by Anya Breton
When I came around the corner behind the hostess and spotted the restaurant's owner I contemplated if putting on make-up had been the best idea. He was reclined in one of his larger rounded booths with his left arm tossed up over the back edge. His dirty blond hair was longer than the last time I'd seen him. It was curling around his ears and out where it hit the base of his bronzed neck. He needed a haircut but I was in no position to suggest it.
His eyes and mouth held a bone-tired expression that wasn't natural for him. It transformed the moment he spotted me. The frowning mouth lit into a bright smile until he got control of it, switching to the crooked smile I was used to seeing.
Grayson Dennison was the first member of the Underground factions I'd met after my father had given me my powers, transforming me into the full-blown Diakonos I was today. That had been nine years ago. A lot had changed in those nine years but apparently not everything.
"Gray," I nodded at him stiffly once I'd reached his booth.
He ignored my cool greeting to draw himself into his six foot two inch frame. He closed the space between us without a thought and pulled me into the circle of his strong arms. Gray was the very symbol of life in my eyes. It would be centuries before he'd begin showing his age of twenty-seven.
"How have you been, Lore?" He asked in a voice that sounded far too ordinary considering what he was, which was the most powerful shifter in the state of Massachusetts. He'd used my nickname, the one my friends had used when I was younger. It was nice to hear it again.
I tried to pull back so I could give the answer because this pose felt far too intimate. He held onto me for a few seconds longer before reluctantly releasing me. It was probably too long for two people who were supposedly just friends.
"I'm not here on a social call," I said, still stiff.
"I know," his smile faded a little. "You never visit me on a social call."
Like a gentleman out of time Gray helped me into the seat across from where he'd been lounging, gestured for someone to bring me a drink and only when he'd seen me settled did he take his own seat.
"I'd still like to know how you are," he said while we waited for my drink to arrive.
"I've had better days and I've had worse," was my noncommittal answer.
"You're walking pretty slow," he noted. "You must be in pain."
I nodded because there was no point lying to him. As a shapeshifter he'd sense the deception. And my being in pain would help me when I broke the news.
Gray's head lowered toward me so he could speak at a softer volume. "I've seen you heal faster than any of us. It must have been pretty bad."
My shoulders lifted flippantly as I scanned the room for potential threats. "It's a case of overexertion." The restaurant looked like an ordinary restaurant apart from the odd shifter here and there eyeing me warily.
Their leader's head drew back to eye me carefully. He must have spotted something he didn't like for his lips flattened and he soon declared, "You should see my Healer."
As Prime of Massachusetts, Gray had some nice perks. An on-staff Healer was one of them. An on-staff Healer that he could trust to keep their secrets from the Covens was even better.
"You should wait until you've heard why I had to heal before you offer me services," I said without meeting his eyes.
"I'll always offer you services, Lore, no matter what you did."
I didn't like the way his voice had dipped low when he'd said "services" but I supposed it was my own fault for using that word. Another flippant shrug punctuated my words. "I'll be good as new after a good night's rest."
"So this happened today?"
"Last night."
"Didn't you heal while you slept?"
"Some asshole woke me up at eleven this morning."
The waiter arrived with a bottle of orange Crush. I couldn't help but smile at Gray. He'd remembered my preference for sugary orange-flavored drinks.
"Thanks," I murmured while glancing away from the pleased expression that grew on his face. Sipping on the drink gave me an excuse to keep quiet.
"I've already got my season tickets for the B.S.O." Gray started in on a new topic. "Wes is planning a trip down for the Fourth. You're still playing in the Pops right?"
I was the only principle player that played in the Boston Pops as well as the Boston Symphony Orchestra. I'd begged for the right when they'd refused to make me associate principle. And I'd taken half the pay it would have usually merited to seal the deal. "Yeah."
"Excellent." His head bobbed as if it really were excellent. "We can't wait."
Wesley Dennison was Gray's younger brother. Unlike Gray, he'd stayed in upstate New York with the rest of the Dennison clan. It was actually very strange for a shifter to leave their family unit. But Gray had moved to Boston seven years ago. I supposed it had been a good move on his part considering the power he now wielded. He'd still be second fiddle to his father in the Dennison Clan if he'd stayed.
"Still no ring on that finger," Gray noted in a tone that was playful but the widening of his eyes seemed to say the topic was significant to him. "When is someone going to make an honest woman out of you?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "You'd think you'd have learned by now."
"Yeah," he half laughed, an uneasy sound to my ears. "Always the same debate, isn't it? You tell me you'll never get married and I tell you you'll be overcome with the typical female lust for matrimony as soon as you meet the right guy."
I bobbed my head in agreement, adding, "And I scoff at you long and loud until we agree to disagree. So let's just cut right to that."
"You haven't changed one bit, Lore," Gray replied with a broadening grin.
"I've changed." My lips twisted sourly. I pointed a finger to my temple. "I found a gray hair last week."
"That's aging, not changing."
I glanced away from him because it was a reminder that aging was something he wouldn't have to worry about for centuries. That particular issue would have been a huge sticking point between us if I'd ever been stupid enough to date him. Unlike vampires there was nothing a shapeshifter could do to keep their mate from dying a quick mortal death, not that I had any particular interest in becoming the walking dead.
"Speaking of the right guy, how's Zeno?"
I blinked hard at Gray, half in confusion at his leap and half in irritation at the name he'd uttered. It was the name belonging to my childhood best friend and sometime boyfriend. "We're off again," I said bitterly.
"Oh?" Gray's wheat colored eyebrow lifted. "How many times does that make now?"
"I've stopped counting." My voice was in its sharp I-don't-want-to-talk-about-this mode.
He gave a hearty laugh that irritated me even more. "You know if you'd picked me instead of him all those years ago, things would have been completely different."
"If I'd picked you all those years ago I would have been cheating on him. Neither of us would have respected me if I'd done that," I reminded him.
Gray's lips spread into his cheeky grin. "I could have handled a little loss of respect for you."
I let out an unladylike snort. "Like you knew how to respect women back then. How could I forget? You were a womanizing dog. Another reason I didn't pick you."
The cheeky grin fled to something darker that he quickly covered with a flirty wink. "It wouldn't have been a problem unless you'd fallen madly in love with me."
I lowered my eyes and said nothing. I had liked Gray when we were teenagers. I'd avoided anything serious with him because I'd thought I could have fallen bad for him. Hell, I still had a huge soft spot for him to this day. But one-night stands were his shtick and I'd never wanted to be one of those to him. Maybe the spot I'd stuck myself in was worse.
"So what did Prince Charming do this time?"
I lifted my gaze again. Explaining what had happened with Zeno was somehow more comfortable ground to be on. "He expected me to drop everything and move to London with him."
"He still doing that vent
ure capitalist thing?"
"Yeah, that and real estate development."
Zeno was also chasing a lead on our kind. But even after nine years of friendship Gray didn't know what I was. I'd never fully explained, only showed him what I could do.
According the Kastio we weren't allowed to tell anyone about what we were because it would reveal the existence of the gods to the world, something about the world being unable to handle it. That was apparently an issue even in the already hidden Underground. So I had the lovely distinction of keeping my nature a secret from not one, but two different societies. It was a big reason why Zeno and I had been on again off again for so long instead of just off. He was one of the only people on Earth with which I could actually relax.
Gray poked at the topic of my love life just a little more, "Any new beaus?"
My stupid, stupid brain immediately jumped to Aiden's lovely smile. Kastio was going to rant at me for that one. "Nope," I quickly retorted. "And before you say anything, I'm completely okay with that. It means I don't have to clean the apartment."
Gray chuckled lightly.
I fixed him with my best professional expression. "So did we get the niceties out of the way? Can I say what I came here to say now?"
His cheerful expression instantly faded. "Why you always gotta do that?"
I'd half expected that response from him and waved it off as if it were of no concern. But I did address it. "Because you're just going to try to flirt your way into my pants if I let you continue. It's not going to work anymore than it did back then."
Gray made a cutting gesture. I'd made him angry. That wasn't a good way to start this conversation.
I inhaled slowly for courage and then blurted out, "Last night I killed one of yours."
He nodded soberly, knowing trouble with shifters would be the only reason I'd have come here out of the blue. That or I'd needed his help. He knew me well enough to know I didn't ask for help lightly.
"His name was Chet Nimpton," I continued.
Gray didn't so much as exhale at the name. I didn't know what that meant.
"He was keeping women hostage in a basement in Jamaican Plain and blackmailing a werewolf to bring them to him. I'd have liked to find out who he was working for but he shifted and attacked me before I could get it out of him."
"He was working for the Covens," Gray told me. "He'd gone rogue a long time ago."
There were few actual rules in the Underground. One of those few was that everyone had to belong to a faction. If you didn't, you got the distinction of being considered "rogue" and could be subject to harsh punishment. Technically I was rogue. Most of the Underground thought I was some sort of witch and the witches thought I was some sort of fae. Since no one knew what I was for sure, no one could demand I join a group.
"Oh, thank the gods." I practically cried in relief upon hearing that the guy I'd killed hadn't been one of Gray's shifters any longer. Gray was one of the only people I hated disappointing. If Chet had been a golden boy among the faction I'd have felt awful.
"I wish I could tell you which Coven but I didn't know any more than that," he added. "I do know that whoever it was has a place inside the Dungeon."
I nodded. "Yeah, I've figured that much out." With a grumbling tone I added, "It's basically all that I've figured out."
Gray's head tilted a little to the right. "How'd you manage that? It took us years to track down that information."
My lips thinned because answering him required me to remember something that infuriated me. "Someone set Jim's newest construction project on fire with him still inside. I tracked the Fire witch down and...well...I did a little interrogation." Before I'd dispatched him to Hades. "He told me the order had come from 'on high'."
"Morrígan?"
We both knew the area Fire witches' high priestess fancied herself the human reincarnation of an Irish goddess. I shook my head because it hadn't been her that had given the order. "No, I don't think so. The Fire witch that did the deed only had a phone message and a hefty lump sum in his bank account to go off. He did know where the order originated from."
"The Dungeon," Gray deducted.
"Yup," I said just before a big draw on my orange soda.
"Jim's okay?"
Gray knew my father Jim Denham from when they'd both lived in upstate New York. Jim had worked with Gray's father on construction projects. As far as Gray was concerned, Jim was my biological dad. I'd never corrected his assumption because a blood bond does not a father make. Jim Denham had raised me. To me that meant he was my dad.
I nodded grimly. "He had some serious burns that I'm stealthily Healing each time I see him. But it could have been bad if he hadn't hacked his way out before the place fell on him."
Gray's gaze darkened upon hearing how bad it had been. "Did the witch say why the order had been given?"
I shook my head with a grumpy sigh. "He had no idea."
"It was probably something stupid," Gray said sourly. "Like they want to be able to buy the land cheap. Or they thought the building was an eyesore."
"Whatever the reason. Someone is going down for this." Besides the flunky that had done the actual deed. I wasn't going to risk Jim's safety now that the building project had resumed.
Gray's gaze grew determined as he caught my eye. "And lemme guess, you're going it alone."
A smirk curled the left portion of my lips. "You know me so well."
It was his turn to sigh. "You need to be careful, band girl. I...," His eyes slid away after using his personal term of endearment for me, the playful insult he'd coined during our summer working at a video store together because he thought it amusing I'd been a band geek, "...don't like to see you hurt."
"That makes two of us." I set my empty glass in front of me with a light thud. As delicately as I could manage in my linen dress I slid out from behind the table and then stood beside the table for a parting word. "Sorry to drink and run but I've got people to shake down."
Gray had already stood with me. He'd somehow managed to get himself between me and the entrance before I could stop him. This was always the worst part of seeing Grayson Dennison -- the goodbye.
I stood still for whatever he was going to do because it would make this go faster. But when he crowded my personal space I was wishing I'd tried to dart around him. His head lowered toward mine slow enough that I saw it coming. He always tried it and I always avoided it. Just before his mouth reached me I turned my head to the left.
The bastard anticipated it.
His warm lips pressed against mine. He made a deep sound in the back of his throat that I couldn't read. I was trying my damnedest to emulate a cold fish so he'd give up before I actually let myself feel what he was doing to me. Thankfully he drew back.
"See you later, Lore," he said with an expression that was half frown and half grin.
"Bye." My parting greeting was said with a flippant wave over my shoulder.
I supposed he'd let me off easy. And I wasn't talking about Chet.
Oh, I really, really hoped I could go another six months without having to see Gray Dennison again.
CHAPTER NINE
"Miss Denham," a pale-faced man who couldn't have been older than seventeen when he'd been turned greeted me with a bow of his head. "Please, come in."
I hadn't been sure I had the right house. The three-story brick mansion on Commonwealth Avenue had been rumored to be Aiden Bruce's residence in the city. I thought it a little ostentatious for a man that wasn't the lead senator in the undead Senate or one of the three rulers of Boston.
Apparently rumor was correct because I'd been ushered directly inside once I'd given my name. Aiden didn't know I was coming. I'd tried to keep it a secret even from myself to keep Kastio from interfering. Even though I was here on business, not pleasure, my guide would have given me a hard time.
The vampire led me through the large foyer and past a curved marble staircase. We entered a room with paintings so massive in scale that they w
ere intimidating, furniture too delicate and old to actually use and a nicely roaring fire that might be a tad too warm for early May.
"Lord Bruce will be with you momentarily," the vampire said politely. "Can I get you anything?"
Briefly I toyed with the idea of asking what they had. Would vampires keep wine around on the off chance a human appeared? Maybe it wasn't an off chance. Maybe Aiden Bruce entertained human guests on a regular basis. He had to get his fix somewhere, didn't he?
"No, thank you," I answered quietly because I was aware of how much the vast room echoed.
He gestured toward the furniture I had no intention of using, "Make yourself comfortable," and then left me alone.
I stood uncomfortably near the fire wondering if this had been a good idea. I'd told myself that I needed information and that I'd owed Aiden information in return. I'd also had the thought of making certain the five women had gotten safely home. After all, he could have easily kept one for himself and no one would have been the wiser.
My eyes drifted to the nearest massive painting, half expecting to see Aiden's silver eyes peeking out from somewhere within it. The composition was of a battle outdoors on a verdant countryside. Cavalry and their sinewy horses dominated much of the painted scene. But nowhere in it was Aiden himself. Perhaps he wasn't as egotistical as I'd imagined.
I looked up at the groin-vaulted ceilings that were decorated with intricate exotic floral designs and wondered if he'd commissioned that a century ago or if he'd bought the place as is. It bothered me that I wanted to know if these things were his choices or someone else's. But I did want to know. I wanted a clue as to who Aiden Bruce really was.
I scanned the other paintings lining the walls for silver eyes. A likeness of his face would give me an idea of what he might have looked like prior to being turned. It might be the only way I'd ever truly see him as he was meant to be.
"To what do I owe this most unexpected and immense pleasure, Miss Denham?" Aiden Bruce's buttery voice echoed within the grand space.
He'd caught me across the room peering into the third rank of a group of painted infantrymen. I despised being taken unaware even though it was exceedingly easy for a vampire to do. They could move with inhuman speed, cat-like grace and do it with unnatural silence.