by Jane Cousins
“And maybe get in a few of those stolen kisses?” Heat shimmered in those burnished golden eyes.
“Yes.”
“Maybe we could re-enact that hot kiss in the Haunted House? That’s if we can still squeeze into the ride.”
“Hey, are you implying I’m fat?” Hadleigh punched her husband, actually managing to rock him sideways slightly.
“No.” Vaughn planted another kiss on her lips. “Never. You’re perfect.” He pulled her to her feet, grabbing Hadleigh’s hand and tucking her in close to his body. “Before we head over to the Haunted House, let’s hit carnival row.”
“Any particular reason?” Hadleigh snuggled in closer still.
“Have you ever tried Whack-a-mole? It won’t be as exciting as beheading anybody, but you can sure as shit beat the hell out of a few electronic moles.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“And you know what else sounds like fun… you and me, tonight, I’ve been reading that a healthy sex life right up until the baby’s born is encouraged by most top healthcare professionals.”
Hadleigh sent Vaughn a heated look, fluttering her eyelashes, hoping that she didn’t look like she had grit in her eyes. “Sex? On a first date? Just what kind of girl do you take me for?”
Vaughn grinned, staring down at Hadleigh’s belly. “Damn, dating is hard. All the rules.”
“Just wait until you hear the second date rules. You up for a movie date tomorrow night?”
Vaughn leaned down, kissing his wife, and this was no gentle brief stolen moment, this was passionate and heated. Full of love and promise.
Hadleigh sank into the kiss. Huh, and Vaughn acted like it had been hard to woo a Warrior. Amateur.
Chapter Ten
“Miss Scarlet in the study with the dagger.” Of all the things Marcus thought he would find when he heaved himself out of the tunnel, it wasn’t Riya, standing over a dead body that was slumped across a desk with a large knife protruding from its back.
Two electronic lanterns were flickering, casting dim light over the sumptuously decorated room. It mirrored the one he’d just been in, down to the bar off to one side, floor to ceiling bookcases along one wall and a faux fireplace. Except this one was completely finished and decorated. Marcus recognised it instantly, he’d seen it in the promotional brochures for the Montague.
“Eep.” Riya jumped about a foot. Hand coming to rest over her racing heart. It had been eerie as hell to find herself alone in this room. A life-like dummy slumped over the desk. The knife. The silence. Nothing but jumping shadows cast by the two lanterns. “Where did you come from?” She glared at Marcus, a dark looming shape in his all black ensemble, kind of grateful despite her tone to have some company.
“Trap door in the closet.” Marcus pointed behind him.
“Oh, good, so we can get out that way? I’ve tried the door to the corridor and there’s no budging it.”
Marcus held up two long knives before bending to sheathe them. “The tunnel isn’t finished yet, I had to get inventive. How about the way you came in?”
Riya pointed at a gaping hole in the far wall. One of the faux wood panels was missing. Marcus went to take a closer look. The panelling was metal and upon investigation had been kicked clean out of the wall. He bent slightly, looking up the metal slide. Way too tight a fit for him to scale, crap.
“What happened?” Marcus frowned at the piece of buckled metal. “Did you get stuck?”
“The opposite. The damn thing was trying to chop me in two. Thankfully I had my boots on to slow my progress, and then it was just a question of timing my kicks and sheer determination.”
“Clever.” Marcus acknowledged. Riya hadn’t panicked. No one punched a Maat Warrior and left a bruise unless they had a touch of supernatural strength. It wasn’t all that surprising she’d been able to kick the chute door out of the wall. Seems there was more to the woman who made clothes of destiny than he had originally thought. “And who’s the stiff?”
Riya held up the piece of paper she’d been studying when Marcus had entered the room, surprising her. “Our waxwork friend is Babyface Travers, former mob enforcer. It seems he married the boss’s daughter two years ago and worked his way up the ladder to become the big man’s right hand.”
“It says all that?” Marcus sounded dubious.
“And more. These are the clues for how to solve the mystery and escape the room. It appears Babyface may or may not have been having an affair with his father-in-law’s mistress, a Miss Rita Star.”
Marcus strode over to the main door that would lead out to the seventh floor corridor. But there was no budging it. He gave it a tentative kick and didn’t even make a dent. Damn, given this place, it might not actually even be a door. “Tell me, you didn’t hear a… kid’s voice earlier, did you?”
Riya held up the doll she’d found in her initial search of the room. It had seemed out of place so she’d picked it up. Pulling on the string she held it out towards Marcus.
“Da-da…. Da-da.”
“I think she likes you.” Riya laughed.
Huh, Marcus stared at the blonde haired dolly dressed all in pink with big blue eyes. He’d distinctly heard the word Daddy, and in a tone that had been slightly deeper and not so electronic… or had he? This place was full of tricks and traps. Maybe he’d been the victim of one. “My comms are dead. And last I saw my team, they were one floor below us. Any thoughts on how we get out of here?”
Riya held up the sheet of paper. “How do you feel about playing detective?”
Marcus issued a sigh from between clenched teeth. “Do I have a choice?”
“That’s the spirit, Charming. Always looking at the glass like it’s half filled with poison.”
Marcus couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, so what do we do first?”
“It seems to me that Babyface was in Hard Mickey Crowley’s office looking for something. That’s his father-in-law and boss, by the way. I suggest we start looking to see if we can find whatever it is he was after.”
Fifteen minutes later they stood back at the desk, contemplating their big finds. Marcus’s personal favourite had been discovering the bottles of alcohol decorating the wall behind the bar were in fact real. Kudos to the set designer who’d decorated the rooms for the promotional brochure.
Sipping whiskey, he lifted the torn love letter they’d discovered hidden in a book of poetry. The bookcases were full of true crime and history books, so the slim volume of poetry had kind of stood out. The lower half of the letter was missing. But it was addressed to My Darling Rita, mentioning an intimate dinner for two on Valentine’s Day to celebrate Rita’s birthday and how the person who wrote the letter almost had enough money stashed away so the two of them could run away together.
Their second clue was a woman’s antique pearl earring that Riya had found down the back of the cushions of the love seat. And Marcus, while he’d been trying to work out if the faux fireplace had any secret passages, like the one on the sixth floor, had discovered a shiny mint gold coin.
“And what do all these things tell us?” Riya frowned down at the collection.
“They certainly aren’t giving us any clues on how to get out of here. I thought these were supposed to be escape rooms?”
Riya shook her head. “You’re thinking about the lower levels. This level has the executive suites with interlinking rooms and we’re supposed to solve the murder mystery.”
“But if the rooms are interlinking, why the hell do we seem to be stuck in this one?”
“Maybe they haven’t finished putting all the clues in yet. Or maybe a puzzle has to be solved before we can move into the next room and find more clues to pin point the murderer.”
“Hold on. What was Babyface here reading when he was knifed?” Marcus pried an open ledger out from under the arm of the mannequin. “This doesn’t look right?” His gaze travelled swiftly down the columns of numbers.
“So it’s useless?”
“No, I mea
n it’s meticulous and very detailed. But listen, all the entries reference car parts, which I’m guessing is the front for Hard Mickey’s criminal activities.”
“Oh, I see what you’re saying. All those old mob bosses like Capone were cooking the books.”
“Exactly.” Marcus found himself grinning, damn, he was kind of enjoying this. “So if this is the fake book, where is the real one?”
“Safe.” The said the word in unison, laughing.
Marcus drank down the last of his whiskey. “And the hunt continues.”
Riya found it behind an enormous painting depicting a dapper dressed bulldog of a man, who she could only presume was Hard Mickey. Standing beside him was a very unimpressed imposing grey haired lady in a dark dress with a pro-abstinence button prominently displayed on her collar. Hmmm, didn’t look to be a happy marriage.
The painting swung open with a rather eerie creak, to showcase a safe that was nearly as tall as Riya. “Yes. point to me, I found it.” Staring dubiously at the round dial that would unlock the safe. “Now we just need to figure out the combination.”
Marcus looked around the room for inspiration, his eyes alighting on the torn letter. “I think I know.” He stepped up and began dialling, a short time later there was a click and the safe door swung open to reveal a dark passageway.
“You did it, fantastic. What were the numbers?”
“Rita’s birthday.”
“Clever.”
“Thanks. Let’s see what the next room holds. I’ll go first.”
“Wait.” Riya switched off the lanterns. With Imps around, leaving them on was just an invitation for trouble.
“Hold on to my vest.” Marcus instructed as he directed his strobe light deeper into the dark passageway. “We don’t want to get separated.”
Riya hooked her fingers around the edge of Marcus’s Kevlar vest as instructed. Conscious suddenly that there was only a thin layer of material between her fingertips and Marcus’s heated flesh. It was distracting. Which was a good thing as the passageway was claustrophobic and too warm, smelling of fresh paint and cut wood.
The strobe light Marcus had clipped to his vest was bright, throwing long shadows that crawled up the walls and ceiling behind them. Riya couldn’t help but jump slightly when the safe door swung shut automatically behind her.
“You okay?” Marcus had halted.
“Fine.” She patted his back. “Don’t stop.”
They continued on, the passageway narrow and twisting. Finally, they came to a one-way mirror, on the other side they could see a black and white bathroom decorated with silver art deco touches.
“Be careful of the floor, it might be a trapdoor.” Riya warned. “When I went through the mirror on the eighth floor it was the same set up as this one. Next thing I knew I’m sliding down a tube.”
Marcus studied the floor carefully. “No seams, can’t be a trapdoor.” He stepped closer, assessing the room through the one-way glass. “There’s another dead body, in the bath…. this time it looks burnt.”
Riya gave him a slight nudge. “The sooner we get in there and find the clues, the sooner we can find our way out of this maze.”
“Right.” Marcus found the door latch and the mirror swung open. Stepping out on to the tiled floor he was immediately hit by the smell. Charred flesh, burnt hair. And something else, something he couldn’t immediately place. A large knife was in his hand in an instant. “This time the body’s real.”
Riya’s nose wrinkled as she stepped cautiously onto the tiled floor in Marcus’s wake. Behind her the mirror closed with a sharp snick. Damn, she should have kept that open in case they needed an escape route.
Glancing around the large cavernous art deco bathroom, and luxurious dressing room off to the right, Riya couldn’t spy any immediate threat and since Marcus’s body language had relaxed slightly she could tell he thought the same.
“Look for our exit point.” Marcus instructed. “I’ll check on the body. It’s not smoking, so for what it’s worth, it can’t be anyone we know.” Moving towards the large claw-foot tub, his strobe light sent up flickering refractions as the tiles and mirrors reflected a myriad of shifting patterns.
Riya flicked on her penlight, running it over the walls. The room had no obvious door, so she looked for seams or hidden passageways like the one behind the mirror they had just come through, which refused to budge when she attempted to re-open it. “So who’s in the tub?”
Marcus stared down at the blackened remains. It was a man, tall and very thin. The corpse’s mouth was wide open, teeth strangely white and bright. Almost as if he were smiling, or had been caught mid laugh when he’d been consumed by fire. “I don’t recognise him. And no one has reported any of the workers missing. You know, this is strange.”
Riya stepped up beside him, playing her penlight over the wall next to the large bathtub. “You mean how there are no scorch marks on the wall?”
“Or in the tub for that matter.” Marcus hadn’t holstered his knife yet, his instincts were still flaring. And a Warrior never ignored his instincts. “It’s like he just spontaneously caught fire and he, and only he, was consumed.”
“You know.” Riya took a big sniff. She’d smelt a lot of things burning over the years thanks to her brothers: bed sheets, carpets, car tires, the family cat. “Does that… does that smell like sulphur to you?” It really did look like the dead body was grinning at them. Suddenly the corpse’s eyes flickered to life with hellfire, blazing bright amber.
“Get back.” Marcus pushed Riya away. Hellfire meant Demon. He readied himself for the attack… except the corpse abruptly disintegrated into a large pile of blackened ash. What the… he didn’t have time to finish the thought as the charred ash flared a bright molten orange. And out of the remains, rising like a Phoenix, was a Fire Demon. Neat party trick.
The creature was just over six feet tall, skinny, its skin black but with pulsing orange molten tracery, like vein work over every surface. The Demon was bald, all the better to showcase the large black horn that sat dead centre on his forehead, the pointed tip glowing like the end of a poker shoved into a furnace for too long. The Demon’s eyes glowed hellfire bright. Its mouth pulled back in the same smile it had displayed when it had appeared to be nothing but a corpse.
The Demon raised his arms out slightly to the side and wings made of pure fire erupted from its back. The flames dancing high, the paint on the wall behind it instantly bubbling and blackening.
Shit, Marcus had a horrible feeling his knife wasn’t going to be of much use. Okay, maybe the element of surprise might give him an edge. He darted forward, gripped the edge of the bathtub, the surface hot but not yet boiling to the touch. Heaving upwards with all his might, he sent the tub crashing over on to its side. Slamming the Demon down to the tiled floor.
Marcus didn’t hesitate, he flipped the tub completely over, effectively capturing the Demon underneath. Leaping on top of it, he could only hope that for all its fiery abilities the Demon lacked strength. If it did, then he’d just managed to capture himself a Fire Demon. Daniel would be ecstatic, he loved getting up close and personal in order to study different species.
“Marcus.” Riya could feel the temperature in the room begin to spike dramatically.
“Just stay out of the way.” Marcus warned as the bathtub bucked slightly underneath him, instinctively Marcus thumped down hard with all of his weight, sending it crashing back down to the tiled floor.
“I can help.” Riya insisted.
Marcus winced, through the soles of his boots he could feel the bathtub growing hotter, fuck. “Look, the bloody Demon doesn’t even wear clothes. All you’ll do is get in the way. Trust me. I’ve got this.”
Riya clenched her teeth so she wouldn’t yell at the stubborn ass. He had this? The great big macho lunk-head had this? And all she was supposed to do was cower in the corner like some damsel in distress? And that crack about clothes?
Was that really called for at a time li
ke this?
The man just would not let the fact that she made clothes for a living go. Arrogant jerk. They were magical clothes. Destiny defining clothes, why could Marcus not get that through his thick head and show her a little respect?
Okay, she was mentally raving. Mainly because she was scared. A Fire Demon, someone was bound to get hurt, especially considering the close quarters. But she had to trust Marcus, he was a Maat Warrior after all. He knew what he was doing. Hmmm, or maybe not, Riya jumped back out of the way just in time as Marcus sailed through the air, the left leg of his trousers on fire.
Seriously, maybe it was time the stubborn Warrior started to trust her. Riya stepped up, ready to battle the Fire Demon. She’d been rough housing since she came out of the egg. One Fire Demon should be child’s play compared to when all eleven of her brothers decided to pile on.
Marcus hit the far wall with a solid thump, rolling to smother the flames racing up his leg. Crap, he hadn’t been expecting the Demon to crack the tub right down the middle and explode upwards or to grab him by the leg, setting his trousers on fire and throw him across the room. Marcus shook off the hit, noting his pants were still smoking but the fire was out, good.
Time for round two.
Shit, one problem, Riya was standing squarely in the middle of the room, facing off against the Demon. In his way. Damn, didn’t she realised that other than the ceiling and the walls, the two of them were the most flammable objects in the bloody bathroom? Bathroom? Bathrooms meant water, and okay, it made sense for the bathtub to be purely for show but surely the sinks were operational. Water versus fire? Excellent.
So he’d save Riya, stash her somewhere safe and then check out the water supply.
The Fire Demon let out a roar. It’s voice popping, crackling and sizzling as if living fire had been given voice. Smoke streamed from its mouth as it flashed those strangely white teeth in what seemed to be a pleased smile. “Wrong woman… but right man. Half a bounty better… than none.”
