“Yes,” he confirmed, more confident this time.
“Midas,” she squealed. “That’s fantastic.” She flung herself at me. “What great news.”
This wasn’t going the way I expected, so I wasn’t certain what to do except pat her back. “Thanks?”
“I don’t mean to blubber all over you.” She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “This is just—amazing.”
“It’s definitely something.” Awkward. A little uncomfortable. Moist. “You two have plans?”
“Not anymore.” She pumped her fist then lifted my hand for a high-five. “Now I can go mope in my apartment and shovel ice cream down my throat while I lament the man of my dreams standing me up for tickets to a Falcons game.” She dropped my arm. “It’s not even the playoffs. Just a plain old football game.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, well.” She shook her head. “The abs get me every time. It’s like a have a xylophone obsession. Know what I mean?”
Having never played a man like a musical instrument, I had to admit defeat. “No?”
“I should let you guys get back to what you were doing.” She winked at me. “Have fun.”
“I’m sure I will.” I watched as she virtually skipped across the lobby before turning to Midas. “She really did not want to go out with you.”
“She was on the list.” He shrugged. “She was doing her duty.”
“Now I feel kind of bad,” I confessed. “You might have actually enjoyed that date.”
Liesl struck me as the kind of woman who entertained herself. He could have sat back, listened to her chatter, and enjoyed a meal that didn’t end with the other party trying on his last name for size.
“I prefer cold fire escape pizza.”
I doubted the warmth curling through me could be blamed on reflux, but I was willing to try. “Me too.”
The moment snapped taut and broke when Midas shifted his focus out the glass front entrance.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He jerked his chin. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
The pixie girl waited a safe distance from the day shift doorman, who was pulling a double to cover for Hank until he returned tomorrow.
“I’m almost afraid to ask what she wants, but we can’t ignore her. That’s our way out.” Taking point, I turned back to him. “Stay here a minute. Who knows what she’s packing tonight?” I scanned the street, but it was empty. “Her car’s in the shop, so her weapon of choice is out of commission. It ought to be safe enough.”
Midas parted his lips, but he shut his mouth and let me go.
“There you are,” Remy grumbled. “I was starting to think I’d missed you, but this jerk wouldn’t tell me if you were in or not, and he wouldn’t let me into the lobby to check with the desk either.”
“The desk guy went on vacation last year and never came back.” Hubert, I think. He was before my time. “He was so well disliked, the Faraday elected not to hire a replacement.” I gestured to the uniformed gwyllgi. “These days, if you make it past the front door, you’re in.”
A calculating gleam sparked in her eyes. “Good to know.”
Wishing I had kept my mouth shut, I soldiered on. “What are you doing here?”
“Take it.” She thrust a crumpled napkin at me. “Maybe that will help you find your friends.”
“College Park.” The address outside of town didn’t ring any bells. “Where is this?”
“You didn’t get that from me.” She backed up a few steps. “I was never here.”
A backpack cut into her narrow shoulders, and a lunchbox swung from a clip.
“Are you going to work?”
“Cajun Wok fired me.” Her lips twisted. “Too many complaints from customers about the service.”
This girl had been nothing but trouble since the night I met her, and she had attempted to murder Midas and me, but the longer I studied her, the more I saw myself. A person with no great options who had chosen all the bad ones, who might keep on choosing the bad ones if no one offered her a guiding hand.
Guess this was me, paying it forward.
“You can’t Swyft until your car is fixed, so where does that leave you?”
“Are you my mother or something?”
Thank the goddess, no. “How did you come by this information?”
“I’m no snitch.” She wet her lips. “I owed your boyfriend, and that’s payment.”
“Do you have any savings? How are you going to support yourself until you get another job?”
“Look, Mom, I’ll make it work.”
A tube of toothpaste slid out and hit the sidewalk, and her current situation made itself clear.
“You were living out of your car.”
“What about it?” She straightened. “I can’t afford a house, so why not kit out my ride?”
Between her short fuse blowing jobs out of the water and her unpaid Swyft gigs, I readjusted my previous estimate of her income. The math was grim.
“Go to this address.” I passed her a metallic card from my wallet. “As long as you have this on you, you can come and go as you like. There’s a passcode on there, but it won’t help you if you lose the card. Lose the card, and you won’t be able to see the entrance, let alone cross the threshold.”
“Don’t lose the card.” She turned it over in her hand. “Got it.” She shoved it in her pocket. “I’ll think about it.”
I learned during my first week in training not to lecture, nag, or pressure. Forcing someone to do what you wanted wasn’t the same as offering them help. They were going to do what they would do, and nothing I did would influence them either way. Best for all involved if I acted in accordance with my conscience and let them do the same.
Once she trudged off, hand patting her pocket where the card rested, Midas exited the building.
Eyes on her retreating back, he stuck out his hand. “Can I see the address?”
Gwyllgi hearing being what it was, I wasn’t shocked he had overheard our conversation. “Sure.”
“This is an old meat processing plant.” He passed the napkin back. “It’s been closed for three years.”
“A meat processing plant? Really? It couldn’t be somewhere entry-level creepy. No, it had to go corporate.”
“It’s about ten miles away.” Midas watched the flow of traffic. “About a fifteen-minute drive.”
“Her car’s in the shop,” I reminded him. “I doubt you have to worry about her making a second attempt.”
“You can never be too careful.” He slanted his eyes toward me. “She’s got friends in high places.”
Rolling in my lips to keep from laughing, I threaded my arm through his. “How do you propose we get to College Park?”
Neither of us had cars, and a Swyft might complicate things depending on what we found.
“We’ll take my truck.” He didn’t look happy about it. “It’s in the parking deck.”
“You have a truck?” Problem solved. “Why don’t you ever use it?”
“People drive like nuts here.”
“You’re a native Atlantan.”
“I’m also the recent victim of an attempted vehicular homicide.”
“I…” I didn’t have a leg to stand on. “I see your point.”
We altered course and headed back into the lobby, grabbed the elevator, and rode it all the way down. The parking garage was small and exclusive. Not all residents had access. It was also clean as a whistle, and obvious video cameras made certain anyone down here was aware they were being recorded.
“This is your truck?” I gawked at the battered tin can on wheels. “Are you serious?”
“I never drive it.” He checked under the wheel wells until he located a hide-a-key box. “The others use it for extractions and to haul supplies.”
Deep gouges and claw marks scored the finish. “What kind of extractions?”
“The kind where you don’t drive a car you ever want to see again.” Midas rounded the tailgate, we
ll, there was no tailgate. Just the bed with beer can netting duct taped together and strung across it. “Ladies first.”
“A gentleman,” I teased, secretly pleased by the gesture.
Midas squeezed the handle and yanked, and the door came off in his hand. “Hop in.”
So much for his gentlemanly leanings. “Uh, sure.”
Hopping was involved with Ford’s truck. It was jacked up and required effort to climb in or out. This took neither. I had to bend my knees a touch to get in, and I still sank into the bench almost down to the floorboard.
Midas slammed the door, and I jumped. I didn’t miss his smile when he brought out the bungee cords to hold it in place.
The law-abiding citizen in me shriveled with the urge to lecture him on what a terrible idea it was to trust a few pieces of elastic to keep me safe, as there were no seat belts, or prevent it from popping off and wreaking havoc behind us should it fall into traffic.
While he rounded the hood, I brought out my phone and texted Linus.
Midas is driving me out to College Park to follow up on a lead.
>>Driving you?
In his truck.
>>Goddess.
>>Text me to let me know when you make it home.
That was encouraging.
“Linus?” Midas slid behind the wheel, leaning left and right, familiarizing himself with the layout.
That was definitely encouraging.
The truck coughed and spluttered to reluctant life, Midas backed out, and we began our adventure.
I missed most of it, opting to cover my face with my hands during the ride. The cool breeze whipping my hair from the door struggling against the bungees told a story I didn’t want to witness. The rattle and bang of the engine and whatever else made cars go convinced me it was on death’s door.
Bonus.
This way, no one who saw me in it would recognize me.
When the death rattle slowed and then quit, I risked peeking between my fingers. “Are we there?”
“You’re talking to me now?”
Lowering my hands, I took in the scenery. “I was never not-talking to you.”
“I asked if you were okay three or four times. You never answered.”
“Sorry.” I scooted close to him, intending to slide out on his side. “I didn’t hear you over my praying.”
Midas didn’t budge as expected. He sat there, me smushed against him, and gave every appearance of evaluating the sensation as though he wasn’t sure if he liked it or disliked it, if he wanted more or couldn’t handle what he had.
“Are you getting out?” I hip checked him. “I’m cool with sharing your door.”
His left hand rose, and he watched it with the same detached fascination as he trailed warm fingertips over my cheek. “You’re soft.”
Afraid one wrong move would spook him, I held perfectly still. “I moisturize.”
As if coming awake, he curled his fingers into a fist and lowered it to his side. “I’ll get out of your way.”
The urge to reach for him, to hold him in the moment, trembled in my fingers, but I let him retreat.
I couldn’t keep him, and he couldn’t keep me. We were a disaster waiting to happen.
He was a nuclear option that would implode my entire world if I let him.
Six weeks.
Six little weeks, we break up, and I move on.
No more gwyllgi boys for me.
No more boys for me period.
That sensation wringing my chest tighter? Definitely happiness over having made the right decision.
“Look.” I extracted myself from the truck’s rusty clutches. “See that cargo bay door?”
Midas angled his body in that direction. “It’s not closed all the way.”
“Smell anything?” I breathed a sigh of relief to be back on solid ground. “Any Martian Roaches?”
“Nothing.” He cocked his head. “This was a meat packing plant. In its heyday, old blood formed scent layers that sank into the grout and concrete. I can’t see all traces of its former occupation being sanitized away.”
“You’ve been out here before?”
“When it was in operation, yes. They were a major supplier for the pack.”
That made sense, and it gave us a leg up since he was familiar with the place. “Ever been inside?”
“They offer tours to prospective clients, including a tasting for the meat they cut during their demonstration.” He caught my look. “They’re a human-owned company. They grilled the meat first.”
Blinking slowly, I tried for innocent. “I didn’t say a thing.”
“You had that look women get when they wonder if they can stomach a gwyllgi when things get real.”
“What I have is the look of a woman who prefers her steak served negative moo, just this side of charcoal briquet. When someone orders their steak ‘waved over the flame,’ I’m done. Dare I say well done. I can’t deal.” I shuddered. “It’s gross when your plate gets all bloody, and the juices mix in with your sides. Ick. I’m not apologizing.” I walked up to him, put us toe to toe, and felt Ambrose peek over my shoulder. “Besides, I’m not sure you can stomach me when things get real. What do you say to that?”
“There’s something about you…” He slid his gaze over my face without purchase. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Actually, you did put your finger on it.” Humor disarmed him, and so I weaponized it. “About five minutes ago.”
The shallow dents that suggested hidden dimples winked at me, but he didn’t give me the full treatment, just turned and prowled away.
A flick of my fingers sent Ambrose racing ahead to inspect the area.
Midas and I reached it at the same time, thanks to my inability to let him beat me. I reined in my competitive nature long enough to pretend I was examining the handle, the busted lock, and the area beneath for traps, when in reality I was hiding the stab of Ambrose spiking my brain to give his report.
The area had been warded, but not well. Midas was right in that a place like this ought to have remnants of its past life threaded through its walls and leaked onto its floors. Instead, just like the sewers after Bishop and Ford vanished, it smelled of nothing.
“It’s clear.” I gripped the handle, rolled up the door, and cursed at what I saw. “That can’t be good.”
Ford’s pickup sat there with its doors flung open. Its formerly pristine bed was caked with rust-colored smears that tapered like the ends of grasping fingers.
“Are you getting anything from that?” I kept an eye on Ambrose, taking my cues from him. “I didn’t feel a ward, but we must have passed through one.”
Mocking me for playing dumb, Ambrose zipped over to indicate the exact spot where the magic began.
Midas filled his lungs, his nostrils flaring, but he shook his head. “Nothing.”
“A double-walled ward?” I mumbled, pretending to muse when I was asking Ambrose. “Is that a thing?”
The shadow feigned distaste at having to lower himself to explaining magic to a plebe, but oh well. That’s what he got for targeting a Low Society necromancer with about as much juice in her veins as a human.
About to jerk his chain and demand an answer for his bad attitude, it hit me. I was the one falling down on the job here. Reaching into my pocket, I dug out three vanilla espresso truffles, each one topped with a chocolate-covered espresso bean, and—once Midas turned his back—tossed them into the shadow pouting at my feet.
The outrageously expensive candy disappeared, and Ambrose snapped back into his mostly Hadley shape before investigating my theory.
“Double-walled ward?” Midas glanced back when I went quiet. “What does that mean?”
Ambrose stung me, right behind the eye, and I tasted chocolate in the back of my throat as he reported.
“The property is warded. That’s why you can’t smell the building from the road. We’re inside, so we should be picking up on gasoline or exhaust from the truck.” Or the
dried blood crusting the bed. “But it’s springtime fresh in here. That makes me wonder if there aren’t concentric rings shielding the different areas.”
“The shielding must be weak if we crossed without sensing it.”
“Depends on what the wards do. Not all of them are designed to keep things out.”
Some patterns were meant to keep things in.
“Do you think they’ll get stronger as we move closer to the center?”
“Good question.” I located the door and pushed it open. “Let’s find out.”
Ambrose made himself scarce, investigating the cavernous room before us that had been scrapped down to the bolts. No hint of the business’s former purpose remained, except for the tiled floors installed on a slant to allow for spraying down certain areas that sloped toward industrial-grade drains.
Unlike the first two ward rings, I felt the third as a faint tingle dancing the length of my spine.
“Did you feel that?” I waited for Midas to nod. “I think we just crossed another line.”
“The air is heavier here.” He breathed deeply. “There’s an underlying scent, but I can’t place it.”
“Magic,” I guessed, based on Ambrose taste-testing the air and his salivary reaction.
We pressed on, through four more increasingly viscous barriers, until Ambrose froze on the threshold of a room.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about what’s behind that door.” I reached for the handle. “Here goes nothing.”
“Wait.” Midas touched his fingers to my wrist. “Let me shift first.”
Busy watching Ambrose for clues, I missed Midas slide into his four-legged shape. Pity. I usually enjoyed the show. The crimson magic was flashy, and if I was being honest, it felt intimate. He was sharing himself with me when he made the change, showing me he was comfortable in both skins around me, trusting me not to harm him during those fleeting seconds when he was most vulnerable.
Even if I experienced the urge to reciprocate, I couldn’t. The risk was too great. Courting wasn’t the same as mating, and neither of them came with NDAs. Anything I revealed to him during this time, he could use against me later. I wasn’t saying I wanted to keep him, I didn’t know him well enough yet for that, but I liked the idea of him wanting to keep me.
Pack of Lies Page 14