The Naughty List

by L. A. Kelley

Liang drew in her breath. She glared at Anthony. “The girl had The Book and you knew? Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you approach alone?”

  “All you’re doing is letting them get farther away. I order you back on the trail.”

  Billy glowered at him. “I don’t take orders from you. David said he didn’t steal The Book. You know what? I believe him. So the question is, who did?”

  “Are you accusing me, hound?”

  “I’m just saying invisibility is a mighty useful skill. Come to think of it,” he growled. “I haven’t seen you around since the theft. Did you hide in Florida all these weeks?”

  “I was on official business.”

  The demon was big, but Billy was bigger. The hellhound got right in his face. “I wonder what The Book says about your business? Is that why you needed to reach the girl first? So you’d find The Book instead of us?”

  Liang eyed the demon with suspicion. “The pack stays until I call HQ and speak to the Odin.”

  Jason chimed up. “I want in on that call.”

  Without a word Anthony vanished.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Liang jeered. “We can find you anywhere.”

  “Really?” His mocking voice floated through the air. “Come and get me.”

  As one, the hellhounds cast about and immediately exchanged stunned looks. Only the demon’s residual scent lingered around the car as if Anthony Pearce blithely stepped off the earth.

  “What the hell?” Jason gasped. “Invisibility can’t cloak a scent. No Integral powers can. The pack always has a trail.”

  “Spread out!” commanded Liang. “He’s here somewhere.”

  The two packs angled back and forth, crisscrossing the area into the woods and then onto the road. Billy cast round the car hunting for any clue to Pearce’s location.

  Liang came up behind him. “Anything?”

  Before he could answer their sharp hearing picked up the snap of a dry twig. Liang bolted into the woods with Billy at her heels.

  “Over here,” she yelled, darting around a tree. “I have him—”

  The shot exploded out of nowhere. Liang crumpled, blood streaming from a wound in her chest. Billy dropped instantly to her side, pressing down with his hand to staunch the flow.

  “Footsteps in the mud…” she gasped out, stunned with disbelief. “He fired… I-I didn’t scent anything.”

  “Don’t try to talk. Over here!” Billy yelled. “Liang is down.” Jason burst through the brush with the other pack members right behind.

  Liang’s face turned ghostly white. “He was right next to me.”

  Jason looked sick. “Don’t try to talk.”

  “I didn’t scent a thing.” Her eyelids fluttered shut.

  Jason ordered the hellhounds to scatter and search again. “Tell me one of you found something?” the pack leader demanded, but only trace remains of the demon’s scent wafted through the clearing.

  Billy’s eyes blazed with a bestial light. “He’s gone.” He stared in stunned silence at Liang’s body. Pearce murdered a pack leader right in front of them and then completely vanished. The best trackers in the world now stood around like lost children with no idea what to do next.

  ****

  Rosalie’s world turned black. The dash-away went on and on and on. Enveloped in a dizzying sensation of falling she had no sense of up or down, right or left. Where were David and The Book? Where was her own body? Rosalie would have screamed, but wasn’t sure she had a mouth anymore.

  Like coming to the knot at the end of a rope, Rosalie abruptly jerked back to reality. With a thump she landed hard on a wooden surface, her breath knocked completely out. She tried to suck in a lungful of air, but breathing was difficult. A heavy weight pressed down on her chest, pinning her motionless. Where the hell was she? Rosalie raised a trembling hand and touched…hair?

  She opened her eyes. The world spun in woozy circles. Blinking several times, she tried again. Her vision cleared. She stared up at a ceiling. The light fixture seemed very familiar. David’s still form rested prostrate on top of her, his face buried in her cleavage.

  “D-David?” she wheezed, struggling to inhale.

  The E.L.F groaned. He raised his head and locked eyes on her bust line. For an instant confusion danced across his face and then he cranked back his neck and peered at her. His befuddled expression cleared as recognition set in. He managed a loopy grin. “Hi.”

  “H-Hi. Can’t breathe.”

  His face flushed. “Sorry.” He rolled off her with a moan, his arms and legs splayed out. “Oh, damn. That hurt.”

  Rosalie pushed herself up to her elbows and gazed around. “We’re in my apartment.” They had landed on the area rug in front of the sofa.

  “HQ is shielded. Thought here is safe. Long trip after all the dash-away I used today especially with passengers.”

  Something hard nestled firmly under her rump. Rosalie wiggled off The Book and then scooted over next to David. His face was pale. “Are you okay?”

  He shot her a weary smile. “I am now. I was worried.”

  “The Book is safe,” she assured him. “I have it right here.”

  “Not about The Book—about you. Don’t know why,” he teased. “I should know by now you never go anywhere without a spray can loaded with something noxious.”

  Rosalie’s heart fluttered. “I worried about you, too.” A moment ago she felt cold, wet, and muddy. Now, none of that mattered. “Your timing, by the way, deserves a prize.”

  The E.L.F. gently touched the cut on her cheek. His voice tightened. “Not good enough. The son of a bitch hurt you.”

  She shrugged. “The scratch will heal, and a rescue is still a rescue.”

  For a moment, neither said a word. David slid his hand from her cheek to the nape of her neck. The room grew suddenly warm. So did Rosalie. She closed her eyes, bent down, and kissed him gently.

  “I really wish,” he whispered with deep regr sithaliet in her ear, “I could feel my lips.”

  She pulled back with a chuckle. “Maybe we should wait until you can move again. We’ll pick up where we left off.”

  “Rosalie Thatcher, count on it.”

  She struggled to her feet. “Can I get you something? You look like hell and I mean that in the nicest possible way. How did you escape? How did you find me?”

  “I could use some water first.”

  “Coming right—” Rosalie gaped with a dazed expression in the corner.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She could only point. The dismembered Christmas tree lay scattered in ruined pieces. Numbly she stepped among the smashed ornaments, surveying the carnage with no doubt of what happened. “H-He broke everything.” She bent down and picked up a few pink plastic shards, all that remained of her snowflake. Quickly, she blinked back a tear.

  David staggered to his feet. “Pearce?”

  “Yes. I discovered he stole The Book.”

  He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Tell me everything.”

  She snuggled into him. “Are you going to fall down?”

  “Probably.”

  She led him to the couch. “Sit. I’ll get you water first.”

  The E.L.F. leaned back against the cushion with one hand clutching a water bottle and the other arm around Rosalie. She filled him in on all that happened.

  “Anthony Pearce.” He spit out the name. “I had a bad feeling once I learned he led the hunt for you. He must have followed me into the vault. I’m sorry, Rosalie. If I suspected he worked at Penrose’s, I’d have confronted him long ago. Well, he won’t get far. Hellhounds will be all over him…” His voice trailed off.

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  “Anthony must have used a shield to block me from sensing The Book. Shields have several uses, but the most common prevent an Integral from using any power. The manacles have shielding built in, too, only…”

  “Only what?”

  “I’ve never heard of any shield
preventing The Book from being located. Nothing should block my connection.” He rubbed his chin. “Pearce found a way. I knew he was an adept, but not that powerful.”

  “What’s an adept?”

  “An Integral who spellcasts. Most of us have only limited abilities, but some like the Baal perform real hard-core magic.” He frowned. “Anthony was one of Dominic’s assistants. By the looks of things, I’d say he was a stellar student.”

  Rosalie stared morosely down at the pieces of the star still clutched in her hand. “The destruction was so pointless. Anthony had me pinned down in that field. If you hadn’t shown up, he would have killed me. I’d never have known he broke in and smashed everything. It’s funny,” her voice trembled, “the snowflake bothers me more than the attempted murder. I guess because it was the last gift from my father.”

  David took the broken ornament from her hand and slipped the pieces into his pocket.

  Rosalie protested. “You can’t fix it.”

  “Who says anything about fixing it? I’ll catch Anthony and ram the pieces up his ass. Then you will hit him with a shot of pepper spray.”

  She snuggled into his shoulder. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He grabbed s">Hustify"her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Do you own a laptop with a video cam?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I have an idea how to clear my name right away, before more hellhounds sniff around the door.”

  Rosalie set the computer up on the kitchen table. She stood off to the side and watched the screen over his shoulder. Minutes later, David spoke with a relieved middle-aged woman named Grace who he introduced as his mother, and a man called Stephen Lundquist he addressed as the Odin. Someone named Sadhri Malik stood in the background. She dressed like an escapee from a sword and sorcery role playing game and wore a fierce look as if daring anyone to interrupt them. Rosalie doubted anyone, including Billy the hellhound, had the balls.

  David flipped The Book around so everyone in New York saw the pages. “David Kloss.”

  “Nice List,” boomed out the mystical voice. “David searched for The Book since falsely accused of the theft. This evening David saved the life of Rosalie Thatcher.”

  “Who stole The Book?” thundered Stephen.

  “Show me Anthony Pearce,” ordered David.

  The bright red letters of the Naughty List lit up the top of the page. They shone so brilliantly Rosalie’s eyes watered. “Anthony Pearce stole The Book from the repository. He allowed David Kloss to assume blame for the crime. He assisted in the blackmail of Randall Penrose. He assaulted Stephanie Crowder. He destroyed personal property of Rosalie Thatcher. He attempted to murder Rosalie Thatcher.”

  “Twice,” Rosalie piped up and then clamped her lips shut in embarrassment.

  “Twice,” echoed The Book.

  Stephen leaned in toward the screen, his expression grim. “David, you need to get The Book back to New York ASAP. The other wardens have to see this.”

  “Don’t you dare dash-away,” warned Grace. “You’re exhausted.”

  “He can’t,” noted Sadhri. “The adepts need several hours to lower the shields.”

  Stephen considered for a moment. “The jet is still at the airport in Seaglades. I’ll call and let the crew know to expect you immediately.”

  Grace flashed Rosalie a warm smile. “Do you feel up to traveling? I would love to meet you in person and thank you for everything.”

  Rosalie flushed. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I think it is. Please say you’ll come.”

  “Your appearance also helps, David,” Stephen urged, “if you tell your story to the wardens in person.”

  “Of course I will.” Rosalie swallowed. Oh crimony, David and I haven’t even had a first date and I’m on the way to meet his mother.

  “Hang on,” called Sadhri. “Before you sign off, I want to see one more name.” She raised her voiced and called out. “Dominic Schiller.”

  The Book’s pages flipped rapidly to a clean sheet. The words Naughty List slowly appeared at the top, although not with the same brilliant crimson intensity as seen with Anthony. As a matter of fact, Rosalie noted, some letters didn’t glow at all.

  “Naughty List.”

  “Hah!” cackled Sadhri.

  “Dominic Schiller used unnecessary roughness in the apprehension of the Santa and his son. He accused the Santa and his son of the theft of The Book and knew they weren’t responsible.”

  “I knew it!” Sadhri shouted. “He stole The B se she thefook.”

  “Dominic Schiller did not steal The Book.”

  “Well, he knew who did,” she snapped. “Same difference.”

  “It is not.”

  “Listen you—”

  Grace jumped in. “Sadhri, arguing with supernatural objects is pointless. We won’t get to the bottom of the theft over a computer monitor.” She turned to her son. “Hurry home, David…and Rosalie, thank you, again.” The screen went dark.

  Rosalie gulped. “I’ll grab my purse.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Mom and Dad will think you’re great.” He rose and took her hand. “Like me. That is,” he teased, “if you’re sure you’re totally over Pearce. I can’t believe you had the hots for a demon.”

  “Hey, cut me some slack,” she protested. “I didn’t know he was evil at the time. He was…” She searched her mind for a comparison. “My version of a male dryad.” She shot the E.L.F. a wicked look. “Maybe we should analyze your attraction to them.”

  “No reason to. I’m now drawn to a brunette with mental problems who hallucinates elves and demons and thinks Santa is real. What a nutjob.” He bent down and kissed her again.

  “Lips still numb?”

  “Yup.” He nuzzled her ear, sending pleasant little shivers down Rosalie’s spine. “I may try them out several times before we reach New York.”

  Before they left, David helped Rosalie sweep up the broken debris from Anthony’s rampage. Then he cleared a corner of her apartment. He stood still, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lines of concentration etched his face and then his expression cleared. “The location is locked in now. When I dash-away here, I’ll head right to this spot. No more hard landings.” He looked up in sudden embarrassment. “If that’s okay with you. I-I’ll call first.”

  Rosalie blushed. “It’s okay,” she assured the E.L.F., kissing him lightly. Yup. Lips were definitely on the mend.

  Ten minutes later they drove up to the back of the airport to the private jet landing field. A sleek, shiny craft sat parked at the gate. Stairs extended from the passenger door to the tarmac. A man in a pilot’s uniform bounded down to shake David’s hand. “I’m glad to see you. We got the word from the Odin you were cleared.”

  “Thanks, Mark. Are we ready to leave?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  Rosalie and David settled into their seats. Other than Mark and a co-pilot, the plane carried a steward named Malcolm who hovered around them like an overprotective hen with a bevy of chicks. He brought them pillows and blankets and a pair of slippers for Rosalie that he insisted she don immediately because her soggy, mud-encrusted shoes did not look comfortable at all. As the plane prepared for take-off, he hustled up front to his seat near the galley after assuring them dinner would be served as soon as the jet leveled out.

  Rosalie leaned over to David and whispered, “Is he an Integral?”

  “They all are. Mark and his co-pilot are descendents of yōkai, Japanese animal spirits—specifically tengu, shape shifting birds of prey. Tengu make damn good pilots. Malcolm, on the other hand, is a dryad.”

  She blinked. “A male dryad? I thought dryads were female?

  “Back in the old days they were, but once Integrals intermingled with humans, the standards didn’t apply any more. If two Integrals have children, the daughters inherit the mot shere Inteher’s power and the sons the father’s, but with human/Integral bonding, powers are passed
to children—both male and female.” Rosalie tried not to stare as Malcolm bustled around in the galley.

  David sighed. “Dryads tend to hover. They take it personally when people around them aren’t happy, so you may as well relax and enjoy yourself or he’ll get mopey. On the plus side, they’re really good cooks and I’m starving.”

  So was Rosalie. Malcolm brought them a lovely dinner complete with china service. She wanted to talk to David some more, but Malcolm popped in every few minutes with a hot towel or another drink. When she declined his offer to fluff her pillow, he looked so sad she took it back. He did an awesome job of fluffing, she concluded. By the time dinner was cleared away Rosalie yawned heavily. She decided to close her eyes for a few seconds, but the next thing she knew David gently nudged her awake. The jet was on final approach to J.F.K. Airport.

  When they exited the aircraft they found Grace waiting on the tarmac. A man in his late forties held her hand. He was clean-shaven, no dimples, and not a trace of jelly belly. Although wan and haggard as befit an extended prison stay, his eyes lit up with a definite twinkle at the sight of his son.

  “Dad! You’re free!” David bounded down the stairs with The Book.

  Behind Rosalie, Malcolm sighed happily as David and his parents greeted each other. “I’m so happy to see the family back together, especially with the Santa. The dryads were all worried about him.” He slipped her a small bag. “I packed a few things in case you get hungry on the way. I also put in the slippers, because I know you liked them.” He wagged a finger at her. “Don’t try to tell me you didn’t.” Rosalie thanked him profusely and turned to walk down the stairs before he offered a parting backrub, too.

  David called from the bottom of the ramp. “Rosalie, come meet the folks.”

  “Don’t worry,” Malcolm whispered, giving her a little nudge. “They’ll absolutely love you.”

  Rosalie swallowed nervously. She walked down the ramp, frantically wondering the proper form of address for Santa and the missus. In the end she simply held out her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Kloss.”

  All formality dropped as Brian pulled her in close and kissed her cheek. “The pleasure is ours, Rosalie. Please call us Brian and Grace.”