
“He wasn’t any use.”
“Yeah, but you still shared your lead with me.” My gaze turned to my makeup bag, sitting innocently beside me. Robin was researching the amulet too. Had she found answers I hadn’t? What did she know?
When I’d first seen her drawing of it, I’d decided that pressing her for information was too risky—but after Ezra’s dip into madness three days ago, the time for caution was well and truly over.
“Robin, can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“That amulet.” I gripped my phone more tightly. “Do you know what it does?”
A pause. “No … I’m trying to learn more about it.”
“If you find out anything, will you tell me?”
“Have you seen it, Tori?” Intensity sharpened her voice. “Do you know where the amulet is?”
Shit. I’d said too much. “I have to go.” I hesitated, then added, “I’ll talk to you when I get back, okay?”
Before she could say anything else, I ended the call. I had no choice anymore. If we didn’t find answers in Enright, then Robin and I would be having a chat. She knew something about the amulet, and I’d find out what.
How I’d force information out of the shrimpy contractor was a challenge I’d tackle when the time came. Robin wasn’t as timid as she seemed, and she had an unstoppable weapon in the shape of an abs-tastic demon to protect her.
I pushed to my feet and surveyed the disaster that my room had become. Enright and its mysteries first. Then Robin and her unknown knowledge of the amulet next.
One way or another, I would save Ezra.
Chapter Three
“Who wants pizza?” I singsonged as I waltzed through the front door of Aaron’s house, three large boxes held dramatically above my head.
Aaron appeared in the doorway that separated the hall from the living room. Hands tucked in his jeans pockets, he arched an eyebrow. “You mean the pizza I ordered?”
“Don’t let the boxes fool you,” I declared loftily, breezing past him. “I made these pizzas with my own two hands.”
He followed me into the dining room. “Tell me you at least paid the delivery guy.”
“What, you think I tackled him and stole the food? I’m not the Hamburglar.” I slid the boxes onto the table and flipped the top on the first one. “Ham and pineapple?”
“With extra pineapple.” Aaron flashed a grin. “Might as well get our fill before Kai is back to discriminate against our topping selections.”
I set the first pizza aside and opened the second box. “Deluxe pepperoni with …” I shot Aaron a disbelieving stare. “With pineapple?”
Aaron’s grin widened.
Pushing that box out of the way, I flipped up the third lid. “Chipotle chicken with—”
“Pineapple,” a smooth voice whispered in my ear.
I shrieked and my hand mashed down into the hot pizza. I yanked it back, my palm coated in sauce and cheese. “Ezra!”
He stepped around me, his fingers brushing my waist—a brief touch, there and gone. Matching Aaron’s grin, he held his phone above the table. The flash went off.
“Did you just take a picture of the pizzas?” I asked bemusedly.
“No,” he lied, straight-faced as his gaze turned to his phone, thumbs already whizzing across the screen. “And I’m not s
ending any photos of our extra pineapply pizzas to Kai, either.”
“Pineapply isn’t a word.”
Aaron picked up a slice of pineapple-pepperoni. “Make sure to tell him that the chicken one is messed up because Tori stuck her hand in it.”
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault.” I held my cheese-smeared hand out like it was contaminated with radioactive waste. “Ezra, don’t—”
“Oops. Already hit send.”
I stomped into the kitchen to wash my hands. When I returned, Ezra and Aaron were perched on chairs and already on their second slices. I grabbed a ham and pineapple slice before they ate it all. How could they pack away an entire pizza each and still look that freakin’ good?
Ezra had one bare foot propped on his chair, his messy curls damp from a recent shower. If I had to guess, he’d only just stepped out of the shower and pulled on a t-shirt and sweats before sneaking upstairs to scare the crap out of me.
Yeah, that was exactly what had happened.
Trying not to think about him in the shower—if only I’d arrived a few minutes earlier—I took a big bite of pizza. Delicious, but not as good as Ezra-in-the-shower would’ve been.
His phone chimed, and he slid it off the table without shifting his pizza slice too far from his mouth. Peering at the screen, he let out a whoop of laughter—and choked on his mouthful.
Coughing, he shoved his phone at me and grabbed for the can of soda Aaron was holding out to him. He took a long gulp.
I blinked down at the screen. Kai had replied with a photo of his own—a selfie of the dark-haired electramage himself, staring disapprovingly into the camera while taking a sultry bite of his pineapple-free pizza.
Laughing, I passed the phone to Aaron and stuffed more food into my mouth. He chortled over the image, amusement brightening his eyes for the first time in days.
“Wednesday night pizza triumphs!” His delight faltered as he studied the photo. “But shit, look at that place. Where is he?”
Ramming the last of my slice between my teeth, I snatched the phone back and looked again. I’d been so focused on Kai’s face—and pizza choice—that I hadn’t noticed the background of the photo. He was sitting on a white sofa with curvy lines, and behind him stretched a massive suite with two-story-high windows in place of walls, the glowing lights of Vancouver ending at the dark water of the ocean. Aside from the designer sofa, everything in the room seemed to be made of glass or white marble.
“Is that a glass staircase?” I muttered, peering at the spiraling structure descending from the ceiling. “That’s terrifying. Do you think it’s slippery?”
Ezra reclaimed his phone and typed a reply. When his eyes, sparkling with mirth, darted to me, I made a wild grab for the phone again. With his stupid demonic reflexes, he spun in his chair and I ended up lunging into his back.
“Sent!”
“What did you type?” I growled, leaning over his shoulder.
Aaron leaned in from the other side to read the screen.
Ezra’s reply glowed beneath Kai’s photo: Tori wants to know if you’ve fallen down those stairs yet.
The phone chimed and Kai’s response appeared: Yeah. I think I cracked my tailbone.
My forehead scrunched. “Is he serious?”
“Good question,” Ezra muttered. “Should I ask—”
Another chime. Kai had added to the message: Makiko spilled a glass of water. They were slippery.
I pulled my arms from around Ezra. “Wait. Are they staying in the same suite?”
“You mean,” Aaron corrected, “are they staying in the same bedroom?”
Dropping back into my seat, I clenched my hands. “He better not be sleeping with that woman.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“He’s slept with tons of women.”
“And none of them were part of his life, which was the whole point.” Aaron took another slice. “Well, that and the sex. Maybe the sex was more the point.”
I snorted. “Okay, but—”
“If he is banging her, then it’s all part of his escape plan.”
“Sleeping with the enemy, huh?” I muttered, avoiding thoughts of Izzah, who was head over heels in love with Kai and had no idea why he’d dropped her like a nasty river rock covered in algae slime.
“The important question here,” Ezra said, staring grimly at his phone, “is whether he really fell down the stairs. Because I think he didn’t but I’m not sure, and the fact I’m unsure means that whether he fell or not, he still wins.”
“Wins what?” I asked.
Ezra and Aaron looked at me with identical expressions of disbelief.
“Never mind.” I chose another slice of pizza.
When most of the pizza had been devoured and the remaining slices arranged in one box to form a new Franken-pizza, we retired to the living room and played a dozen rounds of Aaron’s favorite racing game. We laughed and razzed each other and drank through a six-pack of beer, and it was almost like normal.
Almost like normal, except for the empty spot on the sofa.
Almost like normal, except Ezra lost every other round, too exhausted—or distracted—to leverage his superior reflexes.
Almost like normal, except I couldn’t stop thinking about my suitcase, packed and waiting in my apartment for tomorrow morning.
“I’m done,” Ezra decided after the twelfth game, tossing his controller onto the cushion between us. “I need to stop now before I lose my reigning champion title.”
“Chicken,” Aaron taunted, waving his bright-red controller. “This is the most I’ve won since I first introduced you to the wide world of console gaming.”
“Yeah, right.” He stretched his arms over his head, back arching. “I lost nonstop for the first couple of months. You refused to go easy on me, even though I’d never touched a controller before.”
Never? I knew Ezra had been homeless for a couple years before meeting Aaron, but I hadn’t realized his childhood before that had been devoid of luxuries like console games.
“You wouldn’t’ve learned anything if I’d gone easy on you,” Aaron declared. “Besides, I knew you’d be stomping me in no time.”
A smile flickering over his lips, Ezra pushed off the sofa. He glanced at me, humor softening, sadness lurking. Silent, he disappeared into the kitchen, and the bathroom door clacked shut.
“Wanna watch a movie, Tori?” Aaron asked.
“Sure. Your pick.”
He switched modes on his huge TV and began scrolling through the action flicks. Two minutes later, Ezra reemerged and headed toward the stairs.
“Night, Tori.” He tossed a grin at Aaron. “Night, loser.”
“Oh, ouch. Harsh, man.”
They both laughed at Aaron’s “I’m so wounded” act, then Ezra traipsed up the stairs. I listened for the sound of his door, but he closed it too softly for me to hear.
I glanced at the clock glowing on the PVR under the television. Barely past ten, but it’d only been three days since the Carapace of Valdurna had devoured all his magic. It’d be days more before his stamina fully recovered.
A movie began with a swell of music, but I hadn’t seen which title Aaron had chosen.
“Have you talked to him yet?” he asked quietly.
“Not yet.”
“We’re leaving in the morning.”
“I know. Are you packed?”
“Yeah. My bag is in my room.” He settled deeper into his recliner. “What about Kai?”
“I called him this afternoon. He’s as excited about my plan as you are. He said he’d work on Makiko to get her to loosen his leash for a few days, but he couldn’t make any promises.”
Aaron nodded. “You sure about this, Tori?”
“As in, am I sure this will be anything but a huge waste of time? No. But I’m damn sure we’re doing it anyway.”
“I just don’t understand what you expect to find after eight years.”
My gaze rose to the ceiling where Ezra’s bedroom wa
s. “I know what I’m looking for … and I know where to look for it.”
“How?”
“Insider information.” I pushed to my feet. “I’m going to see if Ezra is asleep yet. Don’t wait for me.”
I could feel his questioning gaze as I left the room, but I didn’t look back. My mind was made up. My preparations were complete. And before we left tomorrow, I needed to hammer out the details of our plan.
Chapter Four
At the top of the stairs, I halted in front of Ezra’s door. A dim light shone through the gap underneath it. I tapped on the wood.
A muffled sound answered me, and I pushed the door open. Ezra was halfway between sitting on his bed and rising to his feet, and three things registered in my brain all at once: that muffled response hadn’t been permission to enter, he was shirtless, and he was holding a tan folder.
He blinked at me, then sank back onto his bed. “Come in?”
Why, why was he so gorgeous? His bronze skin stretched taut over hard muscles—and my god, I needed to touch this man. His sweats clung to his hips, revealing the waistband of his boxers, and his shirt lay on the foot of the bed; he must’ve started to strip down for bed before getting distracted.
And now I was the one distracted.
Shaking myself, I offered a guilty smile. “Sorry, I thought that’s what you said. Do you mind?”
“No, it’s fine.”
I shut the door, then crossed his room, glancing wistfully at his guitar on my way past. He’d only played for me once. Should I ask if he’d play for me again?
As I sat on the mattress beside him, I tried and failed not to glance curiously at the folder he’d tucked halfway out of sight on his other side—but, of course, he noticed. Sighing, he slid it onto his lap. His fingers disappeared inside, then he withdrew a photograph, marred by creases but still glossy.
Guilt stabbed me. It was the photo I’d found in his dresser eight months ago while searching for a t-shirt. Snoopy me had taken a good long look at the image of young Ezra and a blond girl before hiding the picture back in the folder.
“I told you about her,” he murmured.
Lost Talismans and a Tequila (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 7) Page 3