When Eth pressed me for details, and tried to convince me to come back to the States, I explained that the memories certain to haunt me at Bayview were too much to endure. That I was likely to be tempted to find Evie again if I came home before I had enough time to get over her.
Parts of it were lies, which left me feeling guilty for betraying his confidence, but as Zarita had pointed out, I couldn’t exactly waltz into Oxford asking for information on phoenixes without raising too many suspicions. If Eth believed my lies, it was half of the battle.
I figured pretending I was interested in getting back to the hunt was the key to getting through the front door and having my brother believe that lie would only help my cause. Once inside . . . well I would have to work out my plan from there.
By the time we arrived in Zarita’s Marseilles apartment, I was itching for more information. Luckily for me, her building was just a stone’s throw away from the museum, so we were back out the door before I’d even had a chance to take more than a cursory glance around her apartment.
The entrance to La Vieille Charité held another surprise for me. Zarita had said it used to be an almshouse, ostensibly providing charity to the poor and destitute, but it was more than that. Based on certain symbols set into the stonework, I recognized it for what it actually used to be—a refuge for all things other.
In the past, there were sympathizers who’d offered a place for those creatures that had nowhere else to go. When I first learned about them, back before I ever met Evie, it had seemed like a sick joke to pack so many dangerous beasts into one location, and I’d thought it terrific that past generations of Rain had ruthlessly destroyed all such places.
Now though, I felt terrible that Evie hadn’t had something similar available to her during the years she was alone following her father’s death. Maybe if there had been she wouldn’t have needed to turn to the fae for assistance.
When I saw the collection Zarita had already amassed, I stared at it in awe. There were coins and jugs, papyrus and stone tablets, reliefs and random pottery. The vast array was something of a surprise considering how little there was about phoenixes and the sunbird in the lore books.
Zarita smiled when she saw my slack-jawed expression. “It’s quite a collection isn’t it?”
“There’s so much here.”
“Many of the pieces were donated long ago, when this was little more than an almshouse and nothing quite as fancy as a museum. Since then, the extent of the collection has been kept quiet. There are only a very select few people who have seen all of it.”
“Thank you for allowing me to be one of them,” I murmured as I wandered around the table. Being so close to items that all held a significant link to Evie seemed to give her memory a palpable presence in the room with us.
I was in awe of the history before me and wanted more than ever to find the missing pieces of the puzzle. Feeling closer to Evie than I had since she’d been in my arms the morning before the fire, I wasn’t sure that I could kid myself about the reason I was so desperate for information any longer.
Even though a small part of me wanted to break the spell, the real reason my heart had agreed to this journey was because for tiny, precious seconds at a time, it made me feel like she was with me again. It gave me a purpose beyond hunting her to the ends of the Earth to be with her—which she obviously didn’t want.
If I couldn’t be with her, finding out the truth about her existence was surely the next best thing.
While I walked around admiring the collection, Zarita explained to me what sort of items I would be looking for and clues that I could look for to try to identify other Phoenician artifacts.
“I wish I could come too, just to make sure nothing important is missed.”
“Even if you could, I don’t think you’d have the time to peruse each item in great detail. I think we’ll be relying on a small miracle to even get into the vault in the first place.”
She nodded. “It won’t be safe. Or entirely legal.”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m used to things not being safe. Or legal.”
“So, what’s your plan to get in?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I FOLLOW THE two guards deep into the bowels of the Pluvia Oxford Castle Hotel, a newly renovated tourist mecca that now encompassed what used to be the prison area of Oxford Castle. My meeting with Charles Harrison—ostensibly the owner and manager of the hotel, but actually leader of the Rain’s Oxford headquarters—had been set up relatively soon after I’d called Eth from Cyprus.
The guards led me from the lusciously carpeted foyer, with pristine wallpaper and ornate decorations, into the parts of the operation most guests would never see. I shuddered as we passed a room that was obviously their version of a treatment room.
Instead of the stainless steel tables and sickening yellow lights of our rooms, these cells were largely untouched from the castle’s previous incarnation as a medieval prison. My gaze traced the walls of the room, and I was horrified at the deep gouges carved into almost every inch of the stonework behind the iron shackles. My mind filled with memories of the howls of the werewolf tortured with liquid silver and of the cold-sweat inducing nightmarish scenes from my own retraining.
One of the guards flanking me caught sight of the direction of my gaze, and he flicked me a sickening grin that suggested he’d been involved in more than one assessment in the cells. I resisted the look of disgust that fought hard to surface before turning my gaze back to the path ahead of us.
When we reached a closed door, the other guard knocked twice before they both turned tail and headed off back in the direction we’d come without another word.
“Enter,” called a deep but quiet voice, polished with posh tones that echoed those of the news anchors on the limited British TV I’d seen since being in Europe. It was clear from the guards’ behavior and location of the office that the voice belonged to Charles Harrison and it wouldn’t be wise to keep him waiting.
Swallowing down my pride, because it would only get me into trouble beyond the threshold, I moved through the door.
Sitting behind the desk was a large man, not fat or even stocky but just physically larger than life—like a caricature brought to life and animated. When he looked up at me with a questioning brow, I took a moment to examine him. From my initial assessment, I figured that he had to be at least sixty, but could have been older still.
His general largeness, combined with the heavy set of his jowls and crooked nose, managed to only slightly temper the aristocratic air around him. While he waited for me to introduce myself, one of his oversized hands tracked a path through his thick hair, which seemed to cling desperately to the dredges of its former sandy brown color rather than completely submitting to gray. It was as if he’d been able to beat back some aspects of old age by sheer willpower.
I drew my hands behind my back and straightened my spine, pushing my chest out, before lifting my chin so that it was set in the proud manner he’d expect from an Elite. “Clay Jacobs, reporting for duty, sir.”
“Jacobs?” he murmured, as if he hadn’t been expecting me and didn’t recognize my name. He turned away and shuffled some of the paperwork on his desk. Without meeting my eyes again, he waved at a chair in front of me. “Take a seat and tell me why you’re here.”
I had hoped that by having Eth arrange everything for me, I could avoid the whole explanation side of things, but clearly I was wrong. Luckily, I had planned for this contingency and had considered what any reasonable Rain director might accept as a logical reason for my time away from the States—and my reluctance to return home.
“I lost my twin sister during a hunt, and I needed an escape from having to relive her death in familiar surroundings. I came to Europe to have an extended holiday, but after a few months here, I missed the good that I was able to do with the Rain. What I’m really after right now is to get back to the thrill of the chase.”
“Then why not simply return home?
Why ask to be assigned to one of our teams instead?” There was a look in his eyes that told me he knew of my checkered past of going AWOL from my family and at least a good portion of the reason I was on another continent.
“Being away from not only my family but also from the temptation that haunted me in America has helped to lessen the struggles I’ve faced in the past. Struggles with which I believe you are familiar, sir.”
He spared the briefest of glances back up at me before continuing to pretend to be engrossed by the paperwork on his desk, as if he were just so impossibly busy I shouldn’t even have expected him to bother to talk to me.
I gritted my teeth together at the rude self-importance of the man. It confirmed in my mind everything that Zarita had said. He was exactly the sort of person who would have a private vault somewhere with all sorts of rare antiquities hidden away from the world. I decided there was only one thing for it. It was a make or break moment, but I wasn’t going to be pushed around by the prick.
“Thank you for your time, sir.” I stood and walked away without another word or a backward glance. The action grabbed his attention instantly.
“Where do you think you're going?”
“There’s one thing that you need to understand about me, sir. I am damned good at what we do. Despite any issues I might have faced in the past, I am one of the best there is at hunting these creatures. This isn’t arrogance speaking, either. It is an easily verifiable fact. However, it is apparent that my very presence is a burden to you. One that I am more than willing to relieve you of if necessary.”
He blustered and looked as if he was going to say something, but I didn’t allow him the chance.
“If you choose not to have the decency to at least look at me when I’m speaking with you, then this isn’t the headquarters I thought it was, and I’m as disinterested in staying here as you are of having me. Why should we waste any more time on the matter?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could see him considering my impertinence. It was a calculated risk that would either win him over or piss him off completely. After a moment he chuckled, leaned back in his seat, and pressed his fingers into a steeple in front of his chin. “You certainly do have a big brass pair, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “I just call things as I see them, sir. And the way I see it is I’m here, ready and willing to help you and your team out in exchange for nothing more than a bite to eat and a roof over my head. It’s win-win.”
He leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the desk as he assessed me. After a brief pause, he nodded. “Very well. You may join Antoinette’s team. Head to this address and I’ll let her know to expect you.” He picked up a blank card and scribbled an address on the back.
“I won’t be staying here?” My jaw clenched. If I was staying somewhere else, my plans for some nighttime exploration to find the archives would be impossible.
He held the card out halfway to me with a cocked eyebrow. “You wanted the thrill of the chase. So go out and chase.”
I didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to my real mission by showing an unwillingness to do what I had just stated I wanted, so I stepped forward and grabbed the card. I’d have to figure something else out. “Yes, sir.”
FOLLOWING THE instructions of the guards who’d seen me out of the hotel, I walked in what I hoped was the direction of Antoinette’s team headquarters. After three stops to ensure I was heading in the right direction, I finally arrived at the address written on the card.
It was a place called The Flying Dove. The sign out front had a bastardized version of a symbol I knew well—a white dove with an olive branch in its mouth over the Rain crest—only this dove was monstrous. The drawing made it appear at least three times the size of a normal bird, with ridiculously muscled wings, a tattoo on its breast, and a beak that looked strong enough to slice through metal. The olive branch in its mouth was snapped in two. I was surprised that the Elite symbol—or at least this strange version of it—was displayed so prominently, but none of the passersbys looked twice at it.
After shoving the card into my pocket, I pushed through the antique-looking glass door that obscured the interior. The moment I was through the door, I felt at least thirteen pairs of eyes on me—one for every person in the space—as I made my way over to the bar.
Glancing around the room, I met each set of eyes that were watching me, letting them know I wasn’t intimidated by their unwelcoming stares. “I’m looking for Antoinette.”
One of the bulkier men in the bar stood and crossed his arms. “What do you want her for?”
Tugging the card from my pocket, I flicked it up between my fingers. “I was sent to meet her.”
“You’re the Yank?” A clipped and polished voice issued from a tiny firecracker of a woman—probably in her late twenties if I had to guess—with a halo of short bright-purple hair. She slid off one of the barstools and strode purposefully toward me. “Granddad didn’t tell me you were quite so cute.”
“Granddad?”
“Charles.” She rolled her hazel eyes and stuck out her hand.
Charles was her grandfather? I was astonished that someone who looked so relatively young could have a granddaughter who was older than me.
“Antoinette Harrison, at your service.”
“Clay Jacobs.”
“We know who you are, mate,” said a man wiping down the bar with a rag. Even from the limited words, I could tell his accent was different again, louder, and with more of a twang than Antoinette’s clipped tones, but I wasn’t sure exactly where he was from. “And we’ve been expecting the deserter.”
“Leave him alone, Johno.” Antoinette linked her arm through mine and dragged me toward a staircase on the left side of the room. “Don’t mind him,” she whispered to me. “He’s just a hopeful from the land down under. He’s a great bartender though, so we like to keep him happy.” She winked at me. “It’s great to have another Elite around,” she said as she led me up the stairs. “Someone who actually knows what they’re doing,” she called back loudly.
I was certain it was for the benefit of everyone in the bar and not me.
With my free hand, I scrubbed the back of my neck. “Well, I knew in the US, but there’s a range of different creatures here.”
She shrugged. “A monster is a monster, isn’t it? They all die the same way once you find their weakness.”
I hoped she missed the way I flinched and then swallowed hard as my concerned thoughts traveled to Evie.
For a moment her eyes narrowed, and then a sly look crossed her face as she grinned. Combined, it told me she hadn’t missed a thing. I hoped it wouldn’t cause any issues for me.
“Granddad warned me I should keep a close eye on you,” she said once we were well away from the others.
Had I made a terrible mistake in asking to be assigned to a team? It was easy for an “accident” to happen on a mission. Even a gunshot wound could be explained away as a rogue shot. Death by friendly-fire.
Her face split into a wide grin. “But I don’t work like that. Trust is a two-way street, and I don’t think I can ask for it without giving it in return. Fuck with me though, and you’ll regret it.”
Something told me that despite her size, she would easily be able to back up her words. I gulped down my concern and nodded. “I understand.”
BY THE time I left the bar, just a few hours later, I had met each of Antoinette’s—or Toni’s, as she kept insisting—eleven crew members. After the introductions, Toni gave me the keys to a small, studio apartment in the building next to The Flying Dove, reminding me once more that it was just “the Dove.”
The following day, after a night tossing and turning with guilt over what they might need me to do, I returned to join in on my first mission and learn a bit more about Toni’s team. Technically, their group consisted of four teams of three, but they all reported back to Toni, and in turn, she reported to Charles.
It was definitely more structured than the
life I was used to, but I knew her way was closer to the norm, even in the States. My family was unique in the way we traveled the country from case to case. Most teams were designated to a particular area with crossovers only occurring when troubles too difficult to deal with were encountered—which was usually at the point my family was called in anyway. We were almost unbeatable—our track record proved that.
Thinking about my family made my heart hurt for Lou and gave me a pang of homesickness stronger than any I’d allowed myself to feel. The time with Zarita, with her gentle probing and quiet questions, had allowed me to explore my emotions in a way that I’d never been able to before. It had given me the chance to deal with so much of my shit.
I hadn’t appreciated how much she’d helped until she was no longer there with her soft prompting to draw the negativity from me like poison from a wound.
“We’ve got a revenant, a black annis, a gremlin, and a poltergeist,” Toni’s voice pierced through my thoughts and drew me back to the present. She handed out notes to each of the teams who were draped over various items of furniture in the loft above the bar. “You all clear on what you need to do?”
Everyone nodded as they dispersed, grabbing various bags and equipment on the way out.
“Uh . . . no,” I said to Toni as everyone left. I hadn’t exactly been listening but didn’t think she’d given me any directions. “Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention,” I admitted, which earned a grin. “Where am I supposed to go?”
“You’re coming with me, pretty boy.”
“And we are going where exactly?”
“We’re going after a black annis. Three kids have gone missing from Dane Hills in the last few days.” She threw a bag at me that contained a number of the usual weapons but also had a handful of small, polished stones, each with what appeared to be a naturally formed hole through the middle.
Among the Debris (Son of Rain #2) Page 14
