Nothing but nods of agreement met the captain’s cold stare.
“Good.” Sloan twisted in her chair, now addressing the staff. “Thank you for your service this morning. You’re presence is no longer requested.”
The staff bowed their way out of the room, closing the door behind them.
“Now”—Sloan reached into her cloak’s breast pocket and produced the journal found in the cave laboratory in Burrow Den—“down to business. I think the obvious leads will be to follow up with the clues we found in the journal. Aareth will visit the writer of the journal, a scientist named Aaron Jebson, who works here in the city. Jack and I will stop by Livingston Industries for a long overdue visit and see what we can find.”
“Wait a minute.” Elizabeth looked to her sister for support. “What about us?”
“Elizabeth, after what you told me this morning at breakfast about—” Sloan cleared her voice in a very unlike-Sloan fashion, actually trying to be kind. “About your possible interaction with the laboratory, I think it’s best you stay here until we can understand the repercussions of whatever they’d done to you.”
Jack sat in his chair, surprised the girls had decided to tell Sloan everything they suspected. He admired them, especially Elizabeth who, despite her age, was choosing to come clean with everything.
“Are … are you going to do experiments on me again?” Elizabeth asked, a hint of fear in her voice.
“No, never,” Sloan reassured her with a smile. “But the worst thing we can do is to put you in more harm in the meantime. I’ll have the queen’s personal physician come to talk with you. She’ll know for sure whether or not there is anything to be concerned about.”
Elizabeth nodded, content with the answer.
“I want to go,” Abigail said as though waking from a very serious train of thought.
“Excuse me?” Sloan asked.
“I want to help.” Abigail sat straighter in her chair as if the action solidified her resolve. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. Not after what happened … what I did to my father. He was a caught up in this conspiracy. I think we all know he wasn’t a good man, but he was my father. Now, my sister is part of this. I have to do something. Please let me help.”
Jack could understand what Abigail was feeling. He’d go crazy if he was forced to sit on the sidelines and wait.
“Your lack of training—” Sloan began.
“I’m a quick learner,” Abigail interrupted before Sloan could continue. “I can be an extra pair of eyes. I can take notes. I can—”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t be responsible for your safety.” Sloan shook her head with a heavy sigh. “I wish there was another way.”
“She can come with me.”
All eyes turned to Aareth.
“You heard me.” Aareth pushed away the empty plate in front of him. “I’ll be responsible for her. I know what it’s like to try to do the right thing. I know how hard and scary it is.”
“All right.” Sloan looked from Abigail to Aareth, shaking her head. “Be careful. If something happens, you summon the city guards. Don’t try anything dangerous.”
“Of course not.” Aareth grinned. “You know me.”
Sloan
“Aareth, can I speak with you a moment?” Sloan asked after the rest of the group had finished breakfast and left the room. “It’ll be quick.”
“Before you start, Edison didn’t find anything yet.” Aareth slouched in his chair. “There was a lot of oohing and awwing, even more ‘Elwood get me this’ and ‘Elwood get me that,’ but no answers.”
“I’m sorry.” Sloan stood, trying to figure out a way to comfort Aareth. Far from the hugging type, Sloan went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand you’re going through something unprecedented.”
“Edison did tests until just a few hours ago. He took enough blood samples to fill a small tub.” Aareth leaned over, looking at his hands. “Whatever it is that healed me wants something in return. I can feel a part of me I never knew before, and it’s angry. It wants to get out of its cage.”
Before she could second or third guess herself, Sloan knelt down beside Aareth. She took his defeated face in her hands. The stubble on his cheeks pricked at her palms.
“Edison will find out what’s going on with you.” Sloan looked deep into Aareth’s eyes. “You’re—we’re going to get through this.”
Aareth held her gaze. Their lips inched toward one another as if magnets were drawing them together.
When their lips finally met, a floating sensation filled Sloan’s head. As fast as the kiss had begun, though, Aareth broke it off, while the dozens of reasons she couldn’t be kissing him shouted in her mind. Her rank as an officer, his past as an assassin, and his present condition were all reasons for her to stay away.
“I’m sorry.” Aareth shook his head of dark hair. “This, this isn’t the best time.”
“Don’t be too sorry.” Sloan stood from her kneeling position and headed for the door. Her heart was beating like a war drum. “But you’re right, we’ll revisit this once things have settled down.”
If Sloan knew what the future held, though, she would have never left that kiss.
Jack
An hour later, Jack found himself walking down the streets of New Hope with Captain Sloan and a dozen armed soldiers. Passersby nodded hellos to the group. The citizens of New Hope even smiled at them as they passed.
Jack would never have thought the sighting of New Hope guards would bring smiles to civilian faces. Within their own walls, the soldiers of New Hope were loved. In the Outland, the city of New Hope and all of those inside, were viewed as elitists, too good to be bothered with the rest of the world.
Jack walked down the street, looking inside shop windows boasting sales of expensive furniture, the latest fashion trends, and more. One shop stood out from the rest. A bright red-and-gold banner hovered over the door. It sported a sign reading: Weatherby Eyewear.
On the other side of the giant glass window, a multitude of eye patches, glasses, and goggles beckoned to onlookers.
Jack had to remind himself to focus. With difficulty, he tore his eyes from the beckoning call of the store. Another few blocks down, Sloan stopped. Jack recognized the alley he had run into with Aareth the day before. He felt the bruises where the would-be assassin had struck him during her escape.
“I thought we were going to visit Doctor Livingston?” Jack gave Sloan a sideways glance. “What are we doing here?”
“We are.” Sloan scrunched her brow as she looked at the red-bricked store with a sign that read: Lovegood’s Fine Leathers and Hides. “I want to take a look at the spot where the assassin took her shot. I was given a report this morning on the scene and it just so happens that she left her weapon behind, as well.”
“Do you think that will help?”
“Maybe.” Sloan shrugged. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Somehow the assassin has to be involved with the events in Burrow Den.”
A well-dressed man interrupted Jack and Sloan from any further conversation. He wore a gold monocle and an ebony top hat. He approached the pair with a determined stride, fury written across his aged face.
“Captain Sloan.” He ignored Jack for the moment. “If you will kindly tell me when my store will be able to reopen? Daylight is a commodity I cannot spare to waste. Every minute that passes is a minute I’m not making money.”
“I understand, Mr. Lovegood.” Sloan crossed her arms over her chest. “But your business was the scene of a crime, and not just any crime, an attempt on the queen’s life. I’ll be sure to tell my men to expedite the process, but even so, your store will be closed for a few days, at the minimum.”
“Oh, very well.” Mr. Lovegood bit his lip so hard, Jack thought it would bleed. Choosing not to contend with the captain, he vented his frustration. “Arguing with the crown is pointless. It seems their only interest these days is sending our funds to the Outland and assisting communities far
beneath us.”
Before Sloan could form a rebuttal, Mr. Lovegood was off with a swoosh of his long traveling cloak. A harsh scent of soap lingered in his wake.
“People really have no idea what’s going on outside these walls, do they?” Jack asked.
“There’s an elitist faction that would rather count their piles of gold than to even think of offering assistance to their own family.” Sloan curled her lip in disgust. “Come on, there’s Lieutenant Baker.”
Jack followed Sloan as she crossed the temporary barricades marking the business as a crime scene. She exchanged quick salutes with the soldiers on guard duty.
“Any more news on our assassin?” Sloan addressed the sharply dressed lieutenant. “Tell me we have something to go on.”
Lieutenant Baker saluted Sloan and smiled at Jack. The last time Jack had seen the lieutenant, he had been escorting him and his father to New Hope for an audience with the queen.
“Hello, Jack.” Lieutenant Baker offered a gloved hand. “I’m sorry to hear about your father, he was a hero.”
“Thank you.” Jack accepted the handshake. “He is.”
“Besides the weapon and the eyewitness accounts”—Lieutenant Baker cleared his throat—“we haven’t much else to go on.”
“Did you trace the weapon’s origin?” Sloan drummed her fingers on the hilt of her mage sword.
“Yes. It wasn’t made or bought in New Hope, as far as we can tell.” The Lieutenant reached into his uniform pocket and brought out a aged leather notebook, flipping to a heavily marked page. He read on, “It’s primitive, probably purchased in the Outland years ago, and changed hands a dozen times since. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes,” Sloan said.
Jack and Sloan followed Lieutenant Baker into the building that smelled of fresh leather and tanning chemicals. The first floor was a spotless storefront with rows of leather—gloves, cloaks, hats, and clothes for any occasion. The lieutenant gave them a tour as they headed for the stairs.
“As you can see, the first level is open to the public. The next levels are where all of the workshops that manufacture the products are located.”
“Was the store open when the assassin broke in?” Jack wondered aloud as they entered through a door in the back corner of the room that provided a spiral stairwell to the roof.
“No, Mr. Lovegood closed the store for an hour during the ceremony. The assassin entered the store through a first-story window.” The lieutenant jogged up the stairs, with Sloan and Jack following close behind. “Whoever she is, she’s an expert. The window she’d entered through wasn’t broken or even damaged. She picked the lock.”
The trio climbed the remaining stairs, lost to their own thoughts. They passed door after door of work levels until they came to the top. Jack was still thinking of the assassin, if she had any connection to the other inhuman hitman he had met during their locomotive journey to Burrow Den.
Two more soldiers saluted them as they entered the roof. Sloan and the lieutenant returned the motions; Jack gave a nod. There wasn’t much to the roof at all. A few vents allowed curling steam and smoke to escape during work hours, and a waist-high ledge bordered the square space.
Jack walked to the edge and looked out into the city. New Hope was a bustling hive of activity. Thousands of people walked to and from stores and houses; large buildings poured smoke into the air. The noise that came with it was a mix of white sound.
“She took her shot from right here.” The lieutenant’s voice drew Jack back to the reason for their visit. He was pointing to a section of the roof where a long rifle lay on the ground. “She must have seen Jack and Aareth spot her. That’s the only reason I can assume she left her weapon. The city inspectors have already come and gone. They’re checking leads as we speak.”
“Curious.” Sloan walked over to the rifle. She shook her head as she lifted the weapon from its resting spot. “That a professional would leave her weapon behind, even if she was in a hurry.”
Sloan examined the weapon from all angles before handing it off to Jack.
Jack accepted the long instrument of death. His dealings as a mage sorcerer in the Outland had brought him across dozens of rifles. The one he held in his hands now was a model he was familiar with. It had undergone a few enhancements.
“It’s a 1/14 Reaper.” Jack paused as he let his hands play across the smooth, wooden stock and up to the black scope resting on top of the long barrel. “But it’s been modified. This rifle usually comes with a shorter barrel, and this scope is something I’ve never seen before.”
“Upgraded to shoot farther and more precisely,” Sloan mused as she raised an eyebrow and took another look from their vantage point to the palace steps. “Someone knew exactly what she was doing, so how did she miss?”
Jack searched the rifle up and down. Besides what he had already pointed out, there wasn’t much else unique about the rifle. He handed the weapon back to the lieutenant, who accepted it with care.
Jack followed Sloan’s gaze and wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. The shot from the rooftop to the palace steps was a long distance, but not impossible. For someone with this kind of weapon and training, it would have been hard to miss. Did she mean to miss?
“And the mask?” Sloan asked the lieutenant. “Has anything like that been manufactured in the city?”
“The inspectors are running that lead down, as well.” Lieutenant Baker let out a heavy sigh. “But it’s a big city. Helmets like that aren’t common, but anyone with a shop and access to metal could have made one.”
Aareth
Impossible. It was an impossible coincidence. Either that or he was seeing things; his mind showing him what he wanted to see rather than what was really there.
This foreign rage he felt inside and his kiss with Sloan didn’t help bring clarity to his current situation, either. An already stressed problem was threatening to break him mentally.
Aareth Emerson, temporarily appointed city inspector, was traversing the wide streets of New Hope in long strides. People who passed him were faceless objects he had to avoid to get to his destination.
She’s dead, gone. I held the body. Aareth wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or grateful for Abigail’s voice breaking his train of thought.
“Is there anything you want me to do when we get there? I want to help in anyway I can. And thank you for taking me along.” Abigail ran to keep up with his fast pace and long strides. “I know you didn’t have to take me along.”
“It’s all right.” Aareth shortened his strides to give Abigail a chance to catch her breath. “An extra pair of eyes and ears isn’t a bad thing when you’re looking for clues.”
“I can’t fight like you and Sloan and Jack, but I can take notes, or cover an exit, or I could—”
“You don’t have to prove your worth.” Aareth turned down a street, taking them from the hustle and bustle of the main section of New Hope to a darker, seedier piece of the city. “As far as I’m concerned, you’d proved everything when you pulled the trigger that saved Jack’s life.”
At once, Aareth knew he had said too much. Abigail looked down at the street in silence.
“You did the right thing.” Aareth turned his head for the first time in their conversation to catch her eye. “Don’t ever think there was another way, or regret your decision. Things happened as they were always meant to happen.”
“It’s not that.” Abigail turned dry eyes to meet Aareth’s stare. “I loved my father, but the man who set the ocelot on the Burrow Den and killed so many people, the man who killed Marcus and was about to kill Jack, that man was not my father.”
Aareth nodded, the final events in Burrow Den coming back to him in a flash. Elijah Ahab, Abigail and Elizabeth’s father, ready to stab Jack in the back, Abigail lifting the pistol and taking the shot that would save Jack and kill her own father.
Aareth pushed the events from his mind. He knew firsthand that dwelling too long on memories wo
uld kill a man. He directed his eyes now to the terrain and how much the landscape had changed.
Twisting out of the center of the city was a labyrinth of commercial housing projects. The address Sloan had given him to locate Aaron Jebson was taking them deep into a poor housing development. Men and women lingered on street corners; couples and trios of shady characters examined Aareth and Abigail up and down.
Aareth met their gazes to let them know he wasn’t intimidated, then turned back to his path, saying he didn’t want trouble. He stretched his right arm and worked it in a circle. A part of him actually welcomed a fight.
“Here.” Aareth ignored the urge for conflict and instead pulled out a piece of paper from the inside of his black coat. The writing on the parchment matched the home they stood outside of: 114 Anderle.
Aareth shoved the paper back into his pocket and walked up the short flight of stairs to the front door. The home was small with a black wooden door and gray cement walls. Before he could extract any other clues from the residence, wood shards on the doorstep grabbed his attention.
Splinters lay sprinkled on the ground just under the broken lock. Someone had beaten them to their destination.
“Abigail.” Aareth removed his jacket to ensure his movement wasn’t hindered.
“Yes,” Abigail answered in a steady voice that told him she was ready to enter if he asked.
“You stay put, no matter what you hear inside.” Aareth fought off a wave of heat that burned from somewhere deep in his body. “Do you understand?”
“I understand. I’ll stay here.” Abigail re-steadied her voice. “Be careful.”
Somehow, Aareth knew she was lying. Staying and waiting wasn’t in the Ahab girl’s wheelhouse.
Aareth slowly pushed the door open. The broken lock gave him no trouble; the door swung inward without a squeak.
House of Blood: (A Paranormal Urban Fantasy) (The Vampire Project Book 2) Page 4