Marking your territory, Greer? You haven’t earned that right.
He responded by simply looking at me, and those invasive butterflies were back at work in the pit of my stomach, wreaking havoc on my sensibility.
He looked away and started covering the length of the room in long, powerful strides. The image of a tiger in a roadside circus came to mind, pacing in a cage too small for a dog. His shoulders rolled in an alternating piston motion as he contemplated the situation I wasn’t made privy of yet. When he finally stopped and looked at the three of us sitting on the sofa, he seemed completely relaxed and formidable at the same time. He’d worked through the curveball he was about to hurl at me, and the assurance in his expression was not lost when he locked his eyes on mine. My chest inflated roughly as I nodded in response.
“What’ve we got?” He kept his eyes on me a moment longer before averting them to Thomas.
Thomas pulled a cell phone from his pocket and tossed it at Greer. He caught it and looked at something on the screen. It seemed like an eternity as I waited to find out what was so fascinating on the phone. His breathing slowed until I could no longer see his chest move, and the color in his face paled. Just when I thought I might come out of my seat and take the damn thing from him, he spoke.
“Where was this found?” he asked without taking his eyes off the screen.
“128th Street,” Thomas said. “Rooftop.”
“They made sure we’d find it,” Loden added.
“Why do you say that?” Greer asked.
“Because we found this lying next to it.” Loden pulled a small object from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of us. It was a piece of metal shaped into something I didn’t recognize.
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on,” I said.
Loden looked at Greer for permission to speak freely, and I wondered if any of them did anything without the express consent of their master. Talk about indentured servitude. I certainly hoped he didn’t expect the same from me, because that was a deal breaker.
Greer nodded his approval.
“It’s an artifact. Part of a set,” Loden said. “We’ve been looking for it.”
“We recover and steward certain artifacts that hold significant esoteric properties,” Thomas explained. “This one’s minor compared to the amulet, but we’d sense it if it showed up in the city.”
“They knew we’d find it.” Loden said, “A small sacrifice to make sure we found the marker.”
“What’s in the picture?” I asked.
Greer put the cell phone on the table and slid it toward me. Whatever it was had fur and a pair of large black eyes.
“An animal?”
“Take another look.”
I turned the phone ninety degrees and realized I was looking at a large animal head. Blood pooled around the neck where it had been severed and then placed in an upright position on a pedestal. Across the top of the head was something written in red.
“It’s a stag,” Greer said.
“What’s on the head?” I managed to ask between urges to heave another round of breakfast.
“The mark of the Vargr,” Thomas added.
“The what?”
“It means—”
“The wolves are here,” Greer interjected.
I glanced past the three men convening around me and looked out the large window facing the street. The sleet was turning into big billowy balls of snow. I thought again about my mother’s story.
When will it snow, Mommy?
When the White Prince returns.
In my mother’s faerie tale, the White Prince was no ordinary boy. The White Prince was a wolf.
TWENTY-TWO
You’re scaring me, Greer.” Thomas and Loden left so Greer and I could have a private conversation. He picked up a stack of mail from the hall table and flipped through it as he told me about the number one threat to my life.
“The wolves are here for one reason. Their sole purpose is to get their hands on the amulet—and you.” He explained the threat with about as much compassion as a rock.
No surprise. I had a giant target on my back. Greer had already drilled that fact into my head, but today was an exceptionally bad day for digesting any new facts about what I was or who was trying to kill me next.
He informed me that the wolves had arrived in New York shortly after I did. I should have been an easy extraction for them, but Greer and his people had thrown up one hell of a fortress.
“So, Arthur Richmond might have been working for these people. These…Vargr?” I asked.
“It’s possible.”
“What about the man with the mark on his forehead? He knew my mother. Why would she be talking to the enemy in her own house?” I thought back to that night twenty some years ago when he threatened my mother in our living room.
“Alasdair Templeton,” Greer clarified. “He certainly did know your mother. He’s the high priest of the Fitheach coven.”
That night in Arthur Richmond’s office, I remembered the look in Greer’s eyes when he saw the face in the photograph my finger was pointing to.
“If Templeton was working with Arthur Richmond, he might have also been working with the wolves. Why would my mother’s high priest be working with the wolves?”
“As I said, it’s possible that Richmond was working with the Vargr, but I doubt it.” He leaned in to get a good look at my face, because the message he was about to deliver needed to be heard loud and clear. “The Vargr are exceptionally cunning and powerful. Arthur Richmond was a buffoon. They have no use or need for a man like that, and they don’t like to share.”
“If they’re so smart, why have they waited this long to come for me?”
“Because there’s one bad trait that keeps those dogs from getting their honorary Mensa cards—they rely too much on their noses.”
“Meaning?”
“They’re trackers. They can’t smell it on you. By the time they knew you were here, the amulet was long gone. Having it stolen probably saved your life. As long as they can’t smell it on you, you’re relatively safe.”
“So why the hell am I looking for it?”
He looked at me but didn’t respond, because we both knew the answer. It was a risk we both had to take. Mine, because my mother died trying to do what was right. This was her legacy, and whether or not I wanted it, it was now mine.
“The women at that Indian restaurant, were they wolves?”
“Witches,” he said. “Stupid ones. Every amateur in this city wants the amulet.”
“You just said the scent was gone. How did they know?”
Greer tossed the mail on the coffee table and turned to face me. “You really have no idea how popular you are, do you?”
“Popular? Where are we—high school?”
“Alex, you’re the fucking Prom Queen of the underworld. There isn’t a witch, wolf, faerie, troll, demon, you name it, that doesn’t know who you are. Let me ask you something. When you got off that plane last fall, what did you see?”
I thought about that morning—being followed, the stares from half the airport, the random comments from strangers. It was like they all knew me.
“They’re all just assuming you have it. The only ones smart enough to know it’s not on you are the wolves.”
Greer informed me that the bloody calling card left on 128th Street was official notice that the Vargr were now present in the city in full force. He also told me that their sole mission was to hunt the amulet down, and that they knew exactly where to find me once they had it.
“This isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” he said. “Whoever has the amulet has it damn well hidden.”
“And how is the presence of killer wolves gunning for my ass a good thing?”
“Maybe they’ll flush it out.”
“I see. Well, that just makes me feel so much better. Maybe you can stake me spread eagle on that rooftop as bait. God, Greer. You’re about as arrogant and selfish as
—”
He was on me in a second, pulling me against his sauna of a chest. “Everything I do,” he growled, “I do for the future of this world we all take for granted will be here tomorrow, and the day after that. If that involves putting myself—or you—in a precarious position, so be it.”
My chest was pounding, sending a painful rush of blood to and from the veins servicing my heart, filling my mouth with the taste of adrenaline. His hand relaxed and moved to the small of my back as his face stopped within an inch of mine. I turned my eyes away from his as our breathing synced. “This is precarious,” he whispered.
He let go, but kept his eyes on me for a moment before heading for the elevator.
“Who’s walking away now, Greer?” I followed him and grabbed his arm.
He glanced down at my fingers and then back up at my face. “If you want my attention, Alex, it’ll take more than a hand on my arm.”
“Why do you insist on always humiliating me?”
He peeled my hand from his arm and lifted it to his mouth to kiss the center of my palm. “Because you make it so damn easy.”
My breath caught from the feel of his lips on my skin, and I hated him for having so much power over me. “I’m not easy,” I whispered.
He let go of my hand and grabbed his keys from the porcelain bowl. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re not leaving me here by myself? After everything you just told me?”
“I’ll send over a babysitter,” he said without turning around. “I wouldn’t worry. The wolves won’t bother you without the amulet.”
“Then why bother sending anyone?” I sneered.
“Good point. I won’t.”
My jaw dropped as he pushed the call button and stepped into the elevator.
I curled up on the sofa with a book I really had no interest in. I must have stood in the hall for ten minutes after Greer left, thinking he’d walk back in and tell me he was kidding.
He didn’t.
Sophia wouldn’t be back until morning, and who knew if Greer was planning to pull another weeklong disappearing act. Two chapters in, I heard water running. The front door and elevator were in clear view, and no one had come through either.
I put the book down to check the kitchen. The faucet was off when I looked inside. Maybe I was just hearing things. Old houses did that—made funny noises and spooked you into seeing ghosts that weren’t there.
Shit.
Now I had to walk through every room in the house to make sure I was alone, or sit on the sofa like a scared baby, with a butcher knife in my hand, until someone came home.
I turned around and walked straight into the intruder.
“Jeez. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? How did you get in here?”
Leda bypassed the question. “Oh…you’re fine. No need to worry about monsters today, Alex.”
Greer had my ass covered after all. How sweet.
“So, what shall we do today?” she asked.
I glanced at the newspaper on the table. It was Wednesday. “I guess you don’t have a nine-to-five?”
“You mean a job? Why would I want one of those?”
“Oh…rent, food, clothes.”
Her face softened in that sympathetic way a mother reassures a child. “Honey, I’m rich. We all are.” She gestured around Greer’s palatial living room. “Where do you think all this comes from?”
“The club?”
“Crusades? It takes more than a bar to pay for a place like this."
She headed toward the kitchen. “Coffee?”
I decided not to push the subject. That would be rude and none of my business, unless the information was relevant to my situation. I thought about it and determined that it was relevant. I was living under Greer’s roof and had the right to know how my room and board was being funded.
“So, where does all this come from?” I repeated Leda’s gesture around the room.
“Let’s just say we have some powerful benefactors.”
“But—”
“Enough about money, Alex. What would you like to do today?” She grabbed the kettle just as it began to squeal and poured the hot water into the French press. That explained the running water.
“God, I need fresh air,” I said. “I just don’t know if I can.”
“Alex? Are you afraid to leave the house?”
I don’t know why this surprised her. Seemed like a reasonable fear, all things considered.
“You’re not afraid of those damn wolves, are you?”
“Well…yeah,” I muttered.
She set the two empty coffee mugs down as delicately as she would a pair of fine crystal glasses, her stony expression suggesting I’d said something stupid.
“Do you really think Greer is the only one who can protect you?” Her head tipped slightly to the right, and I saw for the first time a glimpse of the femme fatale inside. Her eyes fixed on mine as her bright green irises turned a shade of orange, not unlike what the color of Venus might look like in the center of all that atmosphere. But it was the way she suddenly crashed into my psyche, sending a vignette of fear through my mind, that made me realize I was seeing her for the first time. Leda had skills.
“You’re afraid of me.”
I didn’t respond, mostly because my vocal cords were frozen.
“Good.”
My mouth began to function again. “Should I be?”
“Yes.” Her brow arched. “But only if you’re one of the bad guys.” She leaned forward and kissed me softly on the mouth. “I’ll never do that to you again.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“The point is, Alex, any one of us can keep them away as long as you don’t do anything stupid like go after the amulet yourself. Don’t take this personally, but without it, you’re useless to them. Expensive overhead.”
“Good to know.”
“Besides, if there was an immediate threat, Greer would be glued to you. You wouldn’t be able to piss without him.”
I lost the urge to get out of the house and changed the subject so she wouldn’t insist on taking me out to prove her point. “So, what do you know about Constantine?”
“Con?” His name came out of her mouth in a short burst. “I know quite a bit about that satyr. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“I know that he’s arrogant. I also know that he thinks he owns this city. But if you really want to know what he’s all about, just look for the nearest whorehouse.”
“So it’s not just an act?”
She shook her head. “A satyr lives for one thing. Lucky for them there’s no shortage of women who live for satyrs.”
“Greer seems to hate him.”
She smirked. “They’re like a couple of old fools when they fight. My-dick’s-bigger-than-yours stuff. The problem with Con is that he knows too much. All satyrs are cocky and arrogant. Once they get you on their radar, you might as well kiss your privacy goodbye.”
“How so?”
“They’re voyeurs,” she said. “Fancy word, but a peeping tom is a peeping tom.”
“You mean—”
“Yes. Once a satyr has you in his sights, you might as well get used to him in your bed.”
“Am I in Constantine’s sights?”
“Alex, you are definitely in his sights.”
I got a mental image of Constantine spying on me. “I’ll kill that—”
“Don’t take it personal, Alex. He can’t help himself. That’s what satyrs do. They fuck, they watch…” She shrugged at the simplicity of a satyr’s sexual deviance. “Besides, Greer’s house is off limits. It’s warded. He can’t get in.”
So as long as I didn’t do anything remotely intimate outside of these walls, everything would be fine.
“He watched me for years,” she said. “Obsessed was more like it. He was a young beast. Wasn’t fully in control of his libido at the time.”
“And he is now?”
“He was a wild thing. You’v
e seen him, so you know how beautiful he is. Imagine all that with the hormones of Eros. Anyway, he whored his way around the world with the sole purpose of fucking as many women as possible, until he met me. I made the mistake of sleeping with him—once. He thought he owned me after that, but I was immune to his power.” She stopped and looked at me. “You haven’t let him kiss you, have you?”
“No.”
“Thank God for that.”
I took it as a warning. “I didn’t think satyrs were monogamous.”
“They aren’t, but just like a man, they expect their women to be.”
I was beginning to understand what Greer said to me about Constantine and his mind fucking.
“I was in bed with another man one night,” she continued. “Constantine couldn’t help himself. He materialized at the foot of the bed. I’m not sure what he thought was going to happen, but there he was, naked as a jaybird, and all he said was ‘Leda, get dressed.’”
“Why was he naked?”
“Honey, peacocks like to flaunt their feathers. I thought Greer was going to slaughter him. I mean, actually end his life.”
“Greer? Wait, you told me you and Greer—”
“You asked if we were currently sleeping together, not if we ever had. So the answer is no and yes.”
I put my hand up to stop her. “No, this really is none of my—”
“Business? You’re right, it isn’t. But I’d like to clear the air since you and I will be spending a lot of time together. Makes thing much neater, don’t you think?” She smiled. “I like you, Alex. And I want you to know that I will kill anything that tries to harm you. I’ll also never lie to you.”
“Morgan?” I asked, wondering if she had some legitimate reason to stake a claim.
“Never,” she confirmed.
TWENTY-THREE
One of the things I loved about living in Manhattan was the endless supply of things to do without going broke. You didn’t need money to window shop or people watch. I liked watching rich people shop and wondered what it felt like to want for nothing. Did they get the same high from buying a pair of Manolo Blahniks or a Birkin bag as us regular folks? Does a Rolex feel the same on their wrist as it does ours?
The Amulet Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 1) Page 20