Damn, this pretend-Fae thing worked too well. Oddly enough, she hadn’t noticed anything like this in the clubs last night. But they’d been gay bars. Maybe the magic only worked on straight men, like Riddick and his partner.
Whatever. As it was, she needed to find out what they wanted and get rid of them. Between her lack of attire and the magic spell, she’d have to be careful.
“We just need a minute of your time,” Riddick said, his gaze burning holes in her back.
“And you’ve got it,” she called over her shoulder. “But first, I’ve got to put on a robe.”
Ignoring more protests, she ran for her room and the thick, terry-cloth bathrobe hanging in her closet.
“Here.” Whispering, Cenrick handed it to her from his hiding place inside the closet. “How long do you think this will take?”
“Not long.” She hoped.
“Get rid of them. We’ve got more important things to do.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “But this is important too. My career is on the line. I need to find out how seriously they take these new, trumped up charges. And if they know who’s body that is. Wait here.”
Slipping into the robe and belting it tightly around her waist, she tugged the collar closed and dashed back down the hall, slowing to a casual walk as she reached the corner.
“All right, I’m ready.” Entering the room, she plastered a smile on her face. Amazing how much safer she felt now that she was covered up.
Both men’s gazes could have burned through steel. Riddick in particularly appeared predatory, like a hungry lion about to pounce. They both stood, since she hadn’t offered them seats, waiting.
Okay. Swallowing, she tried to remember her manners. “Please, have a seat. Would you like a glass of water or anything?” Still smiling, she took a seat on the edge of the chair and crossed her legs, smoothing the robe carefully.
Officer Riddick sat near her, on the sofa. His partner, still staring, declined.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.” Riddick’s voice sounded huskier than it had at first. Evidently he realized this, since he cleared his throat.
If she was careful, she could use this magical beauty thing to her advantage. Now that she was covered up, that is.
“Of course I don’t.” She gave them her sweetest smile.
“We found a body.”
She nodded. “I saw that on the news.”
“Wearing your partner’s uniform.”
This time, she said nothing.
“Though he had no fingerprints – they were cut off – we were able to identify him through dental records.”
She held her breath, waiting. Despite what Cenrick had said, she half expected him to say it was Mick.
“The body was not Mick Morsi’s.”
Releasing her breath, she didn’t try to hide her relief. “That’s good. Do you know who it was?”
“Yes,” Riddick’s look was even more predatory. “The body belonged to a friend of his. Jack Singleterry.”
“Jack?” Her throat closed. She blinked away tears. “How? Why?”
“That’s what we’d like to know.” Riddick leaned forward, so close his nose almost touched hers. “We were hoping you could tell us.”
Rearing back, she pushed herself to her feet. For one awful second there, she’d thought Riddick might try to kiss her. She wondered if Cenrick could remove the spell and put it back on her when she needed to use it.
“Do you know anything about Mr. Singleterry’s death?” the younger man asked, his tone gentle. “Any idea what happened to him?”
“Absolutely not.” Despite her attempt to sound cool and calm, her voice shook. “Jack was a very dear friend of Mick’s, and mine as well.”
Riddick fell silent, still watching, as though he hoped she’d spill the truth at any moment. His partner, hanging on to her every word, wore a dazed, dreamy look on his freckled face.
Giving herself a mental shake, she looked from one to the other. She wanted time alone to grieve. “Is there anything else?”
“Nope.” Unfolding himself from the sofa, Riddick walked towards his partner, snapping his fingers in front of the younger man’s face. “Let’s go, Kenny.”
They let themselves out. She locked the door behind them.
“Jack.” She spoke his name in a hushed whisper, wishing for tears and feeling only an awful, blinding rage.
Walking into the room, Cenrick caught sight of her face and stopped. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The body they found? That was Jack. They killed Jack.”
He gathered her in his arms. “We’ll get them Dee. We will.”
She felt cold, like ice, even though fury still burned inside her. “Yes, we will. We’ll get them and we’ll make them pay.” Untying the bathrobe, she let it fall to the floor as she lifter her face for his kiss.
“Make me feel alive,” she told him.
So he did.
* * *
Though she’d given them her number, Natasha’s people didn’t call that night, or the next. Growing weary of waiting and impatient to take action, Dee deliberated going back out to the clubs.
As she was about to bring up the subject with Cenrick, the phone finally rang. This time, when Caller I.D. showed unidentified caller, her heart began to race. “Here we go,” she mouthed to Cenrick, before picking up the handset. “Hello?”
“Dee Bishop?” The purposely distorted voice was unrecognizable.
“Yes. Who is this? What do you want?”
“Never mind who I am.”
“Is this about the…” She glanced at the card. “party?”
All she heard was the sound of breathing. The man sounded as though he wore a mask or something over his face.
“Party?” He chuckled, though it sounded more like wheezing. “Not really. Mick asked me to call you.”
Mick? Her heart stopped. Did he know what had happened to Jack? Instead of asking this, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Why doesn’t Mick call me himself?”
There was a long pause and then, “He isn’t able.”
“Where is he? Is he all right?” As if this person would tell her.
“Mick is close. He’s hiding out in Dallien.”
In Dallien? A tried and true South Worth native, Mick always made fun of Dallien. What better place to hide?
“Jack’s dead,” the man continued. “And Mick’s afraid he’s next. He needs your help. He wants to see you.”
She grabbed a pen. “Where?”
“Lower Dweenville. At a club called Flight Risk. The place looks like it’s closed, but it’s not. Go inside and he’ll be waiting in the back room.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. And come alone. He wants to talk to you without the Fae prince.”
Fae prince? Why wouldn’t Mick have mentioned his name? “Without who?”
The man grunted, the sound menacing. “Cenrick of Rune. Enough games.”
Fine. They were calling the shots.
“When?” she asked.
“Tonight.” He chuckled, the sound sending chills down Dee’s spine. “And you’d better come alone, or Mick won’t see you.”
“Of course,” she agreed. Replacing the receiver, she looked up to find Cenrick watching her, waiting for an explanation.
She relayed the caller’s words.
“You’re not going alone,” he said immediately. “That’d be playing right into their hands.”
“Maybe. But if this is a set-up, it makes no sense. It has to be real.”
Pacing, Cenrick frowned. “I don’t know. They still may call about the party. They don’t know the Fae woman in the club and Dee Bishop the policewoman are one and the same. Unless they found out.”
“How would they find out? Who would have told them?”
“Mick? It’s possible he told them you’re not Fae.”
“I think it’s more likely Mick got in over his head and
wants out. When Jack was killed…” She swallowed. “I can’t believe he would kill Jack. No way.”
He stopped his pacing long enough to cup her chin in his hands and give her a quick, hard kiss. “Either way, I don’t like it. You’re not going alone.”
“Oh, yes I am.” She glared at him, refusing to allow his kiss to distract her. “The question is, whether I let you accompany me or not.”
He folded his arms. “Just try and stop me.”
The Dweenwillle Avenue club scene had its fringe areas. Places where it wasn’t safe to walk at night, alleys where hapless men had been beaten, knifed and killed. Dallien cops tried to patrol it, but the area seemed to move, as though liquid, shifting from one alley to the next at the whim of the dark-souled types who stalked it.
Flight Risk was on one such street.
They parked directly under the streetlight.
“The place looks abandoned.” Cenrick seemed to sense the inherent risk, or maybe he picked up on her almost palpable nervousness.
Dee took in the boarded up windows and shook her head. “He said it would.” Her attempt at nonchalance failed miserably.
Watching her, Cenrick’s eyes were calm. “Do you want to leave?”
“Leave? Hell, no. Not if there’s a chance Mick is alive and well and here. If he really does want to talk to me, I want to hear what he has to say. Especially since he’s about the only one beside Natasha who can tell us what’s going on.”
“Us.” he mused. “They told you to come alone, remember?”
“I know. That’s why I’m getting out of this car and going up there by myself. You wait a little bit, then sneak around to the back. I don’t think they want to hurt me.”
“Really?” His brows rose. “Then what do you think they want?”
“I’m not sure.” She wasn’t worried. “You know, there’s a very small possibility that Mick really is here and needs my help.”
“But you don’t believe that, do you?”
“Hell no.” She gave him her best confident smile. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” Patting her shoulder harness, she adjusted her jacket. “I’m betting they won’t expect me to come armed, especially since Lieutenant Cowell took my service revolver. Only Mick knows I have my own gun.”
She got out of the car and began walking towards the front of the deserted club. Though she forced herself not to look back at her car and give away Cenrick, she couldn’t keep from continually glancing left to right, ready for any other assailant.
As she’d expected, the front door swung open before she even knocked. Entering, she side-stepped the burly man who attempted to grab her.
“Hands off,” she snarled. “Take me to Mick.”
After a moment of startled silence, he laughed. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Mick’s not here.”
She pulled her gun, leveling it on him. “Then I’m leaving. Don’t try and stop me.”
If anything, her comment made him laugh harder. “Go ahead. We don’t want you anyway.”
Stunned, she stared. “What?”
He pointed to the door. “We didn’t want you, fool. We wanted that big Fae prince you’ve been with.”
“You told me not to bring him.”
“We knew he’d insist on coming. And, if things went according to plan, we’ve got him now. You’re too late.”
Before he’d even finished, she’d started running, heading for the door. A trap! But they hadn’t wanted her, they’d wanted Cenrick. And she’d played right into their hands.
They let her go.
Outside, she sprinted for the corner, heading for her car. No one followed.
Still where she’d parked it, the street light shone off the white pain.
When she reached it, she knew before she even yanked on her door handle that she’d fucked up. Royally.
The car was empty.
Cenrick was gone.
She spun, heading around the back of the building. If he’d followed their plan, he should have gone there. Whoever or whatever had grabbed him couldn’t have gone far – there hadn’t been enough time.
But the back alley was deserted, the back door to the building locked. She pounded on the door anyway. No one answered.
From the front, she heard a screech of tires.
Her car! Damn it!
They were stealing her car and leaving her no way to pursue them. They were getting away.
Sprinting back around front, she wasn’t at all surprised to the parking spot empty. But Cenrick – where was he? Where could he have gone? He’d agreed to sneak around to the back, where she’d come out.
Fishing her cell phone from her pocket, she punched speed dial for the phone she’d given him.
All she heard was ringing. Then the automated recording, saying the party was not available.
No answer. This meant Cenrick hadn’t even turned on the phone she’d given him.
* * *
Cenrick stirred, trying to stand, but fell to his knees instead. The creeping weakness took over his limbs gradually, so gradually he didn’t notice it at first. Just like at Mick’s house, Cenrick thought, right before losing his futile struggle to stay upright.
Face plant, right on the ground. Only by turning his head did he keep his nose from hitting hard. Once prone, he couldn’t move, could barely summon up enough energy to inhale and exhale.
Dee! He groaned, knowing Dee couldn’t hear him. How where they doing this to him? The machine he’d seen in the photos was way too large to transport around.
Unless they’d moved it to this club, Flight Risk. Or developed a mobile version. If that was the case, every Fae, everywhere – including those blithely unaware in Rune – was in serious trouble.
Even their prince, the one who’d been charged with saving them, had been bested.
He’d lost, and so would his people, unless Dee was able to help him.
Dee!That was his last coherent thought before everything went black.
Day, night, time had no meaning. When awareness returned to him, he was in a darkened room. Weak, like a newborn dragon. Whoever had captured him hadn’t bothered to tie him up. No doubt his captors knew what they’d done to him was more effective than any chains.
Too feeble to do more than breathe, he tried to summon up even enough strength to raise his head, and failed.
Where was he? In the deserted club? Or had they moved hi to some other place, somewhere unreachable?
He groaned. Dee. He had to get a message to Dee. But how?
He must have passed out again. The next thing he knew, he’d been placed upright, strapped into some kind of chair. A bright, blue-tinged light shone in his face, blinding him.
His stomach dipped and clenched. For a moment he thought he might be sick.
“How are you?” A woman asked in a cultured, faintly-accented voice. “Feeling a bit weak?”
He didn’t deign to answer. This must be the infamous Natasha, scientist and Mick’s alleged girlfriend.
The creator of the machine that stole souls.
“So you’re a Fae prince?” She came closer, leaning into his field of vision. She wore her long, blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. In her mid-thirties, her dusky skin and almond shaped eyes gave her an exotic beauty. This was ruined only by the cruel twist of her full mouth.
Chapter Fifteen
CONFUSED, HE tried to summon up enough energy to question her. He couldn’t seem to string words together anymore to form a coherent sentence. So he attempted to frame his question in one word. “How?”
She smiled, flashing her perfect white teeth. “How’d I do it? Is that what you want to know?”
He tried to nod and failed. Watching him closely, she saw the tiny tremor of movement. Her smile widened. “I’ve been wanting to bask in my triumph, but Mick pooped out on my. Since you asked and you’re a captive audience, I’ll tell you.”
Maybe he could stall for time. “Start…” He licked his cracked lips and tried again. “Start
at the beginning.”
Eying him, she touched his face. “You’re the most beautiful one yet, you know. You want the entire story? Fine. I knew Mick’s friend Jack from our work – we’d met at one of those boring, scientific seminars. I was bored, he needed someone to talk to. When he got drunk, he started babbling about Faeries and magic and the man he loved. Despite my disbelief, I let him ramble. He spilled the entire sordid story. How he had contracted AIDs, how his disease was progressing faster than either he or his partner Mick wanted.”
Of their own will, Cenrick’s eyes drifted closed, the bright light repeating itself with dancing spots on his retina. If she kept zapping him so strongly, he wouldn’t be awake long enough to listen to her story.
Tapping her foot impatiently, she stopped talking. “Look at me, Cenrick of Rune.”
Though he honestly attempted to force his eyes open, he couldn’t. Mouth dry, he tried to speak instead. “Turn. Down. Machine.”
She laughed. “Too much for you, eh big boy?” Her heels tapped on the tile floor as she crossed the room.
A moment later, he felt a bit of his strength returning. Now, he could at least look at her again.
“Better?”
He nodded.
“Good. Because I want you to learn about your downfall, before I take your magic. Yours – and one other’s – should be the final cap on my power.”
Now that the power level had gone done, he could think again. He wanted to ask another question. He cleared his throat. “Where are we?”
“My house.” With a grin, she fingered his hair. “No one knows where I live, not even Mick.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
She patted his hand. “I’ll get to that in a minute. Now, where was I? Ah yes, with Jack in that Indiana conference center. When he started talking about Faeries and alternate realities, I thought he’d lost his mind. But Jack was – is – a well-respected scientist. NASA – where I worked – used him frequently for a consultant. So when he told me about magic, and how Mick was working on a machine to make Jack Fae, I knew I owed it to myself to at least check this out.”
Missing Magic Page 18