The tirade got her heart racing but instead of bracing her it just made her more dizzy. It took Hailey a moment to focus enough to see the tears glittering in Amelia’s eyes. And she felt like shit. Even though she knew she was one hundred percent right.
“Everything you said is true,” Amelia said, duly subdued. “I guess I haven’t been there for you much. It was just easier to deal with strangers. It didn’t hurt me when they were in pain.” Her composure cracked. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to lose my sister.”
I will not cry. No crying here. I will not cry. Her chin wobbled. Aw, damn it! She gritted her teeth against the tears. “It won’t change anything now,” Hailey said.
Amelia wiped her nose on her lab coat sleeve. “I know,” she said. “But I still want to try.”
It was just fear talking. If Hailey died, it wouldn’t make any difference anyway, and if she didn’t, the two of them were too different to get along for any extended period of time. In a month or so, they would be back to fighting and not talking to each other. So it made no sense to keep up this pretense now.
But still, it was kind of nice to have a sister who cared, for once. “Well, then maybe you could turn the heat up in this joint and put some music on.”
I play music and wish you were there to hear it too…
Hailey shook her head hard. Where the hell had that come from?
Amelia laughed. She got up and hugged Hailey where she sat. “Eat up and then meet me in the lab. I think I can do something about the side effects without changing the virus.”
I love you…
But to you I’m just a last-minute hot fuck.
“Yeah,” she said, dazed.
You get what you asked for…
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
*
Someone here didn’t belong.
Tristan was standing hidden in the shadowy doorway of the butcher’s house, a predator looking out over the crowd filling the market place. He recognized almost everyone, their minds as familiar to him as their faces. He knew their memories as well as his own. They were friends, or they were visitors.
One of them wasn’t.
One mind in that throng was different enough to attract his attention. It made him uneasy. Not because he sensed a threat but because he couldn’t … pinpoint it. Whoever this person was, it was almost as if he barely existed. Tristan sensed his presence but nothing about him. A blank slate. A mirror reflecting the world around him but retaining nothing.
His fur itched beneath his skin and he wanted to pace. An intruder on his territory. The other shifter was one thing. She would be dead in a day or two, or she would be gone. But this one … he didn’t like it.
Tristan pushed away from the door to seek out the owner of the unpleasant mind.
He stopped midstep when a sharp pain pierced his abdomen. Fear made him sway on his feet. “Dara?” he called.
Silence. Strain.
He turned toward his castle and pushed his way through the crowd. “Dara, talk to me!” She was veiling her mind. Not blocking him out completely, just hiding her thoughts behind a curtain. She never did that. “Dara!”
He was about to force his way deeper when she answered.
“You better come home,” she said, and even her mind-voice sounded worried.
She drew back the curtain and let him merge with her mind completely.
Tristan stumbled as his abs tightened painfully. Heart in his throat, he changed directions again and ran for the doctor’s house. He could still sense the young man there, about to go out into the market. Tristan caught him a few steps from his doorway.
The ready smile dropped from the doctor’s face in an instant. “Is something—”
“You’re coming with me,” Tristan told him.
“O-okay,” the man said. He was timid and so damn young but he was the best doctor on this world next to Amelia. And he had experience with birthing babies, something Amelia lacked.
“Tristan, don’t scare the man.”
“I’m not,” he replied, refusing to look at the frightened doctor’s face. “How do you feel?”
“Like two watermelons are fighting inside my stomach to pass through a hole the size of an orange,” she said. “How about you?”
“Like I’m about to kill someone if they don’t get out of my way.” Anyone else would have cowered to hear him say that. Dara just smiled. He loved that about her. He loved everything about her. She was the sole reason for his existence. If anything ever happened to her… “Move it, Doc. We don’t have much time.”
“Then may I suggest a taxi?” the doc said, and pointed far right to the hovering transport next to the fire station.
“Genius,” Tristan praised. He dragged the man to the transport and all but tossed him inside. Then he got into the front seat and reprogrammed the navigation to his address and maximum speed. “Hold on,” he warned.
When the taxi took off, the doc fell back hard against his seat with a yelp. He’d be bruised, most likely, but he would live.
He’d better.
Tristan’s mate was going into labor, delivering two children of a very large shape-shifter. He’d be jumping for joy if he wasn’t so damned scared for her.
“It’ll be fine,” Dara told him, even as another contraction nearly made her pass out.
Tristan punched the taxi’s console. “Hang on, baby, I’m on my way.”
Chapter Twenty-two
She hadn’t come back. And no one would tell Arthur where the bastard had taken her. No one fucking knew! With every hour that passed, he worried more and more. Was she okay? Was she hurt? What had been done to her? All sorts of horrible imaginings filled his mind. She was alone and helpless in this place. She didn’t know anyone here, just like Arthur, and without him, she had no one to watch over her.
All these people here were like bees, always buzzbuzzbuzzing around, always something. Good morning, Mr. Glenn. How are you today, Mr. Glenn? Would you care for a biscuit, Mr. Glenn? How about a fish?
What in the name of all that was holy was he supposed to do with a fish?
Arthur had eaten premade meals all his life. Now he was in a place where they only had “fresh” and “real.” He was forced to either eat things raw or go to a restaurant. And there the volley of questions came from all sides.
But he’d managed to get a few answers too. He was learning. Adapting. It was okay to talk back and respond here. People expected it. That was how things worked. People talked and then Arthur was supposed to reply.
It was an interesting way to exchange information. He now knew the name of the man who’d taken his lady: Jeremy Calen. He also knew that the only way to get her back was to force this man to tell him how. Only he hadn’t come back either. There was no doubt in Arthur’s mind that Calen was keeping her captive somehow. He must have learned something or seen something and now his Hailey was trapped with that monster somewhere, and Arthur couldn’t fucking get to her!
He had to switch hotels. That wooden shack was starting to feel like a coffin. He found a slightly better one on the other side of town. It was still quaint but at least it had electricity and room service. Not that anyone ever came when he called. Unless there was a problem, people tended to forget he was there. The one drawback of being invisible was that he had to keep reminding the front desk of his presence, otherwise they tried to rent the room out to someone else.
That had happened to him a few times in the past too.
“Ah, Mr. Glenn!”
Arthur cringed.
The little old woman was dressed in something that defied description. Her waist was cinched, and the skirts looked so heavy he didn’t know how she could breathe or walk. She was smiling at him as if he was her favorite person in the world.
“Uh … hi,” he said, backing away from her. He might know the mechanics of conversing with people but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Well, don’t be shy,” the woman said an
d linked her arm with his, pulling him into the streets that were quickly filling up with more and more people. Normally he would have loved getting lost in a crowd. Here, it was impossible. People saw him here. They smiled and greeted him as if he was some kind of idiot who needed that kind of affirmation.
He didn’t need any of them.
He needed his Hailey.
“Listen, I really should be going. Lots to do today.”
“Nonsense! No one is working today. Everyone will be at the faire. Whatever business you have will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Everyone?”
“That’s what I said. We’re celebrating the tenth anniversary of our town today. There’s all sorts of fun things planned. Can’t miss it!” She stopped and looked up at him. “Say, you were looking for our Jeremy earlier, weren’t you?”
That Calen bastard! “Yes, I was.” Don’t ask questions.
“Oh! Well there you go,” she said. “I heard Mr. Clark tell Mrs. Johnson that the boy reserved a table at his bistro for later today. Seems he’s bringing a lady friend.” She winked at him. “About time that boy found a good woman.”
He recognized the care in her voice. She fretted over a bastard so undeserving, like a mother hen with an adopted son. Why would she bother? Calen wasn’t related to her or she’d know more about him—and she didn’t. No one knew anything except that he came here regularly for supplies and lived somewhere outside of town. They’d offered to take him there but Arthur didn’t dare make the trip. Who knew what circle of hell he’d be stepping into?
But the situation was approaching a point where he might not have a choice anymore. The longer Hailey was away from him, the more she was at risk. It was better for Arthur to brave the monster’s lair than for his Hailey to do it on her own.
Now this woman was telling him he might not have to. Hope flared, making him almost tremble with the need to do something.
Arthur grabbed her arm to stop her when she turned to start walking again. “What time? Where is this … bistro?”
The woman blinked at him. “It’s just over there on the Patio.”
What the hell was a patio? He looked where she pointed to a slightly raised, giant wooden platform. It was bordered by some kind of low wooden fence that had flowers growing on top of it. There were two long tables with benches for seating, and along the fence little round tables with actual chairs.
“Are you sure?” he demanded. He couldn’t take the chance that she might be wrong, or thinking of someone else. “Jeremy Calen”—the bastard—“made a reservation there?”
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Agent Jeremy Calen. The detective. Do you know him from Gray Dublin?”
Arthur looked at her, unable to disguise the animosity in his expression. He had no talent for it; he’d never had a need to hide what he thought. It used to be that no one noticed.
She did. She gasped and tugged at her arm. “You’re hurting me, sir.” She was looking around now, probably for someone to help her, and her hand shook when she tried to pry his fingers loose. “Let go!”
Fear. About time someone else felt what he felt. “I can’t do that,” he told her. “I’m afraid you’ll fall if I release you. You’re looking very pale. Maybe we should get you out of this crowd for some air.”
She was wheezing now, shaking her head but unable to form words.
“It’s all right,” Arthur told her, smiling, though she would take no comfort from it. “Nothing to fear in this world except for demons. And I am just a man.”
*
Jeremy had forgotten about the celebrations today. By the time he got to the town square he had to push his way through the crowd to get to the Patio. It was packed, every table occupied, and a line of people waiting to be seated. They kept eyeing the one lone empty table by the edge with a view of the market but the maître d’ wouldn’t let anyone sit there.
She better not; that table was reserved for Jeremy and Hailey.
It was almost noon.
He was a little early. But it was better to be out here, watching the parade and performances than sitting at home and staring at the clock. He’d debated going to the lab to pick Hailey up for their date, but he’d already left a message for her to meet him here. It was bad manners to show up unexpected.
Still, any much longer without some kind of distraction and he’d do it anyway.
The people in line for the Patio didn’t want to let him through to the front. They were mostly tourists, strangers who didn’t know how things worked around here. Jeremy doubted any of them had ever had to wait for anything in their lives.
Here, nothing was rushed. It was rare for anyone to get asked to leave even if they’d been sitting at the table for hours, doing nothing. That was all part of Torrey’s charm.
Jeremy waved at the maître d’ from the back of the line. Her name was Julia. She was a young girl, fresh out of college with a lot going for her. When she saw him, she smiled brightly and waved him forward.
“Excuse me,” Jeremy said, trying to get the people to move.
“Wait your turn,” someone had the gall to say. “I’ve been waiting for that table over there for thirty minutes.”
“Yeah?” Jeremy replied. “Well, you’ve wasted your time. I reserved it for the day.”
“Bullshit, man,” the guy said, and grabbed Jeremy’s arm to stop his progress. “There’s no such thing as day reservations. Now, I want that table, and you’re not taking it from me.”
Jeremy speared him with a hard glare and pushed into his mind. The guy had only been here one day after a really long flight, disappointed as hell by what he’d seen so far, and frustrated because he couldn’t get a flight back out for another week. He was about ready to snap, and Jeremy had just provided him with an easy target.
Or so he thought.
Jeremy moved some thoughts around, skewed his perception a little, amped up some paranoia, and pushed the violence to the back of his mind. All so he could shake off the guy’s hand and say, “Don’t mess with me. Not today.”
It worked.
The guy shut his mouth and backed up a half step, as much as the limited space would allow.
Jeremy held his gaze a little longer to make his point then looked at the others to see if anyone else felt like objecting. They didn’t. He made his way to the maître d’s podium, where Julia already waited, watching with her mouth hanging open.
“Nice day we’re having,” he said in greeting.
“Dude,” Julia said, “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Jeremy wanted to grin. This was the first time he’d ever used something other than diplomacy to solve a problem. Apparently, Hailey was a bad influence on him. He couldn’t wait to tell her. “Thanks,” he told Julia, feeling like a rock star.
“Seriously,” she said. “You just stared at him and he backed off like he got dunked in cold water. Can you teach me how to do that?”
“All in the attitude.” Plus some telepathic sleight of hand.
Julia took him to his table and gave him a menu. It was in Italian. If someone didn’t understand, they could either take their chances, or ask a waiter.
“I should warn you, we got fresh apples today,” Julia told him. “Bushels of them. The boss went nuts, so there are apples in every dish on the specials menu. Plus we have like five different apple desserts to choose from.”
“You know, apples sound like just the thing today,” he said, feeling restless and impatient, already scanning the crowds for any sign of Hailey. “I think I’ll have the apple chips while I wait for my date.”
“Ooh, a date, huh?” Julia wagged her eyebrows. “Anyone I know?”
Jeremy grinned. “All in good time.”
“Must be serious. I’ve never seen you here before with anyone except Pixie.”
“She’s … one of a kind.” Jeremy wondered if she remembered anything from last night. He did. Not everything but enough that if she wasn’t there in the next half hour he
’d be heading for the lab. He knew she probably hadn’t meant it, but he still got that weird, funny feeling in his chest recalling her declaration that she loved him. Wonder what it’ll take to make her say it again…
“Hey!” someone yelled from the line. “How long do you expect us to keep waiting? There’s two tables empty already!”
“Keep your pants on,” Julia yelled back. “I’m coming.”
“Busy day?”
Julia’s shoulders slumped dramatically and she turned her gaze to the heavens. “You have no idea.”
When she got back to her station, a waiter brought him a cold glass. “Courtesy of il capo,” he said.
“What is it?”
The waiter grinned. “Apple juice.”
Some kind of commotion across the square caused everyone to jump up and cheer. The Patio was raised three feet off the ground but Jeremy still had to stand up to see over the flailing arms to the stage. The town’s mayor was arriving in a fancy horse-drawn carriage. Both carriage and horses were decked out in flowers and ribbons and the mayor wore a wreath of them on her head.
She was dressed in a historical costume and a translucent veil that was so long it flowed over the back of the open carriage and almost touched the ground. It looked like she was standing but even with the mildest horses that wouldn’t have been safe or comfortable for a woman of her years. There was probably a stool of some sort hidden by her skirts.
The carriage circled the gathering so everyone could get a good look and then stopped by the stage. The mayor got down and waved to her people then took a seat on the throne that stood ready for her. “Oh, Dunworth!” she called. “Dunworth!” When no one answered, she looked to her people. “Where is my master of ceremonies?”
A young woman whose costume seemed to be made of colorful ribbons and tiny bells danced her way onto the stage. “He’s busy,” she announced. In the past few years, this performance had changed actors a few times. The mayor and this Mistress of Misrule were the only original members of the cast.
Blood Trails Page 24