“I can give you a ride home,” he offered.
I’m not sure why I didn’t accept. Who was I fooling, I knew why. I’d been lucky, he hadn’t sensed the magic. But the more I was around him, the greater the chances of it being discovered. I couldn’t let my guard down around him.
Kalen nearly crushed me when he hugged me. He was wiry, but stronger than most people. “How did you get in this mess?” he asked as I dropped into the seat of his Audi.
“I have no idea, but when I find out who did this to me, I’m going to rip out something they are really going to miss.” But I didn’t know where to start.
I didn’t mind telling Kalen what had happened, but he seemed strangely intrigued by the Haven and Harrah. She was an enigma, loathed and loved. If the supernaturals had a reality princess, she was it. The gentle face of the supernatural world that they traipsed out in front of the cameras to remind humans that magic was innocuous and nothing like that used during the Cleanse, although we all knew that magic had a dark side that was often regulated by laws.
By the time he’d dropped me off he had heard everything, including what Jonathan had done to me.
Responding to the anger in my voice he said, “Levy, sometimes you have to let things go, including finding out what happened. Let the Guild handle this. Someone who is strong enough to wipe away your memories isn’t someone you want to go after alone.” He was more than urging me. It was a brotherly order.
“But why me? Aren’t you curious?”
“Not enough to risk your life,” he said. This wasn’t just a simple urging—he was laying on the guilt trip and “no” wasn’t an option.
When he drove up to the house, I tried to get out before he coerced a promise out of me. As the car rolled to a stop, I jumped out and waved as I ran up to the door of our apartment. I didn’t think about the hard look I knew he was giving my back as I searched for my keys. And when I opened the door I waved at him again, quickly entered, and closed the door behind me. Resting my head against the door, I looked up to find Savannah sitting at the kitchen table with cupcakes. Real cupcakes—chocolate—and not the low-fat crap that was sweetened with applesauce and contained some unholy version of unsweetened fake milk that she usually tried to shove down my pie hole. I could smell the sugar, chocolate, and delicious full-fat ingredients as soon as I was in reach. Yep, delicious empty calorie goodness that’s going to take at least a ten-mile run to burn off. But I didn’t care, and although her lips wavered a little into a disapproving smile, I scoffed down one and started working on another before I took a seat.
“So everything’s over, right?”
I spoke between bites. “I’m no longer a suspect in three murders. But there’s still someone out there stealing magic who wanted me to take the blame for it. No, it’s not over. I need to find out who is behind this and why.”
Although she didn’t voice her objection, her frown deepened and she pressed her lips into a thin line. Between her disapproval and Kalen’s concern I was going to feel guilty pursuing this, but I had to. Something was gnawing at me about this situation. It seemed like there was more to it—much more.
We talked for hours as she questioned me about everything from what happened to the clothes that I wore while at the Haven. We continued to talk, with her rehashing stories about her job and family that I’d heard a thousand times before. She would’ve done anything to keep me under her watchful eye. The oldest of three children, she had protective instincts working in overdrive. As far as she was concerned, she went to sleep and I went to jail, and in her crazy mind they were somehow connected. I wasn’t going back to jail or the Haven on her watch.
The questioning and talking would have gone on all day, but by the evening, I pulled out a bottle of wine. She declined until I coerced her into having a celebratory drink with me. A glass and a half later, she was in a white wine-induced slumber. I hated doing it, but I knew I would never get out of her sight and I had work that needed to be done.
For a while the guilt ate at me as I watched my friend sprawled out on the sofa.
CHAPTER 7
Once I was convinced Savannah was going to stay asleep on the sofa, I grabbed the twins and put them in their sheath and headed out the door to investigate the scene of the crime I was charged with.
The park was empty and dark as I suspected it would be at four in the morning, but the streetlights and my flashlight provided enough illumination. I took a few steps toward the scene of the crime. Although I suspected all evidence of murder had long been cleared away, I hoped something might have been missed. I looked around the dark area; billowy trees surrounded the park, the lights cast an ambient glow over the benches, and I could hear the sound of crepuscular animals off at a distance.
I knelt down near the area, where they found me, and for a few minutes debated if I should try a reenactment spell, but quickly decided against it. I was desperate, but not desperate enough to try something so powerful out in the open. My decision was only confirmed when I heard the light steps behind me, skilled, lithe movements approaching. One from my right, the other from my left. I gripped my sai, and when the intruders were within striking distance, I spun my arms and shot out the blades, just inches from their throats.
The streetlights cast an unappealing shadow over their features. They might have been soft in their movements, giving the illusion that they were professionals at this, but they weren’t. People who had their share of brushes with death didn’t blanch like they did. They were dressed in twin spy gear, dark jeans and black t-shirts that clung to their broad defined physiques from an excessive amount of time in the gym. But it wasn’t just to weight lift—they moved with a fighter’s refinement, definitely light and skillfully trained to move and disable, but I doubted they used the skill often. Poster guys for every spy movie I’d seen. Mused hair, just enough to let you know they weren’t stereotypical pretty boys. Faces stern, but not cruel. Each was ready to shift from good cop to bad cop at a moment’s notice. Tall Spy Guy spoke first as he stepped back just a few inches before he moved my hand away. The shorter Spy Guy seemed too afraid to respond. I dropped the sai to my side and took several steps back, maintaining my defensive stance and ready to engage if necessary.
“You’re dangerous with those,” he said, smiling. Maybe I was wrong about him. Danger didn’t bother him, but his shorter counterpart still looked like he was going to lose his dinner and perhaps everything he’d eaten in the past week.
“Aren’t most people with sharp things?”
He smiled, so crooked and wayward that I’m sure in any other situation he would have had me blushing. “Not necessarily. If you don’t know what you’re doing, then it’s just entertaining to watch.”
“I’m Clive.” He extended his hand, exuding more confidence than I’d have expected from a person who was weaponless.
Clive. Of course, that’s probably number five on the list of acceptable spy dude names. I stared at his hand. “I’m a member of Humans First,” he said proudly.
This guy is a walking cliché.
I relaxed. There wasn’t going to be any violence, just a bunch of talking and schmoozing. They would give me their spiel about the human race being special little snowflakes that needed to be protected from not only the things that went bump in the night, but those that managed to do it in the daytime, too. His face settled with interest and amber eyes displayed cautious curiosity.
“How did you do it?”
“Do what? Almost stab you with the twins?”
“Twins?” His response was laced with innuendo.
Leave it to a guy.
I lifted the sai, keeping a grip on them, and made a show of whirling them in a little circle before sheathing them at my hip.
“No, how did you kill the mage, fae, and shifter?”
I stared at him for a moment. Is he kidding me with this? “I’m innocent, you know.”
There was a devious undercurrent to his words as he gave me a roguish smile
that brightened his eyes and said, “We are all innocent until someone can prove we aren’t.”
I frowned at the insinuation, and my hand twitched with the need for violence. I may have underestimated him.
“Well, I am innocent, and I plan to make the person who did this to me pay,” I said.
“Let’s assume that you are innocent, but you’ve learned how to manage the supernaturals using their powers against them. Is it something you can teach us, or do you have a magical object that can do it? I’ve heard the rumors of these things existing.”
HF thought I was guilty and was ready to recruit me for their legion of misguided humans ready to take back their city. “A magical object with the ability to remove magic from someone without the user having magic is a rumor. No such thing exists.” If it did, I didn’t know about it, and I really wanted to squash any hope that one did. They were the last people who needed to have access to something like that.
“And I can assure you that if anyone suspected I was guilty I wouldn’t be here having this very uncomfortable conversation with you and this guy,”—I jerked my head to the nervous Spy Guy—“giving me, what I assume, is his menacing glare.” Turning my attention to him I said, “You should work on that. Cross your arms. Then draw the frown in a little more and suck in the cheeks. Dimples aren’t menacing. Your brows are thick enough, bring them together a little. Give me a seethe, like a fire-breathing dragon. Try my little suggestions …”
Before I could finish, he had done them all. Eyes closed slightly to form little slits, breath forced through clenched teeth, muscles pulled taut around the neck. I knew he could do it.
“Yeah, like that,” I said when his glare intensified.
I returned my attention back to Clive, who seemed very amused. “Thanks, Clive, but I’m not interested. Seriously, if anyone thought I was guilty, do you really think I would be here?”
“Yes, we lobbied quite aggressively for your release. We wanted you in our court system, not theirs.”
“How kind, but it didn’t work,” I pointed out. I really needed this conversation to end and in no certain terms let him know I wasn’t interested. If they thought I was guilty, I’m sure people in the supernatural community did as well. The last thing I needed was to be seen with them. “I’m not interested, so I suggest you don’t waste any more of your time, or others’, contacting me again. It’s a no—infinity. Does that count? So if you’re hanging out at a meeting and think ‘Hey, let’s ask that Levy woman to join’, remember I said ‘infinity’ and dismiss the idea. Okay?”
I smiled, trying to temper my words, although I really just wanted to tell him to screw off and stop bugging me, but apparently—as Kalen had pointed out several times—people considered that rude.
I turned my back on purpose and started to survey the area, mostly to demonstrate my disinterest, but I also needed to see the type of person I was dealing with. I glanced over my shoulder. He was still there, and I didn’t think he was going to attack, but he seemed like the type who wouldn’t mind plunging a knife in if given the opportunity. That made him very dangerous. I took the opportunity to make sure there weren’t any more HF members skulking around. Off to the right, I saw the yellow glow of animal eyes lurking from behind a large group of trees. When it caught my eyes it receded back. Shifter—dammit. That’s not good—not good at all.
“Whether you did it or not, there is something about you that has made HF take notice. We want you on our team.”
“Well, if you guys were any good at your job you would know I don’t play well with others. I think I was quite nice with declining. Now you’re just being a pushy salesman. I’m not interested. To be honest. I like the way things are, so I’m not trying to change it. And just for the record, ‘Humans First’ sounds like a bank. Just weird and kind of corny. You might as well have called yourself the Justice League.” I grinned and playfully looked around. “Where’s the archery guy?”
“That’s the Avengers,” short Spy Guy offered, taking a break from glaring and seething. His face flushed with irritation.
“Oh, I always get them mixed up. But one point for you knowing your superhero franchise. Good for you.” I grinned. They stood firm without any plans of leaving.
I sighed. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Clive wasn’t going away, and the other Spy Guy had perfected his glare and menacing look and was laying it on a little heavy. I started to walk away, maybe that might drill it in that I wasn’t interested. I had gotten about three feet away.
“Either you are with us or against us,” Clive said, his voice edged and cool. I turned, and his look had changed. The genteel mask that swathed his features had been replaced with something ominous, dark and cruel. It might have worked on someone else, but once you’ve been through what I had, there weren’t a lot of things that provoked fear—especially a look from a Spy Guy in a group with a goofy name.
Although his features relaxed, his crossed arms made his biceps stand out, exposing the delineation of well-developed muscles and a tattoo that I couldn’t quite make out.
I chuckled, light and whimsical. “When you make a threat like that, shouldn’t you be stroking a cat and laughing maniacally?”
His deep roaring laugh filled the air and his arms relaxed at his side. “I think this conversation went south fast. Accept my apologies. Think about it, and if you have any questions call me.” He approached me and handed me his card. The genteel and placid smile reemerged as quickly as it had disappeared. Clive was a situational chameleon. He was neither good cop nor bad cop, but whoever he needed to be to get the results he needed. That not only made him dangerous, it made him untrustworthy.
My smile matched his and was probably just as insincere. “Of course. Thank you.”
And I walked away scanning the area trying to take it in as quickly as I could to try to pick up on anything I had missed. Except for the slight tint of blood on the grass, there wasn’t anything I hadn’t caught when I arrived. There wasn’t anything there. Even the dense web of magic that clung to the air the night I was picked up was gone. It wasn’t as though I expected it to be there, but it was magic that I wasn’t familiar with and hadn’t been exposed to before.
CHAPTER 8
I pushed my way through the door with my shoulders, two coffees in hand. Kalen leaned against my desk waiting impatiently for his morning fix. But before he could take his coffee, a caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, from my hand, he turned his nose up at me as he gave me one disdainful sweeping look. It didn’t look like we worked in the same place. Dressed in a pair of tailored slacks, he sported a sleek tan button-down rolled up at the sleeves, a couple of buttons undone. A brown jacket lay over my chair, next to a large box, I assumed an estate find. Those were the worst. People were just lazy. They would just shove in a bunch of things that they had no idea what they were and sell the box. We’d become the go-to company for it and sometimes it was profitable, but most of the time it was us wading through a bunch of things that had little to no value.
The frown deepened and he gave me another sweeping look. Trailing over my jeans, that were fading a little and my red and black plaid shirt. His gaze went down to the Converse sneakers and then it shot up to the loose bun on top of my head. He rolled his eyes away, and then his finger shot up.
“If you change my outfit, the coffee goes in the trash,” I hissed, hovering his fix over the can.
“Okay, miss,” he said in the low, calm voice that negotiators use on television shows. “No drinks have to get hurt. Put it down on the table and step away. No one has to get hurt, no beverages have to die.”
I pushed the cup toward him. He took a long drink from it. “I didn’t think you would be in today.”
“Why?” I asked, peeking into the box. It looked a little more interesting than most, and I was in a hurry to get through it because there was a subtle hint of magic. It couldn’t be anything really powerful because I didn’t feel it until I was right on th
e box.
“I figured you needed some time.”
I needed to work. Kalen paid me better than what I could make anywhere else, but it wasn’t enough that I could afford to take time off “just because.”
“No. The more time I spend idle, the more frustrated I get.”
“The murders?”
I nodded. “I don’t know how I got there. I can remember everything except the time between me getting in my bed the night of the vampire attack and waking up next to the dead bodies. Who has the ability to do that? And why did they pick me? Was it just random?”
I didn’t have enemies—not that I knew of—and I made it my life goal to lie low. So why would someone want to pin murders on me?
His mouth twisted to the side as he looked down at his coffee. “It happened again last night, but this time it was a fae, mage, shifter, and witch.”
My heart skipped. On the day I was released. This was bad. Really bad. It only got worse when the office phone rang.
I grabbed it, softened my voice to saccharine sweet, shifting into receptionist mode. “Hello, Kalen’s Collectibles. How may I help you?” I forced my eyes not to roll at the cutesy name.
The person started to speak, but stopped, getting out only, “Olivia Michaels?”
“Yes.”
“This is Gareth; I need to you to come to the Supernatural Guild office at eleven.” And then he hung up.
I groaned when I looked at the clock on my phone: it was a little past nine. The Guild’s office was nearly a half an hour away, and as usual my car had decided it needed another day off. Taking a cab would be expensive, and public transportation would be a pain in the butt. I considered calling him and telling him that I couldn’t do it. After all, if it were in regards to the incident last night, he would have arrested me or brought me in for questioning. Right? But maybe this was him playing nice, and if I didn’t come in then it would be the equivalent of me being guilty.
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