The Promised One (The Turning Stone Chronicles)

by C. D. Hersh

  She tipped her head and gazed at him quizzically. Then she motioned to the chair beside her desk. He dragged the chair back to the front of the desk, out of arm’s reach. Sylvia relaxed and gave him a crooked smile. “So that’s the lay of the land,” she said sardonically.

  He took off his Stetson and perched it on his knee. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, Temple. I can take my time here. I’m going to be around for a while.”

  Not what he wanted to hear.

  She opened a folder and shoved it toward him, tapping the loose papers inside with her pen. “Got some questions about Baron Jordan’s case.”

  Here it comes. He moved the folder toward him, careful to avoid her hand. “Don’t know if I have any answers.”

  “What was he doing in a woman’s dress?”

  “Damned if we know.” But you do.

  “Forensics says there was a blond hair matching Baron’s DNA. What do you know about that?”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed that in the file.” He shuffled through the papers until he found the report and studied it intensely. “Guess he dyed his hair.”

  Sylvia crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a pointed glare. “Are you always this flip?”

  He tried to get some reading off her like he’d experienced earlier. The only thing radiating from Sylvia was annoyance. Maybe if he ramped that up. He ran his finger over the crease in his hat. “Nope. Sometimes it’s worse.”

  She planted her palms on the desk and rose, leaning toward him, irritation crinkling her smooth skin.

  He scooted back, not willing to risk contact.

  “Captain Williams told you to give me your complete cooperation, Temple, and I expect nothing less.” Her words were clipped, her voice tight.

  “And if you’ll check the reports, you’ll recognize I’m keeping nothing back. We know squat about this case. The police have more questions now than when we started.” He scraped his chair back and stood. There was nothing more to be gained from this encounter unless he was willing to get physical.

  He dropped his hat on his head and gave her a two-finger salute. “See you in the morning, Ms. Riley.”

  A guttural growl followed him as he exited the office. The woman sounded like a riled alley cat. He’d battled plenty of those. She’d be no different. He hoped.

  Chapter 41

  Shaw opened the door to Rogueman’s bar and went straight to the counter where Johnny stood polishing glasses. “It’s about time you called. I’ve been sleeping in the damned street.” Not what he wanted to do when he had a couple grand in diamonds in his pocket.

  Johnny gaze roamed over Shaw’s shifted form. When he got to Shaw’s eyes, recognition shone in his expression. “Hey, Danny. Don’t blame me. I’m just the errand boy.” Johnny motioned toward a table where a woman with long, black hair sat. “Yer fence is over there.”

  Shaw scratched an itchy spot on his head. He’d probably picked up head lice from sleeping near some bum. He’d have to take care of that. Lulu hated bugs.

  He studied the woman. The dame kept him waiting two days. He hated waiting. Two could play that game. Shaw settled onto a barstool. “Gimme a beer.”

  “I’d not delay, if I were ya,” Johnny said. “She’s not the patient type.”

  “I’m thinking of changing my mind,” Shaw said. “Only one more day before I get rid of the curse. Maybe I can get a spot at the homeless shelter tonight, save my stash for a rainy day.”

  Johnny slid a beer across the bar. “Or get mugged by one of her people.”

  “Shit. She’d do that?”

  “In a heartbeat.” Johnny went back to polishing glasses. “She seemed real interested in what ya had to sell.” He nodded toward the fence. “Get yer butt over there before she decides to feed ya to her piranha.”

  Shaw took his beer and walked over to her table. “I hear you’re in the market for some stuff,” he said.

  She motioned for him to take a seat. Shaw dug in his pocket then laid the plastic baggie with the necklaces on the table. As she extended her hand the ring on her finger, identical to the one Shaw wore, glinted in the overhead light. She emptied the contents on the table then placed a jeweler’s loop against her almond-shaped eyes.

  “Johnny says you might have some more.”

  “He talks too much.”

  Removing the jeweler’s loop from her eye, she stared straight at him. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”

  Crap. Had he screwed up again? He thought for sure no one would recognize the bum’s form he’d taken. “Doubt it. I don’t swim with the big fish.” She continued to stare at him, pinning him with a stare that made him feel like a trout about to get hooked. He squirmed in the seat. “How much you gonna give me?”

  She shoved the jewels back in the baggie without breaking eye contact with him. “Nine hundred.”

  He started to protest, but remembered Johnny’s warning. He could get a decent hotel, some lice shampoo, a big steak dinner, and have something left over for Lulu. He held out his hand. “Done.”

  She counted nine crisp one-hundred dollar bills into his palm then scooped the jewels into her handbag.

  Shaw pocketed the money. The woman gave him the creeps in spite of her exotic beauty. Those were the kind you had to watch out for. Not like his Lulu. She might not be stunning, but she was goodness through and through. A pang of longing for his old life rushed through him. He studied the bloodstone ring on his hand and noticed the woman following his movements with undisguised interest. Didn’t matter. He’d be rid of it soon. He shoved his ringed hand into his jeans. Just one more day, babe, and I’ll be back.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said as she stood.

  “I doubt it.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She crossed to the bar and, after speaking briefly to Johnny, left.

  Johnny appeared at the table with two beers. “What’d she give ya?”

  “None of your damned business,” he said. “And don’t come asking for no finder’s fee.”

  “She already paid me. Plenty. She was real satisfied with yer merchandise.” He plopped down in a chair and set the beers off the tray. “To success,” Johnny said, raising his glass.

  “And to ridding me of my problems.” That would be success for him. He took a big gulp of beer.

  “Speaking of that, there’s been a change of plans.”

  He nearly choked at Johnny’s statement. “Dammit, Johnny, I paid good money to set this up.” He rose out of his chair and glared menacingly at the barkeeper. “I swear if you screw me—”

  “Calm down. It’s just a different time. She wants to meet ya earlier.”

  “How early?” He didn’t want to make the exchange in daylight.

  “A quarter to eleven. She’s got something she has to attend to that night. Fifteen minutes extra is all the time she needs.”

  He dropped back onto his chair and raised his glass again. “To success.”

  Johnny clinked his glass against Shaw’s. “It’s too bad ya got yerself involved with us, Danny.” He studied Shaw for a minute. “Have ya got a family?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “We love a good story here at the bar. A tale about the shifter who sacrificed all the magic for love goes a long way in the telling. That is why yer doing it, isn’t it?”

  “It’s about the gimp leg and beard.” The farther Lula was from this crowd, the better.

  Johnny scraped his chair back from the table and stood. “Have it yer way.” He looked silently down at Shaw.

  The intensity of Johnny’s gaze made him uneasy.

  After several uncomfortable moments, Johnny spoke. “I’ll be missing ya when ya don’t come round, Danny.”

  Something in his voice made Shaw believe him. “I’ll come back for a drink, as the real me, after she gets rid of this curse.”

  Johnny shook his head, his mouth drawn into a thin line. “I’d not be so sure about that.” He held out his hand.<
br />
  Uneasiness settled over Shaw. The fence said the same thing. “You trying to tell me something?”

  Johnny moved closer and whispered, “I like ya, Danny, so I’m going to give ya a bit of advice and if ya say I said so, I’ll deny it, then track ya down and kill ya. Find yerself a new shift as ya walk out the door and don’t change back . . . ever.”

  Ever? That wasn’t going to happen. “Appreciate the advice, but I want my life back.” He grasped Johnny’s hand and pumped it. “Thanks for everything.”

  “It’s been nice knowing ya, Danny.”

  Chapter 42

  Alexi thumbed her cell phone off and shoved it into her pocket. “Rhys should be here in a couple of minutes. Are you sure we need to do this?”

  Eli took the screaming teakettle off the stove and poured boiling water into a ceramic teapot. “Aye. We have tae make sure he’s included. We need him.” He dropped three tea bags into the water and set on the lid. “He may not be a shifter, but he has a gun and, unless I miss my guess, isnae afraid to use it. Besides, going off and doing things on our own, without keeping him informed twill only push him away. Tae get him tae accept who he is we need tae draw him in.”

  She lined the three mugs on the counter next to the scones Eli had prepared. “I don’t know. He’s been very resistant.”

  “So’s a salmon in a bear’s mouth. All that flopping about after he’s been caught is for naught. But if he’d heeded the shadow on the water he might have stayed in the stream.”

  “So your strategy is to keep Rhys in water?”

  “‘Tis tae make him see the shadow, lassie. That’ll keep him alive and hopefully coming tae our side.”

  Alive was good. So was on their side. She rubbed the frown creases between her eyes. Worry deepened the two lines more every day.

  “Dinna be afeart. I have a plan.”

  That was good, because she was fresh out of ideas. The doorbell rang. Alexi answered it and ushered Rhys into the kitchen.

  Rhys eyed the scones and teapot. “Tea party, for me?” He took a scone and bit into it. “I’m not easily swayed by sweets, old man.”

  “Yer actions would say different, laddie. But ‘tis for me. I’m an auld man, set in his ways, and ‘tis tea time in Scotland.”

  “So why the meeting?”

  Eli waved him toward a chair. “We dinna have time before tae fill ye in on our doings, what with the she-devil being around and complicating things.”

  Rhys picked the plate of scones off the counter and sat at the table. “Nice of you to decide to fill me in. Better late than never. So what did you two do?”

  His sarcastic tone didn’t escape her. “I think we found our man. He’d been at the bar asking for a fence. Had a meeting already arranged and we took it over.”

  “Just like that?” Rhys took another bite of scone. “Seems way too easy, if you ask me.”

  “Eli dropped a name.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Not unless ye been hanging around in rogue shifter circles,” Eli said as he poured three cups of tea and handed them around the table.

  “No.” Rhys gave Eli a sharp stare. “Have you?”

  “I’m one o’ the good guys, laddie. Ye dinna hafta worry aboot me.”

  “I’ll reserve judgment on that, old man.”

  Eli liberally sugared his tea and then poured in cream. “And I’ll do the same with ye.”

  Rhys straightened. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that after the other night, when ye pulled the life force from us, then ran outta here hell bent, I’m not certain where ye really stand.”

  Alexi watched Rhys’ jaw work. Riling him was not a good plan.

  “You questioning my integrity, old man?” Rhys pitched the last of his scone on the table and jumped out of his chair, his fists clenched. “I said I’d stick it out until we caught Baron’s killer, and I’ll stick it out.”

  Eli took a sip of his tea, staring silently at Rhys over the rim of the mug. Waiting for Eli’s response, Alexi counted the ticks of the clock over the sink.

  “No matter what comes yer way? Because what we experienced the other night, and what happened with Sylvia, brings more danger tae the table for everyone.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Aye, I’m sure ye can. ‘Tis Alexi and myself I’m worried about. We need ye, if our plan is going tae work, but ye canna touch two of us together agin. Ye canna touch any two shifters at the same time until ye’ve learned tae control yerself.”

  Rhys’ face became the same color as the strawberry jam on Eli’s scone, his jaw muscle flexing so much Alexi thought his chin might jump off its hinges. She held her breath waiting for the crunch of shattering bone to break the tense silence. The soft bong of the living room grandfather clock pealed off the hour. Rhys’ clenched jaw relaxed ever so slightly with each chime. Alexi eased her breath out.

  “I’ve been trained as an Army Ranger, old man. Been in tight spots that would make you pee your pants, and I never flinched. I’ll keep my distance. You can count on that.”

  “Guid,” Eli said as Rhys unclenched his fists. “Sit down, laddie, and we’ll tell ye our plans.”

  Rhys lowered himself back onto his chair. He didn’t want to believe any of this Turning Stone bull or that he’d caused the power surge or the body shifting. But in all four incidents, he was the common denominator. If Eli was right, and he could drain their life forces, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  Alexi sat down across from him, her tense face the color of cream. Had she expected him to explode? Why not? He’d been doing it regularly for the past few days.

  “I’m sorry, Lexi,” he said gently.

  A flush of pink colored her pale cheeks. “Don’t be. I think Eli goaded you on purpose.” She cast a reproachful gaze at the Scotsman. “It seems to be his modus operandi.”

  Eli shrugged. “It works.” He raised his mug, took a sip, and then set it on the table.

  Directing his attention back to Eli, Rhys demanded, “Tell me the plan and don’t leave anything out.”

  “As Alexi said, we’ve got a meeting set for tomorrow night at eleven, but we need tae make certain Sylvia doesn’t get wind o’ it. Ye need tae keep her occupied while we’re conducting our business.”

  Babysit Sylvia? Not his first choice of jobs. Eli raised his hand, stopping the protest about to leave his mouth.

  “I ken ‘tis not what ye want tae do, but with what happened in yer office, I figure she’ll be keen tae get ye off tae herself.”

  A snort escaped from Alexi. “On herself is more like it.”

  “Lassie.”

  “Sorry.” Alexi dipped her head sheepishly at Eli’s reproach.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I understand where’s she’s coming from.”

  A startled expression flashed over Alexi’s face. “So you agree she’s after you?”

  No way would he admit that. “More like I recognize the green monster in your eyes.”

  She punched him in the arm.

  “Bairns, stop barking at the moon like dogs in heat. We’ve important things tae discuss.”

  Alexi crossed her arms over her chest and plopped against the back of her chair. “I am not in heat,” she said. “But he is a dog.”

  He bit back a smart retort. He’d missed their verbal sparring. “Sorry, old man. You were saying I’m supposed to keep Sylvia busy?” He gave Alexi a sidelong glance. “Take her on a date maybe?”

  A crimson flush crept from Alexi’s chest to her neck and her mouth straightened into a pencil-thin line.

  “Ply her with wine? Take her dancing?”

  “Knock her out with the butt of your gun,” Alexi said.

  “I dinna care how ye do it. Working dinner, date, kill her if ye want. Just keep the she-devil occupied until midnight and don’t touch her.”

  “Midnight?” he echoed. That sounded more like a date time than a working dinner.

  “Aye. We canna take the chanc
e she might take possession o’ the ring before Samhain ends. It belongs tae the Jordan family, and I mean tae be sure it stays in the family.”

  “I could tell her we’ve had a new development in Baron’s case. That ought to get her attention,” he said.

  “But she might want me there, too. I am your partner.”

  “The lassie has a point. It might be better if ye let her think it’s a date. No need tae include Alexi then.”

  “I’ll give her a call now and arrange it before she makes other plans.”

  “Wait until you get away from here, in case she’s got some kind of tracker on your phone,” Alexi said.

  “When did you get so suspicious?”

  “The day Baron was killed. Trust me,” she said. “She’ll drop everything when you come calling.”

  Sylvia walked into the office the next morning exuding the same catty smugness Alexi’s college “freinemies” had when they’d scored with her boyfriends. She fought down the wave of jealousy washing over her. It’s just work. Doesn’t mean a thing.

  “I want to go over Baron’s crime scene again. A fresh perspective might give us some new insight,” Sylvia said, after she’d called Rhys and Alexi to her desk. “Can you handle it, Jordan?”

  What the heck was the woman planning? She’d been there already, and pretty soon after the murder. She caught a glimpse of challenge in Sylvia’s face, purposeful and mean-spirited.

  “It won’t be my first time there. I can handle it.”

  Sylvia picked her jacket off the back of her chair. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Rhys stepped back as Sylvia swept past him then closed rank behind Alexi. “You okay with this?” he whispered. His hand brushed the small of her back in a supportive gesture.

  She took solace from his touch, longing to lean back into his hand. “Yeah, but thanks for asking.” She stopped, allowing Sylvia to get far enough ahead so she wouldn’t hear. “From the gloating attitude Sylvia gave me this morning, I guess she went for it.”

  “Jumped on it like a hornet on fresh meat at Oktoberfest.”