A harried-looking guard hurried into the ballroom. His eyes swept the room, looking for someone. I swore in Korean and ducked behind a pillar, then poked my head out to see what he would do. He strode purposefully across the ballroom to another guard. I was too far away to hear what they said—not that I’d be able to understand it anyway—but I’d bet anything he was telling the other guard about the American party crasher and maybe to look for me.
I didn’t plan to stick around long enough to find out.
A server walked by with a tray of champagne flutes. I snagged one, trying to blend in with the crowd. Three smaller anterooms branched off the main ballroom. I stretched my magic toward the closest room, but it was too far. The farther my magic was from me, the more difficult it was to feel. I needed to get closer.
One eye on the guards, I moved through the room as inconspicuously as I could and slipped into the first anteroom. The room held half a dozen artifacts and even fewer people. One wall was draped in a black velvet curtain. I stepped next to the curtain, in case the guards decided to search the anterooms and I needed to hide, and sent my magic out.
The artifact wasn’t here. Curse it.
I’d taken one step toward the doorway when a hand shot out from the black velvet folds and dragged me behind the curtain. Before I could scream or invoke a rune, a hand covered my mouth. My attacker spun us around and pinned me to the wall, his forearm pressing into my throat. I looked up into eyes that burned with anger. Familiar eyes.
“Alec?” I choked out.
19
Alec blinked, as though surprised I knew his name, and then his eyes bored into mine, hard as ice. “What did you do with Ainsley Winters? I swear to God, if you hurt her …”
“Alec, it’s me.” His forearm pressed deeper, nearly cutting off my air supply. “It’s. Ainsley.”
“No, you’re not.” He jerked his head toward my hand. No, to the leather at my wrist. “But that is her bracelet. Trust me when I say you do not want to screw with me. Now where. Is. She.”
It was hard to breathe. If I didn’t do something soon, I was going to pass out.
“Dove,” I rasped.
His eyes widened and his arm eased fractionally. “What did you say?”
“Sometimes you … call me … dove.”
He didn’t back off, but his arm shifted to my collarbone, allowing me to breathe. “When Ainsley was twelve, she followed me on a date. Where did I go?”
“Which date? Jenna, the purple-eyed cheerleader, or Rachel, that chick who spent your whole date bragging about her modeling career?”
He grinned and stepped back. “You little stalker.”
I glared at him and rubbed my sore throat. “I was twelve.”
“You found me in North Korea,” he pointed out.
“You found me! And how did you know I followed you on dates, anyway?”
“You weren’t exactly James Bond.”
True. James Bond didn’t use tracking runes on his brother’s best friend’s car. That didn’t seem important to the conversation, so I scowled instead. “Those were purple-tinted contacts, you know. And that Rachel chick modeled for Walmart.”
His grin widened. “I remember. The lingerie ads.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Ainsley?” said a tinny voice in my ear. “What’s going on? Ainsley!” Something in Dahlia’s voice told me it wasn’t the first time she’d yelled my name. In my defense, I’d been a little distracted.
Before I could answer, Alec plucked the bud from my ear and stuffed it in his pocket.
“Hey! Wait, how did you even know that was there?”
He shrugged. “My hearing is better than most people’s.”
Right. Werewolf.
“I assume you’re here to steal the artifact before Merrick does?” he said.
“Yes. Why are you here?”
“To make sure Merrick doesn’t steal the artifact.”
I brightened. “So you’ll help me steal it?”
“No.”
“But you said—”
“I said I don’t want Merrick to have it. That doesn’t mean I want the United States government to have it either. As long as the Koreans don’t know what it does, it’s safe here.” A line furrowed between his brows. “The company wouldn’t send you here alone. Where’s Ryerson?”
The reminder twisted my stomach. “Arrested, I think.”
Alec swore. “That explains the commotion at the front entrance.” He thought for a minute. “Okay, new plan. You steal the artifact. I’ll save Ryerson.” His expression turned thoughtful. “That seems to take up a lot of my time these days.”
I was confused. “But I thought you don’t want the CIA to have it.”
“I don’t. But I don’t have time to stop Merrick and save Ryerson. And once he’s moved off site—and he will be—the odds of a successful rescue … well, they’re not great, especially without backup.”
“I didn’t actually see him get arrested,” I said. “Maybe he got away.”
I didn’t realize how much I’d been hoping that were true until Alec shook his head and my stomach dropped. “If he escaped, they would have shut down the party. Detained everyone. Found you. The mission would fail. Ryerson wouldn’t risk that. He would have made sure he was caught. We have a little time but not much. They’ll question him here, and when he doesn’t tell them what he’s here for, they’ll move him off-site and torture him for the information.”
Fear gripped my spine. I felt sick. “And if they torture him, he’ll tell them about the artifact and what it can do?”
Alec shrugged. “It’s torture. Everybody talks.” He dug the earbud out of his pocket and tucked it in his ear. “This is Alec Marcusi. I need you to pull up schematics for the Pyongyang Palace.” A pause, and then, “Ainsley’s fine.” Another pause, and then he rolled his eyes and glanced at me, looking irritated. “Why does everyone assume I’m going to kill you?” He yanked the bud from his ear and handed it to me. “Please tell her I haven’t murdered you.”
I took the bud. “I’m fine, Dahlia. But Ryerson was arrested. Alec is going to help us.”
“Alexander Marcusi is feeling helpful,” she said flatly.
Um. “Yes.”
“The same Alexander Marcusi who killed his entire team before going rogue and joining up with an international terrorist?”
My gaze snapped to Alec’s. He had gone very still, but his expression was a kaleidoscope of emotion. Even in the relative darkness of our hiding spot, I caught two of them before he schooled his features into a neutral expression. Anger. And guilt.
“I didn’t do those things, Ainsley,” he said quietly.
I drew in a deep breath. So this was the big secret no one had wanted to tell me. One of them, anyway. The CIA believed Alec had killed his team and switched sides. No wonder Ryerson kept trying to kill him. But Alec said he didn’t do it. Did I believe him? The Alec I knew would never do something like that. But that was a long time ago. People change. What did I really know about him anymore? And more importantly, did it matter if I believed him?
From Alec’s tight expression, it did matter. It mattered a lot.
But it wouldn’t change anything. Not right now, anyway. We needed him to save Ryerson. Simple as that.
“Ainsley?” Dahlia said.
“We need him.”
Dahlia swore. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Maybe. But I can’t steal the artifact and save Ryerson. I probably can’t even do one of them. And if the CIA refuses Alec’s help and makes me choose, then I’m going after Ryerson.”
Now that I knew he hadn’t escaped, there was no other choice. I couldn’t just leave him.
Besides, as everyone was so fond of reminding me, I wasn’t an agent. What could the CIA do, fire me from a job I didn’t even have? Great. Best plan I’d heard all week. As long as I lived long enough to give them the satisfaction.
Dahlia was quiet a long moment. Finally, she sighed. “F
ine. But if I get fired for this, I’m coming after your ass.”
Relief swept through me. “Deal.” I looked at Alec. “There are two anterooms left to search. After that …”
Alec shook his head. “The artifact isn’t in an anteroom.”
“What? Where is it then?”
“In the premier’s private office. He held back a few items to display there, for guests he really wants to impress.”
“How do you know that?”
“Merrick wanted me to steal it for him, so he told me. That was before I quit, obviously. And it’s a necklace, by the way.”
“Our intel says—” Dahlia began, but Alec cut her off.
“I know what your intel says. I gave it to you.”
“You … what?” Dahlia stuttered. “Why?”
I knew why. He’d already told us. “Because he wanted us to be here to intercept Merrick and keep him from stealing the artifact, but he didn’t want us to actually find it.”
Alec nodded.
“Okay,” I said, “so how do I get inside this private office?”
“With the key.”
I blinked at him. “You have the key? How did you—”
“Spy, remember?”
“Ex-spy,” Dahlia corrected in my ear, and Alec shrugged. Then his brow furrowed and his gaze shifted to my ear. He reached out and pretended to pull something from the hair behind my ear. He dropped a key into my hand and grinned, pleased with himself.
“The quarter trick? Really?”
“What? You used to eat that up.”
“Yes. When I was five.”
“That’ll get you inside. The office is the seventh door on the east side of the hallway on the northwest corner of the ballroom.”
I blinked at him.
“Take the hallway next to the bar. Seventh door on the left.” Then he tucked the earbud into his ear. My earbud. My eyes narrowed. Quarter trick, my sweet behind.
He winked at me and said, “Dahlia, love, I need you to find the most likely place for the guards to have taken Ryerson and walk me through how to get there.”
While Dahlia and Alec talked schematics, I peeked through a narrow gap in the curtains. The anteroom remained mostly empty, but the two guards from the ballroom had been joined by three more, and all of them stood just outside the anteroom, talking in low, urgent tones. The guests nearest to them had started to notice something was up and gave them a wide berth. One of the guards glanced toward the anteroom and I yanked my head back so fast I stumbled into Alec. He steadied me with a hand to my hip. My skin heated through the silky fabric.
“Careful, dove,” he said softly. I nodded and stepped away. I needed a clear head for what we were about to do, and being this close to Alec, especially after the bomb Dahlia had just dropped, played havoc with my head. To Dahlia, he said, “I got it. I’m giving you back to Ainsley now.”
He tried to hand me the earbud, but I shook my head. “She gave you directions to the most likely place the guards are holding Ryerson, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what if they’re holding him somewhere else? You told me where the necklace is. You need Dahlia more than I do.”
“Ainsley—”
“You know I’m right.”
His jaw clenched. “If you get into trouble, you’ll have no one to help you.”
I snapped my fingers and a tiny flame danced to life in the air between us. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.”
And that’s all they were. Tricks. But I was betting he didn’t know that. When this was all over, I really needed to learn some better runes.
Alec’s gaze held mine, flickering in the soft glow of firelight. Finally, he nodded. “There’s a river a hundred yards northwest of the palace. Meet me there.” I raised an eyebrow, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Turn left at the front door and walk about a football field,” he clarified. “Stop when you hit the boardwalk next to the river. I’ll meet you there.”
I extinguished the flame and saluted him. His grin widened and he shook his head.
I turned and reached for the curtain, but his arm snaked around my waist and I sucked in a breath. He whispered in my ear, too low for Dahlia to overhear, “If you get caught, I’ll come for you. But if it’s you or the necklace, save you.”
And then he was gone.
20
It was beyond me how a blond-haired, blue-eyed American could sneak undetected through a North Korean palace crawling with guardsmen, but Alec was full of surprises.
Besides, I had other things to worry about. Like sneaking past a contingent of guards who were bound to be looking for me soon—if they weren’t already—and into the premier’s private office to steal a priceless magical necklace before an international terrorist could steal it first.
If I were home right now, Jinx and I would be binging on Netflix and a family-sized bag of Cheetos.
Now wasn’t the time to get all wistful, so I shoved the thought away and got to work.
There were no pockets in this dress, so I palmed the key and slipped past the curtain. The guards had moved on and spread through the room, looking for something. Probably me. The orchestra had shifted to what was apparently a more dance-appropriate song and couples crowded the dance floor. I walked as quickly as I dared toward the bar and the hallway just beyond it. I passed the second anteroom and slowed.
What if Alec lied?
What if he was trying to distract me to give Merrick time to steal the necklace? Or sending me straight into a trap? What if the artifact wasn’t a necklace at all? Did I trust him, especially after what Dahlia had accused him of?
Yes, I decided firmly. I did trust him, even if no one else did. Because Alec was family, and that’s what family does. To prove that to myself, I strode past the second anteroom and headed straight for the bar.
And felt magic.
The signature was faint, but familiar, and smelled of vanilla. I’d felt it before. In the café. I spun around, sending my magic into the crowd, searching for Merrick. My magic found a woman at the bar instead. A witch. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then a thought hit me.
Why would I recognize her signature from the café?
It was possible she was there in the hours before it exploded, but unlikely. That was half a world away, and besides, if she hadn’t used magic at the café, then there was very little chance her magical signature would linger there weeks later.
I studied the woman. She was tall, with thick dark hair and a dress that clung to her curves. She laughed at something the Korean man standing next to her said, and I caught a glimpse of her profile. She looked … American.
“Sloane?” I said.
But the woman was already moving away. I started after her and bumped into a Korean man who stepped into my path.
“Sorry,” I said in what sounded like Korean. I had to hand it to Andersen. This language spell was a neat trick.
I tried to see around him, but the woman had slipped into the crowd. I’d lost her. The man steadied his cocktail and then glanced up. His eyes lit with recognition. Uh-oh.
He said something in rapid-fire Korean and then waited for my reply with a pleasant smile and an eye flick toward my boobs.
Um.
I leaned to look around him. The bar—and the hallway beyond it—was so close. And so was a guard, heading this way. Curse it, they were everywhere.
“Want to dance?” I asked the man in Korean. He looked surprised. I didn’t wait for a reply before I pulled him onto the dance floor. With nowhere else to put the key, I dropped it down the neck of my dress. The girls had to be good for something, right?
No sooner had I dropped the key into my ample cleavage than the man spun me around until my chest was pressed flat against his. He waggled his eyebrows and his free hand moved to my low back. My low, low back.
I narrowed my eyes and started to remind him that I, er, Mrs. Chun Yong, was very married when the guard stopped at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze sw
eeping the crowd. I ducked behind Mr. Gropey. This was easy because he was a head taller than me. Sometimes being short didn’t completely suck.
My dance partner’s hand slid down to my butt. I glared at him and moved it back up. Two seconds later, it was right back where it shouldn’t be. I considered kneeing him in the balls and decided, regretfully, that wasn’t the best way to keep a low profile.
By the time the song finally ended, the guard had moved on and I’d managed to steer us toward the bar with a minimum of grope-age. I thanked Mr. Gropey for the dance with a stiletto to his instep and escaped the dance floor with the rest of the crowd heading toward the bar. As everyone else joined the line, I slipped around them and, with a quick glance to make sure the coast was clear, stepped over a low velvet rope cordoning the hallway off from the rest of the party. I hurried to the seventh door on the left and fished around in my bra for the key.
Only there was no key.
I’d dropped it. Probably with all that wiggling on the dance floor. Stupid dress. Stupid useless boobs.
I grumbled some choice words about Mr. Gropey under my breath and examined the lock. A keyhole above an ornately carved door handle. If this were the movies, I’d whip a hairpin from my intricate updo and have this door open lickety-split.
I stared at the door some more, tapping my chin and cursing myself for never bothering to learn an unlocking rune.
Once, when I was seven, Josh had told on me for staying up late to watch The Craft, an old movie about teenage witches who turn evil. Scared the hex out of me and, thanks to Josh, got me grounded for a week. Bored, I taught myself a breaking rune and tested it on Josh’s Xbox. That got me another two weeks.
From down the hall came the sound of static-filled walkie-talkies spitting Korean. Guards, headed this way. If they caught me loitering outside the premier’s office, I was screwed.
I traced a rune into the glossy, lacquered wood where I guessed the locking mechanism should be. I whispered the invocation and added a quick pulse of magic. If I’d miscalculated where the locking mechanism was located or how much magic to put behind the rune, I could break the whole door. I’m sure that wouldn’t draw attention.
License to Spell_An Urban Fantasy Novel Page 13
