by Keri Arthur
“Hocking,” Janice said, after a moment. “Felicity Hocking.”
“And how long have you and Felicity been lovers?”
“A few weeks.” She shrugged and finally opened her eyes. The faintest hint of alarm crossed her expression. “Who are you? Do I know you?”
If Amanda had been her lover for a few weeks, it meant she’d been so before the sindicati had kidnapped us both and her mind had been taken over.
“I’m Emberly Pearson—I’m one of the private investigators your boss employed to investigate the theft of research notes.”
“He’s dead.” She closed her eyes again. “Can’t be sad about that.”
Which wasn’t a surprising comment. Rosen Senior certainly hadn’t endeared himself to me in the brief time I’d known him, and I couldn’t help but think he’d have been a difficult man to work with.
“Don’t go to sleep, Janice. You need to stay with me.”
“I need to sleep. Go away.”
“Felicity has drugged you with god only knows what. You sleep, you might die.”
“She wouldn’t do that. She cares for me.”
“Trust me, the woman you know as Felicity only cares about herself.” And she not only could kill, but had, and multiple times. “Do you know where she lives? Have you ever been to her place?”
“No, but she has an apartment in Docklands.”
The Docklands area was currently very trendy—and therefore very expensive—so it wouldn’t be surprising if Amanda did live there. But there was a hell of a lot of apartment buildings in that area, so we needed a little more information than that to track her down. “She never gave you an address?”
“No.”
Again, that wasn’t really surprising, but it was frustrating. “Did you at least get her phone number?”
“Yes.” She waved her hand airily, almost smacking me in the face. “But you can’t have it. She has a jealous husband who doesn’t understand her.”
I snorted. Amanda had certainly had plenty of husbands over the years, but most of the poor buggers were well and truly dead.
“I saw him the other day,” Janice continued. “I don’t think I was supposed to. Cold-looking fellow.”
Instinct stirred. “Can you describe him?”
“Tall, gray haired, regal sort of nose.” She sniffed. “Drove a big black SUV. I took a picture.”
I blinked. “Of him? Or the car?” Because while that description might be on the vague side, it could easily fit Rinaldo. If it was him, we might have just gotten our first break.
“Both.”
“Can I look at it?”
“Will you leave me alone?”
“I told you, I can’t. You need an ambulance.”
“I need sleep.”
She was drifting off again. I let her go for a moment and rose. Looking around the bedroom didn’t reveal a handbag, so I walked down to the kitchen and found it sitting on the dining table, along with an empty wine bottle and two glasses.
I opened the bag, then rummaged through until I found her cell. It wasn’t locked, so I went straight into her contacts list and looked for Felicity’s name. Unsurprisingly, it had been erased. I hit the ALBUM button, not expecting to find much, but the very first picture that came up was Rinaldo himself. His face was cool and controlled, but there was something in the way he was standing, watching Amanda approach, that made me want to reach into the photo and wrench her out of harm’s way. Amanda was as far from innocent as you could get, but that look very much suggested he was using her in every way possible. And I couldn’t imagine Rinaldo would be either a gentle or generous lover.
I zoomed in on the rear of the SUV and almost cheered—the number plate was crisp and clear. We finally had something that might help us track the bastard down.
I shoved her phone into my back pocket and returned to the bedroom. Janice was asleep, so I shook her roughly. Her response was sleepy and somewhat colorful.
I grinned and glanced at my watch. I probably had another five minutes or so before the ambulance arrived, so I decided to use that time to see what other information I could uncover.
“Janice, what can you tell me about the inverter device the company was developing?”
“I’ve already answered that question,” she said, her voice holding a hint of annoyance.
Not to me, she hadn’t. And if that was one of the questions Amanda had been asking, then it meant Rinaldo hadn’t yet gotten his hands on the device. “I know, but tell me again anyway.”
She yawned hugely. “We had prototypes up and running, but some official government department came in a few weeks ago and secured the whole project. It was all very dramatic.”
A few weeks ago meant it had happened before Rosen had been murdered. Which meant—hopefully—that they were government officials rather than sindicati goons or rats in disguise. As the wail of an approaching siren got louder, I said, “What can you tell me about the project Professor Wilson was working on?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. It was all very hush-hush.”
“And Wilson himself? Do you know much about him?”
“Not really. Rosen called him into the office a couple of times, but I can’t tell you why.”
She couldn’t really tell me much about anything, it seemed, and it made me wonder why Amanda—and therefore Rinaldo—had made the attempt to kill her. Unless, of course, he was simply making sure no one else could pull any information out of her.
The sound of the approaching siren was so close now, the ambulance could only be a street or so away. I pulled Janice’s cell from my pocket, then dug out my phone to grab the inspector’s number and called her.
“Chief Inspector Henrietta Richmond speaking.” Her tone was cool and somewhat reserved—no doubt because I was calling her from an unknown number. And undoubtedly it was already being traced. “How may I assist you?”
“Inspector, it’s Emberly. Amanda Wilson just made an attempt on Janice Green’s life after apparently pumping her for information over the last couple of weeks.”
There was a slight pause. “Interesting. I take it Janice is still alive?”
“Yes, but she’s been drugged with who knows what. I’ve called an ambulance.”
“Yes, I can hear it. What happened to Amanda?”
“Jackson’s following her. We’re hoping she might lead us to Rinaldo’s location.”
“We weren’t aware Amanda was working for him.”
“Nor were we.” Though we had suspected it. “Janice apparently saw them together. She has a pic of them beside an SUV, and the number plate is crystal clear.”
I read it out to her.
“I’ll get it traced immediately,” the inspector said. “Stay with the secretary. I’ll get someone over to check out her house. If they attempted to erase her, she must know something. Keep me informed on her condition.”
“Will do, Inspector.” I hesitated. “Were you aware that some government officials took the inverters and all the information relating to them from Rosen Pharmaceuticals a few weeks ago?”
“Yes, I am.”
“So they were actual government officers, and not fakes?” I persisted.
“Yes.” Amusement touched her tone. “You are not one for giving up until you get what you want, are you?”
“It depends on what it is I want,” I replied. “Did you discover what that chemical formula was?”
“It’s vinegar, apparently. We’re searching the buildings under the Skipping Girl Vinegar sign, as that’s the most obvious place to start.”
Luke was unlikely to have done anything obvious, but I guess the search had to start somewhere. “What about the original premises on Burnley Street?”
“Those buildings were demolished, but we’ve nevertheless sent the military to the area, as well as several ot
her, smaller factories that are actively producing vinegar.”
“I doubt they’ll find anything at such a place,” I said.
“I agree, but they must still be checked.”
The wail of the siren stopped, and the silence was almost eerie. I walked down to the front door. Two men climbed out of the ambulance and were walking toward me, the first of them holding a medical kit.
“The patient is inside.” I stepped to one side to let them both in.
But as I did, I realized the second man was wearing jeans and sneakers rather than the usual black or blue pants and black boots. Government funding might be tight right now, but I doubted the use of casual clothing as part of their everyday uniform had been approved.
“The first bedroom?” he said, his gaze cold and altogether too watchful.
Tension crawled through me, but I forced a smile. “Yes. I think she’s taken something.”
“Emberly?” the inspector said. “Everything okay? You didn’t answer my question.”
I didn’t even hear her question. I forced a smile, then said, “No, sorry, it’s not.”
“We’ll get people there ASAP. Leave the line open.”
“Fine. See you soon.” I shoved the phone into my back pocket, but, as ordered, didn’t hang up.
“She conscious? Talking?” the first ambulance officer continued.
“No.” I stepped back again, giving him plenty of room to pass. The second man didn’t follow him; instead, he stopped and placed a hand on the door frame, effectively stopping me from leaving. And though I didn’t feel the wash of any sort of power, the charm at my neck sprang to life, its heat a warning that magic was being aimed my way.
“You related to the victim?” he asked, the faintest hint of a smile touching his thin lips.
Overconfidence had been the downfall of many a thug.
“No, I’m not.”
I threw a ball of fire sideways to catch his gaze, then took a step forward and kicked him hard in the nuts. As he gasped and doubled over, I swung a fist at his chin and smashed him sideways. He hit the wall hard enough to dent it, then collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Though I heard no footsteps, the warm rush of air past the back of my neck was warning enough that the other thug was closing in. I swung round but wasn’t quite fast enough. The blow hit me low in the stomach and sent me tumbling backward. I landed on my spine and slid backward for a yard or so, gathering splinters from the porch’s old boards. I swore and struggled to my feet, fire flickering across my fingertips, ready to defend or attack. Something hit my arm, and I glanced down to see a silvery dart sticking out of it.
Fuck.
I wrenched it out and reached for my fires, then heard a shout from the street and swung around to see two women watching me.
“You all right?” one asked.
No, I wasn’t, because they were there and that meant I dared not take on fire form and reveal what I truly was.
“Fine,” I muttered, and ran for the gate.
The thug didn’t chase me.
He didn’t need to.
I was out before I got anywhere near the front gate.
CHAPTER 8
The rise to consciousness was abrupt. One minute I was out; the next I was awake. It was the sort of abruptness that wasn’t natural, but rather the result of some sort of stimulant. I could feel it coursing through my body, making my heart race.
But worse than that was the sudden awareness that I wasn’t alone—that there were two others in the place with me. Both were male, and if their voices were any guide, they were very familiar.
One of them was Rinaldo’s witch. The other was Theodore Hunt, the werewolf hit man who’d sworn to kill me because I’d apparently ruined his reputation by stopping him from committing murder. Not once, but twice.
Fire rose unbidden, but rather than erupting from my skin, it continued to rage within me and seemed to hold little in the way of heat. Something—someone—had managed to restrict my most powerful weapon.
It wasn’t difficult to guess who.
I forced my eyes open.
Something dangled in front of my gaze. I blinked, trying to focus, and saw what looked like multicolored strings entwined together.
It was Grace’s charm, loosely wrapped around a decidedly bony-looking finger rather than my neck.
That was the reason my flames were restricted—with the charm no longer around my neck, its protective barrier had been deactivated, and Frederick’s spell had finally been able to curtail my flames. But was my access to the mother similarly stopped? And dare I even reach for her after what had happened last time?
“This,” Frederick said, his voice conversational, “is a rather brilliant bit of spell casting. Who made it for you?”
“A witch.”
It came out croaky. I swallowed heavily, but it didn’t ease the dryness in my throat. I wondered how long I’d been out; wondered what in hell they’d given me.
“Obviously,” he said. “But who? She’s someone I’d be interested in speaking to.”
“I doubt speaking is what you’d be doing. Not after what happened to those three witches you helped infect.”
“Infect, yes, but you, my dear, killed them.” He leaned closer, his pale features looming out of the darkness in an almost ghostlike manner. Or maybe it just seemed that way, thanks to his gaunt, almost skeletal features. “Tell me who it is.”
“How about you go fuck yourself.”
I reached for the mother. Energy surged at my call, but it was a distant thing—a heat I could feel but not yet use. Frederick’s spell had placed a barrier between us, but it was one that restricted my access rather than completely forbade it. And that suggested his power was the darker kind—the kind that came from blood sacrifice and personal energy rather than from the earth and the energy of the world itself. He undoubtedly knew about both, but he’d have little experience with the mother and no true understanding of her.
Which was both good and bad. It meant I should be able to access her given time, but time was something I might not have a whole lot of.
Frederick sighed. “Theodore? Please show Ms. Pearson the error of her ways.”
Heat surged at his words, but once again it did little more than flare across my skin. “Touch me,” I said, “and I’ll fucking kill you.”
Hunt chuckled. It was a cold and oddly demented sound. But then, he and sanity had never particularly been bosom buddies.
The darkness near my feet shifted—became something that was big and powerful, and whose eyes promised death. With almost loving care, he gripped the littlest toe on my left foot. Knowing what was coming, I began to struggle, but I was tied down far too well, both physically and magically. All I could do was send heat surging down to my foot and hope it was enough. My skin began to glow so fiercely, it cast an orange light across the shadows and lent Hunt’s gaze a bloody glow.
It didn’t help.
Either Hunt didn’t feel the heat or he simply didn’t care, because he gripped my toe tighter and simply forced it backward.
Pain ripped through me, and I screamed.
Hunt sucked in a deep breath, then sighed, the sound almost orgasmic. Bastard, I thought dazedly. Sick, dead bastard.
Fingers gripped my chin and forced my head sideways. Frederick’s skeletal features came into view. “Tell me the name of the witch who gave you that charm, or would you rather Hunt break another toe?”
Hunt’s fingers moved to my next toe; they were trembling slightly, but whether that was anticipation or desire I had no idea—and no real wish to find out.
I reached again for the mother; this time, the wash of her heat was stronger, and the invisible wall between us seemed to shudder. Time. I just needed goddamn time!
And that meant I had to keep them talking—keep them from doing whate
ver it was they intended doing. “Like he isn’t going to anyway.”
“Oh, trust me, he intends a whole lot more than merely breaking toes.” He lightly patted my arm, as if to comfort me.
It was only then that I realized I was naked. Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .
I closed my eyes and tried to control the wash of panic. I could get through this. I could survive it.
And it wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. No one, man or woman, could live through as many decades as I had without being violated in some way. Not even those of us who weren’t human.
“The name, Emberly,” Frederick said.
“Call Hunt off and you might have a deal.”
“You are in no position to make any sort of deal, I’m afraid.” He slid his bony fingers down my arm and then across to my stomach, letting them rest just above my pubic bone. “You are, however, in a perfect position to fuck. And while that is something Hunt wants so very much, I rather suspect you do not.”
I couldn’t help glancing down at Hunt. His eyes glowed in anticipation.
“Answering all your questions isn’t going to stop him doing that,” I said, “and we both know it.”
“Perhaps not. But the only way you will know for sure is to answer the question.”
I closed my eyes. The mother’s heat was close, so damn close. I could almost touch her now, and the fact that I couldn’t had tears of rage and frustration stinging my eyes. I took a deep, shuddering breath and released it slowly. Patience. I just had to have patience.
“Why do you want her name? What do you and your psycho boss want from her?”
“My psycho boss wants nothing from her,” Frederick said. “In fact, he would be rather peeved by my actions.”
I blinked. “You’re not here on his orders?”
“No.” Frederick drew in a deep breath and smiled benignly. “I do so love the smell of fear and rampant need. The latter is Hunt’s, of course, not yours.”
He was as sick as Hunt. And just as dead. Or would be, when I broke through to the mother.