From the moment I got the call sending me here, I'd been trying to come up with possibilities for his natural form—there were only so many things that sparked and exploded. Now that I had a look at him, I knew. He appeared to be a type of gargoyle, a rock carving made of a yellow-beige pitted clay that gave him the appearance of being pock-marked and overlaid with white crystal salt deposits.
"You're made of saltpeter, right? That's how you made the fireworks," I said. Only a few steps until he was within reach...
"Nitratine, human scientists say. More accurate. You know what salt does to us."
"Whatever. What I don't understand is how you exist."
Of all the gargoyles I'd encountered before, none had had such a human shape, nor this much intelligence with freedom. Rock creatures had to sacrifice one for the other. It was what made them lower echelon: less magic, less freedom, less intelligence, less humanoid.
Flint turned his face to me then. He was remarkably beautiful. The hurt in his eyes captured my attention, twisted like a knife to the gut.
"Magic," he said.
He threw open the door and leapt out into the night.
2
A blast of heat roared out of the ceiling but was quickly replaced by a shocking chill as I pushed through the second set of doors. Flint had left shining tracks in the hard-packed snow on the sidewalk.
The night wind bit at my cheeks and ears, threw open my unbuttoned coat, and set my teeth chattering. My nose began to run. This breath of winter would zap away Flint's energy more quickly than it would mine. He wouldn't get far.
I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and hustled along the sidewalk. Toronto was alive with moving vehicles. A few brave souls even ventured down Front Street on foot. A little cold spell wouldn't keep honest Canadians indoors. Nothing kept this city down. Not the Leafs' losing streak. Not SARS. Not even the things they couldn't explain after a faerie encounter.
Although I frequented the gym in my building and made use of the treadmill, I was breathing pretty hard. Gulps of cold air shocked my burning lungs. The cold robbed my lips of moisture, blurred my vision with tears. I felt like a newborn thrust out into a harsh, cruel world. Maybe it was time to move to Florida.
God, I hate winter.
I followed Flint's tracks to where an orange and green taxi was pulling away from the curb.
Bloody hell.
My car was in a lot, too far away. I scanned the area for another taxi nearby.
Where the hell are all the taxis?
My cell phone rang. The display said it was Oshaun, our agency's scientist.
"You got my message?"
"Are you out?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm on the sidewalk on Front Str—"
"Stay out for ten minutes. I've rigged the air conditioning system."
The need to keep faeries a secret from humans was about to trump my ability to find out more about this guy. Everyone in that building would be inhaling a compound created by Oshaun that would make them forget what they saw.
"Wait. Are you here? I haven't questioned anyone yet--"
She didn't hear my protest because she'd already hung up.
Damn it.
The taxi—and Flint—were long gone.
The foot chase had taken me above ground across the street from the Hockey Hall of Fame. As my breathing calmed down, I grew used to the noise of the traffic, and then picked up a new sound.
Somewhere nearby, a child sobbed.
I gave up the search for a taxi and started scanning the shadows, the building crevices. I cut my gaze down to the ground, to a child's height.
Why in the world would a child be out in this weather, alone?
She stepped away from the building, and I saw her.
She wore a wool coat in a purply-pink colour—or more accurately, the colour of frost-dusted black raspberry canes. The cut of the coat was old fashioned—it had a collar and belled out down to knee-length—the kind of coat the British Royal family put on their toddlers.
This girl was about six years old and clutching a dingy stuffed polar bear to her chest.
"Hi," I said. "Are you lost?"
I tried for friendly, not wanting to startle her, but I was startled. A concerned tone saturated my words.
She sniffled but nodded. Her skin was a pale, pale pink, perhaps tinged with frostbite. She kept her gaze on the ground. On my boots.
For a second, I thought maybe she didn't have anything on her feet, but then I noticed she wore boots as white as snow. Her wool tam was navy blue and she had matching mittens.
"It's freezing out here," I said. "I know where it's warm; want me to show you?"
She nodded so I held out my hand. She took it. I'd hoped to find warmth for my own hand in her mitten, but the wool was cold.
I headed back for the doors to the mall. We stood between the two sets of doors with the heaters blasting us with hot air, staring out at the cold crisp night. I positioned myself so I could keep an eye on her and watch for movement at the bottom of the stairs, hoping to flag down someone who could help.
"Do you have a name?" I asked. "My name's Julia."
She sniffed. "Ruby."
Her voice was heartbreakingly sad.
We'd only been under the heat for a few minutes when I started to sweat inside my coat. The vestibule filled with beer fumes wafting from my clothing.
"Were you out with your parents tonight?"
She didn't answer.
"It's okay," I said. "I won't get you in trouble. I just want to help. Sometimes I get lost, too."
I only had to keep her here for a little longer. The security guards would be going by at any time.
And every second that ticked by, Flint got farther away. I could still get into a cab, flash my badge and get the cab company to give me his destination—so long as they didn't fight me too hard on the privacy laws—but only if I got out there soon. My fae-dar was still tingling; he must still be close.
I didn't want to just abandon the girl; she'd clearly become disoriented by the cold. As soon as she warmed up, she'd be crying to go home.
"We're all lost," she said. "You more than most."
"Huh?" I said intelligently. Did I hear her correctly?
"We could help each other."
"Okay, we'll help each other." I nodded, and hoped I sounded sincere. "Where do you live?"
She didn't answer.
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "We could go downstairs and get something to eat. There's a few restaurants not far from here."
She shook her head vigorously.
"Okay. No food."
Now what was I going to do?
"Ever been to a hockey game?"
Another shake of her head. Less vigorous this time.
"Want to go watch? I can sneak us in the back—" I caught a glimpse of something dark from the corner of my eye. Like the navy of a police uniform. A pair of police officers were moving through the underground mall. I waved for them to come up the stairs while keeping an eye on the kid. Her blank stare never wavered from the windows.
The cops saw me—thank god—and headed up the stairs.
As soon as they were through the doors, I blurted, "Hey guys, I seem to have found this lost child."
They stared at me. I recognized one of them, Wheeler. His uniform had a pair of hand-shaped scorch marks on the chest of his coat. Flint hadn't penetrated through to skin. Thank goodness.
"Is this a joke?" the other one asked.
"No—" I turned to the girl, but she was gone. "Uh—"
"So glad we have Cee-sus on the case." Wheeler snorted.
He remembered me. Crap. They must have missed Oshaun's potion.
"She was skittish. You must have scared her. She probably ran outside. Did you see the door open?" I hadn't heard the door open, nor had I felt a draft. I had no idea how she got out without me noticing, but it was the only explanation that made sense.
The officers looked at each other.
G
reat. They probably thought I was making this up.
"She couldn't have gone far," I said to the officers. They hovered between the doors. They stared at me as if I belonged in a loony bin.
"Okay. I'll go find her and bring her back. Wait here."
Wheeler grumbled something about wasted tax money funding a useless organization.
I pushed open the door, grateful for the icy blast for about ten seconds before I regretted being out there.
I scanned the sidewalks and the road, but there was no sign of her. I searched the sidewalks to see if I could detect her little boot prints, but the snow and ice mix was compact. None of the prints were recent.
I was tired from a long day. I must have let my guard down. I must have zoned out for a second. I'd been more interested in finding someone to hand her off to; I must have missed it when she slipped outside.
So why wasn't I finding a single trace of that little girl or her stuffed bear?
That magenta coat should have been easy to see out here in the grey city, even by streetlight.
I jogged the sidewalks up and down the street for nearly half an hour.
No sign of Ruby.
I went back to report to the officers, but they'd given up and gone about their business. Probably as soon as the door shut behind me.
I texted Oshaun about the two officers needing to be sprayed, stalked the streets until I couldn't feel my toes, and then decided to call it a night and head home.
Great. I'd lost Flint and didn't even have a rescued girl to make up for it. The lecture from my boss was going to be epic.
3
By the time I pulled into the underground parking garage I was exhausted, and barely remembered to tuck my gun under my seat and lock the doors before I left my car. The elevator carried me up to the top floor of the condominium. I reached for the knob, but the door opened.
"I thought I heard you—" He froze. His eyes bulged as he took in my appearance. "What happened?"
While I was clearly a mess, Luke was nicely decked out in one of his good suits, silk shirt, silk tie. Crap. I'd forgotten all about our night. The last thing I wanted was to get dressed up to go eat at a fancy-pants restaurant. All I wanted was a hot shower or maybe a long bath in which I could go over what happened tonight, strategize for tomorrow, when I had to report to my boss.
"You smell like a brewery." His nose wrinkled as he stepped aside, examining me as I passed.
That's my Luke. Never stops examining. That's what I get for falling for a doctor.
I fed him a lame excuse about the client being drunk and spilling his beer on me, and followed up with a remark about rewriting his policy because of it.
He looked so good I just wanted to collapse into his arms and fall into bed with him.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I said.
"It's okay. I pushed back our reservation. We can go as soon as you're ready." He reached out to cup my face, tracing my cheek with his thumb. He noticed my hesitation.
"You'd rather not go, am I right? It's fine. You're tired. I understand." His tone was so kind, I knew with his next words he would insist we stay home, which was exactly what I wanted. But he'd been looking forward to this all week. Even though it was closer to bedtime than dinner time, he was still in his suit. He still hadn't given up on me.
Any man who would wait this long to eat a meal with me deserved better than pyjamas and reheated leftovers in front of the television.
"We're going," I said firmly. "Give me five minutes." I looked down at my soaked coat and realized that not only would a shower be required, but I'd have to find a suitable replacement coat in my jam-packed closet. "Make that ten."
"I'll push back the reservation another thirty minutes," he said. "That gives you twenty-nine minutes to shower and one minute to put on something comfortable."
His voice was low, his eyes playful.
I laughed. "One minute? Is that all?"
"You're right. Thirty seconds." He grinned.
His lips brushed mine.
"You're so good to me," I said. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without you." I pretended to think about that. "I'd probably be starving, and running around wearing spilt beer."
"Good thing I'm here, then, isn't it?" His lips found mine again, and I leaned into it, despite feeling guilty for the way I smelled.
"Half an hour?" I said.
"A little less now."
"Enough time for you to join me?"
He smiled. "I might be persuaded..."
I raised an eyebrow playfully and shrugged out of my coat. "Might be? Guess I'll have to work harder."
I pulled my sweater over my head and started to unbutton my jeans. His eyes darkened. Maybe I wouldn't have to work as hard as I thought. I reached out, undid his belt, and then opened a few buttons on his shirt. That was really all it took for him to come undone.
It was the best shower I'd had in days.
More than half an hour later, a taxi dropped us off at Gregorio's Ristaurante. The cold wind, funneled between skyscrapers, shifted and swirled around my legs. As the taxi pulled away from the curb to join the rest of traffic, the little hairs on the back of my neck tingled.
There was a faerie nearby.
Shit.
I wrinkled my nose against the bitter wind as I glanced down the street. The feeling was faint, so it likely wasn't in viewing distance, but somewhere inside one of these populous buildings.
"Is something wrong?" Luke asked. It seemed like maybe he thought I was questioning his choice of restaurants.
"Nothing. Gregorio's is perfect. It's where we had our first date."
"So what's troubling those beautiful blue eyes?"
I shrugged a shoulder. "Thought I heard sirens or a fire alarm." It was close to the truth.
"Always working," he said with a chuckle.
The sensation warning me of the proximity of the faerie faded and I quickly ushered Luke inside. "It's freezing out here."
Every lie was another weight dropped in my gut. I couldn’t help but feel the need to be careful not to let the scales tip too much. I wanted this relationship. Despite what my boss might believe, I could make this cover work.
The waiter showed us to a table for two in the corner. We pretty much had the place to ourselves; there were only two other couples.
Luke listened with interest as I blathered on about insurance paperwork that I didn't actually complete or have to chase any client for. Making up lies about work was proving to be even more difficult with him in that sexy suit and the warm gaze he was giving me. Time for a little distraction?
As soon as the waiter took our order, I flipped off one of my heels and slipped my stockinged foot up his pant leg.
"We could just take dinner to go," I said playfully.
He caught my meaning and the corner of his mouth turned up.
"We could," he said. "But we might not stop to eat when we get home. When's the last time you ate?"
I had to think about it. And as soon as he saw me not come up with a reasonable time, he said, "We're staying. You're eating. Then we'll go home and you can have your way with me."
I smiled. "Let's hope they hurry up with our order."
Luke talked about various aspects of a day in the life of an oncologist. He never revealed names; he would never violate patient confidentiality—not even with me. He was telling me about a boy who was recovering from leukaemia. He was full of optimism about the boy's prognosis. He was so excited for the kid. I loved seeing him so happy.
I had a sexy man who was delighted to spend time with me, no matter how long I'd made him wait. He gave me honesty and all I gave him were lies.
Sometimes this double-life gig really sucked.
"The new toaster arrived," he said. "I'll install it later this week. I think you're going to like it."
"Oh?" It was a toaster. How could I dislike it?
"It has all the bells and whistles," he said, getting excited. "LCD screen, six customizable se
ttings, eight pre-programmed options—"
"Whoa, whoa. I thought you said it was a toaster not a robot."
"It's the latest tech. You can set the program to remember exactly how you like your toast, and at the push of a button, it does it."
"Sounds expensive."
He shrugged. "An interest payment came in from one of the investments my parents set up for me. I don't mind wasting it on a toaster."
"Maybe you should sell it. The investment, not the toaster." Every time a payment came in, he worked himself into a quandary, debating what to do with it. "Sell it and donate it or buy yourself something fun. Go wild." Defy your parents and be free.
"Maybe."
We both knew he wouldn't. Doing so would insult his parents, and he wasn't the kind of person who would ever insult anyone intentionally.
"Your mother called tonight," he said. I noticed he'd waited until after the food had arrived before telling me this. We could both feign interest in our food and pretend like the subject of my mother wasn't as controversial as it was.
"Really? What would she do that for?"
"Presumably she wanted to speak to you," he said.
"She's the one who told me I could only speak to her through lawyers."
He nodded. "I know."
"It sounds like there's a 'but' in there."
He shrugged. "It's not really a 'but'. It's just that she's—"
"Family," I said bitterly, knowing what came next. We'd been over this. Luke had strong ties to his family; his parents would do pretty much anything for him. He had a hard time understanding my relationship with my mother. It was a foreign concept to most people.
"That's what makes it so wrong," I said. I twirled spaghetti around my fork, no longer interested in eating. "You know what happened the last time I talked to her."
Shortly after my father died, I stopped by to invite my mother out for lunch. She met me at the door and informed me of the new chain of communication. I hadn't bothered to retain a lawyer. I could afford one but I didn't need one; I knew what this was about. She thought I would go after my father's money.
Shows what she knows. I don't want it.
I felt she owed me an apology, but I'd not heard one word from her since.
Winterstruck: an urban fantasy supernatural crime thriller Page 2