I should have known they’d have a house party to celebrate Lincoln’s return. Welcome home, convict. Congrats on beating the system. Belinda was on the sofa, wedged between a couple of guys smoking weed. Sometimes, a secondary high is just as good as the primary, though Emeline couldn’t imagine prim and proper Belinda doing either, much less entertaining her brother’s grimy friends. Then again, as the daughter of a diplomat, she knew how to straddle the fence.
“Emeline?” Belinda’s face lit up, then turned wary. “It’s been so long. I haven’t seen you since...um...a while.” She gave Emeline the once over, then an awkward hug. “Does Lincoln know you’re here? Are you two back together?”
“Absolutely not. I’m here to see you. There’s something I need your help with.” Emeline pulled out the journal and opened it to the page she’d flagged.
Belinda’s eyes widened and she slapped the journal closed. “Where did you get this?”
A warning went off in Emeline’s head. “From a pawn shop. Do you recognize them?”
Belinda gave a furtive glance around. “Not here.” She led Emeline into a study and closed the door behind them. Belinda sat on a brocade sofa and thumbed through the journal. “Oh my God, Emeline. Do you know what you have here? Ridley would kill for this.”
No, I didn’t know what I have here. That’s why I came to you. “Why?” Though she could’ve guessed the answer, Belinda’s stunned expression almost made Emeline laugh.
“You know about the grimoire, even though as a watcher you’re not supposed to know anything about the Book of Eidos. The book is the worst kept secret in the Order.” Belinda shook her head.
Excitement made Emeline quiver. She always wanted a peek at the ancient text. “What does this journal have to do with the grimoire?”
Belinda smiled and shook her head. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.”
What? Then why the hell was she happy?
Belinda waved the journal in Emeline’s face. “This is a cypher for the Scroll of Heka.”
Huh? “What is the Scroll of Heka?” Never in her time at the Order did she hear of a scroll.
“It’s ancient Egyptian, said to be in the handwriting of the God Heka, the keeper of Egyptian magic. No one has been able to decipher it, including Ridley’s new friend.”
Ridley had a new friend? Interesting. Probably the one Vito mentioned.
“You should be glad you left the Order. Things aren’t the same anymore,” Belinda said.
“What do you mean?” Good gossip always led to good info.
“All of the old guards have retired”—she used air quotes. “Ridley replaced them with herself. You should come back, Emeline, and we could stage a coup.” Though Belinda smiled, her eyes were serious, almost pleading.
Ousting Ridley? The thought made Emeline giddy, but she couldn’t risk anything with Grand’s life in the balance. “No coup for me. Tell me about the journal and the Scroll.”
Belinda’s shoulders slumped, though she stroked the leather cover. “This journal is what we’ve been waiting centuries for. And you have it.” Her smile brightened a bit.
Emeline’s heart raced. Finally, she’d get some answers. “So what are the pictures of?”
“I have no idea.” Belinda shrugged. “I’m an authority on the Book of Eidos.”
Emeline’s hope plunged. “I’m going to kill you.” She snatched the journal from her.
“But—” Belinda snatched it back. “These pictures are duplicated in the Book of Eidos. And under the pictures is one word which translates into Soul Catcher.”
“Soul Catcher? Okay, keep explaining.”
“That’s it. That’s all I know.” Belinda continued to flip through the book and stopped on another page. “This is The Ankh Key of Osiris. We have shards of it in the archives. Well, that’s what the label says in the vault. The myth surrounding the Key says it can open the gates of hell.” She tapped the drawing.
Emeline looked over the edge of the book at the picture of the encrusted Ankh she sold to Vito for a pittance. She’d truly fucked up.
A knock sounded on the study door, then opened a second later. One of the guys from the sofa peered in. “You got more company.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.” Belinda looked at Emeline. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. I want to go through the book.” She closed the door behind her.
Emeline’s mind reeled. Tonight, she would get some answers and those answers had better lead to her kicking Ridley’s ass.
The door opened again, and a couple stumbled in. The woman’s hand rooted around the inside of the man’s pants, while his hand vanished beneath her shirt. They saw Emeline and jerked apart. “Sorry, we thought the room was empty.” Giggling, they backtracked out the door, though forgot to completely close it.
Emeline stalked across the room. An open door invited more guests looking for alone time. She grabbed the knob, about to push it closed, when she saw Ridley and a taller, hooded figure speaking to Belinda. Ridley turned toward the study.
Emeline dashed across the room and darted behind the thick paneled curtains. She pressed herself against the cold window panes and stilled. A shiver raced through her, a combination of the chill seeping through from outside and the fear clenching her heart. She looked down at her empty hands.
The Journal! She’d left it on the sofa.
“What are you doing here, Ridley? What couldn’t wait until the meeting on Wednesday?” Belinda asked.
“The Thanksgiving holiday. People are going out of town. Didn’t know you were having a party. My invitation got lost?”
“No. You weren’t invited. This party is for my brother. Not me.”
“Must be nice to have him home,” Ridley said.
“Yeah. The family is relieved. I need to get back.” Sarcasm dripped from Belinda’s voice.
There was a rustling sound and fumbling, followed by raspy choking. Something crashed, broke into pieces. A thud shook the room. Emeline gripped the curtain, desperate to whip it back and see what the hell happened.
“What are you doing?” Ridley gasped. Then, “No.”
A garbled sound slowly dwindled to nothing.
Was that Belinda? Or Ridley? Emeline dared not move. Someone stumbled and something crashed onto the hardwood floor.
“Goddess, are you okay?”
Goddess? Where had Ridley found a god?
“Yes.” The unknown goddess answered. “I was not prepared for the strain. I am weakened.”
“We’d better get out of here,” Ridley said.
Silence deafened her until the door to the room opened and sounds of the party filtered in. The door clicked closed. Emeline waited, afraid to move, terrified of what she would find on the other side of the curtain, but she couldn’t stay hidden forever. Someone would enter the room and blame her for whatever happened. Summoning courage, she took one step to the left. A tilt of her head brought her to the edge of the curtain. She peeked around it.
Belinda was slumped on the sofa. Eyes open, staring straight ahead with drool leaking from the corner of her mouth. Emeline touched her shoulder and dropped down in front of her. She stared into her friend’s blank eyes. “Belinda?” Shook her. No response. Belinda wasn’t there.
“What did they do to you?”
There were no bruises on her face or neck. Even her clothes were tidy and her hair neatly tucked behind her ear. Her chest rose and fell at steady intervals and every few seconds, she blinked. Technically, she was alive. If you could call the empty vessel in front of Emeline alive. Had she done this? Led Ridley and her friend here so they could destroy anyone foolish enough to help Emeline.
And the journal was gone. Damn. Emeline slammed her hand onto the sofa. She paced, her mind in a tumble over the complete clusterfuck that was now her life. How clumsy and stupid to hide and leave behind the one thing that could save her ass.
Belinda tipped over and face planted on the cushions. Emeline rushed over and spotted the brown leather edge of
the journal peeking from under Belinda’s hip.
“Thank you, Belinda.” Her sometimes friend had saved her again.
Emeline removed the book and shifted Belinda onto her back. “I’m going to find out what they did to you and I’m going to make them pay.”
With Grand’s journal safe in her coat pocket, she opened the door slowly. From what she could tell, Ridley and her cloaked pal had left. Time for her to do the same. Emeline closed the door behind her and joined the milling crowd. Music thumped from the rear of the large room. People gyrated against each other in every available open space. Some danced, others were giving a show and tell—meaning I’ll show you mine and tell you where to put it. Once outside, and away from the noise, she would call for an ambulance.
One hundred feet to the front door, soon she’d be home free. She dodged the drunks, the stoners, the lovers, the dancers, and had almost made it to the exit when Lincoln stepped into her path.
Emeline rolled her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, but choked when an unexpected laugh erupted. She doubled over, holding her side, from the sudden hysteria carrying her away. “Of course I would run into you. It’s been that kinda night.”
Lincoln didn’t return her humor. He stood there, arms folded over his chest, trying to appear intimidating. “I was going to let you go. Leave you alone to live your life after seeing you at the club. Then you show up here, to see me.” He signaled to the DJ and the music ended. “You miss me, baby? Came to apologize? Kiss and make up? Start on your knees.” He pointed to the hardwood floor.
A circle formed around them. Emeline scanned the crowd, checking for Ridley and the mysterious goddess. Lincoln whistled, snapped his fingers in front her face. “Don’t have all day.”
What did I ever see in this morally bankrupt, egotistical man? Definitely not her finest moment. He opened his pants. Unzipped his fly. Took out his less than impressive, erect dick, and stood there with a stupid grin. He chanted ‘knees’ and the crowd joined the chorus. Her blood boiled at him, the drunk crowd, Ridley, Avery, everything. The crowd wanted a show. Tonight, they came to the right place.
With a sultry grin plastered on her face, Emeline slowly licked the palm of her hand. She drew the action out, making it as lascivious as possible while the men around hooted and hollered. Then she clasped his dick. She stroked up from the base, circled the head, and let her hand slide down. Lincoln’s head fell back and he groaned, deep and throaty. Catcalls swept through the room along with flashes from cell phone cameras as he thrust his hips out and began rocking. “You remember how I like it.” He panted.
How he liked it was pretty much how every man liked it and nothing noteworthy to remember. That was Lincoln’s problem; he thought he was special because of his family’s influence and because his genitals dangled.
She’d fallen for it. So what did that say about her standards? Not much, but tonight wasn’t about reminiscing. After what happened to Belinda, Emeline had a taste for vengeance and Lincoln volunteered to be on the menu.
She cupped his balls, rolled them in her hand. He moaned, gave a throaty laugh and high-fived the dude standing next to him.
Yeah, enjoying it bastard? She tightened her hand, ready to strike.
Awareness pricked her senses. Darkness swirled at the edge of her mind, drowning her in waves of fury. She fought it, retreating would allow the sensation to swallow her. Unconscious at Lincoln’s mercy, and the crowd was not an option.
She shook her head to clear the fog—and collided with Avery’s feral glare.
Chapter Fifteen
Though her insides squirmed and urged her to tuck tail and run, Emeline couldn’t move. Avery’s furious glare rooted her to the spot. His lips were peeled back and he growled. She actually heard it. Swore she felt the sound reverberate in her chest. He shoved two people out of his way and broke the circle, just as she twisted Lincoln’s junk three hundred and sixty degrees.
He screamed, went up on his tip-toes, “Get her off! Get her off!”
Emeline jabbed her elbow into his throat and the heel of her palm into his nose. His head snapped back, blood gushed and splattered on her. All the while, she kept his dick and balls in a vise grip. A fist from one of Lincoln’s friends came flying at her head.
Avery blocked the blow and tossed the guy into the nearest wall. Another came at him. A quick jab and an uppercut knocked his opponent senseless. “Wanna let go of his shit or do you plan on taking it home for Christmas?” he shouted over the din while putting a guy in a headlock and flinging him into the wall.
“I don’t want this under my tree.” Emeline kicked Lincoln’s knee and released his parts. He collapsed, cradling his crotch. She picked up a bottle of whiskey next to the punch bowl, doused her offending hand, and dried her palm on her jeans.
She hadn’t come here to start a brawl, but—oh well.
Fists were flying. Men and quite a few women were mixing it up. A few ducks and dodges, deflections and redirected fists, she avoided being hit.
She grinned as Lincoln crawled away and started after him. He deserved a bit more punishment. A body barreled into her side and knocked her into the table. The punch bowl tipped and drenched her in a fruity concoction. She didn’t have time to wallow in disgust because Avery had one hand clamped around Lincoln’s skinny throat and the other hand machine gunning his grill.
She grabbed Avery’s fist, thinking she could stop him. He shattered that illusion. His fist kept pistoning. “Enough! He’s not worth ending up in jail. Let’s go.”
Avery stood, dragging Lincoln up with him, then discarded him like the refuse he was. He propelled Emeline forward with a hand on the small of her back. Shoving the foolish out of their way, Avery didn’t stop until she was sitting in the passenger seat of the Range Rover.
“Don’t. Move.” He slammed the door and walked around the front of the SUV.
He really liked those one-word sentences, she noted. The creepy sensation she’d experienced lingered, leaving her nauseated and bewildered. What had happened?
Avery climbed into the driver’s seat.
There’s only one way he’d found her. “So where did you plant the bug?” Probably not where he would’ve liked to plant it, she thought waiting for his answer.
“Keychain.” He started the car and drove sedately down the residential street until a speeding police car had zoomed by.
Emeline pulled her keys out of her pocket. A tiny bug dangled like an accessory. She plucked it off her key chain and tossed it out of the window.
“So anxious to see your ex, you sneak out of the house? All you had to do was tell me and I would’ve dropped you on his damn doorstep.”
“I wasn’t there for Lincoln,” she shouted.
“Then why? Why were you at that house?” he barked and took a sharp curve to fast. The tires squealed and Emeline bounced off the door.
She glanced at the hard cut of his jaw, the white-knuckled grasp of the steering wheel. The man wore the bad-ass visage as if it were a second skin, an impenetrable armor. Yeah, he defended her twice tonight. Did that make him trustworthy or just doing his job?
Emeline bit her lip. She needed him in her corner. Should she tell him everything? Could she trust him with part of the truth? She thought of the drool rolling down Belinda’s chin.
“I needed some information about the drawings. Lincoln’s sister, Belinda, is an authority on Egyptian artifacts.” Not quite true, but would do.
Stone-faced, “And it couldn’t wait until morning?”
She crossed her arms and sunk down into the seat. “No.” If she had waited, the miniscule amount of info she’d received would’ve been lost.
“You don’t need a bodyguard, you need a babysitter,” he sneered and swerved around slower traffic.
She grabbed hold of the ‘oh crap’ bar and fumbled with the seatbelt. “You know damn well they’re one and the same. So stop bitching.” She glared into his slightly surprised eyes. “I did it. I left. I didn’t do it to pis
s you off. If I had waited, to talk you into letting me go, it would’ve been too late.”
She couldn’t get Belinda’s slack-jawed expression out of her head. Whatever they did to Belinda, they were going to do to her. She just knew it.
An indescribable look crossed his face, then he turned back to the road. “What happened in there?”
Emeline looked out the window. Telling him might involve tears and she wouldn’t cry, not in front of him. The silence stretched and the miles ticked by. She rolled the window down, closed her eyes, and let the cold air beat her.
“So Lincoln just happened to be there. Coincidence, huh?”
She didn’t owe him an explanation, didn’t owe him anything. “They’re siblings and that’s her house. I had no idea there was a party or that he would be there. And even if I did, I still would’ve gone. Not that it is any of your business.” So why did she explain herself? “This conversation is over.” She slouched in the seat and closed her eyes.
The car rolled to a stop, jarring her awake. She stretched and a yawn escaped. How long had she been asleep? The driver’s seat was empty. Her car door opened and there stood Avery, face tight, muscles tense. Anger still radiated from him. She shook off her sleepiness and didn’t fight him when he leaned that big body close, reached over to unsnap her seatbelt, and helped her from the car. A deep breath filled her lungs with salty air that tickled her nose.
“Where are we?” She looked around at the deserted street. This wasn’t Harlem.
“Westchester. The river is that way.” He turned her toward the front door of the building where they had parked. His hand slid down her back and propelled her forward.
“And why are we here?” She asked, letting him guide her.
He nudged her ahead of him, into the building. They walked down a hallway to a freight elevator and rode to the fourth floor. The door opened to a single metal door in a 5x8 hall. He stopped at a keypad and pressed his thumb against the illuminated console. A low beep and the door opened.
Evermore (Descendants of Ra: Book 3) Page 13
