Corruption

by Jennifer Blackstream

  Then he saw the other cat.

  The bigger cat.

  Declan was a pale man, and I would have said he couldn’t get any paler.

  But he did.

  Shock drained the blood from his face and left his arm to fall at his side. For several long seconds, he didn’t react.

  His shock gave me the time I needed to compose myself. “Good evening, Mr. Grey. Can I help you?”

  He turned to me, his eyes showing too much white, and pointed a shaking finger at the cat.

  “Oh. Yes. Sorry, we were just leaving.” I stood and shuffled the paperwork I’d finished, sliding it into a folder and then tucking it into the case next to my laptop. I slung it over my shoulder and beamed at my landlord. “I’m sorry, did you want something?”

  Something passed over his face. A mask sliding over his features to cleanse away any human emotions he might possess. “If your rent is late again, I will evict you the day after.”

  He turned on his heel and marched out of my office. I watched him through the large windows that faced the front of the building, following him as he crossed the street and retreated into his small ranch-style house. That had been the shortest and most pleasant visit I’d ever had with Mr. Grey. I beamed at the cat.

  “On second thought, drop by whenever you like.” I pushed back my chair into the desk and circled around to the door. “By the way, that business about my rent being late? It’s not that I can’t afford it. I just forget. I plan to drop it off when I’m already out and about, but then something comes up.”

  Majesty leapt off the shelf and sailed through the air on a trajectory that I’d have wagered was impossible if I hadn’t seen him do it before. He landed on the black cat’s back, and the beast made an odd sound between a huff and a growl.

  “I know how you feel,” I told it. I locked the door behind me and exited the building into the cool night air, two cats at my side. It was strange, the sudden comfort that came over me. An acceptance of my situation. The same way I’d had to accept that Majesty would show up whenever he wanted to, no matter where I was or how hard I tried to keep him away.

  “I am turning into a cat lady,” I said, trying the words out loud.

  “Shut up,” Peasblossom mumbled. She stirred in the black hood of my shirt, hanging over the collar of my red trench coat. “I’m trying to sleep and you keep talking!”

  “Well, maybe if you’d gone to bed when I told you to, instead of staying out until five a.m., you wouldn’t be so tired.” I headed down the street toward my house. The village of Dresden was no more than one square mile, so driving to work seemed silly. “Where were you, anyway?”

  Peasblossom refused to answer beyond a loud, fake snore.

  “Can you talk?” I asked the cat.

  The black beast didn’t answer, but it kept pace beside me. Majesty sat on its back, watching the thick black tail sway from side to side.

  “I need something to call you.” I glanced down. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out with a name?”

  Nothing.

  I considered it as I walked. Names had power, and I didn’t like the idea of naming a beast as powerful as this one seemed to be. “I feel weird calling you cat.”

  “Don’t call it at all,” Peasblossom snapped. “Problem solved.”

  “How about Scath?” I suggested. “Irish for ‘shadow?’ It fits, right?”

  Still no response.

  I opened my mouth to continue my argument for the name, but the words died on my tongue as my attention fell on my driveway up ahead.

  Flint’s motorcycle rested in my driveway. I wasn’t a bike expert, or even bike competent, but instinct told me it was the leannan sidhe. And of course it was a logical assumption given that I was twenty minutes late for our meeting.

  The sidhe himself wasn’t near the bike, and I suspected he was already inside. I clenched my teeth and shifted the weight of my computer bag on my back. I hated the idea of that man wandering around my house unsupervised. He wouldn’t poke around too much—that sort of nosiness was dangerous in a witch’s house. But it was still a violation.

  “Eleven more months of this,” I muttered under my breath.

  “He’s going to be mad you’re late,” Peasblossom said, shifting inside my hood. “And he wasn’t happy with you to begin with.”

  Unease slid down my spine like a trickle of freezing water, but I shrugged it off. I’d done what had to be done, and I wasn’t sorry. I would never have been able to live with myself if I’d left Andy to the kelpies. He was my partner, it was my job to have his back. Period.

  I reached down to pet the black cat, experiencing an irrational need to seek comfort from the big beast. My hand brushed thin air.

  Scath was gone.

  I closed my hand into a fist. I didn’t need this. I didn’t need another person, another creature that wandered in and out of my life as it liked, there to help when I needed them, but too unreliable to be completely reassuring. Peasblossom snuggled deeper into my hood and I cleared my throat.

  “I adore you.”

  The pixie patted me through the thin cotton. “As well you should. I like you too.”

  I climbed the porch steps. I opened my door to find Flint reclining on my couch as if he owned my house and not just me. His position with his shoulders supported by the arm of the couch made his impressive abdominal muscles bunch in an appealing way, perfectly outlined by the soft, clingy faded blue cotton shirt he wore. Black denim jeans clung to his hips and legs in all the right places, inviting my eye downward. His eyes were closed, but he cracked one open as I slammed the door behind me.

  I waited, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. My nerves tightened another notch, and I gave in to the need to move, to do something to avoid that unnerving gaze. I carried my laptop bag to the desk that sat where my dining room table should be. After replacing my computer on the desk for later use, I leaned the bag against the legs of the desk and slid my coat off my shoulders. Flint’s stare bored into me as I hung up the coat, careful not to disturb Peasblossom who still hid in the hood of my shirt.

  He used the silence as a weapon. Let the anticipation build, winding me tighter and tighter. I marched to the fridge and retrieved a can of Coke. I toyed with the idea of making dinner. If he wanted to give me the silent treatment, I could play that game. I had the ingredients for chicken hibachi. He could lay there and watch me cut vegetables.

  My stomach growled, warning me that I was in no mood to eat. Nerves had always gone straight to my stomach.

  “All caught up on your paperwork?”

  I paused with my lips on the can of soda, glaring at him over the rim. I took a slow sip, patting myself on the back for not jumping when he’d spoken so suddenly, and giving myself a chance to get my voice under control before I answered.

  “Yes.” I took another sip. “I have other things to accomplish tonight though, so could we get to the reason for this meeting…?”

  Flint watched me, not responding right away. He let the silence drag out, let another wave of unease pluck at my nerves. He sat up, a gradual flexing of his abdominal muscles that unfolded him from the couch with more grace than I’d ever managed. He circled the couch and entered the kitchen with a predatory stalk that made me take a step back. Irritation sparked a wave of adrenaline and I narrowed my eyes.

  “Are you going to speak or just prance around—”

  “Put the Coke down.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  He met my eyes, held my gaze as he closed the distance between us. My step back had put me against the kitchen counter, so I had nowhere else to go when he reached forward, took my soda out of limp fingers. He stepped closer, until a hard breath would have brought our bodies together, and set the can on the counter behind me.

  “We have not been communicating well this past month.”

  He didn’t move back when he spoke, didn’t give me the space I needed to get a breath that wasn’t infused with his scent. T
hat seductive mix of skin-warmed bedsheets and the barest hint of expensive cologne. The counter bit into my spine as I fought to get another inch of space.

  “I tried to be sensitive to how you must be feeling about recent events, and I’m afraid my leniency has given you the wrong idea.”

  I really wanted another sip of soda. “I understand the situation. And I’ve been trying to live up to my end of the agreement.”

  Flint raised a finger. “Ah, see your phrasing is indicative of the problem. You seem to think we’re two equal individuals engaged in a business partnership.” His hazel eyes melted to a polished brown, and lines of gold glittered as they streaked across his irises. “We’re not. I own you, and it is my prerogative to dictate the terms of your life for the next eleven months, from what cases you take, to what food you eat—”

  “I—”

  “To where you sleep,” he finished evenly.

  I snapped my mouth shut so hard my teeth clacked together. Flint let me stew over that last thought for a full minute before continuing.

  “I allowed you to continue staying here, going about your life as usual, because I thought it would help you adjust. Help you to follow orders without becoming so overwrought by your circumstances that I had to take drastic precautions. I don’t believe either of us wants to see this turn into a custodial relationship, with bindings and chains and the like. I have no wish to be a warden—despite my capability and my right to be exactly that.”

  Bile washed up the back of my throat. I didn’t even try to respond this time. I was pretty sure I’d throw up if I did.

  “So,” he continued. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”

  He brushed my hair behind my ear, an intimate gesture meant to reinforce my position and his power. I breathed in through my nose, reminding myself what a bad idea it would be to hurt him. Freeze him. Burn him. Blast him across the room. So many bad choices that sounded so good…

  “Obviously our current arrangement is insufficient. You proved that yesterday when you managed to almost get yourself—and me—killed. So, let’s start with a small, simple change.” The gold in his eyes burned brighter. “Your partnership with Agent Bradford is over.”

  My stomach bottomed out. The violent thoughts I’d been using to keep my temper abandoned me, and I couldn’t swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “That’s not necessary,” I rasped.

  “Oh, but it is. I need to take up more of your time. Keep you focused on what’s important. Right now, what’s important is that you’re satisfying my needs.”

  I didn’t blush. I would have been prouder of that fact if I wasn’t hyper-aware of my temper reaching a boil, hot and sure deep inside me. My magic stirred, reviving the myriad of bad choices I’d been considering a minute ago.

  Flint leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek when he spoke. “I’m not taking you to my bed if that’s where your frantic little mind has gone. If you have such an inclination, I will certainly entertain the idea. But for now, my needs for your services are platonic and professional.”

  My nails dug into my palms, and I forced myself to relax my fists. This was not the time to lose my temper. “What do you want?”

  “I have a case for you,” Flint answered. “I want you to solve it.”

  I focused on my breathing. In, out, in, out. Don’t attack the sidhe, don’t push him to do something rash. Play nice.

  Revenge later.

  “And when it’s over?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay calm. “Then I can resume helping Agent Bradford? As I told him I would?”

  Flint’s jaw tightened. “Don’t. Don’t try that again, never again.”

  “I don’t know what yo—”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Hinting that you’ve given your word to him, that my forbidding you from working with him would make you forsworn. You have played that card too many times, and now you’re done.” He pressed his lips together and sucked in a deep breath. “Even if I believe that you’ve given him your word that you’ll help him, I am not forbidding it forever. Only for the time you are mine to control. When we’re finished, then you’re free to continue helping him with whatever pathetic case he deems worthy.”

  My temper flickered again, charging the tension between us until it crackled. “Pathetic case? Do you consider kidnapped children—”

  “Oh, Shade!” Flint whirled around, took three furious paces toward the door. For the first time since I’d known him, he seemed agitated. “I do not understand you. You were trained by Baba Yaga, one of the most mercurial, frightening hags to ever weave a spell, and yet you have the naive worldview of a child. You think you saved those children, that you solved the case. You consider that a success, don’t you? Don’t you?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yes. Yes, I do. Those children would have been—”

  “Yes, the children are back on the streets,” Flint snapped. “They’re free to starve, or freeze, or get into the wrong stranger’s car. You saved them from being scared and returned them to a life of homelessness and insecurity. Good job.”

  Shock straightened my spine so fast I bumped the kitchen counter and stumbled a step forward. “Matthew wasn’t just scared,” I ground out. “Lindsay wasn’t just scared.”

  “Matthew was killed by a human, not his master. And Lindsay killed herself because she was afraid of you.”

  I froze. “What did you say?”

  Flint shook his head. “You never considered that, did you? Did it never occur to you that Lindsay may have figured out that you knew what she’d done? That maybe she killed herself so you wouldn’t take her to jail?”

  My heart pounded so hard, it filled my ears with white noise, a rush of blood that made it hard to hear my own thoughts, let alone what Flint was saying to me. Images flooded my mind, images of a young girl lying on a canvas. Covered in blood. Blue eyes open and staring at me, unseeing. A knife by her hand.

  Flames rose to eat the memory, leaving behind a blackened skeleton.

  “And then there’s the vampire.” He took another step, his hands open, nonthreatening despite the coming accusation. “You agreed to help him find his book. Find the thieves who took it. I was fortunate. I wasn’t a threat to him, and my…future potential made me worth more out here, on my own. But what about Dabria?”

  I crossed my arms. “Dabria, the sorceress who tortured me and intended to kill me and my entire village? That Dabria?”

  Flint tilted his head. “Does that make it easier to live with what you know is happening to her? She’s a bad person, so she deserves it?”

  He took another step closer, once again encroaching on my personal space. “Or do you not think of her at all? Did you take the vampire’s blood money and tell yourself you’ll do good things with it, so it doesn’t matter where it came from? How he made it?” His eyes glittered as if someone had shone a flashlight over them. “Or has the vampire fooled you? You’re so quick to call me a murderer. Tell me, do you know how many people that vampire has killed this past year alone? Do you call him a murderer?”

  He was twisting everything around. I knew that. I also knew that he didn’t give a damn about the kids, or Dabria, or my work for Anton Winters. To him it was all ammunition. A means to break me down, eat me away from the inside out until I was too unsure of myself to offer any true resistance. I knew all of that, but it didn’t help. I hadn’t thought about Dabria. Hadn’t wondered about her fate, worried over what the vampire considered a fitting punishment.

  Just like I hadn’t thought about what life waited for the kids after I “saved” them. I’d set up a system to protect them from being Taken, but what about survival? Food and shelter? Not all of them would have shared Grayson’s fate. Matthew’s fate. What if I’d done things differently? What if I’d talked to the sidhe, negotiated better contracts for the kids instead of eliminating them?

  “You let your emotions control you, and you rushed into a situation you didn’t understand,” Flint said quietly. “Don’t make
the same mistake now. Don’t drown in your emotions. Look at the facts.”

  He didn’t try to touch me. In fact, he moved back and gave me room to breathe. I stared at him, heart in my throat, as he retrieved my can of Coke, took my hand and pressed the sweating can to my palm.

  “Your FBI partner is a good man. I can see that. And I understand that he wants answers. But you need to understand that even a strong human like him will be overwhelmed by what he sees in the Otherworld. He’ll rush in without truly understanding, and you’ll rush in right behind him. You’re risking both your lives, and, Shade, you are making enemies. He is making enemies.”

  Concern pinched the corners of his eyes, and he lowered his voice, a sense of urgency infusing his words. “You have to slow down and make better choices. You can fight for justice, you can be a private investigator, but you need to be smarter about it. You need to use your intellect, not your emotions.”

  I took a sip of Coke. I wanted to scream at him, shove him, knock him out of my house with a show of magical brute force. But he wasn’t wrong about all of it. And that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

  Something soft brushed the fingers of my free hand. I looked down to see Scath. I didn’t know where she’d come from, and I didn’t care. I scratched her behind the ears. Movement in the hood of my shirt preceded the sensation of tiny hands and feet pressing into my back as Peasblossom climbed up my hair to my neck and hugged me so hard I could feel her tiny frantic heartbeat. Majesty climbed up Scath’s head and rubbed his chin on my fingers. I concentrated on them, the fur and the heartbeat.

  “It’s a testament to the strength of your beliefs and your determination that you seem to be making friends almost as fast as you’re making enemies,” Flint said softly, inclining his head at the two felines and the pixie. “You can do this, Shade. You can be the person you want to be. And if you’ll let me, I’ll help you.”

  “As long as I do what you say.” My voice came out flat. Better than anger, I supposed. For now.