He hoped to keep her that way.
He kept her behind the counter and part of the business because she was his sister, because they shared the apartment above the shop, because he loved her. He had even bought two separate desks for the office because it made Jas feel important.
The things he did for that girl.
An eon went by and at last the phone rang. Oriel slapped his hand across the desk, landing on the receiver and shooting his sister a dark look when she reached for it, blood rushing to his chest and palms sweaty. “I’ve got it.”
She went back to filing her nails. “You’re nasty.”
He answered by the second ring, his eyes flicking toward the window. “Hello?”
“Got a tip on that thing you asked me to check into.”
Jasmine’s hearing was too good for Oriel to have the conversation in her presence. “Sure, sounds great. Hang on a minute.” He pressed his hand against the microphone and drummed his fingers. “Distributor issues. I’ve got to go down and check the expiration dates on the milk shipment we just got in.”
Jas set her nail file down, her mouth hanging open. “Are you kidding me?”
Oriel pushed himself out of his seat. He’d been sitting for too long. His legs were stiff and his hips cracked when he stretched. Still, excitement churned and soon he was itching to get out. “Sorry, I wish I were. Don’t you hate it when these things happen? I’ll be back in a minute.”
Her insults followed him down the hallway with words like imbecile and too expensive to fuck up echoing from the office. For such a petite woman, she sure did pack a temper.
He kept his hand on the phone until he was well out of earshot. Then, on second thought, he pushed into the hallway closet and closed the door after him. “Please tell me this is good news,” he whispered.
The rasping tone on the other end rewarded him with a chuckle. “It depends on your definition of good.”
“Obviously good means you’ve found what I’m looking for. Come on, man, I hate these games.” Oriel sighed and let his head rest on the shelf behind him. The air was rank with the smell of bleach and mold. He’d need to have it cleaned. Another item to put on his overly long list of things to do.
“I may have a tip. It’s not concrete, mind you, but it points in a direction. I think a direction is better than nothing at all. Don’t you?”
He didn’t have the luxury to think about it. “I’m not paying you for a tip. I’m paying for you to track down the goods.” The voice on the other end of the line remained silent, reminding him that he wouldn’t get an answer if he gave into any snarky tendencies. “What did you find?”
It hadn’t been his first choice, he mused, relying on one of the dregs pulled off the seedy underbelly of the paranormal community. But the man, whose name Oriel didn’t know, came recommended by his mother the last time they’d seen each other. Two years ago.
“I’d first like to tell you how I risked life and limb to get you this information, but I’m sure you won’t care. You won’t care that I had to fight off a den of were-bears and a hormonal lamia…”
“You’re right, I don’t, want to hear it” Oriel answered. “I paid you good money to do this job for me.” Too much.
He’d been paying his informant, who went by X, for the last six months in an attempt to track down any news. So far it had been difficult, their endeavor turning up less and less information. Oriel was about to give up hope. Then X had called a few days ago and said he might be on to something.
It was on to the waiting game.
“Word on the street has it that a new shipment made its way to the coast,” X stated. “It’s near the wharf. Some boat came in called the Sea Treasure, was supposedly carrying a vial of the stuff. I’m not sure where it’s where it’s docked—”
“I’ll find it.” Oriel went to hang up and, on second thought, finished the conversation with, “Thank you!”
A swell of anticipation brought blood to the tips of his ears this time. This was it, he thought. The tip was concrete enough to get him really pumped. Had X found the stash? After all this time?
His luck was changing!
Missing raven and annoying sister and overdue paychecks forgotten, Oriel indulged in a victory fist pump as the closet door opened.
“What is this? Some kind of kink thing? Are you getting down and dirty with the mop?”
His head barista Hilary cocked her hip and stared him down. Unsure whether to laugh or be scared. Long brown hair, green eyes, and a chip on her shoulder, she was the only one Oriel let talk to him like a friend rather than a boss. Unfortunately, she’d caught him in a bad situation. Now she’d lord it over him for the next year.
He cleared his throat and straightened to his full six-foot-four-inches, then stuck the phone in his back pocket. “I’m checking to see if anyone cleaned the floors last night. So far, I’m unconvinced. I think we are going to have to call a meeting and go over the duties again. These mops are dry and crusty.”
It was better to go for stoic overlord than embarrassed man-child. His insides were squirming like he was five years old and surprised with a trip to an amusement park.
“You’re going to explain this to me.” It was more a demand than a question. Hilary had a bad habit of trying to boss everyone around, including her boss.
Oriel couldn’t look at her. “I thought I just did?”
He swept past her and back into the office, taking care to keep his stride even instead of skipping ahead. Hell, the moment called for a sprint. But then everyone would know something was up. He had to maintain composure, at least until he was out the door.
What would he need for an impromptu trip to the wharf? It depended on how lucky he was. Would he run into trouble? Bad weather? He hoped for smooth sailing and then mentally lashed himself for the cliché. This hour of the night, the most important item to bring was a flashlight. It helped to be able to see where you were going when contemplating a B & E.
His first B & E! Hopefully, it was worth it in the end.
“Please tell me you gave them hell.” It was the first thing Jasmine said when he rushed inside.
Oriel nodded, blond hair falling into his eyes. “Oh, sure. You know me. I’m a regular hell-raiser.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
He replaced the phone on the receiver and glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Was there something funny in what I said?”
She sighed and went back to her nails. “Apparently not.”
He went through a mental checklist and decided it was better not to plan or anticipate the worst. It was also better not to get his hopes up. This was a simple scouting mission. He needed to rinse and repeat the saying as many times as necessary. Otherwise, he risked getting his hopes dashed like the other times he’d rushed out and come home with nothing to show for it. It didn’t help the butterflies attacking each other in his stomach.
He was halfway to the door when, on second thought, he whirled around to grab a coat. It might be summer in Oregon, but that didn’t mean the nights were warm. Especially near the water.
“Where are you going?” Jasmine looked up from her desk, file in hand.
“Out.”
Her grin was innocence at its best and showed off the gap to perfection. “What happened to making sure the employees get paid on time? Hmm?”
“It will have to wait for later. It’s an emergency.”
Her concern shifted and melted until it became a smirk, the expression most often displayed on her pretty face. “Something to do with the milk expiration dates, I take it.”
Oriel hid his face to keep her from seeing the lie clearly pasted there. “Yes. I’m going down to give their manager a piece of my mind.”
“At midnight?”
“The night manager,” he clarified.
Jasmine leaned in her chair and kicked her feet up on the desk. Flecks of mud from the tread on her sneakers fell across the surface. She didn’t seem to care. She never did. “Fine
, don’t tell me where you’re going. It’s not like I have any right to know. I’m just your sister. Left here to fend for your business while you’re out cavorting doing god-knows-what.”
“Great.” He reached down to place a kiss on her forehead, rewarded with a slight hiss. “See you later!”
He told himself not to run out the door. It would make a scene, and the last thing he needed was to disrupt his customers or give the staff something to wiggle their tongues over. It was bad enough Hilary had found him in the closet exclaiming his delight with the mop in hand.
This was big, he thought, his strides increasing until he pushed out the door and into the night. A deep breath inflated his lungs to their full capacity and he paused, holding it in for one second. The air brought with it the scent of salt carried in on a strong ocean breeze. If he paused, he could make out the hints of pine. The night-drenched scents of his small seaside community. Five seconds. Six. He finally released, head light, and made his way across the street to the one-story parking garage where he kept his car.
This was the moment he’d been waiting for. The nullum fame. It was the most powerful alchemical substance ever created. A single drop could curve the cravings of the most savage beast. Strip away their base hunger and give them a semblance of normalcy for as long as it took their system to process.
It was damn near impossible to find and even harder to produce. The two warlocks he’d heard tried to conjure the stuff ended in worst positions than they’d started. Namely, in bits and pieces. One of them was inside out.
The last batch Oriel had managed to procure lasted through the first two years of his coffee shop opening. A drop in every drink and his customers not only came back for more, they were able to get a better handle on their everyday lives. He’d found through trial and error that a single drop could keep a supernatural creature for around a month on average, and he’d taught his staff to keep detailed records when it came to doling out the good stuff. There were photos on file for every shifter that came in the door—a nice product of their security system that snapped a photo whenever a customer paid—and the number of drops were recorded each time.
Oriel was down to his last three drops.
2
The hunger was back, and it ate at her until she felt that her insides had hollowed and there was nothing left but bone and skin holding her together. There was a beast in her belly clawing its way out until she was exposed.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. None of it. Her life, her future…
Georgia St. Edmond kept to the shadows with her back pressed to the building behind her even though there was no need. Old habits die hard. She wasn’t used to the ability to blend. Her whole life she’d stood out to the crowd. Made her living with her face and her bright red hair, a product of her mother’s Irish ancestry. Coupled with her peaches-and-cream skin and wide, expressive eyes, it was a face many had told her was built for the camera. She’d decided to take the advice to heart and as soon as she was able to make adult decisions herself, it was off to New York. Miami. Hollywood.
Her parents didn’t approve. When had they ever? They were the kinds of people who didn’t like to look too far away from their front door.
Now everything was different.
The smoky gray shadows caressed her body, flickered their way along her skin with a lover’s caress until she absorbed them into herself. She watched her forearm blend with the darkness until it vanished from sight and there was nothing left of her. Her disappearing act wasn’t always that easy. Right after the accident, she’d melted into the mist and it had taken days to get back to herself. Other times, when she needed to blend, when she was desperate for the invisibility, her body remained solid. Carved from cement. She couldn’t control herself and there was no one to tell her what to do or how to act or who to be.
A stabbing pain split her midsection and she wanted to double over and screech to the sky. No, it definitely wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Keep it together, she thought with a mental lash of admonishment. This is the most important thing you’ve done yet.
Swallowing against the rush of pain, she crept along underneath the store overhang blotting out the light of the moon. Invisibility came naturally as long as she kept to the shadows and didn’t think about it too much. Kept to the murky in-between places where creatures hid in wait, creatures like what she’d become.
The tip Georgia had received was a dimming beacon in an otherwise black sea. It was a potion she searched for, one able to take away the worst of the pain and most of the hunger, from what she understood. With it, she’d be able to control herself. Maybe even handle the stabbing in her stomach threatening to take her under. She might get back to a normal life, a normal existence.
The thought lightened the tension in her shoulders and made it easier to breathe again. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be back in the limelight. After the accident, she’d had to abandon her house. How could she stay where people knew her? Where she might disappear in front of them without meaning to? There was too much as stake, not to mention the hunger she couldn’t control. She packed a small bag and was out before the press knew what happened. Hell, she hardly understood it herself. But with the potion…Georgia sighed and imagined riding up and down the sunny streets of Malibu again in her brand-new convertible. Shopping at her favorite stores and enjoying the perks of the day spa down the street from her house.
Once she had everything under control, she could even call her agent and tell him she was ready—
No, she mused grimly, shaking her head. Those were thoughts for another time and place. They had no business creeping into her head here. She needed to focus. Everything else could wait until she had the vial in her hand. Better yet, when she had the liquid inside ingested. Then her problems would be in the rearview mirror. At least, until she ran out.
Each footstep brought her closer to the docks and closer to the boat her contact told her had only just arrived from Brazil. Did she trust him? Not entirely. Did she push herself out to explore every tip he called in? Yes, yes she did. Because it was better to try and fail than sit at home bemoaning her situation, which she did plenty of anyway.
Which was how she’d found herself in Oregon after traipsing up the coast, hiding wherever she could find on her mad goose chase.
It was two years to the day. Two years since she’d had her life stripped away. Everything she’d known, loved, the upward trajectory of her career…it was gone. In a blink. Faster than a blink.
The closer she came to the water, the more powerful and pungent were the scents. Seaweed, salt, rotting fish carcasses from the day’s catches. Her nose scrunched up. It was a far cry from the sweet-smelling beaches she was accustomed to, where the waves brought in churning foam and the breeze was soft and fresh.
Her footsteps were nonexistent as she made her way down the line of tightly moored boats. These were not opulent vessels. These were the working man’s ships. Blue collar machines that worked hard to cut through the waves.
It didn’t take long to spot the one her nameless confidant had told her about. The Sea Treasure looked like it had weathered more than its fair share of storms. Paint peeled off the hull and there were broken window panes in the cabin.
This couldn’t possibly be the one she was looking for. Who would take a chance transporting something as important as the potion she sought on a ship like that? she wondered, crouching down to stare at the barnacle-crusted line keeping the boat shored tight to the dock. It was madness. And if they had, then why would they leave it there and abandon post without some sort of eyes?
Or, her mind fought back, it was brilliance. No one would look for it here, she was sure. No one but her. They would expect a rare find to be kept in a secure vault surrounded with armored guards on all sides. At least, that’s what her imagination decided was appropriate. The damn thing always had a mind of its own. Her creativity made her a fine actress. Although tonight, it ran away with her.
/> Georgia rubbed her hands together in anticipation, a fire in her gut that had nothing to do with the hunger. Her time was coming. Soon she wouldn’t be limited to the shadows. She wouldn’t have to fight to survive every day, concealing her face unless someone saw her and realized just how far she’d fallen from glory.
The tabloids had come up with hundreds of crazed headlines in retaliation to her disappearance from the spotlight. Things from rehab to secret babies to a marriage to a far-off prince in a distant European country. Some claimed death.
Death, Georgia knew, would have been easier to swallow. It had been. Until she was brought back.
As it was, she was going nowhere fast. She lived in squalor, lost her friends, boasted no lovers, no prospects whatsoever. She lived for finding her next meal and trying anything she could to stem the hunger before finding that, in the end, nothing worked. Never in her wildest nightmares could she have come up with this scenario.
Glancing around, she saw no one on the docks. She pulled away from the shadows and crossed the pier, holding her breath before she realized what she was doing. Her lungs ached on the exhale.
The moon was full overhead, lost in between dark gray tufts of clouds. She nearly lost her balance and catapulted over the side of the ship the second she set foot on its rotting sideboards. Her partially insubstantial form didn’t help matters. A shaft of moonlight brought her leg into view and she drew in a sharp breath, glancing around to make sure there really was no one else there to see her phantom, floating limb.
She had to be careful. A single set of prying eyes on the wrong person could give her away, and she’d worked too hard for this find to give it to anyone else. Barring her contact was correct when he said she’d find what she was looking for on the Treasure.
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 59