“What scared you away from the house today? Was it the pack?” I continued to scratch his ears. Sure it was a dirty tool to distract him, but otherwise, we could be circling around the question for weeks before I found out what happened.
He tried to pull away, but I put the pepperoni on my lap right in front of his nose. “Just tell me what happened this morning and then you can have it.” Ah, the old stick and carrot routine, it never failed.
Alex bared his teeth and said, “Pack came, chasing, biting. Wanting to kill. Safer to run than fight.” He hung his head in shame with his last words.
“That’s okay, buddy. I would’ve run too.” I mulled over his words and absently gave him the pepperoni. The pack had been getting more aggressive the last few months. Alex had been with me almost seven months now, and at first I’d thought there would be nothing to worry about. Slowly, the pack had encroached more and more on my land, marking territory and making forays closer and closer to the house. A sigh escaped me and I scratched my head. Just add another problem onto the plate.
I knew from experience he wouldn’t go home now without me. Thanks to all that was holy I had a collar for Alex that hid his true form from anyone who might be able to see it—once more thanks to Milly—so he could come with me for the next few days. Having him with me would make it a little more difficult to maneuver, but a lot less lonely.
Darkness fell, the sky clear and the stars easily visible. No sign of a thunderstorm, or any other bad weather for that matter. Stuffing Alex into the Jeep, I said, “Stay here, buddy, I’ve got to get us a room change.”
Once John saw the damage, he gave me the nicest room the motel had, a suite with two separate beds stuck in the sixties.
“Can’t believe it,” John said and handed me my new room key. “You think they were after you specific-like?”
“Nah, I wasn’t even in there, John. I bet they were just looking for an easy score.” I felt a bit guilty; after all, it was my werewolf that caused the damage. I’d leave an extra large tip in the morning.
I waved to John and quietly beckoned Alex to come once the manager was out of sight. Alex bounded from the Jeep and barrelled past me into the suite, throwing himself onto the green shag carpet and rolling about with total abandon. “Listen, buddy, no more breaking into rooms, just wait by my Jeep, okay?”
Alex just stared at me, amber eyes uncomprehending. Letting out another sigh, I took off my jacket and placed my blades on the bed. My night-time routine never changed, no matter where I slept. The only thing I wouldn’t do tonight, since Alex was here, was go for a run.
Going through combinations involving hands, feet, elbows and knees, I worked a circle around an imaginary opponent. Muay Thai was my preferred method of hand-to-hand fighting; it gave me the most possibilities for striking out at someone. I always practiced in my working clothes, so that whatever restrictions they gave me, I learned to deal with before an actual fight. Fight like you practice and practice like you fight. That was what my instructors drilled into me. Once I’d gone through the various blows, I dropped to the ground, first into a plank, then into push-ups; over to my back for crunches, and then back to a plank. Sweat dripped around me, my jeans sticking to my body, and I ignored it all. No matter what, I needed my body to be strong and fit for fighting. If it failed me, then I would fail a child, and that was not acceptable.
An hour and a half after I started, I finally let myself quit. Leaving Alex to guard the main room and front door, I headed into the bathroom to shower off. Taking advantage of someone else’s hot water tank, I stayed in until the water cooled, my muscles tensing under the sudden temperature change. Stepping out onto the tile floor, water dripping everywhere, I glanced up at the foggy mirror. The heat from the shower sluiced off me as ice trailed down my spine. In bold letters written across the mirror were the words: “Cross the Veil and Die.”
I snatched a towel and wrapped myself up in it, then searched the room, opening the two cupboards and the single closet. Nothing. I peeked out into the main room to see Alex sprawled out on the bed, but no one else. Closing the bathroom door, I used the only other towel in the room to wipe the mirror clean, my hands shaking just a little. The words seemed to be etched into the glass, and all my efforts at erasing them were futile. Giving up, I stepped out of the bathroom, preferring to dress in front of Alex, who had no concept of nudity, than in the room where it felt like someone was watching me. Give me blood and gore any day over perversion and peeping toms—probably creepy, greasy little men. Damn, someone already knew I was looking for India. The only person I’d told was Milly. Could she have spoken to the wrong person in the Coven? Shit.
Clean clothes on, hair towel-dried, I crawled into bed and patted the covers. Some people might think it weird that I let a werewolf sleep with me. But when you have immunity and can’t be turned into a werewolf, there really is nothing to worry about. Other than the atrocious dog farts. He curled up at my feet, let loose one of said farts, and promptly began to snore.
Despite the words on the mirror, the worry over India and the pack chasing Alex away from home, sleep took me in less than ten minutes, my workout giving my body the tired edge it needed to drop off into dreamland.
Bad dreams were usual for me as my mind relived my past, and tried to make things better. I opened my eyes in my dream and it was Christmas morning, early, and Berget was tiptoeing into my room, not realizing my eyes were already open, her bright yellow pyjamas and housecoat making her easy to see. She’d always had a thing for the neon shades.
“Rylee, it’s Christmas morning! Wake up, we can go get our stockings!”
I closed my eyes. “This isn’t real.”
“What’s not real?” I opened my eyes and stared into her pristine blue ones, and wondered if perhaps I was wrong, perhaps this was real and the rest of my life was just a bad dream. A nightmare.
She reached out her small hand, rubbed it against my cheek, brushed off a tear.
“Why are you crying, Rylee? Why are you sad? This is a happy day.”
I brushed away another tear. “Berget, come here, let me hold you for a minute.” She skipped away laughing.
“Silly, Rylee, you can’t catch me!” Her face suddenly contorted. “Run! RUN!”
Her voice shattered what was left of the dream and I woke up, my breath coming in shallow gulps. The dream was nothing new and it would fade, leaving my adrenaline to also fade out in a matter of minutes. Or it would have, except for a shuffle of feet on the other side of my door and the faint jiggle of the handle, which caused my adrenaline to spike; I leapt out of bed.
Alex rumbled softly, his eyes half-closed. “Man with gun.” I knew who that meant. It was O’Shea on the other side of the door.
If O’Shea thought he’d find me shaking in my boots, he was about to get another thing coming. I was about to use Milly’s tactics to the hilt.
10
I stripped out of my clothes and ran to the door, trying not to think too hard about my desire to show off my body to O’Shea. With one last thought to precaution, I grabbed a blade with my left hand. Just in case.
Taking a deep breath I snatched the door open, holding the blade behind the door where it wouldn’t be visible, and said, “Hello?” in my best sultry voice. Much to my embarrassment, there was no one at the door. I peeked around the corner. Nothing. Not a single movement.
Alex came to stand beside me, sniffing the air. I could have sworn I’d heard someone. A glance at Alex told me I hadn’t been hearing things. His lips were curled back over his teeth and a steady growl slipped past his lips.
Pulling him back inside and putting some clothes on was my first prerogative. The second was to find out what Alex had smelled.
I crouched down to his level, dressed and with my blade attached, just in case. “What did you smell Alex? Was it a human? I thought it was ‘man with a gun?’”
He shook his head and snorted once. “No! Yes!” He barked out. “Wolf, big leader wolf at do
or. But man with gun too.”
Not entirely sure he was smelling right, thinking perhaps he was still spooked from his run in with the pack that morning, I did something I had never done before. I Tracked O’Shea. A moment of searching and I found him. Sure enough, he was close, but not close enough to be the perp at the door. I started to close the connection, but got a feeling of utter hopelessness that stopped me. It hurt me as if it were my own emotions, and not his that I was experiencing. My hands clenched into fists and I drew away from O’Shea, afraid I might feel sorry for him. It was one of the many reasons I didn’t like Tracking anything but kids. Adults were far too complex; kids, for the most part, were simple.
Believing Alex, I got dressed, then bundled him into the Jeep and headed to the front desk to check out. Sure, it was four in the morning, but I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, wondering who exactly was trying to break into my room. I might not be able to be turned into a werewolf, that didn’t mean that they couldn’t still rip me to shreds.
“Alex, stay.” I raised my hand to him and then went to the back of the Jeep. Digging around in the back seat I found his collar. It was a simple, wide leather collar with two diamonds in the top. Yes, I said diamonds, and yes the collar had cost me a bundle, but it was worth it. The diamonds were part of the spell woven into the collar to keep people from seeing him for what he truly was.
Another pang centered around my heart. Milly was such a huge part of my life, how was I going to do all I needed to without her help? Again, I shook off those thoughts and fingered the collar. Once on Alex, all the average person saw was a very large black dog of indiscriminate breeding. Others, those who could see through the veil, saw him for what he was, but most of them wouldn’t point fingers for fear of being pointed at themselves.
Slipping the collar over his big head I said, “Now, while you’re with me, you don’t leave my side, not for an instant. Got it?”
Alex nodded and crossed his heart with a big claw. I laughed. Some days he seemed so human. It broke my heart a little to see him trapped like this, knowing there was no way out for him.
I shook off my melancholy and walked down to the office, Alex tight against my leg. He was very literal, which was always good to remember.
The office was quiet when I stepped in, the creak of the door the only noise. “Mary?” I called out. John should have been off his night shift by now, his wife Mary taking over in the early hours of the morning. There was no answer. I tried again. “John? Hello, anybody?”
A shuffle from behind the back door and Alex began to growl. I wrapped my hand through his collar. No need to make matters worse and have Alex making more werewolves.
Another shuffle, and the door opened. “Checking out, Ry? Kinda early, ain’t it?” John wheezed out.
I blinked. “Yeah. You okay, John? You look like you’ve pulled an all nighter.”
He blushed. “Maybe you of all people would be the one to believe me. I got a funny feeling near the end of my shift last night. Hairs I got left all stood up on end and I got the feeling like I needed to have all the lights on. Find a shotgun and protect the homestead. Weird, huh? I didn’t like what I was feeling, so I told Mary to stay in bed and lock the door.”
His description didn’t really surprise me. Humans don’t like the feeling those from the veiled world give off, even though we all pretty much live side by side. It seemed Alex was right; it had been his pack leader. She was quite the bitch and the amount of power she carried around could make even the strongest heart stutter. She must have set old John’s spidey senses into overdrive. His rheumy eyes looked up at me and then flicked down to the large black dog at my side.
Before he could ask, I cut him off. “This is my dog, Alex. He followed me here and I didn’t have the heart to leave him out in the Jeep. If there’s an extra charge or penalty for having him in the room . . .” I trailed off at the look John was giving Alex.
“Never seen a dog quite that big before. Seen a wolf once. ‘Bout that size.” He stared up at me, his mind behind the rheumy eyes far more shrewd than I gave him credit for.
It was my turn to blush. “I guess, if you say so.” I pulled out two one-hundred dollar bills, more than twice what the room was worth for the night, and laid them on the counter. “Will that cover it?”
John smiled at me. “That’s fine, Ry. You and your . . . dog . . . are always welcome here. He don’t bite, do he?”
I shook my head. “No, of course not. I’d have to have him euthanized if he was to start that sort of thing.” My hand tightened on the collar. Alex may be simple, but he wasn’t stupid and he was very sensitive to the vibes people threw off. His tongue lolled and he kept his eyes lowered.
We left the motel, heading west on I-94, stopping only for breakfast at a McDonalds drive-thru, mostly for Alex. I ordered a coffee, black, for myself and a breakfast sandwich to ease my hunger pangs. Alex had three sandwiches, a stack of hotcakes and a large hot chocolate that he lapped up eagerly. There were still some very human things about him, despite his less-than-human exterior.
“Ready for a road trip, buddy?” My hands already on the wheel, my fingers licked clean of the fast food grease.
“Road trip!” Alex howled out the window, which set the dogs in the area into a frenzy.
“Back in the Jeep,” I said as I leaned over and rolled the window up. He slumped in his seat and gave me his best hound dog eyes.
I let out a sigh. “At least wait till we get on the interstate. Then you can howl out the window all you like. All right?”
His eyes lit up and his tongue lolled out past his wicked sharp teeth. I laughed at him and hit the gas as I drove up the on ramp. At least this trip would be anything but boring.
If only I knew how true that would turn out to be.
11
It was his day off. He should have been relaxing at home, not rehashing a case, but he couldn’t settle himself down. For some reason, Adamson’s digs still stung. It didn’t help that he knew she was out there hunting for India. Picking up a sheaf of papers he had on his retro black-and-white kitchen table, he flipped through the pictures.
India, the missing girl, showed a distinct resemblance to a young Adamson. He put the two pictures side by side; although Adamson was in her teens when her picture was taken, they looked close enough to be sisters, and that was a little spooky. Both of them had auburn hair that fell in waves, and there was a softness to both sets of eyes that got under his skin, made him feel like a big bastard.
With a sudden jerk, he threw the papers back on the table and let out a sharp gust of air. He never had trouble controlling his temper, but something about Adamson set him off, and she revelled in poking at him. Like it had become an Olympic Sport for her.
He fingered the tracking device he’d brought home with him, thinking maybe he’d drive out past her place, but the thing had flicked off like it was wont to do. No amount of changing batteries, updating software, or switching out parts made a difference. He’d learned it would come back on line when it felt damn good and ready, and not a bloody second before.
Reaching into the fridge, he pulled out a beer, paused and then put it back. Just in case he got a hit on the tracker.
Sitting back at the table, he spread the file out, flipping through it a page at a time. The similarities in the cases Adamson managed to pull out of her hat on her own were more than a little suspicious. The kids would go missing without a trace, local law enforcement could do nothing, somehow the parents would track Adamson down, and they would pay her to find the kids. And on all the cases she’d been brought in on, she’d found the kids, though not always alive.
And there was the rub. She had a better rate of success than any FBI agent, than the whole freaking agency! He slammed a fist onto the table and the tracking device lit up, blinking softly.
Grabbing it, he smiled. She was heading south. This wasn’t the first time and the pattern was too obvious; someone in New Mexico was helping her, and it was tim
e O’Shea met up with them both and had a chat with them.
Grabbing his jacket and keys, he jogged out to his vehicle. The wind was picking up and it whistled through the alley alongside his house. With a couple of days off in a row, it was a good time for a road trip, and this way no one would be the wiser to his deviation from procedure.
*-*-*-*
The drive to New Mexico was uneventful. I sped like crazy, trying to catch time I didn’t have in the first place. I could feel India, feel her fear and confusion and, worse than that, her strength slipping away from her. Not like she was dying, but that her willpower was slowly being eaten away. Whoever had her was making a push to get her under their control. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was what happened to Berget. The two cases were too damn similar for my liking. The park, the time of day, the damn date—even down to the swing India had been on. The only difference I could see was Berget wasn’t a spirit seeker, which was what I thought India was. My hands were wet on the steering wheel from my sweat, as I continued to roll the two cases over in my mind. My lower back felt clammy, and I feared the worst. That this case would end the same way Berget’s had—in a death where I couldn’t even bring the body back to her parents for closure.
I shook the thought away. No, I wouldn’t go there. Guilt rolled over me. I’d been so young, both in age and ability, that when Berget had been snatched, I didn’t know what I was doing. Still, I felt like it was my fault she was snatched, that I was somehow responsible for her going missing. It wasn’t hard for the detectives on the case to decide I was guilty, not when I tended to agree with them.
“This time will be different,” I said, startling Alex out of a light doze. He cocked his head at me, then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
After what was etched into my bathroom mirror, I knew they, whoever they were, knew I was coming for her. They also knew all about Berget, so I had to be ready to face whatever they would throw my way. None of this was making me feel better, not one bit.
Sexy Urban Fantasy Mystery [01] Priceless Page 5
