Hunted (Riley Cray)

by A. J. Colby

  I’d always considered Loki to be a large cat—the last time I had wrestled him to the vet he’d clocked out at 22lbs—but he looked small and delicate as a kitten compared to the creature asleep on the counter. A long and bushy pale yellow and white stripped tail twitched as the cat slept, no doubt dreaming of chasing mice. Or, more likely elephants.

  Holy crap. That’s not a cat, that’s a damn Shetland pony!

  The man lounging behind the counter was equally unusual looking, appearing to have stepped straight off the set of Gangster Squad. Dressed in a light blue button-front shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a dark grey vest he looked as though he belonged in late 1940s Los Angeles rather than a charms shop in downtown Denver. The only aspect of his appearance that went against the 1940s gangster motif was his dark brown hair that fell well past his shoulders.

  There was something otherworldly about him, unrelated to his antiquated style of dress. Watching him lean against the counter, his stubble covered chin resting on one hand while he flipped through a comic book, I struggled to puzzle out what it was about him that tugged at something in the back of my brain. Maybe it was that he was easily at least six foot four, or maybe it was the fine tracery of faint, almost opalescent, scars that covered his hands and forearms.

  At the sound of our footsteps, eyes the color of roiling thunderheads rose to regard us, the sheer weight of his presence crashing into me like a physical blow, making me stumble. He looked to be only a few years older than me, and yet there was something lurking in the depths of his eyes that held the weight of centuries. The scent of ozone, heat, and something akin to burnt feathers flowed off him, mingling with the incense filling the air to create a heady perfume that was utterly mesmerizing.

  Whatever he was, he wasn’t human, and I was sure I’d never met one of his ilk before.

  “Can I help you folks find something?” he asked as he brushed a long trail of hair away from his face. The weight of his eyes passed over me as he took us in, seemingly unconcerned by Loki’s presence.

  “I’m looking for some information on a couple charms,” Holbrook said, striding forward.

  “We carry the usual fare you’ll find most places, and a few more specialized items. Are you looking for something in particular? Some heat charms? A stay dry spell? They’ve been our biggest sellers lately.”

  “No, I actually want to know about a couple specific charms you might have sold to someone else,” Holbrook said as he fished his badge out of his jacket and laid it down on the counter.

  “FBI huh? Well, Agent, if they were bought here, I’ll be able to tell you.”

  “And you are?”

  “Killian Hunter,” he replied, though he didn’t offer to shake Holbrook’s hand.

  “Do you own the place?”

  “No, my landlady owns the joint, but I work most of the shifts now that she’s getting older,” he said, his tone sorrowful as if the thought of his boss aging was heartbreaking. “Which charms did you want to know about?”

  “We’re looking for a pretty powerful glamour charm,” Holbrook said. “A woven band worn around the wrist.”

  “He had to have been wearing something for pain too,” I piped up from my position just inside the door. “There was no way he was strutting around without any pain after the ass-whooping I gave him. And there was the weirdness with Santos, like he wasn’t seeing what was really there.”

  Killian quirked an eyebrow at my words, but chose not to say anything. I just shrugged my shoulders in reply to the unspoken question as if to say “the bastard deserved it.” Moving to stand beside Holbrook I was glad to see that Loki was sticking close to me. I wasn’t in the mood to be scouring every inch of the place looking for him when it was time to leave.

  “A persuasion charm, perhaps?” Killian offered as he reached beneath the counter and withdrew a large, leather-bound tome.

  He extended a long, slender finger to prod the cat, who at some point had awoken, and was now watching us with gleaming yellow eyes, ushering him off the counter.

  “Get down, Ash.”

  Emitting a meow that spoke clearly of his displeasure at being roused, the large cat made a show of stretching and yawning, before stalking to the end of the counter where he sprawled out once more.

  Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Killian muttered “pain in the ass” and laid the book on the counter with a muffled thump. The massive book would have looked as at home in a museum as it did in his long-fingered hands, and I was overcome with the desire to touch its lustrous leather cover. The leather creaked as he opened it towards the middle and began flipping through the pages. Curiosity made me lean closer, eyeing the thick paper that held the almost metallic tang of ink. It was a ledger, one that looked like it had been maintained for decades, if not longer, each entry written in the same looping script. Reaching the most recent entries Killian ran a finger along the edge of the page, his eyes tracking down the columns.

  “Here we go,” he announced after a moment, and turning the book around to face us, pointed to a single line. “A glamour bracelet and a pain amulet were purchased two days ago by Elena Shoup.”

  “Who the hell is that?” I asked while stomping down on the seed of doubt that had begun to bloom in the pit of my stomach.

  I’d hoped we’d stumble on the evidence that damned Johnson right away, refusing to entertain the notion that he wasn’t operating alone. For the most part, his assault had seemed to be a spur of the moment event, but if he was working with someone else that might mean he’d been planning it for a while. That complicated things. Turning to face Holbrook I said, “We’re no closer to figuring this out than we were before.”

  “What about the persuasion charm? Where would Shoup have gotten that?” Holbrook asked, ignoring my comment. At least one of us hadn’t given up hope at the first roadblock.

  “Not here, that’s for sure. I don’t deal in illegal merchandise, and anything that starts to influence the minds of others is definitely hedging towards black magic. That doesn’t mean you can’t find ways to get your hands on it though, if you know where to look.”

  “And where would you look?” I asked.

  “Like I said, that’s black magic. I don’t mess with that crap,” Killian replied with a tight smile.

  Perhaps sensing my growing frustration, Holbrook interrupted to ask, “And Shoup? Is she a regular?”

  “Not really, but I’ve seen her around.” The way Killian said it made me think he didn’t like her much, but he didn’t expound on the matter.

  “Was anyone with her?”

  “No one came in with her, but there was a guy that stayed in the car out front.”

  Pulling out his phone, Holbrook brought up a picture of Johnson in all his beady-eyed, asshat glory. “This the guy?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get a clear look at him, sorry.”

  “Do you have security cameras around here?” Holbrook asked, looking around the shop. I hadn’t noticed any cameras when we came in, but I hadn’t been looking either.

  Who knows, maybe we’ll catch a break, I thought.

  “No, sorry. Most of our clientele prefer not to be tracked by big brother. Despite what the laws say, there’s still a lot of prejudice against non-humans.”

  “I’m well aware of the prejudice out there,” Holbrook said, though I couldn’t understand why his words were tight and clipped. “Do you have any information on Shoup? A phone number? An address?”

  “I do,” Killian replied slowly.

  “Why didn’t you mention that before? Hand it over,” I demanded, receiving a scowl from Holbrook.

  “I can’t do that. Not without a warrant.”

  “Why the hell not?” I asked.

  “We respect the privacy of our clients, and their desire to protect their personal information.”

  I wanted to tell him that I didn’t give a fairy fart about his client’s privacy, but the vitriol laden words hanging on the tip of my tongue withered
when his cat jumped down from the counter with a thud and rasping hiss. Trepidation coiled heavy in the pit of my stomach as I watched him adopt a wary crouch, the long fur of his belly brushing the wooden boards. Emitting a rumbling growl, almost too low to hear, he began to inch towards us.

  Crap. This isn’t going to be good.

  Aside from the occasional bird or rabbit that he caught outside, I’d never witnessed Loki interact with any other animals. I hadn’t realized how much my isolation affected my furry companion until that moment, and had to wonder if I was doing him a great disservice by leading such a solitary life. My unease became a living thing, writhing in my gut, when Loki responded in kind, filling the air with a harsh growl of his own. In an instant his tail had puffed up into a pale bottle brush, and a ridge of fur stood up along his spine.

  Worried that it would soon come to blows I asked my two-legged companions, “Should we separate them?”

  Taking my eyes off the pair, who had begun to circle each other in a slow dance, long enough to look at Holbrook and Killian, I felt a flicker of irritation when Holbrook raised his shoulders in a shrug. Meanwhile, Killian ignored my question and continued to watch the interaction with interest. Following the path of his gaze I was surprised to see that he was studying Loki rather than watching his own cat.

  Having moved into the open space between the counter and closest table covered in merchandise, the two cats faced off like a couple of furry sumo wrestlers trying to decide which one of them was the bigger bad ass. Based on size alone, I was betting on Killian’s monster.

  Taking a step towards them I froze when the yellow and white behemoth turned burning eyes on me. The air rushed out of me as if someone had delivered a crushing blow to my solar plexus, and I was filled with the need to put as much space between us as possible. Just as I was sure that Killian was not human, I had no doubt that the animal staring me down was not truly a cat. I had no idea what kind of creature it was, and was fairly certain that I didn’t want to find out.

  Overcome with renewed concern for Loki, I swallowed the panic that fluttered in the back of my throat like a caged bird. Gritting my teeth against the fear that wanted to propel me out of the door, I stood my ground, but couldn’t summon the courage to step between them. Each was slunk low to the floor, legs spread wide and tails raised like slowly waving flags.

  “Hey, Dumb and Dumber, you want to give me a hand before this turns into bloodshed?” I said.

  Snapping out of his fascinated study of Loki, Killian glanced at his cat, or whatever the hell it was, and frowned.

  “Ashiel. Knock it off.”

  At first I wanted to laugh and ask him if that was all he had up his sleeve, but to my surprise, the tension in the air dissipated in the slow blink of gleaming yellow eyes. I could do nothing more than watch, mouth agape, as the large creature sat back on his haunches and proceeded to wash his face in a display of utter calm. Likewise, Loki assumed a stance of indifference by stretching out across the floor, only the occasional twitch of his tail belying his appearance of tranquility.

  “Well, that was about as weird as an ogre in drag,” I muttered.

  Together, Holbrook and Killian looked at me as if I had sprouted a second head, but I just ignored them and got back to the matter at hand.

  “So, are you going to share that information about Shoup?”

  Killian momentarily looked as though he’d like to sic his beast of a cat on me, but thankfully just crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

  “This woman could be associated with a raving lunatic, and you won’t pony up her address because you want to protect her privacy?” I asked, mirroring his stance.

  Laying a hand on my shoulder, Holbrook pulled me around to face him. “You’re not helping the situation here. Maybe you should let me do the talking. I’m the one with the badge remember, and you do seem to lack a bit of...” he started to say, and noticing the sharpness of my gaze let the rest of his words die away.

  “Lack a bit of, what?” I demanded, uncrossing my arms to curl my hands into loose fists at my sides.

  “I simply meant that, perhaps it would be better if someone a little more...tactful...asked the questions.”

  “More tactful?” I parroted, wincing at the shrill edge to my voice. He thought I was tactless? He wanted to quibble over manners while this jerk was acting all high and mighty, lording his precious intel over us? Didn’t Holbrook understand that Johnson was out there, waiting for the right moment to strike and finish what he’d started? He wouldn’t need to protect me from Samson if Johnson got to me first. “Why are you taking his side?”

  “I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m trying to do my job, and you’re throwing a hissy fit.”

  “No, I’m not,” I snarled, though even I could hear the whine in my voice.

  Gentling his voice, Holbrook asked, “Why don’t you go wait outside?”

  “Wait outside?” I repeated, my voice fading into a faint croak. He was dismissing me like an errant child. The display cases on the counter shuddered when I slammed my fist down on the smooth wood, making both of the men jump while the cats barely batted an eyelash. “This is such horseshit!”

  Not waiting for a response from Holbrook, sure that whatever he had to say would just piss me off me, I stomped over to where Loki was sprawled on the floor and picked him up. Turning on my heel, I stormed out of the shop, letting the door slam shut behind me. The merry tinkle of the bell above the door somewhat diminished the effect of my dramatic exit, riling my anger all the more.

  Kicking at a clump of ice and road grime clinging to the wheel well of the SUV I narrowly avoided slipping on a patch of ice and falling on my ass. The sudden rush of adrenaline at my near fall worked to soothe my anger more than anything Holbrook could have done or said. Looking up, I spotted Collins and Hill watching me from inside their SUV, those damned smirks in place again.

  Great. Everyone in the FBI is going to think I’m a bumbling idiot before the day is through. If they don’t already.

  Hunching my shoulders up around my ears, as much to protect them from the chill wind as to hide my mortification, I opened the door of the SUV and let Loki down onto the seat before getting in after him. Closing the door with a slam, I propped my chin on my fist and waited for Holbrook to hurry up so we could get the hell out of there. By the time he joined me in the car my anger had cooled, leaving me fueled by my desire for vengeance rather than red hot fury. Buckling my seatbelt, I resolutely ignored the fine wrinkles around his dazzling eyes that meant he was desperately trying not to laugh.

  I slouched down in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “Shut up.”

  “Didn’t say a word,” he replied, his voice warm with amusement.

  “Hillbilly ass.”

  “Furry drama queen.”

  Damn him.

  I couldn’t help smiling at the mental picture his words produced, and regardless of my sour mood, I chuckled as I envisioned the wolf trotting down the street with a sparkly tiara perched on her head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “YOU HUNGRY?” HOLBROOK asked, startling me out of my thoughts.

  I’d been thinking about my hallucination of Samson’s face in the window of the restaurant, and was trying to figure out if I was losing my mind. My nerves were stretched thin, like too little butter spread over bread. I wasn’t sure how many more surprises I could take, and was growing tired of the emotional roller coaster I was on.

  Someone stop the ride. I want to get off.

  Straightening in my seat, I rubbed my forehead to warm the skin that had been resting against the window as I watched the world zip by. “Sure.”

  I glanced in the side mirror to watch our Men in Black watchdogs trailing behind us as Holbrook retrieved his phone from the holder on his belt. Their expressions remained as implacable as ever as he let them know that we were stopping for food, and I was glad when he told them to station themselves in the park
ing lot. I didn’t think I could have maintained an appetite with the Sunshine Twins breathing down my neck.

  Turning off the highway, we pulled into a Denny’s lot, but it wasn’t until I slid down out of the car that my stomach rumbled with hunger. With stern instructions for him to stay put, I left Loki in the car and let the smell of hash browns, cheeseburgers and French fries make my mouth water and lighten my steps.

  The restaurant was fairly empty, only a couple of booths and tables occupied with the last few stragglers from the lunch rush finishing up their food. A young hostess wearing far too much makeup showed us to a booth next to the large picture windows, the overtly floral scent of her perfume lingering long after she’d sauntered away.

  A guy who barely looked old enough to drive, with a face covered in acne and shaggy hair falling in his eyes, ambled over after a few minutes to take our drink orders. Still irritated from our earlier trip to The Sage Brush, I decided to treat myself to what every cranky woman needs – a large chocolate milkshake topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a plump cherry. There was a chance it would come back to haunt me later, but at that moment I just wanted a giant vat of chocolate and sugar to soothe my bruised ego.

  Drumming my fingers on the table as I waited for our server to return with our drinks, I looked around the restaurant, scoping out the rest of the people escaping the cold.

  A pair of white haired women sipping coffee sat across the restaurant directly beneath one of the heat vents, bundled up in woolen cardigans and snow boots despite the hot air blowing down on them. The one furthest from me wore a pale lilac sweater with pearl buttons down the front, the sight of it sending a pang of longing deep into my middle. I couldn’t help thinking of my grandmother and her fondness for the color purple.