by Nina Croft
Chapter Eleven
The vision kept her wide-awake.
Roz lay, staring out at the night sky through the open curtains. She was exhausted, but sleep eluded her, and she was restless, unable to settle. Finally, she gave up trying and dragged herself out of bed. A short walk in the open air and she might be able to sleep.
Except, what was she supposed to wear? No way was she getting that hated habit out of the bin a third time.
The robe she’d worn the previous night was thrown over one of the chairs, and she pulled that on. But she needed clothes; she would have to sort that out tomorrow. They’d said she wasn’t a prisoner, so maybe she could go shopping. But in what?
There was no sound from Sister Maria’s room as Roz stumbled through into the lounge. But she did find a suitcase sitting by her bedroom door. Her suitcase. Anger flashed through her—she hated the idea of someone pawing through her things. But the anger didn’t last long. She had clothes. Proper clothes. After dragging the case into the bedroom, she opened it and tipped the contents onto the bed.
She found jeans, panties and a tank top, and got dressed. The tank top revealed the sigil, but they had already seen it so that was no problem. She felt almost human by the time she was finished, and she grinned at herself in the mirror. Almost human was as close as she was going to get.
…
Graham was at the reception desk when the elevator opened—though it wasn’t Graham who brought the scowl to her face. Piers lounged against the wall, next to the elevators, arms folded across his chest, a slight smile curving his lips.
“Tell me this is a coincidence,” she muttered. His smile broadened, and she glanced down at herself. “You haven’t got me bugged, have you?”
His lips twitched. “Now there’s an idea. Actually, I told Graham to monitor the elevator from the penthouse.” He pushed himself up from the wall. “Going somewhere?” he asked.
She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. “I need some fresh air. I feel like I’ve been cooped up in a cell all day.” She pursed her lips. “Hey, guess what—I have been cooped up in a cell all day.”
Piers laughed. “I could use some fresh air myself.”
She needed to ease the tension in her brain, not increase it, and he was hardly relaxing company. “I won’t go anywhere.” She put her hand on her chest. “Nun’s honor.”
He laughed again. He had a nice laugh. Sexy as hell. The sound sent little frissons skittering down her spine. Maybe if he could refrain from talking and just give the odd sexy laugh, she might manage to put up with him. “Okay, you may come with me, but only on the condition that you don’t ask any more questions. Because I won’t answer.”
He considered her briefly. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
She looked him over; he was wearing his long, leather trench coat. “You know, it’s July. You probably don’t need the coat.”
He held it open to reveal a positive arsenal of weapons underneath. She counted at least three guns. Would he give one of them to her if she asked nicely?
“Okay, point made. But do you actually need all those weapons?”
“Yes. There might be demons out there.”
“Another good point. Right, let’s move it.”
He led her out of the main doors and paused for a moment. “Anywhere you’d like to go?”
“To the river. I love the river.”
She cast him a sideways glance as they strolled along toward the embankment. “So if you see a demon, you shoot it?”
“Mostly.”
“Seems a little harsh.”
“Most of them are low grade demons. It’s actually easier for the less powerful to slip through the gaps between worlds. They know the rules, they choose to break them, and they take the consequences. And while they have little power, they do have an enormous ability to cause havoc. And most have some exceedingly anti-social habits.”
“Like what?”
“You really don’t know much, do you?”
“Actually, I know a lot. I know how to fly a plane and sail a boat. I can speak thirty seven languages, I’m a certified diver, I’ve—”
He held up a hand. “Okay, I was wrong. But you know nothing about our world.”
“So teach me.”
“Honey, there are so many things I’d like to teach you, but the anti-social habits of lesser demons is pretty low down on the list.”
She ignored the innuendo. “Okay, tell me about the fae instead.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“That won’t take long. The fae can be summed up in two words…they’re assholes.”
“Come on, tell me. Pretty please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely…”
He talked in his low, rich voice of times long past, before the Shadow Accords. He described the beauty of the Faelands, the sweet taste of fae blood, the wars that had nearly torn the Earth apart.
She realized she could listen to him forever. His words mesmerized her as his mind powers had not. They reached the river and strolled along the embankment, breathing in the scents and watching the lights glint on the oily black water. Occasionally, they would pass a homeless person, curled up sleeping. When they passed one man awake, a brindle dog at his side, Piers reached into his pocket and tossed him some coins.
“I like dogs,” he said when she cast him a surprised glance.
They must have walked for hours, but finally he halted, raised his head, and sniffed the air. “We have to go back. Dawn will be here soon.”
“Do vampires really go up in a puff of smoke in the sunlight?”
“Younger vamps—yes. I’d just get a really bad case of sun burn.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”
They were silent on the way back, but it was a companionable silence. Surprisingly, she felt comfortable with the vampire. Or maybe comfortable wasn’t the correct word, but she felt safe, and that wasn’t something she could remember feeling since the villagers had come for her and her mother all those centuries ago. That was a long time to be afraid.
Would he try anything when they got back? She was aware he desired her, and part of her wished he would and she could forget everything in a few hours of torrid lovemaking. She was betting Piers was pretty good at clearing a girl’s mind of everything but him, even without the mesmerizing thing.
Back at the SA building, he held the door open for her and followed her in. After pressing the button for the elevator, he considered her for a moment, and she held her breath. She thought about making the first move, but wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal how much she craved his touch, so she waited. In the end, all he did was lean toward her and kiss her lightly on the mouth.
“I think I like you, Rosamund Fairfax. But right now, you’re exhausted. Go back to bed.” And he gently pushed her into the elevator.
His words warmed her. She’d known he wanted her, but liking was a whole different ballgame. She liked him as well.
Back in her room, she stripped off her clothes and crawled into bed. As she fell asleep, she could still taste his kiss on her lips.
…
When she next opened her eyes, it was three o’clock the following afternoon. She had slept for almost ten hours, and she felt amazingly better for it. Stretching, she stared up at the ceiling and considered what she had to do that day.
First, she had to get hold of Asmodai. She still hadn’t heard from Shera—she’d have to phone her and hope she wasn’t in kitty-cat form. Shera would contact Asmodai—she had never found out how—and arrange a meeting for her to hand over the Key. For a moment, she contemplated asking Ryan to hand over the Key for her. But she hated to drag him any further into this world. Right now, he could still get out of this mess unscathed, but not if he encountered Asmodai. Nobody ever came face to face with a demon and got away unchanged.
No, she’d retrieve the Key and hand it over herself. She jumped out of bed and pulled on the
clothes from the night before. Maria was in the kitchen trying to make coffee.
“I heard you were awake,” Maria said. “I thought you’d like some coffee.”
“Thanks.” Roz took over. “I’ll sort out getting you back to the mother house today.”
“Will they let me go?”
“Of course.”
“Will it be safe?”
“Yes.” At least, she was 99 percent sure it would be safe, and that was better than could be said of most places. She had a memory of the vision she’d had the night before. Jack knew his Key was missing. But there was nothing to tie that theft to her or the Little Sisters of Mercy. There was no reason for them to attack the mother house—unless there was something hidden in the catacombs there as well, and how likely was that? “Yes, you’ll be safe,” she said with more conviction.
Maria bit her lip. “After all this…I just don’t know anymore. I’m not sure what I want, or what I believe.”
“Well, time in the mother house will help you see.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
Unlike down in the cells, Roz found she had internet access and a cell phone signal up here. She checked the bug—but obviously, Piers hadn’t gone to his office the previous night, and there was nothing to show.
She managed to get a hold of Shera in the late afternoon. She said she’d contact Asmodai and get back to her with a time and a place. Roz told her to hurry, and she replied that she’d go as quickly as she could be bothered. They’d never been friends.
Next, Roz needed to coordinate with Ryan, and arrange to pick up the Key on the way to the meeting with Asmodai. She didn’t want it in her possession any longer than absolutely necessary, but until Shera got back to her she had no clue of when and where the rendezvous would be.
Finally, she called back just as the sun was going down and told Roz that Asmodai would meet her outside St Paul’s cathedral at midnight.
Why the hell did he always have to be so melodramatic?
She called Ryan, got his voicemail, and asked him to ring her back as soon as possible, then got herself ready. The night was warm; she wouldn’t need a jacket, but she pulled a flannel shirt on over her tank top. Glancing up, she found Maria hovering in the doorway of her room.
“Are you going out?”
She nodded. “I have to meet someone.”
“Can I come with you? I’m scared to stay here alone. These…people make me nervous.”
Very perceptive. Roz thought for a minute. But there was no reason why not. She could leave Sister Maria with Ryan while she met with Asmodai, or ask Ryan to bring her back here. He owed her a favor. Or there was another option. “Would you like me to sort out a car to take you to the mother house?” Ryan might know someone who would be willing to drive tonight. If this went down okay, Roz would be making herself scarce very quickly, and it might be best if the Sister Maria was safely away as well.
She looked unsure for a moment. Roz suspected the last few days had tested if not Maria’s belief in God, then her trust that he would keep her safe. But finally, she nodded.
“Okay,” Roz said, “but we have to wait for Ryan to call first.”
Her cell went off at that moment, and she glanced at the caller ID. Thank God. She could get this over and done with.
“Ryan, I need that thing I gave you. Can I come and pick it up?”
“It’s at home.”
“And where are you?”
“I’m at the London Bridge Hospital interviewing Jessica Thomas.”
“Pretty late for visiting hours.”
She could imagine his shrug. “She called in, said she was remembering—she’s been pretty unhelpful up to now.”
“So how long will you be there?”
“Actually, you could come and meet me, and we’ll go to my place from here.”
“Okay. There’s something else you could do for me. Sister Maria needs to get to Devon; would you know of someone who could drive her there?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, she’s feeling a little homesick for the convent.”
“I’ll make a few calls.”
“Thanks.”
They arranged to meet at the hospital outside the reception area; Ryan had an apartment not far from there. She had a couple of hours before she had to meet Asmodai. It was all working out perfectly.
…
“They’re heading out. Should we stop them?”
Piers stared into space for a moment. “No. Give them the illusion of freedom, but don’t lose them.”
He didn’t think she would run. They’d made a real connection last night. He’d liked walking with her, talking together. Always, in the past, he’d been a loner and kept his own counsel, but being with her had felt right. Maybe he was going soft. But if he was, he liked the feeling, and anticipated exploring it further.
All the same, connection or not, he wasn’t going to risk his little nun vanishing as he was sure she must be capable of. She’d lived for more than five hundred years and managed to stay invisible all that time. That required some talent.
So he’d have a couple of his men tail them. He’d had people watching the guest suite all through the day, but according to the reports, neither of the women had left the place. Now darkness had fallen and they were on their way out. But where?
His phone rang. It was Graham from reception.
“There’s a man on the phone. He says his name is Jack. He’d like to talk to you.”
“Really? You’d better put him through.”
He sat back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and tried to guess what the hell Jack wanted. He hadn’t expected to hear from him again so soon.
What could he have to say that couldn’t have been said at their meeting?
“What have you done?” Jack snarled.
Fury. Pure, unadulterated fury. The emotion sizzled down the phone line. Something must have happened since they’d last met, and whatever it was had pissed Jack off. The girl had been found, but the loss of one donor was hardly going to have this effect.
“I don’t know. Are you going to give me a clue?”
“Where’s my fucking Key?”
“Your Key? The Key you stole from the convent?”
“You know what Key I’m talking about. Where is it?”
“Do you really think if I went to the bother of getting this Key from you, that I would calmly hand it back?”
“If you want to ally yourself with Andarta, you will.”
Maybe it was time to give Jack the good news. “Well, you see—here’s the thing. I don’t.”
Jack was silent for a minute. “You’d turn her down?”
“Oh, yeah.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Now, why don’t you calm down and explain just why you think I have this Key.”
Piers could hear ragged breathing on the other end of the phone. Rage wasn’t the only emotion Jack was feeling, but fear as well. Bordering on terror. Andarta was never one to take failure well, and he doubted two thousand years imprisoned in a tomb would have improved her disposition.
“You should have handed it over straight away,” he murmured.
“Piss off.”
However much Piers loathed the other vampire, they had a close connection, closer than father and child. Jack had made him what he was. The transition had been against his will, and it had not gone smoothly—Piers had fought every step of the way. Back then, he would have preferred death to everlasting life. At that point, he had still believed in the gods, and that the only way his soul would be freed was through mortal death. And Andarta and her machinations had put an end to that possibility. Jack had been her servant, and she’d thought to make Piers another.
She’d underestimated him and paid the price.
“You have to have it.” Jack spoke again, desperation clear in his voice.
“Tell me what you know. Where was it hidden?”
“At the house I was staying in.”
“Th
e one the police raided?” Piers asked.
“You know about that? So it was you?”
“No. I knew about the police raid—I warned you it was only a matter of time. They had your picture. So could the police have taken the Key?”
“No way. It was hidden—by a spell. I’m not a fool. Whoever found it must have used magic to break the spell and reveal the hiding place.”
“A witch or warlock working with the police? I don’t think so.” Piers was thinking furiously, though. “What else?”
“I questioned one of the police officers.”
“You did?”
“Don’t worry—he won’t remember.”
“So what did you learn?”
“There was a woman working with the lead officer on the case. She wasn’t police; in fact, the others had never seen her before. She went in first and came out before the officer. Are you going to tell me that’s she’s not one of yours?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Whoever has your Key, it’s not us.”
“Us?” Jack muttered. “I still can’t believe you’re working for this set-up.”
Piers didn’t bother answering. He sometimes found it difficult to believe himself. And he was eager to get back to whomever this person was who was assisting the police, because he was beginning to have a few ideas, and they weren’t making him happy. As soon as he got rid of Jack, he’d call his men trailing Roz and tell them to be extra vigilant.
“You know something,” Jack said when Piers remained silent.
“Well, if I did, I’d hardly be telling you, now would I?”
“Don’t you think you’ve had your pound of flesh—two thousand fucking years’ worth of flesh? So I turned you—if I hadn’t you’d be ashes and dust by now.”
“I know, and surprisingly, I’m grateful. That doesn’t change the fact that you turned me without my consent.”
“I had no choice. Andarta wanted you.”
“And what Andarta wants, she gets?”
“Yes.”
“Well, not from me.”
“It will hardly be my problem if I don’t get that Key back—she’ll finish me.”
“And I’ll cry—really I will.”
“Fucking sarcastic bastard.”