He was almost to Dionysia’s door when his ears caught an out-of-place sound. It was the slide of a leather shoe—one perfectly in sync with his steps. He was being followed.
Loki turned around with exaggerated casualness. The car window next to him exploded with a loud bang.
Fuck. He dove for cover, tripping over his feet. Spinning through the air wildly, he nearly knocked over the human police officer from Serin’s arrest.
Agent Romero pointed a gun at him. Horrified, Loki froze as the man pulled the trigger.
Romero winced as his shot was followed by a volley of return fire. Bullets flew, glass broke. In the distance, people screamed as random pedestrians ran away from the busy thoroughfare.
“I told you to get down,” he hissed at the young man he’d just saved from getting his head blown off. He pulled the kid behind the rear of a nearby sedan, wondering how the hell this had gone south so fast.
After having to cut Eileen loose, he’d been forced to reevaluate the evidence against her.
Her ice-queen lawyer had been right. They didn’t have anything concrete. Though he knew it was her in the photos, getting a jury to make the same determination would have been impossible. As for the murder of Harry Hobbes, the time of death was hours before they faced off over the body.
Ray had argued Eileen could have doubled back, but his gut told him otherwise. She hadn’t killed the old man. But he hadn’t been willing to let it go and move on. Too much weird shit had happened around the woman. And the way she’d left, touching his arm like that…
His arm had burned, sending streaks of electricity to his damn heart, jolting it like freaking cardiac paddles. He’d been hard for hours afterward. It had been both embarrassing and a bit painful.
Roy had a field day with that. He’d also given him shit for the ‘every curve’ comment, deservedly so.
A bullet hit the windshield of the car he and the boy were crouching behind. It exploded, raining blunt shards all over them.
Daniel hugged the car’s bumper, peeking out to aim at the black figure firing on them.
One. Two. Three. He breathed in time with his heart, calling on his training and something deeper for calm and focus.
Tunnel vision was sometimes a gift. Daniel was blind to his surroundings. All he could see was the masked man twenty yards or so away.
He fired, but the guy was too fast. Romero shook himself, his eyes were playing tricks. It was as if the gunman blinked out of existence, reappearing to his left where he had the partial cover. Firing resumed.
Daniel chanced another quick glance. Cold seeped through his gut as he saw the assailant drop the gun and pick up another one—a semiautomatic this time.
Not happening. Daniel fired again. This time, he didn’t miss. His bullet passed through the man’s palm, and the second weapons clattered to the floor.
The firing stopped as abruptly as it started.
He waited, wondering if the assailant was going to try to pick up the other gun despite the wound, but it stayed quiet. Daniel’s shoulders dropped, and the noises of the outside world rushed in. The wail of sirens began.
“I think he ran off,” he muttered, turning to check on the boy.
Fuck. The kid was gone. Streaks of an oily silver blue substance were left in his place.
Was it paint? It couldn’t be blood, not unless it belonged to an alien.
Dismissing the weird mess, he poked his head out. No bullets came flying at it. The gunman had gone.
Loki stumbled, holding the balled-up remains of what was once a choice cashmere sweater to his midriff. He couldn’t afford to leave a trail of fae blood while crawling up the stairs of the six-story condominium where Serin was staying.
No Jordan meant no hotels. Her former mate had always insisted on having their own space. The top floor suite of this place was an Elemental safe house, one he wasn’t supposed to know about.
Loki dragged himself up the final flight of stairs, swearing a blue streak. Damn Elementals. Why couldn’t they take quarters in places with lifts?
He knocked on the door before trying the knob with the last of his strength. It held fast. He swore under his breath.
“Hey, who’s up there?”
Loki peeked over the wrought-iron railing. A pudgy man in brown overalls was huffing up the stairs. Thinking fast, he reached for his glamour. The ripple was weak. He couldn’t hold the magic or this appearance for very long.
And I didn’t get the hair right! Serin’s hair was the most difficult thing to imitate. Loki desperately hoped this man was the super.
When the man finally reached his level, the stranger’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Oh, hello there.” He craned his neck, turning to scan the hall. “Did you see a young man up here?”
“No, I didn’t, but I’m glad you came up.” Loki summoned a weak smile. “I seem to have locked myself out. Do you have the key on you?”
Serin hid her knife in her pack as she passed the building’s super. Murmuring a polite greeting, she jogged up the stairs, wondering why he appeared surprised to see her.
She liked the man, but she didn’t want to get into another prolonged conversation about how she reminded him of his daughter and why the woman didn’t call.
Serin knew the Elementals’ inner sanctum had been breached before she got to her floor. The smell of Supe blood permeated the stairwell. A drop of it lay ominously on the floor in front of their door.
Suddenly, it didn’t matter that she’d just been a pitched battle with a ghoul. Serin was running on full blast, ready for another fight.
She reached into her bag for the Sai Alec had handed her on T’Kaeri. On impulse, she’d taken it with her, tossing it in her pack along with her gear. It wasn’t until today she realized there had been a reason.
The trident was one of a matched pair. The weapons were made of the strongest charm-infused Han Dynasty steel, and she’d always cast a covetous eye on them, wishing she could play with them.
Now the single trident would serve another purpose—with the right spell, she could track its stolen mate. It was another lead to the thief who killed Jordan.
The spell will still work, even if the Sai is covered in fae blood, she reminded herself as she pushed the door open.
Serin stopped short, taken aback at the vision behind the door. Loki was on the floor, his back to the couch. He was bleeding all over his cocoa skin—her skin.
Serin rushed to his side, crouching down to pull the bloody rags away from his stomach.
“Shit. What happened to you? And why did you take my form?” she added with a snap when she saw the wound wasn’t fatal. At least, she hoped it wasn’t.
“I needed to look like you, so your super would let me in.” Loki’s voice was weak. He was sweating, panting, as she probed his wound.
“Why do you have a bullet in you?” she asked, mystified.
“Cause I got shot,” he cried as she pulled the skin to examine the wound.
Serin closed her eyes, putting her hand over the hole in his side.
“Please tell me you know some healing spells.”
Her forehead puckered. “I do, but they’re not going to help with a bullet inside you. We have to take it out first.”
She considered calling Gia. Though she has some skill, her sister’s healing ability was better than hers. The fae shuddered and he paled, grimacing.
No, there wasn’t time. Loki was going to have make do with her skills.
“Brace yourself,” she warned him. “This is going to hurt.”
Serin parted her lips, calling on the Mother, twisting the aether with words. The long middle tip of the Sai burst into flames.
Loki started, then winced, holding his side as the movement jostled the wound. “How did you do that? You’re a water talent.”
Serin twisted her lips, examining the wound to plot her next step. “The older I get, the easier it is to borrow from my sisters. Now, hold still.”
&nbs
p; She blew out the flame, flipping the weapon over so the now-sterile tip was just over the bullet hole.
Loki held up his hands. “Wait, wait.” He panted. “I—I don’t suppose you have any fae painkillers around?”
“Do those exist?” There were plenty of drugs in the fae world, but all the ones she knew were hallucinogens and pleasure enhancers.
“Some booze then?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think my sisters keep spirits around.”
“What about Logan, the Air Elemental? She’s young and down for whatever. And her mate goes everywhere with her. He’s one of those crazy Colorado wolves. If they’ve been here, there must be something. Check the closet, please.”
Serin measured the amount of blood soaking his sweater. His pulse was growing weaker.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have time.” She patted his hand. “Brace yourself.”
“Wait.” Loki reached behind him, fishing out a flask. Wiggling his fingers, he opened it one-handed and took a big swig.
“Absinthe,” he panted before tensing. Exhaling loudly, he nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Shaking her head, Serin probed the wound with the tip of the Sai. She worked the bullet loose as Loki squirmed and swore.
Tossing it aside, she put her bare hands over the hole and began to chant. After several minutes, the flesh began to show signs of knitting together. She stopped, pulling back before his mouth and other orifices began to close too.
Relieved, she stood and helped him up. “Are you going to tell me how you got this now?”
Loki limped, settling on the couch with her help. “I thought I had a new line on Puck. He was supposed to be at Dyonisia tonight. I wanted to find him for you.”
“Loki,” she scolded. “I told you to stay out of it once that first body dropped. Puck doesn’t want to be found. He is going to extreme lengths to make sure he can’t be traced, not through you. I thought that was clear.”
“I wasn’t going to confront him, I swear. I was just going to check out the club. But I didn’t even make it to Dyonisia. I was hit down the block.”
Serin pulled a warm throw from an adjoining chair, then dropped it over Loki. “The spell is working. Rest now. You’re going to need it.”
She moved past him to the bedroom, digging in her drawers until she found a strap that accommodated both the Sai and a short blade.
“You’re going to Dyonisia without me, aren’t you?” he called after her.
Serin returned, strapping on the harness. “I am. Stay here. Heal. And please drop that glamour now. It’s creeping me out.”
“Oh. Right.” Loki sighed, a shimmer passing over him. The other Serin disappeared, leaving the male greaser in her place.
Yawning, he snuffled under the wool throw.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he whispered, his voice slurring slightly with exhaustion. “You’re never going to believe who saved me…”
10
Serin tightened her grip around the goblin’s neck, shifting her hold a bit so he could breathe and talk.
“Why are you doing this?” Kerrick wheezed, kicking his legs in the air.
They were in the back storeroom of Dionysia, the noise of their confrontation disguised by the driving beat of the latest bl0b track. “I’m your friend! Haven’t I been useful to you?”
“Once or twice in the past, you’ve provided some assistance,” she acknowledged with equanimity.
Serin wasn’t even out of breath, despite the fact the frequently flirtatious goblin outweighed her by at least two stone of muscle.
“Then why?” he asked, the pitch of his voice a hairsbreadth from a wail.
“Because I don’t have time for your—I’m-fae-so-I-can’t-answer-a-direct-question bullshit,” she said, her jaw tight. “I want to know why Loki was almost gunned down in the street outside. Nothing happens around here that you don’t know about.”
“But why the strong-arm tactics?” He coughed, tapping her hand. “I mean, I expect this from Diana—maybe Logan when she’s on her period—but you’re Water. You’re the reasonable one.”
“Period jokes? Really?” She shook him again. “Tell me another one and you’ll see how reasonable I can be.”
Serin may have been known for following the rules of engagement in their world, but that didn’t make it safe to cross her. She adjusted her grip around Kerrick’s neck, tightening it enough for his glamour to flicker. The overly groomed millennial with the perfect Van Dyke beard blinked out, revealing a pale green goblin with thin gold lips and bright pink hair.
“I wasn’t joking about you!” he protested, his expression wounded.
Serin was unmoved. “And yet, as a woman, I’m still offended. Funny how that works…” She let him drop to the ground, leaning in close before smiling.
Kerrick’s eyes widened as she let the ocean’s cold blue shine through her eyes.
“Okay, okay, but I really don’t know anything about the gun fight. Our kind doesn’t deal in human weapons!”
“Then tell me what you do know. You’ve been the caretaker of Dionysia for decades. You know who is fucking who, and which of your clients came into money, all the normal gossip that runs in an institution like this. But you also hear the little whispers about those toying with the black—the ones who flirt with the edge and the ones who jump right off it with their eyes open.”
Drawing her head back, she stared down at the goblin, her face a perfectly carved mask.
Kendrick winced. “I don’t know anything about the gun attack. That’s the truth—I swear on the covenant.”
“Oh, I believe that,” she said. “It must have caught you off guard. It certainly did Loki. But I think you felt the rumblings before that. You’re this community’s weather vane. When shit goes south in the royal court Dionysia serves as sanctuary for those too weak to face the storm on their own. You protect your own.”
Serin put him down and loosened her grip. “It’s why I’ve always liked you. But one of your people is putting profit over people. He goes by Puck and he traffics in stolen goods—artifacts that shouldn’t be out in the world. One human is already dead. Loki came close to being the first fae to die. The person responsible is someone who drinks the drafts you pour and revels with the crowd you tend.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s true that talking to me is frowned upon by your regent, but Puck is the one violating the queen’s chief edict regarding Elementals—he’s making us get involved. We both know that is the last thing she would want.”
The barkeep stepped back, rolling his shoulders as the glamour swept back over him. The human millennial returned, his eyes cast down. “I still don’t know anything about the guns, but I might’ve heard something about someone new making money off objects of powers. However, it was just a rumor. Dionysia isn’t the place for people to market those wares. My clientele doesn’t have the scratch for the high-ticket stuff.”
“Who’d you hear the rumor from?”
“An old dryad named Saz. Mind you, I don’t think he’s involved. Saz is an old barfly. He spends most of the week hugging the bar bench, nursing the same pint for hours on end. He was just repeating something he heard…and only because he’s been searching for Eldertree stools for his place for a long time.”
“All I want is a lead. Saz has nothing to fear if he’s not involved.” She bit her lip before sucking in a breath. “Thank you…and sorry for the rough handling.”
“I get worse from the Dunkers when they’ve had one too many.” Kerrick put his hand in his pockets, then kicked the floor. “Can I ask you something?”
She leaned against the shelf. “Depends on what it is.”
“Is the other rumor I heard true? Is your mate dead?”
The Supernatural world was smaller than she thought, but Serin was struck by her lack of emotion. There wasn’t a telltale shaft of pain, no tightening of her stomach. Just the coldness in her extremities that had been her constant companion since Jordan dis
appeared.
“Yes,” she said hoarsely.
“Oh. Sorry.” Kerrick rubbed the back of his head. “Hey, when this is all over—weeks or months—come back and I’ll break out a bottle of Barda Rum. I’ve been saving for a couple of centuries. It should be coming into its own now.”
Serin pushed her hair behind her ear. At least the goblin didn’t hold a grudge, but if he’d already heard the news of her mate, it would explain his willingness to forgive and forget.
“We’ll see. Are you expecting Saz tonight?”
Kerrick gestured for her to follow him to the door. That heavy bass of yet another bl0b song was making it vibrate. “If he’s not, he’ll be in tomorrow or the next day. He never stays away long.”
He swung the door open, letting in an explosion of sound. It was a bit like being hit with a rogue wave. Every part of her body reacted as if struck, until it adjusted grudgingly like someone did after leaping into the ocean.
At least it adjusted up to a point. Her bones rattled, and she shot Kerrick a pointed glance.
“It’s the new album,” he shouted over the noise. He pointed to the pub’s makeshift dance floor. An assortment of lower fae were slamming against each other to the beat. “Folks are celebrating. It’s not often one of ours makes the top of the human charts.”
Serin sighed and turned, narrowly missing being mowed down by a squat barrel-chested brownie. She corrected his course with a well-meaning shove and circled the floor, about to make her way to one of the darkened booths in the back to wait for her mark. She stopped dead when she saw Agent Romero.
He was standing at the bar talking to the relief bartender, a grizzled female centaur glamoured into the form of a voluptuous blonde.
How the hell had he gotten in here? The wards kept everyone but fae out. No shifters, no witches, and no vampires could come inside without an invitation. Elementals were the exception to fae wards, but only because the fae hadn’t figured out how to keep them out yet.
Water: The Elementals Book Three Page 8
