by Keri Arthur
“Would you like to come upstairs? It’s warmer, and you look cold.”
“I am.” He motioned me to precede him, the movement elegant. “Lead the way.”
I walked across to the stairs. A breeze teased my hair as I neared the top, and I remembered I hadn’t yet closed Max’s window.
I glanced over my shoulder. Luc’s eyes gleamed in the shadows, the jade depths filled with a heat that burned all the way down to my toes. But it was gone in an instant, making me wonder if I’d imagined it.
“Do you want to get out of those wet clothes? I doubt we’ve any that’ll fit you, but I can grab you a dressing gown to wear while we toss your clothes in the dryer.”
He hesitated and then shook his head. “A towel would be useful, though, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s really not.” I motioned toward the living area. “Help yourself to either whiskey or coffee. Clean cups are in the cupboard above the microwave. I’ve just got to duck upstairs to close a window.”
He nodded and walked away, leaving behind a little puddle of water at the top of the stairs.
I spun on a heel and bounded up the next set of stairs. The wind was stronger on the second floor, which was odd. I hadn’t left the window open that far—I stopped abruptly.
The air wasn’t just cold; it was filled with the scent of demon.
Six
I didn’t worry about how or why it had gotten past Mo’s spells. I simply reacted.
Three quick steps had me in Max’s room. At the very last moment, the demon sensed my approach and swung around, but by that time I was already in the air, arrowing feetfirst towards him.
He screamed and raised his talons, but the blow missed and he got no further. I hit him hard and, with a squeal that was more surprise than pain, he was flung backward, out the window and down to the ground. There was a soft but sickening crack, followed by silence.
I hit the carpet, rolled to my feet, and ran to the window. The demon lay below me, dark liquid leaking across the concrete under his head. He’d hit hard enough to be killed, and I couldn’t be sad about that.
A hand came down on my shoulder, and I did another of those damn squeaks even as I swung around and buried my fist into a stomach that felt like steel. There was another oomph, and then my hand was caught and held tight.
I looked up into jade eyes that glittered with the barest hint of pain. “Oh. Sorry.”
“My fault entirely.” He didn’t quite wheeze, but his voice was nowhere near as deep and seductive as it normally was. “Where’s the demon?”
“I kicked it out the window. It’s dead on the concrete below.”
He pressed past me and looked out. “A brown—how the hell did a brown get past all the protections layered around this place?”
“The same way his mate at Jackie’s did—with help.”
He frowned. “Has there been any word on how Jackie is?”
“Not yet.” I paused. “I’m gathering you’ve talked to Mo recently?”
“She rang me a few hours ago. It’s part of the reason I’m here.”
“The other reason being my brother?”
“Yes.” He slammed the window shut. “I’ll go around and get rid of the body. It might be worth putting in a call to your grandmother to see if Jackie has regained consciousness. We need to know what the demons are after, both there and here.”
I nodded and followed him downstairs. “You’re coming back?”
“Yes. I’ll knock on the door.”
Once he’d left and the door was locked again, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket. Thankfully, my drop onto the carpet hadn’t done it any damage.
I hit Mo’s number then walked back up to Max’s room and peered out the window. Luc knelt next to the demon’s body, examining it while he talked on his phone. I leaned against the window frame and admired the play of muscles so evident under the wet shirt.
Mo finally answered. “I haven’t anything to tell you yet, which is why I haven’t called.”
I frowned. “She hasn’t regained consciousness?”
“No. They’ve done some blood tests, and it appears she was drugged.”
“Why the hell would a demon drug her? Especially if he was intent on torturing the information out of her?”
“Don’t know, but I have some theories.”
“You always do.”
She chuckled softly. “I think whoever is responsible for breaking her protection spells is also behind the drug.”
“And when it didn’t work quickly enough, they resorted to torture.”
“Yes.” She paused. “Any problems there?”
I told her about the demon. “I have no idea what he was after, but he was definitely looking for something.”
Mo grunted. “The mess in that room might be the sole reason he didn’t succeed.”
“I guess so.” Luc walked over to one of the rubbish bins lining the back of the small courtyard and pulled out a large, black plastic bag. After emptying its contents, he moved back and shoved the demon’s body into it. “Why did you send Luc here?”
“Because I thought you’d like the company.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Oh, so am I.”
“Mo, seriously, quit it.”
She chuckled again. “Okay, so it’s not just about giving you pretty company. It’s rather obvious someone is after you, and I’m a little worried they might be trying to get to Max through you.”
I frowned. “Why would you think that? What has Max done that I don’t know about?”
“I don’t actually know, and that’s the problem. But he’s been rather evasive of late, and that worries me.”
“He’s been evasive for years; I don’t think it’s altered much in the last few months.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, I know you’re well able to take care of yourself under most circumstances, but I’m thinking it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially since I can’t be there.”
“But why Luc? You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t have to. He’s a Blackbird.”
“The order might have changed a little in the centuries since the last Witch King.”
“Some things in this world are eternal, and some things never change. The Blackbirds are the latter.”
“Evil being the former, I take it?”
“Amongst other things, yes.”
Which had me wondering what other things she might have been talking about, but I knew from long experience it was pointless asking. If and when she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.
“I know Max has always been a bit wild, but he’s only ever dabbled in the shadows. There has to be a mistake; it can’t have been him at the museum—for a start, creating a light shield isn’t in his skill set.”
“No, but such a spell can be purchased easily enough. But until he gets home, we won’t know the truth.”
Meaning she intended to grill him—and she was damn good at getting to the truth of the matter when she wanted. We’d both learned that very early on in our lives.
“I’ll give him another call tonight and see if he has any idea what the demon was after.” I paused. “Do you think it could be the book I took?”
“How would they know we have it? Besides, if they’d been after that particular book, they would have had enough time to grab it before we got there.”
Especially since whoever had shattered Jackie’s protection spells was long gone by the time we arrived.
“After you call your brother,” Mo continued, “Search his room. You might get lucky.”
“Doubtful, given I have no idea what I’m looking for.”
“Trust your instincts; as I’ve said, they’re usually pretty good.”
“Except when there’s a pretty man in the room, apparently.”
She chuckled again. “Happy birthday, my dear.”
I snorted. “Aside from the fact it’s weeks away, I’d rather s
omething more practical.”
“Seriously? Whose loins did you come out of again?”
“Not yours, thankfully. And Mother was far more reserved—”
“Don’t believe the cock and bull stories your aunt tells you. Those two were the very definition of wild—at least until your mom met your dad.”
“So how come you’ve never mentioned this before now?”
“Because your brother was wild enough for the two of you. I was an old woman even then and couldn’t possibly have coped with both of you testing the limits.”
I smiled. “Mo, if there’s one thing you’ve never been, it’s old.” Not when it came to physical or mental strength, anyway.
“Ha! Tell that to the birth certificate.”
“I’ve seen that certificate, and the year is mysteriously fudged out.”
“Well, we can’t have every Tom, Dick, or Barney knowing a girl’s true age, now can we?”
“I suppose not.” Though I doubted Barney would actually care, given he was totally smitten. “Make sure you ring once you’ve talked to Jackie.”
“You make sure to enjoy the local scenery.”
She hung up before I could reply. I shook my head and hit Max’s number, but this time it went to voicemail.
“Brother, I need you to ring me the minute you get this—no matter what the time. It’s urgent.”
As I shoved my phone back into my pocket, a man-shaped shadow flowed over the fence below and shook Luc’s hand, I pushed back from the window and began my search, starting with the drawers the demon had been standing near. There was nothing that tweaked my instincts, so I moved on. I was barely halfway through the mess when someone rapped loudly on the door downstairs.
I took a quick look out the window; all evidence that a demon had died on the concrete below had disappeared, and neither Luc nor his shadowed partner were visible.
I rattled down the stairs, then opened the door. “Who was the man helping you with the demon? Another Blackbird?”
“Why do you always insist on asking questions while I’m standing in the wind and the rain?”
“Maybe I just like the soaked-to-the-skin look on you.” Which was a little closer to the truth than I should ever have admitted. I stood to one side and waved him in. “Unless you’re only staying for a second, you really need to get out of those wet clothes and let me dry them for you.”
“That perhaps would be for the best, especially since I intend to stay the night.”
“What? No. I don’t care what Mo said, I don’t need a babysitter.” Especially one capable of getting my hormones in such a twist.
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression serious. “That demon—a simple brown demon—somehow got through all the spells that surround this place. He unlikely did so alone, and I doubt whoever is behind the intrusion will abandon whatever ill they were attempting.”
“Yes, but I’m fully capable of looking after myself.”
“Yes, but the next time they might send more than just a brown.” He shrugged. “Besides, until I catch up with your brother, I am, I’m afraid, your shadow.”
“To repeat my previous statement, no. Besides, I’m going out for dinner tomorrow night, and I do not need nor want a scowling shadow.”
“The dinner being with the man who left here a few minutes before I arrived?”
He couldn’t quite disguise his contempt, and my gaze narrowed. “Yes—why?”
He hesitated. “No reason.”
“Mo’s right—you can’t lie for shit, Blackbird. Give.”
His mouth ticked upward ever so slightly, though the amusement didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Tristan Chen has something of a reputation in London.”
I locked the front door. “What type of reputation?”
“There have been rumors of him accepting commissions for work that’s less than legal. We’ve never been able to prove anything, however.”
I frowned. “And why would the Blackbirds even be keeping an eye on him? The Chens have never been related—in any way—to the royal line, as far as I’m aware.”
“True, but we always keep an eye on those who socialize with heirs.”
“And he is?”
“He was dating the sister of one for a few months, yes.”
So much for Tris’s claim of having no love life—not that I’d actually believed him. “And this is why you don’t like him?”
Surprise flickered briefly through his eyes. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” I motioned toward the stairs. “Why don’t we continue this conversation once you’ve had a shower and warmed up?”
Again he hesitated. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sensed my attraction and didn’t want to be placed in a situation that could be misconstrued.
“That would be good,” he said eventually.
I nodded and once again went upstairs. After grabbing a towel and one of Gran’s woolen bath robes—which was a man’s, simply because she preferred their length and sturdiness over the typical woman’s robe—I told him to strip off in the bathroom and toss his clothes out to me.
Once I’d shoved them all into the dryer, I sent Mia and Ginny a text, telling them they were to join Tris and me for dinner tomorrow night. Then I pulled a pizza out of the freezer, added extra cheese and bacon, and put it in the oven.
Luc came down fifteen minutes later. He was wearing Mo’s gown, but his feet were bare and his sword was visible and slung over one shoulder.
My gaze slid down his long length and came to an abrupt halt at his feet. “Hobbit toes.”
Confusion crossed his face. “What?”
“You have hobbit toes.”
He frowned down at his feet. “They are an appropriate length for my size.”
No doubt other bits of him were, too … I cleared my throat and pushed the resulting images away. “Yes, but they’re extraordinarily hairy.” Which his chest—or the bit not covered by the dressing gown—was not.
“That, sadly, is genetic, and has long been the bane of my mother. She has them waxed regularly.”
“She’d have no other choice if she wanted to wear pretty shoes.”
“Only a woman would think that way.”
“Only a man would make such a chauvinistic comment. Would you like a drink?”
“A coffee, please.”
I turned on the kettle, then crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter while he placed his sword on the top of the couch and then sat down. He stretched his long legs under the coffee table and crossed them at the ankles. Everything the man did was goddamn elegant.
“Why don’t you like Tris?” I asked eventually.
“I don’t know what you gleaned from my expression, but you’re mistaken. I neither like nor dislike him. I simply don’t trust him.”
“Why?”
Again his mouth twitched. “As I’ve already noted, you are very much of your grandmother’s bloodline.”
I frowned. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning she also has a reputation for never leaving a question unasked.”
“And Blackbirds have a reputation for avoiding them. But if you want our help, you need to be a little more forthcoming.”
He sighed; it was a sound edged with frustration. “We suspect Tristan Chen dated Monika Aquitaine in order to glean information from her. A large amount of money appeared in his account a few days after they’d split.”
“Could have been a coincidence.”
“Unlikely, given this is not the first time in the last eight months it has happened.”
“The other incidents also involved heirs?”
“No.” He paused. “We also don’t think it’s a coincidence he turned up here after a ten-month absence to reignite a relationship with the sister of someone we’re interested in.”
Neither did I, when it was put like that—especially after his break-in effort. “Have you any idea who paid him?”
Luc shook his head. “We’ve be
en trying to trace them back, but we’re not having much luck so far.”
“But you must have some idea which of the heirs is making a play for the crown. I mean, how many of them are there?”
“Thirteen direct descendants, seven indirect. Three who were murdered.”
“Recently?”
“Within the last month, yes.”
“I take it the remaining heirs are now all being watched?”
“Those we can find are.”
“And is Max one them?”
He hesitated. “Only very indirectly.”
“What about my cousins?”
“Gareth and Henry? Slightly closer than Max, but still so far down the tree they’re not likely to be hit.”
I hoped he was right, because I had few enough De Montfort relatives as it was. “And is Max the real reason you came to Ainslyn? You’re on protection detail?”
This time, the smile was full-blown and my stomach flip-flopped. The man really was too good looking for my own good.
“As I said, I was sent here to guard the remaining artifacts. The fact that a distant heir lives here on a part-time basis was not a consideration, given it’s very unlikely his hand will ever lift the sword. I do, however, need to talk to him about that break-in at the museum.”
“I did ask him about it. He denies any involvement.”
“Does he also deny attacking the Blackbird sent to question him?”
“No. And be warned, he’ll probably do it again to anyone who gets in his way when he’s late for an appointment.” As the kettle began to boil, I reached up to grab a cup out of the cupboard. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Strong, black, and no sugar.”
I shuddered. “Good god, how do you drink it like that?”
His smile grew. “My palate has always preferred sharp things over sweet.”
Something in the way he said that had my gaze stabbing toward him. There was nothing in his expression to suggest he’d been referring to anything other than the coffee, and yet I couldn’t escape the notion that he had.
I made his drink and passed it over, doing my best to ignore the tremor that ran across my skin when our fingers brushed. Thankfully, the timer on the oven went off, so I grabbed a tea towel, pulled out the pizza and, once it was sliced, put it on the coffee table with a couple of plates.
