by Nina Croft
Christian: So how was the nun?
Piers: Delectable. Sweet as sin. There’s fae blood in there and a lot of it.
Christian: Is she okay?
Piers: What do you take me for—some sort of monster? She was fine, walked out on her own two feet. And she won’t remember a thing.
Christian: Good.
Nothing further came up on the screen, and Roz sat back in the chair and stared at the words. Fae blood? What did that mean? That she was some sort of fairy? No way! Asmodai had never mentioned the fae. But he was a secretive bastard, and she was on a need to know basis. Obviously, the demon hadn’t considered she needed to know the fact that she had fae blood. Or even that the fae existed.
She’d never known what she was. She had vague recollections of her father; he’d been around on and off up until she was about six years old. Then he had disappeared from their lives without trace. Her mother wasn’t the same after that, a shadow of the happy woman she’d been. She’d always sworn that he would never voluntarily leave them, and Roz had presumed he must be dead. He certainly hadn’t been around when the villagers had come for them.
Witch.
The word echoed through the years. Her mother had been a healer. The people had come to her for help and she had saved more than one wretched life. Only to be repaid with her death. Roz had inherited her mother’s healing skills and more, but what might she have inherited from her unknown father?
She sighed and sat back as Maria put a mug of coffee on the table beside her, and carried her own to the sofa.
“Okay,” Roz said, “we require a few ground rules, if you’re going to stay here.”
“I’m good at rules.”
“No habits—I find them depressing. No praying where I can see or hear—it upsets my digestion. Oh, and don’t contact anyone and tell them where you are. And no boys in your room,” she couldn’t resist adding.
She got a faint smile. Maria was recovering. “What am I to wear?” She hitched up the gray sweats. “Your clothes are too big.”
Bitch. Just because she was skinny, no need to rub it in. “Order some stuff off the internet—it will be here by tomorrow.”
“Really?” She pursed her lips. “I have no money.”
“Well luckily, I have plenty.”
“Who are you?”
Well that one was easy to answer. “I have no fucking clue.”
Maria winced at the swear word. “Well whoever you are—you’re a good person.”
No she wasn’t. But maybe she wasn’t all bad either.
She checked occasionally, but there was nothing from the bug through the afternoon and early evening. Ryan called, said they were investigating a few leads and he would let her know if they led to anything. Otherwise, the day had been pleasantly uneventful. She’d set Maria up on the desktop computer, internet shopping, and watched as she flicked through the sites as if starving. Then she’d settled on the sofa with a glass of scotch and a book, but ended up dozing on and off.
It wasn’t until after eleven that there was any further activity from the bug. Roz checked on her houseguest; Maria was curled up in the corner of the sofa, her head resting in one hand, her eyes closed. She still looked pale, with dark shadows under her eyes, but she had held up better than Roz would have believed. Obviously, the nun was made of stern stuff.
Roz shifted on her seat, so Maria wouldn’t see the screen should she awaken, and quickly read the information. It seemed as though Christian and Piers were in the office alone.
Christian: So you’ve found him?
Piers: It wasn’t difficult—I told you—he wanted me to find him. I’ve arranged to meet him at Mason’s, an abandoned warehouse on the docks, tonight.
Christian: You’d still like me along?
Piers: Hell yeah. You can be the voice of reason.
Christian: The two of you have history?
Piers: You could say that.
Christian: Is there anyone you don’t have history with?
Piers: Not many.
Christian: Okay. So about the nun…
Piers: What about her? I told you—she won’t remember a thing.
Christian: You planning on seeing her again?
Piers: Maybe.
Christian: You know, Tara thinks that deep down—admittedly very deep down—you could actually be a nice guy.
Piers: Don’t you two have anything better to do than talk about little old me? And she’s wrong. I’m not nice.
Christian: That’s what I told her. But she reckons all you need is the love of a good woman.
Piers: There is no such thing. Come on, let’s go get some guns.
Christian: Are we going to need them?
Piers: Probably not, but Jack could always manage to piss me off, so let’s be prepared.
Roz sat staring at the screen, but nothing else came up. She reckoned they’d left the room. No doubt, on their way to this meeting with Jack the vampire. Jack the other vampire. Was Christian a blood-sucker as well?
She had to decide what to do. Should she go along?
She read the conversation again while she tried to make up her mind.
So, Piers Lamont was not a nice man. And who was Tara? Was she totally deluded or just misguided?
She’d just decided to set off to the meeting place, but stay out of sight, when her cell phone rang. It was Ryan. They had a solid lead on the missing girl thanks to the picture she’d provided. He was heading over there now.
It took her only seconds to make the decision. Jack would be on his way to meet with Piers and Christian. It was perfect timing—she could help Ryan find the girl and maybe get a chance to search the place. If she got lucky, she might even find the Key. If he still had it in his possession, chances were he wouldn’t take it to any meeting with Piers.
She told Ryan to pick her up on the way through, closed up the laptop, and placed it on the table. Maria was still sleeping, and Roz tiptoed out of the room, pulled on her boots, grabbed her jacket, and left the apartment.
Chapter Six
Piers came to a halt at the entrance to the warehouse. The place was in darkness and as far as he could tell, it was also empty.
Jack was late. Hardly surprising; two thousand years ago, he’d been as unpunctual as hell. Piers couldn’t see how the intervening years locked in a tomb with a pissed-off demoness was likely to have improved his personality.
“You reckon he’ll show?” Christian asked from beside him.
“Hell, yeah. He wants something, and he’s not going to get it without letting me know what the fuck it is. He’s probably just trying to piss me off. He was always good at that.”
“Great,” Christian murmured. “Just what I need.”
Piers grinned. “Hey, I’ve mellowed since then.”
“Since when? Just how do you know this guy?”
He was just about to answer when a sound from above made him raise his head, just as Jack fell from above and landed lightly on his feet in front of them.
Stupid prick must have been hanging from the rafters. He’d always been a show-off. No doubt, that was how the police had picked up on him so quickly. He had no clue how to keep a low profile.
He was dressed all in black—the poser. So were Piers and Christian, but that was beside the point.
“Jack, how nice to see you again after all this time.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. His gaze shifted from Piers to Christian and back again. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“This isn’t a fucking party. Just tell us why we’re here and piss off.”
Jack smiled. “Still bitter, I see. Don’t you think you should have moved on by now?”
Piers opened his mouth to answer, but clamped it closed again. The truth was—he was no longer bitter. He had long ago come to terms with what he was. Hell, he loved what he was. But he hadn’t always felt like this. In the beginning, he’d been mad as hell, and bitter, and probably a little bit twisted. But it suddenly occurred to hi
m that if it wasn’t for the vampire standing in front of him, he would have been dead for the past two thousand years. Maybe he should say thank you. He grinned and felt some of the tension drain from him.
“Jack, how wonderful to see you after all this time. I’d like to say I missed you, but it would be a lie. Now, what can we do for you tonight? Just say what it is you require of us and it shall be done.”
Beside him, Christian snorted.
Jack’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I somehow doubt that.”
So did Piers. “Okay, tell us anyway, so we can kick your ass and get the hell out of this depressing dump.”
Jack pursed his lips. “I’d like to talk to you alone.”
“Why?”
“Because what I have to say is private.”
Piers shrugged. He wanted this over with, and he wasn’t too worried Jack would try anything terminal. Right from the start, Piers had been stronger, and he’d spent the last two thousand years growing in strength while Jack had been incarcerated in a tomb. He turned to Christian. “Would you wait outside?”
For a moment, he thought Christian would refuse; then he nodded and stalked away.
“Now could you get to the point, Jack?”
“Andarta is awake.”
Why didn’t that surprise him? Maybe because it had been Andarta’s mark cut into Sister Maria’s back. Also, he’d known the spell he’d used to imprison Andarta and Jack wouldn’t be permanent, but the truth was, he’d forgotten about the pair of them. How the hell had that happened? At one point, his whole life had revolved around Andarta, the only time he had ever believed himself in love. Hell, he had been in love. But love was never enough.
“And I have the Key of Solon.”
Now, that was bad news. And that was presumably what Jack had taken from the convent. The Key was supposed to have been destroyed long ago.
“So she’s awake. What does she want?” he asked. Stupid question. His total annihilation, the subjugation of mankind, and no doubt, world domination. Same old.
“She doesn’t confide in me,” Jack replied.
“Now who sounds bitter?”
“At least I have good reason. But I can take a guess at your question. She wants the same thing she always has—to bring down the barriers between the worlds and rule the Earth.” He shrugged. “And you.”
“Me?”
He tried to sound surprised, but he wasn’t. Yeah, he was betting she wanted him—wanted him dead. She’d never been the forgiving sort, and he had betrayed her. But not until she had betrayed him, taken away his beliefs, his life, his chance of rebirth.
“Well, you don’t think I looked you up out of fond memories, do you?”
“So where is she?”
“Still confined to the Abyss. She’s regaining strength but doesn’t have the power to enter this world. Yet.”
Piers frowned. Why would Jack tell him this? “You’re being very forthcoming. Why is that? I’m presuming Andarta would like me dead—why tell me she’s still weak?”
Jack gave a short mirthless laugh. “She doesn’t seek your death.”
“No?”
“The stupid bitch wants you back.”
Piers stared at him, the words not quite making sense. Andarta wanted him back? Back as in “lovers”? Was it just a plot to get him close enough to finish him off?
“It’s no trick,” Jack said as though reading his mind. “I’m here to offer you a place at her side. Consort to the Queen.” Jack’s tone was bitter. But then, Andarta’s side was a place Jack had always aspired to, but he had never been more than a servant to her.
Piers paced the floor of the warehouse. He admitted it—he was thrown completely off balance. Plus—he still wasn’t sure he believed it.
“She said to tell you to remember that she’s always admired strength and ruthlessness. She knows you love her—”
“Loved maybe…a long time ago.”
Jack shrugged. “Whatever. Anyway, I’m here to tell you she is willing to forgive you—all you have to do is ask.”
Piers went back to his pacing. The truth was he didn’t know what to say. He had a flashback to that long ago time when Andarta had been his whole world. God, he’d loved her. No other woman had ever come close. An image flashed in his mind of the little nun, Sister Rosa. Why? Why think of her at this point? He shook his head.
“Tell Andarta I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about? Don’t tell me you don’t still desire her. Don’t tell me you’re satisfied with your life—protecting these humans.”
That reminded him. “Are you aware the police have a picture of you?”
“What?” Jack sounded shocked.
“You’ve been careless. They’re hunting for you in connection with a missing girl. Two missing girls.”
“Really?” Then he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter—soon the police will be irrelevant. So what’s your answer?”
“I’d like some time to consider.” He thought for a minute. With the Key in her possession, Andarta would have been able to open the portal between the Abyss and here, however weak she was. Maybe she wouldn’t risk appearing until she had regained her strength, but he didn’t think that was it. “Have you given her the Key?” Jack glanced away, and Piers knew the answer was no. “You don’t trust her, do you?”
“Why the hell would I trust her?” Jack snarled.
“But you do love her.”
“Piss off.”
“Okay.” He’d had enough of this meeting anyway. He needed to think things through. He turned and walked toward the entrance, pausing in the doorway. “Just don’t let the police catch you. Get rid of the girl—make sure the police don’t find her, or we will come after you.”
“OOOO—I’m so scared.”
Piers ignored the comment and exited the building. Christian was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He quirked a brow as he saw Piers. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Is it all sorted?”
“Hardly.” Piers pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed speed dial. “Carl? He’ll be heading back to wherever he left the girl. Follow him—if she’s dead, make sure he disposes of the body where it won’t be found. If she’s alive, keep her that way and take her back to the Order.”
He slipped the phone into his pocket and frowned. He still couldn’t believe it. Andarta wanted him back. How did he feel about that? The truth was he really didn’t know. His head ached, and he rubbed the spot between his eyes.
“Problems?” Christian asked.
He shook his head. “No. Yes... To be honest, I have no idea.”
Christian grinned. “You sound like you need a drink.”
“Yeah, a drink sounds good. Or two.”
…
Roz fastened her seat belt and stared ahead, trying to get her thoughts settled and on the matter at hand.
She couldn’t get her mind off the conversation between Piers and Christian. Asmodai had always told her that the less she knew the better, but he must have been aware that she would discover things through the bug. Did he no longer care?
There would be time to worry about that later. Right now, she had to concentrate on Jessica if she was to be of any help to Ryan. Her powers never worked when she was distracted.
Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind. “So, tell me what you know,” she said to Ryan.
“We had a whole load of calls after we went public with that picture of yours. Some cranks, but a few were obviously genuine, and we narrowed the area down to a section of the Isle of Dogs—which fits in with your description.”
“The smell of the river,” she murmured.
“Yes. And about half an hour ago we got a call saying someone had seen this guy leaving a house in the same area. That’s where we’re heading now.” He glanced at her quickly. “The team will be there. I couldn’t keep this to myself.”
Roz scowled. She’d expected as much, but she didn
’t like it. “Just keep me away from them.”
Ryan reached into his pocket and handed her something. A pin-on badge with “Visitor” in big letters. Roz fixed it to her jacket and stared out of the window some more. They were driving along the embankment now, the river gleaming in the lights. It was close to midnight and the roads were quiet—mainly red buses and the odd cab, but they made good time.
“Will we be able to go in first?”
“Yes, I told the team to wait outside.”
“Good.”
Finally, Ryan pulled into a wide residential road, well lit with streetlights at regular intervals. The houses were tall Victorian terraces with small gardens out front so the buildings were set back from the road. He parked at the edge of the street between two cars. Opposite was a dark van, which she presumed contained his team. He punched on his radio. “Faith?”
“Yeah?”
“Anything happening?”
“Nothing. The place has been in darkness since we got here. We talked to the neighbor and she reckons there’s been no coming or going since she saw our guy leave.”
“Good. You stay put until you hear from me.”
“Okay, boss.”
Ryan turned to Roz. In the dim light, she could see the excited gleam of his eyes. She hoped he wasn’t going to be disappointed.
Please let her be alive. Sending up a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening, she followed Ryan out of the car, then stood for a moment on the pavement. Shutting her eyes, she pictured Jessica, and felt a faint echo resonate deep in her mind. Thank god. She was alive. But just.
Roz started walking and Ryan stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I haven’t told you which house yet.”
She pointed to the one on the corner plot. “There.”
“Shit, that’s spooky.”
She ignored the comment and headed to the house at a fast walk. The wrought iron gate creaked as she pushed it open. A gravel path led up to the dark blue front door with overgrown gardens on either side. There were no lights on inside, and she hesitated at the door. Closing her eyes, she felt again for the fragile flutter of the girl’s mind. Jessica was holding on tenaciously, but her life force was faint and growing fainter.
The door didn’t budge when Roz turned the handle. “Can you kick it in?” she asked