Drystan chuckled. “He hasn’t admitted it, but I see it.”
“Me too. Lainey thinks I’m nuts.”
When Drystan’s attention shifted back to the building, I asked, “How are you going to get in?”
He pulled a lockpick kit from his backpack. I shook my head and muttered, “My Welsh friend is some kind of delinquent, and he just hasn’t told me yet.”
He adopted a serious expression. “I’ve done some things in my past I’m not going to admit to, but this,” he held up the kit, “was used more for learning secrets, than thievery.”
What kind of people did he hang with, who kept secrets that needed to be locked away? I wondered, but kept my thoughts to myself. “It looks like the shift of people coming from work are getting into their routines on the equipment. Now is probably the best time for the locker room to be fairly empty. You’d better get going. It’ll take you at least ten minutes to get down there.”
An arrogant smirk tilted his lips. “See you in a few.” Once he got out of my car, Drystan pulled his black hoodie up so it covered his blond-streaked hair, then slid his empty backpack over both shoulders and shot me a thumbs-up.
I copied his thumbs-up action, then shooed him on with the binoculars from my lap.
I followed his shadowy form down the hill, watching with interest how quickly and efficiently he moved. There were stairs, but Drystan didn’t take them. Instead, he vaulted from tier to tier down the cement structures edging them.
Once he crossed the highway, I lifted the binoculars to track his movements. I noticed that he stayed in the shadows, avoiding the lights in the parking lot. When he turned and pointed upward to one of the lights, I realized why when I shifted the zoom to the top of the light. Cameras were on a few of them. Smart. I wouldn’t have thought of that.
When he reached the building in six minutes, I smiled. He’d had a reason to smirk at my “ten minute” comment. I expected him to go around the edge of the building and try to get into a loading dock or back door where delivery or laundry people entered. Instead, Drystan jumped onto the corner of the tall building’s wall, grabbed onto a decorative ledge, then pushed off it to grip a higher ledge on the opposite wall. Pulling himself up, he grabbed onto a pipe that ran along the corner between the two buildings. He made efficient work of scaling the pipe to the roof of the lower building, then quickly ran along the wall across the rooftop to the door that connected the taller building to the shorter one.
I held my breath as he picked the lock, then exhaled in a gust of relief when he entered without sudden alarms blaring and roving spotlights scanning into the night.
As my heart hammered in wait mode, my gaze seesawed between the digital clock on my dash and the door Drystan had entered. Seven minutes had passed, and then another five. My neck tensed and my shoulders began to ache. Was twelve minutes long enough to get in and out? I wanted to ping his phone so bad, but was afraid he’d forgotten to turn it on vibrate mode, and my text would give his presence away. Instead, I bit my lip and waited, clenching and unclenching my fingers in a death grip around the binoculars.
Chapter Nineteen
A blur streaked across the top of the three-story building. I quickly straightened and zoomed in. It was Drystan, wearing his backpack, but he wasn’t alone. A taller guy in a ball cap and baseball-style jacket chased him at a speed that set my heart racing with worry.
I gasped as Drystan came closer and closer to the edge. God, he would be trapped! When he jumped, my heart lodged in my throat. I watched in shock as he landed in a tucked roll, then jumped right back up as if his legs were made of springs.
Unfortunately the guy chasing him followed, though he landed far less gracefully. He stood and stumbled for a second or two, then shot off in pursuit after Drystan, who was already scaling down the pipe like a ninja.
His pursuer didn’t follow Drystan. Instead, he vaulted off the two-story building and landed on the ground below. I gaped. How was that humanly possible without breaking a leg? I called out in a hoarse voice, “Drystan, he’s waiting for you!”
Drystan must’ve heard the other guy push his tall body through the three-foot hedge to get to him. Instead of jumping down, Drystan used the ledge to pull himself across the front of the building, while keeping his legs out of the guy’s grasp.
When Drystan reached the end of the ledge, the guy was waiting for him at the corner. His arms were crossed, his stance confident, as if he knew Drystan wouldn’t be able to hold himself up there forever. Drystan pulled his legs up a bit higher, then pushed off the wall in a powerful backward flip. Vaulting over the guy’s head, he hit the ground on the other side of the bushes in a backward roll.
“Damn, that was impressive,” I muttered.
Just as Drystan moved to stand, the guy wearing the ball cap burst through the hedge and landed a hard punch. The powerful hit knocked Drystan to his knees.
“Drystan!” I screamed and immediately started my car, yanking it into gear. Drystan held his hand outstretched in my direction. I paused, surprised when he staggered to a standing position, then quickly spun, drilling a powerful round-house kick into his attacker’s chest. As the guy flew into the bushes, Drystan took off running toward the walled edge of the shopping center’s parking lot.
When he was within a few feet of the wall, Drystan sprang into a flying jump, where he scaled the ten-foot wall with nothing more than springboard legs and one handhold on a covered light halfway up the wall. I watched in disbelief as he grabbed the wrought iron railing at the top, then pulled himself up to vault over the railing.
As he disappeared into the wooded area flanking the entire left side of the shopping center, I shook my head in amazement. Watching Drystan overcome obstacles in his way, while staying in constant motion, was like watching a monkey jump, twist, and swing his way through a jungle environment. Not a single action was wasted.
The moment the guy from the gym found a lower area of the wall he could scale, then jumped over it to follow after Drystan, my hands tensed on the steering wheel.
Drystan had told me to wait here. After witnessing what I just did, I had to trust he knew he could somehow find his way over to me without the guy pursuing him.
Fourteen agonizing minutes later, I received a text.
Drystan – 9:00 p.m. ~ Think I lost him. Meet me on the back side of the Furniture Place’s parking lot. JIC, turn off your lights and roll down your back windows.
That was at least two miles away! I drove toward Furniture Place. It had closed down last year, so I understood why he’d chosen it as a meeting place. No one would be around and there weren’t any parking lot lights. As soon as I turned into the lot, I flicked off my car lights, glad for the half moon to light my path back behind the warehouse.
My pulse thrummed in my ears as I pushed the buttons to roll down my back windows and steered my car toward the back side of the parking lot.
I’d barely turned the corner of the building when Drystan dove into my back seat. I let out a gasp of surprise, but quickly buzzed the windows closed.
He kept his head low and panted hard. “Take that…road.” Sweat trickled down his temples as he pushed his hood back and pointed toward a narrow dirt road that led off the parking lot. “Came…this way earlier. Leads to a neighborhood. Steered the bloke in the opposite direction…then doubled back.”
“Do you ever take stairs like a normal person?” I handed him an extra water bottle I’d brought, then followed his directions down the dirt road. “God, that was close, Drystan!”
“Stairs are boring.” His lips crooked as he lifted the water bottle.
Five minutes later, Drystan finished off the last of the water just as my car emerged from the woods, entering an unfamiliar neighborhood. I turned on my lights, then plugged in the GPS so I wouldn’t have to drive around aimlessly trying to find my way back to a main road.
As I followed the GPS’s directions, I asked, “Did you recognize the guy who came after you? Was he someone
from school?”
Drystan climbed into the front seat. “I’d turned off the lights in the locker room, since no one was in there when I entered. Once we were in the parking lot, I tried to catch a glimpse, but his baseball hat obscured his eyes. I think he had a buzz cut or something under that hat.”
I wanted to punch my steering wheel that we still didn’t know who this guy was. “Did you see him jump from that two-story building to the ground? That’s impossible without breaking a leg.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Not necessarily. I’ve seen a couple of blokes jump from that height while doing parkour moves.”
“He didn’t roll like you do to take the shock out of the impact. That seemed an inhuman leap for him to land on cement in an upright stance.”
Drystan’s eyes widened. “He landed without absorbing that jump?”
I nodded. “I cringed watching it.”
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the garage, closing the door behind my car. Drystan’s swelling cheek made me wince. I was glad Mom had gone out with Mr. Dixon so I wouldn’t have to explain any of tonight’s events. “I can’t thank you enough for your help, Drystan. Let’s get some ice on your face.”
Houdini let off a round of vicious defensive barks as Drystan entered with me through the kitchen door. “Hush, Houdini,” I said, holding out my hand.
Houdini rushed to nuzzle my fingers. Shoving his big body between Drystan and me, he growled at Drystan, then pressed his nose into my palm.
Drystan took a step back. “He’s a right big one, your dog.”
When I saw the darker line of hair on Houdini’s tan back fully raised in defensive mode, I took Drystan’s hand and held it out palm-up so Houdini could sniff. “He’s okay, Houdini. This is Drystan.”
Houdini eyed Drystan warily. He sniffed hard, making sure to leave behind plenty of snot-drool. Eventually the raised fur on his back began to lie down, but he kept himself pressed firmly against my thigh.
“You can wash the drool off while I get some ice for you,” I said, turning to pull out a clean dishtowel from a drawer in the island.
Drystan rubbed his wet hand on his jeans, eyeing Houdini with guarded respect. “I think I’ll keep his scent on me while I’m here.” He laid his backpack on the island, then moved around it to sit on one of the stools.
As I opened the freezer, Drystan said, “What’s in that book of yours, Nara?”
“Why?” I tensed, but forced my expression to relax before I set the flexible icepack on the clean dishtowel I’d laid on the island.
He shrugged and played with the zipper on his backpack. “I got the impression that the bloke chasing me thought I was trying to steal his ‘prize’ away from him. When he came around the corner and saw me shutting the locker, he yelled across the empty locker room, ‘It’s mine to present to him!’ That’s all he said.”
“I don’t know why it would be considered a prize.” I frowned and skirted the island to press the towel-wrapped ice pack under his eye. “Here, hold this on the swelling for a little bit.”
Drystan had inhaled a pained hiss when the cloth touched his face, but he put his hand over mine before I could release the towel. “You’re not telling me everything. Don’t you think I at least deserve an answer?”
His green gaze stared at me intently as his warm fingers clasped my hand tight. I couldn’t pull away without hurting him, so I told him the truth. “Honestly, Drystan, I have no clue why this guy or anyone else would want my journal. It’s just personal notes on a project I’m working on. Everything that’s in there is stuff I’ve gotten off the Internet. In other words, nothing super secret or special. It’s available to everyone.”
“Well, some people think it has value.” He sighed and released my hand. “What is your project about?”
I slid onto the stool next to him and started to speak, when Houdini moved close to rest his chin on my thigh. I rubbed his head as I gave Drystan an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Drystan, but it’s personal.”
Grunting, he shook his head and unzipped his backpack, then pulled the green drawstring bag out by the strings. “I hope whatever’s in here is worth the hassle it’s taken to get it back.”
I grabbed the top of the bag, guilt whipping through me. “When you saw yourself handing me this, did you know you’d be holding ice on your face?”
Drystan shrugged. “You said you needed to get it back, so I helped. It seemed important to you.”
My heart tugged that he’d gone after my journal knowing he’d get hurt. “I wished you’d told me everything.”
“If you can hold stuff back, so can I,” he shot back.
“I never would’ve let you do it, Dryst!”
A broad smile suddenly split his face and warmth reflected in his eyes. “Dryst. My first girlfriend used to call me that. It sounds very different in your American accent, though. Better, I think.”
Gah! I couldn’t believe I’d inadvertently used an old girlfriend’s nickname for him. I’d used it like I did “Lane” for Lainey. “It was just my way of saying, ‘Thanks, but you’d better spill your guts in the future,’” I said in a lighthearted tone as I tugged on the drawstring to open the bag. I just wanted to peek inside and make sure Ethan’s book was still in good condition.
When my gaze landed on the smaller dark blue hardback book with brass corners lying on top of Ethan’s leather book, my stomach twisted into a hard knot.
Oh God, no!
“What’s wrong?” Drystan pulled the icepack away. “Is your journal not in there?”
“No, that’s not it.” I jumped up to grab my backpack lying against the couch.
As I frantically riffled through my bag, looking for the notepad I’d used for my interview notes with Freddie, Drystan touched my shoulder. “What’s going on? You’re very pale.”
“I—I have to check something first.” I flipped to the front page of the notepad where I’d jotted down Freddie’s contact information, then grabbed my phone and dialed his number.
My hand tightened on my phone as Freddie’s phone rang and rang and rang. I let it ring another ten times before looking at Drystan. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind riding with me out to Afton?”
Drystan gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him. “Talk to me, Nara. What’s in Afton?”
I bit my lip to stop it from trembling. “I’m worried about a friend. He’s old and alone. I feel like I should check on him. Unfortunately, when I asked you to help get back my journal, none of that showed in my dream last night. But by taking back my book, I’ve also altered the rest of my day, which means none of this was in my dream either. I don’t want to drive out there by myself at nine at night.” Exhaling slowly, I skimmed my gaze past his shoulder to the drawstring bag. I’m worried what I might find when I get there.
* * *
Drystan insisted on driving, and I was surprised he waited until we were on the road to say anything, but the moment we hit the highway, he glanced my way. “We have twenty minutes until we reach Afton. You freaked out when you looked in that bag. I think it’s time to fill me in.”
Even though he sounded calm, I saw the tension in his tight grip on my steering wheel. I freaked because I knew there was no way Freddie would have parted with his book willingly. All I could hope was that when this guy broke into Freddie’s house, Freddie was in the sanctuary tending his ravens. My mind pinged to the fact that Freddie had an entire wall of interesting raven books. There was only one way the thief would have known this particular book was very special, and that was if he’d forced Freddie to tell him. Then again, maybe the thief had the ability to recognize the blue book’s “specialness” in some other way, leaving Freddie unharmed. But if Freddie truly believed the book belonged to me, then why hadn’t he called to tell me it was stolen? Could he have given it to the thief willingly? If so, why?
“Nara,” Drystan called my name in a terse voice, drawing me out of my conflicted musings.
“Sorry. I w
as just thinking about Freddie.” Before we left my house, I’d run upstairs to hide the drawstring bag under my mattress, then invited Houdini up on my bed. No way anyone was getting near those books again, not with my guard dog laying on them. I met Drystan’s expectant gaze and I tried to think of the best way to explain without bringing Ethan into it. Focusing on the ravens would be closest to the truth. “The project I’m working on, the one in my journal, is the study of ravens.”
Drystan shot me a skeptical look. “I’ll admit you have a right odd obsession with these birds. I’ve even seen a couple on your car—which is also weird, by the way—but how is the study of ravens in any way personal? Why didn’t you just tell me?”
I sprinkled the truth with embellishments from my research. “Based on your reaction to my ‘odd obsession’ and the fact some people are superstitious about ravens, seeing them as an omen of death/witches/the devil in bird form, et cetera, I preferred to avoid the judgment and keep my project private.”
He shook his head, clearly confused. “What is your project specifically about?”
I spread my hands and shrugged. “Just the study of ravens. The man we’re going to see, Freddie Holtzman, has studied ravens all his life. I interviewed him yesterday in order to learn some background information on ravens from someone who’d actually raised them.”
Drystan rubbed his forehead. “I still don’t get why you’re so freaked out? You seem really worried for this Freddie person. Why?”
I took a steadying breath. “Because my journal wasn’t the only one in the drawstring bag. A book Freddie showed me yesterday was in there too.”
“How do you know it’s not just another copy of the same book?”
I pressed shaky fingers to my temples, trying to prevent the headache looming. “I hope you’re right and that I’m totally overreacting, but what are the chances of a thief, who stole a journal all about ravens from me, also having a copy of a book about ravens published almost three decades ago in the United Kingdom? A book that I just looked at yesterday? Maybe it’s just a big coincidence, but Freddie’s all alone out there. I have to make sure he’s okay.”
Lucid, YA Paranormal Romance (Brightest Kind of Darkness Series, Book #2) Page 18
