Unstoppable Liv Beaufont Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

  Liv slid into an entrance to a pharmacy, trying to hide in case the elf looked back.

  “Where are your shoes?” a bum asked her. He was sitting against the building, counting the change in a worn baseball cap.

  That question brought the pain to the surface of her mind. Lifting her feet, she examined the many cuts in the soles. Even though the mortal was looking directly at her, she pointed to her bare feet, pulling the glass out, which brought instant relief. There was nothing she could do about the cuts right then, but she could prevent infection. She summoned her boots from Rory’s yard, and they appeared and laced around her feet seconds later.

  The mortal blinked at the sudden appearance and nodded. “Oh, I didn’t see them before.”

  Liv smiled at him, peeking around the corner as the elf slipped into the building, looking back and forth as he did.

  She was about to hurry after him when a voice in her head stopped her. Sword. Summon it, Plato said from somewhere inside her head.

  Liv halted, closing her eyes briefly. She hadn’t tried summoning anything so difficult as her sword before. Clothes and shoes were apparently easy, especially because she’d been wearing them earlier. However, weapons were supposedly much more difficult. For that reason, Liv was surprised when she opened her eyes to find Bellator in her hands. She hadn’t even realized it was there until she looked at it. Only then did she feel the weight of the sword.

  “That’s a pretty umbrella,” the homeless man said, staring at the sword. So that’s how he sees Bellator, she realized. “I don’t think it’s supposed to rain, but at least you’ll be prepared if it does.”

  Liv nodded, sheathing the sword at her waist. Maybe it was the connection between her and Bellator that made it easier to summon. She realized that she’d used more energy to retrieve her boots than the sword.

  The bum began humming an odd tune as Liv slipped around the corner, hurrying toward the entrance to the skyscraper where the elf had disappeared. She pushed through the revolving door and ducked behind a group of elderly ladies at once.

  The elf was arguing with a security guard, who looked unwilling to let him into the elevator.

  “He’s waiting to see me!” the elf yelled, his hands waving wildly over his head.

  “I have to see him. I need his help!’

  The guard shook his head. “He specifically stated that you weren’t to come up to his office.”

  “But I need to talk to him!” the elf complained.

  Who was this man the elf needed to talk to? Liv wondered, walking in a crouched position behind the elderly ladies as they chatted and heading in the direction of the elevator.

  “If you don’t leave now, you’ll be escorted from the building and refused entry ever again,” the guard said, towering over the elf.

  He held up his fist, his lips parted and his yellow teeth clenched in a sneer. Although Liv expected him to argue, he backed away, holding up his hands. “Fine. I don’t want any trouble. I’ll leave.”

  The guard nodded as the elf retreated.

  However, Liv caught the gesture and evil twinkle in the elf’s eyes as he held up his hand, water spraying from it, directed at the elderly women nearing the elevator. They covered their heads, screaming.

  “A pipe must have burst on the first floor again,” the guard said urgently, reaching for the women before they fell.

  Liv slipped away from them in the chaos of the moment, following as the elf sprinted across the lobby to the door on the far side of the stairs. In the chaos of the sudden appearance of the water, the guard didn’t even notice the elf slip away, too busy trying to help the women to safety.

  Liv hung back until the elf disappeared into the stairwell and then followed. She pulled Bellator from her hip before inching the door back and peering through. When she didn’t hear racing feet on the stairs, she knew something was askew. A hand reached through, grabbing her wrist and yanking her into the stairwell.

  Liv found herself face to face with the deranged elf. This close, she realized that his entire face was covered in black spider-like veins. His eyes were red, and blood was dripping from one of his nostrils.

  Throwing her weight straight into him, Liv slammed him up against the wall, bringing Bellator to his throat. Easily she restrained his arms, realizing that he had little strength.

  He winced, his bad breath hitting her straight in the face. “If you just gave me the sword, this would all be over.”

  Liv placed the blade against his throat, shaking her head. “There is no way to end your suffering. The sword can’t help you.”

  The elf’s eyes grew large and tragic. “What? No! I was told that if I got the sword, it would fix me.”

  Liv shook her head. “They lied to you. Tell me who you work for and I’ll do what I can, but no promises.”

  He tried to shake his head, but it made his throat rub against the sharp blade. He halted. “I can’t. They’ve sworn me to secrecy.”

  “Whatever they’re doing to you, my punishment will be way worse,” Liv threatened.

  The elf looked undeterred. “You don’t understand. I can’t tell you. Kill me if you must, please kill me. But I can’t tell you who I work for.”

  He’s been enchanted not to tell, Liv realized.

  The elf pushed forward, his throat pressing into the blade. He was trying to get her to end things. Slit his throat.

  Liv stepped back, shaking her head at him. “You can’t tell me, but you can take me there.” She pointed up the stairs with Bellator. “Go!”

  The elf’s eyes swiveled to the door at their backs, defeat on his face. He wasn’t strong enough to fight her, and they both knew that. There was no way he was getting out of this.

  Clenching his teeth, he swung around and started to climb the stairs. Liv allowed him to get up to the next landing before following him. The elf smelled like rotting flesh and sickness, a combination that made her stomach rumble uneasily. If possible, it was worse than the demons, because the smell made her realize how sick he was. The elf was dying from Turbinger’s mark. Each step seemed to cost him great effort.

  As they continued the trek up another flight of stairs, Liv found herself feeling sorry for him. He was just some pawn used to secure Turbinger, but people weren’t expendable in her book. And worse than these realizations was the one that she’d marked him with the sword. Although she hadn’t meant to, while battling with Turbinger and trying to misdirect the giant sword, it had cut the elf—a fatal blow that was worse than death. Rory said a wound from Turbinger brought madness and pain, which inevitably ended in death, but only after great suffering.

  “You should kill me,” the elf said after a long moment of silence, almost like he’d read her sympathetic thoughts.

  “I’m afraid I already have,” Liv said morbidly, listening to their footsteps.

  “Then finish the job,” he urged, grief constricting his voice. “If there is no saving me using the sword, then end this for me.”

  Liv shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

  She knew very well that she could. She’d brought Bellator across the demon’s neck, ending its life. She didn’t think of herself as a murderer, but she was starting to believe she was a killer. Was there a difference? She liked to think there was.

  Liv hadn’t realized how high they’d climbed until the elf doubled over from exhaustion, his hands on his knees and his breath rattling. She stopped short of him to give him space. They were on the twelfth floor.

  “Let’s take the elevator from here,” Liv suggested, pointing to the door to the floor.

  Liv sheathed her sword as the elf opened the door, pushing as if the weight of the stairwell door was almost too much for him. She grabbed it before it crushed him, holding it open.

  The floor they exited onto was empty. It appeared to be under construction, some of the areas were covered in white plastic. Paint cans and supplies were stored in the corner ahead. Overhead, exposed wires sprouted out of the canned lighting.<
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  The elf stopped abruptly in front of her, giving her just enough time to halt before running into him. She was shocked to find tears streaming down his cheeks as he turned and regarded her with a tragic look.

  “I can’t go up there,” he said, his voice quivering with fear.

  “Can’t you see that he did this to you?” Liv argued. Whoever he was.

  The elf opened his mouth, saliva stretching between his lips. “It doesn’t matter. I have to end it now. I only persisted because he said the sword would fix me, but if what you say is true, I’m doomed.” He was shaking when he stretched his hands up. He took a step and jumped into the air, grabbing onto an electrical wire

  Liv was about to react when she heard a piddling sound. She’d thought the elf had peed himself until she realized that water was streaming from his other hand, pointed toward his feet. It puddled there, covering his shoes.

  For a moment Liv couldn’t understand what was happening, then he moved quicker than she’d seen him do all day. He grabbed the wires, pulling off their capped ends and holding on tightly.

  The elf erupted in sparks, electricity ripping through his body. His eyes bulged unnaturally, and steam rose from his head. He vibrated violently as the electrocution ended him. Liv shielded her face, backing away from the elf, not wanting to watch what would most assuredly be his final moments.

  The smell of burning flesh assaulted her nose as the overhead lights dimmed. Then the elf fell backward in a crumpled mess, the water he’d created steaming around him.

  He was dead.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Before the authorities were called, Liv ducked back into the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time.

  The elf was gone, and with him the one chance she’d had to determine who was behind stealing the sword. She couldn’t ignore the dull ache that erupted in her belly because of the obvious defeat. Watching the elf fry had been horrible. It had been one of the most jarring scenes she’d yet to see, and even though she hadn’t processed it yet, she knew it would stay with her for a long time. However, the elf was gone now, no matter what. He’d decided to end things on his terms, and she couldn’t really blame him. Someone had lied to him. Told him if he got the sword, his suffering would end. How devastating to learn that it had been a lie and there was no hope.

  The desperation was infectious, wrapping around Liv’s heart. As long as this person was out there, Rory and Turbinger were in danger. How had she come so far, only to lose this lead?

  When Liv came to the bottom floor, she was surprised to find that the lobby wasn’t in turmoil. Apparently, no one had figured out that a death had happened on the twelfth floor. They would, though, and she wasn’t sure she should be around for it.

  She halted in the middle of the lobby, looking at the bank of elevators with people filing in and out of them. She may not know much, but she knew that somewhere on one of these fifty floors was the person behind the plot to steal the sword. However, she had no idea how to find him.

  For an instant, she considered taking the elevator to every floor and investigating. However, that could take a long time, and time wasn’t something she had plenty of. She’d promised Stefan that they’d start searching for Sabatore soon, and she needed to get back to the shop and check on John. Disappointment and heartbreak made her head drop. She had to start packing.

  The janitors moved around her, mopping up the water she hadn’t even realized she’d stepped into. They didn’t seem to mind her, but Liv moved out of their way, trying to find dry ground. When she was standing in front of the elevators, something on the directory of the building caught her eyes. At first, she wasn’t sure why. She couldn’t place the names, but they struck a chord in her mind.

  Usher and Usher Law Firm

  It was listed as having offices on the top floor.

  Where have I heard this before? Liv wondered. Then a recent memory streamed across her consciousness, bringing with it uncomfortable feelings.

  “My name is Wayne Grimson. I work for Usher and Usher law firm. You might have heard of us,” said the man who had delivered the news to John about the fate of his repair shop.

  Liv’s eyes focused on the placard with the words Usher and Usher Law Firm on the directory. Could it be just a coincidence that this was the law firm behind John’s shop? She didn’t think so. She stepped onto the elevator and took it to the top floor.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The law office was buzzing with secretaries hustling between cubicles when Liv stepped off the elevator. She hadn’t realized she was dressed so differently from them until she’d gotten three strange looks. If she had thought about it, she would have changed into a pencil skirt and blazer like the rest of them. However, she thought that showing up in her black cape with her sheathed sword might be better. More of an impact.

  “May I help you?” the woman behind the receptionist desk asked.

  Liv was just about to respond when she recognized the back of a man’s head. It was Mr. Grimson, heading into a back office.

  “I’m good,” Liv said, sweeping by the woman.

  “Miss, unless you have an appointment, you—”

  “I have an appointment,” Liv said, lacing her words with magical intention.

  The secretary was easily brainwashed, shaking her head and turning around. “That’s right. Of course, you do.”

  Liv kept her chin high as she breezed past the other offices, earning many curious stares. When she arrived at the largest one at the back, she halted in the entrance. Mr. Grimson’s office was much like him, stuffy and lacking any personality.

  “Michelle, just put the files on the table,” he said, sitting behind his desk and focusing intently on a report in front of him.

  Liv strode into the office, pulling Bellator from her hip. She angled the sword and thrust it into the top of the lawyer’s desk, piercing the report he’d been reading. He didn’t jump back as she had expected, but rather calmly looked up at her, blinking dully.

  She knew then that he was behind all this. He had to be. Anyone else would have freaked the moment he was nearly impaled with a sword.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he said, no enthusiasm in his voice.

  Liv tilted her chin, making the door at her back slam shut and lock. “Yes, and I know that you’re behind the elf who has been trying to steal Turbinger.”

  Mr. Grimson raised an eyebrow, not at all looking deterred. “Ms. Beaufont, my client simply wants returned to them what is rightfully theirs.”

  Liv grabbed the hilt of Bellator and yanked it from the desk, keeping the tip directed at Mr. Grimson’s unyielding face. “Who is your client?”

  The lawyer actually smiled. “Intimidation won’t work on me. I’m prohibited from speaking, no matter what form of torture you use.” He laughed coldly. “I’ll even pretend to like it. I’m not quite sure I can pull that off, but I know I can’t talk.”

  Just like the elf, this man was charmed not to speak and disclose information.

  “Why are you forcing John out of his shop?” Liv asked, still pointing the sword at the uptight lawyer.

  He shrugged. “My client believes that if you’re not willing to give up what belongs to them, you should suffer.”

  Damn it, Liv thought, a crushing feeling assaulting her insides. This was all her fault. She’d put John in a horrible position. As she feared, her enemies had become his, taking out their anger at her on him.

  “You will drop this case against John and leave him alone,” she said, injecting the same persuasion she’d used on the receptionist into her voice.

  Wayne Grimson simply smiled. “Brainwashing won’t work on me. My client has assured that much.”

  Damn it, damn it, damn it, Liv thought, gripping Bellator tighter.

  “What exactly does your client want?” Liv nearly yelled.

  “I believe it is quite clear,” he answered casually. “They want the sword.”

  “And?” Liv asked, expecting more.
/>   He raised an eyebrow. “That is all, and quite enough.”

  Someone was trying to open the door at their back. Mr. Grimson kept his focus on Liv, not distracted.

  “In return for the sword, my client is willing to drop the injunction against Mr. Carraway, allowing him to keep his shop,” Mr. Grimson continued.

  “What?” Liv asked, disbelieving this. “Your client is insane.”

  His eyes flicked to the point of the sword, which was still directed at his Adam’s apple. “My client knows what the shop and Mr. Carraway mean to you. Those are the terms of the agreement. If you don’t give me the sword, the case will go forward, and there is nothing Mr. Carraway or you can do.”

  “I can slaughter you,” Liv threatened.

  He nodded easily. “You can, but my client will simply hire another lawyer for the case, and I’m sure that will make them angry. Who knows what will happen to Mr. Carraway then? Probably something worse than forced retirement.”

  Liv’s worst nightmare was coming true. The vision from the Door of Reflection of John lying helpless in a hospital bed because of her played in her head.

  Lowering her sword, Liv regarded the lawyer from hooded eyes.

  “If you bring me the sword, you have my word that the case will be dropped.” Mr. Grimson said.

  “What good is your word?” Liv asked bitterly.

  He blinked at her, appearing more like a robot than a man. “I am bound by oath. If I say I’ll do it, it will happen.”

  “And your client?” Liv inquired. “Will they leave us alone altogether?”

  Mr. Grimson gave her a cold look. “It’s hard to say. I think that all depends on what you do, and how much you continue to snoop where you’re unwelcome.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight