Kaldar got out of the car. Jack followed. Humble, right. He could do that.
Thirty minutes later, they were on the road again. Jack sniffed at his new clothes. His faded black hoodie smelled of one brand of soap, his jeans of another. At least Kaldar let him keep his own boots. In the backseat, George wore a gray hoodie with a pocket in front and ripped jeans that needed to be thrown away. Kaldar had also bought him a used skateboard, a plank of wood on four wheels.
George caught him looking. “What?”
“You look ridiculous,” Jack told him.
“This from a guy who strips naked and runs around in the woods.”
“I’m not ashamed of my human or my lynx form. I wear clothes because people force me to. I don’t need to put on a costume every morning to feel better about myself.”
“That’s right. You’re a simple creature, aren’t you?”
“Simple” in the human world usually meant “stupid.” Jack grinned. “Why don’t you lean closer, so I can explain to you exactly how simple I am.”
“So help me Gods, I will turn this car around,” Kaldar said. His face was relaxed, but his stare had gained a sharp, dangerous edge. Not good.
“You’re different,” Jack told him.
“Different how?”
“You’re a lot more easygoing when you come to visit Cerise.”
“That’s because when I visit Cerise, I’m her funny, charming, favorite cousin. The hardest challenge I face there is how much I can annoy my dear cousin-in-law before he turns into a wolf and tries to rip my throat out. Right now, I’m an agent of the Mirror, saddled with two children, which means if someone jumps out in front of this car and tries to kill you, I will shoot him through the heart before he has a chance to blink.”
Jack clicked his mouth shut and sat straighter.
“I understand, believe me,” Kaldar said. “I have an older brother, and I make it a point to disappoint him at least once every month. But you are on my time now. You need to get out of this childish mind-set, because it will get you killed. You can do this stupid sibling-rivalry bullshit on your own time.”
It seemed like a really good time to be quiet, so Jack did just that. The city rolled by his window. On the way from the boundary, they had passed through some woods. Old, scarred trees that looked like they belonged in the Weird rather than the Broken. The woods had encroached on the city—he could see places where they had snuck in—patches never cleared between the groups of houses, a huge tree somebody forgot to cut down growing from a small patch of dirt left bare by the pavement, parks . . . It seemed strange that people would want to live here, in a place where it always rained, fighting free of the woods.
Kaldar kept driving: right, left, turning down the gradually widening streets until he finally pulled the car into a large parking lot in front of a tall tower of glass and stone.
“Audrey Callahan works in that building.”
“How do you know?” George asked.
“While you were getting pretty and picking out clothes, I made some calls to local PI firms listed in the phone book. I asked for Audrey. This firm transferred me to her office answering machine.” Kaldar looked pleased with himself, like a cat who’d gotten into some sweet cream. “Here’s the plan: I go in. The two of you wait here. Look like you’re loitering but watch the doors. I doubt Audrey will be happy to see me.”
“Are you going to torture her?” Jack asked.
Kaldar stopped and gave him an odd look. “No. If you see us come out together, you wait until we get to the car. If you see a young woman with red hair come out alone, like she is in a hurry, that means things didn’t go smoothly.”
Kaldar reached into his bag and pulled out a small metal box with a flower engraved in its top. He pushed the center of the flower. The metal petals sprang up with a click. Jack inspected the edges. Razor-sharp and serrated at the bottom.
“This is a magic tracker. It works only in the Weird or in the Edge. It’s designed to attach to carriages, but it’s magnetic and should stick to a car as well. George, take this tracker. If Audrey comes out alone, follow her and stick the tracker to the back or bottom of her vehicle. Use the skateboard as a diversion.” Kaldar looked at Jack. “While he is doing that, you will follow my scent into the building, find me, and . . .”
“Save you?” Jack asked.
“Assist me. Don’t get ahead of yourself, there.”
“Assist.” That was a nice way to put it.
“Are we clear?” Kaldar asked.
Jack nodded.
“Off we go, then.”
* * *
ANY day that started with a check was a good day. Audrey grinned and checked the folder in her hands as she walked through the long, carpeted hallway of Milano Investigations. She wore a beige pantsuit that did lovely things for her skin tone, her hair was braided away from her face, and inside her folder a blue pay stub showed $822 deposited into her account. Honest money, honestly earned. She didn’t even begrudge the government biting a chunk off in taxes.
In eighty-two days she would be eligible to apply for benefits. And today promised to be good. She would play second fiddle to Johanna Parker on an attorney case. She’d met Johanna yesterday—she was forty-five, dark-eyed, gray-haired and proud of it, and retired from the Seattle PD. Apparently when a defendant retained a private attorney in a criminal case, that attorney in turn often retained a PI, especially if that PI was a retired cop. The PI would do the legwork, talk to cops, talk to witnesses, review police reports, and so on. And Audrey would get to sit in on all of it and see how the other side worked.
Oh yes. Today would be good. If she wasn’t trying to be professional, she’d run down the hallway squealing, “Wheeeee!” like a four-year-old who had just been told she would get to go to the water park. She reached for her office door.
“Audrey!” Johanna’s voice called behind her.
Audrey turned on her heel. “Yes, ma’am?”
Johanna was leaning out of her office two doors down the hallway, half-in, half-out. “You have a client. Serena put him in your office because George has the conference room.”
A client? Already? “Thank you!” Audrey took the door handle.
“He said he’s a friend of your brother.”
A little ball of ice burst inside Audrey and petrified her in place. Nothing connected with Alex could be good. It wasn’t her father—Seamus was too vain. He would’ve said he was her father. No, this was either some drug dealer or someone who had gotten wind of the heist and wanted his money.
She stared at the door. Her instincts said, “Walk away.” Let go of the door handle, turn around, walk away, and keep walking.
“Anyway, I need you at ten, so you have about an hour,” Johanna said. “Do you think you can wrap it up by then?”
Audrey heard her own voice. “Yes, ma’am.” Go into your office so I can escape. Go into your office.
Johanna laughed. “You can stop calling me ‘ma’am.’ We’re less formal here on the West Coast. Just ‘Johanna’ will do.”
“Okay, Johanna.” Audrey forced a smile. Go away.
Johanna turned to stop into her office and paused.
Now what?
Serena was walking down the hallway with a pack of folders. Oh no. Keep walking. Keeeep walking.
Serena stopped by Johanna’s doorway and held out a file. She would have to go by them to get outside. Her escape route was gone.
Why now? Why when everything is going so well? Am I cursed or something?
Audrey swallowed. That was fine. She was a Callahan. She would handle it.
Audrey opened the door. A man stood by the window, looking out. He wore faded jeans, tan leather work boots, and a charcoal hoodie. She could walk outside and find ten men wearing a variation of the same thing. People on the West Coast took it easy and didn’t bother with too much formality. Out here, he could be anyone: an older college student, a college professor, or the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company.
His hair was neither too long nor too short, tousled, and very dark, almost black. His shoulders were wide, his waist mostly hidden by the sweatshirt, but his butt looked like he’d spent a fair amount of time running. Hair and butt said younger than forty, shoulders said older than teens. Probably late twenties. Her entire assessment took about a second.
Audrey beamed a bright, pretty-girl smile, and said, “Hi!”
The man turned.
Oh sweet Jesus.
He had a narrow, strong face, good cheekbones, and a full mouth. If she covered the top half of his face, she’d say he was a very handsome man. But his eyes, they were devil eyes. Light brown like clover honey, smart, and framed in long eyelashes, the man’s eyes brimmed with wicked humor. They lit his whole face, changing him from a handsome man to the kind of man any woman with a drop of sense would stay away from. He toned it down almost right away. The only reason she saw it at all was because she had caught him off guard, but it was too late. Nice try. She’d spent her life in the Edge, among con artists, thieves, and swindlers. Don’t you worry. I’ve got your number.
This man was a rogue, not because circumstances forced him to be a criminal but because he was born that way. He was probably conning his mother out of her milk the moment he could grin. He’d charm the clothes off a virgin in twenty minutes. And if the poor fool took him home, he’d drink her dad under the table, beguile her mother, charm her grandparents, and treat the girl to a night she’d never forget. In the morning, her dad would be sick with alcohol poisoning, the good silver would be missing together with the family car, and in a month, both the former virgin and her mother would be expecting.
Whatever he wanted, it was bad. She had to get the hell away from him. He wasn’t one of Alex’s junkie buddies, and he wasn’t one of her father’s “friends.” Seamus Callahan knew his limits. This man would run circles around him, and Seamus never partnered with anyone smarter than himself. Well, except for the family.
No, this man was too dangerous to be a common Edge rat. He was working for someone in the Edge or, more likely, in the Weird, and he probably wanted the box she had stolen from West Egypt. If he had found her, others would follow. They would never leave her alone, and they wouldn’t think twice about killing her.
She was finished. Her job, her life, it was all over.
* * *
THE girl was beautiful.
Kaldar had expected a junkie or a long-suffering victim, a woman with a haggard face, toughened by life, and bitter. He’d seen some pretty girls in his time, a lot of them in their entirety, but Audrey was in a class by herself. She was golden. Her tan skin almost glowed. Her dark eyes sparked under narrow eyebrows. Her hair, pulled away from her face, was that particular shade of dark red, more brown touched with gold rather than orange. And when she smiled at him, showing white teeth, it was infectious. He wanted to smile back and do something amusing so she would smile at him again.
She walked up to him. Big smile, wide eyes, no hesitation. Nice outfit too; professional, true, but tight enough to show off her long legs and hug her butt, and her red shirt under the jacket was cut just low enough to pull the gaze to her breasts, which were very nice to look at. He’d bet there were men in this building who spent too much time picturing themselves peeling off her clothes and pondering the color of her panties. The question was, did she know it, and if she did, how did she use it?
“Hi!” she repeated, all sunshine and roses. “My name is Audrey. How can I help you?”
Her voice was golden too—smooth with a light touch of the South. He should’ve gone for a different type of disguise, something warmer and more folksy, instead of Seattle grunge. But too late now. Either she was really good, and he was in trouble, or she was an airhead, and he was unbelievably lucky.
“Hi, Audrey.” Kaldar smiled back, dropping a hint of his own South into his voice as well. “My name’s Denis Morrow.”
“So nice to meet you, Denis.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
Audrey shook his hand, and he caught a whiff of her perfume: citrus, peaches, and sandalwood, fresh, sensual, but not overpowering.
Her fingers squeezed his for a second and slipped out of his hand. He’d expected it, but his pulse sped up all the same. She was good.
“Please sit down.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Kaldar sat in the wooden chair in front of her desk. She went to her desk, sashaying a little, sat, and smiled at him. It was a sweet and completely innocent smile. He half expected flowers to sprout from the carpet and small birds to spring into song.
Audrey slid the top drawer of her desk out. Kaldar tensed. She took a small box of Altoids out and set it on the desk. “Mints?”
Probably poisoned. “No, thank you.”
Audrey pried the box open with her slender fingers. “Sorry, I just had coffee. My breath is . . . phew!” She waved her hand in front of her face.
“I don’t mind. Go right ahead.”
She plucked a mint out, put it on her pink tongue, and closed her mouth. “Mmm. I love Altoids.”
Aaand his thoughts went off the map. Nicely done again. He wondered how often she’d used that little trick. He could picture a conference room full of men simultaneously shutting up to watch her eat Altoids. No sister of Alex Callahan could be a complete innocent, but he didn’t expect this.
She leaned forward, her face earnest. “So, how can I help you, Denis?”
“I’ve visited your brother,” he said, testing the waters. “Alex.”
“Alex?” Her eyes went wide. “How is he? Is he okay? Did something happen?”
Her face showed genuine concern, even.
“Did he OD?”
And that was genuine fear. If he were a little less jaded, he would’ve bought it. Callahan wouldn’t be the first addict to have a persecution complex. Maybe Audrey was Daddy’s little girl, and Alex was the family’s bitter black sheep, who was lying through his teeth.
And maybe pigs would fly and rich men would grow a conscience.
“Papa said he was in a nice place. The doctors were supposed to take care of him!”
Moisture wet her eyelashes. Crying on cue. Adorable. Kaldar had to say something before she teared up, or things would get messy. He held out his hand and put on a guilty smile. “Audrey, please, you misunderstood. It would break my heart to see such a lovely woman upset. Your brother’s fine.”
Audrey drew back. “That wasn’t nice. You scared me.”
Now he was a mean, rotten man, yes he was. He almost clapped.
She drew herself upright. “What is it that you would like from me, Mr. Morrow?”
Well, it was a great performance, but all good things had to come to an end. Kaldar leaned forward, and said in an intimate, quiet voice, “I want you to cut the bullshit and tell me what your daddy has done with the device you stole from West Egypt.”
She jerked her hand toward him, blindingly fast. A sharp jolt exploded in his chest, as if he had hit his funny bone, and the shock overwhelmed his whole body. Kaldar’s muscles locked. He willed himself to move, but he remained trapped in the chair, rigid like a board. The words gurgled in his mouth.
A Taser! She had Tasered him! Damn it all to hell.
Audrey slipped from behind her desk. He felt his arms yanked, then the pain was over. His body snapped back to normal, all functions restored, and he spat the first word that popped into his mouth. “Fuck.”
Audrey slapped a piece of duct tape over his lips. He growled and lunged at her, but his arms didn’t move.
She’d zip-tied him to his chair.
He’d been had. She’d tricked him like he was a sucker. Like he was a child. The moment he got free, she would regret it. He would make her deeply regret it.
Audrey bent over him, running her fingers through his clothes with practiced quickness, and pulled his knife from the inner pocket of his hoodie. The slightly curved black blade was almost six inches long and razor-sha
rp, but thick enough to parry one or two sword strokes.
“Nice knife.”
The point of the black blade pricked the skin just below his eye. She bent over him, her voice shaking with quiet rage.
“You have no idea what you’ve cost me. I worked for months to get this job, and you ruined everything. Do you know what it’s like to have to start over? Do you know how hard it is to get legal in the Broken?”
The knife cut his skin. He felt a drop of blood slide onto his cheek. Kaldar held very still. No need to agitate her.
“I’ve worked so hard. I’ve been so good. I like this job. I was supposed to get benefits in three months. And you and that pathetic excuse for a human being crushed it all. What did you give Alex to get to me, huh? Couldn’t have been money. He doesn’t care about money. No, it had to be drugs, didn’t it? That bloody moron would sell me out for a dime bag of pot. If he told you, he’d tell anyone. The Hand, the Claws, anyone!”
Audrey raised his knife. If she stabbed him, he’d lunge right and hope she missed the heart. For a moment, she looked like she would plunge the knife into his chest, then she leaned over him, her face an inch from his and spoke, each word a furious promise.
“Don’t follow me. If I ever see you again, I’ll cut out your eyeballs and make you swallow them.”
Audrey turned and marched out of the office, carefully closing the door behind her. The door clicked. She’d locked him in.
Kaldar surged to his feet, spun his back and the chair toward the heavy desk, and braced the chair’s legs against it. If his luck held, the chair was as old as it looked. He strained. The wood groaned. He’d done this a couple of times before. The trick was enough pressure at the right angle.
The last thing he wanted was for Jack to find him tied up. He would never hear the end of it.
* * *
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