by C. D. Hersh
His outburst took them both by surprise. Lulu jumped away from him, shock at his flaring temper creasing her pretty face. Where the hell had that come from? He never talked to Lulu like that.
“Don’t bark at me. I’m just trying to make a good life for us. Besides, you said you had more cash coming. We’ll just use that as a down payment.” When he didn’t agree, Lulu’s lower lip trembled. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“Sure, I do. That’s why I got you those.” He pointed to the boxes, anxious to move to another subject. “Open ‘em.”
Lulu opened the pearl necklace first and nearly swooned. “I ain’t never seen a cubic zirconium that size,” she said, stroking the glittering stone. “Are these real pearls?”
Shaw took the necklace from her and fastened the strand around her neck. “Probably cultured,” he said, letting his fingers linger on the smooth skin beneath her chin. Wouldn’t do for her to know she had real pearls and diamonds round that pretty neck. Damn, she was soft.
Lulu giggled as he stroked her skin. “That tickles, Danny.”
He handed her the earrings and watched as she fastened them in her ears. “You’re beautiful, babe.”
Lulu gently touched the necklace and earrings. “They make me feel beautiful. I’m going to get a mirror. Be right back.”
Shaw pulled the engagement ring box out of his pocket and got down on one knee in front of the doorway Lulu had exited through. When she came back and saw him on bended knee, holding out an engagement ring, she broke into tears.
“I never got you a ring before because we were saving for the wedding.” He stood and slipped the ring onto her finger.
Lulu twisted her hand, catching the light in the prism cuts. “Oh, Danny, it’s the most beautiful zirconium I ever saw.”
“This one’s real,” he said, his chest puffing with pride. “No fake diamond for my wife’s finger. When you wear this, I want you to know you’re the most important thing in my life. I’d do anything for you.”
She gently cupped his chin in her hand. “Anything?”
He’d already stolen and murdered. There wasn’t much else that loving her would require. “Anything,” he replied confidently.
“Then get me a house.” Lulu rubbed his chin, her fingers scraping on the stubble. “And please get rid of this, Danny. You know I hate a man in a beard.”
The house he could probably do, but getting rid of the beard was going to be a helluva lot harder than knocking over a bank.
Chapter 30
“I’m going to have to go back to the bar where I found all those shifters, Eli.”
“Why, lassie?”
“Because I think Baron’s killer was just involved in a jewelry murder heist this morning. That’s what Rhys was here to tell me about. The captain is putting us on the case.”
“Do they ken the man yer after is a shifter?”
“No. He’s just one of several robberies committed by people with airtight alibis. First by someone who was a doppelganger to Baron, who was dead when the crimes took place, and now a man who is a frequent customer at the Le Gran’ Jewelry store. They pulled homicide in on this last case because of the murder. If these are all the same man, the one I followed yesterday, maybe someone at that bar can give us a lead.”
“Ye dinna know what yer walking into. It could be dangerous if they’re rogues.”
“Then I’m going to need backup, of the magical sort.” She looked Eli straight in the eye. “Is your word good or are you going to do a Sylvia and send me out alone?”
The old man drew himself to his full height and glared at her. “I’ll nae be sending ye out tae the wolves alone. But we canna go without a plan. Have ye any money in the hoose?”
“How much?”
“Enough for bribes.”
“Bribery? You’re really digging me in deep. I’ll get kicked off the force for sure if I’m caught.”
“Yer gonna have tae leave sooner o’ later when yer destiny kicks in.”
“Which one?”
“The one yer trying so tae avoid. The fulfillment o’ the Promised One prophecy. The bringing taegether o’ all the shifters intae a world o’ peace.”
“If we can convince Rhys to join us, I might just stop kicking and screaming at my fate.”
“‘Tis no if aboot it. We have tae convince him.” He redirected the conversation. “How much cash do ye have?”
“There’s a few hundred dollars in Baron’s safe.”
“That should do fine. Here’s what we’ll do.”
The lunch drinkers were gone and happy hour hadn’t begun when Eli and Alexi slipped into the Rogueman’s Bar mimic shifted as two burly male bikers.
“Better let me do the talking,” Alexi whispered, “unless you can disguise that brogue of yours.”
“‘Tis a wee hard, but I can. Being as ye know this area better, I’ll leave it up tae ye.”
“What’ll ya have, mates? Beer, draft or bottle?” asked the bartender as they sat down at the bar.
Alexi tried to place his accent. Scottish? Irish? She went with Irish, based on his flaming red hair. “Two drafts.” She dropped her voice down a couple of keys to match her brawny appearance.
The bartender set the mugs on the counter. “Haven’t served ya two here before. New to the area?”
Alexi nodded toward Eli. “My friend is. Is this bar new?”
“New again would be a way to describe it. The owner opens and closes it on whims.”
She glanced around. “Always this empty?”
“Nah. It does great business, mostly afternoon and evenings, but I gotta keep three jobs, just in case it shuts down, to pay my bills.”
Eli cleared his throat and nodded toward the door where two customers entered. She followed his motion, scanning the men’s auras as they cleared the doorway. One had a very dark red aura spiked with black. The other aura was dark red ringed with a rainbow of colors. The red pulsed like a faulty neon light. If she guessed right, they were a very evil shifter and a low-level mimic about to lose the ring’s aura. Is that what the aura of Baron’s killer would become?
“Get to the point,” Eli whispered, nudging her with his elbow.
She slipped a twenty-dollar bill under the cocktail napkin and slid it toward the bartender. “We’re searching for someone we think might have come in here the other day.”
“I hear a lot of things. See a lot of people.” The bartender peeked under the napkin. “What’s the bloke look like?”
She purposefully stared at the bloodstone ring on the bartender’s hand. “What does anyone look like in this bar?”
His eyes narrowed and he slid the napkin back to her. “As I said before, I keep three jobs just to pay the bills. Couldn’t afford to lose this one because the owner thinks I’m selling out the customers.”
She laid down another twenty, covering it with her hand. “I’d hate to think of your family out on the street.”
He nodded at her hand. “I’ve got three kids I need to support.”
She laid down two more twenties. The bartender swiped at the counter, catching the edge of Alexi’s hand under the towel. She released the bills and he swept them, and the twenty under the napkin, into his palm. “How will I know him?”
“You’ll know him by his eyes. Bright blue. He came in yesterday.”
He pocketed the cash then felt under the counter, got a beer mug, and started polishing it. “Who’s asking?” he said, as he held the mug to the light.
“That’s not for sale.”
The bartender wiggled his fingers at her under the cover of the bar towel. Alexi slipped him another twenty.
“Never met him before.” He motioned to their beer mugs. “If ya’ll not be drinking, ya’ll need to be leaving.”
Eli slapped some bills on the counter and stood, motioning to Alexi.
“If ya want me to watch for him, I can.”
“How much?” Alexi slipped her hand into her pocket for her wallet, but Eli stop
ped her.
“We can pay someone else as easily as ye. Ye’ll git no more till we git the information.”
“Where can I reach ya?”
Alexi handed him a slip of paper. “Call this number the minute he arrives.”
The barkeeper raised his reddish eyebrows in two surprised arcs. “Ya trust me with your number?”
“It’s not mine,” Alexi said. “And, no, I don’t trust you.”
Shaw rested against the building scratching his salt-and-pepper beard and waiting for the last drunk to stagger out of Rogueman’s Bar. He needed answers and this was the only place he knew to get them.
The red and green neon sign blinked off and on like a damaged traffic light . . . first go, then stop. Shaw felt as jerked around as the light. He thought he had everything figured out—all the wedding money, the ring, and a life of luxury for him and Lula—and now it was all down the crapper. All because of this damned beard and limp he’d developed. The only way he could get rid of either one was to change into someone else, and he didn’t think Lulu would like that much. The problems were tied into the ring, somehow, but he didn’t know what to do to fix them.
As the bar sign went out and the redheaded server who waited on him yesterday came out and locked the door, Shaw changed into the fat getaway man he’d used to rob the bank. Stepping into the darkened alley, he called out to the server. “Hey man! Got a minute?” The man flattened his body against the building wall, striking a defensive pose. Shaw stepped closer, hands in the air. “It’s me. The guy from yesterday. Remember?”
“Bloody hell,” he said as recognition flashed over his face. “Didn’t I tell ya to stay away?”
“I need to talk to you, man. It’s important. Can we go somewhere?”
The barkeeper unlocked the door. “Get in here before anyone sees ya.”
Shaw entered the bar and jumped as the door crashed shut. The man lowered the shade on the door, flipped on one set of lights, and motioned him toward the bar.
“Might as well get ya a pint. I have an idea this is gonna be taking a while.”
He hopped onto a barstool and then off again. “Damn, that’s uncomfortable. How do fat people sit on those things?”
“Most don’t.” The server moved a table out from a bench seat and set two beers down. “Try this.” He pointed toward the bench. “Or ya could just shift.”
Fat hanging over the seat was better than an itchy beard and dragging a game leg around. He sat down on the bench and slid the beer toward him.
“I see ya took my advice and changed yer ring hand. But ya didn’t throw it in the river.” The bartender took a gulp of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “What’s yer name, mate?”
“Danny. What’s yours?”
“Ya can call me Johnny. So what’s yer problem?”
”I’ve got a beard and gimp leg I can’t get rid of.”
Johnny stared at him and then looked under the table at his legs. “Ya don’t seem to have those things now. Yer going to have to shift so I can check out the problem.”
“Shift? Oh, you mean change. Shift. Is that what it’s called?”
“You don’t know nothing, do ya, man?” Johnny’s mouth twisted into a lopsided grimace and he shook his head. “What have ya been doing with the ring?”
“That’s none of your business.” He didn’t know this jerk from Adam. No way was he going to spill his guts.
“Doesn’t matter. I know it wasn’t any Boy Scout deeds. When ya mimic shift and do evil with the ring, ya retain some of the characteristics of those ya shift to.” He scooted his chair back and folded his arms across his chest. “Shift to yerself and let me see what we got.”
Shaw hesitated, studying Johnny. Should he do what he asked? Could he trust this guy? He must know something about the ring, because he figured out I’ve been messing on the wrong side of the law. Nobody knew that. Not even Lulu.
Lulu. Everything he’d done had been for her. Hell, this was for her, too. “I’m not very good at it,” he told Johnny.
“I’m not going to judge yer skill, man, just try to figure out how much help ya need.”
Shaw pictured his image in his head and within minutes the surge of transformation ran through him. He ran his hand over his chin, the whiskers pouring from his skin like water from a tap.
Johnny gave a low whistle. “Ya must have done a lot using that fella for the beard to come in like that. Is the game leg from him, too?”
“No. I only used him once.”
“And ya got his limp the first time?”
“Yeah.”
“Are those yer own eyes? They’re still a bright blue.”
“Are they supposed to change?”
“They will if ya’ve been taught how to use the ring properly. Takes a bit of practice, though.” Johnny’s mouth drew into a thin line. “When did ya start using the ring?”
His first contact with the ring had been on the 19 and today was the 25. Shaw counted on his fingers. “About a week.”
“Good God, man! Have ya been pillaging and killing like a damned Saxon?”
He didn’t know what a Saxon was, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to murder. “Can you help me or not?” he said brusquely.
“Not me, but I know someone who might. Her help doesn’t come cheap. Might cost a few thou for her, and I’ll need a ten percent fee for making the arrangements.”
Shaw made a protesting noise. “That’s highway robbery.”
“I’m taking a risk by contacting her. That’s worth something.” He shrugged dispassionately. “Course, if you like that beard . . .”
“I can probably scrape something together, if you’re sure she’ll fix me.”
“It means ya’ll have to get rid of the ring.”
Shaw hesitated. Without the ring, he couldn’t give Lula a life of luxury. “Can’t you just teach me how to use it?”
“I’m not a mentor. She could probably teach you, but I’m thinking you might be better off dead than messing with the likes of her.” He glanced around, even though the place was empty, and whispered, “She’s just as likely to bump ya off as give ya the time of day. You’d be wise to offer her the ring, too, especially because it’s so close to Samhain. If you’ve no mentor to protect ya, ya won’t last anyway.”
A shiver ran over him. Sounded like one nasty dame. “Okay. Tell her I’ll pay what she wants and give her the ring.”
Life as a poor man with Lulu was better than no life at all. Maybe the remaining jewelry he had to fence would be enough to get a down payment on a house and leave something for savings. If not, he’d do one last job before giving away his gravy train.
“Where can I reach ya?”
Shaw gave him the number of a pay phone near the Dew Drop Inn. “Call me at this number to let me know her price. I’ll be there every afternoon at three.”
“Make it five a.m. I gotta work at three. And be sure yer there to take my call. She won’t take it kindly if she thinks ya’ll screw her.”
Chapter 31
“You missed your lesson yesterday,” Sylvia said as she opened the hotel room door. She gave Alexi a withering stare. “I don’t like it when people keep me waiting.”
“Sorry. First day back at work. Things got hectic.”
“I called your office. You weren’t there.”
Anger shot up her spine and out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Don’t ever call me there again,” she said sharply.
Sylvia shut the door behind her. “Don’t be such a priss. No one knew who I was.”
Alexi faced her, arms hugging her chest protectively. “That part of my life is closed to you, Sylvia. Don’t go getting all buddy-buddy with my coworkers.”
Sylvia tipped her head to the side and studied Alexi. A sardonic smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Trouble at home? Is that what has your panties in a bunch?”
Only sheer willpower kept her from slugging Sylvia; that, and Eli’s admonition to keep her enemy clo
se. Beneath the cover of her arms she forced her curled fingers open.
“That is the other place you’re to keep your nose out of.” She relaxed, moving herself into a less tense pose. “I’ve only got an hour before I have to report. Are you going to give me a lesson, or just stand there jawing?” Despite her efforts to keep it out, her voice dripped with antagonism.
A muscle at the corner of Sylvia’s eye twitched angrily. “I’d like to give you one you’d never forget.” The room grew icy with her ire. “But, we need each other. So I’ll have to settle for besting you at something else.”
She questioned whether or not Sylvia would be able to best her at anything. Eli’s testing had bolstered her belief in her abilities. I’m a Promised One. That should make me as powerful, or even more powerful, than you are. Alexi straightened her shoulders and stood erect, a surge of confidence filling her. Bring on your best, she-witch.
Sylvia shifted into a man with a fluidity that whooshed the poise out of Alexi in one breath.
“Match me,” Sylvia said. “I’ll give you five seconds.” She looked down at her watch and started timing Alexi.
She took in every feature of Sylvia’s mimic and then concentrated on holding that mental image as the heat of transformation tingled its way through her. When the pin prickles stopped, she opened her eyes. Reflected in the mirror over the desk, Sylvia stood next to her, a twin to her mimicked form.
“Not bad,” Sylvia said, tapping her wristwatch. “You only missed the target by four seconds. You’re a lot farther along than you led me to believe.”
“I don’t recall leading you to any conclusion. So tell me what I need to do to get as fast as you are.”
“Tap into your alter ego. You can shift into Garrett effortlessly, can’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Try to imitate whatever process you use for Garrett when you mimic shift.”
“It can’t be that simple.”
“It should be for you. You’re a Jordan.”
Was she back on the Promised One kick? Trying to ferret out her skill levels again?
Sylvia made a disgusted sound. “I can’t believe Baron didn’t teach you such a basic thing. Any talented Turning Stone child should be able to do this.”