“This coming from the sprite who rolled in donkey dung to cool himself off.”
“I thought it was mud.”
I smirked and went to the door. “You coming?”
“You think I want to sit here in this bordello all day? Seriously, your night of passion has seeped into the walls.”
My cheeks heated as another memory flickered through my mind. “If you keep talking about it, I will wrap you in one of the sheets and tie you to the bed.”
He chirped and ran for the closing door. Scaling my body, he took a seat on my shoulder. “Poor Pam will have to suffer in your stench all day.” He sighed.
I smiled. I had given up trying to convince him Pam didn’t have emotions. Actually, I sometimes slipped and treated her like she did. And really, who was I to judge?
The restaurant was only a block away, but I fought with myself to turn back around and go back to bed. Ryker was a big boy and could take care of himself.
My mistake was saying it out loud.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he’s a big boy.” Sprig tapped the side of my face with his elbow in jest. “Oh, Ryker, you are so big.”
“I did not say that.”
“Oh, Viking, bang me with your large stick again.”
“Sprig, shut up.”
He snickered and opened his mouth again to talk. I snatched a banana off a seller’s cart and shoved it into his mouth.
“Aaaacck!” He batted the fruit away, scraping the taste off his tongue. “That was mean, Bhean. Dirty!”
“Then you stop being nasty.”
He tilted his soft head against my cheek. “But you like it dirty.”
“Ahhhh!” I yelled and Sprig went sailing off my shoulder and landed in the bushes.
He brushed himself off, scrambling out of the brush. “Dirty and rough.”
I flipped him off and kept walking.
“With no sense of humor,” he shouted.
I stepped into Izel’s with Sprig tucked underneath my loose ponytail. After turning his wide eyes up at me, I couldn’t stay mad at him. Melosa’s youngest daughter, Raquel, was behind the cash register. Her eyes widened at seeing me, and she shook her head, calling for her mom.
Melosa bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She took me in, a frown cut across her forehead. “¿A donde fuiste, senorita?” Where did you go?
My eyes searched around pointlessly for Ryker. I knew he wasn’t there, but my eyes still went to his vacated chair.
“You two disappeared,” she said in Spanish. I knew she meant figuratively, but my shoulders still stiffened.
“I know. I am sorry. Please accept our apologies and add the meal to our tab.” Fluent Spanish flowed out of my mouth. “Did you happen to see where Ryker went?”
Melosa slanted her head. She wasn’t dumb. Melosa picked up on the fact we weren’t quite right, but overlooked it. We weren’t normal. Superstition was extremely strong in these parts, and they believed in the paranormal more here than Americans did. If DMG was searching for more seers, they should check out this area.
“He and another man were here, but I do not remember seeing them leave or in what direction they went,” she responded.
Great. Probably Croygen or Ryker glamouring their exit so no one would remember seeing them depart.
Melosa pressed her lips together and placed her hand on my arm, steering me back for the door. “Be. Careful,” she emphasized, keeping her voice low. At first I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but her head tipped to the side, her eyes full of unspoken awareness. My stomach rolled, knowing her warning was more about what she wasn’t saying. Did she know what we were?
“And do not trust the man in black.” She spoke sternly, almost commanding. Very unlike her normal cheerful cadence.
“What?” I pulled back and heat rushed my veins, turning acid around in my stomach.
“He is not genuine.” She glanced around warily. “His soul is corrupt. He will trick and deceive. Neither of you are safe.” She pressed her fingers into my arm again and nodded for the door, telling me to go. Find Ryker. The way she talked made me think she was a sensitive or possibly a seer. She understood what we were or at least that we were different, and for some reason she accepted Ryker and me. She nudged her head toward the door once more. “Go. Now.”
I squeezed her hand. “Gracias.” I nodded to her and Raquel before heading out. Raquel huffed, glaring at me. She clearly did not feel the same as her mother about me. Ignoring her, I hustled out the exit. Melosa’s warning clanged in my lungs. I needed to find Ryker.
“Calm down, Bhean.” Sprig patted the side of my face once we were out of the door.
“I have to locate Ryker.” He had known Croygen for a long time. He knew him and what he was capable of more than anyone, but the urgency to find Ryker didn’t lessen. I simply wanted to see him, to know he was all right. What if Croygen turned him over to Vadik or some other group willing to pay for the Wanderer and information on the stone?
“Don’t worry about him. He can take care of himself.”
“I know...” I took a deep breath, scanning the streets for a six-foot-three Viking.
“Geez, Bhean, your shoulder is so tight it’s like riding a Snathaid.”
“What’s a Snathaid?”
“A needle glider?”
“A what?”
“I think you guys call them dragonflies?” Sprig rubbed at my shoulder. “Well, they are a little different in the Otherworld. Snathaids are bony and uncomfortable to ride. It’s like having a wedgie up your ass.”
Forcing my shoulders to relax, I walked to the main part of town. My flip-flops trampled over beer bottles, confetti, random bits of clothing, and who knows what else from the previous night’s festivities. I didn’t want to think about the bra lying in the gutter or the underwear on the telephone pole. If Ryker hadn’t stopped me, mine would be in an alley.
Most people were still in bed, nursing hangovers and wisely staying out of the heat. There were a few men at the far end starting to sweep, but as slow as they were, it would take them days to finish.
I walked from one end of each street to another with no results, only escalating the increasing panic. The feeling something was wrong or Ryker was in trouble stirred my legs and chest in frantic movements.
Minutes, then hours, passed. Sprig eventually passed out in the safety of my bag. Every step I took, the familiar feeling rose in my chest. Fear. Abandonment. It was automatic and predictable, but I still couldn’t seem to stop the panic clenching at my lungs, restricting air from passing through. Sprig’s outline against my leg was the only thing keeping me from huddling in a ball and rocking.
“Dammit!” I yelled. I hated Ryker had brought out such intense feelings in me. I kept them well hidden before. Not even Daniel provoked this response in me. “Get it together, Zoey, he is fine!” I berated myself. Melosa’s warning only provoked all my other insecurities to surge along with the fear for his safety. I knew he hadn’t left me, but he brought out the fear in me. I didn’t really want to analyze why; it was there, and I needed to acknowledge it and move on. Before I had been a Collector, a hunter of fae, raising a preteen in a wheelchair, and getting myself through school. I was capable on my own and didn’t need anyone else. If he ever did leave, for Amara, or any other reason, I would be all right. I was good before he came, and I would be fine after he left.
My heart felt sad at the thought, but I knew I was right. I would be okay.
I took in a deep breath, rolling back my shoulders. The rain clouds trundled thicker in the sky, threatening rain and rumbling with thunder.
The first splashes of raindrops hit my forehead when I finally reached our lodging. I took two steps at a time up the two flights of stairs to our floor. Key in hand, I went for the lock when the door swung open, a large mass blocking the doorway.
“Where have you been?” Ryker’s tone was sharp, his face pinched in fury. His wrath took me off guard, and I stood silently in the ent
ry. “I didn’t know if you jumped to Zimbabwe or China and couldn’t get back.”
My brows furrowed. “You’re mad at me?”
“Yes,” he growled.
I pushed past him, and he shut the door behind me.
“I love you’re mad at me.” I put my hands on my hips, facing him. “You vanished too. Where did you disappear to? I’ve been freaking out all day thinking Croygen turned you over to Vadik or something. If you were really concerned about me, you could have easily found me scouring this town for you.”
A muscle along his jaw twitched, but he kept all emotion from his face. “I can handle Croygen.”
“Really? Melosa thinks we should stay away from him—that he is dangerous.”
“What does Melosa have to do with this? How does she know Croygen?”
I crossed my arms. “She knows what we are.”
“What?” Ryker froze, his eyes widening. “She knows?”
“I think she is a sensitive.” A sensitive wasn’t as powerful as a seer, but they still saw more than a normal person. “She warned me to be careful. Said Croygen was not to be trusted.”
“She said that? She said to stay away from Croygen?”
“Well, not in so many words. She called him the man in black.”
Ryker rubbed his stubble, walking in a circle, irritation riding high on his shoulders. He was silent, but the energy of his anger was loud. He slammed the chair into the table. “Like I said, I can handle Croygen. And we need him right now. I don’t need some crazy kook getting into our business.”
“Excuse me? You know I am one of those crazy kooks.” I pointed at myself.
Ryker angled his head in annoyance. “Slightly different.”
“Yeah, I am crazier.”
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His fingers wrapped around the top of the chair. “You never told me where you went.”
“Where I went?” I shook my head, confused as to why this was more a concern than Melosa knowing what we were or the danger of Croygen. “I jumped back here and then went immediately back to Izel’s. You were gone. All day. So don’t give me this fake overprotective crap. I can take care of myself.” I stepped to him.
“Fake?” he repeated. “You think this is fake?”
“I somehow got through before you. I think I can survive fine on my own.”
A crease wrinkled the space between his eyes. “What are you talking about? I never said you couldn’t handle yourself. Are you kidding? You can take care of yourself better than anyone I know.”
“Then what is your problem?” I gritted out.
He worked his jaw back and forth, his hand rubbing at his forehead. An aggravated noise came out of him as he turned and walked away from me. “I was worried.”
“What?”
He wheeled around, his arms outstretched. “I was worried about you, all right?”
I stood, stumped for a response.
“I didn’t know what happened to you, and I didn’t like it.”
Oh.
My earlier pumped-up self-talk deflated like a leaky balloon.
We both stayed silent. Finally, I cleared my throat. “What did Croygen want?”
Ryker rubbed at his beard. “He found Regnus. We meet Croygen tomorrow morning after daybreak.”
“Really? That’s great.” I forced myself to sound happy. I had to trust Ryker. If he said he could handle him, I had to let it go. Plus, Ryker was right. We needed him.
Ryker’s gaze narrowed on the top of my tank, stalking over to me. “You have blood on your shirt.” He picked up the fabric, his touch igniting my skin.
I peered at the few spots of red on my top. My mouth opened to tell him the truth, but nothing came out. I wasn’t ready. Even more after last night. Deep down, I sensed Ryker knew the truth, although neither of us vocalized it.
He moved toward the door. His shoulders tense around his ears. “Don’t wait up.”
“What? Where are you going?”
He slipped out, ignoring me.
Ahhhhh! A scream wanted to jump from my throat. Instead, I grunted and slammed the other chair into the table. “Goddamn Viking!” I leaned over the chair, breathing deeply.
“Is it safe to come out now?” A little voice spoke from the bag still wrapped around me.
I lifted off the strap and set it on the table. He crawled out on the counter. “Sorry, Sprig.”
“I don’t like it when Mommy and Daddy fight.”
I glared at him as I walked over to the dresser, pulling out a clean top.
“You know the asshole, I mean Ryker, is only acting like a toad because he’s scared.”
“Scared of losing his magic.” I huffed and slammed the drawer, the dresser banged into the wall.
“Don’t be all martyr-ie.”
“Martyr-ie? Is it even a word?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“Adding an ie to the end of everything doesn’t suddenly make it a word.”
He stuck his tongue out at me. “Getting off the point, Bhean.” He grabbed at a bag of Cancha Salada, a form of corn nuts, and started munching on the salty treats. He frowned. “They really should coat these in honey.” But he still lifted another to his mouth. “I mean, salt is fine, but I think they would be much better dipped in sweet, lovely, sugary honey.”
“Sprig?” I snapped my fingers. “Now you’re getting off topic.”
“Right.” He moved to a grocery bag we left on the table and threw out anything he couldn’t eat. All I could see was his fuzzy tail as he rummaged through. “Ick.” He tossed a banana over his shoulder. “Ugh.” A carton of toothpaste flew out on the table. “Isn’t there anything good in here?”
I sighed when another item was disregarded from the bag. “Sprig.”
“Oh, yes!” He wiggled out of the bag, rolling the can of Inca Kola out with him. He fumbled with the lid, rattling the can.
“Let me.” I could imagine the cola spraying us, drenching the ceiling and walls with the sticky substance. I opened it and jammed a straw into it.
He took a deep slug of the liquid and groaned happily. “Better! What was I talking about? Oh right! Viking boy doesn’t handle showing his feelings well. He will respond in anger or frustration, but he’s only hiding the fact he cares for you... a lot.”
I plunked down on the bed, noticing housekeeping had made our bed with fresh sheets. A new stack of towels sat on the table, and our disregarded clothes were now folded and stacked on top of the dresser. Involuntarily, chagrin heated my face. The maid only came in once a week, and she had been in the day before. I was aware she lived in the room down the hall. She must have heard us, and knew the sheets would need to be changed again.
“Told you, you were loud,” Sprig mumbled between bites.
I leaned over my lap and put my face in my hands. I was embarrassed everyone on this floor or perhaps the building heard us, but more than anything, I wished to do it all over again.
“Bhean.” Sprig jumped to the bed, crawling up my leg. “Who knows what tomorrow is going to bring. So why are you sitting here? Go after what you want.”
I gulped and looked at my hands. He was right. This was not a time for regrets or fear. I stood up, Sprig falling to the floor with a squeak. “You’re right.”
He climbed back on the mattress and bounced up and down. “Go get him, girl!”
I nodded and marched for the door. I wasn’t going to waste another second being stupid. Ryker might not feel the same, but at least he would know how I felt.
“Wait! Where are you going?” Sprig stopped jumping.
“To find Ryker.” I gave him a bemused look.
“Oh. Now? I was thinking more after you got me dinner.” He widened his eyes, sweet and adoring. “The honey chicken down at Jose Ricardo’s? Oh, pretty please. And several of the suspiro limeño. Holy fae poop! Those were good.”
I left him still jabbering. He had leftovers in the small refrigerator. He would survive. Without thinking, I p
roceeded to Tulio’s. It’s where I would go.
Soft rain pelted down as I ran for the bar. A low rumble of thunder gurgled from the clouds above. It would soon pour. Rain was different here than in Seattle. There it was constant and something you almost could ignore. Rain here stopped everything. It was as if the sky dumped all it had at once.
I wiped my arms and face as I entered the dingy bar. It was quiet, but a few regulars sat at their usual stools. Ryker was sitting at the end of the bar.
I stopped and watched him sip his beer. After every drink he slammed the bottle on the bar, his body language cold and unapproachable. Seeing him made it difficult not to lose the determination propelling me here; rejection and heartache was hard to ignore. But I knew my anger was not at him but our situation. We both were not the type to sit around, depending on others for help. I felt stagnant and lost. We had no real home or place to go. We were waiting. And that killed both of us. At least now, dangerous or not, Croygen gave us a forward moment. It could be our demise, but I think we both would take it over this purgatory.
Tulio gave me a nod, and I settled into the seat next to Ryker. Tulio set a beer in front of me, already knowing my favorite.
“Gracias.”
He quickly moved back to the other end of the bar, closer to the TV and away from us. Most of the patrons were watching soccer, ignoring the two outsiders.
“A little predictable, huh?” Ryker brought the bottle to his lips and took a swig.
“Not many places to go in this town.”
Ryker snorted. “Jose Ricardo’s has a bar.”
“And it’s filled with humans having dinner.”
His nose twitched slightly with disgust.
The sound of thunder quaked through the bar and filled the awkward silence between us. I took another gulp of beer, needing the liquid courage. It also helped with the headache—hair of the dog.
The Barrier Between (Collector Series # 2) Page 12
