“All right,” I said. “So be it.”
I told him everything, the condensed version that left out any mention of Anton, or any specifics that would violate the confidentiality agreement. Someone killed Helen Miller because they needed information from her to steal an object. I was hired to recover said object. Said thief was inside waiting for me. I needed Arianne to see Andy with me so she’d use her magic to keep the thief from using hers.
It was hard to explain why I didn’t want him to come with me into the room without making it sound like a Harry Potter movie, and I floundered for a good way to put it.
“I’m going to confront her, and if Arianne doesn’t put up the wards, I could end up having an impromptu…duel.”
“Like a wizard’s duel,” he said.
I opened my mouth to head off what I knew was coming, but I wasn’t fast enough.
“Sounds like Harry Potter.”
My shoulders sagged in defeat. “Yes, just like Harry Potter,” I grumbled. “If I die, do be kind enough not to use that comparison in my eulogy.”
“You will not die. How can I help?”
I rubbed a hand over my face, but froze before I could touch my hair and disturb the complicated style. “Don’t you see? That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You can’t help. You’re human, and what’s more, you’re new to all of this. I don’t even have any armor for you.”
“I’m wearing my vest.”
I snorted. “Bullets are the last thing I’m worried about.”
Andy set his shoulders, straightening his spine. He wasn't backing down. My stomach twisted into a sharp knot. I couldn’t be responsible for his death.
I tried to keep my intentions off my face, hide them behind a bright smile. “If you insist on getting yourself killed, you can come to the room with me. If she points at me, shoot her. Maybe it will distract her long enough for you to run.”
And with that, I marched toward the hotel.
If I wasn’t so short, it would have taken him more than two seconds to catch up with me.
“Where’s the”—he took a silent running start—pixie?”
“She’s inside. It’s her job to make sure Arianne is standing where she’ll see you, and, if necessary, lead her to activate the wards.”
“Is there a reason you couldn’t just ask this woman to use her wards to help you?”
I cleared my throat. “We aren’t on the best of terms.”
We entered the hotel then, cutting off any further questions Andy might have had. This time, I was ready for the magic that washed over me, that false, lavender-scented calm that filled me with the desire to find a comfortable bed, let reality fade away as I slipped into a dream world that would be so much less work than reality.
I resisted the magic and raised a hand, ready to grab Andy’s shoulder and shake him out of the enchantment. My lips parted when I found him scanning the lobby as if expecting armed men to rush him at any second, muscles tensed and ready for action. The magic hadn’t fazed him. My respect for him ratcheted up a notch.
Peasblossom was around somewhere, but I didn’t search for her. She was good at hiding, and that was what I’d told her to do. If she’d done her job well, Arianne should be on the lookout for me…
And there she is.
I swallowed the shout of joy I wanted to let out as I caught sight of the dream sorceress out of the corner of my eye. Violet silk wrapped her body like the cocoon of some exotic butterfly, hugging the graceful lines of her legs and torso. Sapphires glittered around her neck on a silver chain, and her makeup was so expertly done that it seemed she wasn’t wearing any at all. She stood behind the main counter next to a concierge, staring at me with murder in her eyes.
“Stay here,” I whispered to Andy. “Flash your badge to the woman in the purple dress if you can. Be subtle.”
Andy didn’t acknowledge what I’d said, but I knew he’d heard me. It was almost scary just how alert he was. Probably had high blood pressure. I hoped he limited his sodium intake—too much salt could wreak havoc on high blood pressure.
“Mother Renard,” Arianne said, her voice as welcoming as a cold fireplace. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
I gave her a bright smile. “You have such a lovely establishment that I couldn’t resist. I have business in town, and it’s such a long drive home.” I looked to the concierge. “May I have the room key for the reservation under Andy Bradford?”
“A long drive home,” Arianne said. “Yes, I suppose Dresden is a bit far.”
A tinge of fear twanged against my spine, and I dropped the pen I’d just used to sign the register as Andrea Bradford. Had I mentioned I was from Dresden? I didn’t think I had.
A lump swelled in my throat.
No. No, Dabria cut Vera. She took her blood. Why take her blood except to unlock the book?
Dabria is one of the most renowned thieves in the Otherworld. She’s the perfect patsy.
But then why did Dabria agree to meet you?
An image of Isai being strung up and tortured fluttered through my mind like a swarm of bats. Peasblossom’s report of what Dabria had said to the bloody wizard. Her fury, her panic over the thought of suffering Anton’s wrath for something she hadn’t done.
My knees turned to jelly and I clung to the counter to avoid collapsing to the floor. Had I made a horrible, horrible mistake?
“Ms. Renard? Are you all right?”
I groped for my room key, only vaguely aware that Arianne had disappeared. A strong hand on my waist dragged me back to reality, out of the spiraling chaos of my panicked thoughts.
“She’s fine, thank you. Shade, let’s get you to your room so you can rest.”
Andy’s deep voice reverberated against my bones, and I let him guide me away from the counter, my room card digging into my hand.
Get it together, Shade. You’re just doubting yourself because you’re almost there. Dabria did this. Arianne wasn’t even on Anton’s list.
By the time we got to the elevator, I’d gotten my legs under control. Andy was watching me, but to his credit, he didn’t comment.
“So what room number are you?” he asked.
I avoided his eyes, waiting for the elevator doors to open. As soon as they did, I darted inside, knowing he’d follow, assuming I was trying to lose him. He flowed after me, planting a hand on the wall opposite, crowding me close enough I couldn’t get away, but with enough distance he’d be able to block any funny business I tried. Smart man.
“I’m room 314,” I said calmly.
His jaw hardened and his eyes bored into mine. “Don’t lie to me.”
That intense stare did half my work for me. I called my power and let it flow upward, filling my eyes with a purple light visible only to magical senses. The energy was reflected in Andy’s eyes, holding him still as the charm oozed into my voice. “Wait here.”
I ducked under his arm and checked the lights above the elevator door. Number three lit up and a soft electronic ping preceded the opening of the door. I punched the button for the ground floor and darted out of the elevator.
Andy stared at me, confusion dulling his brown eyes, robbing him of his earlier clarity. Guilt bit me, hard, but I ignored it and ran for the stairs. Andy wouldn’t stay dazed for long. He was sharper than I’d given him credit for, and something told me he wasn’t the type to be manipulated easily. There was no time to wonder if his resistance came from FBI training or if there was something in his family tree to explain it. I had to get to the room before he realized what I’d done.
Four flights of stairs later, I was out of breath and regretting my choice to take the stairs rather than wait for another elevator. Room 706 loomed before me, the little silver numbers much more imposing than they should have been. I scanned the empty hallway as I stood in front of the door to the stairs, my chest rising and falling too rapidly.
I hovered outside the door to my room, the key card in my grip. Of course Dabria couldn’t be in there making
a great deal of noise, assuring me that she was here and waiting. No, she would be silent, would force me to consider the possibility she hadn’t done as I’d expected, perhaps had arrived early to ambush me. The potion I’d gulped down gurgled in my stomach.
A spell struck me from behind, slamming into my brain with the muted force of a pillow stuffed with apples. Not quite the violence of a sock full of quarters, but it’d do. I didn’t have enough breath to shout as I slammed into the door, hard.
My head bounced off the unforgiving surface and I blinked to clear my double vision as I raised a hand. I drew power on my next deep breath, then spit toward whoever had struck me. Tar so dark a blue it was almost black shot from my mouth to splatter my attacker. A muffled curse preceded a feminine voice.
“Peasant,” she spat. “That’s disgusting.”
Dabria held still, trying to keep from further entangling herself in my spell. She swirled one finger around and bit out a counter-curse, dispelling the adhesive resin holding her in a sticky web. I reached for another spell as I shoved myself to my feet, but she held up a hand.
“Enough!” She smoothed her hands down her black dress, fluffing out the purple feathers decorating the neckline. “Let us not squabble like grubby street urchins.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at me. “We are here for a civil trade, are we not?”
“There is nothing civil about striking someone from behind,” I said. “That was not nice.”
Dabria waved a hand as if I’d accused her of not saying my name correctly. “Whatever. Shall we proceed?”
I almost argued with her on principle. Dabria was like a child trying to reason their way out of using good manners, and the witch in me needed to set her straight, to point out how rude she’d been and correct the bad behavior. A more logical part of my brain told me I was standing in an un-warded hallway, and if I wanted to enjoy the protection I’d gone to such trouble to attain, I needed to move this conversation into my room. Besides which, I had a horrible headache, and the sooner I got through this, the sooner I could lie down and die.
“Fine.” I put my card in the lock without turning my back on the rude sorceress. An electronic mechanism buzzed and the lock snapped open. I pushed the door with one hand, backing into the room.
Dabria followed me with a condescending smirk. “Don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust thieving murderers.”
The sorceress gave me nothing. Instead she folded her hands, neat as you please, in front of her and met my eyes like a mother preparing to give her child a firm but loving lecture. “There is no reason for that sort of language. We can be friends, you and I.”
I shook my head, then regretted it as the headache screamed in protest. “You tried to kill me. I’m afraid that puts a damper on the future of our relationship. The only offering I have for you is as I said on the phone. Give me the book, and I won’t say a word about who stole it.”
Her expression hardened, the line of her jaw going taut. “Last chance, witchling. We can be friends, or you can be dead.”
“Kill me and your name goes straight to the vampire.” I smirked. “You think I’m the only one who worked it out?”
She lowered her hand from her hair and there was something small and blue in her palm. She threw it at me, and a cloud of cerulean dust flowed outward like a rolling fog. Her eyes flashed. “Who? Give me a name.”
I put a hand over my nose, squeezed my eyes shut, and prayed I hadn’t misjudged Arianne, prayed that Peasblossom had been properly panicked.
Nothing happened. I opened my eyes and glanced down at my body. A few seconds passed and shock spread over Dabria’s face. I lowered my hand from my nose with a grin. “Well,” I said, dusting the harmless blue dust from my clothes, “that was pretty. Now, hand over the book.”
“You aren’t strong enough to shed my spells,” Dabria snarled. “What’s going on?”
I’d been working on a clever line in anticipation of that very question. I opened my mouth, eyebrow quirking in an appropriately mocking manner…
Pain exploded in the back of my head and everything went black.
CHAPTER 17
I woke up with a headache that only monumental stupidity deserved. Every hair on my head seemed to be trying to escape, tugging at its root like a cat fleeing a bubble bath.
“I’ll shave it all off,” I mumbled. “Wear a wig. Maybe red. Or purple.” I frowned. “No, not purple.”
“What is she talking about?” demanded a masculine voice.
“She’s not talking about anything, you old fool, she’s delirious. I told you, you hit her too hard. You’re lucky she’s not dead already.”
“You’re lucky she’s not dead,” the man snarled back.
All my concentration was going to not letting my head fall off my shoulders, but I recognized that voice. That arrogant, insulting voice, couched in what had to be a gallon’s worth of cologne.
“Shut up, Spitbeard,” I said. “There’s no need to shout.”
Silence. I wrinkled my nose. Speaking had let some of that noxious odor into my mouth, and now I tasted wizard. Ew.
“What did she call you?” Dabria asked.
“I have no idea. She’s delirious.”
My brain finished processing the bad smell and taste from Isai, and the full realization of my situation struck me like a sledgehammer between the eyes. Someone had hit me from behind, knocking me unconscious. Not someone. A wizard. Isai, who was now standing over me talking to the woman who’d stolen his employer’s book. The woman who’d tortured him and accused him of stealing said book. My head throbbed and I groaned.
“This is ridiculous. “She’s no good to us like this,” Isai muttered.
There was the smack of skin against skin and Dabria’s sharp voice. “Don’t heal her, you idiot. That’s not how this works.”
“Why not?” I forced my eyes open. Light speared into my eyes, stabbing into my brain. I whimpered and squeezed them shut again. “Gods, it’s bright in here.”
“Turn the lights off,” Dabria commanded.
Isai scoffed. “I am not your servant. You’re the one who wants the woman in pain. If you want the lights off to spare the witch’s delicate eyes, turn them off yourself.”
“I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. I said turn them off. Now.”
I opened my eyes, too interested in my surroundings to be bothered by exploding eyeballs. Isai’s face darkened with rage, his cheeks mottled red. He moved with all the grace of a remote-controlled robot, but he stormed over to the light switch all the same. In a childish show of temper, he slammed his staff down on the light switch, cracking the plastic base as he “turned off” the lights. I eyed the cracked setting as my head throbbed. I sympathized.
With the beams of light no longer stabbing into my brain like a fork into an undercooked roast, my hands took their turn to tell me something was wrong. My fingers felt funny, swollen and tight. A quick flexing told me they’d tied me to the bed. They’d only secured my wrists, though, my legs moved freely. Small favors.
The hotel room I’d rented was smaller than some, larger than most. The headboard of the bed pressed against the wall, so I had a view of the entire space. To my left, a short hallway led to the main door and the bathroom. A dresser sat against the wall opposite the bed, and a closet lay to the right. Windows covered the wall on the right, but my captors had drawn the shades.
Isai stood at the wall to my left, his back to the short hallway. He wore his expensive suit, his twisted staff squeezed in a ham-fisted grip. The reddish orange of his beard caught the light as his jaw moved, his teeth clenching and unclenching. Not a happy man, that wizard.
Dabria sat in a chair beside the bed, looking for all the world like a doting family member visiting an ill relative. It would have been a more convincing picture if she weren’t dressed like a woman ready to go to a Gothic-themed ball.
I was the prisoner of a sorceress and a wizard, both of whom were rat
her annoyed with me. And, I suspected, both of whom had a vested interest in making sure my investigative career came to a sudden and bloody end.
Panic sharpened my nerves into needle-fine points to stab at my skin in an unpleasant prickling sensation. My chest rose and fell a little faster as my breathing quickened, and for a chaotic second, I thought I would hyperventilate.
“Spitbeard!”
Without conscious thought, I shouted the nickname Peasblossom had given the wizard. Saying it out loud reminded me of how he’d gotten that nickname, and some of my building hysteria leaked out in a high-pitched laugh. Isai blinked at me as if I’d grown a second head. His bewilderment made me laugh again, and I threw myself into the funny side of hysterics. So much better than blind panic.
“I would say I’m surprised you’re letting Dabria boss you around,” I managed, my voice a little too breathless. “But then, maybe I shouldn’t be. How long has it been since you controlled your own life?”
Dabria chuckled and lifted something from the small bedside table. “He does seem very fitted to the role of servant, doesn’t he?”
“The vampire thinks so,” I agreed. I stared at the delicate cup in her hand, the fine saucer in the other. She was having tea? My dry throat tightened, a sudden thirst twisting my gut.
Dabria laughed again at my little joke and I tried to join her, hoping a little camaraderie might get me a cup of tea. The sorceress’ eyes glittered with sadistic pleasure as she took an extra-long sip, holding my gaze the entire time. No tea for me.
An irrational surge of anger swept over me, diluting my fear, soothing my pain. They were going to kill me. I understood that—perhaps, on some level, I’d accepted it. But I would not lie here and be mocked, manipulated into spending my last hours of this life suffering.
Denied tea.
When I regained the capacity to process full, coherent thought without risking permanent brain damage, I looked from Isai to Dabria. The wizard stewed in his own fury, a state of mind I assumed he was used to by now. Dabria remained the epitome of cool confidence—arrogance, even. She thought she’d won.
Deadline (Blood Trails Book 1) Page 25