by Dana Fredsti
I waited until the three men had lifted Tia through the opening in the Veil, using sheer strength and agility. Ike climbed out first, then hung down upside down so Cayden and Mike could hand Tia up to him. Mike scrambled up the rope to assist.
I was quiet as Cayden unlooped the rope and handed it to me. “Can you climb?”
“I’m a stuntwoman,” I said.
With that, I gripped the thick rope in both hands, swung out over the soup that used to be the Thaumaturge, and pulled myself up, hand over hand, through the opening Cayden had made in the Veil, and onto the tree branch on the other side. I stayed there until Cayden climbed back through. We both sat on the branch for a few moments, covered with unspeakable muck and stinking of death.
I finally spoke. “How did you find me?”
“I went to your room to invite you to breakfast. Your friend showed me the note you’d left her.”
“Eden?”
“Is that her name?” Cayden’s tone was indifferent.
We fell silent again for a minute.
“You’re a sorcerer, aren’t you?” I said.
Cayden shrugged. “I have some skills.”
I punched him on the arm, hard.
Cayden looked at me. “You, Lee Striga, are one of a kind.”
I didn’t argue with him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
We’d cleaned up at the location as best as we could, given that the only running water was cold, and then I’d hit the shower as soon as we’d gotten back to the hotel—those of us who’d been beyond the Veil still smelled kind of funky, and I pitied the poor tourists who’d had the misfortunate to ride up in the elevator with us. Cayden sent someone to retrieve my belongings out of Micah’s Cadillac, which was predictably parked on the Castro’s land. He told me Tia was safe for now, and he’d keep me in the loop with her progress. That was enough for the time being.
Now I sprawled on the couch in the production suite, listening to Devon, Cayden, and Jen run damage control on the shooting schedule.
“Basically,” Devon said, “you’re telling us that Angelique is out of play for three weeks, and Mike’n’Ike for what, a week?”
“That’s what the doctor said,” Cayden replied. “Could be less time for Angelique given her shifter metabolism and rate of healing, but we want to make sure her ankle is solid before putting any stress on it. She can still shoot, just no stunts. So we’ll need to put off finishing the final battle until she’s healed. As for Mike’n’Ike, you know how they are.”
“They’ll be back in play tomorrow then.”
Grinning, Cayden nodded. “Yup.”
“Excellent!” Devon said, rubbing his hands together. “What about Lee?”
“I’m good,” I said, ignoring every ache and pain currently throbbing in most of my extremities. Nothing was broken, but I could use some painkillers and an hour or three in my room’s tub. A few beers wouldn’t go amiss either.
“That’s my girl,” Devon said happily.
Not your girl, I muttered silently. Devon’s familiarity turned on and off as it suited his needs. He hadn’t been there when the shit went down behind the Veil. True, Cayden had strongly discouraged Devon from joining him and the Ginga twins, wanting someone on the other side to keep watch in case things went bad and make sure the opening was closed. Fine, he hadn’t been totally worthless. I just didn’t have the same warm fuzzies for him that I did for my stunt team.
Jen, in the meantime, punched numbers into a calculator and scribbled notes rapid-fire, frowning all the while. “Do you think the Marcadets will give us a break on the price to extend the location rental?”
Cayden shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do. There are plenty of scenes we can shoot in the meantime, and Lee can double some of Angelique’s action scenes that don’t involve Leandra too, if need be.”
“Otherwise I’d be fighting myself,” I commented helpfully from my prone position. “And I feel obligated to point out that Angelique won’t be happy having someone else do any of her stunts.” I liked Angelique. I didn’t want to take work away from her or ruin our working relationship. Then again, maybe she’d be okay with it since she’d be dead if not for me.
“Nothing to be done about it,” Devon replied. “I’m not happy she’s out of play, even temporarily, and neither is our budget.”
“Damn straight,” Jen muttered, once more attacking her calculator.
I gave them both the finger from the hidden safety of the couch back. Cayden saw it, however, and he grinned at me.
“Don’t worry,” Cayden said. “She’ll be fine. And the more professionally that she deals with this, the more work she’ll get in the long run.”
Unless she kills a producer, I thought to myself. I yawned, a big jaw-cracking, hippo-rising-from-the-river-type yawn.
“Lee, there’s no reason for you to be here unless you want to.” I opened my eyes to see Cayden standing next to the couch.
“Did I fall asleep?” I asked. My eyes flickered to the wall clock—a good hour had passed. “Never mind.”
I got slowly to my feet, feeling all the aches even more now that I was asking my body to move again.
“I’ll walk you to your room,” Cayden said. I was too tired to argue with him.
I waved at Devon and Jen, who were too engrossed in their work to notice.
Cayden was quiet as we walked to the elevator. Fine by me. I was too tired to talk anyway.
I shut my eyes and leaned against the back wall of the elevator, letting Cayden do the hard work of pressing the button. When the elevator stopped, I opened my eyes and followed him down the hall to my room.
“Is… Eden here?” I noticed the slight hesitation before he said her name.
“Nope. She’s out playing tourist.” I’d texted her to let her know I wouldn’t be up to going out, that Tia had been found and that everything was okay. That last part was as close to a lie as I ever wanted to tell her, but I wasn’t up to telling this story by text.
“Do you want company?” And there it was. Direct and to the point. I knew what he meant.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I replied, equally blunt.
“Why not?”
I sighed. “We’re working together. You’re my boss. I sort of kind of am dating someone. You sort of kind of are dating… well, more someones than I am. Do you want me to go on?”
Leaning against the hallway wall next to the door to my room, he folded his arms and stared at me with those eyes, the banked flame of crazy flaring up a bit. His pose was relaxed, but I could sense the tension in his muscles. It made me nervous.
“Answer me this and I’ll walk away. For now. But you have to be honest.”
“Fine,” I said, eager to end this and take my nap. “I promise to tell the truth, nothing but the truth, so help me Bourbon Barrel beer.” He didn’t say anything. “Seriously,” I added. “I promise.”
He straightened, all pretense of relaxation gone.
“Do you want me?” He didn’t touch me, but the tension between our bodies practically crackled.
I gulped. I didn’t expect anything that direct, and his proximity made it hard for me to think of a way to dance around the answer to his question. I didn’t try.
“Yes.” There it was. Honest and potentially dangerous. Oh, who was I kidding? There was nothing potential about this. Getting involved with this man was nothing but trouble.
“Then why are you running away from me?”
“I’m not,” I replied shakily. “I’m just not running toward you.”
“Why not?” He touched the side of my face, very softly with one of those oddly dexterous hands. Killer’s hands, I thought again. The touch, almost feather-light, sent shivers down my spine. The good kind of shivers combined with a rising heat in my belly. If he could make me feel this much with one brief touch, what would it be like spending even an hour in bed with him?
“Please don’t.” The words felt forced even as I said them.
“Why no
t? Doesn’t this feel right?” He brushed his thumb over my mouth. Again, the lightest of touches. I wanted to bite it, to suck on it. I wanted—
I wanted him.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then let’s do what feels right,” he whispered, the pinpoint of flame in his eyes nearly hypnotizing me.
I shut my eyes. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” His breath was warm on my face, his lips brushing against mine.
“Because,” I replied, stepping away from him even as my body screamed in protest, “it would be wrong. At least right now.”
I swiped the room key. It blinked green and I pushed the door open. I stopped before going in, looked at Cayden and said, “I will never forget what you did for me. But if anything ever does happen between us, it’s not going to be because you rescued me. And it’s not going to be while we’re working on a film together.”
“What if I don’t hire you again?”
I smiled. “That, my friend, will be your loss. But for now, what happened behind the Veil stays behind the Veil.”
With that I shut the door, the sound of Cayden’s laughter echoing in the hall as he walked away.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This was a tough book to write. The reality of my mom’s death hit hard, and debilitating pain in my hips and back took away going for long walks, my coping mechanism for stress of any kind. If I got a hundred words done in a writing session, it was a good day. Two hip replacement surgeries and subsequent recovery time later, enough of my writing mojo returned to finish Blood Ink.
So… to everyone who cheered me on through two surgeries and my transformation into a partially bionic woman, you are all the best. From cupcakes and cards to cat memes, to taking care of me when I could barely walk, to coming to my book events (special love to my stepmom, Gayle, for always showing up), to selling my books (Patrick N, looking at you), to hosting those book events (Mysterious Galaxy and Borderlands), you all played a huge part in raising my spirits. And special thanks to my “hip sister” Tori, for sharing your experiences and helping me manage my expectations!
Thank you, Steve Saffel, for giving me the gift of much-needed time, and for understanding that sometimes the creative gears grind to a halt when gummed up with grief and pain. You’re awfully nice for a Dark Editorial Overlord.
Many thanks to the rest of the Titan gang, especially Sam Matthews and Jill Sawyer, whose respective editing passes on Blood Ink helped make it a better, tighter read. As always, much appreciation for Katharine Carroll, Hannah Scudamore, Nick Landau and Vivian Cheung, Polly Grice, Gary Budden, Paul Gill, Laura Price, and anyone that I might have missed.
Oh, the performance anxiety of acknowledgments!
Hugs to Bill, my second dad and pal—our morning phone calls helped keep me going.
Much love to Jonathan and Sara Jo, who have brought so many wonderful things to my life, and who inspire me to keep reaching for the stars.
Thank you, Lisa, for being my beta reader and repeatedly telling me “you can do eeeeet!” I totally blame you for the craft beer. When I get through those hell dimensions I’m telling Mom on you!
And so much love for you, Dave, for learning to make coffee for me when I was healing and couldn’t do it myself, and for pretty much being there for me 24/7 during the writing of this book. And for making coffee. Did I mention the coffee? No greater love hath a man who doth not like coffee than to learn to make it for his temporarily infirm wife. You da best, baby.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dana Fredsti is an ex B-movie actress with a background in theatrical combat (a skill she utilized in Army of Darkness as a sword-fighting Deadite and fight captain). Through seven plus years of volunteering at EFBC/FCC, Dana’s been kissed by tigers and had her thumb sucked by an ocelot with nursing issues. She’s addicted to bad movies and any book or film, good or bad, which includes zombies. She’s the author of Spawn of Lilith, the Ashley Parker series (touted as Buffy meets The Walking Dead), the zombie noir novella A Man’s Gotta Eat What a Man’s Gotta Eat, and the cozy noir mystery Murder for Hire: The Peruvian Pigeon. With David Fitzgerald she is the co-author of Time Shards, a trilogy of time-travel adventures, and she has stories in the V-Wars: Shockwaves and Joe Ledger: Unstoppable anthologies. She lives in San Francisco with husband (and co-author) David, their horde of felines, and their dog, Pogeen.
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS
THE SPAWN OF LILITH
DANA FREDSTI
Out of the spotlight, in the darker corners of the studio backlots, Hollywood hides a remarkable secret. Actor or actress, set designer, electrician, best boy, or grip—in la-la land, it pays not to be human. Vampires, succubae, trolls, elementals, goblins—studios hire anyone and anything that can take direction, be discreet, and not eat the extras. (The less you know about your agent, the better.) Though only human, stuntwoman and struggling actress Lee Striga is a member of the legendary Katz Stunt Crew. They’re the best in the biz, in part because they can fly, and boast superhuman strength. When Lee lands a job on the movie Pale Dreamer, however, not everyone is following the script. It’s up to her to figure out who or what is killing the cast and crew. Especially when Lee goes from stuntwoman to lead role... and the next target.
TITANBOOKS.COM