“Trust me. I know it’s her.”
“And the man?”
“I saw them leaving a restaurant together. Half an hour later, Ramaron Marlow emerged. I’m absolutely confident that I have identified the mercenaries.”
“Even so, this time we can’t play as loose as usual.” He closed his notebook and shoved it to the other side of his desk. “I will wait for my intelligence.” He pulled out his Earth-based cell phone and called the second number in his small list of contacts.
“Hello?”
“This is Dunsman.”
The other line fell silent for a moment. “Good evening.”
“Have you learned anything yet?”
“No, sir. I spent a greater part of the day doing research, but tomorrow I may not have as much time. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Don’t worry about it. We think the mercenaries may have started moving. That means Marlow is here and watching me. We must maintain as much discrepancy as possible.”
“Leave it to me.” The other line cut off.
“Well?” The woman standing behind Nerilis Dunsman prompted.
He shook his head. “We may still have to wait a couple more days.”
The woman pulled off her sunglasses, cleaning them on her military uniform. “I’m going, then. Call me if you have my payment.” Nerilis was always good for his payments. Twice a month, like the clockwork surrounding him, he deposited $5,000 into her account. A girl had to pay for her fun somehow. Working for the most wanted criminal in the galaxy was a good way.
She disappeared into the shadows, leaving Dunsman to silence.
He bent down and picked up the butterfly-shaped brooch he dropped earlier. Inside was a small tousle of black hair, as smooth as marble and as precious as the day he took it from the High Priestess of the Void two millennia before.
Not many lovers had that kind of post-mortem keepsake. He often wondered if, had he died first, Joiya Lerenan would be as keen to steal this memento from him? It was the sort of question he wrote into another small notebook he kept tucked in his breast pocket, for the rare occasion he could speak to the most powerful woman in the universe.
Until then, he’d wait for further reports from their damned daughter.
SIX
“I think the commands would find your cooking useful in the chemical warfare department.”
Danielle slammed her tray of burnt cookies on the counter. “If you’re Martha Stewart, then why don’t you tell me what I’m doing wrong?”
“Like I know.” Troy leaned against the counter. “Although I have a feeling you’ve never received a real cooking lesson in your life.”
Danielle considered the darkened edges of her chocolate-chip cookies. “Maybe I should give them to the captain as a token of my appreciation.”
“Be careful what you wish for. You might poison her, and then they’ll discover her crazy-gay virus during the autopsy. The game would be up for all of us!” Troy rinsed his fingers off in the kitchen sink. “The department would have to kill you, while the rest of us are sterilized by the military out of fear of spreading crazy-gay.”
“I’ll be Typhoid Mary, but gayer.”
Troy grabbed a paper towel. “On a somewhat related but completely different topic, whatever did you do last night? You blew me off for some dinner date and were still by yourself when I called later. Was the date really that bad?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Danielle filled the sink with their bowls and other cooking utensils. She swerved the faucet to the left and let hot water mix with the leftover dough before shutting it off again. “I decided to waste my Saturday night playing with my photo album instead.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “God, not that thing. I’m gonna trash and burn it for you one of these days. C’mon, now, forget that stupid shithead and let’s clean up this mess. I’ll cheer you up with a matinee later.”
“I don’t need cheering up.” Danielle stole Troy’s towel and wiped her hands on it. “I feel fine, thanks. By the way… you’re going to hate me for asking, but have you seen her lately?”
“Are you still pining for her? She dumped your gay ass a year ago, and you expect me to play the nasty best friend and drill her for every little detail of her life? Yeah, saw her at the post office the other day. She completely ignored me.”
Danielle threw the towel in the garbage. Troy and ex-girlfriend Ally had gotten along well, the three of them not opposed to sharing a movie or meal together. “Did she look okay?”
“Like an angel… from hell.”
“Troy.”
“What? Woman looked like the unhappiest specimen in the world. Is that what you want to hear instead?”
Danielle stared at the tray of burnt cookies on the counter as Troy went on about the bitter countenance of her ex-girlfriend. While she had no intention of trying to communicate with Ally again, her feelings had yet to move on. “Maybe she’s failing school or something.”
Troy was interrupted by a knocking on the front door. Danielle abandoned her post at the counter.
“Just a sec…” she swung the door open.
Out in the hallway stood Devon. “Uh, hi,” he mumbled.
Danielle rubbed her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” She closed the door behind her. “How did you find out where I live? Are you stalking me now?”
“What? No!” Devon took a step back as Danielle loomed over him. “Your address is in the phone book. Please. A little more respect?”
“Fine. Get in here.” Danielle clasped him by the tattooed-wrist and pulled him into her apartment, his body not prepared for the brutish strength exhibited.
Troy observed them from the kitchen. “What’s this, now? Got yourself a new male BFF, girl? He better be gayer than me if some white boy is replacing my melanin-filled ass.”
“More like an annoying acquaintance,” Danielle said.
“New boyfriend? Have you abandoned the ladies already and decided to give men another shot?”
Devon shirked Danielle’s hold on his shoulder. “Maybe I should come back some other time. Seems I’ve walked in on some other conversation.”
“Spare the boy, Danny-Lynn. He looks like he’s about to collapse from your magnanimous beauty.”
Devon turned toward Troy. “I’m Devon. Don’t believe we’ve met before.”
“True. Where the hell did you meet this guy?”
Danielle abandoned Devon in the living area. “Remember that meeting I blew you off for last night? Yeah, he was there. That’s all you need to know.” No fucking way was Danielle getting into more than that. Troy already thought she was crazy from the few things he knew about her childhood and associated mental health. Today was not a good day for talking about sorcerers and madmen trying to destroy the world.
“That so?” Troy held up one of the blackened cookies. “Want a cookie?”
“No, thanks.” Devon balked at the hideous cookie. Its charcoal-colored edges deteriorated by the second. “Can I talk to you in private?” he muttered toward Danielle.
“Oh my God, he’s pregnant. Danielle, did you knock him up?”
“Shut up.” She sent him a cursory glance to reiterate her point. “Could you leave us alone for a couple of seconds?”
“Yeah, sure, why not? I have to go to the bathroom anyway.”
Danielle waited until Troy was gone before turning toward her guest again. “All right, he’s gone. What do you want?”
“You’re going to think I’m nuts, but…”
“I already think you’re nuts, stalker.”
Devon furrowed his thin brows. “Anyway, I think I found one of those things. You know. A… Relic…”
Danielle’s next few words were thrown back down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. It took her a few seconds before she could lift a finger in confusion. “Wait… what?”
Both of their voices dropped to a whisper. “I think so. Was reading the free paper we get from my school this morning and cam
e across a picture of that philanthropist who buys stolen artifacts and donates them back to museums and charities. Do you have a copy?”
“Sunday paper?” That’s what he meant, right? “On the coffee table.” Although the sections of the paper were strewn about as if it were thoroughly read, Danielle only perused the front page before Troy showed up with a bag of chocolate chips in his hand.
She shuffled through the papers before picking up the page with the picture of an older woman with short gray hair and a blue blouse. Her smile toward the camera was blinded by the amount of diamonds adorning her hands and neck. The caption read, “Helen Frederick shows off her latest donations.” It referred to the diamond crucifix around her neck, a once-beloved artifact crafted over a hundred years before, believed to be lost during the great quake of 1904. It had later turned up halfway around the world in a private collection. Mrs. Frederick had recently acquired the “found” piece and was donating it to a local museum as part of the city’s heritage.
“What makes you think this is relevant?”
“Hold your tattoo up to the picture.”
Danielle folded the paper beneath her arm before placing her wrist upon the picture. According to Marlow, something should have happened if this was a genuine Relic.
“Well, mine reacted earlier.” Devon pulled the paper out of Danielle’s hand. “I was reading our paper with my girlfriend. I think the actual skin beneath whatever ink this is may be blacker than black, because it fucking hurt. Anyway,” he showed Danielle some pertinent information in the article, “it says here the necklace will be on display at a gallery today. Do you think we should go?”
“I still don’t know what to think about all of this.” First of all, Devon insisted on existing. The fact he showed up that day talking about this shit did not help her ability to forget about it.
“According to this, the gallery event is free until seven. Even I can afford that much.”
Troy emerged and grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “Sorry to run out, hon, but I got a call from my mom and she says my sister’s in the hospital again. I’ll call you later.” He darted out of the apartment, slamming Danielle’s front door behind him.
“Sounds serious,” Devon put the paper back down. “Hope she’s all right.”
“She has bad asthma. It happens every few months.” Cookie sheets teetered on Danielle’s counters. She rushed into the kitchen to catch the first one before it could spill a horrid mess on the floor. “We’ll take my car, I guess.”
“It has to be yours. I don’t even have a license yet.”
Danielle stopped cleaning. “Seriously? How the hell did you get here?”
He shrugged. “Bus.”
Danielle wedged her body into her jacket, the black fabric covering her white tank top for a more appropriate look in public. Her car keys disappeared into her hand from their spot next to the front door. After gesturing for Devon to join her in the hallway, she locked her front door and marched to the elevator. Devon kept a respectable distance between them – he hadn’t forgotten how hard she could shove if she felt up to it.
***
For a Sunday afternoon, traffic was not as bad as either of them imagined. Danielle weaved between the other cars and advanced down the roadways without rude fingers from other drivers. “I hate driving on Sundays,” she said more than once. “People act like asshats, especially after church gets out.”
As they fell into silence again, Devon called Alicia to let her know that he probably would not be home for dinner that night. “Something came up that I have to take care of… for school. Yes, school. Do you want me to graduate or not? Yes, I’m in a car. It’s Clyde’s car. Yes, I’ll be home in a while. Okay? Okay. See you later. Love you.”
“School, huh?”
Devon put his phone away. “I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, now could I?”
“Kinda surprised you haven’t told her.” Danielle put her foot on the brake as they approached a red light. “If I had somebody, I would’ve told them by now.”
“I figure she’s got enough to worry about. Besides… I somewhat doubt that she would believe me.”
“Your relationship that bad?”
“Hey.”
“What?” They lurched forward once the light turned green. “Don’t you think she should be willing to believe you?”
Devon snorted into the back of his hand. If only she had any idea what Alicia was like. No one was more logical – if not steeped in Baptist upbringing – and more likely to brush off the fantastical than Alicia Greene. If Devon told her anything about what had happened recently, her first reaction would be to chew him out for smoking too much pot.
Danielle, on the other hand, withheld a laugh. Had it been a year before, one of the first things she would have done was tell Ally about this. To an extent, anyway. But, on second thought, Marlow had said something about trying to keep other people from finding out.
“Damn,” she said. “I made a wrong turn a few blocks back.”
The car swerved into an empty parking lot. Danielle spent more than a few seconds reorienting her mental compass because she was too lazy – and too proud – to get out her cell phone and its crappy map.
“I think somebody’s watching us.”
On the other end of the parking lot sat another black car. Inside, a single figure, face shielded with a pair of sunglasses, stared back. When the figure realized that Devon and Danielle were staring at them, the ignition started.
The voyeur quickly pulled out of the otherwise empty lot.
“What was that about?” Shivers tickled Danielle’s spine. “Creepy.”
“Let’s get going.”
Danielle’s car bounced over the small hill spilling back out into the road. Her nerves shook as she thought back to the stoic figure sitting in a dark car in an empty parking lot.
After a few more minutes of driving around downtown, Devon spotted the gallery. Parallel parking would have to do. So would a damned parking meter hiding behind a SUV, just in case Danielle felt like getting an expensive ticket because she couldn’t see anything.
“Why don’t you stay here while I stake out the entrance?” Devon slipped out of his seat belt. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Not in the mood to argue, Danielle stayed in the car and waited until Devon disappeared into a crowd of pedestrians. A few of them stopped to check out the advertisements for the exhibit, but most were content to keep walking without any regard for art.
As attached as Danielle was to her car, she was even more curious about what the hell went on beyond it. Unfortunately, the moment Danielle considered acting on her own, fate intervened.
This time in the form of Devon’s ringing cell phone. Because of course it had slipped out of his pocket and ended up on her passenger seat.
At first, Danielle was keen on ignoring it. But either Devon was daft at setting up voicemail or the caller was that determined to get through, for the phone continued to ring. Danielle picked up the phone, more annoyed by the monotonous tune than anything else.
She flipped the clamshell open. “Hello?”
A pregnant pause filled the line before a decisive click echoed in her ear.
“Bastard.” She stared at the number on the screen. All it revealed was the name The Girlfriend. “Excuse me. Bitch.”
Devon returned. “What are you doing?”
A cheesy smile crossed Danielle’s face. “Uh… it rang? It was your girlfriend?”
“What did she say?”
“She hung up the moment she heard my darling feminine voice.”
Devon collapsed into the seat, complexion whitening. “Damnit, she’s going to kill me. Probably thinks I’m coming home late because I’m boning someone else.”
“So, what’s going on inside?”
“A bunch of rich people patting themselves on the back. It’s like they don’t even get the irony of a cross made from expensive diamonds.”
“Did th
e thing go off?”
“You mean this?” Devon held up his right wrist. “No.”
Danielle pursed her lips.
“I swear I felt it this morning, you know? God. Maybe I’ve got carpal tunnel. I work on computers all day and play the guitar. Oh, and the video games. Yeah, it’s probably me, all right. Even so…”
“What?”
“We’ve got these tattoos that we can’t wash off. We definitely met a man who is either crazy or telling us the truth. What if he’s telling us the truth, and we’re just too fucked up to get the job done?”
Danielle chortled. “That would explain how we’ve apparently failed ninety-eight times.”
“Ninety-seven.”
“Whatever.”
“Man… maybe we should just go. I’m sorry for interrupting your day with your friend.”
“Don’t worry about it. Worry more about your girlfriend, I guess. I’ll drop you off.”
“Thanks. I…”
Danielle sat straight up in her seat and stared out the windshield as if an explosion had been set off.
“What is it?”
She flicked her finger up. “It’s our stalker.”
“Who?”
“That creep who was following us earlier.”
They beheld a larger black car still occupied by the motionless zombielike figure with shielded eyes.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“We could go over and say hello.”
“Probably not a good idea.”
The figure started up the car and drove away. The last thing either Devon or Danielle saw was brand new tags.
“Damn. What if…” Devon didn’t want to say it. Danielle would think he was nuts. “What if that person is working for that bad dude?”
Danielle changed gears. “I can’t take this shit right now. We’re going back. I still need to think about this. Besides…” Danielle did not finish her thought. She pulled out of her parking spot and entered the fray of traffic, making a point to go in the opposite direction of the other car that had been following them.
Rebirth (Cross Book 1) Page 7
