Mercenary

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “You said Jeff mentioned a hallucinogen. Was that an assumption based on Roger’s reaction, or is that sort of attack common?”

  “I know it sounds extreme, but in my husband’s line of work, it’s one of the most effective attacks someone can use. His business is bound to his reputation, he can’t have one without the other.” Barbara’s mouth tightened. “If one of his competitors could make him appear unstable, no one would work with him—especially the government. Certainly no one would trust him with their secrets. Hallucinogens also lead to paranoia, which makes it more difficult to analyze a true threat, thus leaving the victim vulnerable.”

  Hallucinogens were also a very common explanation given when someone witnessed the Otherworld, I noted to myself. Out loud I said, “Did Jeff say he saw the needle, or a mask, anything they might have used to deliver the hallucinogen? Or was he extrapolating based on what Roger was shouting, or his behavior?”

  “He didn’t specify, but it’s not like Jeff to make assumptions.”

  “If he was attacked with a drug, then there should have been evidence of that in his blood.”

  “Ian is still testing it,” Barbara admitted. “So far he hasn’t found anything. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. When it comes to new drugs, military companies are often ahead of the pharmaceutical industry. Ian said he would keep running tests.”

  I hesitated. “Barbara, I need to ask you a few questions. You’ll be tempted to be defensive. Please answer as honestly as you can and remember, I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help.”

  Her jaw tightened, but she nodded stiffly.

  “Has your husband ever used drugs recreationally?”

  “No,” she said shortly. “He says drugs are for hippies.”

  I smiled. “Okay. Is there any history of mental illness in his family? Any ‘eccentric’ relatives who may or may not have been diagnosed?”

  “No. Roger’s family is as straight-laced as they come. Most of them served in the military—men and women—so they were all formally assessed psychologically, and they all received a clean bill of health.”

  “Did Roger ever consider entering the service?”

  “Yes, but he has asthma, so he couldn’t serve.”

  Now that I’d asked the questions she’d no doubt expected, it was time to move to the next level. “Is your husband superstitious?”

  The speed with which Barbara shut down was impressive for a human. All emotion drained from her face, leaving her expression cool and significantly less friendly than a moment ago. “Excuse me?”

  I reached for my magic, weaving the purple threads of a charm into my voice before speaking again. “I know it sounds like a silly question. But it’s important. It’s the little things that give us insight into someone’s thought process.” I leaned closer. “If he has been acting strange lately, who’s to say it’s not an after-effect of the drugs? Ian hasn’t found the specific cocktail yet, so who knows what the lasting effects may be?”

  There, now she could blame any weird behavior on drugs. As I’d expected, Barbara relaxed.

  “He wasn’t superstitious before the attack. But since then he’s…been acting strangely.”

  I nodded encouragingly. “In what way?”

  Barbara hesitated, then sighed. “He hung garlic near the doors and windows. And he’s been wearing silver chains and putting his underwear on backwards.”

  I resettled my napkin in my lap, taking the opportunity to look at Peasblossom. The pixie met my eyes, and we shared a moment of understanding. It sounded like Roger had gotten a glimpse of the Otherworld—and a scary one at that. The fact that his brain hadn’t been able to un-see it, hadn’t been able to explain it away, suggested he’d gotten a better look than most. Enough to make him believe.

  Barbara seemed more on edge now, so I didn’t question her too much on Roger’s strange behavior. Based on his scattered approach—covering vampires, werewolves, and fey all at once—I guessed he didn’t know exactly what he’d seen anyway.

  “So we need more information about the tip, who provided it and who it concerned. And we need to find Jeff. First we need to find out where the incident happened.” I tapped a finger on the table. “Did you check his cell phone?”

  “Ian did, the night he came to calm Roger down,” Barbara said. “There were no texts, and the calls he didn’t recognize all came from disposable phones.” She paused. “Disposable phones are not as suspicious as you might think. It’s very common in Roger’s line of work. I have two of them myself.”

  “Have you reported Jeff missing to the authorities?”

  Barbara shook her head. “Ian is looking for him. Right now, I have to consider the possibility that someone is trying to discredit my husband. I don’t want any of this situation going public until…” she trailed off.

  I nodded in understanding. “Until Roger’s temperament has evened out.”

  Barbara looked relieved. “Yes. Yes, exactly. Right now, his behavior could be misinterpreted. If someone is trying to steal his job, I don’t want to make it any easier for them.”

  The fact that she hadn’t called the police yet either indicated that she had a great deal of faith in Ian’s ability to find Jeff, or she cared more about her husband’s job than his best friend. I filed that away to probe later.

  “If this is someone trying to take his job, do you have any idea who it might be? Are there any other…executive consultants in the area that have expressed an interest in Roger’s position?”

  “It’s not a common occupation,” Barbara said thoughtfully. “Well, maybe closer to D.C.” She frowned. “Actually, now that you mention it, there is someone. Charbel Nassir. He and his brother Aaban own a private military company called Scoria Security. Aaban is the head of the company while his brother focuses on providing executive consulting services to a select group of clients and running their charity, Fire in the Heart. He and his brother moved here recently from D.C., and we’ve heard chatter that the charity is funded by people Charbel provides executive consulting services for.”

  “And you think Charbel might be after Roger’s job?”

  “I’m not sure. From what I’ve heard, Charbel mostly restricts his services to Scoria Security and their clients. But it’s possible he might be looking to expand his services.”

  “Have you met them?”

  “Yes. Roger and I met both brothers at a Fire in the Heart charity event two weeks ago. Aaban spoke to Roger at length.”

  “About a contract?” I guessed.

  She nodded. “Aaban is new to the area, and he was very keen for Roger to test him.”

  “Test him?”

  “It’s part of what Roger does,” Barbara explained. “When a new company wants to compete for a government contract, Roger will give them an assignment designed to test their skills. Usually, it’s a small job for someone in the private sector. If the company does well, Roger will recommend them for consideration.”

  “And was Roger considering giving him a test mission?”

  “He was. Especially when Ms. Monet, the proprietor of Suite Dreams, spoke up in favor of Scoria Security. Ms. Monet is a very familiar face in the political scene here in Cleveland, and she carries a great deal of influence.”

  My blood ran cold, and I groped for my soda, trying to buy myself a second to collect my scrambled thoughts. Ms. Monet. As in, Arianne Monet. As in the dream sorceress who wanted me dead.

  Perfect.

  I drank half the soda, then pushed it away. “Considering your close relationship with Ian, were you at all surprised when Roger agreed to give Aaban’s company a chance? I would imagine the competition for government contracts is quite fierce.”

  “It is,” Barbara agreed. “But Roger has to be fair, friendship with Ian or not. And Mr. Nassir’s company has an impressive record.”

  “Not too impressive I hope?” a male voice spoke up.

  I turned in my seat in time to see a man enter the dining room. His pale brown h
air was cut close to the sides and in the back, but it was long on top, combed immaculately from left to right with only a single lock of hair hanging in the middle of his forehead to ruin the perfect line. A beard covered his jaw, long enough that I was sure he hadn’t just neglected to shave for a week, but not so long as to look unkempt. He wore a business suit, but his jacket hung open, and he’d left the first two buttons of his shirt unfastened.

  “Ian,” Barbara said, her voice warm.

  “Barbara,” he greeted her, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “Forgive my interruption.”

  “Not at all, please sit down.” Barbara raised a hand to get Molly’s attention and the waitress immediately came through the doors with her notepad ready. “Molly, bring Ian some tea—extra honey.”

  I flailed to grab hold of Peasblossom under the table before she could take off, catching her by one tiny foot and giving her a firm tug back to the seat.

  “Ian, this is Shade. She’s an executive consultant in the field of psychology.”

  Ian glanced at me as if Mrs. Temple had brought along a yappy little dog tucked into her purse. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone with that job description. What exactly do you do?”

  “I assess individuals to gain a better understanding of their current stressors for the purpose of easing anxiety and increasing productivity,” I said smoothly. Peasblossom jerked against my grip, and I clenched my teeth, trying to hold my smile in place.

  Barbara twirled a bite of linguine. “I’m asking her to look into Roger’s behavior.”

  Ian sighed and leaned back in the booth. “He’s still behaving strangely then?”

  “Very. It might be a residual effect of the attack, or it might be something more. I can’t afford to wait and find out, I need to know now.” She nodded to me. “If Ms. Renard can find out why Roger’s paranoia has taken this specific form, then perhaps we can address the root of the problem. We can only keep what happened a secret for so long before someone comes snooping around, and I don’t want them to catch my husband making gestures against the evil eye.” She huffed out a breath. “And I’m tired of my entire house smelling of garlic.”

  “This has been hard on you, I know.” Ian patted her hand, but there was no condescension in the gesture, just an acknowledgment that sometimes a friendly touch was more comforting than words. “And I hate to add to the load on your shoulders, but you know I would never lie to you. You wanted to know if we found anything, so I have to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “We found Jeff’s car.”

  Barbara bolted upright, almost upsetting Molly’s tray as she arrived with the tea. Molly’s eyes widened as she stumbled, trying to right the tray before spilling the hot water.

  “I’m sorry,” Barbara mumbled, her eyes locked on Ian.

  “No harm done.” Molly set the tea in front of Ian. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, we’re fine.”

  The strain in Barbara’s voice was obvious, and Molly nodded quickly before retreating back to the kitchen. As soon as she left, Ian leaned closer to Barbara.

  “We found his car near a junkyard on the west side. There was a lot of blood on the driver’s seat,” he said quietly.

  Barbara paled. “He was injured.”

  “Badly.”

  Barbara leaned on him for just a moment, accepting a kiss on top of her head. “Ian, you have to find him. Roger can’t handle bad news. Not like this, not right now.”

  Something caught my peripheral vision, and I glanced down to see Scath staring at Ian, frozen as if she’d turned into a canine statue. Her nostrils flared, and she tilted her large head up to look at me. For a split second, I caught a glimpse of glowing green eyes through the glamour spell.

  I dragged my attention to my food, careful not to look at Ian lest he catch me staring. With one hand twirling my fork through my cooling pasta, I used my other hand to reach into the pouch, fumbling until I found what I was looking for. A cylinder of iron shavings. I popped the top with my thumb and reached one finger inside to touch the metal filings, simultaneously glancing up at Ian Walsh.

  Ian’s face wavered, and when it cleared, it was even more perfect. The errant lock of hair dangling over his forehead vanished, once more tucked into his impeccably combed hair. And his eyes glowed with a hint of emeralds.

  I froze. Ian wasn’t human.

  He was sidhe.

  Chapter 5

  I put a forkful of linguine in my mouth, ignoring the lump in my throat that might keep me from swallowing. Ian was watching me. I could feel his stare like a physical weight. I didn’t know if he felt the iron, or if he’d noticed my reaction, but either way, he knew I knew.

  I forced the food down, then met his eyes. Under the table, I fumbled to get the cork back into the cylinder to seal off the iron filings before letting it fall back into the pouch. Keeping it out would be too close to a threat, and I didn’t want to give Ian any reason to defend himself. Beside me on the floor, Scath watched Ian with the same amount of interest Peasblossom gave vegetables. Some of the tension eased from my shoulders.

  “This is delicious,” I said to Barbara. “But I have a great deal to do today, so I’m going to get started. When can I meet with Roger?”

  Barbara finished another bite of her dinner and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I’ll call you within the hour. I need to speak with Roger when I get home. His recent anxiety has made it…challenging to arrange meetings with new people.”

  “I’ll make myself available for whatever time you can arrange.” I smiled at Ian, letting a hint of the witchy look tease my eyebrows. “It was lovely to meet you, Ian.”

  “I should go as well,” Ian said. “I’ll walk you out.” He patted Barbara’s hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t have better news. Do you want me to tell Roger?”

  “No. You found his car, but no body. There’s still hope. I’m not telling him anything until there’s something definite to say.”

  Ian nodded. “Of course. And we’ll keep looking.”

  Ian smiled at her, then got out of the booth and gestured for me to walk ahead of him. His gaze lingered on Scath, but only for a second. I took a final sip of my soda, giving Peasblossom time to crawl into the pouch, then gave him a polite smile and slid out of the booth. The bodyguards didn’t look at us as we passed, but I felt their stares follow me out.

  There were only three vehicles in the restaurant’s parking lot. One was a silver SUV I guessed was Barbara’s—plenty of room for the bodyguards—and a smart dark blue sports car that had to be Ian’s. The remaining vehicle was a grey Ford Focus that looked exactly like my car back in Dresden. I frowned, wondering if it was a bad thing that Flint seemed to be duplicating my vehicle and furniture from my home. How long did he expect me to stay in Cleveland?

  “Thank you for walking me to my car,” I said lightly. Magic slid against my palm as I held a spell ready, just in case. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Ian planted a hand on my door, barring me from opening it. “What are you doing here?”

  I let go of my door handle and turned to face him, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “I’m here because Barbara is worried about her husband’s reputation. She wants my help to find out what’s causing his anxiety.”

  “I think we both know what’s causing his anxiety.” Ian straightened, dropping his hand from my door. “Someone from the Otherworld is trying to undermine Roger. And apparently they decided the best way to do that would be to give him a good look at a real monster. A monster that in all likelihood killed his best friend.”

  “Why would someone in the Otherworld want to hurt Roger?” I asked.

  Ian shook his head. “None of this concerns you. Do yourself a favor and tell Barbara you can’t help her. Go back to Dresden.”

  I stiffened. “How did you know I’m from Dresden?”

  “Don’t look so concerned. Mr. Winters occasionally finds a need for my company’s services, and it so happens that your very brief employment with
him was one such occasion.”

  I blinked. “You did my background check?”

  “For what it was worth. You’ve done little in this world that seemed noteworthy.”

  I bristled, but he continued before I could give him a piece of my mind.

  “Based on what I know of you, I’m sure you won’t heed my warning not to meddle in this case. Come to Goodfellows at noon tomorrow. In the unlikely event you discover something of use, you can share it then.”

  My temper flared and I clenched my teeth. “I will not—”

  He took a step closer, invading my personal space. “Until we speak again tomorrow, remember this. Trust no one. Question every loyalty, question every reputation. You’re not looking for a thief, you’re looking for someone with a lot to lose. Someone who will do anything to protect their interests. Not their life, their interests.” He stepped back. “You’re in a new world now.”

  He turned without another word, an almost regal dismissal that summed up most of what I hated about the sidhe. Arrogance, pure arrogance.

  I opened my car door, but didn’t get inside, instead watching Ian return to his own vehicle. I’d been right about the blue sports car. Scath crawled past me into the car, shouldering her way into the backseat. Together we watched Ian pull out of the parking lot and disappear into traffic.

  I picked up the GPS, ignoring Peasblossom’s squeak of protest as I found the address I needed.

  “Suite Dreams? We’re going to Suite Dreams?”

  “We have a politician who swears he saw monsters and is suffering from nightmares. We know he was at Suite Dreams, and we know Arianne was trying to convince him to give Scoria Security an opportunity to earn a government contract.” I squirmed in my seat. “I’m not happy about it either, but you know we need to talk to her.”

  “But do we have to talk to her first?” Peasblossom demanded.

  “Better the devil you know.”

  “We don’t even know what happened that night,” Peasblossom protested. “Shouldn’t we talk to Roger first? How will you know what questions to ask?”