Midnight Labyrinth

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “We knew he was maybe shoving her around.” Ben took the picture frame, extracted the photograph from the back, and carefully tore Tom from the picture. “We saw bruises, Gav. Nothing like what he did to her tonight.”

  “If you need any help—”

  “I won’t.”

  “If she needs any help then. I owe her a favor.”

  “You don’t owe her anything,” Ben said.

  “Let me be magnanimous, old boy.” Gavin shot him a rueful smile. “I don’t come by the opportunity very often.”

  How about that? Gavin Wallace was acting like a human for once.

  “I’ll let you know if anything comes up,” Ben said.

  Gavin nodded.

  “Is that everything?” Ben nodded to the boxes in the corner.

  “Yes. Audra said there was very little evidence of her in the apartment. Most of her things appeared to be in one closet.”

  “Bastard.”

  “I’d very much agree.”

  “I have the truck. Can you help me carry this stuff out?”

  Gavin nodded and took off his coat, folding it over the back of the chair. “What does she do?”

  “Chloe?”

  “Yes, for work. What is her profession? You told me she was a dancer, but that she had a second job.”

  “Waitress. She works at a family place in Little Italy.”

  “Will they give her time off?”

  “Don’t know.” Ben hoisted one box over his shoulder.

  Gavin was already carrying a box and one of the suitcases. “She can have a better job here if she likes. I’ll pay her more and the hours would be flexible.”

  Ben gave him a hard look. “The last thing she needs is some vampire biting her.”

  “Not all my servers are on the menu,” Gavin growled. “Some of them doona even know what we are.”

  Likely story. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Just let her know she has options should she want them.”

  Should he be concerned how much attention Gavin was paying to Chloe? Most likely, the old vampire was just feeling guilty. As much as Gavin liked to pretend he was a hard case, Ben knew he was loyal and highly generous with the few people he considered friends.

  Ben dropped the box in the bed of the truck and said, “You know, I don’t need help with the asshole, but I do have another project.”

  Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Work related?”

  “Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  Gavin liked interesting. He was an easily bored creature, and once the excitement of opening a new place was over, he typically moved on to the next project. It was one of the reasons he had so many bars around the world.

  “This new project might keep me busy for a while,” Ben said.

  “What do you need help with?”

  “Have you heard of Historic New York?”

  “Know the name, not clear on the details. They haven’t been on my radar.”

  “Keep your ears open,” Ben said. “If you hear anything, I’d appreciate if you passed it along.”

  “Does this have to do with some little art project of yours?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Fine.” Gavin walked back in the pub to grab another box. “I’ll keep my ears open.”

  Tenzin heard the door slam upstairs. Thank the gods. Chloe looked nervous, and Tenzin was clearly very bad at acting like a human. Also, the sun was almost over the horizon.

  “Ben’s back,” Tenzin said as she stood. “I’ll send him down to check on you. I need to go… sleep.” She didn’t sleep, but she could meditate silently for a few hours. That would set the human at ease.

  “Okay. Thanks again, Tenzin.”

  “You are welcome.”

  Tenzin walked upstairs and intercepted Ben as he was heading toward the stairway with a suitcase.

  “Gavin’s guard packed a bag for her. The doorman is arranging to bring the rest of her stuff up the service elevator. I just told him to put it in a corner downstairs. Is she awake?”

  Tenzin nodded.

  “Is she… okay?”

  “From the way she’s moving, her ribs are uncomfortable, but she didn’t mention any sharp pain. She broke up with him, which is what prompted this beating. He’s cut her off from most of her friends. And she is embarrassed because she thought we were having sex. I’m not sure why that embarrasses her. Other than that, she seems fine. Her eyes need more ice.”

  Ben opened his mouth. Paused. “There was a lot in that statement.”

  “You asked a very broad question.”

  “Fair enough. Give me a minute.” He frowned. “Why did she think we were having sex?”

  “I have no idea, but I told her we weren’t. So if she wants to resume your sexual relationship, I would not be an obstacle to that.”

  He closed his eyes. “You didn’t tell her that, did you?”

  “No,” she said. “I need a ladder.”

  “That’s interesting, but I’m pretty sure we could manage without it.”

  “What?”

  Ben was biting back a smile. “Why do you need a ladder?”

  She pointed at herself. “Human, remember?”

  He still looked confused.

  “I need a ladder to get to my bedroom. So I can sleep. Like a human.”

  “Oh. Got it.” He started back toward the stairs. “I’ll order one and have it delivered. Until then…”

  “Just keep her downstairs for a while.”

  “I will.”

  “And don’t forget the ice.”

  Tenzin flew up to her loft and hid in the shadows just before the sun reached the windows of the apartment.

  This was going to be a very long day.

  8

  He called Zoots early the next morning. “Can you fit in a run?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ll pay you extra for last minute. I just need to burn off some shit.”

  She was silent for a beat. “I have an idea. Meet me at the usual place in a half an hour.”

  Ben dressed and jogged to catch the train. By the time he got to Hell’s Kitchen, the sun had risen over the buildings and it was hotter than their usual running time.

  Zoots was sitting on the swings at the playground. She rose when she saw him. “You want to get out of your head?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then come with me.”

  She took him down an alley and up a fire escape. Within minutes they were beyond curious eyes, standing on top of a building bordered by two taller brick factories.

  “This one used to be taller,” Zoots said. “I always wondered, so I looked it up at the library.” She pointed to the buildings on either side. “All three of these were factories, but this one had a big accident or something. The top two stories were demolished and they built a new roof. But see? No windows on either side.”

  “Huh.” Ben squinted at the two stories of solid brick that surrounded them. “Weird. But these are too high for a wall run.”

  “I know.” Zoots clapped her hands together. “We’re going to work on climbing.”

  Ben stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “’Cause I regularly joke about this shit?” She looked annoyed. “I lose you on the walls. Every time. You’re fast as hell, especially for being so tall, but you gotta work on climbing or you’ll never be fast enough for… whatever it is that makes you run.”

  “You lose me on the walls ’cause you’re a freaking spider monkey.”

  “You think this shit comes naturally? I’m faster than you because I practice.” She dragged an old mattress to the base of one wall. “Every wall is different, but practice helps. You can learn technique. Teaching yourself to look for the right kind of grips, understanding your balance when you’re vertical. All that stuff.”

  Ben was still gaping at the wall.

  “Trust me,” Zoots said. “I watche
d a lot of rock climbers on YouTube. Those free climbers are fucking insane.”

  “Yeah. Are you listening to yourself? They’re insane.” Ben stared at her.

  She shrugged. “But not really. There are tricks to it you can learn. This is just… urban rock climbing. Didn’t you say you rock climbed in South America or something?”

  “Zoots, I can’t climb straight up a building. There aren’t any windows; there aren’t any fire escapes or pipes—”

  “Yeah, you can. It’s not flat; it’s brick.” She backed away from the wall, started the ascent as a typical wall run, but didn’t reach the top. Instead, she stuck to the wall, paused a moment, then reached up and started climbing the surface like a spider. Ben was left gaping. She clung to invisible perches and swung from seemingly flat surfaces. When she got to the top, she pulled herself up, turned, and sat on the edge, swinging her legs. “See? Your turn.”

  Days later, Ben was still bruised from falling but feeling carefree as he sat at a low table at the Indian restaurant on West 8th Street. The sitar player was winding down in the corner, and he and Emilie had finished the tandoori chicken and saag paneer. They were sharing a pistachio ice cream, finishing their wine, and talking about cities they’d lived in. Ben regaled her with stories about Rome, while she offered playful childhood memories of Paris.

  “Did you think about going back?” he asked her.

  Emilie smiled. “To Paris?”

  “Yeah. I mean, you’re an artist—”

  “Designer,” she said. “My sketches are hardly art.”

  “Fashion design is art. Plus, fashion and Paris? It’s a natural combination.”

  She smiled. “There’s no fashion in New York?”

  “Of course there is. I just mean… You know what I mean.”

  Emilie laughed as she poured more wine into his glass. “I could have gone back. I have a French passport and can work there. But New York is home. And the fashion houses in Paris… They are more traditional, in my opinion. I want to do something new. I think the opportunities in the States are easier to come by if you work hard. In Paris, it’s all about who you know. What your connections are.”

  “You don’t have anyone left there?”

  Emilie shook her head. “Not in fashion. There are a few cousins. Some distant great-aunts and uncles. No one close.”

  “So you’re a New York girl.”

  “For now.” She coyly sipped her wine. “I am open to life and whatever comes my direction.”

  “That’s a good attitude to have.”

  “And you?” she asked. “You haven’t said what it is you do. I know you mentioned something to do with art, but you weren’t specific.”

  Ben was always wary about giving too much information, but the public story wouldn’t be enough for Emilie. Not if he wanted to get more information about Midnight Labyrinth.

  “Well, I grew up with my uncle, who is a rare-books dealer.”

  “That sounds interesting! I love books.” She blushed. “I don’t have any valuable ones though. I mostly read e-books now.”

  “With Manhattan apartment sizes, I don’t blame you. I love books too, but not as much as my uncle.”

  “So you don’t work with him?”

  “I do, in a way. I’ve always had an interest in art and antiquities. So what I do is kind of an offshoot of his business. If his clients are looking for a specific artifact or object… an Incan idol from Peru, for instance—”

  “Wouldn’t that belong in a museum?” Emilie asked with wide eyes.

  “Not necessarily. Most countries have prohibitions on taking antiquities out of their territory, but that still leaves room for objects that are already on the market in private hands.” He took a sip of the crisp Rhone white he’d ordered to complement the food. “I simply connect a buyer with the right seller. It’s aboveboard.” Some of the time.

  “That sounds interesting.” She frowned. “But I think there are some people who might try to take advantage.”

  “Of who?”

  “Of buyers. Aren’t there a lot of fakes out there?”

  “Absolutely. You have to know your art and know the right experts to ask when you don’t know.”

  “So you must know a lot about art history.”

  “I do. I love art history.”

  “Was that your major?”

  “No. Political science actually.”

  Emilie laughed. “What?”

  “Believe it or not, it comes in handy.” He took her hand and played with her fingers. She wore a ring on her right hand, a single pearl surrounded by small diamonds and rubies. “This is beautiful.”

  “It belonged to my great-grandmother.” She pulled her hand away and put it on her lap. “Family heirloom.”

  “From the Samson side?”

  “No, from my grandfather’s side.” She sipped her wine. “I think you must be interested in my family, Ben.”

  He let her see the rueful smile. “Hard not to be in my line of work.”

  “Is that why you asked me out?”

  “No. I asked you out because you are stunning in yellow.”

  She laughed. “And I didn’t wear it tonight. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He glanced at the blue blouse that draped over her delicate cleavage. She’d paired it with a tangerine pencil skirt and heels that made her legs a mile long. “You look great in blue too.”

  “And orange?”

  He glanced at her legs. “And orange. And purple. And every other color I can think of. I have a feeling you’d make a paper bag look good.”

  “I hope so. I hear that’s a common challenge on Project Runway.”

  She was adorable. And clever. And fun.

  Ben ignored the last of the ice cream melting in the bowl. There was something far sweeter he wanted to taste. He reached for Emilie’s hand. “Come here.”

  He kept the kiss light, fit for a dimly lit corner of the restaurant, but with just enough heat to have the color rise to her cheeks. He pulled away, licked the flavor of sweet pistachio off his lips, and went back for seconds. This time, the tip of her tongue touched his, and he tasted the acid bite of the wine and the heady flavor of Emilie. Her taste. Her scent.

  With a happy murmur, Ben pulled away, keeping her hand in his, rubbing her knuckles as he hooked his ankle around hers. “That was nice.”

  Her red-painted lips turned up in the corners. “Yes, it was.”

  “You taste delicious.”

  “It must be the wine.”

  “The wine is good, but not as good as you.”

  “You are very charming,” Emilie said. “Did you know that?”

  “Yes. Is it working on you?”

  “It’s been working since the first night we met. I wouldn’t have met you for dinner otherwise.”

  A discreet server brought the check, and Ben snatched it before Emilie could look. “Thank you for joining me. I really want to do it again. Soon.”

  “Are you going to let me buy the wine like you said?”

  “Not on your life.”

  “Ben!”

  He smiled and kissed Emilie’s knuckles before he glanced at the bill and grabbed cash from his wallet. He’d been raised by vampires, and cash was his habit. He’d never felt comfortable with credit cards. He didn’t like anyone knowing what he was spending his money on.

  “Tell you what,” he said, sliding the leather check folder back to the server. “Meet me for coffee tomorrow and I’ll let you buy.”

  “You’ll let me buy coffee?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She shook her head, but he knew she was thinking about it.

  “Meet me at the museum,” Ben said. “There is something I want to talk to you about, but I don’t want to bring it up tonight.”

  Emilie narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

  “I don’t want there to be any confusion.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss over the corner of her mouth before he whispered, “I am interested in your family
. I am interested in your uncle’s work. But I’m more interested in you.”

  He walked back to the loft after hailing a cab for Emilie. She lived on the Upper East Side with her grandparents and preferred to go home alone, even after he offered to accompany her. It was a first date. Ben didn’t push too hard. When he arrived back at the loft, it was nearly midnight. He expected Chloe to be asleep, but she wasn’t. She was standing in front of the mirror in the training area, holding on to the back of a chair as she went through a simple ballet routine.

  “How’s the knee?” He leaned against one wall and watched her, making a mental note to install a barre along the mirrored wall.

  “Feeling better than my ribs.” She stopped and turned to him. “How was the date?”

  “Nice.” He grinned. “More than nice.”

  Chloe smiled, her face still a cluster of bruises though the swelling had gone down. “Did you make her pretty-cry again?”

  “Absolutely not. She was smiling all through dinner.”

  “But you came back here?”

  “Now, now, Miss Reardon. I am a gentleman and it was just a first date.”

  “I don’t remember that slowing you down in high school.”

  He winced. “Give me a little credit for personal growth.”

  She laughed and started doing pliés again. “So, did you nail her down for a second date?”

  “Coffee tomorrow at the museum.”

  “I’m giving you a mental high five.” She lifted a slim arm over her head. “Good follow-through, Mr. Vecchio.”

  “Thank you very much. I’m being nosy, but did you check with Dr. Singh about exercising?”

  “He said as long as I don’t bend my torso, working on my knee wouldn’t be a problem.” She lowered her arm to bring it even with her shoulder and swept it to the side. “My shoulder is stiff, and lying in bed isn’t doing it any favors.”

  “Just don’t push if your body says stop.”

  “You sound like Tenzin.”

  Ben walked around the sparring area where Chloe was practicing. “We’ve trained together for a lot of years.”

  “As long as I’ve known you, I think.”

  “Probably.”

  Chloe stopped, a small frown forming between her eyebrows. “How old is she? I’m too embarrassed to ask.”