“Take your shower.” He dropped a kiss on top of my head. “You’ve earned it.”
“Are you sure?” Eager as I had been a minute ago, I lingered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“He left.” Ford leaned against the back wall, the dull metal casting him in reflection. “You might as well stay.”
Like I would help him limp across the lobby for one more glance of the pack’s golden boy. I wasn’t that pathetic, and it dented my pride Ford thought so.
“I didn’t say a word about Midas.”
“Midas?” Ford grinned, sly as a fox. “I was talking about Linus.”
Heat swamped my face, leaving my cheeks tingling.
“Liar.” I didn’t wait for the doors to trigger before ditching him for the comfort of my apartment, but my good mood was banished when I found Ambrose sitting in my chair. “I’m taking a shower. You can have the leftovers on the table, but that’s it.”
Ambrose picked up a half-eaten riblet by its shadow and began gnawing on the bone.
With him preoccupied, I enjoyed a long shower while searching for other signs of what had happened to me. It was dumb to hope history wasn’t repeating. What did history ever do but replay itself over and over?
Still, I really didn’t want to die.
Four
No sooner had I finished toweling my hair dry and flopping face-first onto the futon than my phone rang. As usual, I couldn’t afford to ignore it. I was tempted, though. Very tempted. One truffle or two kind of tempted. Boxes I mean. No one can eat just one.
I wriggled until I could reach my cell and answered without lifting my face off my pillow, which now smelled like Ford. Not a bad scent as far as smells go. “Hadley.”
“Are you coming in tonight or what?”
Bishop.
“Depends.” I groaned and shifted onto my side. “Can I call in sick?”
“Not unless you’re actually sick.”
I coughed onto the receiver and made my voice nasally. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Cut the crap and get over here.” Rapid-fire clicks told me he was hard at work while I loafed. “I have the security footage. I’m piecing it together now. Gimme ten, and I’ll be able to recreate your episode.”
Exhaustion forgotten, I sat up in a rush that left me dizzy. “I’ll be right there.”
“I thought you might say that.”
“Any chance you’ll just tell me where to go?”
HQ, the Office of the Potentate, or OPA for short, was fluid. Its location, I mean. Ask anyone on the POA’s team, and they would tell you we have several bases numbered one through twelve scattered across the city. They would also admit they had never stepped inside one.
The identities of the team, aside from the POA, Bishop, and me, were kept anonymous. Linus and I knew Bishop, but only Bishop knew the others’ real identities, and he functioned as the go-between.
He also acted like a fairytale troll guarding a bridge, forcing me to exchange strings of code with him via text message until he led me to the night’s active location. Active being the keyword.
Once I missed a number thanks to the flu giving me brain fog and ended up at the wrong spot.
There was nothing there, and I mean nothing.
No door, no handle, no cracks in the cement. Just smooth surface and echoing footsteps in the otherwise mundane parking garage.
“No can do.” He didn’t have to sound so happy about it. “You know the rules.”
Given I had been the one to invite Snowball into one of our bases, which had since been deactivated, I didn’t have a leg to stand on. Protocol was there for a reason, so that when mistakes got made, we had layers of protection between us and the wolf (or witchborn fae) at the door.
He ended the call, and I started pulling on clothes. Nothing fancy, another sports bra and comfy undies, yoga pants and a baggy racerback top since I felt a twinge of remorse over the spat with Midas. After we plotted out my daytime wanderings, I could run the Active Oval at Piedmont park and burn off some of this frustration. As I wrestled with the stretchy elastic armband I used to hold my phone when I exercised, an epiphany struck.
I ought to wear this sucker to bed so the next alley I woke in, if there was a next time, I would have a way home.
Dressed and as ready as I would ever be, I hit the lobby, pausing to pull up Swyft and gamble on a ride.
The uptick in the cost of a trip downtown made me wonder if rates had jumped again, but it’s not like the drivers didn’t earn their money. Paranormals, me especially, were hazard-duty pay waiting to happen.
Not five minutes later, a sporty two-seater painted lime green with black racing stripes squealed up to the curb.
Forget gambling. This was Russian roulette, and I had just lost.
The driver lowered her window and grinned at me, her needlelike teeth flashing, her skin so pale it was translucent.
I had pegged her for a vampire the first time we met, but she still didn’t send a warning tingle up my spine. Her wide blue eyes, the color of her pronounced veins, locked on me like a tractor beam, as if her will alone could haul me into the passenger seat. Her spiked pixie cut highlighted the roundness in her cheeks, and the elastics on her braces matched her hair and her wheels.
“Long time, no see.” She smacked her palm against her door. “Hop in.”
With the number of odd jobs she worked across the city, I figured our paths would cross again. Though I had hoped it would be over a takeout box in the food court and not in a zooming death trap with her behind the wheel.
“Hey.” I tried for upbeat, but I broke out in a cold sweat as I strapped in. “How have you been?”
“Busy.” She drummed her fingers, giving me a beat to shut the door before she peeled out. “Where to?”
“14th and Peachtree.” HQ might drift around the city, but there was a central hub that put you equidistant to all its locations. “That’s close enough.”
“To what?”
“The place I’m going.”
Excitement rounded her eyes. “Did someone else bite it?”
“What?” I paused in initiating a sequence with Bishop. “No.”
The first time the app assigned her as my driver, she had taken me to the scene of Shonda Randall’s death. That was when she let slip her keen interest in Midas, which I was no closer to understanding.
“Sheesh.” She stomped the accelerator. “Don’t have kittens. I was only asking.”
Please, goddess, let me get there in one piece.
“Rumor has it the pack’s golden boy has a crush on you.”
“No.” I sank lower in my seat. “He doesn’t.”
“I heard you two had a lovers’ quarrel at Joelle’s.”
Joelle’s. Ugh. The uber-fancy restaurant where Tisdale booked her son for his dates.
“Why are you so interested in Midas?” I fought with my seat belt to prevent decapitation when she inevitably stomped on the brakes. “Last time I mentioned him, you bit my head off.”
The food service industry was not for her. Actually, no service industry was for her.
“I was having a bad day at work.” She twitched her shoulders. “You ever have those?”
“Plenty of them.”
“Look, I’m sorry I was a bitch, all right?” She glared out at the night. “You didn’t call me for a lift home that day I gave you my number, and it got my panties in a twist. The way I see it, you’re using Swyft to get around town. Why not use me instead? That way we help each other out. I get steady business, and you get a dependable driver.” Her lips thinned. “I mean, I work for them. I’ve been vetted.” She pointed to her windshield. “See? I’ve got the sticker and everything.”
Thankfully the trip was short, and she parked before I had to burst her bubble.
“You’ve got issues with Midas.” I opened the door in case I made her mad enough to burn rubber before I got clear. “The Office of the Potentate works closely with the Atlanta gwyllgi pack.
I can’t risk hiring a regular driver who might be offering her services in order to spy on Midas. That would get me in trouble with the alpha, and my boss, and I’m not willing to go there.”
“Don’t let his good looks fool you,” she said quietly. “He’s a monster.”
“He’s gwyllgi. I’ve seen them shift. It doesn’t bother me.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Temper crept into her expression. “He. Is. A. Monster.”
“He’s never given me any reason to think so.” I tread carefully. “Why do you?”
“He killed my sister, okay?” She torqued her upper body toward me. “Is that what you want to hear?”
In his role as beta, as chief enforcer, I had no doubt he had killed. Many times. To protect the pack, his alpha, and himself. But where had her sister fit on that list? “How…?”
“Forget it,” she snarled, slamming her palms against the steering wheel. “Get out.”
Grateful for the open door, I scrambled onto the sidewalk. “I’m sorry for your—”
“She wasn’t lost.” Red-rimmed eyes, puffy and diamond hard, glared daggers at me. “She was taken from me.”
Lifting my hands, I backed away. “I really am sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Tears left glittery trails over her cheeks. Actual glitter. It made her grief sparkle under the streetlamps. “But he will be.”
This time I managed to shut the door before she peeled out into traffic.
How many kids had I left behind in this shape? How many of them stalked me on my periphery, waiting for a shot at avenging a loved one I had cost them? How many had I met without noticing how bright their hatred burned?
Given I had twice the identities as Midas, I hazarded a guess that I left twice the misery in my wake. At least his kills would be justified. Always. Amelie hadn’t cared that much about right and wrong when Ambrose took the wheel. Now, as Hadley, I had to care enough for the both of us—past and present me.
The shadow fanning out beneath me formed an inquiring pose, as if he had overheard my thoughts and the mention of him snared his interest.
That couldn’t be good. He wasn’t supposed to have access to my head. He could make deposits when requested, sure, but any attempts at withdrawals ought to get denied before he made off with a single, stray thought.
Linus said you’re okay, so you’re okay. Ambrose is a trickster, remember?
The noise in my head kept me distracted on my way to Base Three, but not so distracted I missed a flash of black fur out of the corner of my eye. Great. I had a gwyllgi on my tail. The black fur brought to mind a certain Texan, since there were minor correlations between hair and coat color.
But was he sniffing around on his own, or had Midas sent him?
The official line didn’t matter, not when they amounted to pretty much the same thing.
Ignoring the final strand of directional text, I sent Bishop a warning.
I’ve got a tail.
>>I wondered when you were going to notice.
Forgive me and my measly two eyeballs. I don’t have fifty thousand like some people.
With HQ plugged into cameras all over the city, he had eyes everywhere.
>>You’re making me sound like a fly, and flies creep me out with the buzzing and the—never mind.
How they feasted on dead flesh as if they were guests at a feast and tucked their eggs into open wounds with the lullaby droning of their wings. The tickle of their spindly legs on skin… Yeah. He hated flies. Almost as much as I hated ants. Pity it was hard to avoid either when you lived in the South and had jobs like ours, and don’t get me started on the idioms, colloquialisms, and idiomatic colloquialisms that made both Southern conversational staples.
Want me to shake him?
>>Too risky. They’re familiar with your scent now.
Yet another thing I had the Snowball Situation to thank for, the total loss of my anonymity with the pack.
In that case, I’m going for a run. After that, I’ll hit the mall for a few hours.
What had started out as a quick-and-easy cover idea, a simple way to flesh out Hadley on paper, was fast becoming a drain on my resources as I juggled my various roles. The Peachy Keen Sheets franchise was the ball I kept dropping, not that it made a lick of difference when it came to paying rent on my kiosk.
>>Sounds good. We’ll catch up after.
Hoping to make amends, I dialed up the pixie. I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and I hadn’t bothered with my nightly café mocha either, so it’s not like I had anything in my stomach to spill across the floorboard if I risked a longer trip with her.
Oh well. I tried. I really did. This was me, trying. Just not very hard since I barely let it ring three times before ending the call with a fist pump.
Figuring it was safe to use the Swyft app, I got prompted to leave the pixie a tip and then I booked a ride.
The app misread my location, forcing me to cross the street and wait under a particular sign. I was alone in a quiet part of town well after dark, so it’s not like the driver would have trouble identifying me, but I was a stickler for details these days.
The click, click, click of claws on asphalt raised my short hairs, and I pivoted to find a gwyllgi trotting over to me. Silky black fur, onyx scales, and a face only a mother could love. All in all, he—or she—wasn’t unattractive for a gwyllgi, who resembled a bullmastiff’s one-night stand with a Komodo dragon.
Tongue lolling, it gave the impression of being friendly and happy to see me, but I made it a rule not to trust supernaturals in their natural form unless I knew them very, very well.
“Ford?”
A throaty bark seemed to confirm his identity, but I couldn’t shake a feeling of wrongness about him.
“Give me a second.” I held up my phone. “I’ll cancel my ride and walk back to the Faraday with you.”
He wagged his tail and planted his butt, waiting on me to wrap up my texts.
Ford, old buddy, old pal. Where are you?
>>Miss me already?
You texted me back, so I’m guessing the gwyllgi with me isn’t you.
>>No thumbs in that form, so not me.
>>Where are you?
The address beneath a well-lit street sign wasn’t as comforting as it had been a moment ago, but I gave it to him.
>>I’ll be there in ten minutes. It’s probably nothing, but I don’t like that it hasn’t shifted to identify itself.
Pretty sure it’s a boy.
>>Just try not to grind a packmate into hamburger for being stupid until I can interrogate him, please?
>>You won’t hear from me again. I have to shift to get across town that fast.
See you soon.
As promised, Ford went silent. Knowing he was on the way ought to have taken the edge off, but the hulking black beast doing its best to appear harmless was waiting on an update. The bump of his cold nose against my hand gave me chills, but I forced myself to pat him on the head.
“All done.” I slipped the phone in my pocket. “Let’s go.”
The gwyllgi walked at my side for a block or two, and I started regretting the text to Ford. He would have a good laugh at my expense if this was another enforcer sent to babysit me after the not-a-break-in. Tone was hard to parse in text, but he hadn’t seemed overly worried a strange gwyllgi had sought me out.
Ambrose, however, had started circling it like black water swirling down a drain.
He didn’t much care for gwyllgi, or shifters in general. Their magic was innate, enough to allow them to slide between skins, but hardly a mouthful for him. Therefore, they were of little interest. That this one had earned a second glance worried me. The last gwyllgi to spark his curiosity had been…Snowball.
“Frak.” I made a production of checking the next cross street. “We missed our turn.”
The gwyllgi nudged me forward, tail swishing, assuring me he knew the way.
Cold sweat glazed my skin when we missed the next turn, and the next. He w
as herding me, and I was letting him to buy time for Ford to arrive, but I had no idea of our final destination. I had to start pushing back, throwing him off track, forcing him to work for it.
Against a lone gwyllgi, I could defend myself. It would get ugly, though, and I didn’t want to drag the alpha, or the beta, into a homicide investigation starring yours truly.
“You know a shortcut?” I made sure I kept it light. “You probably grew up here, huh? I’m still learning my way around the city.”
The gwyllgi rumbled agreement, but Ford was from Texas, not Georgia.
Deeper and deeper into the dark, he led me through a vacant warren of streets, and I let him.
The promised ten minutes lapsed with no sign of Ford. Granted, we had veered off the beaten path, but come on. Just how bad was his nose, exactly?
“I hate to sound like a wuss.” I laughed at myself for the gwyllgi’s benefit. “I’m totally lost.” I dug in my pocket for my phone. “Looks like I’ll need that Swyft after all.”
Firmly but gently, he closed his mouth around my wrist.
“What’s wrong?” I faked wariness at the location rather than him. “Do you smell trouble?”
Bonus points for me. I resisted the urge to add a line about Timmy and falling down a well.
Nodding, he released my hand but nipped my phone from my fingers.
“Okay, I was willing to play along, but you had to take it too far.” I held out my hand. “I just bought that phone.” A year ago. “It’s still got the plastic screen protector on it.” I waited for him to comply. “You’re going to have to give it back.”
Proving what I had suspected all along, that gwyllgi would eat anything, he swallowed it. Gulped it down whole. And then he licked his lips.
Frakking bastard. Frakking gwyllgi. Frakking gwyllgi bastard.
Ambrose slithered back where he belonged when I yanked on his tether, but he kept an eager eye on the gwyllgi.
Reaching for him, into him, I groped with my right hand until the hilt of my kopis blade hit my palm. I was training with two, but usually one short sword was enough to tell a potential opponent you meant business. Most folks didn’t carry them around for the aesthetic.
Well, unless it was convention time. Then all bets were off, and all us geeks let our geek flags fly.
Pack of Lies Page 4
