Autumn Whispers o-14

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “That means so much to me.”

  “It’s true.” I sighed. “But I’d better get a move on. We have things to do before leaving for Otherworld tonight. See you this evening . . . and—whatever happens—we’ll be there for you.”

  As I left, she began to disinfect the table on which I’d rested my arm. I paused, watching the elf for a moment, then headed to the waiting room. Camille and Shade were sitting patiently, Camille was reading a book—a mystery by J. A. Jance. Shade was writing down something in a small notebook. They both looked up as I entered the room. I motioned to them and they stood, following me out the doors.

  When we were in Camille’s car, I told them what Sharah had said. “She’s scared out of her mind that Queen Asteria is going to be so pissed off she’ll kick her out of the family or something.”

  “Well, I know how that feels.” Camille frowned. Our father had disowned her for a while, for a decision she had made. He was just now working his way back into our good graces and had apologized profusely.

  “I told her we’d back her and Chase up, if the Queen gives her any flack.”

  “Hell yes.” Camille put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. “She and Chase are good people. I’m so tired of being pushed around by the royalty and I sure as hell don’t intend to stand by and watch that happen to friends.” She paused, and added, “While you were getting your hand looked at, I made a couple quick calls. Besides all of the offices in the Farantino Building, there’s also a small coffee shop, probably to service the people who work there. But it’s also open to the public. We can make a stop there, and get a feel for the building that way.”

  “Have you had a chance to look over what Carter gave us last night? The files on the building?” I had been in no shape to do so that was for sure.

  She shook her head. “No, by the time we got home, I was as done in as everybody else. But we can do that . . . I guess when we get back from Otherworld. It doesn’t seem pressing at this point so I think a day’s delay won’t hurt anything.”

  As we headed to the Farantino Building, I watched out the window at the heavy rains pounding down. We were in the thick of autumn now, and the energy was strong for me. Hi’ran loomed in my thoughts, and as I leaned back against the seat, soothed by the gray clouds and the gloom, it occurred to me just how far I’d come since we moved here. And it made me wonder just where I was going to end up.

  Chapter 8

  We found a parking spot right away, thanks to Camille’s ever-uncanny luck at being in the right place at the right time. During the day, the Farantino Building looked even more imposing. The brickwork was intricate, the row of lifelike gargoyles lining the ledge giving pause. They had been made at a time when I doubted molds were used, and indeed, from even this distance, they seemed to have their own personalities and differences.

  Camille leaned toward me. “They look real.”

  “Yeah. But wouldn’t Grandmother Coyote tell us if there were more granticulars than just Astralis and Mithra?”

  She snorted. “You want to bet on that? Grandmother Coyote? Secretive much, I think.” Hoisting her purse over her shoulder, she opened the car door. “Let’s get a move on. At least they aren’t going to be on the lookout for us. Whoever they are and whatever their agenda is.”

  A mad dash through the rain and we were in the street-front coffee shop, called the Café o’ Lait. It was small, but laid out in a precise manner that allowed for a surprisingly large number of customers to sit. I glanced around and led the way to a table near the back. I could see a hallway leading out into the rest of the building from there, and we had an unobstructed view of the rest of the coffee shop.

  I motioned for Camille and Shade to have a seat. “What do you want? While I order our drinks, you can get a feel for the people in here. You’re better at that than I am.”

  Camille nodded. “Order me a quad venti iced chocolate caramel latte, would you?”

  Shade laughed. “Caffeine hound. I’ll have black tea. Milk, two sugars.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed me a ten and a twenty. “Better get us each a brownie, too.”

  Camille shook her head. “I’d rather have a roast beef sandwich, thanks.”

  I took the cash and headed up to the counter where I placed their orders, along with one for a tall hot chocolate and two peanut butter cookies for myself. As I stood there, waiting for the cashier to give me my change, I tried to start up casual conversation. “So, we just happened by and saw this place. How long have you been open?”

  The cashier glanced at me. She didn’t seem all that friendly, but she smiled briefly and gave me my change. “Several years. I just work here, though. I have no idea when they opened the coffee shop.” She set a tray on the counter and slammed down a prewrapped sandwich on it, a small paper plate with the brownie and two cookies on another. “Here’s your food. I’ll bring your drinks over to your table when they’re done.”

  And with that, she turned away and I realized the conversation was over. Ignoring the tip jar—which I seldom did—I carried the food back to the table.

  “Apparently the cashier has either had a very bad day or she’s not interested in casual conversation.” I handed Shade his brownie as Camille unwrapped her sandwich.

  As she bit into it, she winced. “Um, they aren’t that interested in making food taste all that good either. This is okay but it’s not going to win any awards for sandwich of the week. Either that or I’m spoiled by Hanna and Iris’s cooking.”

  I tasted the cookies. They were nothing to write home about. “I guess they have a captive audience with the workers in the building.” Glancing around, I tried to assess the clientele. “They all seem to be suit-and-tie, even the women have that dressed-for-success look. Think they all work here?”

  Pausing as the waitress brought us our drinks, Camille waited till the girl went back to the counter before speaking. “I think so. And I don’t sense any Demonkin, or even daemons—though I’m not as good at sussing them out as I am Shadow Wing and his kind. These people all seem entirely human to me.” She looked perplexed.

  “Then what? We just go wandering around the halls trying to figure out what’s going on?” It wasn’t like the building was a top security fortress, as far as we could see. “We can always say we thought our lawyer was in this building if somebody tries to stop us.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She dropped the remaining half of her sandwich on the tray. “This isn’t even good enough to finish.” Picking up her drink in one hand, with the other she carried the tray over to the trash bin and we headed out into the hallway.

  “Oh no, we’re not conspicuous at all,” Shade said, with a smirk on his face.

  I smacked his arm. “Oh, shut up, you goober.”

  He grabbed my hand, entwining his fingers through mine. “A kiss in payment and I’ll stop teasing you.” His eyes were playful, and I leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his lips, once again grateful we’d met.

  Camille laughed. “You two are cute. Now come on, let’s get a move on before somebody tries to stop us.”

  The hallway led to a bank of elevators, and beyond that, several offices with windowed doors. The hallway was carpeted in a rich navy blue plaid, with green and red stripes running through it. A few potted plants were snug in the corners, and near the elevators sat a wrought iron bench covered with a blue upholstered cushion. Camille saw it at the same time I did and we both shuddered. Cast iron gave us nasty burns, though steel didn’t affect us much. But touch iron too long with our bare skin? Led to a world of hurt.

  We passed the elevators and I motioned for Shade and Camille to stay near them as I slipped down the hall to sneak a peek. There were five doors, as well as an entry to the stairwell. The first two offices simply had names on the doors without any indication of title or status or vocation. I jotted down the names quickly and moved on.

  The third door, however, had two names: WILSON PRESCO
TT III, P.C., AND REGINALD D. FAIRFAX, P.C., ATTORNEYS AT LAW. The fourth door had no nameplate, but there was mail stuck under the door. I wanted to pick it up and glance at the name but the chance of someone coming along and seeing me was too great. The fifth door had a sign on it that read JANITOR.

  So two lawyers, a coffee shop, a couple unknowns, and a maintenance room. There was no sign that anybody saw me, but as I headed back to the elevator, two women who had been in the coffee shop were making their way into one of the elevators. They were giving Camille and Shade a long look, but then went back to whispering and laughing. As the doors shut, I quickly rejoined the others.

  “Gerald Hanson’s office must be on one of the upper floors.” Camille frowned, looking around.

  “Anything at all?” I looked at Camille. “If you can’t sense anything, nobody can.”

  She sighed, then closed her eyes again and leaned back against the wall. A moment later, she shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “Shade?” I turned toward my fiancé. “What about you?”

  He shrugged. A moment later, he softly said, “There are ghosts here, but they feel lost rather than angry or dangerous. I can’t pinpoint them, nor can I sense anything else. But I can tell you this: I believe there’s something blocking energy. Or rather, blocking the identification of energy. I sense a force field of some sort.”

  “Force field? Usually people put up a force field when they want to keep prying eyes out of their business. Can you sense the nature of it at all?” I frowned. Too bad Iris was out of commission. She was really good with things like force fields and illusion spells. Morio had some talent at it, but Iris was the one who was our expert. But right now, not such a good time to call her up.

  Shade pursed his lips, then closed his eyes. After a moment, a breeze ran through the hallway but I was able to recognize that it was off the astral. Thinking Shade was responsible, I turned to him but he looked deep in trance and I didn’t want to disturb whatever he was doing. I looked at Camille, touching her arm, and she nodded.

  With a shiver, Shade’s eyes flew open and he looked around nervously. “I think we’d better get out of here. I can’t tell you why just yet, but this is not a safe place to be until we’ve done more research. Seriously, you and Camille? You need to leave this place. Now.” And with that, before we could speak, he slipped his arms around both our shoulders and pushed us back down the hallway toward the coffee shop.

  We had almost reached the front door when my stomach lurched. I stopped at the same time as Camille, and subtly turned to look over my shoulder. She did the same.

  Behind us, entering the shop from the hallway through which we had just retreated, was a man. He looked human enough, but there was something about him that was hard to pinpoint. He was suave—very suave, dressed in a suit that, from hanging out with Chase, I recognized as Ralph Lauren. The man had paired slim black dress trousers, which looked like expensive jeans, with a black leather sport coat. Beneath the coat, he was wearing a cobalt blue V-neck cashmere sweater that made his golden tan pop.

  The man had incredible features. His tan looked so natural that I couldn’t tell if it was his normal skin color, from the sun, or a very expensive tanning bed. And his hair was shaved close—not so that he was bald, but his buzz cut worked. The shape of his head seemed symmetrical and I found myself focusing on the tattoo showing through the pale layer of hair. I couldn’t see from here what the ink portrayed, but it covered his head.

  When I caught his gaze, his eyes stopped me. Pale green, the color of spring grass, they were ringed with a black halo, and his gaze was arrestingly sharp. He stared at me, then his gaze flickered over Camille and Shade, and he slowly, deliberately, headed in our direction.

  I wanted to run. Panic welled up in my throat and, not knowing where it was coming from, I tugged on Camille’s arm. She, too, looked alarmed. Shade must have noticed our reactions because he stepped between the approaching man and us.

  “How do you do?” The man held out his hand. “I hope you’re enjoying our little establishment here.”

  Shade nodded, ignoring the outstretched hand, but he did so with a smile to disarm. “We were about to leave, but yes, we needed coffee and happened to notice the Café o’ Lait.”

  The man regarded Shade with quiet consideration. After a moment, his lips turned up at the corner, and once again, he glanced at Camille and me. “You have very lovely companions.”

  I could tell that Camille had taken an instant dislike to the man. As she opened her mouth to speak—no doubt to say something charmingly rude—I nudged against her, trying to shut her up. But Shade beat her to the punch.

  “I’m afraid we have to be going.” He smoothly turned and, once again, propelled us forward.

  As we neared the door, the man behind us called out, “Please, do come again. And bring your lady friends. We always enjoy having beautiful customers grace our halls.”

  And then, we were out, crossing the street toward the parking lot. None of us spoke, but I was incredibly grateful that Shade was behind us. And I was also thankful that we’d parked in a lot, where it wouldn’t be immediately apparent which car we were getting into.

  The minute we settled ourselves in the Lexus, I noticed Camille began to shake. “What’s wrong?”

  “That man, he scared the fuck out of me. He’s not human, I know it. He’s nowhere near human. I think he might be daemon but I can’t be sure. But . . . his energy? He’s as dangerous as he is gorgeous. And that charisma he has? It’s natural—like our glamour. There was no magic being used there.” The words spilled out of her in a rush, and she clutched the steering wheel.

  “She’s right. He does have a natural charm.” Shade looked around the lot. “And he is dangerous. Which is why I didn’t let you say anything. We do not want to arouse his suspicions, given the building’s nature, nor engage him in anyway—that much I can tell you.”

  “Dude, I wasn’t going to be snarky, regardless of what you thought.” Camille let out a long sigh. “I was simply going to tell him thank you and then leave.”

  “Either way, we needed to leave there. Fast. It looks like we can exit through the alley there. I’d rather not pull out on the street in case he’s watching. He doesn’t own the coffee shop, I can tell you that. Nobody wearing that suit owns a freaking coffee shop.”

  I glanced at them. “There was something seriously wrong about him. I think . . . I think we need to figure out who he is and what his connection with the building is. Because if there’s a daemonic problem like Grandmother Coyote thinks there is, then I’ll bet you anything that he’s a big part of it.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Shade asked. “We can describe him to Carter but . . .”

  “I’ll tell you how,” Camille broke in. “While he was talking to you, I managed to snap a picture of him with my phone. We can download it at Carter’s and he can perform some of that tech mumbo-jumbo and see if he can come up with a facial recognition of anybody in his files.” She stopped and grinned. “At least, that sounds about right to me.”

  “Get a move on, woman. The longer we sit here, the more time he has to come check out our license plate.” Though his voice was gruff, Shade was smiling.

  I had to smile too. “I’ll make a detective out of you, yet. You can join my agency.”

  “Right. And you can shimmy back into those gold lamé pants Menolly had you in that one time, and go clubbing with Trillian and me.” She snorted, easing the car into the back alley.

  * * *

  All the way to the park my mind kept racing over the man at the coffee shop. He was dangerous. He was rich. Or could he be married to somebody who’s rich? But no. He exuded power and men like that didn’t give over control to a rich wife. They kept hold of the purse strings, and they had the trophy wives and the eye candy on the arm.

  I tried to shake the thought out of my head. We had something to focus on that might yield definitive results. And that would be the park. The rains could
easily have washed away footprints, but my guess was that if anything else had been dropped, it would still be there, caught in the tangle of undergrowth. The park was thick with ferns and huckleberries and vine maple that grew between the trees.

  When we reached Violet’s cottage, it looked the same as it had. A thought struck me—something I’d done before and gotten Chase pissed out of his mind at me for, but too bad. It was a way to find out what we needed to find out and the only way anybody could bitch at us was if they found out.

  I headed to the mailbox. Camille stared at me, a faint grin on her face, as I yanked it open and pulled out the stack of mail. It was obvious that it hadn’t been picked up for a while. I tucked it into the car, Camille locked the doors, and we headed into Violet’s backyard.

  Interlaken Park was only a few yards behind the cottage, and a metal fence divided the two. But the fence was low and easy to step over. It would have been just as easy to break down, too.

  I swung over it with no problem and so did Shade. But Camille, in her skirt and corset, eyed it with hesitation. It really wasn’t that tall, but she could easily catch any number of laces or hems, or one of those teetering heels on it. Shade laughed and leaned back over the fence, picking her up as easily as he might pick up a feather. He quickly deposited her on the ground next to me.

  Camille laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t even think about a fence without a gate. Okay, let’s have a look around. Where’s her bedroom?” She shaded her eyes and gazed back at the cottage. I followed suit.

  There—there it was, to the far left corner. And not all that far from here. It wouldn’t be hard at all to see what was going on inside the bedroom if the lights were on and the curtains open. Or if someone had night vision.

  I glanced around. “You take that patch over there. Shade, go back a little farther. And I’ll look here. Check under ferns, under bushes, at the base of the trees. Look for footprints, debris—cigarette butts, food wrappers, cups, and the like. Anything that might give us a clue as to whether Violet was being spied on. If she had a stalker, she might have been abducted. And she might have been abducted at home, although Albert thinks her purse is missing.”