Undeniable (The Druids Book 1)

by S A Archer

  Price walked off, not waiting for a reply. Granger glared after him.

  “I hate to agree with him, partner, but he’s probably right.” Patterson looked at Granger, who didn’t respond, just kept staring at the front of the building, watching for London to emerge. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “No,” he said, voice hard with conviction.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Patterson nodding. “Fletcher will want everyone in on this meet between the wizard lady and Price.” He opened the passenger side door. “I’ll get a ride back and cover for you.”

  Granger glanced at Patterson as he left the vehicle, leaving Granger to do what he needed to do. Patterson was good like that.

  Even knowing that he was expected to follow, Granger remained. The other agents paid their tabs and filtered out, making their way back to headquarters. Granger didn’t follow. There would be a flat ton of agents assigned to the operation today, just in case Sophia King went demonic-crazy like her cohort. It might be the type of thing where one more agent could tip the balance, or it might be complete overkill.

  No one else wanted to follow this lead. No one else wanted to believe that London Eyer might be the key to discovering who this vigilante was, and what kind of magic storm was brewing between the wizard and fey factions.

  But Granger couldn’t let it go.

  The computer crackled as it intercepted a cell phone signal. London’s voice spoke through the car’s speakers, via the Bluetooth connection. “Hello?”

  “Have you seen Riley?” The voice was one Granger recognized. Joe Lansing. The guy from the club. Riley was his karate sidekick.

  “Not since last night. Didn’t he go back to T’s?” Her voice reflected her concern.

  “No one’s seen him and he’s not answering his cell.” Joe’s voice was clipped. “Are you at your place?”

  “No, the restaurant across the street.”

  “I’ll be there in five.” The line went dead.

  And immediately it was active again. The sleepy, sultry sound of a woman’s voice answered, “London?”

  “Selena. Did you get a location on where Derek is staying?” London’s voice was even more strained than before. Breathless and desperate.

  “I have a neighborhood, but not the specific address.” The woman replied, and then gave a general location in Dublin not far from where they were. “Has he been causing you trouble?”

  “Most definitely. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you back when I have a chance.” And again the line cut off.

  Granger scooted down in his seat as London rushed outside, with almost perfect timing, as Joe pulled up in his Jeep. Even without hearing the conversation, Granger figured he knew what they were saying.

  He wouldn’t have to trail them too closely, knowing exactly where they were going, even better than they did, since Ray had given him the exact address.

  But if London’s friend had been taken by the vampire, there might not be much left of him to save. Enchanted or not, Riley was human, and probably in danger from a parahuman. That ate at Granger more than anything else, when the supernatural attacked humans.

  Putting his car into gear, he trailed after the Jeep. Maybe if they were truly concerned for Riley, they’d call in the fey vigilante for help.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Peyton shouldn’t have bothered to remove the wire, since he was getting another one taped to his bare chest again. Sitting in the back of the observation command van he listened to Fletcher talking about the plan. “We’ll be monitoring you. If things get dicey, we need a code word to know to come in for you.”

  “I’m used to being on my own while undercover. How about ‘I need a drink’. That won’t throw up flags, and it will probably be true.” He chuckled a little, trying not to make it sound forced.

  “We’ll go with that then,” Fletcher lifted the metal-sided briefcase and opened it for Peyton to see inside.

  Peyton cupped his palms around the golden bowl, and immediately knew it wasn’t real. The weight was wrong. The quality of the reproduction was flawed. It was odd to say that he could feel it, but he could. The essence of fey magic that filled him reacted with the magic on the ring Deacon had given to him, almost like a static charge. It didn’t even blip for the cauldron in his hands. He glanced up at Fletcher, frowning. “This is a fake.”

  “We can’t risk anything powerful enough to interest Sophia falling into the wrong hands.” He nodded to the bowl. “This will do for now.”

  “It won’t take her long to discover the deception.” He returned it to the case. “As soon as she gives it a close examination, she’ll know.”

  “Sell it. Tell her this is what Reginald had, and if it is a fake, it was a fake all along. Perhaps that is why he kept it from them.”

  Peyton shook his head. “This is too dangerous to play around with. We should use the real cauldron, or not do this at all.”

  “She won’t know the difference at first, which will be long enough for you to ask some probing questions.” Fletcher insisted. “And you could always claim ignorance to the quality.”

  No way Credne would buy such a story, if Peyton tried to pawn off this trash as the real thing. Controlling his features, Peyton clicked closed the clasps. A lot of work will have been for nothing, if he couldn’t get his hands on that cauldron. And if Fletcher got it into his head that it might be really worth protecting, it might get buried so deep in Interpol’s dungeons that he might never get a hold of it.

  Fletcher gripped Peyton’s shoulder and squeezed. “I know you’re going back into the lion’s den on this one. Believe me, we appreciate the dangers you are putting yourself into. We’ve got your back. If things go south, we won’t be but a word away.”

  Peyton forced a smile and gave a nod. “In a way, I thought I might be done with these sick buggers when the Brightner Building went down. I don’t mourn any of them. I would be lying if I didn’t say there is a layer of dread about going back, but I can do this.”

  “You’re a good man, Price.” Fletcher gave Peyton’s shoulder another squeeze, and then he let Peyton carry off the metal-sided case. He hopped out the back of the van parked off a country road where only perhaps a farmer might notice them, if even that much.

  Without looking back he climbed into his own car, dropped the case onto the floor on the passenger side, and then drove off. Only when he was far enough away that he couldn’t see the van in his rearview mirror did Peyton reach up under his shirt, and pull the microphone cord out of the transceiver. Then he knocked the black gem on his ring to the dash as if knocking on a door.

  In a moment Deacon appeared beside him, teleported into the seat. His legs were forced to bend, since the box was where his feet would have otherwise been. “Is this it?” He pulled the satchel from around his neck and set it aside, and then lifted the metal suitcase into his lap. Deacon’s fingers glided over the case, his reverent attention fixed to it as he toyed with the clasps.

  “Don’t start drooling. It’s a fake,” Peyton grumbled.

  Deacon’s head snapped up. “They didn’t give it to you? Despite your devious plan?” His sarcasm dripped.

  “Just go on and switch it out for the replica you brought me. No point in getting killed over this bit of rubbish.” His hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his fingers ache.

  “What’s the point in going through with this charade? Why even go see this lady now?” Deacon quickly opened the case and made the switch. The replica Deacon had commissioned at the very least possessed some fey magic that would allow it to pass a casual inspection. “Your scheme has failed. Time for me to come in,” Deacon said. “Just like I told you from the start.”

  “I am going through with this because I still need access to the buildin
g if I’m going to have to go about this the hard way and steal it myself. I’ll let you know when, or if, your dubious talents are needed.” With an impatient nod, he indicated for Deacon to hurry up. “Get yourself out of here so I can plug back in, before they worry about why the line is so quiet.

  “Don’t get dead.” Deacon smirked. “At least not when I am not there to enjoy the show.” With his wicked laughter, the Changeling vanished.

  Peyton plugged the wire back into place. Playing all the angles, he wasn’t going to pass up his opportunity with this one. It wasn’t some random choice that had him suggesting Sophia, of all the potential wizards.

  If anyone knew how to dampen the effect of the Touch, it was her. She’d done it before, when they’d tricked Riley Flynn to cooperate with them. It might not be ideal, but it was an option worth investigating, even if he’d never be able to return to Ireland while wearing whatever charm she might fashion for him.

  Assuming she didn’t just outright kill him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The neighborhood was rundown and completely deserted. At this hour, vampires should be out cold. Should be, was the primary word for it. Selena could be roused, and so could other older vampires. Some found magic that helped them get a boost. And Derek seemed like the type that could fit into both categories.

  Joe cruised slowly, as they scanned the buildings. She strained to see through dark and dirty windows as she pulled on her enchanted thief’s gloves. “Do you have something that can track Riley’s cell phone?”

  “I do, but his phone isn’t on.” Joe parked and opened the door. “I think we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

  London climbed out of the Jeep and checked the placement of her gun beneath her blazer. Then she started towards the buildings on the opposite side of the street from Joe. Her eyes scanned for any sign of recent illegal occupancy. Broken locks. Disrupted dirt. Cleaned spots on the glass for peer holes.

  Another car rolled onto the street, and London turned towards it. Her breath hissed out when she saw who it was that stepped out.

  Agent Granger reached back inside, and then pulled out an assault rifle, and held it by the balance point.

  London glanced to Joe, who had seen the agent coming and was watching from where he was.

  “Agent Granger?” London asked, trying to not react to the rifle, but unable to ignore it.

  He lifted his jaw towards London. “I figured I would find you here eventually.” Granger turned his head, acknowledging Joe’s presence. “Derek’s still giving you trouble, I take it?”

  London hesitated, and then squared her shoulders. “You could say that.” She wanted to keep her eyes on him, but scanned the windows around them on the otherwise deserted side street. The feeling of being watched was palpable. “You know where he’s staying?”

  “I do,” Granger pushed past her to continue another two doorways up the street. His hand covered the door knob, and twisted. The knob wasn’t locked, but the deadbolt didn’t budge.

  “I’m sure we can handle this guy,” she placed a hand over his bicep and squeezed. Maybe she believed that, and maybe not, but she didn’t trust Granger enough to want to go in on this raid with him by her side.

  “My source indicates that he’s possibly got a hostage in there.” Granger’s green eyes fixed on London, as if knowing that such a claim would hit her hard. And he wasn’t wrong.

  Riley. It had to be.

  Joe was beside them now, his own gun in his hands. “Let’s deal with this vampire first, and chat later.” His shoulder braced to the door frame.

  With a nod of resignation, London drew out her own weapon and leaned to the opposite side of the door.

  Granger aimed his rifle at the wood beside the deadbolt, and fired. In the next second he’d kicked in the door and was charging into the gloom. London followed, with Joe just behind her. The two of them moved wide to either side, as Granger charged up the middle of what had been some kind of store front. Low shelves, long empty and covered in dirt and dust, partitioned the room. The first vampires had been sprawling about on the floor in the dark. These were just as dirty and discarded as anything else in this abandoned place. Newbie vamps, recently changed and still in the clothing they were attacked in, torn and bloodstained. No less than six of them, but London didn’t stop to count. She went for head shots to be certain the undead stayed down permanently. Her gunfire echoed and was lost in the explosions from the bursts of fire from the guys.

  “These aren’t his gang,” London said, rushing to keep up with Granger’s determined speed.

  “Just the guard dogs,” Granger called back, and then shot out the next set of locks. The backroom was more than twice the space of the front, and with only narrow, boarded up windows close to the vaulted ceiling over head. Only the barest hint of light reached them back here, but it was enough to see by.

  The vampires in here moved with more grace. Or maybe it just seemed that way, since they were crawling along the walls like lizards. London, Granger, and Joe all picked targets, but none of them pulled their triggers yet.

  Not with Derek standing in the center of the room, clutching Riley’s body back against his own, taller frame. The druid couldn’t move at all, trussed up like he was. His head hung forward limply, as if unconscious or dead. London was hoping hard for the unconscious part. “Drop him!” She demanded.

  “Does this human mean so much to you?” The vampire almost purred. With the shifting of his body, Riley’s head slumped to the side, revealing more than one set of bite marks. He was no doubt drained, but hopefully not so much that his heart wasn’t still beating.

  “The lady said to drop him,” Granger demanded, no weakness in his cop-honed voice.

  Derek shrugged. “If he is all you came for, you may take him and leave.” His grip released and Riley collapsed to the floor in a heap.

  With his gun aimed right at Derek, Joe hurried forward, grabbed Riley by the back of his shirt and dragged him back towards the door.

  The other vampires continued to crawl along the walls, moving to gather closer to their only exit.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Joe murmured.

  Granger knelt beside Riley and pressed his fingers to his throat. “Faint, but there is a pulse.”

  London edged forward, not lowering her weapon. This vampire was way too smart to be playing these kinds of games. Kidnapping Riley just to let him go as if on a whim? That wasn’t his game. And jerking London’s chain all this time wasn’t just for kicks and giggles, either. Even if they could just walk out of there right now, and she wasn’t even sure that was the case with the vamps edging in around their only escape, Derek hadn’t yet done his worst.

  Whatever that might be, it was something she’d just as soon not discover.

  Whether he anticipated her decision, or caught the telegraphing twitch of her fingers, Derek dodged just as she fired.

  “Unseen!” She shouted, and then dove for the floor to get out of the way of the sudden explosion of gunfire bursting from Granger and Joe, who wouldn’t be able to see her to miss her. Rolling onto the ground, she took the advantage of Derek’s inability to see her to fire at him again.

  The bullocks didn’t dodge this time. Each fresh squeeze on the trigger tore through fabric and flesh, leaving bloody spots that grew across his torso. The head shot only grazed a cheek as Derek rushed to the back of the store room. He dove in behind some crate that cast up splinters as bullets slammed into it.

  The massive clang of metal was way too heavy for London’s liking. “Seen!” She called, to allow her team to see and avoid her as she ran to where Derek had disappeared. Only to find a grate tossed away from a hole in the floor that led into the sewers. Unable to see anything of him from this spot, she commanded, “Unseen. Cleave.” When she crawled into
the hole, she was able to cling to the surfaces, thanks to the enchantment of her gloves. Moving along the ceiling, she followed the sounds of footsteps splashing in the water. Up ahead she could see Derek, and he was carrying someone over his shoulder.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The wire gave a comfort that Peyton wasn’t usually afforded. If he gave the panic phrase, Interpol’s finest would come bashing in to the rescue. That wasn’t something he could have guaranteed, when he worked for the wizards, and he sure as hell couldn’t count on Deacon to pull his arse from the fire.

  It did, however, complicate things. He couldn’t speak as freely as he would like. Certainly not about getting assistance from the wizards regarding his little enchantment problem. He knew that they’d been able to put off the torment in the enchanted before, for a period of time. It was far from a permanent solution, but it would at the very least give him some options. And who knows? Just because they hadn’t ‘cured’ Riley Flynn when they had him under their thumb didn’t mean they didn’t have the solution.

  As casual as any day when he’d worked for the wizards, Peyton pulled up out front of the mansion. He double-checked the microphone, and grabbed the case, and then started up the dozen or so cathedral steps to the mansion’s front entrance. He even recognized the man at the door and gave him a wave before being welcomed inside. “Is Ms. King available?” He asked.