The Company of Shadows (The Company #1)

by Olsen, Lisa

  “I’m passing through on my way to a job in Sacramento.”

  That meant someone wouldn’t live to see the end of the week; Rikard was nothing if not thorough. “Sacramento? Shit, isn’t that punishment enough? Might as well leave ‘em be,” Ethan joked, but he couldn’t shake the thought that Rikard was there for more than a social call. They’d been friendly enough in the past, but not enough to warrant his going out of his way for a visit.

  “You know that’s not an option.” Rikard’s eyes narrowed.

  “Jesus, lighten up, man. It was a joke. Do you want a beer or something?” He pulled open the fridge, relishing the blast of cold.

  “Sure, I’ll take a cold one.” Holding up his hand, he deftly caught the can of beer Ethan tossed across the kitchen. “I heard about your trouble the other night.”

  Just what he’d been afraid of. “I’m surprised they bothered to tell you about it. I’ve got things under control.”

  “Letting him slip through your fingers, leaving a body behind like that… it’s sloppy.” Rikard shook his head. “It brings up the question, what else have you been sloppy about?”

  The menace was there despite the mild tone, but Ethan let it roll off his back. “I had to get out of there, I was hurt.”

  “Bad?”

  “Bad enough.”

  “Like Cairo?”

  “About that, yeah.”

  Rikard’s brows came up as he considered that. “In that case, you did better than I would have thought.”

  Satisfied he’d passed the informal interrogation, Ethan poured himself a glass of iced tea and shut the fridge. “How long are you going to be in town?”

  “I'm headed out tonight. I thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat at that taco place around here. Is it still open?”

  “Yeah, tacos, that’s cool,” Ethan nodded. “I’m pretty sure they’re still open.” Anything to get him out of the apartment with Cady hiding in the closet before the shit hit the fan.

  “Or are you already set?” Rikard lifted the lid off of Cady’s dish, a single brow poised in question. “Soup? I’ve never known you to cook before.”

  “That’s not cooking, it's instant noodles. A child could do it.”

  “But a child didn't make this, did they?” Rikard leaned over to inhale deeply over the steaming dish. Chunks of chopped vegetables floated above the noodles and the smell of spicy herbs wafted in the air.

  “A neighbor brought it over,” Ethan answered truthfully.

  “Making friends, are we?”

  His tone spoke volumes, and Ethan was quick to downplay the food’s significance. “It’s a nice little old lady, she leaves me cookies every now and again. She saw me in the elevator the other night after the brawl. I was all sweaty, I said I had the flu, this was her way of helping.”

  “That’s sweet.” Rikard fished a carrot out of the soup with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. “Are you sure she’s what she says she is?”

  “Give me some credit, will you?” Ethan scowled deeply. “I've been doing this a long time.”

  “I’m just busting your balls,” Rikard grinned, draining the rest of his beer in one long gulp. “Damn, you’re twitchy.”

  “Getting stabbed will do that to a guy,” he muttered, shoulders relaxing. An offer of another beer was accepted, and they fell into familiar shop talk then. Ethan was conscious of the extra pair of ears in the room the whole time, but there was little he could do about it. When Rikard asked to see the sketches he’d drawn of the subject’s victims, he gladly steered him into his office. As he passed by, Ethan noticed the closet door stood ajar by about a half inch, and firmly pressed it shut. What the hell was she thinking?

  Eventually, he got rid of Rikard, promising to go out for beers the next time he passed through town. Ethan waited by the door, waiting until he heard the man’s footsteps on the stairs. Rikard never took the elevator, it was a personal quirk of his.

  Ready to read Cady the riot act for opening the door when she was supposed to be hiding, he threw open the closet door, puzzled to find her crouched behind a long duster, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “What are you doing?” Her eyes popped open, and Cady lunged for the open doorway, pushing past him with a great gasping breath. “I told you to keep the door shut.”

  “I needed the air,” she said, pacing in a slow circle, shaking her hands like she was trying to fling off something sticky.

  “That’s ridiculous, there was plenty of air in there.”

  “I don’t like small, enclosed places.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” That explained it, and Ethan felt bad about shoving her in there, but how could he have known? “It was for the best though.”

  “Easy for you to say, you weren’t the one in the closet,” she muttered, helping herself to a glass of water. “Who was that guy?”

  “A… friend.” The word wasn’t quite right, but Rikard was the closest thing to a friend that Ethan had in the Company.

  “He’s like you?”

  “Like me… what makes you say that?” Ethan frowned, not sure he understood the connotation.

  “The tattoos.”

  Shit. Even from inside the closet Cady saw too much. “No, he’s not like me.” Ethan took the empty glass from her hands, washing it out of habit. “Well… he is, but he isn’t. If you ever see him coming, you look the other way, you got me?” He looked up to catch her eye, but she’d wandered into his office. Shit. When had his day spiraled so out of control?

  The office was sparsely furnished, a metal desk painted a scuffed brown, a rolling chair, and a small weight bench tucked into the corner. A large map of the city dominated one wall, a series of colored pins tracking his progress, past and present. What drew the eye were the sketches covering the walls. Bold smears of charcoal, delicate pencil strokes; a study in black, white and shades of gray.

  Women’s faces dominated -- old, young, drawn with varying expression ranging from scorn to a vacant stupor. One feature seemed to tie them together, they all had long hair. Scattered among the portraits were grisly scenes. The same faces pulled into misshapen masks of pain. Pools of blood matted the long, flowing hair, their eyes staring sightlessly, injuries grotesquely rendered down to the last horrific detail.

  “What is all this stuff? Did you draw these?” Cady asked, picking up one of the sketches from the desk. Ethan took the drawing from her hands, even though there was no point when there were so many covering the walls. “Who are these girls?” she pressed when he didn’t answer.

  “Victims.”

  “Victims of that guy? The gallery owner?” Her eyes widened even as his narrowed.

  “I thought you didn’t know him?”

  “I don’t, I looked him up on the net. You’re saying he killed all of these women?”

  “No, not all of them. Not him directly.”

  “But definitely some of them?”

  “Yes, definitely some of them.” Ethan’s gaze roamed over the faces, deep regret tingeing his voice. That was why he kept them up, a reminder of those he’d failed.

  “Wait... this looks familiar.” Cady picked up another drawing. Long dark hair cascaded over narrow shoulders, the smile on her lips hesitant, like she was afraid to laugh at the joke. “This is Penny.”

  “This is… you shouldn’t be in here.” He reached for the sketch, but she pulled it away.

  “No, I think it’s time you told me what’s going on here. You owe me that, at least.”

  “You’re right, I do owe you.” Ethan let out a long breath, taking in the determination of her jaw and the fire in her eyes. He had to tell her something. Maybe he could get away with a partial truth. “What do you know about murder?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  What did she know about murder? Cady would have laughed if not for the grim look in his eye. “I know about as much as anyone who watches prime time television. I know that the cops would have a field day with this room, especially the crime scene sketches. Th
at’s what these are, right? Crime scenes?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “But you’re not a cop.”

  “Not exactly, I work for a private organization.”

  “Like a private eye?”

  “Something like that.”

  Another evasive answer, but she sensed they were moving closer to the truth. “The guy who attacked me, tell me how he fits into all of this.”

  “The man who picked up you and your friend was part of a cult. They're attacking women that meet certain criteria.”

  “What kind of criteria?”

  “The long hair for one, it’s a constant factor.”

  Cady’s eyes swept over the sea of faces, he was right, each one did have long hair. “What else?”

  “Virgins, if they can get them.”

  “I guess I should be glad that ship has sailed, not that it did me any good, come to think of it,” she murmured. “So they like hairy virgins, it seems like comic book stores should be full of them. Or do they take girls only?” There were a few men sprinkled among the women, but more the exception than the rule.

  “They’ll take anyone that captures his interest, but he tends to prefer women.”

  “He who? Is there a ringleader to this cult?”

  “Ah… yes, I guess there is.”

  He didn’t sound so sure, and Cady called him on it, sensing he was holding back. “You guess there is? Don’t you know?”

  “They’re very secretive. I’ve been studying them a long time, and unfortunately, most of the information I can get is more about tracking their actions and less about the people involved.”

  “How come you have a picture of Penny?”

  His mouth opened and closed without answering, and Cady knew he was about to lie to her. “I got a tip that she might be in danger.”

  “A tip from who?”

  “A reliable source.”

  A reliable source, my ass… He was holding out on her. “How could they possibly know she might be in danger? And how did you know where to find her? Did you follow Penny to Inferno that night? If she was the one in danger, why am I the one he snatched off the street?” Ethan blinked at her rapid fire questions, looking like he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room. “Just level with me for Pete’s sake, would you?” she pleaded, thrusting the drawing of her friend into his hands.

  “A psychic told me she’d be there. He said she’d be his next target.”

  She hadn’t expected him to say that, and her eyes narrowed in skepticism. “You believe in that stuff?”

  “It got me there, didn’t it?”

  “But Penny wasn’t the one in danger.”

  “She would have been if you hadn’t kept her from leaving with the guy.”

  He had a point there. If she hadn’t stopped Penny, there might have been another grisly drawing tacked up to the wall next to her picture. “How come the psychic can’t tell you who the cult members are?”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Sounds awfully convenient to me.”

  “There’s nothing convenient about how it works, trust me,” he muttered.

  “What do they want, this cult? Why are they killing these women?”

  “To feed a demon.”

  Cady was about to laugh, but she could see he was dead serious. “A demon,” she repeated. “So the cult offers the poor girl up to the demon, but when he doesn’t show… they cut her up anyway?”

  “It’s not a literal feeding. The belief is that the demon feeds on the energy released in killing the victims in a certain way.”

  In a certain way -- a bland way of expressing the carnage caught so vividly on the page in the crime scene sketches. It was enough to turn her stomach. “How long have they been getting away with this?”

  “For years and years.” Ethan wiped a hand across his weary brow. “Every time we stamp out one of the bastards, another one crops up somewhere else.”

  “Then that’s what you meant, when you said it’s not over? There are other members of this cult picking up where Claudio left off?”

  “Yep, pretty much.”

  “And so you have all this stuff because you’re trying to track the cult down.”

  “That’s what I do, yes.”

  “How come you haven’t gone to the cops with any of this?”

  “Tell the police that I’m tracking down a demon worshiping cult?” he snorted. “They’d lock me up instead.”

  “Why not? There are plenty of sickos out there in the world. Besides, you’re not telling them that demons are killing the victims, just about people who’ve gone off their rocker.”

  “Regular police aren’t equipped to deal with this.”

  “But you are,” she deadpanned. “With your rusty knife and the stabbing yourself in the hand?” Unable to drop the belief that she was only getting half truths, she shook her head.

  “These people are superstitious. I try to use that against them, that’s all. If reciting a few mumbo jumbo words gives me an opening to take them down, I’ll use it.”

  “Yeah, but… what about that guy who came to see you? Rikard? What’s his connection to all of this? What private company would have you tracking down a satanic cult?”

  “Forget you ever heard about the Company.” His expression darkened and she took a step backwards. A struggle took place on his face then, the flash of anger giving way to frustration and possibly worry. His voice was softer when he spoke again, the edge blurred with concern. “I mean it, Cady. For your own protection. In fact, you should forget about everything I told you here. Just be glad your part in it is over. As for me, I should get back to work. I’ve lost my lead on him, I’m completely in the dark as to where he'll strike next.”

  Guilt flooded through her. “I’m sorry you lost your link to them because of me.”

  “I’m not, I’m glad you’re safe,” he replied, just as surprised to say it as she was to hear it.

  “Well… let's go through it all again. Maybe we'll turn up something you missed?”

  Ethan held up a hand. “There is no we, not where the hunt is concerned.”

  “I know I’m not a trained investigator, but maybe a fresh pair of eyes could give you a new perspective?”

  “No, thank you.” Placing a firm hand to the small of her back, he steered her out of the office, locking the door behind them. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already told you too much.”

  “Ethan…” She was about to protest that he hadn’t told her much of anything at all, but the wild cast to his eyes had her think better of it. “Alright, fine, I’ll stop bugging you about it. I wish you’d let me help though.”

  “You’ve already helped more than you know. Speaking of which… thank you for the soup.”

  He was changing the subject, and she let him, dropping her questions for the moment. “It’s the least I can do. You should eat it before it gets cold.”

  “I’ll walk you home first.”

  She’d been hoping he would want to hang out a while longer, but Cady could respect that he had a job to do. “I’m pretty sure I can make it there on my own if you’re busy.”

  “No, I think I’d better see you home safe and sound. You never know what could be out there.”

  Was he making a joke? Cady wasn’t sure. She let him escort her out into the hallway, leaning against the scuffed, green door as she searched for something to say. “Thanks for walking me home.”

  “Thanks again for the soup.” Ethan smiled, lingering beside her.

  “Thanks again for saving my life.”

  “Thanks for patching me up.”

  “Thanks for taking care of me when I passed out.”

  “Thanks for…”

  Cady leaned up on her toes, cutting him off with a quick press of the lips because she knew he’d never make the first move. She saw him blink in surprise, but before she could rock back onto her heels, his arm circled around her waist, drawing her tight against him.
/>   It was her turn to gasp in astonishment as his lips covered hers, nothing hesitant or innocent in his kiss. Her lips parted to accept him, and a shiver of anticipation fluttered through her midsection as the kiss deepened. She tasted the longing there, felt it along the length of her body as he held her close. Her hands clutched at his shoulders to keep upright as he held her off balance, stealing the breath from her body as naked desire flared between them.

  What had happened to the awkward, almost shy guy who kept trying to hold her at arms length? She felt the pounding throb of his heart, beating as fast as hers was, and she knew he felt it too. A thrill went through her as she realized she’d been right, he was attracted to her just as much as she was to him.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?” Ian’s voice was like a blast of icy air, and Cady startled, breaking the kiss to see her brother approach, mail in hand. Ethan let go of her like a hot potato, clearing his voice uncomfortably. “You do know she’s only nineteen, right?” he smirked.

  “Like that matters,” Cady scowled as her brother shouldered his way past her to get into the apartment. From the way Ethan stiffened at her side she wasn’t so sure he felt the same though.

  “I should go,” he said shortly, already turning away from her and she grabbed a hold of his arm.

  “Wait… This doesn’t change anything, does it?”

  Ethan’s head hung low, looking at anything but at her. “I never should have done that.”

  “You didn’t. I kissed you first, remember?”

  “Not just that, I never should have let you in, in the first place.”

  Cady thought he meant more than into his apartment. “Do you always do everything you should?”

  “Yes. God, yes,” he laughed miserably. “Until you came along, anyway.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” Her knees dipped, trying to worm her way into his line of sight. Once she caught his eye she held him there, puzzled by the torment she found. What was the big deal?

  “Cady, you’re way too young to get involved with a guy like me.”

  “It’s not that much of an age difference,” she protested.