Nightsoul

by McKenzie Hunter

  Alex and Landon were friends, but Asher and Landon’s relationship was the strained cordiality seen between most heads of denizens. It had nothing to do with the alleged rivalry people thought existed between shifters and vamps, and everything to do with the rivalry that occurred between powerful people. I doubted being immune to magic changed Asher’s propensity to acquire magical objects, even though he couldn’t use them and they couldn’t be used against him or his pack. Anyone who possessed the AC had an advantage, and with the shifters’ speed, which closely rivaled the vamps’, having the AC would make the difference between one dominating the other.

  But Asher wasn’t like that.

  I convinced myself he wasn’t. I couldn’t disregard the fact that he’d double-crossed me and stole the Salem Stone right under my nose. Could he have done the same with the Amber Crocus? After five more minutes of unsuccessful attempts to meditate and trying to keep my mind from being a chaotic mess, I gave up.

  In the living room I picked up my phone. I had three texts and a missed call from Clayton. Patience definitely wasn’t one of his strengths. There weren’t any messages from Madison, which was surprising. I’d texted her twice about meeting up with Clayton. It was unlike her to not respond to a text and definitely a call, even if it was just with an autoresponder to let me know she’d call me later. Nothing. Worry nagged at me, but I pushed it aside. She was probably busy. But I still sent another text reminding her to call me as soon as she could.

  Then I held the phone, staring at it, contemplating whether to call Asher. I’d falsely accused Mephisto; did I want to do the same with Asher? Overlooking the list of things that would make Asher a likely suspect couldn’t be ignored. I decided questioning him was something I should do in person.

  Asher was waiting for me near the off-putting statues of the howling wolves in front of his building. His sharp, appraising gaze, predaceous ease of movement, and curl of his lips that wasn’t quite a smirk all hinted at his cunning nature and eased the apprehension I felt about overreacting by questioning him. I just didn’t know what to do if he was guilty.

  “Erin.” My name eased from his lips in a lazy drawl and he sidled up next to me. We both seemed to appreciate the nice, breezy day, and I didn’t object when Asher led me to the perimeter of the oversized building toward the back where there was a sitting area surrounded by a thicket of lush flowering trees that offered a degree of privacy. The shifters’ building was ostentatious and could be seen from blocks away, but they still enjoyed their privacy, which was why there were alcoves that allowed them to be outside but secluded.

  “You wanted to talk to me,” he said, taking a seat on the bench. Curiosity-whetted eyes held mine. I returned his inquisitive gaze, hoping I’d be able to determine if he was lying. It was doubtful. Being able to detect lies himself made him exceptionally skilled at telling them.

  “You said to come to you if I needed something and you’d be there for me,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, what’s wrong?”

  “I need you to promise to be honest with me. No lies of omission or wordplay. This is very important.”

  He tensed, his brows drawing together, his expression a cross between skepticism and concern. He started a nod of agreement but stopped. “Does it involve my pack?”

  That question had so many layers and nuances. Asher’s actions were always done in an effort to protect his pack, sometimes preemptively.

  “Not really,” I eased out reluctantly.

  Silence ticked by as I tried to determine the right course of action. I knew that I wasn’t doing a great job hiding my dilemma.

  “I promise,” he agreed. “But, depending on what it is, my actions may not change.”

  Asher, what did you do?

  “Are you familiar with Amber Crocus?”

  He frowned. “Yes. I’ve heard that it’s a plant that can kill vampires, if they’re staked with it or somehow it gets into their system. From what I’ve gathered, it’s just a rumor or the vampires assisted in it becoming extinct,” he said brusquely, giving me the impression, he believed it was one of the many baseless rumors swirling around. I couldn’t determine if he thought the plant was mythical or extinct. It didn’t matter; the burden that had weighed on me since we sat down lifted.

  “Why are you asking?”

  I shrugged. “No reason.”

  “Ah, so you drove all the way here to ask me about an extinct plant for no reason?” Doubt placed a hard frown on his face.

  “It’s not mythical. They exist, or rather someone found a way to make more.”

  “Half truth,” Asher announced.

  He could not possibly have known that. Damn, shifters are annoying.

  “Your voice is always stilted when you do that. It’s subtle but still detectable, if you pay attention,” he told me with a shrug. Shifting his position, he relaxed back on the bench, his fingers clasped behind his head, looking straight ahead. “Let me guess. The witches learned how to make it and were blackmailing Landon. You were hired to acquire it from them. Correct?”

  “Something like that,” I conceded. “How did you know?”

  He let out a dry, mirthless scoff. “Wolfsbane,” he said.

  “That doesn’t kill you, it just drugs you.”

  “There’s a particular variety that affects us worse than the rest. It dulls our senses and is the only one we can’t metabolize quickly. For days, our senses, scent, hearing, and speed are impaired until it’s out of our system.” His face hardened. For people who relied so heavily on their preternatural abilities, losing them for days had to be its own special hell. “When I became Alpha, I followed what was rumored to be the vampires’ example and got rid of as much of it as I could. Needless to say, a coven found some and was determined to make more. I assumed to sell. It’s difficult to grow and is very fragile. I discovered it and we came to an arrangement.” A hint of menace lingered over his words.

  “Do I want to know?”

  “It was an agreement. They were compensated.”

  “Was the compensation along the lines of a ‘give me the wolfsbane and you keep your life’ sort of deal?”

  Lips quirked into a sly smile as he ignored my question. “Why did you ask me about the Amber Crocus?” he asked.

  “It was taken,” I admitted.

  His eyes were slits as they scrutinized me. In a lissome sweep of movement, he was standing. “You think I took it?” His jaw was clenched, his posture guarded.

  “I didn’t. But I was just covering—”

  “Yeah, you did.” He looked away, his features softening to something that resembled hurt, maybe disappointment.

  “I’m just covering all my bases, Asher. It’s not personal.”

  “But it should be.” He shoved his hand into his pocket, his eyes finding so many things more interesting to look at than me. “If I’d heard about it, I probably would have acquired it. So, I should be a suspect.” He pulled his eyes back to me. Intense, solemn gray eyes held mine. “But if I knew you were involved, I would have backed off. I owe you that much. I hate that you don’t know that.”

  “I do.”

  “Lie.”

  “Stop doing that and let me lie in peace,” I snapped.

  His roar of laughter broke the tension. “I wish it was that easy. Sometimes I want to be lied to.”

  “For you, I’ll get better at it.”

  “The Amber Crocus was really stolen?”

  I nodded. “They disabled a Klipsen ward and didn’t set off any of the triggers.”

  If he was shocked, he hid it well.

  “Mephisto also made an offer, which he rescinded. Landon paid but thinks I had something to do with the theft. He believes I colluded with Mephisto to steal it, and I have less than forty-eight hours to find it.”

  He nodded slowly. “Your dealings with Mephisto always seem to have consequences, don’t they? Perhaps that’s a sign you should limit them.”

  Everyone was casting aspersions and givi
ng unrequested advice.

  At my silence, he gave a solitary blink. “Would you like me to—”

  “Handle it? No,” I interrupted. Whatever his and Mephisto’s way of “handling it” would be, it’d probably be worse for my career and reputation than my backup plan, which was to involve the STF. But at least the shifters and Mephisto wouldn’t be at war with the vampires. There was no way I could protect the witches and involve the STF without being implicated, and the moment I became known for doing that to a client, my reputation and business would be ruined. I needed to figure things out.

  “You have a plan?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it a good one?”

  “No.”

  “Truth,” he said softly. I was glad he didn’t ask about my plan, but something in the gentle, sympathetic way he squeezed my shoulder when we departed gave me the impression he knew. Good, because it wasn’t something I wanted to say aloud.

  CHAPTER 18

  Cory wasn’t having any success with interviewing the witches, who surprisingly were more forthcoming than expected. All the suspects had complied with his questioning, despite him being evasive and not letting them know the specifics of the plant, just that it involved the vampires. Since most covens used the same plants and flowers, with very few deviations depending on the specialty or strength, they were more than willing to let him see their gardens. With the exception of the Lunar Marked coven, Cory got the impression that if the plant would have brought them trouble, they would quickly and willingly have given it to the vampires. Some would probably sell it, but I was sure for a lot less than the Lunar Marked coven asked for.

  “What do we do next?” Cory asked through the speaker in my car after giving me the details of his conversations.

  “I don’t know.” I blew out an exasperated breath. “The dragons,” I said, grasping at the tiniest of straws. They were a trio of thieves consisting of a gifted witch and two dragons. They did more than just hoard treasures. Because of the witch’s penchant for collecting expensive things, this group wasn’t your typical dragon hoarders. They were thieves I’d encountered while retrieving items they’d stolen during a poker game.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to question them,” Cory suggested. Wrong. It would hurt a great deal. The witch hated me and her dragon boyfriend tended to follow her lead, which left me with the younger of the dragons. I’d managed to ingratiate myself by giving him a Glanin’s claw, which injects silver into shifters and prevents them from shifting. He and I had a better working relationship, but I didn’t trust him.

  “I can talk to Maddox?” I offered.

  “The younger one you beat up and who now has a crush on you?”

  “I didn’t beat him up. I disarmed him, and the reason he likes me is because I gave them a hell of a lot of money for a magical object and let him keep the Glanin’s claw. And I promised to take him to Kelsey’s.”

  “Take him on a date—”

  “Not a date, just dinner at Kelsey’s.”

  “Whatever. Schmooze him, or whatever your version of it is, and question him. And for the love of all that’s good in the world, do not show him your sex kitten face. The man will be eating. No one needs to see that face while they’re eating.”

  I said a few choice words to him before hanging up. I’d decided to call Maddox once I got to the parking lot, but when I came to a stop, Clayton’s motorcycle pulling up to the side of my car was a reminder that I hadn’t heard from Madison all day.

  “You haven’t returned my texts,” Clayton said, dismounting and securing the sling pack to him.

  “I haven’t heard from Madison.”

  “Is that typical?”

  It wasn’t, and him reminding me made me worry even more. Taking my phone out, I gave her another call, and when she didn’t answer, I called Claire, her closest friend at the STF. She hadn’t heard from or seen Madison in two days.

  Claire’s disclosure had me speeding toward Madison’s house, recalling Landon’s threats. He wouldn’t be foolish or shortsighted enough to hurt her, would he? Or was it my mother? Had she found out about Madison? Was it a case of mistaken identity? My thoughts raced from the plausible to the highly implausible to the extreme, and my anxiety and fear had me driving much too fast through the streets, keeping pace with Clayton, who pushed his bike to speeds that made him just shy of a blur.

  “You know where Maddie lives,” I stated, shooting him a look as he flanked me while we walked to her house. I was grateful for his presence because I had no idea what to expect.

  “Not in a creepy way.”

  “Are you sure?” I had my karambit in hand, and his hands were positioned to perform magic if needed.

  “I thought it was prudent to know the potential location of The Raven.”

  I cringed at the name but didn’t comment.

  Standing at Madison’s door, I cursed every gangster, espionage, and thriller movie about abduction and torture that Cory had made me watch, hailing them as “must-see” or “classics,” because now they were playing out in my head in 4k images and making me paranoid.

  I knocked. She didn’t answer. I sent another text and waited. Nothing. I called. Nothing.

  With a sigh, I pulled out my keyring that had my spare keys. I had a key to Madison’s, my parents’, and her parents’ home.

  “Madison,” I called out when entering. “Maddie!” I yelled. If anything, she would have answered that just to snap at me for calling her that.

  “I hear movement,” Clayton said.

  I did, too. Movement was bad, especially if she wasn’t answering.

  I ran up the stairs and followed the noise to her bedroom. I threw open the door to find Maddie dressed in shorts that displayed every inch of her toned, sinewy legs, a fitted t-shirt with nothing underneath, and over-the-ear headphones. Her hips were rocking from side to side, arm flailing out when she wasn’t bringing it to her mouth to sing into her imaginary mic. She was moving in a way that would make any pop diva proud.

  A pile of clothes was sprawled out on her bed. Some of them were folded, which I assumed was the chore she’d been working on.

  Clayton’s smile was so wide I could see all his teeth. His expression held rapt appreciation, and pleasure sparked in his eyes. He took a step forward.

  “Get out.” I shoved him back. It was like trying to move a truck. My hands pushed against solid, defined pec muscles that stretched his t-shirt. I made another attempt at moving the boulder. I think he forgot I was there. His eyes trailed from Madison’s socked feet, her legs, her ass-flattering shorts that took a lion’s share of his attention, then her shirt. Her pixie cut growing out made the natural waves of her hair noticeable.

  My protective claws came out. “Stop looking at her.” She’d be embarrassed to be caught like this. When I pushed his chest again, he finally gave, taking several steps back.

  “Go downstairs,” I ordered. Not moving immediately, he gave Madison’s emphatic dancing another glance before turning, still flashing his teeth.

  What is she listening to, Beyoncé?

  Seeing him turn to get another look, I quickly closed the door.

  “Madison,” I screamed at the top of my lungs. She finally turned at the bloodcurdling sound and shuffled back, eyes gawking, lips gaping.

  “How long have you been there?” she asked, pulling the headphones from her ears. Loud music blasted from them before she turned off her iPod and tossed the headphones on the bed.

  “You didn’t answer any of my texts or phone calls.”

  “I took the day off and my phone is on silent.” She scanned the room. I got the impression she wasn’t entirely sure where she left it.

  My face must have still looked panic-stricken because she walked to me, took two fingers, and quickly brushed them over the bridge of my nose. We did that when we wanted the person to smile. I still don’t know how it became our thing…come to think of it, it was silly. The first impulse should be to frown not smile. Tweaki
ng someone’s nose is annoying, not cute or an act of endearment. But in a way it summed up our relationship.

  “I needed a little break,” she admitted.

  “From me?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly.

  Hey, the polite thing to say is no and come up with a good lie.

  “Things are messy, Erin, and I’m scared for you and I have no idea where to begin to fix it.”

  “You don’t have to fix it. Stop feeling like you always have to fix things. Or me.”

  That had been our roles in the past. I screwed up; she fixed it. I’d created the pattern. Years of being irresponsible, not getting a handle on my craving, and being reckless had left her in a position of having to clean things up. She had become my net and I let her. It sucked. She intervened more when my parents’ handling of me moved from pity to frustration.

  Now, knowing that I wasn’t their birth child, I wondered if there were times they wished they hadn’t adopted me and all the problems that came with me being their daughter. Pushing that thought away took more effort than I expected. It just took me remembering my mother’s face when I told them I knew I wasn’t theirs. There were no regrets, I just knew it.

  Madison needing a day off from me sent a pang of guilt through me. All the bravado and optimism I’d put on had done nothing to allay her worry.

  “It’s my life and I’ll fix it somehow. Besides, I’m the one with four gods in my corner. They want Malific dead, too,” I reminded her, keeping my tone light to ease her.

  “That only makes things worse. They’re gods of the underworld. Have you ever considered that maybe they got that job as a punishment? Who wants to be the person who captures and guards the worst of the worst?”

  “Isn’t that similar to what you do? What the police do?” I countered. She considered it, one arm crossed over her chest supporting the other arm, while her fingers drummed away at her bottom lip. It was a weird nervous tick.