“It was something to calm him.” My words came out slurred, not a great sign. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds as I breathed in for seven and out for eight. “I’m here to help you, and Roger. I’m telling you, this is a misunderstanding. I will get to the bottom of this. I’ll find out what Roger saw, what scared hi—”
“You must be insane if you think I’ll trust one word out of your mouth after what you did. You’re fired. What’s more, you’ll pay for this deception. Ian will test that bottle, he will find out what you did. And know this, Ms. Renard. If Roger dies, you die.”
The sound of the doorbell interrupted her. She growled. “Make all the noise you want, the room is soundproof. If by some chance you do manage to make a noise, I’ll shoot your dog first.” The light cut out, leaving me in complete darkness.
I reminded myself that Barbara was human, and she was scared. I couldn’t blame her for lashing out. After a minute of silence when it was clear Barbara had gone, Peasblossom zipped out from behind my neck and hovered in the air in a buzzing ball of pink, glowing fury.
“She hit you!”
“Peasblossom, look around. We need to find a way out of here.”
The pixie hovered for a second, torn. “She needs a smack of her own.”
“She called Ian. If he’s involved in that binding, we need to make sure he doesn’t decide to end Roger for good. Where’s Scath?”
Peasblossom huffed and landed on Scath’s head. The black feline stared at me with that expressionless face of hers, apparently unconcerned. About anything.
“Can you follow Roger?” I asked her. “Stay with him and make sure no one tries to hurt him?”
Scath stood and retreated into the corner where Peasblossom’s soft light didn’t quite reach. I waited. “Scath?”
Peasblossom flew into the corner. Scath was gone.
“You think she went with Roger, or just left?” Peasblossom asked.
“I think she went with him,” I said, trying to sound more positive than I felt. I paused. “But I still get the feeling she doesn’t like me.”
“She’s saved your life twice, what more proof do you need?”
I let the subject go. “All right, so that’s Roger taken care of. Now we need to focus on getting out of here ourselves.”
Following a hunch, I parted the coats and knocked on the back wall. It sounded solid. I felt along the edges, probing for a crack, or a lever, or a button, something that might indicate the rear wall would give way and allow escape.
I bit my lip and stepped back, then raised a hand. Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head and face, I called my magic. “Secretum ostium.”
Power pulsed outward from my hand, tendrils of bright silver slithering over the rear wall of the large closet and down onto the floor. A second later, the light flared, and the magic sank into the shape of a rectangle at my feet. I smiled. “Gotcha.”
I bent and felt along the glowing silver lines with my fingers, probing the floor until I found something that felt like a dent. I frowned. It didn’t seem like enough to be a handle, but the magic pulsed, insisting. I pulled at it, shuffling back as I pulled open the trapdoor.
With a flex of my will, I sent the dancing lights down into the hole, revealing a short ladder to a small, but not quite claustrophobic tunnel. I listened for any hint of footsteps outside my closet, but didn’t hear anything. I climbed down the ladder and pulled the trapdoor closed behind me.
The short hallway spilled into another small room. This one, interestingly enough, was a well-stocked wine cellar. I arched an eyebrow at the rows of wine. The wine cellar had a normal door, no hidden entryways, so I turned the knob slowly before easing it open. The other side of the door blended in with the wall.
“Secret on the outside,” I noted.
I was in the basement, and there were no convenient windows or outside-entry doors offering a chance at escape.
I crept up the stairs and listened at the door. No footsteps, no voices. I eased it open, then closed it gently behind me. Careful not to make any noise, I snuck through the kitchen, holding my breath as I passed the study.
The average response time for a human ambulance in Cleveland was eight minutes, thanks to the purchase of two new EMS vehicles at the end of last year. However, even with the two extra vehicles, no human ambulance could hope to compete with the Otherworld. The Vanguard ran their own EMS services, the theory being that making sure a member of the Vanguard was first on the scene at any magically-inflicted ailment or wound was the best way to make sure they were the first to know about potential Otherworld threats. With vehicles loaded down with luck spells, Otherworld EMS not only had the benefit of all green lights, they were usually coincidentally close to the scene when they received a call. They averaged a four minute response time.
Part of me had hoped that Kylie would be one of the Otherworlders working EMS today, but the female bent over the unconscious Roger wasn’t the blonde half-ghoul. This woman was slender, with dark hair and darker skin. Almond shaped eyes flicked to the entrance of the study, and for a second I hid around the corner, not daring to breathe. She quickly returned her attention to her patient, and I didn’t press my luck.
Peasblossom tugged on my hair, and I crossed the hallway and made my way to the kitchen. There had to be a door there that would lead to the attached garage I’d seen when I arrived. There.
I let myself into the garage and paused, looking at the window that faced the house. I had a good view of the front door from here, and the ambulance parked in front of it. As I watched, EMS rolled Roger’s gurney into the back of the waiting vehicle. I didn’t see Scath, but I trusted her to follow him.
There was no sign of Barbara at the front door. My heart pounded harder. I’d have felt a lot better if I knew where she was. As soon as the ambulance pulled away, I opened the door that led outside from the garage. Blessedly, no alarm sounded. I tensed, ready to make a run for my car.
A pebble struck me in the stomach. Well, it felt like a pebble. My first clue that it was something else came when my body stopped listening to me, and I hit the driveway, hard, only two steps from the door. I lay there, staring up at the night sky, trying to figure out what had just happened. Gradually, I became away of a burning sensation above my right hip. A scratchy, burning that spread outward from the spot where I thought a pebble hit me.
“Shade!” Peasblossom shrieked.
I thought I passed out, but it was hard to tell when I was staring at a black sky anyway. Peasblossom shrieked over and over, and at some point she must have used her stabilization spell. At least, I assumed she had. Otherwise I was pretty sure that bullet—and I was reasonably certain I had been shot—would have killed me. Maybe. I’m a witch, it’s hard to say.
“Mother Renard, this is not how I’d hoped to find you.”
Ian stood over me. Someone had turned on the light over the garage, and I could see his face in all its sidhe glory. He really was handsome. Unblemished skin, tousled brown hair. He didn’t have the raw sex appeal Flint did, but he was pretty enough I wanted to touch him.
Apparently, I gave into the urge. His eyebrows rose in surprise as I touched his jaw, drew a finger over the dimple in his cheek.
“Barbara, stay back,” Ian said, keeping his voice low. “The EMS said they were taking him to Borvo Springs, I’ve texted you the address. You should go now. The last thing you need right now is for anyone to get hold of a story about you shooting a woman in your driveway.”
“Is she dead?”
Barbara’s voice was ice cold, and I had the distinct impression she’d like the answer to be yes.
“Go, Barbara, let me take care of this. What were you thinking shooting her with the EMS halfway down the driveway?”
“She tried to kill Roger. She fooled me, she fooled Flint. She’s a professional, and I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision in time to read Ian’s expression when she m
entioned Flint. It was no use, the world was a blurry blob of night sky.
“Just go, I’ll handle this,” Ian said finally.
“I have to see to the cameras.”
“I’ll delete the footage, you go see to Roger.”
Angry footsteps stomped to a car on the other side of the garage. An engine roared to life and I listened to Barbara exit her driveway. Even her car sounded mad.
“She doesn’t like me,” I whispered. I closed my eyes. Wait, no. I didn’t close my eyes. That would be the fading in and out of consciousness bit.
“Mother Renard. Shade. Listen to me very carefully. This injury is bad. You need to heal yourself.”
I chuckled. “Can’t. Could do a Cinderella, but no think for healing.”
Ian blinked at me, then shared a look with Peasblossom.
Peasblossom’s voice was teary when she spoke. “Shade, you have to try. Try, Shade!”
“Shade, I’m going to give you a little charge, but I need your permission,” Ian said. “Will you let me help?”
“No favors.”
Ian’s mouth twitched in what could have been the hint of an approving smile. “All right, let’s try this. I need a…” He glanced at my waist pouch, then at Peasblossom.
“A twisty tie,” Peasblossom suggested.
He stared at her for a second, then cleared his throat. “Yes. A…twisty tie. If you’ll give me one, then I’ll give your magic a boost so you can heal. Do we have an accord?”
“One twisty tie for one boost,” I mumbled. “Deal.”
I felt his hands settle on my stomach, felt his fingertips and palms grow warm. It should have hurt, considering the bullet hole was already on fire, but it didn’t. The black clouds eating my vision faded away, and I took a deep breath. It hurt, but at least I could think again. I raised my hand and laid it directly over the bullet wound, my hand between the two of Ian’s.
Blue energy flowed from my palm and spread in a growing spiral around the wound. I closed my eyes, concentrating on that power, pushing it deeper. Ian’s energy rushed to meet mine, and I gasped. The magic plunged deeper, and I had to scramble to guide it where I needed it to go. The burning simmered down to a dull ache, more like someone punched me than I’d been shot. Healing wasn’t easy magic, but Ian’s power cleared my mind, let me focus.
Finally, I managed to sit up, with Ian’s help.
“Here,” I said, unzipping the pouch and digging around.
Ian pressed his lips together as I put a crumpled green twisty tie in his palm. I could tell by the look on his face he had no idea what to do with it. But he wouldn’t throw it away while I was watching, that would insult the deal we’d made. Confusion was one of the few emotions that didn’t scare me when I saw it on a sidhe’s face, and my shoulders relaxed.
“Fine.” He shoved the twisty tie into his jacket pocket and stood. “Now come on. You have an appointment, and I’d urge you not to be late.” He took something out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Your phone. If Barbara should ask, I trust you’re capable of lying.”
“I have an appointment?”
He nodded at the phone. “Check your messages.”
I did as he suggested and my stomach bottomed out. “Anton Winters wants to meet with me.”
“Yes. He called me when you failed to answer your phone. He was clear that he wished to speak with you as soon as possible.”
“He called you in order to reach me?”
Ian huffed out a breath, apparently annoyed at all the questions. “Mr. Winters is aware that I am working on this case—and he’s aware that you’ve managed to find your way onto it as well. I tried to tell you this would be dangerous, but you didn’t listen.”
To be fair, he’d never said the vampire was involved. I fought the urge to squirm. Not that I was fooling anyone. Being summoned by the vampiric crime lord of Cleveland was never happy news. “I should go.”
“Yes, you should. I trust you haven’t forgotten about lunch tomorrow. There is much to discuss.”
I nodded without looking at him. “See you tomorrow.”
“Ms. Renard?”
“Yes?”
Ian gestured at my clothes. “Only a suggestion, of course, but perhaps it would be better to clean up a bit before meeting the vampire.”
I stared down at my body, only just noticing the blood. That was a lot of blood. Hysteria tickled the edges of my consciousness, but I shoved it away. No time to think about near-death experiences, not right now. Later. “Oh. Yes. Thanks.”
I waved goodbye, then used a Cinderella spell to clean and mend my clothes. Ian was right. Anton Winters was an old vampire, and I was quite certain he wasn’t one to lose his mind over bloodstained clothes. Still, that wasn’t really the tone I wanted to set for our meeting.
My lifeblood is an inconvenient stain deserving of little more than a magical Tide stick. Shade Renard, these are your life choices.
“What do you think he wants?” Peasblossom asked as soon as we got in the car.
Pushing away my concern for my sanity, I shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’d bet my broomstick it has something to do with Roger Temple.” I frowned and looked in the rearview mirror. Ian was watching me, the garage light shining down on him like a heavenly spotlight. My head still ached, and now that his influence was wearing off, my thoughts weren’t nearly so clear.
“He could have let me die just now. Why do you suppose he didn’t? Because he knew Anton wanted to talk to me? Maybe Ian was worried that Anton would ask him about the circumstances of my death, and he didn’t want to risk being confronted about letting me die.”
“Bad luck for him he found you in time to help.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of us sounded sure, but there was no sense dwelling on it now.
I didn’t need the GPS to get to the Winters building. It was less than two blocks away from the FBI building where Andy worked. Peasblossom hopped into my lap and patted my side as we drove past the FBI building. My neck muscles ached with the effort not to look toward the parking lot in some desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of my partner. No contact. That’s what my master had said.
I wasn’t in a great mood by the time we arrived at Anton’s office, but at least my anger with Flint helped cover up my anxiety over meeting with the undead. It was almost enough to make me forget how quickly security had rushed me through, and what that meant for the urgency of the situation.
A secretary led me up to the waiting room outside Anton’s office, but the door opened before I could sit down. “Good evening, Mother Renard,” a Dacian-accented voice said. “Come in. We have much to discuss.”
Anton Winters stood in the doorway to his office. As always, his dark blue suit looked as if it cost more than my car. Long white-blond hair touched the shoulders of his impeccably tailored suit jacket and framed his pale, aristocratic features. Blue eyes the color of a Dacian winter sky fixed on me, drawing me closer like a sci-fi tractor beam.
“Mr. Winters.” I gave myself a mental pat on the back for how steady my voice sounded, despite the fact that my feet had begun to walk me closer to the vampire without my permission. Not that my tone of voice mattered, the vampire could hear my frantic heartbeat, but it was still a triumph nonetheless. “I wasn’t aware we had an appointment?”
Anton Winters smiled, not enough to show fangs, and gestured for me to have a seat in the chair facing the front of his large black lacquered desk. “I do regret that the suddenness of your arrival was necessary, but I must speak with you on a matter of some urgency.”
“Of course I’m happy to speak with you,” I said, easing myself into the chair. “I’m sure next time you want to speak with me, you’ll afford me the respect of a phone call and a formal request for a meeting.”
Anton’s eyes glittered as he waited for me to be seated before sitting himself. “Regrettably, I must do as the situation warrants. But I do hope that the next time I desire to speak with you, I will have the luxury o
f time to arrange a meeting by more traditional means. As it is, I will endeavor to be efficient so that I do not take up more of your time than absolutely necessary.”
He tilted his head. “Now on to the matter at hand. A reliable source has informed me that you were at Roger Temple’s house today. While you were there, you questioned Mr. Temple about an event that someone has gone to significant lengths to keep secret. As a result, Mr. Temple is now in a magically-induced coma at Borvo Springs.”
“Would this reliable source be Ian Walsh, by any chance?”
Anton nodded. “It seems Mr. Walsh has been monitoring Mr. Temple for some time over some odd behavior. He contacted me today after hearing from a distraught Mrs. Temple and realizing the situation had become critical.”
It was obvious from the vampire’s tone that he wasn’t altogether pleased with Ian. My guess is he would have preferred the sidhe to alert him as soon as Roger’s “odd behavior” started, not after tragedy struck. No wonder Ian had saved my life. He couldn’t afford to disappoint the vampire a second time so quickly.
Anton leaned forward. “I have a vested interest in Mr. Temple’s health. Would you mind telling me in your own words…what happened?”
The vampire was usually a man who liked to circle a subject like a shark before diving in for a bite, but he’d gone for the point straight off the bat. I didn’t see how that could be a good thing for me.
“Did Ian tell you about the circumstances that preceded Roger’s odd behavior?” I asked.
“He did. But since you obviously managed to get Mr. Temple to talk enough to trigger whatever spell was keeping him silent, perhaps you could offer more up-to-date information? Start from the beginning. Do not leave anything out.”
I didn’t. I told him the whole story, beginning with my meeting with Barbara at the Italian restaurant. He listened carefully without interrupting until I’d finished. When I mentioned “Acme,” he raised his eyebrows.
“I assume Mr. Temple was not referring to the chain of grocery stores,” he mused. “Which would leave the National Acme Building. If that is the case, then I don’t believe you’ll find significant physical evidence.”
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