On the inside I was quaking, but I had to tamp that down, fast.
I had a job to do. My first job. My make-it-or-break-it assignment. I was pretty sure that the Vampire ruler of the Americas wouldn’t give me a second chance if I botched this one up. Hell, if he hadn’t been screwing my mother for several years I’d worry that failure on my part would mean a more permanent form of termination. I never thought I’d see the day when Mom’s magical snatch might be my saving grace.
I smirked to myself and eased up to the long, wooden counter. The bartender continued rubbing the lacquer from the surface like I wasn’t even standing there. The drawback to being 5”4, petite and innocent looking—nobody took me seriously. Among other things, I was looking to change that.
I cleared my voice and spoke, “I don’t have all night, you know.”
Without raising his head, the bartender glanced my way through his eyelashes, clearly not impressed with the cut of my jib or some shit.
“Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here, but I believe you’re holding a package for me?”
He eyed me suspiciously before finally speaking, “Clyde send you?”
Either he was fucking with me or making sure I was legit. I don’t suppose it mattered which.
“No, but Clive did.” I smiled sweetly and he grunted, frowned.
“Wait here,” he said, disappearing through a door at the end of the bar top.
“Come here often?” A boyish voice said to my left.
I tossed a casual glance in his direction and sighed. Nerd boy was clearly out of his element—in his choice of beverage, choice of bar, and chosen pick-up line. Bless his poor little Potter soul.
I kind of felt sorry for him. “Look, I’m sure you’re nice enough…”
“I’m Dane, and you are?” He took a hold of my hand and pumped it vigorously before I could even blink.
I pulled back and wiped my palm on the side of my jeans. I had a weird thing about germing up my magic shooters. “Quinn.”
He grinned and sipped his drink though a neon colored straw. He wasn’t bad looking really, just young. I don’t mean in age either. Likely, he was somewhere in the vicinity of twenty-one like I was, but he appeared so much younger.
Or maybe I just felt older? That was a depressing thought and I didn’t need to think about any of that, so he had to go, adorable as he was in his trendy band tee, distressed jeans and chucks.
I lowered my voice and leaned closer. “Look, Dane, I’m here on business, but it was nice to meet you.”
Thank the gods, the bartender returned at just the right time. He flicked his gaze to my admirer and I shrugged my shoulders. It wasn’t worth taking the time to explain.
“You sure you can take care of this?” he said, ignoring the puppy dog to my left and hefting the package in front of his bird chest.
Mildly offended, I let a bit of my inner snark slip out. “Of course. Bigger isn’t always better, as you well know.”
While the bartender turned a pretty little shade of purple, I lifted the package from his hands. It was roughly the size of a shoe box and wrapped in heavy brown paper. It felt empty, but I knew that it wasn’t. Tucking the box under my arm, I nodded to both the bartender and puppy-boy, turned my back to both and marched out of the bar and into the blustering wind like I wasn’t on the verge of having a panic attack.
The rain pelted my face, but I hardly felt it.
Safely back inside the confines of my car, I turned up the heat, pressed my head against the seat and waited for my heart rate to return to something closer to normal. The dash blew cold air in my face and I punched it until the air grew notably warmer. For a clunker I picked up through an online message board, it was predictable with its quirks, which were many.
When I could finally breathe again, I examined the box. It was hard to imagine there was something important inside, but it had to be. Clive wouldn’t send me off on a wild goose-chase. And the bartender would never dream of ticking off the V-POTUS by tampering with the package. Not many people would.
While I was trying to get up my nerve to open the stupid thing already—cause, hey! Clive never told me not to—movement through the windshield caught my attention. I set the package down on the passenger seat and wiped the condensation from my windshield.
It was nerd-boy, walking down the opposite side of the street. He wore a long black duster now, and he looked a lot less wholesome than when I’d last seen him. Dane’s head swiveled back and forth, like he was scanning the street up ahead. That defiantly wasn’t a kiddie move, more like special-ops, and not at all what I’d have expected.
I covered Clive’s package with my coat. Hell, I was already soaking wet and I didn’t need the damn thing getting stolen right out from under my nose. I took care opening my door, got out and eased it shut behind me. Dane was already two blocks away and getting further by the second.
Where the hell was he going? There was a reason traffic and signs of life started dropping away the further east he went—he was heading right into the shittiest part of the city like he was taking a walk in the park. On a sunny day. Color me curious.
So I followed, carefully to stick to the shadows and not get too close.
After a while, I started to get cranky.
It was cold and I was tired. And nerd boy just kept going and going, like the freaking battery bunny. Finally, he deviated from his arrow-straight trek by turning north into an alley. I waited several seconds, pressed against the edge of the building at the mouth of it, listening. I heard nothing, not a foot-fall, not a whisper. Not even a flipping rat scurrying around.
My curiosity got the better of me, or maybe it was my impatient nature. But whatever made me peer around the corner I wanted to kick it square in the teeth. Because when I did, I saw three things. One, the alley dead-ended only fifty-feet away from the entrance. Two, there were no doors, windows or fire escapes at ground level. And three, my nerd boy had vanished into thin air.
I ducked into the alley to look around. Surely he hadn’t gone “poof” the minute he was out of my sight? Nerds didn’t dematerialize. Supes did that, and I definitely hadn’t sensed magic or anything when he’d stood next to me in the bar, panting like a puppy.
Just in case he’d made me and decided to hide, I leaned over to look behind a dumpster. While still bent over, the hairs on the back of my neck raised to record heights. I eased to a standing position and scanned the area behind me for signs of life. Nothing popped. I fiddled with my phone like an brainless girl would do in a dark alley, then turned around, keeping my vision wide and unfocused to catch movement before something caught me.
Still, I didn’t see a damn thing. That’s when I realized that the space around me had grown cold and dark, darker than it should have been. It was like a blanket of inky-blackness had wrapped itself around me.
I panicked. Two white-hot balls of fire kindled to life in my upturned palms, chasing the darkness back. It flickered once and then disappeared completely.
I was so done with nerd boy at that point. Not my circus, not my monkeys, I mumbled to myself and hurried out of the alley before whatever the hell that was decided to come back. Wasting no time, I speed-walked back to the bar and the safety of my little clunker.
I cursed the second my clap-trap car came into sight, but forced myself not react or run headfirst into possible danger. I had a reputation to build and squealing like a girl while Muppet-flailing wouldn’t help with that.
Still, the sight of my passenger door spread wide open, and the thought of somebody going through my things while I’d been off tailing the socially awkward guy from the bar, was enough to bring my power bubbling to the surface. It hissed and writhed under my skin, like tiny little neon-blue vipers.
I scanned the shadows up and down the street and saw nothing, but that didn’t mean I was in the clear. Far from it, I suspected. But what I knew without a doubt was two-fold: nerd boy was more than he appeared to be and I was so unbel
ievably screwed.
That super-important package my Vampire boss sent me to retrieve?
It was gone.
2
I kicked the passenger door shut, cursed to no one in particular, and made my way around to the other side of the car. My mind was spinning, and not for the first time I found myself thinking I was in way over my head. Sure, I’d dealt with a lot of adult issues when I was younger, so I felt older, smarter than most women my own age. But that didn’t mean I was, not with things like this.
Case in point. Five hours on the job and I’d already mucked things up. Clive was going to kill me. Maybe for real. And I didn’t even want to think what my mother would say. Her bark was just as sharp as her bite.
I shuddered and talked to myself as I climbed into my car. “Now what, genius?”
“Well I don’t know Quinn. What does one do when they lose a package? You can’t exactly call the police, now can you?”
I rolled my eyes, started the car and put it in gear.
“And just where do we think we’re going?” I asked myself.
Putting the car back in park, I eyed my phone. No, I couldn’t call Clive, not yet. I wasn’t ready to admit my failures. Which meant I couldn’t go home—not without the damn package.
I had to find it. Somehow. I needed time to think. I needed a plan.
The heat finally kicked in and I realized something else—I needed a shower.
Find a hotel, wash the grime from my body, and fill my belly. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had. Pulling out my phone, I quickly found a cheap (read: shithole) hotel, punched in the address to my GPS app, and pulled away from the bar.
My phone chirped from the hands-free holder. My mother again. Denied.
Four hours later, after checking into my new digs for the foreseeable future—a hotel room that I was confident had been the scene of at least one murder—I showered, tossed up some protective wards on the flimsy door, and stuffed myself full of the finest stale vending machine cuisine. Then I settled in to come up with a plan.
Since my only lead was the boy-man named Dane, I decided to focus my efforts on him. Like I had a choice. I didn’t have anything else to go on.
Given the out-of-the-way nature of the bar, I had to wonder if Dane was a local? He looked roughly my age, so maybe he was a college student? Like I should be, if I had any sense or cared about my future.
I tried social media first, but struck out. Next, I tried nearby colleges, but didn’t find anything there. Either Dane wasn’t from around here, or he stayed offline. But what twenty-something didn’t have a half-dozen social media accounts? None. Not if they were normal.
So that left him not being a local. If he wasn’t, then what the hell had he been doing wandering around Southside like he belonged there? It made no sense.
I had to regroup, figure out exactly what I knew and go from there.
I had a package. It was gone. It disappeared while I’d been following the nerd-boy with a death wish down a dark alley. That probably wasn’t a coincidence. Gibbs rule number forty-seven, or some shit.
Nerd boy acted one way in the bar and another moving about the city. He disappeared into thin air in that alley. Something maleficent had also been in that alley. One person, or two distinct somethings?
Either way, my supernatural radar was trilling like a cell phone.
Speaking of, my phone vibrated across the nightstand. A quick glance told me it was my boss, Clive. Probably checking up on me. To answer it or not?
I decided not. I’d text him later, hopefully after I had something more concrete to say. It’s not like I could tell him that I’d screwed up almost immediately.
Turning on the television to distract my brain for a minute, I hoped something would come to me if I didn’t focus so hard on everything. It didn’t. Instead I fell asleep to a Supernatural rerun, which filled my dreams with screaming demons and lickable hunters.
The glow of my phone woke me at five in the morning. It was a text from my over-protective mother. I rolled my eyes and threw back the covers. Grabbing the phone, I groaned and blinked my eyes against the offending light.
Mommy Dearest: Where the hell are you, Quinn? I’ve been calling you all day. Got a letter from UVA confirming you’d dropped out. WTH?
Well, shit. I was hoping to buy at least a few more weeks before she got wind of that. Damned collegiate efficiency. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of it right then.
Without a decent excuse, I went with my old stand-by: smart-assery.
Me: The daughter you are trying to reach is out of service. Please try again later. Error code: Don’t-Start-Mommin-Me-Now
A few seconds later my phone chimed.
Mommy Dearest: Nice. Don’t make me run a tracking spell on you. You know, like the one I did for Cassidy that ended up branding her FOREVER.
As far as threats go, that was a pretty good one. I so didn’t want to end up marked with some fucked up idea of a tracker tag. Goddess knows what I’d end up with. My mom’s best friend Cassidy had earned a little tattoo of Tinkerbell. That’s funny because she’s literally a Fairy. Well, maybe not so funny to Cass, but the rest of us got a huge kick out of it.
Either way, something to avoid.
Me: Working. Can’t talk. I’ll be home in a few days—we’ll discuss then. Okay?
I waited for her response, but none came. That probably wasn’t a good thing, I thought, tossed the phone down and buried myself under the covers for a few more hours of blessed sleep.
Later that night, I found myself full circle, sitting just outside the same damn bar, my car sputtering in the darkness. Without another option, I waited, hoping like hell that he’d come back. If he didn’t, I was pretty sure I’d have to fake my own death, smuggle myself to the Amazon jungle and live out the rest of my days in a water-logged hut with frizzy hair. And a sloth named Jim.
The gods must have taken pity on me, because within a half-hour I spotted Dane coming up the alley beside the bar. I slipped out, crossed the street and waited for him to come around the corner, trying to decide my play in those last few seconds.
I decided on a blitz. As he came in to view, I pounced like an exuberant Labrador. Grabbing him by his jacket collar, I spun and shoved him up against the wall. Not bad for a hobbit, I’d say.
Caught off guard, something very dangerous passed over Dane’s eyes as he tried to fend me off. His eyes locked on mine and the minute his fingers made contact with the skin of my wrist, the world went wonky, hot… and tingly.
It was not a bad feeling. Rather the opposite, I liked it too much.
I stepped back quickly, wrenching my arm free. “What the hell? What the fuck… are you?”
The boyish mask slipped over his face again effortlessly. “I’m so sorry. You startled me. I thought I was being mugged.”
My mouth dropped open, then quickly closed again.
“Quinn, isn’t it?” He said, stepping away from the wall.
“Uh, yeah.” I shrugged, shook my head to clear it. “Wait, I’m supposed to be doing the talking here. I want to know what you were doing last night after you left this bar.”
I stood tall and crossed my arms over my chest. The goal was to look tough, but more likely I looked like a peeved kitten. I couldn’t do anything about that. Hell, it may even come in handy someday. They say the best attacks are the ones people don’t see coming. That was my goal.
While I was pondering how to grow my street cred, Dane eyed me coolly, like he was deciding how to play it. I waited, hoping that my silence would make him uncomfortable enough to start trying to fill the space between us with words.
I could see it in his eyes the minute he reached a decision.
“Come inside, we need to talk,” he semi-smiled, turned and pulled open the bar door. “Ladies first.”
I scowled but stepped through the doorway. It was cold as balls outside and I wasn’t about to argue in the wind if I didn’t have to. Plus, after whatever the
hell he’d just done to me, maybe having witnesses around wasn’t such a bad idea.
Dane joined me just inside the door, then gestured to a table in the back corner, away from the sparse bar crowd. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it seemed he wanted privacy. Suited me just fine.
We sat and sized each other up. Under the florescent lights, he looked a little more like the naïve boy from the night before, but a sharpness remained. I was beginning to think he wore two faces, and wore them well.
“Look,” I started.
“I would like to hire you,” he interrupted.
“Hire me? To do what exactly?” I was not expecting that.
“Missing person. I’ll pay whatever you ask.” He drummed his fingertips along the table. His foot tapped against the floor and to the empath side of me, he was broadcasting the ants in his pants loud and clear.
I sighed and leaned back in the booth, shoving my hands in my coat pockets. “Look, I don’t know where this is coming from, but I’m not for hire. I wouldn’t know the first thing about a missing person. Shouldn’t you call the police for something like that?
“Come on, you’re smarter than that.” He reached across the grimy table top and ran a finger over the side of my face.
Instantly I felt drugged. Giddy, and warm and… wet? Fuck.
“Stop that. And you don’t know me, so don’t presume that you do.”
A waitress well past her prime stopped in front of our table. She sported close-cropped, bleached hair and a tank top that was best suited for someone with boobs that didn’t skirt one’s bellybutton. I averted my eyes, instead focusing on the Dane, formerly known as Nerd-boy.
“Whad’ya have?” she asked.
I started to decline, but that likely wasn’t the quickest way to get rid of her. Instead I said, “A beer, anything’s fine.”
“Same,” Dane said, not breaking eye contact with me.
She walked away without another word. Bet she made bank on tips. Not.
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