Lockhart's Confirmation (Vespari Lockhart Book 2)

by J. Stone

  “Come on,” he said. “I like it as rough as anyone, but is the gun really all that necessary?”

  For once, Wynonna felt flustered. Usually, she was the one making those kinds of comments, but this young man had her beat in aggressive flirting. Seeing he clearly didn’t present her a threat, the vespari pulled the revolver back and slid it into her holster. She then stood up and moved off him.

  “Thanks,” he told her, standing up and rubbing the spot where the gun had been. “But, I preferred you straddled over the top of me.”

  Wynonna still didn’t know what to think of this young man. “My medallion,” she told him. “I want it back.”

  Leaning down and picking up his newsboy cap, PJ slapped it over his messy blonde hair and nodded. “Anything for you, darling, but you gotta tell me your name.”

  The vespari paused a moment, looking him over. His affection was starting to soften her disposition and win her over. “Wynonna,” she eventually replied.

  PJ bowed. “Please forgive me, Wynonna. I knew not what a beauty I was stealing from.”

  He stayed leaning over until she finally said, “Fine, fine. I forgive you.”

  When he rose, he held the seven-sided medallion in his hand. Now, however, it had a long chain looped through it instead of the little hook it previously had.

  “You should wear it on your neck,” he told her, handing it over to her. “Thieves are less likely to be drawn to it there.”

  “I didn’t even see where you got that from,” she said, taking the medallion. “You’re pretty quick with your hands.”

  PJ grinned. “If you like that, you should see what I can do with my fingers.”

  Wynonna rolled her eyes and clasped the chain around her neck. As she adjusted it, the medallion fell and situated itself against her chest, just between her breasts, as if that was where this seven-pointed star with a crescent moon etched into it had always meant to go.

  “So, you’re a vespari?” the pickpocket asked. “I didn’t realize what I’d taken until it was too late.”

  “I am.”

  “I wouldn’t want to get on a vespari’s bad side.”

  She shrugged. “You gave the medallion back. It’s fine.”

  He smiled. “So, you’re not going to punish me?”

  Wynonna shook her head, already knowing where his mind headed. “No.”

  “Not even a little?”

  She was having a hard time resisting the young man’s advances. She was having a harder time coming up with a reason why she should. Rubbing one of her temples and giving into her curiosity, she asked, “Okay, I need to know. How old are you?”

  “I’m nineteen,” he told her.

  “Nineteen?” Wynonna repeated. “Man, I got more than ten years on you.”

  He shrugged. “What’s that matter?”

  “Well,” she replied, a smile curling at the corner of her lip. “It’s just that I feel a little guilty is all.”

  “Guilty? Why’s that?”

  “I’m just having a pretty hard time not fantasizing about seeing you naked is all.”

  PJ’s eyes widened, and he laughed, shaking his head side to side. “Well, would it make you feel any better if I was doing the same thing to you?”

  She laughed too. “You have no idea how good that makes me feel.”

  PJ smiled at her. “Well, then you should start feeling really good, because this whole cowboy thing you got going works for me.”

  “Obviously,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

  “Good. I don’t do subtle. Speaking of not subtle, I say we go somewhere and explore this whole naked thing we’re both wondering about.”

  “You don’t really hold back, do you?”

  PJ made a faux frown. “Why would I? Life is too short for reservations. I say what’s on my mind, and getting you out of those clothes is just about all I can think of right now.”

  “So, I’m distracting you is what you’re saying?”

  The young man nodded. “Extremely, which is why we should just find a nice room somewhere and reserve ourselves to our fate of tearing each other’s clothes off.”

  Wynonna wanted nothing more than to do exactly that, but she’d made a commitment. She had to find Rohan and deal with him. She had to handle the challenge the vespari elders had given her. She had to receive her confirmation, and she didn’t have time to linger with this pickpocket, no matter how attracted to him she was. PJ, meanwhile, just continued to smile at her, only making matters worse.

  Forcing herself to say it, Wynonna eventually replied, “I’d love to, but unfortunately, I can’t follow through on all the things I want to do to you right now.”

  “Now, that is unfortunate, cause there’s a long list of things I’d be prepared to do to you in return.”

  Wynonna had to bite her lip and take a heavy breath. “To be continued, PJ, the pickpocket,” she said, turning around. Twisting her head part way around, she called, “Next time, let’s see if we can do this whole exchange while forgoing the use of clothes, huh?”

  “I will hold you to that, Wynonna, the vespari!”

  Continuing to shake her head and wishing she could stay there with him, Wynonna left the young man and returned to her search for the oathbreaker.

  ***

  The elder’s information about Rohan was enough to get her in the vicinity, though she still had some legwork to do before finding him. She located the astrological clock that Nicolae had mentioned, but she didn’t exactly understand what it was either. All the same, it looked intricately crafted, and the clock was quite beautiful even if she didn’t know what it was for or how it worked.

  A large circle set into the wall of the building in which the astrological clock was situated, unfamiliar designs etched into the very edges where the arrows could point. There was another circle, however, placed inside the larger one and apparently rotating around the interior similarly to the arrows but at a slower pace. Whoever had built this device had used crystal clear blue glass for the clock’s face and a gleaming gold for the majority of the metal components. For whatever reason, staring at this elaborate device made her feel small and almost insignificant in comparison.

  All the same, the astrological clock gave her a place to start. Using the sketch Spencer gave her, Wynonna showed Rohan’s image to a few people walking around in the area, trying to nail down exactly where the oathbreaker was. Most of them just shrugged when she showed them the picture, and she started to wonder where the elders had got their information that he was there. Her paranoia, fueled by what Spencer told her about the challenges being more difficult because of who she was, made her wonder if the whole thing was just a way to get rid of her. If she never found him, they wouldn’t have to concern themselves with her confirmation.

  After a few hours without a lead or any sight of her target, Wynonna considered giving up. The sun had dipped down below the buildings, and only the electrified lights and oil lamps still illuminated the streets. Wandering down a side street she hadn’t yet traveled, however, the vespari spotted the Blue Brick Tavern and Inn, clearly named for the oddly colored materials used in its construction. Passing by, she could hear sounds that reminded her of the saloons back in the desert. The familiar smell of alcohol wafted out as well, tempting her to head inside.

  If she had any money left from her journey, she would’ve indeed stopped in for a drink. As she had nothing, she nearly walked on past it. Stopping just outside the door, however, she spotted a sign in their window advertising reasonable rates for long-term patrons. Realizing that Rohan could’ve got a room in the area, she decided to stop in and show the staff the oathbreaker’s sketch.

  Walking in after a pair of older men, Wynonna stood in the entryway for a minute, getting a view of the tavern. Flickering candles set on the various tables throughout the room, coloring the stone masonry a warm red color that shifted to almost purple on the blue bricks, and the fires filled the area
with a smoky atmosphere. The candles were not the only flames in the tavern either, as a fireplace in the back roared along with the others, while a crowd gathered around it.

  Above the fireplace, hung a full body portrait of a crowned individual in fancy purple clothes that the vespari didn’t recognize. Someone of importance in the city? She realized she didn’t really know much about the politics of any of the coastal cities. Out in the desert, such things had never concerned her.

  On either side of the tavern were two separate bar areas, each stocked with their own selection of beverages. Seeing all the different colored bottles, Wynonna absentmindedly licked her lips once again and wished she had enough money to buy a drink.

  As things stood, that wasn’t an option, so the vespari waded through the drunken crowds and moved to one of the two bars. Wynonna leaned against the wood, wet with spilled alcohol, soaking into the grain, and then pushed herself off, not wishing to drench her sleeves more than she already had. After waving the bartender over, the vespari pulled the sketch out of her pocket again.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

  Holding the drawing up for him to see, Wynonna said, “I’m looking for this man. You seen him?”

  For the first time since entering the town square and asking about Rohan, Wynonna saw a flash of recognition in the man’s eyes. He tried to hide it though, and after looking at the sketch, he leaned back and peered at Wynonna.

  “What if I had?” the bartender asked.

  “Then, you tell me. It’s all pretty simple.”

  The bartender crossed his arms at his chest and frowned. “Nothing is free.”

  She should’ve known that finding him would cost her. That didn’t mean she had anything to bargain with however. Being a vespari had to carry some weight though, so she pulled the seven-sided medallion out from under her shirt and showed it to him.

  “This is vespari business,” she told the man.

  He looked her over. “Since when are vespari women? And since when are they poor?”

  Glaring at him, Wynonna ignored the first question and moved onto the second. “I don’t have any silver on me,” she said.

  Based on his unmoving expression, he either didn’t care or didn’t believe her.

  She tried another tack. “Well, what if I offer to do a job for you free of charge?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t need a vespari at the moment.”

  “That may not always be the case though. If you ever find need of a vespari’s services, I’ll help you out. Doesn’t matter what it is. I just need to find this guy before he goes anywhere.”

  The bartender stared at her, reflecting on her offer, and then sighed heavily. “Alright,” he said with a nod. “Whatever I need. No questions asked. That right?”

  “Right.”

  “Your man’s upstairs. Room number four. Think he’s in there now too.”

  “Thanks,” she replied, starting to turn away from the bar.

  “Hey!” he called after her, causing her to stop and turn around. “What’s your name?”

  “Wynonna Lockhart. Hopefully, when this is over you can find me at the Black Tea Tower.”

  The bartender nodded. “Count on it.”

  Having what she needed from him. Wynonna made her way through the tavern’s patrons once again and found the stairs leading to the inn on the second level. Ascending the steps, everything suddenly became real for the vespari. The elders had sent her to murder a man. When she had simply concerned herself for finding him, she could focus on that aspect, but now there was nothing left but the task itself. She had to put a bullet in a living man all in an effort to receive acceptance as one of the vespari.

  This proved a difficult concept for her to wrap her head around. It all seemed wrong, and Wynonna felt her heart beat quicker inside her chest. Her palms started to sweat, and she had to brush them against her oversized duster to dry them off. Her breaths increased in frequency, as she arrived at the top step and started down the hallway, inspecting the room numbers she passed. Paranoia about her footsteps alerting him gripped her, and she paid unnecessary attention to each step she took on those creaky floorboards. By the time she arrived at the room marked with the number four in peeling black paint, Wynonna felt like a nervous wreck, her whole body tingling with an electric sensation.

  Steeling herself and taking a heavy breath, the vespari raised her hand and rapped her knuckles against the wood of the door. Inside, she heard the skid of chair legs against the floor followed by footsteps. He was coming. Wynonna wrapped her fingers around the grip of her revolver and pulled the weapon out, holding it at her side. The locks slid aside, and the knob turned before the door finally swung away from her, revealing the room’s occupant with a cloud of cigarette smoke.

  Rohan had aged and wore down over the time since Spencer drew that sketch, but it was him. He had long blonde hair, which he still wore tied back behind his head. His beard, however, was more unkempt, wild, and scraggly. He raised a cigarette to his lips and sucked in, releasing a puff of smoke as he dropped his hand once more. He wore a shirt with horizontal stripes of blue and white, tucked into dark blue pants, which a pair of brown suspenders held in place.

  The oathbreaker looked into her eyes and gave her a smirk. They then dropped down slowly, examining her body. The smile disappeared when his eyes finally caught sight of the revolver gripped in her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Wynonna said, lifting her gun.

  Rohan had good instincts though, and he was quick. Before her revolver was in a position to fire, he pushed her hand aside, knocking it into the wood of the doorframe and causing her to drop the gun. She wasn’t going to let that stop her. She still had the boon that the gargoyle had granted her. That meant no matter how quick Rohan was, she was stronger.

  With her other hand, Wynonna reared back and socked him in the face. Rohan stumbled away, while she dropped to pick up her gun. Just as she grabbed it though, Rohan rammed her, bashing her into the wall at her back and causing her to release her revolver as he knocked the air from her chest. She brought her knee up into his ribs, managing to push him off her. Wynonna followed it up with another punch, this time with her dominant hand. The hit sent Rohan spiraling back into his room. With every intention of getting her gun back, she followed him inside.

  There, Wynonna and Rohan fought back and forth, neither gaining a clear advantage, but after a while, things started to shift. Wynonna stopped trying to hurt him. She didn’t want to kill him no matter what it meant. If this was what she had to do to be a vespari, she wasn’t interested. Having the elders use her to clean up their messes wasn’t how she thought any of it would go. She was angry, irritated, and frustrated beyond all measure. She needed some way to channel her emotions and fighting wasn’t doing it.

  Continuing to tussle with him through the room, she found herself on top of him and raising a hand for another punch, but she stopped herself. Instead, Wynonna grimaced and then nearly slammed her own face into his. She bit his lip and kissed him, tasting the ash of his cigarettes. Realizing her sudden change of heart, he released his grip on her, while her hands moved to other purposes. She grabbed and pulled his shirt toward her, popping the buttons off. One article of clothing dealt with, her hands drifted lower. Wynonna scooted back, and she started to remove his pants, just as he sat up and began unbuttoning her shirt.

  “What just happened?” he asked through strained breaths. “Weren’t we fighting a minute ago?”

  “Shut up,” she told him, reaching back and closing the door. “Don’t ruin this by talking.”

  ***

  Wynonna sat across from Rohan, leaning against the bed’s backboard, while he lay on his back, his head at the opposite end of the bed, looking up at her and puffing on a fresh cigarette, letting the smoke roll out past his lips.

  “Stop staring at my tats,” Wynonna told him, as she breathed in the smoke and facetiously slapped a hand over her bare chest.

  “What can I sa
y?” he replied with a sly smile. “They look better on you than me.”

  She looked down at the tattoos inked across her chest and breasts. “They do have a certain charm to them.”

  “I must say, I never thought I’d see them on breasts, especially ones of such a pristine caliber.”

  “They’re the reason I’m here - the runes, not my breasts.”

  He smiled at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going for my confirmation.”

  Rohan laughed before taking another drag from his cigarette. “That right? So, the elders sent you to kill me, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “Given we’ve already slept together, I figure I should at least know my assassin’s name.”

  “Wynonna,” she told him.

  “Wynonna,” he repeated. “Well, it’s nice to meet a fellow vespari.”

  She shook her head. “It seems neither of us is a vespari. I’m not confirmed, and you’re an oathbreaker.”

  He laughed again. “I’m no oathbreaker.”

  “Guess it doesn’t really matter what you are. They all seem to want you dead.”

  “Well, whatever the case, I’m glad they sent you instead of someone else. This night could’ve turned out drastically different.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Wynonna agreed with a nod. “And, besides, I really needed that.”

  “Glad I could oblige you,” he said with a smirk.

  After a pause, Wynonna couldn’t help but linger on a single question ringing in her head. “So, if you really didn’t break your oath, why do they want you dead?”

  He shook his head. “I told you before. I didn’t break my oath.”

  “Then what? Why would they send me here like this?”

  “I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”

  She shrugged. “What?”

  Rohan looked away for a moment before returning his gaze directly into her eyes. “Things aren’t what they seem within the Vespari Brotherhood.”