Rain Dance (Sunshine & Scythes Book 1)

by D. N. Erikson

  Luckily, the dwarf giant was a tough bastard, and had managed to get away.

  Dante handed me Khan’s carrier. “If you’re thinking about—”

  “You said Roan sold me out.” I stared at him. “How?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, I’ve got until Friday, so whenever you’re ready.”

  Dante shrugged and stretched his bronze arms. “He got an offer for a couple million. Give up your location, your emergency meetup spot.”

  “How nice.” I rubbed my sneaker into the dirt. “He say why the guy was offering that?”

  “Something about special skills. Rare. Had to have you on his team. Roan thought it was a recruiting thing.”

  “Or kidnapping.”

  “Probably that,” Dante said, nodding his head. “He didn’t think they’d—well, you know.”

  “Kill me?”

  “That.”

  “What’s your deal, anyway?” I asked, the carrier pulling down on my arm.

  “That is a long story, Eden Hunter.” Dante gave a grin tinged with darkness of things from the past. “One, perhaps, you will be lucky enough to hear in time.”

  “Give me the Spark Notes.”

  “I’m a treasure hunter with a nomad’s soul.” It didn’t sound romantic or charming. He sounded wistful and sad.

  I turned up the road without answer. The car rumbled away. I only got halfway to the beach before my arm was killing me. At that point, I set the carrier down and unlatched the gate. The black cat inside poked his head out, like he was seeing the world for the first time.

  “What the hell are you doing, human?” His nose twitched. Khan had a white stripe that ran from the tip of his nose to his tail that made him resemble a skunk. Which was also reflective of his less than pleasant personality. “Do you expect me to walk on this?”

  With great trepidation and his head held high with indignation, the cat ventured into the world and glared at me with his ice blue eyes.

  I kicked the carrier into the dense underbrush and he arched his back.

  “What if I preferred you to carry me, human?”

  “It’s Eden,” I said. “And I could give a shit.”

  I began walking, hitting the black sand. Khan yelled as loud as his little cat vocal cords allowed, “How far is your domicile?”

  “About a mile.”

  “This is unacceptable.”

  “Better start walking,” I said, looking at the breaking waves and sun burning in the placid sky. “It’s about to get a whole lot hotter.”

  I slept until Wednesday morning, but awoke refreshed and no worse for wear from my various scrapes and bruises. Relatively speaking, at least. If I breathed deeply, there was a dull ache in my ribs from the accident. But, otherwise, my shoulder, palm and head all seemed in good shape.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have much luck tracking down leads. I did manage to rustle up a few souls through my contacts—and by running a little trickery on my still-unknown Reaper rival. Stealing from the competition was enough to meet quota, plus another one for good luck, or a rainy day. But Friday rolled around without much in the way of concrete progress.

  I was high in circumstantial evidence, high in suspects, but low in verifiable proof. That was a big problem, seeing as how I had multiple deadlines breathing down my neck.

  Khan woke me on Friday with a snarl. It’d been a long night and a short sleep, and my body protested the unceremonious awakening.

  “Go away,” I said.

  “The dumb human is outside.”

  “That’s not really helpful.” Khan ranted about human stupidity all the time, from what I could gather from our last three days together. That, and the national debt, people trying to bring back communism, and the silliness of reality television.

  “The moron you call Dante, who did not realize I was alive in the cellar.”

  “Maybe he just didn’t care.”

  “Then I will call animal services on him.” The cat’s amber eyes narrowed into fierce slits, the white fur on his face bunching up.

  “Yeah, be sure to preface the call with the fact you’re a cat.” I swung my feet onto the hardwood bamboo floor, which was already taking a beating from Khan’s dagger-like claws. “They’ll definitely take you more seriously after that.”

  Khan hissed, and then pranced away with his tail high in the air, lamenting his fate of having such a dunce for a master. The feeling was mutual. I headed to the door, which I’d gotten fixed over the past couple days, in my underwear and let Dante inside.

  “Hey,” he said, giving me a funny look.

  “Oh, like you haven’t seen it before.”

  “Not looking that good.”

  “Yeah, yeah, spare me the pick-up artist crap and tell me why you’re here.”

  “There’s something you should see.”

  “I’m busy.” I went to close the door, but he stuck his boot in the jamb.

  “You’ll want to see this.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I said. The last few days had been frustrating and devoid of good news. Delivering my weekly quota of souls only to be run through by Moreland’s blade wasn’t exactly a happy ending.

  Dante reached into his pocket and waved a piece of folded parchment. “This is good.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You don’t care about my past.” He leaned up against the jamb and smiled, giving me a sly wink. “Come on, Eden.”

  “I’ve got other shit to deal with.”

  “What if I told you it might help with the case?”

  Well, this was what things had come to. Fresh out of leads and following Dante’s glib lead. Just great.

  I said, “I need to get ready.”

  “You’re not already?”

  I rolled my eyes and headed upstairs. After a quick shower, I scrambled into my jeans and a plain t-shirt. Downstairs, I could hear him giving Khan a hard time about the historical significance of tobacco farming. The cat was of the opinion that it was a blight on the planet, while Dante—I assumed humorously—was extoling its unmatchable population-culling virtues.

  As I went down the clear glass steps, I caught sight of the cat leap at Dante’s face. The treasure hunter deftly side-stepped the attempted attack. The cat waltzed off, huffing and puffing to himself once more about imbeciles.

  I entered the kitchen and put on the water to boil.

  “Well, he’s certainly charming,” Dante said.

  “You can have him back.”

  “No, you seem to be enjoying him too much.”

  I stuck out my tongue as the electric kettle began to steam. After retrieving one of the few mugs I owned from the otherwise threadbare cupboard, I poured the hot water into the cup and pushed the plastic jar of instant coffee toward the treasure hunter.

  “This would be considered cruel and unusual punishment on a ship,” Dante said.

  “Suit yourself.” I grabbed the clear jar and spooned out a large, heaping mound of instant coffee. The brown powder bubbled and dissolved into the hot water. A quick stir later, and I was enjoying the burnt taste of battery acid.

  “You can’t possibly like this stuff.”

  “It does the trick,” I said, not answering the question. “You mentioned something about the case.” I looked at him with suspicion over the steaming mug. “You have three minutes.”

  “I’ve already been here for half an—”

  “Two minutes.”

  Dante’s golden-flecked eyes twinkled. “Well, you know I’ve been around for a while.”

  “Clock’s ticking.” I took a long, bitter sip and glanced about the empty kitchen with feigned disinterest.

  “Fine, Eden.” Dante leaned his tanned elbows against the smooth granite island, trying to catch my eye. I wouldn’t let him. “I found Drake’s inheritance.”

  “Good for you.”

  “The biggest find of the past century, and that’s all you can say?”

  “Maybe you’ll get your
picture in the paper.” I finished the coffee, feeling the caffeine start to wash over my body. A jumpstart to my day—but probably not with Dante. I could give a shit about ancient treasure hauls, even if a quarter of the island was obsessed. Millions of dollars wouldn’t solve my problem, unless they were Aldric’s stamped gold.

  “I don’t think you heard me.”

  “Nope, heard you fine. You find a few hundred million in ancient gold.”

  “That’s not what Drake’s inheritance was,” Dante said with a dismissive snort. “You thought this was about money?”

  “It’s never about money. It’s about the thrill.”

  The lack of protest told me I was right. But I didn’t need his confirmation to know that Dante and I shared that need for an adrenaline rush. Living on the edge. Sure, we went about it in different ways. I made plans and masterminded things. He dove into the fray, swashbuckler style. But the end result was the same: living on the edge, trying to capture that feeling of being alive.

  Dante broke the silence and said, “We ripped off Aldric to pay for the equipment we needed to find it.”

  This got my attention like he’d suddenly shocked me with a livewire. “What?”

  “Figured you probably want to come check out your investment.” He offered me a grin that under different circumstances would be charming. But I felt sick. If Aldric couldn’t recover his gold, then I was screwed. If I couldn’t tell Rayna where the gold was, I was screwed. Neither of those were attractive options, but it was nice to have a parachute—even one filled with holes.

  Now, I was hurtling through the sky, arms locked with an immortal treasure hunter. I stared at the brown puddle at the bottom of my cup, and decided it was now or never.

  “Why’d you hire James to frame me?”

  “Frame you?” Dante pushed himself off the island and looked at me with disgust. “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “You tell me,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “That’s insane.” Dante scanned my face, searching for some acknowledgment that I agreed. When he found none, he threw up his arms. “What’d this James claim?”

  “That you called him and told him to plant the gun in my villa.”

  Instead of answering, Dante removed his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it across the kitchen. I dropped the coffee cup as I brought my hands up to catch the device. I glared at him.

  “Check it.”

  “You could’ve deleted the call. Called him from a payphone. Landline.”

  “Christ, Eden, I didn’t set you up.” Dante looked genuinely annoyed, which I had thought was impossible. “You were integral to the plan all along.”

  I set the phone on the counter and said, “Excuse me?”

  Dante wore the expression of someone who had overshared, and was now embarrassed. “Nothing.”

  “Wrong answer.” I opened his call log, briefly scanning it. No calls to unknown numbers—a few to me, then to his associates. Hardly conclusive, but not damning, either. But I was going for broke, now, since I was running out of time. I switched to the call tab and put in the number for a local pizza joint. “I’m calling the cops.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Then make me believe you.” The phone rang in my ear as the call connected. “It’s dialing.”

  “Why would you call the cops?”

  “Because you had motive and means to kill Roan.” A stoned clerk answered the call on the other line. “Yes, hi, I’d like to report a—”

  Dante practically screamed. “He was just coming to patch things up that night.”

  The clerk sounded confused and asked me for my order. “False alarm. I’ll call back if needed.” I brought the phone down and narrowed my gaze at Dante. The treasure hunter was pacing back and forth across the room, looking concerned.

  “That was uncalled for, Eden.”

  “You giving me a lecture is rich. I’ve sensed your soul.”

  Darkness flooded his face and he said, “Then maybe you shouldn’t jerk my chain.”

  “I’m right here, tough guy.”

  Dante shook his head, but didn’t come after me. Which gave me my answer: he hadn’t killed Roan to make his own cut of the action bigger. He wasn’t that kind of guy, who turned on their allies and fed them to the wolves. Well, at least not now—there was that little black mark on his past corresponding with how he’d obtained his immortality. But I didn’t need to go deeper on that right now.

  I slid my fingers along the smooth island, tasting the dregs of the coffee lingering on my tongue.

  “Who else knew Roan was going to be here to…patch things up?” I hadn’t even known he’d set me up until Dante had let it slip a few days ago. That conversation would’ve been awkward—hey, babe, remember when you and your sister died? That was on me. Surprise! I sold you out. If that had happened, I might’ve actually wound up being the murderer.

  “Zoe, Magnus, Doris,” Dante said. “They’re all solid.”

  “Anyone else you can think of?”

  “He had to make a stop beforehand.”

  “Where?”

  “I figured he was getting a drink,” Dante said. “Dude sounded nervous. Which, you know, considering, it made sense.”

  “You mean considering he basically killed me.”

  “If you want to look at it that way.”

  I walked over to him. “So, tell me what my role in all this is.”

  “That’s simple, Eden.” Dante gestured toward the door with an after you expression. “You can talk to goddesses.”

  My blood turned to ice.

  I guess my secret wasn’t as secret as I’d thought.

  20

  Number of people I thought knew I could talk to goddesses at the start of the week: one rather creepy mayor. Number of people who actually knew, circa today: unknown. Could’ve been everyone. I envisioned riots and cults running roughshod over the streets, sacrificing people and small woodland creatures on car hoods while they implored the gods to answer their prayers.

  Such were my thoughts as Dante and I blasted off into the perfect day, speeding through the jungle on the way to his treasure stockpile.

  Atheas has vast untouched forests and swaths of nature that would probably be—sometime in the next century—claimed by the greedy paws of enterprising developers. The weather was just too good to allow the wildlife to enjoy the sunsets free of charge.

  But, in that moment at least, the island remained largely untouched by mankind’s grubby quest for capitalistic progress. Dante accelerated into the turns on the winding road, oblivious to the dangers that might befall someone who hadn’t made an immortal Faustian bargain.

  Dante hit the accelerator harder, picking up speed into the curve. The sports car gripped the road like a glove, making the sharp turn with agile ease. Glad one of us felt comfortable enough to let loose. Because, over here, I was shitting my pants.

  This was worse than him being the murderer. Much worse.

  “You look a little pale over there. Too fast?”

  “Not the issue.”

  “Then why the sad look, Eden Hunter?” Dante gave me a playful wink. “We’re off to see Drake’s treasure.”

  “You haven’t seen it yet?” I was still processing that, maybe—just maybe—my poker face wasn’t as good as I’d hoped. What if Aldric found out that I had Lucille’s ear? That would be a goddamn disaster.

  “Just you and me.”

  “Romantic.” I reached my hand over to the wheel, feeling the urge to get away.

  Dante said, “Don’t even think about it.”

  The sun kissed off the car’s bright white paint, which would have made our excursion romantic under normal circumstances. But this situation was anything but. My fingers lingered in the air, and then I slowly withdrew my arm. We would not be barreling into a grove of trees, and I would not be crawling away.

  Yet.

  There was still time.

  I ran my fingers along the leather interior,
as the GPS beeped and blinked to indicate we were closing in on a treasure that had eluded would-be adventurers for centuries. Time ran together in a blur of banana trees, orchids and dense green foliage, and soon I realized the car was coming to a gentle stop.

  “Ready to fulfill your part of the plan?” Dante’s hand snapped the chrome door handle. Heat flooded through the car’s interior.

  “Not really.” I stayed glued to my seat, staring through the windshield. This place was familiar, but it wasn’t one I tried to visit on a regular basis. The Boundless Jungle sat on the very southeastern tip of the island—so named because the trees simply continued to grow into the ocean for miles. No soil, no land—just an endless grove of tropical trees stretching into the water. Don’t ask me how it was possible. Scientifically, it wasn’t. But magic had funny ways of rendering science moot.

  “Did you kill Roan to get me to come along?” It dawned on me that this had the trappings of a long con. Put the mark in a cage, offer her no way out, then corral her into the only path that felt safe.

  “I thought we were past that.”

  “Guess not,” I said, voice tight. The Reaper’s Switch dug into my leg next to the burner phone I’d picked up. Other than that, I was on my own out here. Then again, I’d chosen to come along.

  Some plan, Eden.

  Dante slipped out of the convertible and ducked his head back inside. His gold-flecked brown eyes sparkled with concern. “If we’re going to work together, you really need to trust me.”

  Sounded like something I might’ve said when a grift was going south. Make the other party feel foolish about their reservations—that the paranoia was all in their head. But here was the thing: someone was out to get me. Multiple someones, in fact.

  Four years ago, Roan had taken a payment from Aldric to sell me out. Moreland had come and killed me and my sister. Then, on Monday, he’d sent someone to kill me as a “wake-up” call.

  Rather coincidentally, Roan had been killed at almost the same time, right outside my house. Then I’d been framed. By Aldric? By Dante? By one of the crew? By the mayor? Who really knew. All I did know was that I’d been set up before—and paid the price.