Stelen scowled at him. “If you would have killed the old broad when I told you to, we wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this,” he complained, stomping his way down the steps.
Lars followed along, contemplating the idea of shoving his blade into the back of Stelen’s neck. He was sick and tired of dealing with him. He would kill him when they were done. That was all there was to it.
It amused him as they went, to think how afraid the old woman would be. She was probably fumbling around for her phone to call the paranormal investigator again. She wouldn’t find it. He had taken it the night before when he’d taken the brunette’s phone and tablet. The Otto woman had no communication with the outside world.
They moved quickly through the house, both of them having learned the twists and turns of the hallways on their treks through the place. He’d found a perverse satisfaction in being there, making the old lady believe her house was haunted.
The rich old bat deserved what she was getting. He would make sure she learned her lesson.
FIFTEEN
By the time we got back to Pittsburgh, it was three o’clock and Erkens was in a very bad mood. I understood that he’d been in an accident the night before and was probably sore but he was taking his grump to a whole new level. That was when I remembered.
The reason Erkens had been heading back the evening before was because of a meeting with a contractor. The apartment building where our office was located needed some work and it was stuff Erkens couldn’t do on his own. He might end up losing rent money from one or two of his tenants, which wouldn’t make him happy at all.
I had a lot to get done myself, so simply dropped him off at the office and went to talk to my attorney. I wanted to be sure everything was legally above-board before I traded in Mom’s car.
After a very short amount of time and some seriously appalled looks on the faces of the secretaries who’d had to communicate with Mom, everything was set. The title to the car had been signed over to me and everything was on record. It would be just like Mom to call the cops and claim I’d stolen her car. Now, since the car was in my name, I could trade it in with no worry about Mom’s reaction.
I was tired by the time it was all taken care of but mostly, I was sad. My mom had never been an easy person to deal with. She’d been cold my whole life. As a kid, I had been convinced it was my fault, that I’d done something wrong.
It took Emma and her family’s assurance that I’d done nothing to deserve it that had been my saving grace. Without them, I didn’t want to imagine what my life would have been like.
It almost made me cry when I pulled into the Gregory’s dealership. Ian and his dad stood just inside the front door of the building. Their hard-faced expressions told me what they spoke about.
Ian’s parents had always been careful not to say anything bad about my mom in front of me but Emma and I had overheard them on several occasions. They were not Mom’s biggest fans. According to what Ian had told me the week before, his mom had called CPS several times, trying to get them to take me away from Mom. Because I’d never admitted she’d ever physically abused me, there was nothing CPS could do.
I kind of wanted to drive away. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Mostly, I wanted to forget. Forgetting wouldn’t happen but it was nice to contemplate the idea.
Because I was already there, I decided to nut up. Whatever made my mom hate me so much, it didn’t matter. Not right then, anyway.
Right then, what mattered was the way my boyfriend was looking at me as I got out of the Audi. It was like he saw me in a whole new light and liked what he saw. I had similar feelings about him.
To find out that he had agreed to help Tria take down the PSA and watch out for her son, it was an admirable thing. The idea of him being a medium was a little harder to handle. There was nothing I could do to change it. I accepted him, no matter what.
Ian and his dad were built in very similar ways. Both of them were tall with strong builds, although Ian looked a lot more like his mom. Mr. Gregory had wavy, dark hair and paler blue eyes than Ian. He was still a nice looking guy, despite the fact he didn’t look much like his son.
Mr. Gregory actually looked like he was about to cry as the two of them stepped out to greet me. He gave me a one-armed hug and cleared his throat. “Ian tells me you’re in the market for a new car,” he said, his voice a little croaky.
I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve also got a twenty-year-old Toyota with bad ball bearings and pretty much bald tires that I can throw in for good measure.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Let Ian fix that one up before you try and sell it,” he advised, turning to look at the Audi. “This one will get you any car on the lot with a good bit of money back.”
Ian motioned to the front of the lot. “I really think this one is perfect for you,” he said, taking a step in the direction of the car he spoke of.
I followed along, my mind filled with sorrow. I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. I had thought the pain was over and done with.
I blinked when Ian stopped, my mind blank. I looked around and my eyes widened. We stood in front of the perfect car.
It was an electric blue crossover SUV with bucket loads of personality. The car was downright adorable. Ian was right. It was indeed the perfect car for me.
I looked at the price, delighted to see it was reasonable. Everything else about it was like it had been made for me.
Being me, I took out my phone and did a search. The car got glowing reviews, with only a few naysayers. I was sold.
I held up my hand for a high five. “Ian Gregory, you win the award for best car pick in the history of my world.”
He didn’t give me a high five but took my hand and guided me back a little. “You can’t pick the first car I show you, babe,” he said, rolling his eyes as his dad jogged back to us carrying a set of keys.
“Oh, yes I can,” I disagreed, taking the keys from Mr. Gregory. “I assume I have to follow traffic laws on my test-drive?”
Mr. Gregory shrugged. “I’ll let you make that decision on your own. If you’ll let me have the keys to that Audi, we’ll both test-drive and if everything looks good, we can get the paperwork started.”
I smiled at him and nodded, digging the keys from my pocket. “Let’s do this,” I agreed, thrilled by everything to do with that evening’s plan.
By the time everything was taken care of, papers signed and cars traded, I was exhausted. I was also starving. Since I had a brand new car to break in, we both climbed into mine and went off to get some food.
Ian rested his hand on my thigh as we pulled away from the dealership. “Busy day for you,” he commented, clearly wanting to say more.
I glanced at him and shrugged. “Busy week for you,” I replied, waiting to see what was coming.
He smirked at me. “Not as busy as you’d think, Mads.” He squeezed my leg. “What do you say we grab a pizza and go sit by the river?”
I shot him a quick look. “Uh, Ian. We have a makeout session to finish and the idea of public displays of affection makes me a little uncomfortable,” I teased, simply eager to be alone with him.
He shot me a self-satisfied grin and wiggled his brows. “You’re on, Mads,” he said and that was indeed how we spent our evening.
By the time we’d finished our pizza and had curled ourselves together on the couch at my place, my aching head had finally eased. Everything inside me was at peace with Ian there by my side.
He rested one of his arms on the back of the couch, playing with my hair as he gazed at me. “I was thinking about you when I had that out of body experience. It pissed me off that I’d never specifically told you how I felt about you,” he said, the Caribbean blue of his eyes mesmerizing me for a moment. “I love you, Maddie. I have for years.”
My stomach fluttered as I leaned my head against his arm. “I was thinking about it too. I’ve never felt about anybody the way I feel about you. You make me feel whole. I love you too, Ian. You
’re everything.”
He shifted around and pulled me into his lap, claiming my mouth with his. It was a soft, sweet kiss that deepened into something very different.
I’d never thought of myself as a passionate person. With Ian, passion was precisely what I felt. He made me whole, mending my broken pieces with his love.
“Whoa. Get a room, you two.”
I didn’t look up, my brow rested against his. “To be continued,” I whispered, wishing Imogen wouldn’t have interrupted.
“Definitely,” he murmured.
Imogen cleared her throat ostentatiously. “Seriously, guys. I need to speak. Please put a tiny bit of space between you so I don’t feel so awkward.”
I did a little bit of internal grumbling before I shifted to the side. I sat next to Ian, my leg resting against his as he put his arm around my shoulders. It was a warm and comfortable thing that was almost as nice as that makeout session.
Imogen marched over and stood in front of the coffee table, eyeing us warily. “I am sorry for interrupting, really. But I need to talk to you both,” she stated, motioning to someone else I hadn’t noticed.
I glanced over to find a dark-haired, porcelain skinned guy who looked oddly familiar. I looked from his angelic face to Imogen’s and understood.
Her fluorescent green hair made her stand out but she had the same flawless features as the guy. She looked like a rocker chick, although if she dyed her hair dark, she’d be the same kind of striking creature the guy was.
He stepped forward and smiled a little. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Not the best first impression, I guess,” he said, holding out his hand to me. “I’m Dawson Turner, Quinn’s brother.”
I stared at him for a second before I took his hand to shake. “Madison Meyer. Quinn’s sister,” I said, baffled about how a guy who was so obviously fae could be related to Quinn.
Oh. Right. He’d mentioned biological parents, which indicated to me that he’d been adopted. It was amazing to realize how the paranormal world was so prevalent in what I’d always thought of as the real world.
Ian took Dawson’s hand when he offered it and raised his brows at Imogen. “Did you know about Quinn before we all met?”
She shrugged. “I knew Dawson and I knew he had a sister. I hadn’t met Quinn until last week or even heard her name. The kid’s kind of closed-mouthed about his weirdo family,” she teased, smirking at him in a playful way.
Dawson rolled his eyes at her. “You are part of my weirdo family, so why do you need me to talk about you?” he asked, glancing back at me. “I grew up on this side of the veil, so I’m more human than your average fae. Imogen’s my cousin. I don’t know if I believe in coincidence but you and Imogen living in the same place wasn’t arranged by any of us.”
I motioned to the seat next to me on the couch. “It’s fine by me. How are we going to get Quinn away from the PSA?” I asked, pulling my phone from my pocket to bring up the PSA site.
He sat down next to me, glancing at the pizza that was mostly eaten on the coffee table. “You need to tell me what makes you think she’s in danger,” he stated, looking relieved when Ian motioned him toward the pizza.
He grabbed a slice and took a bite, his eyes fixed on us. It was clear as day he was fishing, trying to see if we knew the truth. Since it was a good move, I toasted him with my bottle of Italian soda.
“We know that there is a magical contract which prevents the PSA employees from even saying the name of the company. We know that the PSA bailed Quinn out of jail last week and that she was placed in disciplinary holding for coming to us. We know that they had a medium on staff whose gift was used to call back the spirit of several serial killers as an experiment. I personally know that when Quinn called me, she was being observed, trying to get me to contact you.”
He swallowed his bite and gave a slow nod. “Okay. Looks like we’re teaming up on this,” he said and looked at Imogen. “Your boyfriend is the demigod, right?”
She cocked her hands on her hips and stared, not answering his question.
Dawson smirked. “Dude, I have an older sister. Your stink-eye is nothing compared to hers,” he informed, glancing back at me. “Quinn wants me to stay as far from the place as possible. My bio-mom was imprisoned there and so far as I can tell, she was either raped or artificially inseminated to get her pregnant with me.” And all of a sudden, the porcelain-skinned male model wasn’t sitting next to me anymore. Instead, a fluffy pillow sat where he had been.
I stared at the pillow, seeing no trace that it wasn’t just another one of the couch’s plethora of them. Even the piece of pizza that was in his hand was nowhere to be seen. That was an impressive ability.
I pondered what he’d said about his biological mother and a new batch of fury boiled over inside me. The PSA was evil. That was all there was to it. They needed to be stopped. Quinn needed to be gotten out.
SIXTEEN
I rolled over in bed the following morning and scowled at the ceiling above me. I really needed more sleep but my mind was doing its thing. It was plugging its way through the problems we faced at its usual pace.
A question niggled at the back of my mind. It was something to do with my encounter with the trickster in Dorothy’s museum. I couldn’t think what it was, though.
Then again, maybe my problem was the raging fury inside me for the PSA. My sister had been asking for my help and I didn’t know how to help her. I didn’t know how to bring that place down.
I glanced to the side, a small smile coming to my lips at the sight of Ian. He lay on top of the covers, his arm draped over his eyes. It had been so late the night before when we’d all finished talking that I had suggested he just stay over.
Having him lay in my bed next to me was an amazing comfort. The warmth of another body, the feeling of love and acceptance, the simple fact he looked so good, it made me want to stay right there forever.
I groaned when my mind flashed back to the look of hatred on Mom’s face and sorrow engulfed me again. There was so much going on in my life. I was desperate for a break, just one day of pure peace.
I was determined to have that. All I had to do was figure out what was bugging me, figure out how to break that magical contract, and figure out if I was willing to put the effort into trying to find out what was going on with Mom.
One thing at a time, Madison. I needed to focus. I should start with the easiest and work my way up to the hardest.
I picked my phone up from the table next to me and thought about what the easiest question would be to answer. Dorothy. Okay. My theory had been that Slip had found a way to contact a trickster to teach Dorothy the truth about her magical items. It WAS plausible. I was no longer sure I had been right.
Something about Slip’s reaction just before I’d been thrown at the wall kept coming back to me. He hadn’t said anything to indicate the thing was behind me. He had looked scared, though.
Ian groaned and turned onto his side, staring at the side of my head. “Mads, we need to talk about how early your brain starts Sherlocking.”
I set my phone back on my nightstand and scowled. “Right now, I’m less Sherlock and more Eeyore,” I grumbled, wishing my mind would stop for just a little bit.
He rested his hand on my stomach and leaned up on his elbow to peer down at me. “Coffee might help your Eeyore do it’s Sherlocking.”
I turned my head and reached up to run my fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m missing something. I don’t know if it’s about Quinn or about Dorothy but I know something isn’t right.”
He shook his head. “You’ll figure it out. You always do,” he said, moving his arm to my other side and raising himself up so he was in a pushup position over me. He stayed like that for a few seconds before he shifted again and stood. “Do you smell that?” he asked, sniffing the air like a bloodhound or something.
I sniffed as well and my stomach rumbled. Bacon. Holy bluescreen. Somebody had made the greatest breakfast food in the world.
I beamed at him and jumped to my feet, almost tripping over his shoes.
He caught me before I toppled and took my hand. “I’ll distract them. You steal the bacon,” he said with a laugh, tugging me toward the door of my bedroom.
Since we were still wearing the clothes we’d worn the day before, we both looked more than a little rumpled. It was a good look for Ian. His messy hair and unshaved face made him look like a bad-boy, something he very much wasn’t.
Imogen and Spencer came out of Imogen’s room at the same time, coming very close to running into us. They were both in pajamas and looked even less awake than us but the smell of bacon had drawn them out.
That was when the yapping began. Pip Squeak scrabbled at Serena’s bedroom door, his high pitched bark like nails on a chalkboard.
All four of us moved fast but not fast enough. Serena opened her bedroom door and the adorable little dog scurried out to growl and bark at us. Since I was used to the Yorkie’s temperament, I kept walking. He took that as an invitation to bite at my ankles.
Ian scooped Pip Squeak up before he got to me and held the little dog out to Serena. “The ankle-biter might calm down if you gave him bacon,” he suggested with a smirk.
Serena took the dog from him and cooed. “Does Mommy’s Pip Squeak want some bacon?” she asked, making kissy noises at him.
Imogen shook her head. “Serena, you are a beautiful, compassionate woman and you are also an utter flake with that dog,” she said in a groggy voice.
Serena made more kissy noises at the dog. “Don’t listen to a word the nasty lady says, my Pipper Squeaker,” she said in a babyish tone.
I didn’t comment. I didn’t like the little dog very much but he was Serena’s. It was none of my business.
Spencer raised his brows at Ian. “You look better,” he commented, sort of making it sound like a compliment.
The Shadow Walkers Page 7
