Solomon's Seal

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  And I had to find a way to give it to her.

  Prudence returned with a box of fuses and fiddled with the ones on the stove until she stood and turned the dial again. This time the light came on and she grinned. “See? No problem.” Silence followed as she stared at me just sitting there. “You’re taking that other job, aren’t you?”

  I was. I had to. It was too much money to pass up—just the down payment alone for accepting the job made it a no-brainer. “I am. It’s not just the tuition and the college fund I want for her—I could afford to buy a nice little house with that money, have a great down payment. A house of our own with a fixed ceiling and a new fridge.”

  While the water boiled, she leaned on the counter across from me “Did he give you more details?”

  “Just that I’m to be at his private airport Saturday morning at six if I agree to this.”

  “Length of time?”

  I sighed heavily. “Unknown.” Which I hated. When possible, I tried to time things for a couple of days, a week at most. Once I was away for two weeks and I called damn near every day. “He said he ‘strongly preferred’ no more than seven days and that there’d be something in my contract to that effect. So we’re going to Ethiopia and, given the task and likely location of the ring, my cell phone getting reception might be an issue.”

  “Denny called today while you were out.”

  Oh, hell. I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. Too many men. Too many.

  “He wondered if he could have her for the weekend. It might be good timing.”

  Chase Denham aka Denny was my ex from several years ago. He thought he was Em’s father. His mother thought he was Em’s father. In fact, if I’d married him and just raised her as his, my own father wouldn’t’ve disowned me.

  And while he most certainly was not my daughter’s father, no amount of convincing on my part would shake him from this belief—or the belief that he should have visitation rights. If he wasn’t so earnest and so good with her, I’d’ve thrown the completed private DNA test at him years ago. For now, he was content with the delusion and I permitted him in our lives though I insisted he didn’t belong there. Besides, Emaleth needed a decent male figure in her life. It wasn’t like she even had a grandfather.

  If I was gone for over a week, having him to take Em on weekends would work out well. Pru could handle my little girl, who was generally well-behaved, but I knew full time on Saturday and Sunday could be draining.

  “What do you think?” I glanced up at Pru.

  The thing about her is that she’s pretty anyway—smooth skin, heart-shaped face, delicate features—but she has incredibly soulful eyes. Years ago we could go into a club and I, the decked out old money rich girl who was three years her junior, would pale in comparison to her in jeans and no makeup, boys lining up to buy her drinks with just one look in her eyes. There was life there. A spark of something honest and real that just drew people to her and gave her opinions that much more weight. Even I fell for it and never really questioned why.

  “I think it would be good for the weekend,” she said at last. “I’ll check in with her. Let Chase pick her up Saturday morning, take her to school Monday, and I’ll get her that night afterward.”

  It was a plan. “Can you keep digging for info about Ashford while I’m gone?”

  “Absolutely. And Denny?”

  “Yeah, I’ll call him. It’ll be good for her.”

  The kettle whistled and she moved again to get to mugs.

  Weight was lifting from my shoulders, not completely but enough that I felt my head was above water finally. Nothing had changed, not really, in the past few minutes, but knowing I could take the job made a big difference, and having Pru here support was invaluable.

  “You’re my favorite, you know,” I said.

  She grinned over her shoulder. “I know. I’m pretty awesome.”

  I gave my face a final wipe and no tears followed, then I rose to retrieve the canister of tea bags from the pantry cupboard.

  And some ibuprofen for my toe and temper.

  6

  Skipping Customs

  What gear Ashford felt I could bring of my own, I wasn’t entirely sure, but I packed my usual caving fare—proper clothing, hiking boots, hard hat, flashlights, harness, rope, descender, ascender, and so on. Even if everything wasn’t the newest, it was reliable. Plus I brought my guns and enough ammo to take down a god.

  Better safe than crushed by a deity.

  Saturday morning at twenty past five, I had the cab waiting out front packed with everything but my overnight bag of essentials. Prudence slept still, in theory, though I’d heard the floor creaking under her steps minutes ago, and knew she’d be up soon. I’d talk to her later and didn’t need to now—no, my focus was on Emaleth.

  That early in the morning, her room had a glow creeping around the blinds. With the canopy over her bed and mountain of pillows, she had the look of a sleeping princess—which surely was her intent when she chose that particular bed out of a catalogue. Her guardian Giles remained curled at her feet, not lifting even an eyelid to inspect me as I approached.

  I wouldn’t wake her, not this early. She’d be up at six as usual, begging to watch cartoons with her breakfast cereal instead of sleeping in like the rest of the world.

  I’d call her later at Denny’s. While I was on the plane, when we reached Africa. And Pru would check in on her too.

  Still, my heart ached with a low, deep throbbing. Emotion welled and I blinked back sudden wetness in my eyes. I hated leaving her. Loathed it. I was a supernatural bounty hunter second; mother first. Always.

  And with the payday coming up, maybe I could afford a nice vacation with her, if only to stay home for a month and do normal Mom Things, like go to a parent council meeting or volunteer on a fieldtrip or bring a platter of cupcakes for her class thereby making her teacher’s head explode.

  I smiled absently down at Em, then took a few steps back, not daring to lean down and kiss her cheek as it would wake her and I’d probably turn into a sobbing mess.

  My overnight bag was a heavy weight on my shoulder as I padded silently down the narrow hall. By the front door sat my small pack I was never in the field without, and I slipped it on over my long-sleeved fitted black shirt. The gun harness and weapons were packed in my bag, and I’d decided against strolling to Ashford’s airport with them directly on my person. Private flight, so I wasn’t exactly sure how customs was being handled, but I was going for “intimidating” and not “threatening” with my host so it seemed best to keep them locked away.

  I cracked open the front door, blinking against the damp air and bright light of the porch. The cab idled in the driveway and the driver waited in the front—so he was not the man standing off to the side staring at me.

  I sighed, shook my head, and turned to lock up. “She’s still asleep.”

  Chase Denham held a paper bag and grinned. “Brought breakfast for when she wakes up.”

  In an attempt to solidify his belief in being a parent, he’d given himself a full parental role: The Fun One. The one who brings fast food. The one who will let her eat a candy bar for breakfast. This package said Tim Hortons and I had no doubt it contained an assortment of donuts.

  Little did he realize I fought jaguar shamans, therefore I would always be the coolest parent ever. At least until the teenage years.

  I shifted my weight, fidgeting with the strap of my bag. “And you think you’re going to sit around in my living room until she gets up?”

  “I was excited to see her,” he said with a shrug and offered a slight smile. His charm was still apparent, never mind that we hadn’t been a couple in years—there was a reason why I dated him for eighteen months in the first place. His hair was dark brown and curly, like silk to the touch—he used better conditioner than I did anymore. Eyes were hazel, jaw strong and square, and he had a kindness to him that drew women like flies to honey infused with fly pheromones and really good hair. Former
prime minister’s son—that political charm was in his blood. But his personality backed up his looks: he’d do anything for Emaleth, anything for me.

  But I still didn’t love him.

  The front door cracked open, Pru sticking her head out as she blinked sleepily. “He can wait inside, as long as he doesn’t wake her yet.”

  Denny glanced back at me. Grinned and cocked his eyebrows.

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes, hefting my bag again. “Whatever. I’ll call later.”

  I made it down the front steps before he called, “Liv.”

  A glance over my shoulder showed the pair of them standing in the dim glow of the porch light, mood decidedly melancholy.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  “I’m not the one with a six-year-old for the weekend,” I said. “You are in far more danger than I am.”

  ❇

  Ashford had a private plane—because of course he did—with Laurel James and Dawson Fabrini already on board. And Mr. Rolph. It still kind of bothered me that he didn’t have a first name, or at least not one I was permitted to know.

  I had a passport, permits for everything I carried though as far as I knew Ethiopia still banned carrying weapons, so I had to trust Ashford’s team had a plan for dealing with it. My main luggage had been taken from the taxi’s trunk when I arrived, whisked away from view.

  The small cabin interior was luxurious without being over the top. Seats were plush and white, like La-Z-Boy recliners, single file on either side and some facing one another with a table between. At the back, a curved couch sat by a mini fridge, opposite a television screen.

  I dropped to sit opposite Dawson. Laurel sent a pointed look at my overnight bag beside my seat and before I could reach for it, Mr. Rolph immediately scooped it up, giving me an indecipherable glance as he walked past. His gaze was steady and somewhat unsettling since he remained so silent, but I preferred disapproving to “planning to serial kill everyone...probably with Laurel’s okay”.

  “Always stow things in the overhead compartment.” Dawson indicated above our heads with a shy grin. He had dimples on either cheek when he smiled and I warmed to him immediately; he was absolutely adorable, though I declined to say that aloud as my experience said thirty-something men didn’t particularly care for that adjective.

  I raised an eyebrow at his laptop open on the table between us. “Except for expensive electronic equipment?”

  His large hands grasped the laptop and gave it a tug, showing it stuck in place. “It’s locked down.”

  I hadn’t relished the picture of it barreling toward me if the plane crashed, so that was good to know. I angled out of my backpack’s straps and dropped the pack on my knee as I leaned back in the comfortable seat. A soft pillow was nestled against the small of my back.

  I loved private planes.

  “Have you been on many flights with him?” I asked, lifting my chin in the direction Rolph had gone. Seemed more causal than, How long have you known our weird—and absent—host? Or at least his henchman.

  “Only the flight from Texas a few weeks ago. I was hired just for this trip.”

  Curiouser and curiouser. At least I could maybe bond with the fellow newbie.

  Apparently I had been the last to arrive; within minutes, the engine started. Safety belts were discreetly tucked to the sides of our comfortable seats, and I immediately latched mine together. Dawson took a bit more time, using an extender to cross the belt over his midsection. His hands gripped the armrests and he tipped his head back.

  “Nervous flyer?” I asked.

  He heaved a loud sigh. “I don’t really like being thousands of feet in the air. Gravity is my greatest nemesis.”

  God help me, I wanted to cross the table and hug him—my maternal instincts are their own force to be reckoned with. “I understand—my issues are with being underwater. Scale down a thousand foot drop in a cave? Great. Scuba diving? No, dear god. But flying is actually a very safe form of travel. I mean, so long as we don’t pass the Bermuda Triangle, now that the Pulse has probably activated it.”

  “Are we passing it to get to Africa?” His tone crept up higher at the end.

  “I imagine the pilot has taken that into consideration.”

  The plane rumbled and my stomach gave a nervous turn as we moved through space and lifted off. Dawson still stared at the ceiling like we might land again faster if he didn’t look away.

  “Of course, there was this time I was flying back from London—in coach, unfortunately—and I’d retrieved this medieval grimoire supposedly with a demonic entity bound within the text. It escaped midflight—not certain why, but perhaps it occurred when leaving the protective confines of the area that had housed it for so long. The creature was telekinetic and started tossing around beverage carts and disrupting services to the point the pilot lost control of the plane and we began plummeting toward the ocean.”

  Dawson gulped almost audibly, tension working through his arms and his knuckles going white as he continued to grip the armrests. “So this story isn’t, um, really helping me, Ms. Talbot...”

  “My point being that you’ll notice I am in fact alive and well, telling you this tale now.”

  At last his dark gaze shifted down to meet mine. “Did you crash horribly into the ocean but swim for safety? ’Cause I can’t swim very well.”

  I waved off his concern. “Of course not. There was a teenage amateur shaman on the flight. We had the entity bound once more in the grimoire within ten minutes of it escaping. And I’m not at present traveling with anything—grimoire or otherwise—containing demonic entities, so we’re perfectly safe. And if not”—I patted the pack in my lap—“I’m armed.”

  His shoulders relaxed slightly and his grin widened, cheeks dimpling again. “Thanks.”

  “Livi,” I said.

  “Livi,” he repeated, thankfully. I’d have no more of that ‘Ms. Talbot’—it made me feel old in the way even being the parent of a six-year-old doesn’t.

  Laurel had been ignoring us thus far and continued to, but I noticed when she unlatched her belt and I did the same. She had a tablet in her hands, scrolling through something—perhaps documents related to our trip or perhaps a game. But then she looked too boring to play games. I’d have to get the lowdown from Dawson later.

  He’d removed his seatbelt as well now that we were safely in the air, and reached for the bottle of water to his left. I peered out the window between us; the sun had risen sleepily, casting orange and pink through thick clouds. Emaleth would be up by now and probably watching cartoons, eating donuts with Denny while Prudence puttered around the kitchen to put away last night’s dishes.

  I wished I was home.

  “So tell me what sorts of equipment you’ll be manning,” I said, shifting my attention and smile his way.

  His hazel eyes lit like I’d said the magic words. “Well, cameras and communication equipment while you’re in the cave, to start with. And there’s no telling how you’ll have to get the Seal out, so I have some basics for digging while maintaining the existing structure of the cavity.”

  Cave digging. Oh joy of joys. I tried to think back to my contract regarding hazard pay.

  My cell phone buzzed within my bag and I retrieved it. I expected Emaleth or perhaps Pru.

  I glanced at the number and sighed, then answered the call. “Hello, Martin.”

  “You found my knife after all,” he said, voice laced with what I suspected was false amusement.

  “My knife,” I corrected. “You might have to start admitting I have better resources than you do, brother-dearest.”

  “I don’t know about that. Guess who is at the airport waiting for their flight to Ethiopia for the Seal of Solomon?”

  Son of a bitch. I smiled sweetly though he couldn’t see it. “Guess who’s getting there before you?”

  Silence on the other end. “I heard your flight was tomorrow.”

  I sighed dramatically for his benefit, snapped a photo
of the plane’s window, and then sent it to him. Just as I pressed the phone to my ear again, I heard him cursing. “And how many layovers are you expecting?” I asked innocently.

  “Getting there first doesn’t guarantee you’ll find it first. I think you technically touched down in Arizona before I did.”

  “And yet I still ended up with my knife.”

  “Best of luck, Liv.”

  “Enjoy customs, Martin.” I ended the call and shoved the phone in my pack once more, chewing the inside of my mouth as my stomach turned.

  This wouldn’t be good. It couldn’t be a coincidence he was being turned onto the Seal now, of all times, right when I was. Ashford had competition, apparently, which meant I had competition, and while of course I could steal it from whatever museum Martin might hand it to—should he succeed over me—that was not an eventuality I was looking forward to. Ashford didn’t strike me as the type to forgive me for it and it was my outdoors skill set he wanted for this mission. If a theft was needed, he might seek help elsewhere and withdraw my paycheck.

  “Is there a problem?” Laurel spoke up in a cool voice, drawing my attention her way.

  “Yes,” I said mildly. “I just have to know where you got your shoes.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed. She put on a headset and moments later the dull thrum of music entered the cabin. I tended to be difficult with people who had already decided they didn’t like me and she definitely went in that column.

  “Is there a problem?” Dawson said softly, thick brows raised.

  When isn’t there? “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  ❇

  We landed outside of Goba, in the Bale Zone. The flight was fourteen hours, roughly, and the time was seven hours ahead of home, so I was thrown for a loop trying to do the math. My phone told me it was eight in the evening my time and that made it three the next morning in Ethiopia.