She stared at the gold card, handed only to the most exclusive clientele, and then her lips twisted. “Where did you get that?”
Was this chick serious? “From Eloise, who just happens to be a friend of mine.”
Okay, so biker chicks probably didn’t come into Eloise’s that often. In fact, I was probably the only leather-clad, booted female who ever darkened her doorway, but a customer was a customer and her expression clearly said she believed the card to be stolen.
“Wila?” Eloise came clipping across the sparkling tiles toward me like an angel of deliverance. “Hey, babe, long time!” She swept past the shop assistant in a cloud of expensive perfume and enveloped me in a huge hug. “What the heck? You haven’t called or texted for a week!” She released me with a pretty pout.
I winced. “Yeah, sorry about that. I got tied up on a case.”
“Always with the cases. So, is Hannah taking good care of you today?”
The stricken look on the shop assistant’s face was revenge enough for her sucky attitude, and hopefully this would be a lesson for her.
“Yeah, Hannah has been great.”
Hannah blinked at me in surprise, then plastered a smile on her face when Eloise beamed at her.
“Oh, good. Oooo, great choice. This will look totally hot on you.” She fingered the fabric of the dress. “A date?”
“You could call it that.”
“Well, I want all the deets.”
“Cross my heart.”
She hugged me again. “I’ve got to dash. Meetings. But we have to get together soon.” She clipped away, leaving me with the sheepish-looking Hannah.
“Thanks for that,” she said.
I shrugged. “S’okay. I guess I do look like a scruff.”
She smiled. “Actually, I love those trousers. Where did you get them?”
The drive to the border of East and North took almost forty-five minutes. Thank goodness for decent radio stations. Radio FFS was a hidden frequency station listened to by the plebs who wanted hard truth and fact, and Missy Honour was the woman to deliver them. Fast-talking, no-punches-pulled news and discussion were the order of every afternoon. As we meandered through the traffic, Missy’s dulcet tones filled the Mini with wonder and truth.
“What about these Others?” an irate-sounding man asked. “They’re crawling through our streets. The Southside Hound may be gone, but there are more out there.”
“And you know that for sure?”
“No, but—”
“But what? Scare tactics, that’s what it is. Generalization and scare tactics by the Arcana Institute to keep us in line. If we’re frightened, then they can control us, they can impose boundaries, curfews, and what do we do? We give them the power with our gratitude.”
“So, you’re saying that there are no more Others in Arcana?”
“I’m saying that you need to stop tarring all the Others with the same brush. I’m saying you need to take the Northside propaganda with a pinch of sea salt.”
“And what about the reports of missing homeless neph in Southside?”
“Now that is something the Arcana needs to look into, because no way do I believe we can attribute that to the Others. We need to look closer to home.”
I checked the rear-view mirror looking for Azren. There he was, two cars back, seated astride his mammoth of a bike. His eyes flashed bright green and seemed to lock on me, but that was impossible, right? There was no way he could actually see my reflection from that distance.
He wove through the traffic until he was driving parallel to me. Eyes on the road, Wila, not on the feral Shedim’s epic profile.
Up ahead, the turn-off we needed came into view, and I flipped the indicator. Azren swerved with me as we peeled off the highway onto the slip road leading to the border of Eastside. This had to be the place Tay had been talking about. We crested a rise and the Turnabout Forest came into view. It spread out below me like an ominous green stain.
The forest was a paradox because it led to only one place, back into Arcana. No one knew what lay beyond the greenery because whoever went in was spat out exactly where they’d entered. The Mini hurtled down the rise and onto the flatlands bordered by shrubs and wire fencing. A dilapidated sign whizzed by and then the warehouse rose up to our left surrounded by barren, dusty land. This landscape was Arcana melded with the prison realm. The sky above the warehouse was tinged purple and red. It reminded me of the Draconi territory vista and sent a chill up my spine.
Bringing the Mini to a halt, I hopped out to meet Azren. He climbed off his bike and sauntered over, his gaze on the long two-story building ahead. His attention cut across to the forest.
“What lies beyond?” he asked.
I shrugged. “No one knows.”
He arched a brow.
“It’s called the Turnabout Forest. Anyone who goes in gets turned back around and spat out where they started.”
“An enchantment?”
“Or just an after-effect of your prison realm encroaching on our world.”
He snorted. “Yes, because after all, everything is our fault.”
There was a definite edge to his voice, but my mouth would not be stilled. “Isn’t it?”
He stepped closer to me, looming over me menacingly, his shadow blocking out the sun. “You think we asked for this? You think we asked to be locked away?”
I lifted my chin. “I don’t know. Draconi aren’t too open about discussing the hows and whys of their existence.”
He canted his head, his regard twin hot brands sweeping across my face. “Because neph are too busy looking for ways to control every situation, and we’re done being caged.”
And yet they were confined by Treaty to the Westside. I guess they’d just escaped one prison for another, except with this one, they could see what was on offer but not take it.
Azren’s head dipped until his face was mere inches from mine. “This world belonged to our kind once. We have just as much claim to it as you.”
His sweet breath filled my head, leaving me strangely breathless, not just at the implications of what he was saying, but also with sensations that were wholly inappropriate.
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and then zip it. Spill.”
He glared at me as if hoping I’d self-combust, and the strange, alluring spell was broken.
I took a deliberate step back. “Look, you can hardly expect for relations to be smooth between our people if you persist in hiding shit.”
He tucked in his chin as if considering my words, and when he looked up, his expression was tight with decision. “This was our world, our home, once. Before the Draconi, before man, this was our domain, and then we were ripped from it by the creator and thrown into a dark place. A place we slowly imagined into being.”
“The creator as in the big G-O-D?”
He gave me a flat look.
Of course, I knew God had to be a thing. After all, every neph’s existence depended on the existence of Black Wings, his fallen angels. But to hear Azren speak so casually about it really brought home the bigger picture.
I made a go on gesture with my hand. “So, you imagined life into this dark place...”
“Yes, and after some time, the Draconi joined us and there was war, a whole history of events, until we were liberated by Elora, who ushered in a new age of peace. We owe her a great debt. We owe her our lives.”
“No offense, but Elora seems like a bit of a dick.”
He shot me a hard look. “She does what she must to maintain the balance of power that ensures peace. There are horrors in the darkness beyond the boundaries of our collective imagining. Many other creatures joined us in our prison over time, monsters we hold back on a daily basis, not just to protect our people, but also to protect yours. Other creatures have taken root in the darkness we call the Everdark, creatures that found us after we were liberated.”
&nbs
p; Missy’s broadcast came to mind. “And the Others? What do you do to protect them?”
He pressed his lips together. “Every society must have its lower classes, those that are there to serve. The cogs that keep a nation functioning.”
“Cogs need to be looked after, oiled, and kept in good working condition. Do you look after your cogs?”
Okay, that last bit sounded weird.
His throat bobbed. “Elora does the best she can.” But he didn’t sound too sure. “We should explore the area.” He set off at a brisk pace.
It seemed that the discussion was over. Mind teeming with all the information he’d just thrown at me, I followed.
10
A package was waiting for me on my desk when we returned. Wrapped in pink tissue paper and with a small white card attached which said, for saving what is most precious to me. A.N.
Azren had retired to the top of the house as soon as we’d stepped through the door, but Trevor hovered by the desk.
“Well? What is it?” he asked impatiently.
If it was what I thought it was ... The tissue fell away to reveal the black leather fabric beneath, soft and buttery to the touch, and fuck, it smelled divine.
“Whoa,” Trevor said. “You don’t buy a woman clothes unless you want what’s underneath them.”
“Shut it, Trev. You’re ruining the moment.” The coat slipped on like a second skin, molding to me, hugging me, and yeah, there was a tear in my eye, because damn, this was a thing of beauty.
A cup of tea appeared on the desk, piping hot, followed by a plate of biscuits. “It looks perfect,” Gilbert said.
“Have I told you I love you guys recently?” I hugged the coat to me.
Trevor snorted. “I think she’s high off leather fumes.”
Gilbert chuckled.
I inhaled. “Just give me a moment to savor this.”
“You can savor it to your heart’s content once you’ve had something to eat,” Gilbert said, forever the mother hen.
I carefully peeled the coat off. “Nah. I’ve got to give it back.”
“What? Why?” Trevor sounded stunned. “You’ve been saving up for this coat for months.”
“Yeah. I know, but you’re right. Guys don’t buy women stuff like this unless they want something in return, and I don’t like owing favors.”
“You saved his kid’s life,” Trevor pointed out. “He fucking owes you.”
“I agree,” Gilbert said. “Keep the coat.”
Oh, man. I really wanted to keep it.
“You deserve it,” Trevor added.
“I do, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do.”
Man, I was so easy. “Okay.” I snatched up the coat. “You’re mine.”
A thud drifted through the office door, and Trevor growled. “That demon is asking for a nip to the ankles.”
“All night,” Gilbert said wearily. “He was moving around all night.”
Trevor made an irritated whining sound. “Wila sleeps like the dead, she wouldn’t know.”
I doubted that Gilbert slept, but Trevor did, and even if Gilbert didn’t need to sleep, it wasn’t fair for his quiet time to be interrupted by mega noise.
“I’ll speak to him.”
“Tell him supper will be on the table in half an hour,” Gilbert called as I slipped out of the room.
“Tell him to wash his talons,” Trevor added with a snort.
A hush had fallen by the time I stepped onto the fourth floor, and then my jaw hit the ground as the reason for all the noise became apparent. The lounge area had been cleared out and the furniture I’d thought was beyond repair had been restored to some semblance of its past glory. A bright yellow and crimson rug covered the bare wood floor, and the windows, which had been covered in grime, were clean enough to let the sunset stream into the room.
“Azren?” My voice sounded dry and unused. How had he done all of this in one night?
The door to my left was ajar and a peek proved it to be another room which had been cleaned out. The bed was neatly made, and then the sound of running water drifted through the ensuite bathroom door, which, like the bedroom door, had been left ajar.
He was taking a shower. Naked.
My feet took several steps forward before my brain reasserted control and halted their progress. What the heck was wrong with me? The guy was taking a shower, and I was not a voyeur. I turned to leave just as the bathroom door swung open and Azren strode into the room. His chest was bare, wet, and covered in skating droplets of water, and I was frozen, unable to tear my gaze away, unable to stop it from following those droplets as they made their way over the taut, hard planes of his body to soak into the towel that hugged his slender hips.
Thank fuck for the towel.
“Did you want something?” His tone was light but there was an indecipherable edge to it. I tore my gaze from the towel and dragged it back up to lock onto his face, where beads of moisture clung to his thick, dark lashes and caressed his upper lip. If he peeled those lips back, the illusion of perfection would be broken, but something inside me, some dark, twisted thing, willed him to do just that, because the reality was suddenly more appealing than the illusion.
“Wila?”
My first name falling from his lips was like a caress that tugged me closer, intensifying the strange spell his half naked body had thrust on me. “Sorry. I was just coming up to ask you to keep the noise down at night, you know, the banging. But I see what you’ve done with the place and so it makes sense now and, yeah ... cool.” Shit, I was rambling. “And how do you kiss with those teeth?”
His jade eyes flared bright.
What the fuck? Had I just said that out loud? I held up my hands. “Sorry, I just ... I’m hungry. Supper in half an hour, okay.” I made to leave.
“It’s hard to explain,” Azren said so softly I almost missed it over the pounding of my heart.
I turned slowly to face him. He was closer. When had he moved closer? And why the heck wasn’t I running for the hills? His huge frame was mere inches away now, so close that I could have stood on tiptoe and licked his neck. Oh, God. Why did I want to lick his neck?
He tucked in his chin, and that pretty mouth, hiding those lethal teeth, was so close that one calculated move would bring it up against mine.
“I’d have to demonstrate.” His tone was even, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest belied his calm, and then his mouth was a hairbreadth from mine, and what the fuck was I doing?
Stepping back was like going against a magnetic pull, but then I was in the doorway, eyes locked on his parted mouth, on the glint of those teeth that sent a shiver of fear and want through me.
His expression closed, and he blinked as if pulling himself from a dream. He turned his back to me. “Get out. I’ll be down soon.”
If not for the tightness of his tone, the rigid set to his shoulders, and the fizz in my veins, I’d have believed nothing had just happened, but it had, and the fucked-up thing was, I’d wanted it to.
Azren set down his knife and fork and sat back with a stunned expression on his face. “So many flavors,” he said in wonder.
Trev and I exchanged glances. If this was his reaction to beans on toast then goodness knew what he’d do when he tasted a sirloin steak smothered in peppercorn sauce. Gilbert was absent once again, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was avoiding the Shedim, and after what had almost happened less than half an hour ago, I was tempted to do the same.
He looked up from his plate and our gazes tangled for a brief moment.
“I thought you said you didn’t need to eat,” Trev said. “But you’ve eaten eight slices of toast.”
Azren fixed his attention on Trevor. “And I could eat more. In particular, small, cursed abominations.” He bared his teeth and Trev’s eyes grew round.
My canine friend’s body trembled. “You took an oath.”
“Not to slaughter you, yes, but I didn’t say anything about not taking a bite.”
“Wila ...” Trevor looked to me for support.
I shot Azren a hard look and he met it head-on, sending a bolt of awareness through me and forcing me to break the contact.
I polished off my tea. “Where’s Gilbert?”
“Not here,” Trevor sniffed. “In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was avoiding our guest.”
Gilbert wasn’t an avoider. Being a ghost meant he could hang out anywhere without detection, so avoiding Azren didn’t make sense. Besides, we needed him to dig up whatever information he could on this Lex character before we walked into his den tonight. I should have mentioned it to him sooner, but the coat—the beautiful coat—had been a distraction.
“—could hear you banging this morning,” Trevor said, agitated. “Some of us need our sleep.”
“And some of us don’t sleep,” Azren fired back.
“Don’t sleep? You mean you wandered around all night?”
“No. I watched you sleep,” Azren said snidely.
If dogs could blanch, then Trevor would have been translucent.
“I’ll be back in a sec.” I left Azren and Trevor to their bickering and headed off in search of Gilbert.
His presence was strong in the study. The room was bathed in soft, buttery light from the many electric lamps dotted around the room. Comfy sofas were pushed up against the wall and a small desk sat in the center of the room. A fire was roaring in the grate and then a book drifted off a shelf and hovered at eye level. Yeah, Gilbert was a big guy, at least that was the impression I got. He claimed to remember nothing about his actual life. As far as he was concerned, he’d always been here, in this house.
“What’s going on, Gilbert?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean. You’ve been avoiding Azren.”
He drifted across the room. Or at least I thought he did. Gilbert rarely manifested, and on the odd occasion he did, it was barely for a split second, enough for me to get an indication of his height and powerful frame. He was an older dude, probably in his late thirties, but that was all I’d gleaned.
City of Demons Page 10
