by T. G. Ayer
I took the keys and whispered a ‘thank you’, after which Matthew patted me on the shoulder.
“Take your time, Melisande. We only sent the announcement out two hours ago. There will be no rush of attendants as yet.”
He offered me a gentle smile then glanced over at his nephew, the pain in his eyes clear to see. Then he inclined his head and walked out of the room, his gait unhurried, a clear sign that he had nowhere that he needed—or wanted—to be other than here with his nephew.
The Fontaines were a tight-knit clan who would close ranks when needed, and who would hunt you down and obliterate you…when needed.
I gripped the keys within my fist, the cold metal biting into the skin of my palms. The pressure sent a spark of pain into my knife wound—the self-inflicted one on the heel of my hand.
Exhaling deeply, I headed to the chair beside the bed and lowered myself into it. My abdomen throbbed in time with the wound in my thigh, both injuries giving me a timely reminder that I needed to find the time to heal, to recuperate.
Or else I may yet find myself in Samuel’s shoes.
Matthew’s words that Samuel had only passed away this morning were still preying on my mind. What would have been the reason for the time delay? Had Samuel known that he was going to die? Had he received a premonition? Or had he known his body was failing?
A cold fear filled me, and I tucked the keys into my jacket pocket, then leaned close to the husk that remained of my beloved mentor. I wasn’t sure of what I was looking for until I found it.
In the crease behind Samuel’s right ear was a tiny needle-mark. It would have been detectable easily enough on someone with a paler complexion, but Samuel’s slave heritage had bestowed him with a dusky skin-tone that hid the blushing red of a wound or skin irritation with ease.
I sat back, my ears ringing, unable to fathom what it was I’d just discovered. I snapped myself out of the stupor of shock and grabbed my phone. After taking a photograph of the needle-mark behind Samuel’s ear, I proceeded to grab a small envelope from my jacket pocket. As much as I complained about the Elite’s mandatory requirement that all agents carry evidence collection kits with them wherever they went, I all too often found them coming in handy.
Now, I removed the bag and selected the thickest diameter needle for what I needed to do, I had only one chance. I opened the shirt button on the top of his chest and bent over him. I’d never done this before, only ever heard about the procedure. If it hadn’t been for my ability to project, I would never have even considered it as an option.
But Samuel’s entire body was weak. His blood vessels had collapsed from dehydration and cellular degeneration months ago. One of the concerns of his doctors was that his body was doing a combination of two things—it had begun to consume itself, and it was fighting itself the way a body fought against cancerous cells.
I steeled myself and slid the needle into his chest. Projecting my senses, I peered through the skin, and what was left of his muscle, to the hard chest wall. Surprisingly, the needle slid through with ease and settled deep within Samuel’s heart.
I drew four ccs of blood and removed the needle slowly, hoping the hole I left behind wouldn’t seep. Thankfully it didn’t, and I was painfully aware that it was the pumping heart that tended to cause bleeding.
I secured the sample inside the accompanying vacutainer and sealed the lid. After securing the evidence bag inside the inner pocket of my leather jacket, I draped it over my shoulder and shifted away from the bed.
After abusing Samuel’s body in such a way, I felt I no longer deserved to remain at his side. Would he consider it an invasion of his privacy, a violation of his body at a time when he would have preferred peace?
I moved away from Samuel, giving his face one last long look before I headed back downstairs. The heels on my boots echoed on the wooden risers as I descended the stairs and departed through the front entrance.
I left the doorway, intending on hurrying around to the back of the property toward the garage where Samuel kept all his vehicles.
But Matthew, ever the gentleman, had had the car brought around and the sleek silver sedan waited for me at the bottom of the stairs. A few cars had driven up, and a well-dressed couple ascended the stairs. The woman scanned me from head to foot, her eyes widening for a moment before she walked on. The man holding her arm offered me a nod before his gaze too slid down my body, then flitted away as his features tightened.
Strange people.
I headed down the stairs and rounded the car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I threw my jacket onto the passenger side. I flinched as I turned to reach for the seatbelt, pain searing through my abdominal wounds.
My hand went to my waist, automatically probing the wound even before I could consider the wisdom of the action. The fabric was slick and stuck to my skin, and I sucked in a gasp as I glanced down. The deep rose fabric was soaked with blood, the silk now a rich red, a little too close to the true color of my lifeblood.
Shit.
I probed the wound, concerned too for the constant throbbing, and my heavy head. I flinched again and almost cried out when my fingers hit flesh so hot and painful that my fingertips felt almost singed.
A sure sign of infection.
I checked the wound on my thigh and probed the stitches, unsurprised to find that this wound too was infected. No wonder I was feeling woozy. The infection would have spread to my bloodstream by now.
I’d been so focused on Samuel that I hadn’t realized the wounds had gotten sore and painful over the last hour or so.
I’d intended to drive the car over to the Elite HQ, drop the blood sample off for testing and then bum a ride to New Orleans with one of the jumpers on call.
Seems I was shit outta luck, though I wasn’t in the least surprised. I’d always been the luckless one.
Fate was a churlish bitch, and I was so getting tired of it.
Chapter 30
I drove through the streets of Chicago, heading to the abandoned sector where the supernatural population lived and plied their trade. Kai was not too far from here, but I needed to have my wounds attended to first. I was already bleeding all over the car seat.
Samuel would have a fit if he saw the condition of his hand-fashioned leather seats.
I parked around the corner and alighted, moving too fast too soon. The street spun, and I grabbed for the roof of the car, righting myself and hoping I didn’t pass out here on the side of the road. Nobody knew I was here, and I hadn’t given Chloe the heads-up either.
If I were to die on the side of the road here, nobody would have a clue where to look for me.
I steadied myself, blinking away the pull of darkness that threatened to take me over. I inhaled slowly and straightened, ignoring the pain in my abdomen as the skin stretched over swollen and infected muscle.
Poor Drake was going to pitch a fit when he found out he’d botched the job after all.
I moved slowly and surely to the City Deep shelter around the corner. A long time ago, when Ares had been Storm, he’d begun what he’d called a new clan; one made up of anyone. There was no special requirement, and as far as Storm had been concerned, you could have no magic at all and still be part of the City Deep clan.
Storm had bought an old residential building that had been abandoned for years. He’d refurbed the place, providing accommodation to all his members. It was a strange arrangement, but it worked.
And now the entire system he’d built from the ground up was crumbling to dust and rubble. In the wake of Storm’s departure, Chloe Murdoch had stepped in to fill his shoes. From what I could make out she was doing an excellent job of running things.
I’d wondered if she knew about his punishment yet, if it was okay to tell Chloe. Jacinta had never said to not tell anyone. I may have to use that loophole because I didn’t think I’d be able to lie to Chloe.
We already had so much water under the bridge. She’d saved me when I’d first ended up in an interroga
tion cell when I was twelve.
And in thanks for everything she’d done for me, I’d turned around and betrayed her. I’d drawn a bunch of ruthless demons to her doorstep and Chloe and the Chief had lost their home and all their belongings, and it was all because of me.
Though the Chief had repeatedly assured me that he didn’t blame me, I just couldn’t absolve myself of that guilt.
Now, as I entered the shelter, I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind. Inside, the front waiting area—also the recreation room—contained kids sprawled on sofas and chairs, either doing homework or just relaxing.
I headed along the hall toward the offices up on the left, and entered the empty waiting room, now decorated in soft tones, with comfy over-stuffed chairs and a coffee table piled with books and magazines. A definite softer touch than Storm’s preference for black and white and chrome.
The sign on Storm’s office door had been changed to reflect Chloe’s name. Moving her from her old office down the hall to Storm’s room had been a mere geographical change. The kids were so used to her that her taking over would have gone off without a hitch.
A young girl stepped out of Chloe’s office, holding a pile of files. She looked a little young, all blonde hair and dark brown eyes, and I assumed she was one of the shelter kids helping Chloe out.
“Hiya,” she said giving me a bright smile. “I’m Niki. You need to see Chloe?”
I nodded, then regretted the movement as the room began to spin. Seconds later, I was sitting on the sofa, with my head between my legs, Niki’s hand on the back of my head forcing me down. The worst position for me considering my nose bleeds—which I could feel pulsing up into my nostrils.
I tapped her hand and pushed against her palm. She let me go and gasped as I leaned back and held my hand to my nose. Before I could look for a tissue in my pocket, I found a box of wipes hovering in front of me.
Grateful, I grabbed a bunch and cleaned up my nose. Footsteps drew closer from Chloe’s office, and soon she was standing next to me, her fingers wrapped around my wrist.
All I’d needed was that single touch.
Calm filtered through me, relaxing my muscles and lifting the tension in my heart. It did little for my grief, but I was so grateful for the relief.
“Come. Let’s get you inside the office and see what we can do about this blood.”
I wasn’t sure what particular blood she was talking about, but I obeyed and submitted as she guided me to the small sofa in the corner of her office. Here too, she’d done away with Storm’s masculine look, and now there were plants and a shag rug beneath her neat little pedestal desk, where once Storm had had a giant metal monstrosity and bare wood floors.
Chloe took care of me, laying me back down and getting me to relax. When she gasped, I knew she had seen the blood on my shirt.
“What the hell happened to you?” Chloe snapped, and I hid a smile. She didn’t often use profanity of any level.
“Stabbed. Some guy made of shadows popped out of nowhere and sliced and diced. Drake stitched me up, but I’m beginning to think that blade was poisoned or at least infected in some way.”
Chloe nodded. “Well. Whatever the case is, we need a healer here, stat.”
While I lay there enjoying being horizontal and having nothing immediate to do, Chloe rang for a healer. When he arrived, I stayed the urge to roll my eyes. It was Dr Worst-Bedside-Manner-Ever. Even his resemblance to Steph didn’t help my mood as he knelt beside me and got to work. He didn’t greet me, nor did he make eye contact.
Over his head, I stared at Chloe and made a face. She smiled and put a finger to her lips to silence me. I behaved, all amusement going out the window when the healer removed the bandages and probed the wounds.
“It’s infected. I’m going to have to drain and scrape to get rid of the pus and the infected flesh.”
He bent closer, as if he was about to get started. I held up my hand. “Got anything for the pain?”
He flinched as if he’d never expected the specimen he was working on to actually speak.
“I’m not that kind of mage. I heal wounds, diseases, injuries. I don’t promise pain relief.”
My jaw dropped. “You kidding? I had these stitched without a single painkiller. No way I’m going through that again and remaining conscious for it.”
He got to his feet, clenching his fists. “I could leave if you wish. You are welcome to procure another healer.”
“Sit back down and do what you came here to do, young man. We don’t need a tantrum or attitude from someone who is meant to be relieving a person’s suffering.” For a moment, I was shocked. Chloe’s tone was clipped and brooked no refusal.
The healer—whose name I was yet to be informed of—sank to the floor in silence and proceeded to remove the bandage.
“I’ll help her with the pain. You just fix what needs to be fixed, and with as little pain as possible.”
Seemed to me Chloe was warning him not to deliberately hurt me. Would he have been so spiteful? I sighed as Chloe came to sit beside me, looking forward to the relief I knew she’d give me.
She reached for my hands. “Just relax. I’m going to try to put you under. It doesn’t always work, but I think you need it. It should help you to heal faster.”
I nodded and found my wound numbed as the healer manipulated it to remove the pus.
And then I knew nothing.
* * *
When I opened my eyes, the healer was gone, my wounds throbbed way less, and Chloe was on the phone with someone.
“No, honey. I haven’t seen the guy. To be honest, I’m glad. He’s a little too creepy with the way he stalks her.” There was a short pause, and then she said, “How long has he been missing?”
I pushed slowly to sit up and pulled my tacky blouse away from my wound. “Who’s been missing?” I asked softly.
Chloe spun around and gave me a wide smile. She bent to the phone, pressed a button and said, “Honey, Mel’s awake. I have you on speakerphone.”
Chief Murdoch proceeded to interrogate me on my condition and how I’d managed to score such life-threatening injuries.
“Believe me, I never went looking for this. He came out of nowhere, and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about him.”
The chief grunted. “Chloe told me about it. I’ll put in a query for other similar incidents that have been reported. Problem is—”
“Not many people are going to be willing to report that they were stabbed by a shadow,” I said dryly.
The chief chuckled.
“So what was that about my missing stalker?” I asked, still curious who they were looking for.
“It’s Fulbright. He hasn’t been around for a while. About two weeks. Not contactable. He’s disabled the GPS on his car, and he’s tossed his phone. Found it in a dumpster near the docks.”
Chloe made a face at that, and I sighed and said, “You think he’s in some sort of trouble?”
“I don’t know what to think. He’s not my most favorite person in the world, nor is he on my Christmas card list, but he is my employee, and I am concerned. It’s been too long out of touch. That makes me almost certain something’s up.”
I nodded to myself. “I can understand that.” Inhaling slowly, I said, “I’ll keep an eye out. I haven’t been home in a couple days—case out in NOLA—but when I get home, I’ll keep an eye out and let you know the moment I see something.”
The chief rang off, and Chloe came to sit beside me. “You feeling better?”
“Yup.” Then I gave her a searching look. “You knocked me out,” I said with a mock glare.
She shrugged. “Amazing that old age may mean different strengths and weakness to my talent.”
I grinned. “I think it’s cool. Neat trick if the chief ever gets to be too much to handle. Switch him off like a light.” I snorted, then laughed and bent over. “Ouch. No laughing.”
Chloe laughed. “That’s what you get for being cheeky.”
“What is it?” she asked softly, her tone tender. I suspected she thought I was about to divulge some big personal issue.
“It’s about Storm.”
“Oh,” she said, her tone cooling. Then she lifted a brow and patted her knees as if preparing herself. “Fine. Let me have it.”
I smiled and ran through Storm’s punishment, repeating what Jacinta said almost word for word—that’s how clear it was in my head.
When I was done, Chloe sighed and got to her feet. “Well, that was not what I had expected.”
“What did you want? His head on a spike.”
“Something like that, yes,” she snapped, then let out a growl. “I dunno. It feels like his punishment isn’t enough.”
I sighed. “I hear you. If you got anything else, please feel free to share. Everyone seemed to have been out of ideas.”
Chloe shook her head. “Seems like one of those times when you just need to make your own peace with things. Sometimes justice cannot be served to the satisfaction of the victim.”
My gut twisted at her words, so true, so practical. I could pretend she wasn’t making sense. But then I’d just be lying to myself.
I shifted to the edge of the sofa, and was getting to my feet when Chloe said, “What are you doing? You’re staying put, missy.”
I shook my head. “I have one more job to do before getting back to NOLA. No time to waste here. Lives are on the line.”
“Really, Mel? When will you stop putting the lives of others before your own.”
I smirked. “This time the life in question is mine.”
“Oh, well. In that case…”
Chapter 31
I left Chloe and headed the few blocks over to Tara’s shop, lifting my nose at the soiled leather of the Lexus’ front seat. Kai had wanted me to meet her at her weapons’ shop—which was odd since the place had been abandoned since Tara had flitted off on royal business to the Faelands, or where the fae led their people from.