That last question pulled him up short. Where in the nine hells did that come from? Julia was quite capable of taking care of herself, deadly with her spells and knife skills. And looked amazing while kicking serious ass. Watching the fluid moves of her body as she danced around an adversary was the stuff of erotic dreams. Knowing she’d be the victor, unstoppable even against a stronger foe then coming to his bed afterwards made him hard.
In a hushed, stunned voice, distracting Jackson from his fantasies, Victor asked “Revenant? What does he have to do with this? I heard through the rumour mill he was in a tear over something, but nothing specific.”
He started pacing, tension visible with every step he took. “Oh shit, please don’t tell me he’s set his sights on you. You’re dead if he has.”
“No, no, he’s not after us. In fact, he’s told the werewolves to leave us alone or suffer the consequences. Did you hear about the two dead wolf assassins?”
When Victor nodded, he continued, “Yeah that was him. Left a message with them and I have no damn clue what his end game is.”
Julia muttered, “Everyone’s heard of this Revenant. Why haven’t I?”
“Shit... at least he’s with you and not against you, for now.”
Jackson watched as Victor donned his easy-going mask, hiding every trace of his agitation. He gave a charming smile and said, “Well, no need to borrow trouble, got enough to worry about. My contact said he’ll meet with us any time. Soon rather than later. Told him we’d be there this morning. Figured we’d drive instead of teleport. I don’t want the Coterie tracking my movements.”
Julia spoke up, a thoughtful look on her face. “If no one objects, I want to call my friend, Dawn. She’s been around for a while and might’ve heard something. Maybe she has some information about weird demon activity.”
“Okay, couldn’t hurt.” Jackson handed her the cell phone, curious about this Dawn person. Julia hadn’t mentioned her before. Sure, they had the casual get-to-know-you conversation pieces, but nothing overly personal. Next time they were alone, he was changing that.
“Dawn, it’s me. Don’t worry, I’m fine and could use a little talk. Oh, I forgot about that. Yes, I’d still love to go. Meet at your place?” She said her goodbyes and hung up. She looked content, a warm glow of happiness he hadn’t seen before.
Toying with a loose curl near her cheek, he asked, “Who’s Dawn?”
“An old friend. An ancient friend.” She chuckled at a private thought before explaining. “She’s a vampire, quite a well-known one if you follow the art world. Once I asked about her name. She said the irony of a vampire called Dawn who would never see the dawn again amused her. She wasn’t very amused when she said it.”
Her happiness dimmed.
He rubbed her cheek with the back of his fingers, understanding her distress. Vampires were notoriously difficult as friends, their long lives jading them. Even the sweetest, most gentle of souls became cynical and hard after centuries of life. And those who lived through the race wars would’ve seen so much death, hatred and devastation.
He thought for a moment, her description of the vampire triggering a faint memory. He snapped his fingers.
“Oh yeah, I do know her. Her paintings are mesmerizing. The morbid twists haunting and disturbing.” Jackson had seen a painting of hers long ago, a reverse colour oil painting of a nuclear bomb going off. It was striking to look at, like a black sea urchin resting peacefully in the ocean. Once he read the name of the painting, he realized its beauty came from destruction.
“There’s an art show tonight at one of the downtown galleries. I promised her ages ago I’d be her plus one. She’s not a fan of crowds. Something about hearing all the heartbeats and pumping blood. I’ll explain the situation to Dawn when I get to her place. I’m sure we’ll come up with a decent disguise. Hmm, I could probably pose as her mage bodyguard. All the big names have them now. Quite prestigious. It’ll also give me an excuse to go in there with some of my components. ”
A smart and simple plan. One of the many reasons why he adored her.
“Sounds good. Victor and I’ll head out now then. Better to get this done as quickly as possible.”
Leaning in close, he gave her a tight hug and whispered in her ear, “Stay safe.”
Smiling, she replied back, “You too. And if you don’t come back to me in one piece, I’m kicking your ass.”
A quick laugh and a lingering kiss, Jackson left the room with Victor, ready for some answers. The year weighed heavily on him, paranoia his unwanted and constant friend.
He wanted peace, or as much peace as an Enforcer could expect.
Chapter Twelve
VICTOR’S CAR WAITED out front. A decal in the upper left hand corner of his windshield proclaimed him as an Enforcer. One of the perks of their job was parking wherever they wanted and no worries about paying for it. Sometimes, though, Jackson felt guilty and fed the meter to ease his own conscience. He briefly wondered if his car still sat in the underground parking at the Coterie headquarters, one of the tallest buildings downtown Toronto.
The building itself housed the Enforcers (from the different factions except the Fae and demons) that didn’t have a residency in the city. Jackson never felt the need to buy a house, so he stayed there.
Which begged the question, how did the werewolves break into his place in such a heavily guarded building? It meant a breach in security or an inside job, both of which were frightening ideas. Some of the Coterie council stayed there.
Of course, the Coterie may have let them in. Would they have agreed to the breaking and entering of Julia’s house though?
While he mulled this over, Victor drove them to one of the access points into the PATH. Boasting over 125 entrances, they had plenty of options. Only a few, however, were near the informant. They’d spent a few moments discussing the quickest way in and, as usual, were in agreement. Neither one felt like spending half the day wandering around underground.
The giant square Sears building loomed over them. Five rows of windows lined the walls, each row protruding further than the one beneath it. It reminded Jackson of a massive square bowl. Less than a city block away was the Eaton Center and their destination. A huge tourist attraction, it saw thousands of visitors in a day. Shady dealings, without a doubt, overlooked with so many people milling around.
They entered the brightly lit stairwell, joining dozens of other people heading down into the underground complex. The gleaming floors and abundance of lighting made it difficult to tell this was all under the city of Toronto. Lined with windows, the shops displayed their wares and enticed passersby.
Under normal circumstances, Jackson would’ve browsed, searching for any interesting items. However, today, his attention focused solely on speaking to Victor’s contact. The shops a blur in his mind, unable to recall which stores they pass on their way to the tiny, out-of-the way shop.
Head low, the ball cap shaded him, his face averted from as many cameras as possible. He hoped to fool the facial recognition programs he knew the Coterie used. As soon as he went into hiding, they’d flagged him in their database, his image one of thousands. The Enforcers liked using the recognition programs as it freed up manpower. A computer searched hundreds of camera feeds within moments and never complained about needing a break. Something the Enforcers, no matter their race, could do.
While Jackson never thought it’d be used against him, his knowledge of their procedures allowed him to evade capture for the past year.
Please let this person have helpful information, he silently begged the uncaring universe. He was so damn weary of running. Constant worry and dread ate at him, swallowing pieces of him whole until he feared he’d lose himself. The thought of facing down a friend and potentially hurting them gave him nightmares.
A few minutes after entering the shopping complex, they arrived at the shop, aptly called “Secrets”. Compared to the other stores, it was dingy with low lighting. Items crammed onto the shelv
es made it almost impossible to walk down the aisles without fear of knocking something over. Several shelves groaned under the weight of heavy tomes and it was a miracle they hadn’t cracked down the center.
A few fascinating objects caught Jackson’s eye and he made a mental note to look at them again later if he had the time. A beautiful emerald stud earring under the counter glass reminded him of Julia and he wondered if she’d like it. He hadn’t seen her change any of her earrings.
Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t even change the order of them. They were all different gems. Surely a woman would want to mix it up. Was she a creature of habit or were they all imbued? Later, he’d asked her which ones she’d enspelled.
A shady looking customer at the main counter argued with the cashier. He caught snippets of their conversation “Need... Ire... please, man!... Jonesing bad...Ire.”
Jackson knew enough about street drugs to recognize what the junkie wanted. Ire, short for vampire blood. When ingested, it gave an incredible high, like being one of the undead for a short while. The user gained increased hearing, sight, speed and strength without the bad effects of being a vampire. No drinking blood or burning on contact with sunlight.
The experience, though, depended on the blood.
A newly made vampire gave a small high with a slight increases. An ancient vampire, well, they were rare and secretive for a reason. As far as he knew, no one had ever used the blood of a truly ancient one. Rumour was, the older the vampire, the more intense the experience. Like all drugs, though, Ire was addictive, extremely addictive.
The cashier told off the junkie, making it clear he didn’t have anything to sell. The cynical part of Jackson noted their appearance probably had something to do with the refusal. He doubted this place was drug free.
Victor strolled through the store, looking at a book here, a crystal ball there and then calmly made his way to the counter. Rows upon rows of small knickknacks lined the wall behind the cash-out, many of them boasting magical properties. Impossible claims of “Love Potion”, “Gain Inches!”, “Lose Weight!” and many others on the different bottles that made up one full row.
Jackson wondered how many humans coughed up the cash without understanding the basics behind magic. Casting magic into an item, an art form lost through the ages. Making potions was a personal thing, its effects worked for just the brewer. And crystal balls, well, the only thing shown was the user’s reflection. To truly see into the future was a gift few mages had, a taxing and demanding talent.
An easy, confident smile stretched his lips as Victor said to the cashier, “I’d like to see the owner please. I’m interested in purchasing a special item from him, very rare.”
Implied was the amount of money he would be spending. The other man eyed him with the familiarity of a con artist. He surreptitiously checked out the expensive watch, the gold cufflinks studded with small diamonds, the tailor-made suit and the perfect white teeth that gleamed when Victor smugly smiled. Everything about him screamed rich business man.
“Right away. Please, give me a few moments to let him know you are here. Whom may I ask is calling?” The cashier morphed from sneering and bored to courteous and respectful. Jackson coughed to cover his amused chuckle. He had to admit Victor played the part well. Would’ve fooled him too. Just goes to show even con men could be conned.
“Victor. You may tell him Victor is here to see him. He’ll know. We spoke on the phone.” The smooth, cultural voice a new one to Jackson. Usually he had a slightly East Coast hardness to his vowels. It seemed he’d learned new tricks during their year apart.
Giving a polite, impersonal smile, the cashier hurried to a hidden door off to the side of the long counter. He knocked hard and fast on fake wood paneling then entered. Jackson did his best to look at ease while tension sung through his body.
They didn’t wait long. The other man motioned for them to enter. Walking past the long counter, Victor in the lead, they found themselves in a small office. The soft snick signaled the closing of the door.
Jackson surveyed the room and assumed the unknown man spent much of his time here. Rumpled blankets formed a nest on the black chenille couch. Empty wrappers from different restaurants overflowed the wastebasket. A stale, faint decaying smell lingered in the air. The walls bare of any pictures or paintings. No personal touch at all showed in the room. A place to sleep and eat, nothing more.
Several computer monitors took up the large desk. A very pretty man sat in the chair behind the desk. Fine, almost feminine features framed by light golden hair. Dark lashes, ones women paid a fortune for, surrounded pale blue eyes. A thin upper lip paired with a full pouty lower lip completed the delicate face that belonged to a man.
This person was Victor’s informant? He’d expected a rough and tumble guy or maybe a greasy little snitch, certainly not this.
His easy smile still in place, Victor walked toward the other man and stopped a foot away from the desk. “You wanted to speak to me in person, Karl?”
Jackson accessed his inner sight, checking for any traps, listening spells or anything odd about Karl. He found a lot of strong wards in place: anti-eavesdropping, trace blockers, anti-scrying (again, rare for a mage to scry with accuracy), and several defensive wards for overly friendly guests. All in all, about what he expected to find. Karl was exactly what he appeared, at least for his physical appearance. He didn’t seem to have any magical abilities and his racial sense was as a normal human.
Slowly, as if unsure of how much to trust them, Karl explained, “I have a friend, a really good friend, who disappeared a few weeks back. Gavin showed up two days ago and told me what happened. If it’d been anyone else, I wouldn’t have believed him. But, Gavin wouldn’t lie about this. Damn, I wish it was a lie.”
He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to compose himself. Jackson hoped he wouldn’t start crying. It was difficult enough to comfort a crying woman, never mind a man.
When Karl opened his eyes, Jackson realized he misunderstood his reaction. Not pain but a deep rage he struggled with.
Cold hard steel threaded his words as he continued, “Walking home three weeks ago, they abducted Gavin. There were no leads, nothing at all as to why. I put out feelers to everyone I know, which is a hell of a lot of people, in both high and low places. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Then, out of the blue, he’s banging at my door. He almost busted down my damn door!”
He paused again, a deep steady breath eased from his lungs as he tried to contain his temper. Jackson kept a wary eye on him, ready to put him down at the slightest hint of aggression towards them.
Victor encouraged him, making all the appropriate noises.
“This is what Gavin told me. Abducted by werewolves, they held him in a cage outside of Toronto. He said there were several others in cages as well. He’s positive the captives were all human. They injected him with something and it increased his hearing, eyesight and strength. Thanks to the enhanced hearing, he overheard two of the werewolves talking about a hunt which convinced him to escape. That’s all he would tell me. He said he didn’t want to get me involved in this, said they would target me next. I promised him I would find someone who could help. Victor, I’ve helped you many times over the years. It’s time to pay back the favour. You help Gavin and this will clear our debt.”
Victor’s expression implied he wanted to argue, to refuse Karl. However, he gave a sharp nod and said “Where is he? I’ll see what I can do to help.”
“He’s still here. He never left. I couldn’t trust anywhere else except here. A moment, please.” Karl stood, reaching maybe five feet, and the delicate bones of his face mirrored in his slender body. Gracefully, he glided over to the couch. Grasping the bottom with one hand, he heaved it away from the wall.
Who would’ve thought such a fragile looking person could move the heavy couch. Was it hinged? A closer examination told him the truth. A small amount of magic threaded through the very fabric of the couch, almost negligible.
Revealing a small door, he knocked once then a second time before opening it. A crawl space, most likely a panic room hidden within the wall. Interesting. Why would he need a panic room? Did he have many enemies?
A ragged person inched out on his hands and knees. His hair a greasy mess and several weeks of beard growth shadowed the lower half of his face. His grey eyes shrunken in, a haunted look darkened them. Dried blood flaked off his torn clothes, but no wounds were visible.
“Why didn’t you help clean him up?” Victor choked out. By the way his nose wrinkled, Jackson guessed they both found the smell offensive.
“He wouldn’t let me. Just wanted to have a safe place to stay.” Karl stated, calm and without hesitation.
He stretched out a hand to the other man, helping him to stand. Gavin wobbled on his feet, his experience having taken its toll on his muscles. Karl effortlessly took the other man’s weight, the ease with which he did so at odds with his slender body. Tenderly, Karl patted his friend’s arm, a wealth of care and concern in the movement.
A few moments later, a sense of Gavin’s nature hit Jackson. He went into combat stance, gathering energy for defensive spells. Victor sensed it the same time as Jackson and he too went on alert.
“Holy shit, he’s a vampire! Why in the nine hells didn’t you tell us he’s a newly made vampire?!” Anger sharpened Jackson’s voice and he refrained from throwing a nasty spell at Karl for good measure.
“What? No, no! He’s not a vampire.” Karl stepped between them, trying to shield Gavin which would’ve amused him under different circumstances. Gavin stood almost a head taller and, even with the evident starvation, his body was bulkier. Easy enough to hit Gavin without harming Karl.
“He came to me during daylight. No blisters or burns from being in the sun. Not once has he tried to drink from me. I’m also protected against vampire mind control. Part of my wards since I occasionally deal with them.” His voice strong and didn’t waver once. He believed what he said.
Magic Resistant Page 11
