by Smith, H. D.
“Ow.” I cried out as someone brushed past me, clipping my hand and activating the bracelets. Okay, new goal, lose the bracelets. Then find Junior.
I headed out of Little Purgatory toward the arena. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was. Based on all the red and purple armbands it was obvious everyone on foot, in groups of two or more, was going to the fight. I followed three pagans, keeping a decent distance, so I didn’t get noticed. They were wearing red armbands—demon colors. They didn’t have their own fighter this year. It was a druid and demon match-up, and there was no way the pagans were rooting for the druids.
I loped onto a side street as soon as I crossed out of Little Purgatory. Downtown was gridded out in blocks, but it wasn’t as if I knew the place well. The few times I’d been down here, I had a driver and my phone. I needed to get my bearings, make a plan, and remove the bracelets.
I tried the obvious approach first and concentrated on the watch. “Remove the bracelets.”
Nothing happened.
I surveyed the area. There were a few shops along the street, but most of them were closed. The watch or my power was good with directions, but I had no idea what to ask for. And would it lead me to a closed business? I really didn’t know enough about how it all worked, but I didn’t have another option.
“Take me to...” I paused. Where can I have them removed? “Take me—”
“To your leader,” some guy quipped as he ambled past.
I was attracting attention. I glanced around, but he was the only guy who seemed to notice me, and he wasn’t exactly stopping to chat. No, he was heading for the pawnshop across the street.
When he opened the door, the glass reflected a red sign hanging under the awning. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it was exactly what I was looking for: Jewelry Repair—perfect.
I crossed the street. Catching sight of myself in the glass storefront, I noticed that the bandages were giving me a hospital escapee vibe. It also appeared most of my bruises were gone. The skin around my wrists was still raw but improving. I removed the bandages and tossed them into the trash can outside the store. I’d be less suspicious this way. At least I hoped I would.
I peered through the glass door, scanning the inside of the shop. There was a scruffy middle-aged demon standing at the counter. His arms were folded over his chest as he watched the guy who’d walked past me. The demon answered a question, then shook his head, never changing his unapproachable stance. A minute later the customer left without buying anything, and I slid through the door before it closed.
The shop was grimy but well lit. There wasn’t much security in place—a couple of round mirrors and a camera perched behind the register. The shop was empty except for me, so there was no surprise that the demon behind the counter was staring. He had the same unapproachable stance he had with the last guy, which normally might bother me, but not today.
I sauntered up to the end of the counter, the one farthest away from the video surveillance. The demon sighed before reluctantly walking over to me. I kept my head down and my face pointed away from the all-seeing eye of the camera.
“Can I help you?” he asked, returning to his arms crossed over his chest stance. He wore a red armband so he probably wanted to close up early and head to the fight.
“What are these worth?” I asked, holding out my arms and ignoring his attitude.
Cinnamon had called them Hell shackles. I assumed that meant something. I was hoping it meant they were worth something.
“Well, that depends,” the demon said dryly. “Why are you wearing them?”
I cocked one of my eyebrows. “Do you want them or not?”
“Well,” he said, eyeing my watch. “I’d rather have the watch.”
“Not a chance.” I couldn’t remove the watch, but even if I could, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in this hellhole.
He shrugged, then pursed his lips. “I guess I’ll just have to settle for the bracelets, but I’m not sure I know how to get them off.” He called toward the back. “Luke, get in here.”
I tensed when I sensed a druid coming from the back. A minute later, a thin fragile druid shuffled through the curtain. He was very old with a bad left leg that caused him to limp. He couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, if that, and his head appeared to be too big for his body. Although he wore a really cheap brown suit, the odds were good he wasn’t one of Johnny’s boys.
“Yes, sir,” Luke said.
“Can you remove these?” the demon asked.
Luke slid a wooden box over to the counter and stepped up on it. I moved my hands away as he reached for them.
I caught the barest hint of a brown shine to his eyes when he said, “Don’t worry, miss. I won’t touch your hands.”
His smile put me at ease. I held my hands out for him to inspect. He clutched my right wrist, bringing the band closer to his face. He slipped down one of the jeweler loupes on his glasses.
The curtain to the back room swooshed, drawing my attention away from Luke. The demon owner was no longer in the shop. I was about to close my eyes and follow him, when he returned a moment later. He reached under the counter for something, then glanced out the window.
Before he could catch me spying, I moved my eyes to his reflection in one of the round mirrors. I didn’t like the way his gaze darted to the window, or the shifty way he held whatever he pulled from under the counter, which I suspected was a gun.
It was taking too long to remove the bracelets. I wanted to tug my hand away, but Luke had a good grip for someone his age. A car drove by outside. The owner shifted, bringing up the butt of the gun he was trying to hide into view.
He must have called someone when he ducked into the back. His fake casual demeanor was inconsistent with his twitchy behavior. He was waiting for someone. I was sure of it. I wanted out of here, but getting out of Luke’s grasp wouldn’t be easy or quiet.
“It doesn’t look like—” I started, but the words died in my throat when an audible click sounded, and the first bracelet fell off into Luke’s hand. The other one weakened, as if it might be unlocked. I concentrated on the watch, to focus my power. “Open the other bracelet,” I said.
“Humm,” Luke said, still scrutinizing the bracelet in his hand.
With the same click as before, the second fell off, clanking loudly on the glass counter. I examined the open band and realized what Luke was studying. Several Ancient characters and Mace’s serpent mark were etched into the inside of the band.
I really hoped he didn’t recognize Mace’s mark. I eyed the demon. He was ready to pounce.
Luke clasped my wrist before I had a chance to escape. “We got a problem,” he said to the demon.
Just as a car screeched to a stop outside the shop, I snatched my arm away. I glanced back to see two of Johnny’s goons getting out of a lime-green convertible. Great. I don’t have time for this.
The demon was now pointing his gun at me.
“She’s marked,” Luke said, pointing a crooked finger in my direction.
“He wants to kill me himself,” I told the owner. “I’m worth nothing dead.”
Before he could react, I rushed him, jumping over the counter. The stunned demon jerked to avoid me and tripped. The gun went off as he hit the ground. I didn’t look back. I ran through the curtain and into the rear room just as the buzzer on the front door sounded.
“She’s back there,” Luke shouted.
I spotted a side door. A gunshot dinged off the doorframe as I hit the alley. Without slowing, I hauled ass through the alley, down a few cross streets, before finally ducking behind a dumpster to catch my breath. My heart raced. I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and stepped outside my body.
I could have blinked to the pawnshop, but I wanted to see if the goons were following me.
I reentered the shop, breathing a little easier since I hadn’t passed Johnny’s boys on my walk here. The demon was now inspecting the bracelets.
“Should we cal
l?” Luke asked.
“I already called Johnny’s people. It’s better if we let them handle it.”
“What are we going to do with the bracelets?”
The demon visibly tensed. “Destroy them. I don’t need any of Mace’s kind of trouble here.”
“But they’re worth a fortune. Real Hell shackles.”
“Yeah, and they’re only good for finding her, or for him to find you if you keep them. I said destroy them, unless you want to explain why you removed them?” The demon lifted his brows as he threatened Luke.
I should have taken the bracelets and destroyed them myself, but it was too late now.
Gruff voices came from the back. The demon handed the bracelets to Luke. “Get rid of these.”
Luke shoved the bracelets into his pocket, then grabbed his coat and hat and headed out the front door. The buzzer sounded as the tough guys walked through the curtain.
“Why was she here?” the taller man asked without preamble.
“She was interested in this lovely item,” the demon said, holding up a brooch that had been in the glass case.
The tall thug gave him a level stare. The shorter man scanned the shop. “Where’s the old man?”
“He’s already left for the day,” the demon said cautiously. I didn’t blame him. Nobody wanted to get on Johnny’s bad side. “Look, I called you boys first. I could have called The Boss’s people.”
“This is a waste of time,” the shorter man said. The taller man nodded.
I relaxed as the two men got into their car and drove away. The bracelets were off, and Johnny’s boys had lost my scent. I was about to open my eyes when the demon picked up the phone. I waited a minute to see if he changed his mind about calling Mace. I doubted he’d call The Boss at this point.
“Yeah, you don’t know me, but I got some information you might be interested in,” the demon said. He was silent for a moment, then said, “The girl was down here. I let Johnny’s boys know, but that was before I knew she was marked by Mace.” Another pause. “I just thought you might like to know.”
He hung up the phone.
“Who did you call?” I asked. Would it have been The Boss? I gasped—or Mab?
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. For a second, I thought he saw me, but then the buzzer from the door sounded behind me. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the new customer.
Opening my eyes, I returned to the alley and concentrated on the watch. “I need to find Junior.”
~ * ~
I rubbed my arms. The capri pants and tank top were fine for the Grand Caymans, but the sun would be down soon in Underworld, and the temperature was dropping fast.
The crowds were heavy on both sides of the street, which made the guy walking against traffic stick out like a sore thumb. I was shocked to recognize Omar as the wake of pedestrians drew closer.
I wanted answers. He had to know the truth. Why wouldn’t he have told me The Boss didn’t own my soul? I was about to yell his name when I stopped myself. What if he was Mace’s traitor? I couldn’t risk it, not when there was another way.
I glanced around, then ducked into the nearest alley. It was a dead end, but there wasn’t anything to hide behind. I sidled up to the wall a few feet from the main street and closed my eyes.
I blinked to the other side of the road, right behind Omar. His brisk walk against the flow was annoying a few in the crowd. His frustrated attitude wasn’t helping. “Move,” he bellowed at one fight fan.
The fan was at least a foot taller than Omar. He wore a red armband over his sexy as hell leather jacket. His eyes flashed red as he focused them on Omar who was dressed in his usual high school chemistry teacher style, which couldn’t have been less threatening. The fan puffed up his chest until Omar stopped, cocked his head, and glared at him.
The fan’s face went white. “Sorry, man,” he said, before bounding off the sidewalk toward the other street. A car horn blared, but the guy didn’t look. He kept moving, his hand clutching a woman who kept glancing back as if they were being followed.
After that, everyone gave Omar a wide berth. I kept my distance too. I didn’t want to take the chance that he could sense me.
Omar picked up his pace. He headed down another side street, cut across another main thoroughfare, before winding up on an avenue I recognized. He was headed straight for the blacksmith’s shop.
He didn’t knock; he just walked in. I jumped inside after him. The blacksmith was alone, pacing. The giant wasn’t around, and the sidewalk outside had been deserted. She jerked when Omar spoke. He was speaking Ancient. I didn’t understand it, but from her non-verbal cues, I could tell something was wrong.
She rubbed the back of her neck, nodding toward the office. The only words I could pick out were Mace’s name and mine. The conversation sounded so foreign. This was the first time I’d ever heard a full conversation in Ancient by speakers so fluent as to make it seem natural.
She jerked again when someone knocked on the door. She motioned for Omar to wait in the back room. I moved with him. So far he hadn’t sensed me.
“Enter,” the blacksmith said in English.
I peeked out from the back room. Wylan James bowed to the blacksmith and said something I didn’t understand.
“English, please,” she said to him. “You may understand Ancient, but you cannot speak it worth a damn, old man. I refuse to hear you butcher it.”
The blacksmith was no longer nervous. She was as strong and confident as she had been when Mace and I were here earlier.
“As you wish, my lady,” he said in English.
“Why are you here?”
“The blood,” he said. “The seer has seen it. He wishes for you to confirm its authenticity.”
“You’re not the first to arrive, but I will tell you what I have told all the others. There is no blood.”
James crossed his arms. “I have been contacted by more than a dozen. How can they all be wrong?”
“I wasn’t aware you were so influential among them,” the blacksmith said bluntly.
“They called once they saw I planned to come here. They wanted to make sure I knew how many had seen the truth.”
“This is not the first time they have been wrong,” she said, moving her hands casually behind her back and smiling in an innocent way.
“But this would be the first time so many have been wrong about the blood. You will not be able to hide the truth forever.”
Her smile faded. Obviously, her innocent demeanor wasn’t working on him. “You may go now.” Her voice was clipped and cold. “Do not return. You’re no longer welcome.”
James’s brow furrowed, but he bowed his head politely before leaving.
“He won’t be the last to come about the blood,” Omar said, returning from the back room.
The blacksmith replied in Ancient.
“Are you okay?” asked a voice that was so close I could smell the beer on his breath.
I opened my eyes when someone touched my shoulder.
Two druids were standing in front of me. The one touching me repeated, “Are you okay?” His buddy scanned the street, wiping his hand down his mouth.
I shrugged out of his hold. “I’m fine,” I said, then moved past the druids and headed for the arena. I glanced back a moment later, but they weren’t following me.
I made it a few more blocks before I slowed. I was too far away from the blacksmith’s shop to turn back. Omar was clearly more aware of my situation than I’d ever thought, but I no longer considered him Mace’s traitor. He didn’t know about Mace. He’d gone to the blacksmith because of the blood—my blood. Wylan James had gone there too.
You’re the one? You will save us? the voice reminded me of what James said.
The deli flashed in my mind. I remembered. He couldn’t believe I was the one, but what did it mean? I was too close to the arena to give up on my plan to stop the quads from killing Junior. My blood was another issue. One I�
�d have to figure out later.
I was making good time, until the crowds grew so thick there was barely enough room to stand. I was still six blocks from the arena.
The setting sun made the day darker and colder. I kept checking the watch, hoping it would take me down a less crowded side street, but no luck. I was headed right toward The Grand—where anyone who was anyone would be staying—and where I would find Junior.
The streets were blocked off. There were people everywhere. I was close enough to start worrying about how I was going to get in. Junior would have guards at the elevator, and I wasn’t dressed for the event. I wouldn’t be able to talk my way in only wearing capri pants and a tank top. I hoped the watch knew another less direct way in.
I stepped off the curb, about to cross the street, when a mob of Densmore supporters rushed into the crowd. “Densmore! Densmore!” shouted the purple armband druid fans.
Within a few seconds, the crowd swelled into an impromptu pep rally, and I was driven to the side by the mob. Resting, I waited for the group to pass. I caught sight of myself in a shop window. My bruises had healed, and my wrists were almost completely unmarked. Only the faintest red line remained. My black eye had finally faded. My physical pain was gone too. All things considered, I felt pretty good—better than I had in days.
The Densmore pack was thinning. I shifted to move into the flow of people when a familiar voice caught my focus. I slunk into the shadows. My heartbeat increased as I searched for the owner of the voice. My eyes watered, but I refused to cry. The voice was getting louder. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but it was him. Jack. I would have known his voice anywhere.
Searching the crowd, I finally spotted him. A group of young demons walked my way. My beautiful, well-muscled, dark-haired human with ice-blue eyes ambled along with his friends. I say human because that was how he still appeared to me. He wore his most sinful blue jeans, the ones that hung so well on his hips I wanted to jump his bones when he was in them. His All-American bad-boy style was topped off with a white T-shirt and well-used leather jacket—the one with white racing stripes down the arms and a been-there-done-that amount of wear that made my mouth water. Okay, so maybe I’d ripped those jeans off him a time or two and had my wicked way with his sexy body while he still wore that jacket. I was the girlfriend. I had rights.