“I studied photojournalism,” she reminded him. “I’ve seen all kinds of gory and disturbing photos, many worse than that. It’s difficult to shock me.”
“Oh,” Jet responded, still bothered by her indifference. “What you’re looking at is the work of an assassin by the name of Blackjack. With Roan and Draco out of the picture, he is the top assassin that we know of. The last we heard, he was somewhere in South America. Why he came here, I don’t know. It’s possible he’s the cause of the all the unrest among the assassins, perhaps making a play for Adara’s territory or . . .”
“Or . . . ?” Isis repeated when Jet trailed off, waiting for him to finish. Jet rubbed the back of his neck, considering his next words. The sun on his back suddenly felt uncomfortably hot. He glanced at Isis, lowering his hand again.
“Or he could be after the four of you,” he finished. Isis stared at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she shrugged and spread her hands.
“Isn’t every assassin out there after us?” Isis pointed out.
“This one’s different,” Jet explained. “Isis, he has been around for a very long time, certainly longer than me. I don’t want the four of you going after him.”
“Don’t hunt the wacko with a playing card fetish. Got it,” Isis summarized, her tone still annoyed. “Can I go?”
Jet nodded and she stood up and left the study. She hadn’t been gone for more than five minutes when Lilly hurried into the study, uncharacteristically flustered.
“Lilly, what’s wrong?” he asked, unable to conceal the concern in his voice as she closed the door behind her. Lilly was almost never rattled. To see her in such a state was worrying. Jet stood from his chair and approached her.
“I received word from Ivy,” Lilly explained, grasping his hands within her own. “Isis’ protector has been brought to the Meadows, badly injured.”
“Steve?” Jet asked. “What happened?”
“I do not know, but Ivy suggested it might have been Blackjack,” Lilly didn’t need to say anything more. Jet ran a hand over his mouth. So Blackjack was targeting the Four, probably Isis in particular. The Deverell family had always been a thorn in the assassin’s side and Jet knew a few of Roan’s brothers delighted in needling various assassins.
“Is he all right?”
“Amethyst believes he will be,” Lilly responded. “She was with him in the healing wing when I left.”
“I’ll head there right away,” Jet said as he took a step back. He paused only when Lilly stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest, halting him from disappearing.
“What do we tell Isis?”
Jet thought for a moment. Steve came from a family of protectors, but Isis didn’t know. To her, he was just a friend that she had known for most of her life.
“We don’t tell her anything for the time being,” Jet replied. “If he’s going to be okay, then it’s not our place to tell her.”
“I’m going with you to the Meadows,” Lilly said and Jet nodded, already assuming that she would. Lilly was co-leader of the protectors, his partner, and she had the same duties as he did. Jet turned back to the desk, picking up the phone and pressing a few buttons. He waited for Remington to pick up the line in his quarters.
“Yes?” the rich Irish brogue filtered through the receiver.
“Lilly and I have to run to the Meadows. Steve was in an altercation. I need you to keep the Four here for the time being,” Jet spoke hurriedly.
“Easier said than done, but I’ll do my best,” Remington responded. Jet hung up the phone and turned back to Lilly. The two vanished in a flash of dark blue light.
*~*~*~*~*
The healing wing of the Pearl Castle was set up for comfort, as were most areas in the enormous castle. There were rarely patients in the healing wing, since the Meadows was the perfect environment. Guardians never got sick and there were not many dangers in their world that posed a serious risk.
There were numerous beds with clean sheets and a pillow at the head of each one. A large curtain wrapped around each bed, providing the patient with a measure of privacy. Various messengers and apprentices milled about the room, most of them passing the time reading books of all shapes and sizes. It was their job to keep the wing immaculate and care for the few patients they had, which wasn’t a difficult job.
Lilly and Jet entered the peaceful room and were greeted with the sounds of a hushed argument. They exchanged a look as they moved down the row of beds until they reached the center of the room. Steve stood across the bed from Amethyst, who looked irritated. Her strawberry blonde hair was done up in a neat bun and she was wearing a silky violet dress, which matched her eyes and nails. Aside from watching over the gemstone for which she was named, Amethyst was the head healer in the Meadows. She had been born with a unique gift to mend hurt. Most guardians had some healing capabilities, but Amethyst was one of the greatest healers the Meadows had ever seen.
“Lie down,” she commanded. Her voice was so stern that Jet almost obeyed the order. He glanced over his shoulder when a messenger passed behind him. They were obviously giving the guardian and the young protector as much space as possible in the hopes of avoiding the argument.
“No,” Steve replied just as resolutely and Lilly stared at him, surprised by his defiance. They had known Steve for a long time as he came from a long line of protectors. He was extremely loyal to the guardians and had been brought up to treat them as respected elders. Neither protector leader had ever heard him actually refuse an order before.
“Steve?” Jet spoke, interrupting the argument. Steve turned to him and Amethyst threw up her hands in defeat.
“He’s your problem now,” Amethyst grumbled as she passed by. “My recommendation is that he rest for at least a couple hours, but what do I know? I’ve only been a healer for centuries, longer than any of you have been alive.”
Jet watched Amethyst leave. She was one of the oldest guardians in the Meadows and wasn’t the most approachable, but she was good at her job. Jet turned his eyes back to Steve and could only wonder what kind of quarrel he had missed. Steve was paler than normal, but otherwise looked fine.
“Blackjack was waiting for me in my apartment,” Steve explained, reading the question on Jet’s face. “The bastard stabbed me in the back when I was closing my door. We have to get back, figure out how to track him down before he does any real damage.”
“Steve, I really think you should lie down for a bit,” Jet said. “Amethyst said—”
“I know what she said,” Steve snapped, shifting his weight a little. Jet didn’t miss the small grimace that passed across the younger protector’s face. The guardians were able to heal a lot of damage, but more severe wounds would ache for a couple days afterward.
“Do you know what he was after?” Lilly asked. Steve turned his attention to her and rubbed his arm, fidgeting a little. Both protector leaders could see he didn’t like being kept in the Meadows.
“Well, he asked me where the guardian’s daughter was,” he replied, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m guessing he meant Isis, since she’s the only daughter of a guardian in the immediate area. Nemesis showed up before he could finish me off.”
It wasn’t the first time Jet had been grateful for the protection spell that Adonia had placed on the apartment building when Isis first moved in. It alerted Nemesis, one of the guardian warriors, if there was a supernatural threat on the premises. There was no doubt in his mind that it was the only reason Steve had survived. I guess the question is why the spell apparently protects Steve but not Isis, Jet thought.
“Can we talk about this later, please? I’ve got a really bad feeling,” Steve said as he shifted his weight, glancing around at the tan brick walls. “You know how trouble seems to find Isis wherever she goes.”
Jet rubbed his bottom lip, wondering if Blackjack was truly after just Isis. Aside from being the daughter of a guardian, he couldn’t really think of much else that would make her so valuable.
She was a beginner, still learning the ropes. It felt like there was a big part of the picture they were missing.
“You don’t have to worry, Isis is at the mansion,” Lilly reassured the anxious young protector. Jet almost cringed when he heard his cell phone beep. He took it out of his pocket, turned away, and looked at the screen. Isis went on an errand and Shae wants to know if Steve is okay. –Remington
Jet pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Passion’s daughter was going to be the death of him. There was a soft shuffling of feet as another messenger in a pale dress moved past them.
“Jet?” Lilly asked, running her hand up his arm.
“What?” Steve asked, craning his neck as he tried to see his phone. “What is it?”
Jet switched it off, slipped it back into his pocket, and shook his head. “It’s nothing. Lie down and rest.”
“Isis left the mansion, didn’t she?” Steve asked, though his tone indicated that he already knew the answer.
“No,” Jet lied before turning to Lilly. “Will you stay with him for a while and make sure he follows Amethyst’s orders? I have to go back home and take care of something.”
Lilly smiled a little, but he could see the worry in her sapphire eyes, and nodded her golden head once. Jet kissed her hand and then took a few steps back, disappearing again in a pillar of dark blue light.
*~*~*~*~*
By the time Isis reached her apartment, night was already falling. She had been worried about being followed since this was something she wanted to do alone. Stopping at Steve’s door, Isis briefly considered knocking before changing her mind and continuing on to the stairway. When she finally reached her own hallway, Isis was shocked to find she actually missed the place. She never thought it would be possible to miss an apartment building, especially since she always complained about how suffocating it was with all the other people who lived there. I’m going soft in my old age, she thought with a quiet laugh.
Isis reached her door and took out her keys, twisting open all the locks. She closed the door behind her, glancing up. The hinges didn’t squeak anymore, but whoever replaced the door hadn’t included a chain lock. She twisted the deadbolt, not pleased that it was the only lock.
Turning, Isis strode through her mostly empty apartment. She had already packed her things with Jade and Shae’s help and moved most of it to her room in the mansion. But there was one thing she had purposely left behind, something she didn’t want anyone else to know about. Isis switched on the lights and moved to the small hall leading to her bedroom.
Once she was in the bedroom, Isis moved straight for the closet. She opened the door, switched on the light, and knelt on the ground. Easily finding the two loose floorboards, she pried them up. Inside, she had stuffed the flashdrive containing the pictures of the warehouse where the body had been, as well as a notebook of her theories. She hadn’t decided yet what to do with them, but whatever she did, Isis wanted to do it alone. A faint stirring of curiosity told her that she wasn’t done investigating the matter yet.
The sound of a familiar melody drifted in from the main room, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. Isis stuffed the notebook in her bag and the flashdrive into the pocket of her jeans before moving toward the main room. She recognized the CD: Desire by Bob Dylan. Steve had given it to her a while back. The track playing was Isis. She swallowed as she reached the entrance of the main room.
It was empty, which made her very uneasy. Isis walked over to the stereo system, keeping her guard up. She reached for the controls when the system suddenly shut off. Isis dropped her arm and noticed a lamp flicker on in the kitchen. Turning her head, Isis saw a strange man sitting at her kitchen table. He smiled and waved the remote to the stereo system. A large gun with a cylindrical suppressor screwed in the muzzle lay on the table in front of him. Well shit, Isis thought as she tried to figure out what to do.
The man wore a greenish brown leather trench coat with a dark hoodie beneath it. His hair was short and dark. Rubbing his large hands together, his cold gray eyes fixed on her, like a snake that had spotted a mouse.
“You’ve got quite eclectic taste in music,” he observed as he put the stereo remote down on the table, near the gun. Isis didn’t respond. Even sitting, she could see the man had a very solid build, so it would probably be impossible to knock him over. Glancing down to the gun, the man’s fingers touched the weapon in an almost gentle caress.
“Do you know who I am, child?” he asked.
“An intruder, who is also an incredibly condescending asshole,” Isis replied with a shrug. “That’s all I really need to know.”
He smirked, his eyes remaining on the gun. “Hmm, bit of an arrogant attitude, quite an ill-advised trait. I am — or was depending on what you believe — a friend of your father’s. You know of him, right? Roan?”
Isis didn’t respond, trying to figure out if she could possibly make it to the door before he could fire the gun. The approaching night had coated her apartment in shadows, which might provide decent cover. Except he’s probably not human, Isis realized. The intruder had the upper hand when it came to weapons. He had a gun and she had a baton. The odds were not in her favor. The man stood, grabbing the gun but didn’t point it at her, obviously not done toying with her. Isis took a cautious step back.
“You should know I don’t put much stock in biological relations or the importance placed on genetics, so you can stop trying with that bullshit,” Isis mentioned.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of me as well, but I’ll introduce myself anyway,” the man continued, ignoring her. “I’m known as Blackjack and you have something that my employer wants.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the lamp went out and the apartment was plunged into darkness. Isis didn’t question her luck and dove to the ground. A single muffled shot rang out, shattering the lamp just above her. She covered her head as sharp bits of plaster and glass rained down on her. Thinking quickly, Isis started crawling, ignoring the few cuts she got from the shards that now decorated the floor. Pressing her back against the couch, she turned her face to the side and tried to keep track of where he was. Should have borrowed a sword or staff or some kind of weapon from the mansion, she thought, kicking herself for not thinking to do so.
“Oh Isis,” Blackjack sang, sounding too close for comfort. “You can’t hide forever. I can see just as well in the dark as you and this isn’t the biggest area I’ve ever had to cover. Come out now and I won’t torture you. You have my word.”
Isis controlled her breathing as she glanced around, noticing the baseball bat nearby. Something heavy fell in the kitchen, drawing both Blackjack’s and Isis’ attention.
“Oh, you’re a quick one, aren’t you?” Blackjack stated with sadistic amusement, making his way toward the noise and away from her. “You probably get that from your fa—”
The sound of something solid hitting flesh made Isis cringe. For a moment, she flashbacked to the night she had almost been strangled in her kitchen and a tremor went through her. Isis shook her head and lunged for the bat, knowing it was her only hope.
Just when her fingers brushed against the smooth wood, Isis was physically lifted to her feet. She struggled against the strong grip, scratching and punching at whomever gripped her. If she was going to die, Isis was at least going to leave her killer with a few scars.
“Stop, stop,” a smoky voice whispered. His breath smelled faintly of nicotine. Isis went rigid, remembering the voice from the museum ball.
“You!” Isis exclaimed. “Where’s the flashdrive!?”
“Really? That’s what you’re concerned about right now?” The shadowy figure let out a tired sigh. “Just get out of here before you get yourself killed. He won’t be out for long.”
Isis thought about it for a moment before deciding to take his suggestion. She wasn’t a fool: either the man was telling the truth or he was on the assassin’s side, in which case she had two enemies to be concerned about. Isis ran
out of her apartment, surprised that he didn’t try to stop her. The building became a blur as she ran down the stairs and flew out the exit. The cool night breezes felt nice on her face once she was outside.
The sound of squealing tires drew her attention to the right. A small blue car sped around the corner and pulled to a sharp stop in front of her, smoke sliding out from under the tires. The passenger door was pushed open and Isis stared at the driver.
“Get in,” Coop ordered.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The small car tore down a quiet road in the dead of night, going well over the speed limit. The driver was flawless in his handling of the car as he continued down the rarely used road. The stars twinkled in the clear sky. A thin filmy gray mist lazily drifted around the road, creating an eerie atmosphere. The trees rustled quietly, nocturnal creatures roamed about the ground unseen.
“Where are we going?” Isis asked, her hand resting on the pocket that held her baton. She was waiting for the right moment to strike.
Coop glanced in the rearview mirror. “Back to the mansion. It is a longer route, but a safer one. It’s near impossible to tail someone down these roads — too easy to get turned around and lost.”
“Who the hell are you?” Isis snapped, bringing Coop’s attention to her. He looked back to the road, steering the wheel a little to the left. He glanced at her again and Isis stared at him, wondering what his deal was.
“You have a very expressive face,” Coop mentioned and Isis stared at him, astounded. She blinked a couple times, closed her eyes and opened her mouth as she tried to figure out how to respond.
“What?” she squeaked.
“Your face . . . it’s expressive,” Coop tried again, sounding very uncomfortable. I think that’s an attempt at a compliment, Isis thought.
“Well, you can’t have it!”
Coop frowned and turned his eyes back to her. “I know that. Why do you think I’d want to mutilate you?”
Sere from the Green (The Shape Shifter Chronicles Book 1) Page 23