Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel (Book 3)

by Mayer, Shannon

  I used my momentum to roll up to my feet, facing Faris. He was glaring at me. I glared right back, embarrassed at how easily I’d fallen under his sway, how my body had responded to his.

  “Who the fuck is Liam?”

  Wow, he seemed really perturbed by the idea that it wasn’t him who’d turned me on. My eyes widened and I shook my head as much to clear the lingering arousal as to deny him.

  “No. I’m not going to tell you shit.”

  He drew himself up and continued to glare at me. I just didn’t know what was going on. The first time we’d met, he tried to enthrall me, and then he’d attacked me. Next, he helped me get rid of the demon venom (in a roundabout way), and now he seemed almost jealous of the fact that I hadn’t called his name after a minor tryst that my mind had barely been present for.

  “What the hell, are you bi-polar or something?” I frowned at him. “Can you just make up your mind whether you’re going to kill me or . . .” Yeah, didn’t want to say that, no need to encourage him to—

  “To kill you or . . . what?” He purred, his eyes trapping me. Shit, I’d walked right into this one.

  I licked my lips, and his eyes tracked the movement sending my heart into a spiral of out of control thumps that I really didn’t want to analyze. “Nothing. Kill me or don’t. But no more games.” Okay, that sounded good.

  Right.

  He smiled, and it was the smile he’d given the dowdy servant in his memory. “I think we are just getting started. We got off on the wrong foot. I was working under a certain . . . assumption.”

  “You need to leave. I have kids to find.” I itched to have a blade in my hands; vulnerability ate at me. And I was hoping that I could get him to leave, though I doubted he would do so before he was damn good and ready.

  Pamela let out a groan and my eyes shot to her. She was swaying on her feet, gripping the back of the chair. “Rylee, what happened?” Her words were slurred as if she were still partially spelled.

  Faris turned toward her.

  I did the only thing I could. Two quick steps and I grabbed his arm, yanking him back toward me, our faces not more than a whisper apart. “Leave her alone.”

  “You reek of fear, Tracker,” he murmured. “I like it.”

  It took everything I had not to start shaking. He could pull me apart like a rag muffin doll if he wanted to. But he didn’t, he just lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips along my hairline.

  “I’ll go for now.”

  I didn’t dare take my eyes from him, as if I could somehow stop him if he tried something. Ha! If only it were that easy. He seemed to hesitate, his lips parting and then he stopped.

  “You follow your heart too much. It’s a deadly way to be in our world.”

  Then he was gone, slipping out the front door with hardly a sound. I slumped to my knees, remembered Alex, and stood back up, stumbling to where I’d seen him hit the wall. Even the Guardian we’d faced had not been able to knock Alex down, not like this. The werewolf was at a bad angle, his back clearly broken against the corner of the wall. The wall wasn’t looking so good either, but Alex . . . shit. His body was at nearly a ninety-degree angle. Backwards.

  Shaking, I crouched next to him. “Hey, buddy, can you hear me?”

  He didn’t answer but his tail thumped weakly, his body already putting itself back together. He would be okay, even with a broken back, but I had to straighten him out unless I wanted a crippled werewolf at my side for the rest of my life. Goddamn that vampire for making me do this.

  “This is going to hurt a minute. But I have to do it,” I said. One big breath, and I gripped his hind legs and pulled them out straight, aligning his body, his spine crackling where it had begun to heal.

  Alex let out a whimper, and then stilled, blessedly passing out.

  I got a blanket and covered him up on the floor. Fuck, he would be sore for at least a couple of days. A spinal injury was the worst thing that could have happened; but at least he was alive. Fuck Faris and his need to show up at the worst possible time.

  “You just rest, buddy.” There was nothing else for him now but to heal. The rest of the case was going to be on me and me alone.

  Next, I moved to Pamela. Her eyes were only at half-mast, her lips drooping. I snapped my fingers in front of her face. Nothing.

  “Pamela, wake up.” I said, clapping my hands. Again, nothing.

  Prompting her, I led her to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it full of water. “Come on, Pamela. I don’t want to get you wet, but I will.”

  I shrugged—wet wasn’t all that bad—and flung the large cup of water in her face.

  Gasping, her eyes flew open, and the cupboard doors ripped off their hinges and flew into the air as her power pulsed out of her. She spun, crouching as she scanned the room. Good instincts on her, at least.

  “He’s gone.”

  “Did you kill him?” She didn’t get up from the crouch.

  “No, not yet. He’s stronger than me by a long shot. If I get a chance, well, that’ll be the day I end it for him. Vampires don’t give you many chances, though. That’s why they’re at the top of the food chain.”

  Pamela shivered, eyes wide with fear. “I couldn’t stop myself, I . . . .” She knelt down, her shoulders shaking as she cried out the terror and the guilt. How did I know what she was feeling? Cause I was struggling with the same emotions. Faris just seemed to have that effect on people.

  Helping Pamela to her feet, I led her to the bedroom and handed her some of my clothes. “Here, see if these fit.”

  I went back out and checked on Alex. His big golden eyes were open. “Alex hurts.”

  Stretching out beside him, I carefully put one arm across his middle. “I know, but it will get better.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. But you’re going to stay here until you’re better.”

  He didn’t answer me, his breathing eased and he slipped back into unconsciousness. Good thing too, since painkillers wouldn’t have helped him any, at least no human ones. And I had nothing in my gear for something of this magnitude. What I needed was a Shaman, and I didn’t think I was going to find one of those over here in London.

  “These fit okay,” Pamela said.

  Lifting my head, I could only see that the bottom of my jeans had been rolled up at least three times. She was dry and ready to go.

  Giving Alex one last stroke across his head, I dusted off my pants. “I’m going to get my weapons, and we need something for you too.”

  “I have my magic.”

  I snorted. “How’s that working out for you today, again?”

  She lowered her head. “I said I was sorry.”

  Maybe I was being too tough on her, but I knew what Giselle would say. Better that I was tough on her and she survived rather than the alternative.

  “Don’t be sorry. Just learn. That’s your job now. You can’t always rely on your magic. You saw how Milly was able to be taken down?” Pamela nodded and I went on. “I didn’t even have any weapons.”

  “So I need to learn to fight, like you?”

  “Yes.” I handed her two of my blades, each on their own sheaths. “Take these, find a spot on your body where you are comfortable with them.”

  She fiddled with the leather sheaths and straps for a moment while I put on my crossed back sheath.

  “Where do you think I should keep them?”

  I took the first one from her and had her turn around. “You right handed?” She gave me a nod and I went to work. “I like to keep one in my lower back, sideways like this.” I laid the sheath perpendicular to her spine, the handle easily reached by her right hand.

  “The other one . . .” I motioned for her to lift her left leg and I strapped the smaller blade to her calf. “Lots of people strap their knives too low; all that does is impede your ability to run.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “Run?”

  “From the bad guys.”

  I finished getting my gear together
and then gave Pamela a once over. Bedraggled was the first word that came to mind. Her hair was damp and knotted, her clothes were too big and her eyes too wide. I tentatively Tracked her, getting the gist of her emotions.

  Fear was at the top of the list, followed by guilt, and then uncertainty.

  The kids were waiting on me, as was O’Shea and Berget.

  But Pamela needed me right now. I sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking about what Giselle would do.

  “Go in the bathroom and grab my brush and hair elastics, would you?”

  She nodded and scampered off. Likely, she thought I was going to show her some wicked way to use a brush to kill someone.

  As she came back in, I pointed at the floor in front of me. “Sit; put your back to me.”

  I took the brush from her hands and worked my way through her tangled hair. Pamela flinched when the brush first touched her scalp, but slowly relaxed as I combed out the snarls and the rats nests. How long had it been since someone had laid a gentle hand on her? Despite my past, there had been moments of kindness, mostly from Giselle, but even my parents had treated me well before Berget went missing.

  “This is nice,” Pamela whispered.

  The tension in the air Faris had left behind slowly dissipated. Maybe Pamela wasn’t the only one who’d needed a moment to breathe. To slow down. I so easily got caught up in the rush of doing what needed to be done, forgetting that not everyone could keep up. Even at times, myself.

  Her hair was silken under my hands as I braided it, thinking about Berget and the times I’d braided her hair.

  “One or two braids?” I asked.

  “Two. Please.”

  I thought about the picture we made, if anyone had come in. I was decked out in my leather jacket still, the tips of my swords peeking above my head. Pamela sat at my feet playing with the knife we’d strapped to her calf. But still, it was soothing to braid her hair, to let my fingers do something so innocent for once.

  Tying off the second braid I patted her on the shoulder. “There, that should be better.”

  Her hands went to her head, fingers tracing down the bumps of the braid. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, no problem. Now let’s get going. We’ve got work to do.”

  Pamela stood up, faced me, and smiled. Really smiled, and I knew I’d done the right thing. There was my one good thing for the day.

  I’d made my new witch smile.

  Of course, the smiles didn’t last. Not once we’d made our way back to the police station. No, the smiles were wiped off our faces in about three seconds flat.

  It started with Denning.

  “Who the hell do you think you are? You were seen fleeing from the scene of an ARSON!” he was roaring by the end of his sentence, his face brilliantly red with fury.

  Then Agent Valley jumped in on the act. “God damn it! Did I not say wait for us? Are you incapable of following ANY orders?”

  Then it was onto Will. He was the worst. He didn’t say a word, just ignored me and Pamela as if we weren’t even there. I sat in the chair at my desk and Pamela pulled up a chair next to me. I knew a silent treatment when I saw one.

  Wouldn’t work though, at least not on me.

  “Pamela, what did you think of that vampire?” I asked, pointedly not looking at Will.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, but the girl caught on quick. “He scared the shit out of me.”

  I reacted the way Giselle would have when I was young. “Language. You can use whatever bad words you want when you’re an adult. Not when you’re a kid.”

  She blushed, and I leaned back in my chair, fingers laced behind my head. I Tracked the missing kids, getting a bead on them almost instantly. They were way the fuck out there now, way far south; we’d scared the bloody Necromancer something fierce. Good and bad. He knew we were coming now, but shit, we needed him to hold out, to stick around in one place for a while.

  Will finally took the bait. “What vampire?”

  “Hmm? Are you talking to us now?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him.

  Pamela twiddled her thumbs all innocence and sugar. “I didn’t think he liked us anymore,” she said softly. Score one for the kid, Will’s face drained of colour.

  “Nah, he’s just pissed that we didn’t take him with us. Thinks that we should just trust him implicitly though we’ve known him for less than forty-eight hours.” I gave Will a look, the one that had cowed many a man, many a supernatural, for that matter.

  It worked like a charm. He let out a sigh. “Listen, you just made our job that much harder—you erased evidence, all those kids’ bodies gone.”

  I shook my head. “You and Denning and Valley are so busy being angry you didn’t bother to ask if I learned anything.”

  Will’s eyes widened, bleeding from brown to green. “Did you?”

  I nodded and put my feet up on the desk. I had to play this right or we’d never find the kids, not with half the fucking task force tagging along. Sure, I’d made a mistake. I wasn’t fucking perfect. But now I had an idea of what we needed to do in order to catch the Necromancer.

  “You in or out, Will?”

  There were no other words needed. He grimaced and then nodded. “Yeah, I’m in.”

  “Good, because the first thing I need you to do is find someone who can help us with the Veil. We need to block an exit if we’re going to catch this bastard. He can jump through the Veil without leaving a trace behind. I can’t stop that, neither can Pamela.”

  “Block the . . . is that even possible?”

  I wasn’t positive, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “My Shamans back home could do it. You got anything comparable?”

  He frowned. “Yes . . . there is someone I know that should be able to help. But we’ll have to get past my Destruction and that could be tricky, they aren’t happy with me right now.”

  I stared at him blankly, and then lifted one finger to stop him as he moved to leave. “I’m sorry. Destruction? Are you in a demolition crew that I don’t know about?”

  Will laughed. “A group of wild cats is called a Destruction of Cats. Apt, considering just who it’s applying to. Try to stay out of trouble until I get back. I need to check it out with my contact first, and I don’t want them to get spooked by you.”

  I laughed and stood as he moved around the desk and headed for the front door.

  “You don’t think you’re going without us, do you?”

  Will shrugged, and then snorted softly to himself. “Suit yourself, but not all the cats are as sweet as me.”

  Touching Pamela lightly on the arm, we headed out after Will. It seemed that London had shown me a lot of the backside of Will, and while it wasn’t a bad view, it did nothing for me. Pamela, on the other hand, seemed more than happy with the view we were given.

  “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?” she said, her voice low.

  I had to clamp my teeth hard, remembering at the last instant how fragile young girl’s egos could be. In that moment, I missed Giselle more than ever. She would have known what to say, how to handle Pamela so that she wasn’t completely fucked up by the time she was an adult. Poor Pamela, all she had was me.

  “Yeah, I guess. If you like a scrawny kind of guy.”

  She giggled into her hand, and I did my best not to roll my eyes. God save me from witches; maybe they were all libido driven? Shit, the only thing I could hope for was that she didn’t turn out like Milly.

  17

  The boat rolled as they crossed the channel, the waves crashing against the sides, sprays of salty water bursting up and over the guardrails where Milly leaned over, heaving her guts out.

  O’Shea smiled, or at least tried to. If he thought he could push her over the edge, he would; if he thought he could get close enough to get some of the salt water on his torc, he’d go for that too. As it was, he’d tried to do both several times to no avail. The witch groaned and started to come back up over the railing, then shook her head and heaved again, long
dark hair getting caught up in her vomit. The night sky was brilliant overhead, and it was probably the only thing that kept Milly from completely humiliating herself. There just weren’t that many people up at this hour.

  Only two people came by to check on her, but they both took one look at O’Shea standing guard and skittered away. Milly had told him to stand guard over her—to not move—the last words she’d managed before starting her marathon puke session.

  The candle maker’s wax was still secure in his waistband, but that too was out of his reach. Milly hadn’t given him leave to do anything other than what he was doing.

  Nothing. Just him and his brain scrambling for a way out of this fucking gong show. What he wouldn’t give to be just a werewolf . . .he blinked several times, struggled with the fact that he’d actually thought that. Being made a slave by Milly made his previous issues seem . . . trite.

  A snap of wind coursed passed him, and he closed his eyes against the movement and moisture it brought with it. That one blink was all it took, and he and Milly were no longer alone.

  The figure in front of him was all too familiar. O’Shea remembered clearly the spell the vampire had put on Rylee, how she’d fought him on her own. His muscles tensed, but he could do nothing. But Faris didn’t even look at him. As if O’Shea wasn’t even there.

  “Milly,” Faris said, his tone condescending. “If the baby is giving you that much difficulty, we could correct the situation.”

  She whirled, her face an odd mixture of green and white under the starlight. “Faris, you shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. I could have killed you!”

  He laughed, the bastard just laughed at her. “Oh, please. Don’t be stupid.”

  Her face went from white and green to just white.

  Please let them kill each other.

  If only it were that simple. Faris walked to Milly and tucked her arm in his, an old fashioned gesture that forced her to his side. “Come now, let’s have a chat, shall we?” They were facing him now, walking his way.

  “No, I said I’d help you, it didn’t work. I’m free of any obligation,” Milly said, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. O’Shea took it all in, attempting to memorize everything he heard and saw. There was no telling what would be useful later.