by Keri Arthur
As he went outside, I looked at Ginny. “What do you think?”
“There’s definitely a darker edge to his output now,” she said. “And there’s certainly a whole lot more anger. I can’t pin either to a specific cause, though.”
“They could be a result of him just breaking up with someone he liked,” Mia said.
“Maybe.” Ginny wrinkled her nose. “If feels deeper than that. More disturbed than that. It’s … strange.”
“Yes, it is.” I crossed my arms and leaned on the table. “Which is why I’m going to follow him—”
“Not alone, you’re not,” Mia said instantly.
I glanced at her. “I’ve already had Mo and Luc telling me to be careful—I don’t need you getting overly protective as well.”
“Luc?” Mia’s gaze snapped between the two of us. “Who is this Luc you speak of? Or is he the man making Tris all unfriendly?”
“The latter,” Ginny said, before I could, “And apparently he’s as hot as all get out.”
“Then I obviously need an immediate introduction.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So all thoughts of a protection detail have now been abandoned?”
“Hell, no.” Mia’s grin flashed. “It just means I’ll be over there in the morning to check him out.”
“I take it,” Ginny said, “that the plan to follow Tris means you’re sleeping with him tonight?”
I shook my head. “There’s a theory he’s using me to get to Max. Until I know whether that’s true or not, he and I will not be hitting the sheets.”
Mia frowned. “Won’t that make him suspicious, given you literally bounced into his arms the other night?”
“It probably would if he was sticking around for the rest of this evening,” I said. “But I’m betting that call means he won’t.”
“If he is up to something,” Ginny said, “he’s going to notice a car tailing him, whether or not he knows it. People up to no good tend to be aware of such things.”
“Which is why I’ll be using one of Mo’s tracking charms. Once I attach it to his car, we can follow from a safe distance.”
“Your gran never ceases to amaze me,” Mia said. “She always seems to have an answer or a spell, no matter what the problem or situation.”
“According to her, it’s because she’s lived so long.”
“Trouble with that answer is, as a De Montfort, she’s not supposed to be able do half the things she does.”
Ginny’s voice was dry, and I grinned. “Apparently, no one ever advised her of this fact.”
“Tris is coming back,” Mia warned softly, “and, judging by the look on his face, the evening is indeed about to end.”
“Sorry, ladies.” Tris stopped behind his chair. “That was work with an urgent job. Gwen, do you want a ride home?”
I hesitated and glanced at Ginny and Mia.
“Go,” Mia said. “We’ll catch up later.”
I rose and grabbed my coat off the chair. Tris got his wallet out and dumped some cash on the table. “Just in case you think I’m trying to run out on you ladies without paying the bill again.”
“I would never think that about you, Tris. Honestly.”
He gave Mia a wry look. “Say that with a little more sincerity, and I might just believe you.”
She chuckled softly. “Don’t work too hard.”
“Never do.” He helped me into my coat, and then motioned me to precede him. I slung my handbag over my shoulder, shivering as the night air hit. At least it had stopped raining.
“Where are you parked?”
“Just down the road.”
Once we got to his car, he opened the door and helped me in. As he moved around to the driver side, I popped the charm out of the casing and quickly slipped it under the seat. It clipped onto something, suggesting it was magnetic.
He pulled out of the parking spot and made his way quickly through the streets. The bookstore was dark, but I had no idea if that meant Luc wasn’t there. If he could manipulate darkness, he could probably see very easily in it.
“Your guest not staying tonight?” Tris asked, in a voice that tried to be casual but didn’t quite succeed.
“Damned if I know—he’s not my guest.” I leaned across the center console and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Keep warm tonight.”
His smile certainly held little enough of it. “I’ll ring soon.”
“No problem.” I climbed out, shivering as a blast of cold air caught the ends of my coat and tugged them wide. I’d barely closed the car door when Tris zoomed off. Obviously, his job was an urgent one. I opened the front door, and stepped inside.
“Luc, you here?”
There was no response, so I sent a message to Ginny, telling her I was home. Then I grabbed the tracking receiver, which happened to be a very old iPhone. Usually spells and technology did not play well together, but Mo had a knack for doing things others thought impossible. I switched on the phone; after several runs of magical static, the screen came to life. It showed a basic street map with a green dot moving steadily away.
Lights swept across the dark street outside. I waited until Mia’s small white Fiesta stopped, then exited the shop, slammed the door shut, and jumped into the back seat.
“Where to?” Mia said.
“Straight ahead.”
Ginny twisted around in her seat. “The tracker uses an iPhone? Your gran could make a mint selling that sort of thing to the partners of cheats the world over.”
I smiled. “Because she really needs the money. Left at the next street.”
“Hey, a good cash flow never goes astray. And maybe if Tris had one, he wouldn’t be up to no good.”
Something within me doubted it would have made any difference—at least not now. He was too set in his ways, too used to scrimping and saving and sometimes even stealing to get what he wanted. His parents had never been truly harsh or ungiving, but they certainly hadn’t pandered to his desires as they had his brothers.
We continued to follow the soft green blip, eventually leaving Ainslyn behind and heading out on the M62.
“You think we’re heading toward Manchester?” Mia said, after a while.
“At this stage, who knows?”
“I think the more important question is, what are we going to do once he does get to his destination?” Ginny said. “We’re too far behind him to have any chance of finding him if he goes inside somewhere.”
“What we need is something personal of his,” Mia said. “Like hair. I could use it to pin his whereabouts.”
Mia’s magic was of the general kind, which meant she used actual spells and drew on personal strength to bring them to life. Like many Lancasters, she’d learned her craft under the tutelage of her parents, rather than going to any sort of witch university. It was also why her parents now ran pubs rather than relying on their spellcraft for income. Personal magic always took a toll on its creator, and it was rare to find anyone over fifty offering spell services.
“The only way I’m likely to get something personal is to go back to the hotel with him—and I’m not keen on doing that right now.”
“Understandably,” Ginny said. “But you do have a Blackbird in your midst, and he could certainly get in and out of the hotel room without detection.”
“True.” I glanced down at the iPhone as it beeped. Tris had stopped. “Take the next exit.”
“Ordsell? What the hell is in Ordsell?” Mia asked.
“That,” Ginny said, ever practical, “is hopefully what we’re about to find out.”
After a few more turns, we found his car in the crowded parking lot behind McDonald’s.
“He can’t be hungry—not after everything he ate tonight.”
“The man has got a really good appetite, and not just for food,” I said blandly, and ducked away from Ginny’s slap with a laugh.
“I did not need to know that,” she said. “What do we do now? We can’t go in—he’ll see us.”
“Yes.” I twisted around. Tris had parked in a back bay underneath one of the light poles. He obviously wasn’t afraid of anyone spotting him. “I might shift shape and go over. He’s not going to notice a blackbird hanging onto the guttering and peering in through the top of the windows.”
“Probably not, but keep away from the really well-lit areas.”
I nodded and climbed out of the car, shivering once again as the cold air hit. After quickly shifting, I flew across and settled on the roof. No one appeared to take any interest in me, so I strutted forward, gripped the edge of the gutter with my claws, and then peered over the edge, spreading my wings and flapping lightly to maintain balance.
The place was packed with late-night patrons, and I couldn’t immediately see him.
I flew across to the roadside edge and repeated the process. Still nothing. Maybe he’d simply dumped his car here and walked to his destination.
Hoping that wasn’t the case, I tried the KFC side of the building, and finally spotted him. He was talking to a slender, black-haired man who had his back to me. I shuffled along a little, trying to get a glimpse of the stranger’s face, but the angle was wrong. He was, however, right on trend clothes-wise, wearing brown-black commando boots that had probably never seen any terrain other than the sidewalk, black jeans, and a brown leather bomber jacket that had a darker brown patch on the right elbow.
My pulse rate stalled, and then zoomed up several notches.
My brother had bought exactly the same jacket only a few weeks ago.
Seven
It couldn’t possibly be Max.
He was in Paris, not Ordsell.
Besides, there were probably tons of people who owned the same jacket, given how reverently Max followed fashion trends.
But the only way to be sure was to get closer … and to do so without being spotted by either man. I looked over my shoulder. Now that I knew their position, I might be able see them through the windows on the other side of the restaurant. It was worth a try, even though the place was crowded.
I padded across the rooftop and peered down over the gutter again. Unfortunately, there were several tall men sitting at the table directly in front of Tris’s, and I couldn’t see anything more than the stranger’s dark hair and his somewhat blurry forehead. I swore and edged sideways, but the result was the same. Tris had positioned himself very carefully indeed. There was nothing I could do now but hope they weren’t settling in for a long discussion—especially since—in my experience, anyway—feathers didn’t provide all that much protection against the bitterness of the wind.
Mo would definitely have called me soft.
The minutes slipped by. I shifted from one foot to the other, huddling closer to the D in the McDonald’s sign in an effort to keep a little warmer. After a while, the doors below opened and then Tris said, “I’ll go pick her up now and update you tomorrow.”
I didn’t hear the reply because it was too damn soft. Frustrated, I took to the sky and flew high enough to see them both without being obvious. The stranger strode toward a silver Volkswagen Golf, which at least eased my fears. Max wouldn’t be caught dead in such an ordinary little car.
I swung around in an attempt to get a better look at his face, but it remained blurred. He had to be using some sort of magic to conceal his features, even if I couldn’t immediately see any spell strings. But maybe I wouldn’t—there were plenty of short-term charms capable of achieving a blurry effect without having to resort to bigger magic.
I circled around, undecided what I should do next. The stranger was obviously involved in whatever was going on and had to be a target, but I couldn’t let Tris go either …
I swore again and flew across to Mia’s Fiesta. Once Tris had driven out of the parking lot, I shifted shape and opened the car door.
“Was he meeting anyone?” Ginny immediately said.
“Yes, but there was some kind of magic being employed to blur his face.” I reached in, grabbed my handbag, and then handed her the tracker. “I’m going to follow the stranger—can you two keep tailing Tris and see what he’s up to?”
“Sure.” Ginny activated the screen and waited for the green dot to appear. “If anything drastic happens, I’ll message.”
“Just be careful,” I said.
“That’s my middle name,” Mia said cheerfully.
I snorted. “Meet me back at the store later.”
“No matter what the time? Because it could be late, depending on what he’s doing.”
I hesitated. “If it’s after midnight, just drop the tracker back at the shop. I’ll need it tomorrow—which reminds me, if Mo doesn’t get home in time to open up tomorrow morning, would one of you be able to hold the fort until she does?”
“Happy to,” Mia said. “Especially if the gorgeous man will be hanging about.”
“That is an unknown.”
“Better than absolutely not.” Her smile faded. “Be careful, Gwen.”
I nodded, then slammed the door shut and stepped back as they left. Across the road, the Volkswagen’s lights came on. I shifted shape and flew high, circling lazily as the stranger left the parking lot and drove toward Manchester. Eventually, he swung onto the motorway and then onto the M6, where his speed increased. I managed to keep him in sight for almost two hours—mostly by flying in a straight line rather than following the motorway’s twists and turns. In the end, I had to quit. Few birds could fly at full speed for more than one hundred kilometers; I might be stronger than the average blackbird thanks to the fact some human strength did carry over in the change, but I also had to keep enough in reserve to fly home. I dipped low enough to catch the number plate, then turned and headed home at a far slower pace. I was barely halfway there when a storm swept in. It made flying bloody horrid.
It was well after midnight by the time I reached Ainslyn. I shifted shape and dropped down the last foot or so to the pavement, but my legs gave way and I stumbled forward, grabbing at the edge of the window frame to save myself but ending up on my knees anyway. For several minutes, I didn’t have the strength to move. The rain soaked through my clothes and chilled my skin, and my breath wheezed in and out of burning lungs. Every inch of me shook, and my arms were all but numb. Overhead, lightning flashed; a heartbeat later, the sky rumbled ominously. The night was about to get a whole lot worse. I needed to get up; needed to get inside and warm up. A dram or two of whiskey wouldn’t go astray either …
The front door opened and then Luc said, “What the hell …?”
I sucked in more air and glanced up. “How the fuck did you get in?”
“Your grandmother told me where the spare key was.”
“Which was on the roof of a three-story building and you can’t fly.”
“You’re seriously going to have this conversation in the middle of a damn storm? You really are certifiable, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m just—”
The rest of that sentence gave way to a yelp as he stepped forward and somehow lifted me into his arms from my kneeling position.
I didn’t struggle. I didn’t have the energy. And yet I felt obliged to offer a token protest. “I can walk—”
“Looked like it.”
“Seriously, just put me down—”
“When we’re upstairs.”
“Luc—”
“Shut up, woman, and just relax.”
I shut up, but I didn’t relax. He felt too damn good—too damn warm and strong—for my own good. Relaxing into him would be like putting cake in front of me and then telling me not to eat it. It was simply impossible.
After kicking the door shut, he headed up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the shadowed silence and his breath remaining even. I was no lightweight, so it spoke volumes about his strength. He deposited me in the bathroom, his fingers warm and steady on my aching arms while I found some strength and locked my knees into position.
“Shower and warm up,” he said. “I’ll go put on the kettle.”
&nb
sp; “I think something stronger will be needed. Lace a hot chocolate with a good dash of whiskey.”
He shuddered. “Seriously? There should be a law against combinations like that.”
“You, dear Blackbird, obviously haven’t lived.”
“If living is partying on such a waste of good whiskey, then no, I haven’t. Got your land legs now?”
I nodded, waited until the door was shut, then leaned wearily against it and closed my eyes. I really, really, wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep, but Luc needed to know about tonight’s events.
I swung my purse off my shoulder and pulled out my phone. There was a text from Ginny that detailed what Tris had done after I’d left them—which, apparently, was pick up a woman and take her to a small brick factory that had no signage or anything else to indicate what was inside. He left without her twenty minutes later via the front door of the pub next door and then headed back to his hotel, where he picked up a different woman. She sent me the factory’s address, apologized for not leaving the tracker, and said Mia would be at the shop by eight thirty.
I sent them both a quick thank-you, then placed my phone onto the vanity and hit the shower. Running the hot water out didn’t do a whole lot to ease the ache in my limbs.
After pulling on pants and a warm sweater, I shoved my feet into slippers and headed downstairs. Luc was standing in front of the stove, stirring the contents of a small pot. Hecate was visible and resting against the nearby fridge. He looked up as I appeared and then did something of a double take.
“What are those?” He made a vague motion toward my feet, and I grinned.
“Zombie slippers—aren’t they awesome?”
“That’s certainly one description—not one I’d use, mind you.” He motioned toward the sofa. “Sit. The abomination you requested is almost ready.”
I tucked one leg under and plonked down. “How bad was the break-in?”
“No major destruction this time, although some of the books in the library appear to have been thrown.”
“They were frustrated because they didn’t find what they were looking for.”