Hungry, Caro peeped in the fridge, praying she wouldn’t see Tupperware filled with blood. Instead, there were carrots and hummus that she wolfed down with a piece of stale bread before checking out the guest room.
It was as plain as the rest of the apartment, but the bed looked comfortable and the pillows soft. Caro lay back, her hair spread around her. Night was falling outside and she rose to shut the heavy gray twill curtains before lying down again.
The common noises of domestic life floated through the walls. A woman laughed. A man called his wife to dinner. Kids fought over a toy. She put her hands over her ears, desperate to block out the sounds of an existence she’d never known and never would. When she was latent, she could at least fool herself into thinking that she could pass as a human, and have a normal life. It wasn’t something she had actively sought, but she’d needed the security of knowing it was possible.
Now, she had nothing. Not that it mattered, because now she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she wanted no one but Eric.
A chance she had deliberately destroyed. Rightfully destroyed. He had said he didn’t believe Tom but the proof that he did was right there. The proof of his lie.
The doorbell rang and Caro sat straight up in the bed, her heart pounding so hard she put her hand to her chest. Had Iverson found her? Eric? She sat still for a moment, until another shrill ring forced her legs from the bed. The floor was cold under her bare feet as she padded over to the peephole and peered out.
Estelle waved back, making a face.
Caro opened the door. “Lost your keys?” she asked.
“Crazy, huh?” Estelle passed inside and Caro’s arms itched. She scratched them absently as she shut the door.
“How was the date?”
“Meh.” Estelle made a seesaw motion with her hand and went to the kitchen. “I cut it short.”
“I’m not going to be good company.” Caro gave her arms another scratch. God, what was with this stupid allergic reaction?
Itching. She stared down at her forearms. Itching. Pricking palms. With sudden certainty, she stared at Estelle. “Did he order the cheeseburger like you were worried about?”
“Oh, yes.” The vampire laughed. “A double. That’s when I left.”
That did it. She’d never had such an inane conversation with Estelle in her life. She was talking to a masquerada. Was it one of Eric’s people? One of Iverson’s? She inched toward the door, her mind in overdrive. “Oh, by the way, there was a package for you,” she lied. “I put it in your room.”
“Good, I was expecting it.” The woman walked into the bedroom and Caro yanked the front door open, only to be brought up short by who was waiting on the other side. “Julien?” she gasped.
“I’m sorry, mon ange.” Julien actually sounded apologetic. “Bad place, bad time. But, this is how it needs to be.”
“Mmmm, was our little fugitive making a run for it?” The newly deep and husky voice rolled out of the bedroom.
Caro knew that voice. “Patricia.” Estelle was half-right. There was something between the two. Too bad it was kidnapping attempts and not a nasty work affair.
“You bet, little girl.” The woman shimmered as she moved toward Caro, settling into an unfamiliar gorgeous lithe blonde with pale blue eyes. “You know what?”
“What?” Caro wondered if she could make a break for it past Julien. “Who are you, anyway?”
“No one you know. Iverson said he wanted you in one piece but I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” With that, the woman punched Caro in the jaw. “See you later, peanut.”
Pain flashed and Caro collapsed. As she fell, Julien caught her, then slipped his hand into her pocket to see if there was anything to steal before copping a feel with his other.
Asshole.
Chapter 33
According to his timetable, Eric was supposed to be down in the training room, meditating and stretching. He would have eaten a protein-and-fiber-rich breakfast of oatmeal and eggs. This would have all occurred after a good night’s rest.
Instead, he lay bleary-eyed and exhausted on the tangled sheets. He’d tried to shift again and failed. This time, he wasn’t even able to get near the cavern. The moment he saw it he started to sweat and black out. When he’d managed to compose himself, the first thing he’d done was pick up the phone and dial Frieda. It was time to talk with her about this. No answer, and he didn’t bother to leave a message. He thought about the masquerada she’d mentioned, the ones who had converged and had finally committed suicide—like Caro’s mother.
He could understand why they’d taken that final and irrevocable step. Not masquing was killing him slowly from the inside, a hidden bleeding wound. To end it quickly was beginning to feel like the better option.
Eric forced himself to sit upright. If Caro was here, he could talk to her, bury his face in her lovely smooth skin and listen to her voice. Then he’d probably have the pleasure of reading it in a newspaper the next day. He’d trusted her, goddammit. He rubbed his eyes. Amazing that Frieda had become the one who he could rely on to be at his side, not Caro. What a change.
He wasn’t used to failure.
He ignored the eggs and oatmeal as they congealed on the side table. Fuck the schedule. He wasn’t a goddamn racehorse. Sighing, he hauled his ass out of bed and headed for the shower, gulping down a cup of cold espresso on the way. He’d eat his egg whites tomorrow.
The hot water restored his temper to a solid baseline of regular irritation and he went down to the training room to limber up. Stephan and Tom were there already, in a worried huddle that spiked his mood again. “What’s the problem?” he asked, wondering if it was more than the fact that he was going to be in a fight to the death soon. That was more his problem than theirs anyway.
Not that he planned on losing, but Stephan and Tom were both glass-half-empty types.
“Eric!” Stephan grabbed his phone from Tom and stuffed it in his pocket. “Did you sleep well?”
“No. Are you two getting your panties in a knot about something I should know about?”
The two men looked at each other as though telepathically debating the correct course of action. Stephan’s lips tightened before he finally spoke. “We’ve had a call.”
“Iverson?”
“No.” Another long pause while Stephan and Tom stared at each other.
Eric lost patience. After what had happened with Caro yesterday and his inability to shift this morning, he knew it was going to be a class-A shitty day. He didn’t need any more drama.
“Now, Stephan.”
“I got a call from Estelle this morning. The receptionist at JDPR.”
Eric’s skin began to feel tight and he motioned Stephan to get going with the story.
“Estelle let Caro stay at her apartment last night. When she arrived home, she noticed the door to the guest room was closed, but she didn’t want to disturb Caro.” He paused. “Estelle felt that Caro had a rough day and deserved some rest.”
Eric ignored the editorializing. “Is there a point?” Caro wasn’t his problem, after all. She’d made that crystal clear.
“This morning, she went in. Someone had lain on top of the bed, but the room was empty. Caro’s shoes were still at the door, which is why Estelle thought she was there.” His voice stayed steady, but his eyes were trained on Eric. “She checked around the door, then. There was blood there. Dry splatters.”
Eric’s vision narrowed to a single pinprick of light before exploding. He grabbed Stephan by the lapels and slammed him against the wall. “You lie.”
“Sire!” Tom’s shock penetrated Eric’s fury. “Release him. Now.”
Eric growled, but loosened his grip. Stephan pulled his shirt straight, composing himself in a moment.
“Goddammit.” Eric’s fists clenched and he wanted to punch something.
; “This isn’t helping.” Tom’s voice was firm.
Eric turned on the security chief, teeth bared. “What the fuck do you care? You never trusted her.”
“I still don’t. The fact that Estelle is a vamp, and we know that Iverson has been reaching out to other arcane races for their support doesn’t make me more inclined to believe it, either.”
“We’re going to check into it, though,” Stephan interrupted. “Estelle likes Caro. She wouldn’t be part of a scheme to hurt her.”
“Unless they’re in it together, and it’s a trick put on by the vamps in collaboration with Iverson to keep Eric off balance.”
Eric hardly heard the argument. Caro was gone. Taken. It must be Iverson and God only knew what he would do with her. Eric’s teeth bared. He was going to rip that fucker apart when he stepped into that ring. No mercy.
“Eric.” Tom nodded at Stephan, who sighed.
“We’ve been checking Caro’s story,” Stephan said. “Parts are true. She’s Lynn Butler. Her mother is Glina, sister of Hilde, Hierarch Europa. Went by the name Gaelle once she left the family. We don’t know why she left. Partnered to a human who left when Caro was fifteen and died when she was seventeen. Glina died two years later. Suicide.”
“There are discrepancies in what she told you,” Tom added. “She left the Post after her attack a year ago but hasn’t been in touch since. She’s not on payroll and it wouldn’t matter if she was writing under a pen name and filing from here in Toronto. Payroll would have her legal name. Nor does the Post have anyone in Toronto.”
“She lied?” Eric shook his head. “Why?”
“That we don’t know,” Stephan said. “She must have a reason.”
Tom knit his brows in silent disagreement.
Eric rubbed his temples. He was wasting time. A sense of cold purpose settled on him. He was going to find Caro and she’d answer his questions in person. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get her back. When was she taken?”
“Probably between six and ten in the evening,” Tom said. “That’s when Estelle returned. Caro’s been gone at least ten hours.”
“Estelle.” Eric concentrated on Stephan. “Why did she call you? How did she have your number?”
Stephan coughed. “She called because she was worried and she had my number because, ah, we’d gone out. Once. Maybe twice.”
Eric raised his eyebrow but said nothing. “Get a team over there to interview her. I want any CCTV cameras in the area checked.”
“On it, boss.” Tom disappeared, already muttering commands into his phone.
“Tom’s off base about thinking this is a grand conspiracy,” Stephan observed. “Iverson’s doing this to rattle you.”
“Yeah? Well, good for him. It’s working.”
Stephan looked at him sternly. “No. It can’t. There is far more at stake here than Caro. People will die if you lose that defie. You know how he feels about humans.”
“I know my responsibility.” Eric fought the urge to punch the wall. “You can keep your lectures to yourself.”
“I apologize.” Stephan’s eyes didn’t lower.
There was a long silence. “Fuck.” Eric ran his hand through his hair. “You know the last thing I said to her? That I was glad she was going.” Stephan stayed silent and let Eric talk. “And now, Iverson has her. You know what he did to her last time? She’s still got the scars. He’s got even more reason to hurt her now, to strike at me.”
“You need to focus on the defie,” Stephan said. He put his hand on Eric’s shoulder and squeezed. “You leave Caro to us. We’ll find her.”
With that, he left the room, leaving Eric alone. The moment the door shut, Eric lifted his face and bellowed, a roar of absolute rage that shook the room. He felt helpless. Leaving his woman to his people to save? It was wrong. That was his job, Hierarch or not. Because Caro was his woman, even if she didn’t want him, even if she crushed his heart under her foot. No matter what, she was his.
And he was hers, if he could convince her to have him. If she lived.
* * * *
Caro cautiously opened her eyes. She’d been awake—groggy, but awake—for a few minutes but had kept her eyes closed while she tried to figure out where she was. It was cold and dry and now she could make out nothing but concrete walls as her eyes adjusted. She was lying on her side off of the floor. Maybe on a small cot or platform. Her hands were tied behind her back, and numb, and her ankles were lashed together.
Thank God she was still dressed. Julien’s hand squeezing her breast. She remembered that.
As her mind sharpened, she ran over what had happened. Patricia was a masquerada. She and that fey bastard thief Julien had kidnapped her. Julien was in league with Iverson and so was Patricia. No doubt Patricia had been sent to JDPR to keep an eye on her. Caro almost couldn’t believe it. Was it her dumb luck, or had Iverson approached Julien after he had recognized her? She supposed it didn’t matter. The end result was the same: her, tied up in a cell.
She wiggled her nose and ran her tongue over her teeth. The iron taste of blood and a tender jaw, but no permanent damage from that punch. Why did Patricia hate her? That it had to do with Eric, Caro had no doubt.
Eric. Her anger had disappeared—she supposed being cuffed in a dudgeon helped her reprioritize—and she saw his actions in a new light. No, not new. Deep down she’d known he didn’t believe she was with Iverson. She’d been mad at him for having her followed but she was more angry with herself for her cowardice. She hadn’t wanted to face the music when he’d learned about Lynn Butler. Hadn’t wanted to deal with his justified anger when she could run away and feel she’d been the hero. They’d both been in the wrong.
Caro maneuvered her legs over the edge of the cot and tried to sit up, only to be yanked back by a chain attached to the cuffs on her hands.
Dammit. She took a deep breath to calm the deep shakes that were causing her teeth to chatter. Time to assess the situation.
She wasn’t dead yet. That was a bonus.
She’d probably be dead soon. That sucked.
Then she exhaled hard. Life hadn’t been so great over the last year that she was eager to spend fifty more the same way. Or a thousand, if Eric was correct about masquerada life spans. She had only two regrets. One, Eric. Her heart caught as she remembered how it felt to be safe in his arms. Well, she’d screwed that up well and good. Nicely done, Caro!
The second one was Iverson. How she would have liked to kill him. That thought came to her clinically. She knew she wanted to kill Iverson the same way she knew she liked pizza. That’s how it was. No emotion. A mere fact. Unfortunately, it seemed that he would be the one to kill her.
Fucking Julien. So it turned out she had a third regret. She owed that asshole a massive kick in the nuts. How long had he been with Iverson? Why attack her now?
She could figure that out when she escaped She considered her limited options. She could shift now. Would it be possible to become small enough to get out of her bonds? She had torn apart Eric’s cell. Could she do it here?
Quickly she cast a small, slight figure in her mind and took some deep breaths. It was easier now. She flowed into the masque, then immediately tried the restraints. The manacles adjusted to tighten around her newly tiny wrists.
After a few minutes of pulling, she admitted defeat. Either she wasn’t doing it right, or the chains were extra strong. Escape wasn’t looking good. She shifted back, wanting at least the comfort of being her own self and swallowed back tears of fear. Then she sniffed the air. There was that smell again, the one from her apartment. Mineria, that’s what Tom called it. She tried to hold her breath, but to no avail. Helpless, she drifted into darkness one more time.
Chapter 34
Stephan interrupted Eric as he poured over the CCTV footage from the front entrance. Luckily, Estelle’s landlords had installed cameras las
t year after a burglary. Now he knew it was Patricia, the woman from JDPR, and Julien. She was dressed in a similar outfit to the one he’d seen Estelle wearing earlier when he’d gone to see Caro. Eric cursed himself. He knew he should have had that bastard Julien watched. Now look what his oversight had caused.
Tom came in as they were looking at the footage, then did a double take. “Freeze the image.”
Eric did. Patricia’s pale face gazed up at them. Tom stared at it. “That’s her.”
“Who?” Eric swiveled the chair around. “You know Patricia?”
“Not her name, but that’s the one who must have taken your knife from the throne room. She’s the only stranger we have on the security cams for that time period.”Stephan turned the monitor toward him. “That knife might have been taken at another time.”
“Doubtful. It’s usually under full lockdown until we need in.”
“She’s a masquerada, so she might be anyone. She knew about Caro’s life as Lynn Butler.” Eric started the video running again. On the screen, Patricia and Julien came in, then left with Caro unconscious with her arm slung over Julien’s shoulder, the fey’s hand holding her tightly and close to her ass.
Another reason to kill him. Not that he needed one.
Patricia. Who was she? It made sense that it was someone he knew in another masque—he had felt she was familiar when he saw her at JDPR but hadn’t been able to place her, and she’d known exactly what to say to get under his skin. Iverson wouldn’t have gone himself, so it had to be an underling. Logic told him it would be a woman, as Iverson generally steered away from having powerful masquerada in his inner circle, and gender shifts were the purview of only the strongest.
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