“I’m so out of my element.”
“You’re perfect. You’ll see.” He lowers his voice. “And as soon as all this blood type business is complete, I’ll bring you back. It’s just for a little while, and I need you.”
“Come on, princess,” Gray calls. “We’re going now.”
Much to Jonathan’s chagrin, it looks like the team decided to go with the tarp in the Corvette idea.
“It looks like we’re leaving,” I tell Finn.
“Keep me posted. Let me know everywhere they go and everything they do. I’ll have Agatha send you an email with instructions on how to file your report.”
“I thought I didn’t start for another week.”
“Looks like Gray had other plans.”
“I don’t suppose the guild will replace ruined clothing? Because my skirt is now stained with something brown and sticky.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Then there’s nothing else to say.
“Goodbye, Finn.”
I’m about to hit the end button when he says, “And Madeline?”
Sighing, I bring the phone back to my ear. “Yes?”
Gray watches me with such an impatient expression, I’m surprised he’s not tapping his foot and pointing at his watch.
“I miss you,” Finn says.
Warming instantly, I bite back a smile. “I miss you too.”
With a sigh, I slide my phone back into my purse.
“Are you taking me home now?” I ask Gray as soon as I reach him.
“No, we still have to take Richard in.”
I gesture to my wrinkled, soiled clothing. “Can I at least change first?”
A smile spreads across Gray’s face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. It’s not a particularly nice one. “No time. But here’s a little friendly advice: if you don’t want to ruin your expensive designer wear, I suggest you avoid crawling under tables in biker bars. Did you see that place? It’s filthy.”
I glare at him. “The sprite had a gun.”
“And we took care of it.” He loops his arm over my shoulders in a mock-friendly gesture, wrapping me in the scent of deodorant and man. “You were never in any danger.”
Wriggling out from under his arm, I shoot him a scathing look. “You go ahead. I’ll call a ride.”
“Sorry, princess. Just following orders. Like it or not, you’re part of the team now.”
One thing’s for sure—I certainly don’t like it.
***
Lillian opens the door as I stumble up the steps, gaping at me in horror. “Miss Madeline,” she says in her thick German accent as she clutches her hands to her ample, forty-seven-year-old bosom. “What happened to you?”
Bloody wretched Gray Tate happened to me.
I’m forty-five minutes late for dinner, my hair has fallen flat, and my feet have blisters from wearing these miserable heeled sandals all afternoon. I was at the Knights’ Guild’s downtown department for three hours as Gray and his band of merry marshals booked Richard, argued over paperwork, and flirted with the office girls. Finally, Gray told me I could leave, and then he pawned me off on a middle-aged clerk who was late for his anniversary dinner. I could hear the man’s wife hollering at him through the phone the entire way home.
“Tell Father and Mother I’m going to take a bath and then head to bed,” I tell Lillian.
The housekeeper flashes me a concerned look. “They left for Spain this afternoon.”
Oh, that’s right. Honestly, they’re gone so much, it’s hard to keep track of when they’re here and when they aren’t.
“Would you like me to bring you something to eat?” she asks, trailing after me like a worried mother hen.
I turn back, grateful. “Would you?”
“Of course.” She pats my head like I’m five. “You go clean up, and I’ll have it waiting for you by the time you’re finished.”
Whoever says good help is hard to find has never met Lillian.
Charles lifts his head when I walk through the door, and he lets out a yowl. It’s not a “welcome back” sort of greeting, nor a “it looks like you’ve had a hard day, let me cuddle on your lap” sort of meow. No, it’s a “dinner is an hour late” combined with a “you’re an awful girl” sort of chastisement.
He stretches, arching his back, and then sits at the end of the bed and scowls. His sweet, wrinkled face is the picture of displeasure, and his tail flicks back and forth like a well-balanced pendulum.
After kicking off my heels, I pad across the hardwood floor to Charles’s table by the window. One of the maids has a shining silver bowl and a can of Pedigreed Perfection in Salmon and Caviar waiting. I insist that I’m the only one who actually feeds Charles, but tonight I wish someone had ignored my decree and just fed the monster.
After dumping the gelatinous, meaty blob into Charles’s bowl, I pull off my clothes, tossing them on the floor, and draw a hot bath with lavender bath salts. I’m just sinking into the water when there’s a knock at the door.
“You’re a life saver, Lillian. Just leave it by the bed,” I call as the water comes up to my neck and steam wafts around my face.
“You have a visitor, Miss Madeline,” Lillian says.
My shoulders stiffen. “Who is it?”
“Tall, brown hair, built like a male underwear model.” She pauses. “He visited you earlier.”
I clench my eyes shut, silently groaning, and dunk my head under the water.
“Send him away,” I say after I come back up. “Tell him I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“Miss Madeline, if a man has a stomach you can wash clothes on, and he’s interested in you, you don’t show him the door.”
I roll my eyes. “You do if he’s this man.”
She lets out a dramatic sigh that’s loud enough to hear through the closed door. “Yes, miss.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t return.
I lose track of how long I stay in the bath, but by the time I step out, the water is on the cool side of lukewarm, and the pads of my fingers are wrinkled. I towel off, toss on a robe, and run a fat comb through my sopping wet hair as I step into my bedroom. And then I come to an abrupt stop.
“What are you doing here?” I demand when I find Gray in the reading chair by the fireplace. My cat sits on the arm of the chair, glaring at him. Gray is angled back, as far away from Charles as he can get without vacating his seat.
Gray glances at me briefly before returning his gaze to my cat. “What is that?”
I finish with the comb and toss it on my bed. “That is a Sphynx.”
“It looks like a goblin.”
“He’s hypoallergenic.”
“Your hypoallergenic goblin is wearing a sweater.”
Angry, low-pitched noises come from Charles’s throat, worrying me. Before he can launch himself, claws-first, at Gray’s face, I pick the cat up, running a hand down his back to soothe him.
“Of course he’s wearing a sweater,” I say. “He doesn’t have fur. How would you like to walk around naked?”
A wicked look crosses Gray’s face, and it appears he’s about to say something he shouldn’t. Lucky for him, he swallows the words.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, ready to get to the point. This is the second time the man has barged into my bedroom, and I don’t want to make him think he’s welcome to do it a third.
“Lillian let me in.”
I’m sure she did.
I stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“It just so happens that after you left, we were given another assignment. We’re needed in Trinidad ASAP.”
Trinidad, Colorado is one of those historic towns that fell into a crumbling, graffiti-covered state of disrepair. Its crime rate and poverty levels are above average, and its schools are subpar. Let’s just say it’s not on my top ten places to visit before I die.
“Have a good trip.” Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.
He chuckles darkly. “You’re
coming with us.”
“Hmmm.” I set Charles on the bed and tap my pursed lips. “No.”
“It’s not a request, princess.”
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
Gray raises an eyebrow, obviously pleased to get under my skin. I mentally smooth my ruffled feathers and take a calming breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a cordial tone, the kind we practiced at Briarwood. “I cannot accompany you to Trinidad, though I hope you have a delightful time.”
Undaunted, Gray stands and begins poking through my dresser. “We’re leaving tonight, so you need to pack now.” He glances back. “And you should probably throw on some clothes.”
I gape at him, too stunned by his audacity to care that he’s shuffling through my underwear drawer.
“Surely you have a duffel bag somewhere.” He yanks open the closet. Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head, almost like he’s seen a sight that will haunt him forever. “How many shoes does a girl need?”
“You know, for a Wolf, you’re a bit of a boar.”
He freezes and turns on his heel slowly. “How do you know I’m a Wolf?”
Oops.
Okay, so it wasn’t a complete accident. But I do wish I could take it back.
I give him a one-shouldered shrug. “I guessed.”
“You guessed.”
Another shrug.
He walks across the room, eating the space between us with long strides. My instincts tell me to retreat, but my pride has me standing my ground, tilting my chin into the air to show him he can’t intimidate me. Gray steps into my space, a drill sergeant looking down at a new trainee.
“Let’s get something straight,” he says, his eyes dark and his voice hard. “I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. And I don’t think your spoiled rich girl routine is cute. You are a thorn in my side, and I will be counting the days until I can be free of you. But you are in my care for six months, and you will do as I say.”
Tilting my chin even higher, I boldly meet his gaze. “Since we’re being so honest, I’ll speak my peace as well. I can take care of myself, and I am not on your team—I am there to record every mistake you make. Every single time you step out of line, I will document it. And though fifteen minutes ago, I would have been happy to let you go about your business, staying out of it as much as possible, now I have no stronger desire than to make your life utterly miserable. Capiche?”
His eyes flash. “Get dressed. Get packed.” His low words tickle my temple. “And meet me in the foyer in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” I say in a condescending tone that would probably get me punched if I were a man.
Gray stalks toward the door and throws it open. Before he goes down the hall, he looks back. “I mean it, princess. Get a move on it. I’m not leaving without you—even if that means I have to dress you myself and toss you over my shoulder.”
Then, like the mature, grown man he is, he slams the door behind him.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Hey, Maddie,” Eric says as soon as he spots me. “Ready for a road trip?”
No one, no one, calls me Maddie. But I kind of like Eric—or at least I dislike him a little less than the others—and since he’s the image of a living, breathing Titan, I let him get away with it.
I wrinkle my nose. “I suppose.”
“What’s in the case?” He leans down to take a peek at Charles.
“My cat.”
As if sensing we’re talking about him, Charles lets out an angry yowl. He’s even less pleased about the impromptu trip than I am.
“Absolutely no cats in the Hummer,” Jonathan says from several yards away, sounding about as surly as a person can. “I’ve already got a blood stain to deal with in the ‘Vette. The last thing I need is hair in here.”
Eric flashes me a crooked grin. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Jonathan turns my way. “Now you listen. I will not—” he begins and then looks in the crate and proceeds to use several choice words not fit for civilized conversation. “What is that?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s a cat.”
Why do they have so much trouble with the concept?
“My mother has cats—five of them.” He pulls a disgusted face. “That thing is not a cat. And it’s not going with us.”
“Then I suppose I won’t be able to join you either. You see, where I go, Charles goes.” Sighing, I set the carrier at my feet. “It’s a shame too, as I was so looking forward to it. Oh, well. Perhaps next time.”
“Put the cat in the backseat and shut up,” Gray barks, already tossing my suitcases—all three of them—into the back.
Jonathan flashes him an angry look, and then he turns back to me. “It stays in its crate, you understand?”
“Perfectly.” I smile, letting him know that I won, and I know it.
He points a finger at me, a silent warning, and stalks to the driver’s side of the SUV.
“Look at you, already making friends,” Eric says from my side.
I meet his eyes. “I like you well enough.”
His eyebrows tilt suggestively, and he takes a step closer. “Oh yeah? How much?”
Laughing, I step into the backseat, placing Charles in the middle. The cat continues to make low noises, and I wonder if I should warn the men that he isn’t a fan of travel. He’ll likely make a racket the entire time we’re in the car.
I pat the carrier and smile to myself.
Outside, the three argue about seating arrangements. Eric apparently can’t sit in the back because his legs are too long, and Gray’s not a lot shorter. Jonathan won’t sit in the back because it’s his vehicle, and damn it, he’s driving.
Oh, and no one wants to sit next to the devil cat.
Five minutes later, Jonathan tosses open the back door. “Trade places with your beast. I don’t want to listen to it the entire time.”
“Lost the proverbial coin toss, did you?”
He pauses, and a slow smile builds on his face. He leans across the car, crawling half over the cat crate, and pins me with his eyes. He’s crazy handsome—the kind of man that makes a girl all weak and melty. Even though I have Finn, I’m not entirely immune to his dark eyes, black hair, and warm skin.
As if reading my mind, his eyes narrow into questioning slits. Shaking his head, he says, “I’m onto you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your magic moves in gray waves. You’re a Fox.”
Thief, criminal, con-artist.
I study him for a moment, and then, truly curious, I ask, “Why haven’t you told Gray?”
He backs up ever so slightly. “Because your magic feels…different. Less sinister.”
I give him a slow smile. “Less? Not completely void of sinister intent…but less so?”
“And I figure Finn already knows, considering you had to register your blood with the Royal Guild just like everyone else. He must have had some purpose for choosing you.”
Even though Jonathan totally avoids my question, I let it slide. “Yes, Finn knows.”
The knight is still leaning over Charles’s crate, his face near mine. This close, I can see the brown in his eyes. They’re dark chocolate, almost as dark as his black brows and hair.
“You know, when I saw the gray swirl of your magic, at first, I mistook it for silver and worried you were a Wolf. I thought you and Gray would tear each other apart, each of you attempting to claw your way to the top of the team.” He gives me a smirk. “Now I know you’re simply going to be the bane of his existence.”
The Wolf and Fox factions are extremely similar. Foxes tend to charm people in order to swindle them; Wolves are naturally alluring. Wolves tend to give their all for the greater good. Foxes tend to speak silver-tongued lies and rob you blind. Either way, people tend to like us. You know, until they don’t.
And for obvious reasons, the two factions don’t usually get along.
Not that all those in the Fox faction are criminals. No. Only about eighty percent. The rest head up quasi-legitimate pyramid schemes, create direct sales businesses, and invest in and manage boy bands.
That aside, I’m quite confident that most of the magical miscreants Gray’s team goes after are Foxes. People from other factions can go rogue, of course. But it’s not nearly as common.
And the other magical species? The pixies, the sprites, the trolls? Almost all of them are evil, and they make the perfect henchmen. That’s why when you find a sprite causing trouble, there’s almost always a Fox behind it.
Throughout the years, the Knights’ Guild has done its best to snuff out the evil that slipped into this realm before the thresholds were destroyed, but it’s a nearly impossible task. Like roaches, they disappear into their holes and reappear later, doubled in numbers. There are far fewer than there were in the middle ages, when reports of dragons, unicorns, and all other manner of magical beings were everyday occurrences in most parts of the world. But they’re still here—the ones who survived have just gotten better at hiding.
However, none of this has really concerned me before. Other than attending magical academies and Briarwood, I’ve lived a rather human life. Father figured it was best for me to learn the magical basics but suppress my natural abilities, and that’s what I’ve done.
Gray abruptly opens my door, making me jump back in my seat. I didn’t realize I was leaning toward Jonathan. Gray narrows his eyes when he sees Jonathan sit back as well. Then, without questioning us, he offers me a silver…thing. Like a remote or an ancient, clunky cell phone.
I look at it, then move my eyes back to his. “Am I supposed to know what this is?”
Gray’s nostrils flare ever so slightly as he breathes in through his nose. “It’s a Taser.”
Startled, I lean away from it. “Okay.”
“Take it,” he says as he jiggles it a couple times.
“No, thanks.” I cross my arms, just in case he decides it would be fun to shove it in my hand.
“Our next target is a troll,” Jonathan informs me. “You really should have something to defend yourself.”
Guild of Secrets Page 4
