"Yes," he said. "I do. Nothing but a vulnerable human. A toffee we sometimes call you." His disappointment was palpable.
I didn't like the way he said vulnerable since I was sitting in a room of his own making while he stood there in front of me, a place where things whispered above me, and the door only unlocked at his touch. Nevertheless, in for a penny.
"My inconvenient humanity is the reason I'm here, actually."
I gripped the arms of the chair, letting the mark peek out from beneath my cuff. It was a good reminder for me to stay on track.
"I need that tile back. Now."
He tapped a finger against his thigh. "But it doesn't belong to you."
That old argument. No doubt it would be smarter to bargain with the chips he'd already given me.
"You said you stole that tile to save me," I said.
He nodded. "I did." His expression didn't shift. A better poker face I'd never seen.
I sank deeper into the chair. I simply couldn't hold my back straight anymore. Exhaustion and stress was robbing me of my will to even be there let alone keep my eyes open. The fire was doing its best to melt me into a puddle.
"You didn't even know me when you stole it. Why do you care what happens to me?"
He sighed heavily and pulled up a chair. Twisted it around backwards and straddled it. His arms hung over the back. They were broad and big hands, with blunt fingers that looked like they could stop your heart with a single jab.
"A vulnerable and mortal human doesn't stand a chance against Kelliope," he said. "A little kitten of a human like you...let's just say it would be messy."
There was an odd huskiness to his voice that, in contrast to the way his features remained placid, made me run my fingers along the column of my throat. His gaze followed the trail they made and rested on my mouth, making me nervous.
"Liar," I said and leaned forward close enough that I could smell whiskey on him. Good whiskey. He was used to finer things. His suit and his library were evidence of it.
"Just because you don't believe it, doesn't mean I'm lying," he said, nonplussed.
"What do you think it's worth?" I asked. "A hundred thousand? A million?"
He laughed, showing a crooked tooth toward the back. Strangely, it made him seem less threatening and encouraged me to press on.
"I make my living reading people," I said. "You don't have to pretend you didn't steal it so you could sell the thing for a tidy profit. Like a hundred percent profit since it cost you nothing." There was a note of bitterness in my voice but he didn't react to it.
"Enlighten me," he said. "You who are such a study in human nature."
He stressed the word human as though it should be evident that I couldn't read him because human he was not. But I could. Supernatural or not, his actions in the courtyard proved it. He didn't want anyone out there to know he had the rune.
I squared my shoulders. "You saw a chance to take something and leave me to pay the consequences. And now that I'm here, I'm threatening your little farmer's market by letting them know you have it."
He guffawed at that, but I knew I'd hit a nerve with the taunt. He was too cool at the insult. Too calculated. Don't trust him, Fayed had said. Well, I didn't and wouldn't.
"Prove to me you had my welfare at heart," I said.
His eyebrow quirked. "I thought I'd already done that, kitten."
"Don't call me that." I said and he canted his head sideways as though confused.
"But you like it," he said. "It's all over your body language." He waved his hand over the air in front of me. "The way you squirm when I look at you, the way you flush when I use an endearment—"
"That's rage," I said.
"The way you lean toward me to get closer." He hitched his chair a few inches toward mine. I bit down on my lip as I steeled myself not to move. Any show of motion would only encourage the presumption that he was right and he wasn't dammit. I did not do dangerous men anymore.
He chuckled as though he'd expected my stubbornness.
"You modern women," he said. "You want to let go the stereotype but it's hardwired into your biology.
"Misogynist thinking," I said. "And archaic."
"Ah, The old feminist argument." He put up his hands in surrender. "It's sexist of me to say you enjoy it. I must not presume. My apologies for being a...what do you humans call it? a sexist pig?"
"Maybe an old bitty from the sixties might," I said. "My generation would just call you a prick."
He sighed heavily. "Every generation, a new thing. It tires me out, honestly."
"You're changing the subject," I said. "I didn't come here to discuss your sexism, your misogyny, or your bigotry. My rune," I said. "I want it."
His only response was to cross one arm over the other on the back of the chair. The way he watched me made me uncomfortable. His gaze never wavered from mine, but he leaned forward, lifting the legs behind him into the air about half an inch. I expected him to topple forward, but his feet were well planted. One movement. That would be all it took for him to flash across the space to grab me by the throat.
It was such a visceral thought, accompanied so clearly with an image that my hand went to my throat protectively.
I couldn't keep his gaze. I had the horrible thought that he had planted that image in my mind and it took me a moment to recover. The man who would do that, use the suggestion of violence to get what he wanted, only understood violence. I remembered Fayed's warning. Don't trust him. He's dangerous.
His smile this time was long and lazy, and I knew he had done exactly that and now realized I knew it too. Whatever he was, it included telepathy of some sort.
"So," he said. "You wanted me to prove my chivalry to you but you didn't say how I could do that."
He laid his chin on his forearms and stared at me expectantly.
"It's simple. Your chivalry made things worse for me." I laced the word chivalry with icy disdain. "You can fix that by giving me the rune."
"And how did I do that?"
I summarized the night from the bar, the way I'd been threatened and then ended up trying to help the fallen man who disappeared, ending with the way he'd hung me by my jaw in plain sight on a busy street. "And no one noticed," I finished with. "It was as though we weren't even there."
"You probably weren't," he said in a musing tone. "At least not all the way there."
"He told me he was a sorcerer."
He eased his chair back.
"A sorcerer?" He thumbed his bottom lip. "There aren't many of those roiling about the dimensions, and the ones that still exist are tied together so tight into their guild, they rarely step out of it. I doubt you encountered one let alone stole something from him. They aren't so careless with precious things."
He sounded thoughtful. "You'll have to try again, little thief."
I twisted my wrist so that he could see the evidence hennaed into my skin.
"He put this on me, said he was some kind of tracker."
His sharp intake of breath was not the reaction I expected.
"Lovely isn't it?" I said, testing.
He pushed up from the chair and twirled it around before settling it against the fireplace.
"You certainly do have a special talent," he said curtly.
All pretense of trying to charm me was gone.
He pulled down the cuffs of his shirt. "Very special. But not for the things you think."
He strode several steps before stopping mid tread and swinging back around. I thought he wanted to say something and waited for him to speak. But he turned heel again and headed to a small tabletop box beside a row of leather bound books. A decanter appeared when he lifted the lid. He poured a shot and upended it. Poured another.
"Want one?" he said, holding it up toward me.
I stole a look at my timer. Five hours left? Sweet Jesus, was the time accelerating?
"I don't have time for a drink. I need that rune."
"Before you decide that's what yo
u need, maybe you should know more about who you're dealing with."
CHAPTER 27
IN MY EXPERIENCE, KNOWING led to compassion or empathy or fear and other nasty things that got in the way of a successful transaction. Best to treat everything as objects to be traded. Even people. Easier that way.
"I don't need to know," I told him.
"No?" he said. "Maybe I just want to tell you." He flashed a grin and tilted the glass toward me in salute before he downed it.
"There's only one sorcerer who has flesh magic," he said and began meandering throughout the space, now and then touching an object, laying his hand along a spine of a book.
"Each has their own specialty in addition to some pretty nasty energy wielding. If you've got in the way of Finn as well as Kelly...Well, let's just say it takes a special kind of stupid."
He looked directly at me when he said this, the insulting bastard. But if he thought to bully me into letting him keep that rune he had no idea what this little kitten had already been through. A few words weren't likely to change my mind.
"I don't do things in half measures," I said with a thin smile. "Even stupid."
By this time, he'd found his way back to the fireplace and was leaning against the face, one shoulder pressed into the bricks, one foot crossed over the other. He might have been at a cocktail party setting himself up to tell a humdinger of a tale, and I guess he was.
"There are plenty of factions in this world," he said. "I won't lie to you. Not all of them are pleasant."
"I don't care about the factions," I said. "I don't care about the things that are in this world. I just want to get out of here safely and get back to my own world where I know the demons I face. If that means I need to deliver some ridiculous supernatural artifact to someone I've never met before, never care to meet again, then so be it. What happens in your world is nothing to me."
I gave a long thought to the children outside. No doubt they wanted the same. No doubt they were blissfully unaware of this realm the same as I was until they found themselves in it, and would have done anything to avoid it if they could.
I let that pass. I had no bargaining chips for that. Only for the issue at hand.
"Do you still have it," I asked. "The rune. Or did you sell it so you could buy a couple more books?"
He might say he stole it from me to save me, but we both knew better. I met his eyes. The fire crackled impatiently. I watched as he reached over to throw a log on top. Strangely enough, I didn't feel its warmth any more.
"I have it," he said.
I very nearly gave myself away with a sigh. I chewed the inside of my cheek as I regarded him. If I pressed the tracking mark right now, would Finn the sorcerer be able to get past whatever lock Maddox had applied to the door? It might be the fastest way to expedite this entire bit of nastiness.
"I want it back," I said. "If I don't give Finn that tile, he's going to kill everyone I know."
"Let me guess," he said. "Then he'll kill you."
He didn't sound impressed by the threat.
"I take death threats very seriously," I said.
"As well you should."
He crossed the room to the bookcase. Ran his fingers down along a few of the spines. I waited, breath held. My fingers trailed down toward the tracking mark.
I hesitated though. I needed to see it. Make sure he really did have it. Time was running down faster than I could sense. I couldn't risk making a mistake. One glimpse and I'd yank in that bastard Finn and I'd turn my back on this whole world and try to forget any of this ever happened.
When Maddox turned back around he held what looked like a velvet jewelry box like the one rings came in. Both of his index fingers tapped the side of it thoughtfully. My eyes were glued to the hinges. I tried to will him to open it.
"I own this place, like I said," he said. "This whole bazaar. It's mine. I conceived it. I built it. They came."
I waited, wondering what any of that had to do with the tile or with me.
"Humans come here sometimes, but it's rarely of their own volition. Evelina was right about that. The ones that do come are here for rather dastardly reasons."
Was he accusing me of something?
I thought of Scottie's henchmen. And Finn. And Kelly. Caught between a rock, and a hard place, and a sharp pointy stick. I looked up at him because it finally dawned on me what it was he wanted.
"I don't plan to come back."
He nodded. "Good decision."
He held out his hand between us, the box lying in his palm. In my own it wouldn't look quite so small, but in his, it seemed tiny. In another lifetime I might have wanted to feel those hands on my skin.
The way he laughed at me when I tried to grab for it ruined that.
"You think I'm just going to pass it over?" he said. "When you have no idea what it is? What Kelly is? Finn is nothing to Kelliope. You saw her. You saw him and what she'd done to him."
"You're scared," I said.
"Me? I'm afraid of very little, but a healthy respect for the most notorious fae the rogue lords have is a smart thing. Kelly is an anomaly among even her own kind. She has an affinity for several elements instead of just one. Light for example. She can harness it like a laser to either harm or heal."
"Let me guess," I said. "She chooses to harm."
"Not a choice," he said with a sigh. "She is bound to her overlords. They send her to do their bidding. And she obeys."
He closed his fist around the box.
"You can have it, but it won't be safe."
"And yet it would be safe for you?" I sucked the back of my teeth. "You are an old misogynist, aren't you?"
He didn't take the bait.
"We walk among you without being noticed," he said. "The ones who can wear human faces either by magic or glamour or physiology. But there are others. So many others."
I balked at the thought. I'd seen enough unpleasant things outside in the bazaar to keep me peering under my bed at night for the next twenty years. That didn't preclude my need to have the tile now.
"If you're trying to scare me, you're not as effective as Finn," I said, pulling my T-shirt collar back up over my shoulder.
He watched the movement keenly and I had such a vivid image of him peeling away that shreds of shirt and touching my shoulder that I flushed hot and I put my hand out again as a distraction. For who, I wasn't sure.
His gaze flicked to my face and I thought I saw humor in its depths. Had he done that on purpose? Made me imagine his touch? I scowled up at him.
"Again," I said, mostly to goad him. "Not as effective as Finn."
"Maybe you prefer Kelliope," he said with a grin.
I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. This was most frustrating.
"Just give me the damn tile."
He smirked. "What do you think would happen if every supernatural creature from every world could cross the threshold between them at any time they wanted?"
Worlds? Had he said worlds, plural? I lifted my chin. Focus, Sis, I told myself. Focus.
I was used to playing odds. Dealing with Scottie had made me appreciate the law of averages in a keen way. The chances of finding someone's super secret password when they have to change it frequently. The chance of stumbling upon the one thing they love enough to do anything for you. The odds of someone spilling every dirty little secret he ever knew if you exacted just the right amount of pain in just the right spot.
"Not my problem," I told him.
He put the hand holding the box into his pocket and I followed the path with my eye.
"Most folk don't believe the runes exist," he said. "But those who do, think they are part of a mosaic crafted by Odin."
"Odin," I echoed, anxious for him to pass over the box. He held it tight in his trouser pocket. I could see the ball of fist it made.
"Odin was a god—"
"I know who he's supposed to be," I snapped.
"Was," he said, correcting my verb tense. "Odin was one of the on
ly gods who could travel all nine worlds at a whim, sometimes all of them at once. Legend has it when he died, his bones shattered into a thousand pieces and reassembled into a map of the nine worlds that hung itself on the wall of the Enochi Hall of records. No one could read it. The codex was in a language unknown to even the angels. Runic types of markings. It got destroyed somehow. Some say Odin's greater spirit saw the terrible power of the mosaic and destroyed it, scattering the runes throughout the worlds. Some think the runes themselves were so powerful, they couldn't hold together without shattering.
"Even in the underworld, we have our fables and legends."
I shrugged. "Then it's only a problem if everything you say is accurate. So far you only have legends and conjecture. Nothing solid. I can't base my decisions on theory. And I can't base my life on your guesses."
I held my hand out and waited until he deposited the box onto my palm.
His fingers brushed against mine as he withdrew his hand and his eyes never left my face.
"Tell me, Kitten," he said with a sad smile. "What if this is the last piece? What if it's the only thing keeping evil at bay?"
Unbidden, my thoughts went to those terrified children chained to the witch's booth, knowing they would end up in some blood den or worse. I thought of the vampires, both of them, their lust for my blood evident on faces and in their actions. I thought of the woman barely holding back the werewolf on a leash. The eyeballs I'd seen in the bowl.
And all of that was just at the front of the bazaar. The surface things. The more palatable items. Everyone knew the seedier things were at the back of the shop; that the vanilla items were in the windows for the common, conservative customer.
There were dozens of alleyways in the deeper pockets of the bazaar. Places I hadn't inspected or strolled through. What things did those shadows hold that I hadn't seen?
If this man, who could make those creatures fall to heel, was afraid of what might happen should the tile be delivered then what things were yet to see or suffer?
"You're trying to trick me," I said. "You've been caught and you want to keep it and you're trying to scare me."
I wanted to see the truth of it in his face. I peered up at him, inspecting his features the way he had mine in the pawn shop. I wanted to see just how accurately I'd hit the mark.
Rune Thief: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Isabella Hush Series Book 1) Page 16
