Esperance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 3)
Page 8
Neither one was a good idea. But I was getting way too close to being willing to do either. Then Edie had called late last night asking me to meet her first thing this morning. It was the first call I’d had from her in days.
I couldn’t say no.
The coffee shop buzzed with morning commuters and yoga-bound moms. I stepped inside, frowning and inhaling the scent of freshly-ground beans and microwavable croissant sandwiches made with egg substitutes. A guy in the corner looked up and nodded, his hipster beard covering a bad case of acne.
I sighed and made my way toward the back. With any luck, this wouldn’t take too long and I could be on my way. I didn’t bother stopping at the register to place an order. Instead, I veered to the back corner table where Edie sat reading the paper.
“Since when do you drink lattes?” I asked, dropping into the chair across from her.
“Since CHAS started paying for meals while I travel,” she retorted, lifting her cardboard cup in a one-woman toast. “Cheers to the new budget.”
I didn’t respond.
She took a swig and set the cup down, watching me with a soft half-smile. “You look better,” she said.
“Not having poison in your veins does wonders for the skin,” I said dryly.
Her eyes narrowed fractionally—nothing more than flinch before she continued on smoothly. “I’m needed in DC again. Flying back in a couple of hours. Thought you’d want this first.” She slid a file my way.
I opened it and scanned the top page quickly. “Reinstatement paperwork,” I said with mild relief. I’d actually begun to worry they wouldn’t do it.
“You’re back to full-time operative status,” she said, sitting back and sipping her drink again.
I could feel her eyes on me, weighing my reaction. For some reason, it made me uneasy. The paperwork meant they’d cleared me and I knew firsthand they wouldn’t do that if they suspected anything was amiss, physically or psychologically.
But I also didn’t doubt for a second that Edie knew I wasn’t myself. Nothing got past that woman. Which made me wonder what sort of test this really was.
“Thanks,” I said quickly, closing the file and meeting her gaze.
“Don’t mention it,” she said with a shrug, as if it were no big thing. We both knew it was.
“There aren’t any orders for me,” I said and her expression didn’t change. Lord, that woman would make a great interrogator. Or poker player.
“The brass felt it was best to let you have a say in what comes next,” she said, still staring me down.
And I knew. Whatever I said next mattered.
I tried to think carefully about my answer. What did I want? Honestly, I didn’t really care. And I couldn’t bring myself to figure out what she wanted me to say, so in the end, I just shrugged and leaned back in my chair.
“Wherever you need me, Edie,” I said, trying to sound sincere and affectionate. “The bloodier the better, of course, but just put me where I’m needed most, I guess.”
Edie set her cup down with a thud, and I knew I’d answered wrong. “It’s not about what I want, Alex. It’s about you. What do you want?” she pressed.
Dammit. I didn’t want anything. That was the problem. But I couldn’t tell her that and risk them rescinding my reinstatement. I needed this. Because without it, Indra was literally my only option. I wondered if Edie knew that. That woman always seemed to know more than anyone.
“I want to be useful. To do my job,” I said, trying like hell to infuse the words with an earnest sincerity. “I want to hunt down some asshole werewolves and make the people safe.”
Yeah. Safety. That was good, right?
Edie shook her head and blew out a breath. “Lord,” she muttered as if I’d just admitted to wanting to marry a goat or something. “Look, I’m not stupid, son. We both know somethin’ ain’t right about your healing.”
I opened my mouth to argue but she cut me off, her voice low enough and serious enough that I knew better than to deny it. “Don’t try to tell me otherwise. You’re saying all the right words, and your tests show all the right numbers. But those doctors don’t know you like I do. And I know something’s wrong. Clearly, you don’t want to tell me. Fine. But until you do, you’re unassigned.”
“Unassigned? Edie, I might as well still be suspended—”
“You want orders? Tell me what’s going on. Why did you walk out on Sam?”
I scowled.
“Why aren’t you demanding to be reassigned to her now?” she went on. “When you came back to town, you almost mowed me over demanding it and now you don’t care one way or another.” Her brow rose. “Care to explain that to me?”
I knew she was using my orders as an attempt to make me talk. I also knew if I said a word about what was really going on, there would be no orders. Or active status.
I crossed my arms over my chest. Partly because I didn’t want to ruin my chances. But mostly because evidently, I couldn’t really explain even if I tried. I knew that firsthand thanks to my attempt to tell Sam.
“No,” I said quietly.
Edie nodded. There was a flash of disappointment so fast I almost missed it and then her mouth thinned into a hard line. “All right. Have it your way.” She stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping over the floor in the crowded shop. “When you’re ready to tell me what’s going on, you know where to find me.”
She grabbed her cup and the newspaper and stuffed the latter into her massive purse and then shoved past me on her way out. I watched her, slack-jawed, as she pushed out the door into the sunshine and strode away. She’d actually just left me hanging. I hadn’t really expected that.
I knew she’d be pissed at my lack of forthcoming explanation. Then we’d stare at each other for a minute and then she’d give in and issue me orders somewhere. Didn’t matter where.
But she hadn’t done any of that. She’d just… left.
Now what the hell was I supposed to do?
Indra’s shop was unlocked so I ignored the CLOSED sign and strode inside. The lighting was yellow and dim so I blinked fast until my eyes adjusted. While I did, I inhaled and my nose wrinkled at the scent of patchouli incense hanging in the musty air. I hated patchouli almost as much as I hated coming to this place at all. But I had nowhere else to go. Not after Edie leaving me hanging this morning.
If I’d been capable of emotion it would’ve been nothing but self-pity at the realization that Indra’s veiled promise to give me purpose—nefarious though it might be—and put me to work was literally all I had. After finally finding a cure and getting my life back, I was going to work for the villainess and I couldn’t bring myself to care. It was pathetic and wrong; my mother was probably rolling in her grave. That knowledge alone should have made me turn tail and retreat. But I couldn’t care enough to compel my legs in that direction.
That thought only brought more self-pity stunted by the magic. For once, I was glad for the numbness.
Noise reached me from the back rooms—nothing more than a hushed murmur of voices—and I headed that way. Through the maze of bronze statues and clay pots tossed alongside brass scales, I navigated the maze that was Indra’s shop.
The floors were cement with a layer of dust that made my boots scuff against it as I walked. Despite my skill for stealth, the murmurs stopped as I neared the deepest room of the building.
I rounded the corner and stopped short.
Indra stood over a very large and very still-looking werewolf. It lay sprawled on the floor in the center of what looked like a chalk pentagram symbol drawn by hand. The wolf’s lack of obvious life force concerned me—more in my growing suspicion of Indra than worry for the wolf.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
She whirled, her eyes blazing and her expression so intense that I took a step back as a wave of some sort of nasty energy hit me square in the chest. I licked my lips, hating the taste on my tongue—it reminded me too much of the nastiness that was still taking up reside
nce in my own brain.
“Alex,” Indra said and her expression transformed from concentrated disdain to an eerie excitement. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Before I could summon a response to that sort of creepiness, she knelt beside the possibly dead werewolf and laid her hands on the top of its head. She muttered some words I didn’t catch that probably weren’t English anyway and then stepped back.
A second later, the wolf’s eyes opened and I was met with a gleaming yellow stare as it focused on me. It stretched, then scrambled against the slippery floor and rose to its feet, a low snarl emanating from the back of its throat.
Indra leaned down once more and spoke low in its ear. It snapped its gaze to hers and something passed between them. Then the wolf stopped snarling and Indra straightened.
As if she’d given it permission to finally move again, it suddenly sprung away from her and streaked past me, knocking a stack of clay pots over as it raced for the door.
I looked back at Indra who stood waiting expectantly, eyes on me. “The front door is closed,” I said pointedly.
“It knows what to do,” she said carelessly.
Another crash came from the front of the store and then a snarl that turned half-human before the door opened and then slammed shut. Hard.
Something fell off the wall and thudded to the floor.
“You created that,” I said, shocked despite the fact that she’d already proclaimed herself as a goddess last time we’d spoken. “Made him feral, I mean.” And possibly brought the damned thing back from death in the process, though I wasn’t ready to voice that particular nugget aloud just yet.
She only smiled.
“But you said you want to destroy them. Why not kill it?” I asked.
“Removing its humanity serves my purpose,” she said simply.
“You want the hunters to do all the work for you,” I said, sarcasm and disgust dripping from my words.
Her eyes flashed. “I want them to despise each other. I want every werewolf in the world to be vilified—as they should have been since the moment they were created. I want to see them suffer. To be put in their place. And if the world chooses to do my work for me, to hunt them down and purge the planet of their existence, all the better.”
I shook my head because it sounded fanatical and crazy. To any other hunter, her words would be met with loathing and a determination that she had to be stopped. And I wanted to be against it. But I just couldn’t care one way or another. “You’re crazy,” I muttered.
Indra’s gaze sharpened. “I am not the creator,” she corrected. “I am only his hands. And we all do our part. It’s time you did yours,” she said and I stiffened.
“And what part is that?” I asked warily.
“Bring me more of them,” she said.
“More of…the werewolf that just ran out of here? You want me to bring you werewolves?” I scoffed. “You say that like I can just run to the department store and clean out the racks,” I said.
She eyed me sternly. “Your skills were specially selected. I need more if I’m going to meet my deadline, and you are the best one to get them for me. Now, go. Time is of the essence for us.”
She waved her hand like she was shooing me out.
I stood, unmoved; I wasn’t a huge fan of the way she’d just said “us,” but I didn’t argue it. If I was going to reject anything, it would be her request that I hunt down perfectly sane werewolves and deliver them to her. Not exactly protocol.
“I can’t just kidnap what CHAS considers upstanding citizens and bring them to you,” I said tersely.
“Why not? Didn’t CHAS reinstate you?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, eyes narrowing. How did she know that?
“Good, that will help get you into places and make your job easier.”
“My job is only to take down rogue werewolves. Not the ones who are abiding by the rules. What you’re asking is against the law.
She gave a very unladylike snort and said, “Since when do you care about something as trivial as law?” She cocked her head. “In fact, since when do you care about anything at all? I thought we corrected that little problem.”
“We did,” I said almost automatically and then frowned I’d said “we” and also because she was right. I didn’t actually care now that I thought about it.
What the hell?
Her voice went all silky smooth and she came toward me, hips swaying. “Are you sure? I’m happy to take a second look,” she said, practically purring as she ran her hands up my chest to rub my shoulders and then back down my torso, lower and lower, hovering at the waistband of my pants.
Holy hell, the speed with which this woman went from villain to vixen was insane.
“I’m sure,” I said, dislodging her claw-like fingers from my shirt with a firm tug. “How many do you want?” I asked, redirecting us back to the subject at hand.
She watched me with eyes gleaming and I wasn’t sure if she was thinking about her request for werewolves again or where her hands would have gone if I hadn’t stopped her. “How many what?” she asked.
“Werewolves,” I said through gritted teeth.
I couldn’t feel emotions like love or affection, but lust wasn’t off the table. Indra was easy on the eyes. It was purely science the way my body reacted to her scheming smile and inviting hands. Although, for some reason, disgust always accompanied it when Indra was the one touching me.
I wondered idly how my body would react to Sam touching me this way. She was the one I’d had feelings for, after all. Before. Maybe I couldn’t care about her in that way anymore. But I could enjoy her hands on my body. Maybe that would be enough to chase out Indra’s magic—
But then I remembered Breck’s promise and I shoved the thought aside. Not that I was afraid of him. But it just wasn’t worth it. I didn’t want her that bad. Hell, I didn’t want anything that bad. Except to hunt werewolves. It was the only thing I was good at—and it would be a nice release of the one thing I could feel: anger.
I regarded Indra with a hard look. “How many werewolves do you want me to bring you?” I repeated.
Indra smiled, a Cheshire cat kind of grin that set all my nerves on edge. Danger. My body sensed it like an animal instinct. And this woman was definitely a creature worthy of my caution.
Her smile spoke of magic, deep and dark and old as time itself. And it promised all sorts of pain and destruction in its wake. “All of them,” she said simply.
I hadn’t expected anything else so I nodded and turned on my heel. I had my orders. And I didn’t intend to waste any time carrying them out.
Chapter Ten
Sam
My mother’s face blurred and pixelated as the connection froze. Again. Brittany peered over my shoulder, almost spilling her coffee on my keyboard before I batted her away.
“Watch it,” I snapped a little harsher than necessary.
Brittany mumbled something about sexual frustrations and scapegoats and wandered back to her room. I was glad the connection had dropped out and my mother couldn’t hear her mutterings.
I waited, and a few second later, my mother’s face morphed and settled again for the moment. With the storm raging outside, I wasn’t sure how long it would last. But then, that was a great excuse to end the call when she started prying too hard for details about a life I couldn’t really tell her about anymore.
I caught her words mid-sentence as the audio kicked back in. “…worried that you’re working too hard,” she was saying and I resisted the urge to laugh at that.
Because working—at least in the sense she meant it—was the last thing I’d been doing lately. What with avoiding werewolves trying to kill me and trying to figure out how to save their entire supernatural species, I hadn’t exactly had time to work a shift at Oracle Herbs & Crystals—an absence for which I felt kind of guilty, at least where Mirabelle was concerned. But working too hard was definitely not the problem.
“Mom, I’m fine,” I as
sured her, and her frown came through loud and clear at that. “I get plenty of time to myself.”
I thought about all the weird shamanic and Wiccan books I’d ordered from Bookazon that were currently spread all over my room and laughed to myself again. Yes, plenty of time to myself, especially considering Brittany wouldn’t come near me when the books were open. And RJ always claimed it was his shift for perimeter guard duty. The research was all on me.
I was fine with it. Half the books I’d ordered included how to break a magical binding, which is what I suspected Alex was caught up in thanks to Indra. I’d asked RJ about the possibility of it, but he’d just grunted something about “helping those that wanted to be helped” and stomped off. Brittany had ignored the entire exchange. Since no one else wanted to help, I’d resorted to good old-fashioned research, but real information was hard to come by. Especially when it came to magic.
“Yes, well, your father is concerned about your grades,” she pressed. “For what he’s paying to that school, we expect your studies to be a top priority. Have you thought more about your major—?”
“Mom,” I said through closed teeth, regretting this video call idea through and through, “I am still maintaining my grades, I promise. Tell Dad his money is not wasted, okay?”
She started to say something else and judging from her deepening frown, it was no doubt more nagging about my schoolwork or maybe an attempt to guilt me about not calling home more often. Either way, I was done with this.
“Mom, I have to go,” I said, purposely looking away from the screen toward something she couldn’t see across the room. It was nothing but the television and beyond it, the window that faced the street. But she didn’t know that. I let my gaze flicker from it to her. “My friends are here for a study group.”
“A study group? Isn’t it seven in the morning there?” she asked.
I winced. “You said it yourself, Mom. My studies are a top priority. Love you!” I pushed the button, ending our video call, and closed my laptop with a tight click.