by Kira Brady
The girl made a face. “What thirteen-year-old wants to be engaged?”
“You’re thirteen?” Kayla asked, horrified.
The girl—who was too filled out to be thirteen—laughed. “Nooo, no. I Changed then. Changed into a Crane. Lady be damned.”
“You Change first at puberty?”
“Duh.” The girl grew solemn, her moods shifting like the wind. “Only a few more weeks till the wedding. Eighteen. Happy birthday to me.”
Thank goodness. A young woman, not a child. Still, too young to be married. Too young to be drinking, for that matter. She seemed resigned to her fate. “They can’t make you marry someone you don’t want to marry.” At least it was true for humans.
“What planet are you from?”
“You can declare independence at eighteen,” Kayla suggested. “The courts won’t allow your parents to marry you off.”
“Shhh. He’s got spies everywhere.” The girl lowered her voice and glanced furtively around the bathroom. They were alone. “There are no courts. The Raven Lord makes the laws. He is the law.” She dropped the towel in the sink. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t wanna marry him. He frightens me. Have you seen him? Frightening. He only wants my ovaries anyways.”
This girl knew the Raven Lord, the mysterious figure listed on the business card Desi had left behind. Finally, after hours of searching, a clue landed in Kayla’s lap in the bathroom of all places. Did the girl know about the key? Kayla tried not to let her sudden, desperate excitement make her smile too sharp. Slowly, she warned herself. She couldn’t scare the girl off. She offered her hand to shake and tried to keep her tone light. “Sorry, let me introduce myself. Kayla. What’s your name?”
The girl looked startled, then delighted. “You don’t know who I am? That’s splendid. Splendid. Call me Lucy, my friends do.”
“Pleasure.”
“Have a chocolate?”
“I don’t know—”
“Come on. We’re celebrating.” The chocolate box shook in Lucy’s hand.
Kayla hesitated. There was a knock on the powder room door.
“Who’s it?” Lucy called out.
“Lucia, my darling,” a man’s voice said. “Come out and play.”
Lucy—or Lucia—giggled. “He thinks he’s so dashing, but I know his shecret. Secret.” She wrapped her arm around Kayla and led her to the door. “He just wants to screw me to spite the Raven Lord,” she whispered conspiratorially. “And for that stupid prophesy. No one wants me for me.”
Lucia swept Kayla out of the ladies’ room and into the dark club. Beneath the red lights the walls glittered like rubies. A towering blond man waited for them. His elegant midnight-black suit and shiny high boots would have looked ridiculously over the top on anyone else, but he pulled them off with an elegant old-world charm that was somehow Regency rake and Viking marauder all rolled into one. A strange lens surrounded by brass gears covered his right eye.
“Would you do me the honor of an introduction?” he asked, the perfect gentleman.
“Regent Norgard, may I present Kayla,” Lucia said with a sudden show of manners. “Kayla, may I introduce Sven Norgard.”
So this was the infamous Sven Norgard. Hart’s boss. Desi’s lover. The probable father of her unborn niece or nephew. He seemed larger, somehow, than she had imagined him. Strikingly beautiful with sleek blond hair and high, sculpted cheekbones, he had a compelling smile and an intense, appreciative gaze. She could see how Desi had fallen for him. If Norgard turned on the charm, it would take a stone-cold heart to be immune.
He ordered both Lucia and Kayla drinks at the dragon-carved bar. There was a definite theme to his décor; Norgard was either in love with dragons, or he was one. Thanks for the heads-up, Hart. She shivered and watched the bartender pour tea into two green porcelain cups. She was usually a coffee drinker—four cups at day, minimum—but it didn’t seem to be on the menu. Unexpected, given what she knew of Seattle.
“Sugar?” Norgard offered.
Stalling, she took one lump, stirred, and took two more. The tea had a floral aroma, with hints of chocolate and vanilla. She didn’t want to drink any. She didn’t trust what was in it.
“Try it,” Norgard said. “I promise you’ll like it.”
He smelled really good. No sooner had the thought passed through her mind than she found herself swallowing a mouthful of the tea. How had that happened? But he was right; it tasted delicious.
Kayla watched Norgard flirt with Lucia. He was heartbroken over her sister’s death. Obviously. Perhaps Norgard had swept Desi off her feet, but he hadn’t loved her. Kayla concentrated on maintaining her social smile, while inside her anger rose. Maybe things had ended badly between them before Desi ran off with his necklace. Maybe he hadn’t wanted the baby. Maybe he had killed Desi himself.
“So what brings you to Seattle?” Norgard asked, after pouring her more tea.
“Family.” She ran her finger beneath her high collar. The temperature of the room had risen dramatically. Sweat trickled between her breasts.
She was glad she hadn’t told Lucia her last name. At the moment Norgard didn’t know who she was. She wondered if he would care. At best, he would pretend sympathy. At worst, he would—what? Kill her in a room full of witnesses? She shook her head. Seattle was making her paranoid.
There was a commotion at the door. Familiar large men in black dusters stormed inside, guns at the ready. She recognized Rudrick—face almost purple with rage—and his goons.
Not again.
Kayla didn’t duck this time, or cower. Maybe she’d found her backbone. Mabye she’d inhaled a whopping dose of Idiot. Who didn’t duck when guns were pointed in their direction?
Norgard didn’t blink at the intruders, or the guns. “It has been a delightful evening.” He swept up Lucia’s hand and kissed it. “I am so disappointed that you could not stay longer.”
“Get away from her!” Rudrick yelled over the crowd. He scattered patrons left and right in his effort to reach the girl.
Norgard ignored him. There was a pleased gleam in his eye as he bent over Lucia’s hand. “Please join us again anytime.”
“Oh, I will—”
“Shoot him!”
That got Norgard’s attention. He twisted a large malachite ring and a blast of arctic air bowled through the room. Candles flickered and went out, leaving only gas sconces for illumination. Screams echoed off the arched ceilings, a haunting noise that scraped over Kayla’s eardrums and left trails of icy fingerprints down her spine.
Chapter 5
The hair on Kayla’s arms stood on end. It wasn’t just the cold; it was something else, something that felt like a low volt of electricity and fear all in one.
“Don’t tempt me,” Norgard told Rudrick over the noise. “My servants can’t be killed.”
“Hold your weapons.” Rudrick shoved against some invisible force until he reached Lucia’s side.
He didn’t acknowledge Kayla at all. She didn’t want to talk to him again either, not even to ask him about the birds. She had three days. Time enough to find the necklace and screw up her courage to face him again.
Rudrick and Norgard stared at each other, an invisible battle warring between them. Tension rolled and Kayla almost imagined she could see the air molecules boiling with it. A truce flickered, unspoken but understood. She wondered if they were more concerned with violence or showing themselves before the human patrons of the tea house.
“Give us the princess and we’ll leave,” Rudrick said.
Norgard lowered his hand. Instantly the temperature in the room resumed to normal.
Lucia crossed her arms, but didn’t protest when Rudrick grabbed her.
“You don’t have to go with him,” Kayla said.
“Stay out of this, human,” Rudrick snarled.
As he led her away, Lucia called over her shoulder, “Lovely to meet you, darling. I had a smashing good time.”
Kayla watched the Kivati leave. She
should have felt more anxious about it, but her limbs were warm and tingly. Buzzed, she would say if she had been drinking. There was something about Norgard that made her forget what she was doing. She couldn’t stop thinking about his cologne, and she found herself drinking more and more tea. She needed to confront Norgard about Desi.
Norgard clapped his elegant hands. “Free drinks all around,” he announced. It appeased the tea house’s patrons, who were quick to forget the incident and crowded the bar. Hart was right. Humans ignored what was right in front of them. They were eager to return to their comfortable, oblivious existence. Or maybe this was normal behavior at the club. Maybe, like Adam suggested, they were in on the secret and chose to turn a blind eye.
Norgard turned back to Kayla with a brilliant smile. “Shall we see if this evening can be salvaged? Let me treat you to something special. Quite the theatrics for an evening, wasn’t it?”
Beneath the fatigue that muddled her brain, she knew she shouldn’t follow him. But she needed answers. If only she could remember the questions.
He led her to the bar. Two stools suddenly opened up in front of them. He swept out his hand to offer her a seat. She took it. He swiped a gold box from behind the counter and offered it to her. “Chocolate?”
“No thank you.”
“One can never have too much chocolate.”
She bit into a piece. She hadn’t remembered accepting any.
“Are you familiar with the story of Persephone?” Norgard was beautiful, but cold. His skin seemed to shimmer beneath the lights, almost as if it were made of a million tiny scales.
“Greek girl kidnapped by Hades.” Her eyes were drawn to him. She watched the muscles of his neck swallow, the skin shimmering as it shifted. A little voice urged her not to take another piece of chocolate, but her brain was slow. She was swimming through molasses. The lights were brighter, yet the room was darker too. Besides, she was starving. She took a heart-shaped piece. “Delicious.”
“I am so glad you think so.” Norgard’s smile was indulgent, like a teacher praising a small child. “Yes, the Greek god fell in love with her and made her queen of the underworld.”
She’d pleased him, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to please him again. Something was wrong with that thought. Struggling to remember, she refused another piece of chocolate. “I don’t think Persephone had a choice in the matter.”
“Oh, but she did. She chose to eat some pomegranate seeds, which sealed her fate. Six months in the underworld as queen, and six months with, God help her, her mother. Personally”—Norgard leaned in conspiratorially—“I believe she was happier with Hades.”
Every bit of Norgard’s ten-kilowatt smile was aimed in her direction. His left eye, blindingly sky blue—like Paul Newman’s—with a strangely oblong iris, was set on her and only her. She could almost feel his gaze rake over her arms and breasts and legs, until she felt naked and very desirable. Under his attention, her plain jeans and borrowed shirt turned into silk and lace. The silk and lace seemed to slide away, until she could have sworn she was naked.
She giggled.
She never giggled. Somehow she felt free, giddy even. All the pain she had been carrying around with her for the past two days suddenly lifted. Her soul flitted in her chest, light and buoyant. She wanted to laugh out loud.
Why shouldn’t she? She was young and alive. Desi couldn’t laugh anymore. So Kayla laughed for her. Kayla would have to live for her too; from now on she would really live. She would not be scared to flirt and laugh out loud. She would be wild and carefree.
She caught a flash of something speculative in Norgard’s eye. Calculating. Despite her happy haze, she shivered. There was something she should remember. Someone she should remember.
Norgard put his arm around her, and she snuggled into his side. “You smell so good.”
The crowd parted in front of them like they were royalty. His arm clasped her. Tight. Possessive. She didn’t have to put much weight on her own legs; he practically carried her through the parlor. She couldn’t bring herself to care.
She felt too good. Full of chocolate. At ease for the first time in forever. On the arm of a handsome, charming man who looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.
He must love her.
Where had that thought come from? Her brain struggled beneath the thick spiderwebs that caged it. “Where are we going?” she asked as he brought her through the back door. She didn’t want to go. Her legs wouldn’t stop walking.
“More chocolate?”
“Gee, Norgard, you really know the way to a woman’s heart.”
“Sven. Call me Sven.” His voice poured into her ear and she realized he was close, so close those elegant lips were almost brushing her ear. He was tall, but not as broad as . . . someone.
She couldn’t remember. Someone big, with big shoulders and big arms and . . . gold. That’s right. The memory was coming back to her. Gold bands around his muscular biceps.
But she still couldn’t remember whom.
Sven placed something in her mouth—another piece of chocolate, she thought. So good she might have moaned.
Sven chuckled, his chest vibrating against her breasts.
“You are so beautiful.” Stop talking, she ordered her mouth. Her prized control slipped, slid, and shattered against Norgard’s shimmering scales.
“I have a feeling about you.” His low voice purred in her ear. “How would you like to be the mother of my children?”
Kayla laughed. He was joking, right? But it was hard to filter through the haze of her brain. Smack him upside the head, she ordered her arms. They flatly ignored her.
“Perhaps you’ve had a bit too much. I told him to reduce the dose.” He didn’t seem to be talking to her.
Outside the cold air pulsed against her overheated skin. She was on fire. Hot. Wet. Her clothes were too tight. Her skin was too tight. Suddenly the wall pressed against her back, and she was trapped between brick and a very large, very hot male. His lips were firm on hers.
She didn’t want to kiss him.
“I . . . drunk.” Her voice sounded very far away.
“Be still,” he said. “You taste of affection, at least.”
Something was not right. She needed air, needed space, but her arms were lead weights.
Her eyelids drooped. Waves of light seemed to flow through her. Fire where his hands touched her skin. Her core self was sucked upward, leaving her body, and she screamed.
When the Kivati sentinels showed up, Hart was obliged to get his ass off the bar stool and run interference. So much for a leisurely night. Oscar met him at the door, and together they politely escorted the Kivati and their wayward charge out of Butterworth’s. The princess batted her long eyelashes at him just to piss Rudrick off. Always helpful, Hart leered at her. She turned white and scooted closer to her babysitters.
“See you next time, sweetheart,” Oscar called after her.
The girl gave him a thankful smile. Nonthreatening, Oscar was. He could be a regular gentleman, if one ignored his penchant for scamming old ladies out of their retirement funds.
Rudrick tugged the girl into a black jeep and gave Hart the finger. Hart saluted him good-bye, and the Kivati sped off.
“What are the odds she gives Corbette a heart attack before the honeymoon?” Oscar asked. He scratched the underside of his jaw with the tip of his knife.
“Three to one.”
“Bet you three ounces he won’t say ‘I do.’”
Hart considered it. He could stretch that much Drekar blood a long way, especially if he was free. But if he lost, replacing three ounces would cost him a shit ton. He wouldn’t put it past Oscar to cheat. “Why not? Deal.”
“You working the drill this week?”
“No, I’m on a special.” Thank the Lady. Providing security for the new deep bore tunnel would kill a guy from boredom.
“Luck to you.” Oscar ambled off, presumably to work on his latest con.
Hart returned inside and met the suffocating iron smell of Norgard’s rage. Patrons started to trickle out. No one wanted to be in the way when the storm broke.
Hart thought he caught a glimpse of Kayla Friday’s curvy form, but couldn’t be sure. The memory of her smooth skin still burned his fingertips. The image of her large caramel eyes brimming with unshed tears haunted his thoughts.
If she couldn’t help him find the necklace, she was no longer his concern.
He was still baffled that she’d intervened in the fight with the Kivati and made Rudrick promise not to hurt him. No one had ever stood up for him. Well, his mother had, and look what that got her.
Rudrick was right—the world would be a better place without Hart in it. Hart wasn’t interested in pleasing other people, however. Rudrick could kiss his ass.
Hart stood and pressed his way through the sweaty dancers, who were too drunk to know to get out of his way. He showed his teeth at the back door and was quickly released into trash-strewn Post Alley. It had once been a trendy lane occupied by restaurants and knickknack stores, a block from the tourist Mecca of the Pike Place Market. These days, with the number of wraiths slipping through the cracked Gate, dark narrow alleys like this one were safe only for the likes of him.
His breath formed clouds in the cold salt air. The odor of urine and rotting food overwhelmed his nose. It was disorienting. He almost ran into the couple pressed against the brick wall, but stumbled away just in time.
It was Norgard pressing up against some chick. He must be really hard up to take her in the alley. Her limbs were limp, her knees bent in such a way that Hart could see they no longer held her up. Norgard steadied her with one hand and tried to pry off her pants with the other, but it looked like her marionette arms kept getting in the way.
Hart would have walked past, left the lovebirds alone, but over Norgard’s sharp metallic scent he caught something sickly sweet, like rotting fruit. Unnatural.
The woman moaned, the sound edged with panic. The familiar voice hit him in the middle of his chest.
