"No." Her tone told him further questioning would be futile, that she'd given up.
"Fine." He acknowledged his pouting. "It will have to do for now." But was he already cursed? He definitely had started to feel something for her. How could he not? She'd risked her own immortality—and his mind tripped over that concept—to keep the human race safe. And in a moment of vulnerability, she'd cried in his arms after Beauregard's betrayal. He wanted to get to know her—Maggie the woman, not Maggie the Truth Seeker—better. Was that enough to doom him?
Well, uncertainty made life interesting. And he suspected his life had just reached heights of interesting he had no idea existed. First they'd get the locket removed, then he'd help her tackle her curse.
Part II
The Locket
7
By the time they got everything straightened out with the hospital, who let Philippe go against medical advice, the sky had turned almost completely dark. Philippe barely paid attention to his surroundings as the cab whisked them through turn after uncomfortable turn. When they finally arrived at the terminal, Maggie had him wait on a bench while she went to stand in the line for tickets. He agreed to join her when he needed to show his ID to the ticket agent. He half-monitored her progress in line and half-attended to the other people around them. He could prove he was useful, if not capable of much at the moment, by looking for trouble.
One man in particular caught his attention. Something felt off about the guy, although he looked harmless enough in a sharp gray suit with a black upscale my-luggage-is-more-important-than-your-luggage carry-on. Maybe that was it—he stood out among the more casual traveling crowd. And kept looking at Philippe.
Philippe glanced away, not wanting to seem like he was staring. But it didn't surprise him when the man approached. He only hoped it was a case of mutual curiosity and nothing more sinister, although something like an electric charge raced along his skin when the man sat beside him.
"Traveling will wear you out," the man said. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
Philippe nodded, but didn't make eye contact. Instead he checked on Maggie's position. She only had a couple of people in front of her.
"Is that your girlfriend? The redhead?"
Philippe shrugged. "Not exactly. We're just friends." He almost laughed at the absurdity. Friends that fate had shoved together thanks to a stupid locket that currently spewed poison in his stomach.
"But you want something more."
It wasn't a question, so Philippe didn't respond. Not that it was the guy's business, anyway. But he persisted, and the more he spoke, the more Philippe caught some sort of accent—Eastern European, maybe?
"A pretty girl like that, I wouldn't let her get away."
"Look," Philippe turned toward him to tell him to shut up, but his phone dinged. Maggie was texting him that it was their turn. He stood. "It's none of your damn business what our relationship is."
The man only shrugged, his palms up. "And the fact you are getting so upset means I'm right. Remember—some things are worth fighting for. She's a special woman. I can tell."
"You have no idea," Philippe muttered and went to join Maggie at the ticket counter.
"No, we don't have any bags," she was saying. "It's a quick trip, only for the night. We've heard it's a great place to party."
Philippe handed over his ID and tried to smile and look like he felt up for partying. A dull ache in the pit of his stomach reminded him that it was the last thing he wanted to do. But he'd play along if it would help solve his problem.
He watched Maggie charm the gate agent, her eyes hidden by purple lenses again, and for a moment, he felt better. Maybe the strange guy was right. Maybe she was worth fighting for, even if she didn't think so.
Maggie and Philippe made it through security with no hassle, and the flight ran on time. She thought she'd seen him talking to someone, but he shrugged off her questions. Maggie hadn't been through many airports since her abilities allowed her to zap herself to wherever she needed to be, but occasionally her work demanded it. The press of people with all their emotions—a lot of frustration—made her feel claustrophobic, so she conserved her energy and didn't press him. Soon enough they were seated on the plane, and he fell asleep. Not that she blamed him. It had been a grueling day for him in more ways than one.
She took the opportunity to examine him more closely as the plane took off. His dark stubble stood out against his washed-out skin, and purple shadows ringed his eyes—the locket's dark work. And the aftermath of his encounter with Beauregard, which may have cracked his soul. She hadn't told him that. He had enough to worry about. She'd heard Truth Seekers who'd turned could use their powers to disrupt the spiritual energy in another being, like they had when seeking information, but in a darker way. That would mend eventually, but what was Niniane's locket doing to him? She hoped Lucia would have an answer. Maggie couldn't shake the fear that removing it wouldn't be as simple as a surgery. Evil objects had their own defenses.
What had possessed him to swallow it? It had been a snap judgment with grave consequences, but she'd sensed the potential for impulsive actions in him. That sort of spontaneity would likely make him attractive to other women, especially considering his dark good looks, but while she could admire a quick mind and handsome face, she'd never liked bad boy behavior. She wished she could talk to Raphael about his impressions of Philippe, but of course she couldn't call him from the plane. And Raphael had enough of his own problems. Plus, while he had some comprehension of supernatural affairs, he wasn't in law enforcement.
She gazed into the night, at the disappearing city lights that slid below the shadow of the plane's wing, and wished she could talk to someone who would understand what it was like to always be hunting or hunted. Or both, like she was now.
She turned her thoughts to planning, which always soothed her soul when troubled.
The flight passed quickly, and they touched down early. Philippe woke with a start.
"What? Where am I?"
She touched his shoulder to soothe him. "Atlanta. You slept the whole time." When he relaxed, she removed her hand.
"Oh." He looked disappointed. "Are you okay?"
She refrained from telling him that she could defend herself better than he could imagine. Well, in spite of how it might seem after the disaster in Boston. Instead, she only nodded. "Good nap?"
"Yes." He looked away.
"Did you dream?" It would be just her luck if her enemies were trying to get to him through the Collective Unconscious.
"Nope. At least not that I can remember." He rubbed his eyes. "Are we going to get food soon?" His stomach echoed the question with a growl.
She couldn't help a grin at his very human question. She had to remind herself again of his mortal needs. "Appetite is a good sign. And yes, once my colleague drops us off at my condo, I'll go get us something."
"Good." He leaned back and didn't say anything until they'd deplaned and walked through the airport, just two more faces in a sea of them. The sensations of everyone being too close, too ready to bump into them with their messy feelings, had disappeared once they'd reached the controlled environment of the plane. But now the emotional claustrophobia returned, and she didn't feel like she took a full breath until they stood outside at the arrivals area. She looked for Lucia's white Saturn. It was an unusual color for a no-longer-produced car—like a ghost, but it fit.
Finally she spotted it and waved, and Lucia pulled up. Lucia unfolded her six-foot-plus frame from the driver's seat and shook out her braids, which this week hung thick and dark around her face.
"Margaret," she said, her Caribbean accent rolling the syllables off her tongue. "It's good to see you."
"Thank you for picking us up." Maggie hugged her. Although the woman had a lot of physical and supernatural power, she gave gentle squeezes. Maggie had always admired her restraint. "This is Philippe."
"Nice to meet you." Philippe held out a hand, then pulled
it back halfway when he almost toppled over. Poor boy. She really needed to get him some food. If she hadn't been so overwhelmed, she would have suggested they grab a snack in the airport.
Oh, well, they'd be at their destination, which was surrounded by restaurants, soon enough.
"Ah." Lucia shook his hand, and Maggie sensed the magical probe Lucia sent into Philippe's body. Only a twitch of Lucia's eyebrows indicated she'd sensed something amiss. "Come, you must be exhausted."
"And hungry." He got into the backseat, where he slumped, his arms crossed.
"So you are on assignment?" Lucia asked once they'd pulled into traffic.
"Yes. The coffee shop tunnels."
"Ah. I have heard about them. And that they were using the pathways to open doors between the shops."
The intermittent glare from the streetlights overhead and vehicles on the other side of the interstate stung Maggie's eyes, and she rubbed them. "That's not good news. That means they could attack us from anywhere."
"You will have to be extra careful. But I sense you have an ally you are not yet aware of."
Philippe straightened. "Wait, who's going to attack? And how does she know this stuff?"
Maggie glanced back at him. "Lucia's a psychic. The real deal. And we'll have to watch for Niniane and her creatures. Hopefully she hasn't caught on as to where we are yet, but it's only a matter of time before she follows the locket."
"Great." Philippe slumped back again and looked out of the window.
Maggie caught Lucia up on what had happened with Philippe filling in what she didn't yet know.
"So you swallowed the locket to keep it away from Beauregard?" Lucia asked with a chuckle. "He must have been furious."
"Yes." Philippe grinned. "He was pissed."
Okay, so maybe it hadn't been such a dumb move, only a desperate one. But it had left Maggie with a major problem.
Lucia dropped them off in front of a condo complex in Decatur. Maggie found the key and the code in her pocket and let them in. She supported Philippe, who seemed to have grown yet weaker. Or…
"Are you okay?" she asked. "Do I need to take you to the hospital?"
"No." He eased back. "I'm okay."
"You were just leaning on me because you could." She glanced at him sideways while she unlocked the door.
"Guilty." He shrugged. "You can't blame a guy for trying."
Had he not heard her when she'd said he should stop trying? She bit her tongue before she blew up at him. Although she didn't need sleep, she did want a nice hot bath and to relax, but she also needed to get away from him, especially if he was getting clingy. "Go make yourself comfortable. I'll be back with food."
"Is it safe?" He peered into the darkness. She reached past him and flipped on the lights, which revealed a living room with cream-colored carpet and blue couches in an L-shape facing a television. The blinds were closed over what would be a nice set of windows during the daytime.
"Yes, it's warded, which means that no supernatural creature can enter uninvited."
"Right. Good." He staggered to the couch and flopped on it. "I'll be right here when you get back."
Of course now he'd made her anxious, so she checked the place. Nothing hid in either of the bedrooms or bathrooms, or in any of the closets.
"Don't open the door for anyone," she warned him. "And try to remain alert if you can. You have my phone number should you need me. I'll just be down the street picking up pho. Is that okay?"
"Pho sounds perfect." He smiled at her. "Thanks for taking care of me."
"You're welcome." For some reason, his words annoyed her. She let herself out and locked the door behind her.
8
Maggie tucked her hair under her hat. She walked out of the back entrance of the condo complex in case Niniane had found them and had someone watching the front door. She paused, opening her senses to the surroundings. To her right, parking decks on either side of the drive would make perfect hiding places for dastardly creatures. A small garden to her left could also conceal something or someone. The air held a slight whiff of sulfur toward the garden, so she turned the other direction. When she'd passed midway along the parking decks, one of the shadows detached itself from the wall and darted to stand in front of her before she could evade it.
"You have something we want," it said. Its pale face and extended fangs said vampire, a hungry one at that judging from the red glow around its irises.
Maggie backed up and reached in her pocket for her pistol, which was loaded with silver-tipped bullets. Vampires loved her scent. Something about her being human with immortal essence drove them crazy.
A voice from behind her made her shudder. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
She bumped into another one, and it wrenched her hat off with one hand while grabbing her by the hair with the other. She simultaneously slammed one elbow into its solar plexus and kicked backwards with the other foot. Its kneecap crunched under her heel, and it let go with a howl.
But that had given the other one the chance to attack, and it tackled her. She tried to crawl away, but it grabbed her by her feet and clawed its way up her legs. It paused to run a tongue along one gash on her leg. The whoosh of something flying through the air made her cover her head, and the vampire stiffened, then dissolved into smoke and ash. A small stake clattered to the ground.
A change in air pressure above her warned her the one she'd injured had recovered and was attacking again. She grabbed the stake, then jammed it into its throat. It, too, vanished. But the sulfur smell remained. She scrambled to her feet and then rolled as something foul-smelling flew over her. She pulled out her pistol and got a shot off, but it missed and cracked against the brick of the parking deck. She wedged herself into a space where she had a brick wall at her back, but she remained exposed from all other directions.
Don't be stupid. There could be humans around. But she doubted it. Something about were-bats drove them off. Not just the smell, but their sense of wrongness.
So Niniane had stationed vampires on one side and were-bats on the other. Maggie smiled. That meant her cousin was worried. Which meant that Maggie could somehow use the power of the locket to defeat her even with it being inside of Philippe.
And with a stab of sadness, Maggie had to let go of the denial that Niniane could be saved. If she had partnered with the dark creatures, little hope remained.
The were-bat came for another pass, and Maggie got a clear shot. It tumbled backwards, but just as the vamps had used the one to distract her from the other, another were-bat jumped down from above. She darted out of her hiding place, and something else shot the second were-bat. It landed on the ground with a thud.
Maggie rose to her feet, gun in hand, reminding herself to breathe and be aware of whatever else may be out there. Or whoever else. Was the mysterious shooter the ally Lucia had mentioned?
"You can show yourself," she called. "I think that was it."
A black-helmeted figure leaned over the second floor of the parking deck, and Maggie covered her mouth so she wouldn't gasp. Had she fought one set of dark creatures to be faced by yet another, more sinister one? In the two seconds it took for the strange being to remove its helmet, she ticked though all the possibilities of what it could be—troll, dark fae, dark elf, high imp—and what she'd need to do to defend herself.
She exhaled with relief when the helmet revealed not an it, but a he. A very handsome he with bright blue eyes, blond hair damp and curly from being under the helmet, and a square jaw. The best part—his full lips held a grin that said he'd enjoyed the fight as much as she had.
"Down in a second," he said.
Maggie took the few seconds to compose herself. Who was this dark knight? Wait, not a knight, although he did remind her of the ones she'd known in her very distant past. The legends hadn't quite managed to portray how fun they were, and she'd almost forgotten herself. But when she saw him again, she wondered if he perhaps held the soul of one of her old friends reincarna
ted.
Don't be a fool. You can't get hopeful now—you're still cursed for what you did.
"Charles Allen MacKenzie at your service," he said and bowed over the hand she'd held out to shake.
Oh, gods. The increased tempo of her heart, which she hadn't been aware of in ages, warned her she needed to get away from him fast.
"Uh, Margaret Livingstone," she said, using the first surname she'd come up with after being made a Truth Seeker.
He straightened. She tried not to, but she couldn't help but notice how well he wore the modern body armor, his helmet under his arm, and a small crossbow in a holster at his waist.
Then she recognized her rudeness, inexcusable even outside of the age of chivalry. "Thank you for your help with the vamps and were-bats. I was caught unprepared."
Rather than gloat and preen like many men of her acquaintance would, he replied, "And thank you for your help. There were more than I could have handled on my own. I should've brought my team." He shrugged. "My intel was faulty, but that's no excuse."
Maggie closed her mouth. Humble and handsome and charming. Yep, time to go. But she needed to know more in case this was the ally Lucia had meant.
"Who's your team?"
He cocked his head. "Why don't you tell me who you really are, Margaret Livingstone… Of Cornwall?"
Heat flooded her face, and she took a step back. "Why don't you tell me how you know who I really am?"
A car entered the alley, and they moved to the sidewalk.
"Let's talk somewhere private," he suggested.
She could think of lots of things she would like to do with him in private—bad Margaret, bad!—which meant she really needed to get away from him.
"I'm on an important errand. Why don't I call you later?" She walked toward the street.
He stopped by a police car parked just before the alley met the road and dropped his helmet and Kevlar vest in the front seat, leaving him in black pants and turtleneck. After securing the car and running his fingers through his hair to make it less flat, he moved to join her.
Truth Seeker Page 6