As Strike whoomped back to Skywatch and she and Dez headed across the echoing space, aiming for the eastern entrance where she had arranged to meet Luc, Dez looked around at the destruction. “Guess we can add this place to the long list of things I fucked up back then. Guess Rabbit and I have more in common than I’d like to think.”
It took her a few seconds. Then her eyes widened. “You set the fire? Seriously?”
“Not on purpose.” He slanted her a look. “It happened the day I jumped bail.”
“The day . . .” She trailed off as the pattern started shifting into place. Before, she hadn’t wanted to look too hard at that part of her life. Now, she let herself remember.
She had been living in LA, doing the bounty hunting thing she had fallen into after failing to make it in the cube farm corporate world, and then washing out of the police academy with high marks on everything, including insubordination. She had gotten word that the VWs were gunning for Dez back in Denver, but her old task force buddies had a plan. They had almost everything they needed to do a full-fledged crackdown on the old neighborhood . . . and they would trade Dez’s safety for her getting them the last few pieces of the bigger puzzle.
She had done it, of course. He had saved her life, so she saved his, albeit in her own way. Unfortunately, a shark of a lawyer had wrangled Dez out on bail, laying him open once more to the VWs. Knowing that the only way to keep him alive would be to put him in a cage while the task force took out his enemies, she had flown back to hunt him down and drag his ass back to jail. At the time it had seemed sadly fitting that Seventeen had burned down the same night she got back into the city. Now, knowing what she did about the magi, she did the math. It had been the first day of summer. The solstice.
She stopped dead and stared at him. “That was the day the barrier reawakened. The day Strike figured out he was a teleporter and the end-time countdown was back on.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I had been feeling progressively shittier and shittier all day, and holed up here like some wounded animal waiting to die. A couple of VWs found me, started working me over, and I snapped. Between that and the fact that I had the star demon in my pocket, like always, I jacked in automatically, got my bloodline and talent marks, and grabbed right back on to the lightning magic. I blasted the bastards off me, hit the wiring, and the rest is history.”
So much of it was history, she thought. The past suddenly crowded close, making her feel hemmed in. Yet at the same time, the warehouse that had once been their world was now alien and unfamiliar. More, she felt alien and unfamiliar in her black leather jacket, combat pants and boots, with a blue-green shirt that she had worn to put a splash of color into an image that had looked hollow-eyed and bleached in the mirror. Physically she was okay, not as weak as she would have expected given how sick the makol bite had made her. But she was far from being herself.
Then again, did she even know who that was anymore? She didn’t want to go back to being the woman who had left Denver two weeks ago. She didn’t want to be her dumb-assed nineteen-year-old self, either, or even the bounty hunter. She liked the work she was doing for the Nightkeepers—it was challenging, different, exciting, and, yes, she was helping save the world. Or trying to, anyway. The makol bite had been a sobering reminder of her mortality, but she’d never shied away from danger. Just the opposite, in fact. But although she wanted to be part of the Nightkeepers’ war, she wasn’t sure Skywatch was for her. Or, rather, she wasn’t sure she could stay there with Dez if she wasn’t really with him.
She didn’t know quite who or what she wanted to be, or what she wanted to have happen next, leaving her feeling off balance as she and Dez crossed the echoing warehouse, automatically avoiding certain areas without speaking. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the far end of the building, though, or the place where a set of catwalks had once led to a series of tunnels. And when she glanced back at Dez, he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Maybe the past wasn’t so far gone, after all.
When they reached the eastern entrance, he checked out the short hallway that led from the outer door and past a trio of offices before opening into the main warehouse. “It’s clear,” he reported.
“You should hide in one of the offices. Luc transferred in a few years ago, but that doesn’t mean he won’t recognize you.”
He grinned wryly. “And even if he doesn’t, I’m not exactly the kind of guy who gives a cop warm, fuzzy feelings.”
Although he wasn’t fully geared out in autopistols and extra ammo, he looked deadly enough in camo and boots, with a double layer of thermal shirts and a thin black jacket zipped over the top, the collar turned up to his jaw. They had argued over weapons—she was meeting with a friend, after all, and he had his magic on the off chance that any makol showed up. Still, she’d bet money that he had his knife on him somewhere, probably his .44 as well.
He cocked his head in the direction of the outer door. “Showtime.” Then he melted into the nearest office, becoming part of the shadows.
Moments later, she heard footsteps approaching.
She turned toward the door as it swung open, spilling pale winter light into the entryway and silhouetting her police contact. She started toward him, hand outstretched, “Luc, it’s good to—”
She broke off as she realized two things simultaneously: One, it wasn’t Luc. And two, she was in serious trouble.
Oh. Shit.
There had been no warning from her instincts, no gut quiver, no nothing, leaving her caught flat-footed as a tall, distinguished man with dark hair and a frost of silver at his temples stepped into the light, carrying a neat manila file folder. He wore a familiar herringbone wool coat over a cool gray suit that made his eyes look very blue. And the Tweety Bird tie clip she had bought him on a whim, trying to remind him to lighten up.
Her mouth went dust dry, her voice to a weak thread. “Fallon.”
“Reese.” His eyes searched her face. “Sorry for the bait-and-switch. I didn’t think you would meet me.”
“I . . .” She trailed off, because he was right. She wouldn’t have met with him, at least not with Dez standing right there, unaware that the ambitious young detective who had recruited them once upon a time was now an established high-ranker, dabbling in politics. And that he had been, for the past few years, her sometimes lover.
Her pulse hammered; her brain raced. If she could have grabbed the file folder and fled, she would have. But Fallon deserved better. He always had.
“I needed to see you,” he said, voice rough. “And to ask you to reconsider. You don’t want to marry me, I get that. But that doesn’t have to be the end of things.”
Reese heard a sharp noise from the office and felt pain pierce in the vicinity of her heart. “Yes, it does,” she said, making herself focus on the man in front of her rather than the one hiding in the shadows. “It’s time. Me moving back here didn’t change the fact that we’re in two totally different places. You’re ready to settle down . . .”
“And you’re not,” Fallon finished for her. “I know. I just thought . . . well, I don’t know what I thought. Can’t we forget about that and go back to the way we were?”
She doubted she would ever forget that night: fancy dinner out, candlelight, wine, violins, and a handsome cop with his sights set higher, asking her to be part of his life, part of making the city a better place. The proposal had been perfect, the ring a gorgeous diamond set in pale yellow gold. And she had felt like she was suffocating. “I should’ve ended things a long time ago,” she said softly, “so you could’ve gone out and found someone who can give you what you want.”
“You′re what I want.” He closed the distance between them, started to reach for her, then hesitated as if seeing her—really seeing her—for the first time: no makeup, a few pounds lighter, and back in black. Shaking his head as if telling himself to ignore the changes, he said, “I’ll stop pushing. Whatever you want, just tell me. No more pressure. I promise.”
; “You’d be miserable.”
He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Like I’m not now?”
“We need a clean break, Fallon. It’s time. We can’t do this anymore.”
He went very still, tensing like a predator, suddenly all cop. “We,” he repeated. “What happened to ‘this is all for your sake, Fallon’?”
Guilt kicked. “Let it go. Please.”
“This isn’t really about a job in New Mexico, is it? All that stuff about watching the desert sunsets and searching your soul was all bullshit.” He crowded her, face etched with raw pain and growing anger. “You met someone, didn’t you? Someone who swept you off your damn feet the way I never could.”
Her pulse thudded in her ears but she kept her voice even. “The job is real, and it’s important to me.”
“I was important to you.” He grabbed her wrist. “Who—”
Pain exploded as his fingers put pressure right on the half-healed makol bite, obliterating the rest of his question and nearly driving her to her knees. She gasped and sagged, scrabbling against his grip. He let go the second he realized she was hurting, but it was already too late.
A dark shadow moved up behind him. A .44 appeared at his temple. And a pissed-off voice grated, “Back off. Right fucking now.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dez didn’t look at Reese; he couldn’t, not now when he couldn’t get hold of his own thoughts. Fallon was one of the good guys, damn it. And even through the haze of anger clouding Dez’s vision—at Fallon for going there, at Reese for not telling him—there was no question that the other man loved her. It was in his eyes, in his voice. He would protect her, care for her. And he had proposed. Probably even got down on one knee and did it right.
She turned him down, he thought. Hell, she broke up with him. But that didn’t help, because he knew damn well the breakup had happened because of the night he and Reese had spent together. That was the way her brain worked.
“You don’t want to do this,” Fallon said. “I’m sure she told you I’m a cop.”
He hadn’t recognized Dez’s voice. That gave him the option of backing off, disappearing again, not bringing it all out in the open, which was what Reese’s eyes silently begged him to do. Hell, he could drop the cop with a sleep spell and they would be out of there with the folder before the guy woke up. No harm, no foul. If Dez were truly the better man he was trying to be, he would do exactly that, and maybe even find a way to point her back in Fallon’s direction.
Back off, he told himself, just as he had told Fallon moments earlier. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not anymore.
The past week had reminded him how it had felt to be the stupid kid who hadn’t fully realized what he’d gained the day he’d snatched her away from Hood. The guy he had been before the star demon’s corruption. More, he had gotten to know the woman she had become, who wasn’t the same as she would have been if they had stayed together. This Reese was quick-tongued and acerbic at times, but he liked that edge, just as he liked her self-sufficiency and the way she made him feel stronger just by being there. Before, he had waited too long and missed his chance. This time, he could very well lose her if the shit hit the fan and the artifacts came on line, unleashing the curse of the serpent bloodline. But if that happened, he wanted her to know what she was walking out on. He wanted both of them to know.
So instead of backing off and disappearing, he gave Fallon a briskly professional pat, relieved him of his piece, emptied it, and put it back. “That’ll save you the paperwork of reporting it gone.”
Then, still keeping his .44 trained on the other man’s melon, Dez stepped around him, into the light, and put himself right beside Reese. To his surprise, his heart thudded in his chest, making the empty spots feel full. He saw in the widening of her eyes and the flush that touched her cheeks that she knew that he was staking his claim. And if that made him a selfish bastard, so be it. Maybe he wasn’t as cured as he wanted to think.
They would hash that out later, though. Right now, they had a cop to deal with.
Fallon’s face—more lined than before, but still bull-tough and square-jawed—went utterly blank for a two-count. Then it flooded with fury. “Mendez.” Coming out of his mouth, it sounded like “motherfucker,” but his eyes hollowed out like he was looking at a ghost. Which in a way, he was. Then his face set in deep lines as he added it up. His voice broke on aching disappointment when he said, “Oh, Reese.”
She flinched but held her ground. Dez could only guess how much that cost her. She wouldn’t have slept with Fallon if she didn’t care for him, and she wouldn’t enjoy hurting him now. Hell, Dez wasn’t getting any satisfaction out of the agony in the other man’s eyes. He could relate too damn well.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I tried to be what I thought you wanted—what I thought I wanted, but I just couldn’t do it.” She stroked a hand down the sleeve of her leather, over her injured wrist. “This is who I am.”
Breathing hard, hands fisted at his sides, Fallon grated, “What about him? How long have you been—” He broke off, closing his eyes briefly in pain. “How long?”
“This isn’t really about him.”
“Fuck that.”
“I never lied about my feelings, Fallon.”
His ribs heaved. “I thought you would come around, that you would figure out that it’s better to be with a good guy who loves you than an asshole who’ll break your heart, probably get you killed.” Transferring his glare to Dez, he grated, “Pretty brave with that gun, aren’t you? How about you put it down and we’ll see who’s tougher?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Fallon just sneered. “Don’t want to go back in, you mean. Parole violation, weapons charges, I wonder what else you’ve been up to for the past year, and whether she knows all of it.”
Guilt pinched. “She knows I’m not the same guy I used to be.”
The detective snorted. “Found God in solitary, did you? Think He redeemed you?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to work on that once you’re back inside.”
Dez merely lifted the .44. “I’m the one with the gun here. And Reese is leaving with me.” Then he just waited, knowing the other man would work the logic to its conclusion: If Fallon organized a manhunt, even an off-the-books, semi-quiet one, Reese would get caught up in the net for aiding and abetting. When he saw the knowledge hit, he felt a pang of sympathy at the hollow resignation in the other man’s face. “Let her go, Fallon,” he said softly. “She’s made her choice.”
Reese shot him a look at that one, but didn’t argue the point because she had made her choice—just not the one Fallon was assuming. She had chosen freedom over restraints, adventure over a sure thing.
Fallon’s eyes cooled to ice as he looked from Reese to Dez and back. Then he gave a bad-tempered “fuck it” kind of a shrug, and grated, “Doesn’t matter to me what a pair of ghosts does. I didn’t see anything in here, didn’t hear anything, just had a shitty lunch break in a crappy warehouse, waiting for a weasel who didn’t show.”
Then he spun on his heel, and headed out. He stiff-armed the door, paused, and chucked the file folder back at them with an angry swipe. The papers scattered and fluttered to the hallway floor, where they swirled in the current as the door slammed shut. They heard his footsteps, the bang of a car door, the rev of an engine, the chirp of tires . . . and then silence.
She inhaled a small sob, bowed her head and pressed her fingertips to her eyelids.
He lifted a hand. “Reese.”
“Don’t,” she said. “Just . . . don’t. Not right now. Just get us out of here, okay?”
Skywatch
The moment they were boots-down in the compound, Strike asked Reese and Dez to do a quick debrief-and-discuss.
Dez glanced at her. “Okay with you?”
“Yeah.” She avoided his eyes, though. She could talk about the file
Fallon had given them—thrown at her, really—but she wasn’t ready to deal with the rest of it. Fallon had been a part of her life for a long time and she hated knowing that she had hurt him so deeply, hated knowing what he must think of her now. Part of her wished like poison that Dez had stayed the hell out of sight. But another part of her, one she wasn’t at all proud of, had liked that he had broken cover for her, stood beside her. And that part of her wondered what it meant. It had felt like a signal, but of what? She didn’t know, didn’t dare guess, which meant that right now it was easier to focus on the job. It was also necessary, because as she looked around the room, it struck her that of the dozen people scattered around the great room, she and Dez were among the most thinly armed. Even Shandi, Jade’s ultra-reserved winikin, was packing heat. Skywatch didn’t feel inviolate anymore, Iago had all five of the artifacts, and they were three days away from the solstice.
“Okay, gang,” Strike said, looking tired and drawn as he called the meeting to order. “Reese, you want to lead us off?”
Feeling strangely numb, like this was all happening to someone else, she went through the police report Fallon had brought her, which described a burglary that had turned into a double homicide when the homeowners had caught the thieves in the act. The victims had died from multiple stab wounds, there was no indication of how the killers had gotten in or out, and the only thing that appeared to be missing was a pale green jade staff that had strange indentations along its length and snake heads carved at either end.
Serpents again, she thought, glancing at the insurance photo, then passing it around.
Next, Lucius took over for a quick run-through of the sacred Aztec sites that were strong possibilities for either Iago’s hiding spot or his next target. “Tomorrow, Strike is going to bounce a team—”
“Actually”—the king interrupted—“I’m going to have Rabbit, Myrinne, and Sven go check out the sites. They’re already down south to.” He glanced at Leah. “It’ll work better that way.”
Storm Kissed n-6 Page 20
