“No hands,” she said with her palms in the air. “Looks pretty plain for something like that.”
“I know,” I agreed. “Believe me, no one was more shocked than I was to find out what it was.”
She pointed to the thin line running down the center. “What does that line mean?”
“See, that’s the problem. No one knows. I guess we’ll figure it out when we find the vessel.”
Katie shuddered and walked back to the library table. “This is all very 007-meets-Harry-Potter, Alex. I’ll let you know tomorrow if I believe any of it.” She continued sorting through the books left over from the night before. “God, I hope you’re not crazy, Alex. I have enough crazy friends.”
Tomorrow was a delicate subject. I’d come to the shop to explain Lumen, among other things, but the real reason was to see about getting some time off. Apollo was the store manager, but I wanted to run it by Katie first to see if she had any advice on how to approach him. It wasn’t like I was some highly prized professional going on hiatus. I was a clerk in a used bookstore, and my job could be filled by the next warm body that walked through the door. I figured I’d be out for a couple of weeks at the most, but the shop couldn’t operate with only two people for that long.
“Yeah, about tomorrow.” I let out a deep sigh. “I love working here, but—”
“Really?” she said. “Love is a strong word for a used bookstore gig. Think big, Alex.”
“I need some time off.” I gauged her reaction before continuing. “There are these guys after me, and I kind of need to do something about it. A couple of weeks, tops.”
“God, Alex. No!” She dropped a pile of books back on the table. “You’re the only one who stuck. Do you know how hard it is to get someone in here who we actually like?”
“Yeah…well…these guys—”
“Apollo is going to shit!”
“What am I going to shit about?” Apollo walked through the front door and dropped his backpack on the counter. A mass of brown curls hit his forehead as he turned around, making him look more like a high school boy than a man with a master’s degree. “Problem, ladies?”
Katie motioned for me to spill the good news, and I explained that I needed to take a couple of weeks off for health reasons. It wasn’t exactly a lie.
Apollo reacted about the same as Katie had, only he managed to do it silently with a look that showed how disappointed he was with me. He was the manager, and I knew it was hard for him to tell me that he had no choice but to find a replacement.
“I hate this, Alex, but I don’t own the place.”
“What about a temp?” Katie suggested.
“We can’t afford a temp.” With their agency fees on top of the hourly wage, temps were expensive. A small mom-and-pop like Shakespeare’s Library just didn’t have the budget for one.
“Then I guess this is it.” I felt sick from the realization that my job at the shop was over.
“You’re leaving today?” Katie asked.
I’d let them down, burdened everyone with double shifts because Greer wouldn’t budge on starting my training that afternoon. Every minute we wait, you’re a walking target. I knew he was right.
I left the shop and met Rhom outside. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as I cried, politely allowing me the luxury of grief.
THREE
I opened my eyes to pitch black. Not a single thing stood out from the darkness. I felt weightless because without any reference points, my body had nothing to anchor to.
The air was cool and smelled like fresh paint and rubber. I tried to move my arms but they were stuck, tied behind the chair I was sitting in.
“Greer?” There was no answer, but I already knew I was alone. I would have smelled him if he was in the room.
Rhom and I left Shakespeare’s Library that morning with the intention of going straight back to the house. We stopped at the corner market to pick up some magazines to get me through the isolation period I was about to endure. The last thing I remembered before waking up in the chair was walking out of the market and looking for Rhom.
“Okay, Greer. That’s enough!”
I wasn’t too concerned. I knew who’d tied me up. At least I thought I did. But my ease was disintegrating as more time ticked by, and the dead silence of the room started to do a number on my head.
My heart raced as my eyes worked to adjust to the darkness. But without even the tiniest hint of light in the room, there was nothing to adjust to.
I heard a faint sound, and a thin sliver of light appeared in the center of the room, illuminating a haze of translucent, floating dust. By the time I followed the light to its source, the door had shut. Either someone just entered the room, or someone just left.
“I know you’re in here. I can hear you.” I couldn’t hear anything, but I thought I’d give the bluff a shot.
A footstep on the other side of the room confirmed that I wasn’t alone. Another one hit the floor, and then another, each one subtly moving across the length of the room. It must have been a large space, because the footsteps went on forever, getting quieter as they moved away and louder as they came back.
As my nerves kicked in, I started counting the steps. Seventeen in each direction, each one evenly spaced and timed for perfect rhythm.
My breath caught as I heard the footsteps moving toward me again. I could hear them right next to me, pausing for a moment before continuing. When they stopped directly behind me, I thought I’d be sick.
“Say something. Please,” I pleaded, trying not to sound too desperate. “Just say something.”
A pair of hands cupped my shoulders and slowly moved up to where my clavicle bone curved toward my neck. Thumbs sank into the muscles of my back, while fingers wrapped over the top of my shoulders and gripped my skin.
I sniffed the air, but it wasn’t Greer I smelled.
“Shhhh.” A breath warmed my ear as a scarf fell over my eyes.
Why use a blindfold in a pitch-black room? Maybe I was being moved somewhere else.
He was walking again. I could hear him behind me, moving farther away toward the back of the room. A cold chill ran through my body as I recognized the sound of steel brushing against steel. I could almost hear the blade moving through the air as he picked it up and started walking toward me again. I tried to say something profound that might trigger any humanity or mercy in him before I felt the edge of that knife against my skin, but my vocal cords froze. I didn’t think that could actually happen. How could you just lose your ability to speak?
He stopped behind me, and I felt the tip of the steel press against my bare shoulder. The blade dragged down my biceps and across my restrained forearm, pushing with just enough pressure to keep it from penetrating the surface of my skin. It moved past my wrist, and the tip of the blade settled in the center of my hand. I screamed as the steel punctured the thick flesh of my palm with a steady cut that continued upward until it reached the scarf wrapped around my wrists. With a swift flick, the tie was severed and my hands were free.
Something burned inside of me, but it wasn’t coming from my hand. I stood up, still blindfolded, and walked straight ahead. I stopped and reached for the wall a foot away, my eyes burning like lit lanterns. My lids remained shut as I removed the scarf. When the burning finally stopped, I opened them.
I turned my hand to look at the cut, and a bright glow illuminated the blood as it ran down my fingers like black oil tinged with purple and blue. The entire room was lit up by the sapphire disco balls in my eyes, allowing me a good look at my captor.
The man on the other side of the room crooked his finger at me. “Come and get me, little girl,” he taunted.
Little girl? Game on.
I ran straight at him because his throat was still intact. But before I could reach for his jugular, I felt the blow of an invisible wall slam against my face, sending me to the floor.
He bent down and hovered over me as the pain did its job. “You’re not the only o
ne with a shield,” he said.
He straightened back up and extended his hand. I took it and then grabbed the knife in his other hand. A short laugh burst from his throat as he looked at his empty hand and then at the knife in mine, grinning as he processed his careless faux pas. “Touché,” he complimented with a strange sense of pride. “You’re better than I thought.”
“You’re fucking right I am.”
He pulled me to my feet and stepped back. I took a deep breath and anticipated my next move. It would be my last for the evening—his, too. The knife lifted over my head. I considered gutting him with an upward jab, but an overhead was a sure thing. My arm stopped as I brought it back down. The tension around my wrist increased as another guy standing behind me confiscated the stolen knife.
“Fuck.” I looked back and forth between the two of them. Without a weapon I was dead. The door to my right was a long shot, but I took my chances and ran for it. I reached it first and ran through it, straight outside into the night air. I was thankful for that because stairs or an elevator might have gotten me killed.
They were right behind me, closing the distance between us as I looked around to get my bearings. If we were in Manhattan, I should have run straight into a building or a street, anything but the black void directly in front of me. There was a short wall directly in my path, maybe two feet tall. When I lifted my foot to jump over it, my knee hit the top and stopped me. The air vacuumed from my lungs as I nearly dove over the edge of the building. I was looking down at the street—a good twenty stories below.
“What the hell?” I looked back at Greer and Rhom, trying to make sense of what was happening and how I ended up on the edge of a building. A minute ago I was running for my life, escaping an attack from…Greer? It was Greer?
I looked down at my throbbing hand, horrified by the sight of the wound and the memory of Greer dragging a knife through my flesh. Actually, it was more of a pink line, no longer bleeding and already starting to heal.
“It’s your blood,” he said.
His words rattled around my head like a foreign language, incomprehensible and useless. He walked up to me and took my wrist, running his finger over the blood caked down my arm, triggering a volatile reaction from the core of my stomach as his red-stained finger pulled away.
“It sets you off like a bomb.”
I expected to feel a little drained the next morning due to the stunt Greer pulled the night before, but I felt just the opposite. My mind was clear and my energy level was through the roof.
The smell of food drew me down to the kitchen. Greer was eating breakfast when I walked into the dining room.
“I’m surprised you’re still here.” He was usually gone by the time I got up, but today he was eating and reading the paper like it was Sunday or a holiday. Apparently, it was me making him late for work, because last night wasn’t finished.
With a fork, I speared a pancake from the platter on the table and a couple pieces of bacon. I figured that would do for starters, but with my appetite I could have finished it all. I waited for Greer to say something. He just sat there, drinking his coffee and looking at me suspiciously like I’d done something inappropriate.
“What?” I looked at the food on my plate. “I left some.”
Sophia came into the dining room and placed a cup in front of me. “Thank you, ma’am,” I said as she graciously poured my coffee.
She did a double take as she turned back toward the kitchen. A second later, the French press hit the table as her hands planted on her hips.
“What? Why is everyone looking at me like that?”
“You don’t look so good.” Sophia turned to Greer who was still staring at me. “Mr. Sinclair, what you do to her last night?”
They both kept staring at me, so I finally got up and went into the living room to see for myself. I looked in the mirror and lost my breath. “Yeah!” I yelled back toward the dining room, “what did you do to me last night?”
My hand was sore and had a pink line running the length of my palm. I remembered the blood running down my fingers, and for some reason the image made my temper flare.
“Greer!” I stomped back to the dining room. “Library. Now!”
Sophia muttered something in Italian. “You better go, Mr. Sinclair. I don’t think Miss Alex is kidding around.”
Greer looked at his housekeeper and nodded. “You are correct, Sophia. Miss Alex is definitely not kidding around.”
He placed his napkin on the table and followed me into the library. As soon as the door closed I confronted him. “What the hell happened last night?”
What I’d seen in the mirror scared and angered me at the same time. The whites of my eyes were pale blue, and my pupils were elongated. I looked like a freak.
“Explain this, please.” I pointed to my eyes and opened my hand to expose the faded scar.
“Don’t you remember?”
“I remember standing on the edge of a building.” I looked at my palm. “Did you stab me?”
“Lesson one was a success,” he declared with a casual tone that suggested there was nothing unusual about having blue cat eyes. “We now know what triggers you. And by the way, I’m a little disturbed by how easy it is for you to try to kill me.”
I shook my head and began pacing the floor. “This is crazy. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” The memory of quitting my job and walking out of Shakespeare’s Library came rushing back, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of loss. “I feel sick.”
“We’ve been through this, Alex. You’re the one who decided it was time to face it head on, and I have to agree with that decision.” He respected the space I’d put between us and stayed on the other side of the room. “We know exactly what brings out the devil in you, so now we can focus on controlling it.”
“Control it?” I stopped pacing and looked at him like he’d just kicked me in the shin. “You mean control me?”
“Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” He shook his head. “You don’t need a gun, and someday you won’t need me. I’m going to make you into a badass, Alex.”
I fought the grin spreading across my face. “Badass, huh? So, what exactly is my trigger?” I was still drawing a big blank about the previous night. I ran my fingers over the mark on my palm. “Blood? Is that it?”
Greer took a seat and told me to do the same. The details were short and to the point. Rhom administered the magic Kool-Aid on the way home from the shop yesterday, and I was more than willing to accompany him to the facility Greer referred to as CTC.
As he replayed the events of the evening, I could see bits and pieces of what had happened in that room. My hands were tied and the room was dark. Footsteps were moving back and forth across the floor, and then they stopped behind me.
“You sliced me open!” I remembered the knife moving down my arm before he plunged it into my palm.
I stood up. An uncomfortable wave of heat flashed through me as the memory of seeing my blood run down my arm turned my thoughts violent.
Greer must have sensed the shift taking place in my head, because he stood up and carefully slipped his hands around my tensed arms to pull me against him. “It’s in your head, Alex,” he whispered. “It’s just a memory.” He took my hand and showed me the closed wound. “No more blood. It’s safe.”
I looked at my hand with a strange fascination, and then back at Greer. I sat back down, the rage subsiding. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was Greer in that dark room dragging a knife through my skin, and I understood why he did it.
“I didn’t know it was you, Greer. You smelled different. You smelled awful.”
“I needed you on the defensive. I thought it wiser to make you feel isolated from the familiar.” He snorted a short laugh. “Never underestimate the power of a bad cologne.”
He sat back down and crossed his legs. “There’s no doubt it’s your blood. Your powers are triggered when you bleed.” He shook his head. “You, my love, are a walkin
g grenade.”
Before last night, I’d shifted—seemed like an appropriate description—twice since coming back to New York, and both times involved the drawing of my blood. If Greer was right, I was a walking powder keg.
“Okay. Where do we go from here?”
The intensity in his eyes made me uneasy, but it was the length between my question and his answer that told me I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“I think we need to rule out if it’s a compound effect.”
“If what’s a compound of what?”
“We know you’re triggered when you bleed, but I’m questioning if it’s that alone.” He got up and looked out the window next to the desk. I could feel his discomfort as he worked out how to say what was on his mind. That made me even more nervous because Greer usually had no problem administering orders. They usually came swift and matter-of-fact.
“More testing,” he finally said. “We need to run another test.”
“You mean you need to cut me again.”
“Possibly, but I think there’s a simpler way.” He headed for the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I paced the room, examining the faded scar on my hand as the night in CTC came back to me. Rhom had been there, too, and possibly responsible for saving Greer’s life. That’s assuming I was strong enough to kill him.
Greer returned a few minutes later with Rhom. He dropped a small black bag on the desk and rifled through the top drawer. When he found what he was looking for, he asked me to sit.
“I’ll sit after you tell me what’s in your hand—and that bag.”
He held up a pair of handcuffs. “Insurance.”
I thought it strange that he needed to fetch Rhom, and even stranger that he had a pair of handcuffs in his desk drawer.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
He shook his head and pointed to the chair.
“If I snap, you don’t really think those will stop me, do you?”
“No, but they’ll give me the advantage.”
The Blood Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 2) Page 3
