by Keri Arthur
“It would seem so.” He poured the hot chocolate into my mug—my favorite Disney one, I noted with amusement, which meant he already knew me better than Tris ever had—and then topped it up with a generous amount of whiskey. After adding more into a separate glass, he picked up both and walked over. “The air was tainted by a metallic-ash scent, so at least one of them was a dark elf.”
I accepted the enhanced chocolate with a nod of thanks. “I’m surprised they got through all the reinforcements Mo and Barney placed around the tunnels and that chamber.”
He shrugged and sat down at the opposite end of the sofa. Out of touching distance, I couldn’t help but think. “All magic can be broken—you just have to be familiar with the type of spell being used.”
“Problem is, Mo’s well known for using the unfamiliar.”
“Which is why I called Barney; he said it would have taken a lock mage of some power to break the combination of their spells.”
I sipped my chocolate and watched him over the rim. His face was expressionless but we both knew what he was implying.
“As far as I’m aware, Tris doesn’t know about the tunnels. If he used another means of entry, it would have been caught on tape.”
“It wasn’t, because he didn’t. The dark elves are obviously using the tunnel near their gateway, so if he’s working with them—”
“That’s the one thing I can’t believe he’d do.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Both.” I grimaced. “He’s a friend who was once a whole lot more. I really don’t want to think he could have fallen that far.”
He studied me for a moment. “I gather—given the condition in which you arrived—that you did track him after your dinner?”
I nodded and updated him on everything we’d discovered. Which wasn’t a whole lot, if I was at all honest. He pulled out his phone and made a note of the number plate. “I see if I can pull some strings and get it traced.”
“Good.” I took another drink and felt the happy burn all the way down to my toes. “Jackie’s finally awake, by the way. The demons were after the Valeriun family bible.”
Understanding flickered through his beautiful eyes. “They’re trying to track down Luis’s line.”
“Luis being Rodella and Marcus’s son, I take it?”
He nodded. “Did they take the bible or is it still in safekeeping somewhere?”
“Jackie didn’t have it—she was looking for it.”
“She must have gotten close, otherwise they wouldn’t have attacked her.”
“I’d have thought it’d make more sense to wait until after she had it.”
“But you’re sensible.” He glanced down at the slippers. “Mostly.”
I smiled and took another drink. The man did make damn fine whiskey-laced hot chocolate. “The bible was supposedly taken into safekeeping quite a while back by a person or persons unknown. Mo said it’s likely to be in either another repository or in Blackbird safekeeping somewhere.”
“The latter is certainly possible, although I’ve not heard of its existence at headquarters.”
“And just where is that?” I asked curiously. “Do you live in modern premises? Or are you all monks who live in one big old monastery-like building?”
Amusement creased the corners of his mouth, but my pulse rate barely even fluttered. Apparently, even it was too damn weary to do anything more. “Whatever gave you the idea that we were monks?”
I smiled. “Hey, you are a secretive organization. It leads to rumors and speculation.”
“Well, we’re not, and we certainly don’t live in a monastery. In fact, our current headquarters in Covent Gardens was once a rather notorious tavern in the seventeenth century.”
“Do any of you live there?”
“Only if a full meeting has been called and there’s no accommodation elsewhere. I own a manor house in Somerset and, for the most part, that’s where I live.”
“With your family?”
He smiled, though his eyes remained wary. “No. Nor am I married or otherwise entailed, if that’s your next question.”
“‘Entailed’ is a very odd way of describing a relationship.”
“Many would say I’m a very odd man.”
He wasn’t going to get an argument about that from me. “I thought I’d head over in the morning to check the warehouse out. If you’ve nothing pressing to do, would you be able to break into Tris’s room and steal some hair from his comb?”
Luc’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“Mo’s charm is stuck in his car, which only gets us so far. Mia needs his DNA to create something more refined.”
“Then we’ll do both—I doubt it’s wise for you to go into that warehouse alone given the attacks—”
“Splitting forces would be quicker—”
“But not safer,” he cut in. “Your grandmother would agree with me.”
Yes, she would, but not for the reasons he was presuming. Still, after what that dark elf had said, it was better to err on the side of caution. “Then we’ll take your car—”
“Motorcycle.”
Oh dear … “Really?”
His eyebrows rose. “You don’t like motorcycles?”
“Love them.” Probably a little too much—which was fine when riding with someone I was also sleeping with, but Luc had shown nothing but wariness.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There isn’t one. I was just surprised.”
I did my best to ignore the glint in his eyes—a glint suggesting he knew well enough what my problem was. Only time would tell whether he’d be similarly … perturbed … by sharing the close quarters of a motorcycle. I suspected he wouldn’t be; the attraction seemed very one-sided at the moment. Either that, or he had a will of iron when it came to that sort of stuff.
“I guess,” I added, “that it does make an odd sort of sense, given it is the modern-day equivalent of a war horse.”
“You’re not the first to note that.” He studied me for a second. “Have you heard from your brother as yet?”
“No.” And tried to ignore the insidious whisper that said maybe that was because he was still in the silver car driving god knew where.
“And you’re sure he is in Paris?”
No. “He wouldn’t lie to me. He never has in the past, no matter what he was up to.”
Luc’s expression was less than convinced. “Perhaps Mo could run a tracer spell on him.”
I hesitated and then nodded. If nothing else, it would tell me once and for all whether my fears about the man in the silver car were correct. I drained the rest of my drink and placed the mug on the coffee table. “I’d better get some sleep. Are you staying or going?”
Another smile touched his lips. “Despite you wishing otherwise, I’m staying. I’d rather not risk your grandmother’s wrath.”
“I somehow think fear and you are not often companions.”
“And in that, you’d be wrong.” He raised his glass. “Sleep well.”
I flashed him a smile, saw a brief spark in his eyes that might have been desire but was more than likely my imagination and wishful thinking, and once again headed upstairs alone.
The smell of bacon woke me the next morning. I pushed the blankets away from my face and glanced blearily at my phone. Eight o’clock. Fuck.
I threw myself out of bed and shivered into jeans and a thick woolen sweater. After doing my teeth and twisting my hair into a topknot to tame it, I grabbed my phone and trundled down the stairs. Mo was in the kitchen. Luc was nowhere to be seen.
I ignored the sliver of disappointment and walked over to the breadbox. “How’s Jackie?”
“Good, considering. I convinced her it would be better for everyone’s sake if she disappeared for a few days. Once she’s released, she’ll take up the offer of a friend and head over to Portugal.”
I dropped four slices of bread into the toaster. “Is she okay to get on a plane?”
Mo nod
ded. “Just the bruising remains, and as bad as it looks, it isn’t dangerous.”
“That’s at least something.” I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms. “Was she able to give you a description of the man who was with the demon?”
“No, but she said he was a witch of some power, because he unpicked her spells with ease and was in the house before she could really react.”
I rubbed my arms and tried not to think about Tris’s competency when it came to spell locks. “So what’s our next move?”
“I thought you and Luc were investigating that warehouse this morning?”
“We are. I meant after that.” I hesitated. “Where is he?”
“He went to a hotel to shower and change. He’ll be back by the time Mia gets here.”
“I thought he was staying at the King’s Tower?”
“There’s no point now that the throne has been taken.”
The toast popped up. I grabbed the butter out of the fridge and slathered it on. “Given Mia’s still minding the store, I take it you have plans?”
Mo nodded and began dishing up the bacon. “I’ll continue following Tris. The Leaf is new, so he won’t immediately recognize it.”
“Except he’s been here twice now and might have seen it parked over the road.”
She shrugged. “A risk, but a small one, I think. He was never really that observant.”
“Maybe once that was true, but he’s playing a very different game now.”
“I’ve lived long enough that the likes of Tristan Chen will never catch me unawares. And you’d better put more toast on—Mia’s just arrived.”
The door downstairs opened even as she spoke, and Mia’s bright voice said, “Hello, anyone awake?”
“Upstairs,” I said, “and he’s not here.”
“Damn.” She bounced up the stairs with far too much energy for this hour of the morning. “But at least I get a bacon butty in compensation.”
I laughed and motioned her toward the table. “Have you got the tracker or does Ginny?”
She pulled it out of her handbag and placed it on the table. “We talked to the barman once Tris and the brunette had left. They used the internal stairs, suggesting they’d gone up to his room.”
Or hers, possibly. “Did the barman know her?”
“He said she wasn’t one of his regular patrons, but I did get a description.” She pulled out her phone and handed it over. “Oh, and before you say anything, I placed a slight restriction on him. He won’t be able to tell Tris we were asking after him.”
“Good.” I glanced down at her phone, but it was a pretty generic description except for the small sword tattoo on her left shoulder. I glanced at Mo. “If we send this to Barney, do you think he’d very discreetly ask around about her?”
“Yes—he’s been itching to get more involved in the investigation. I’ll send it to him now.”
I handed her the phone. “What about the first woman Tris met?”
Mia grimaced. “From where we were sitting, she looked drunk—he had to help her into the car.”
“Where did he pick her up?”
“The Bolton Guesthouse. They went straight to the factory from there. I took a photo as they were coming down the stairs, but it’s somewhat blurry thanks to how far back we were parked.”
Mo found the image and showed me. It was both grainy and somewhat out of focus, but she had shortish blonde hair and wore jeans, a red-and-green striped sweater, and orange runners. Color coordination was obviously not her thing. “And you didn’t see her leave the factory?”
“No, but Tris did leave via the pub, so it’s possible she was still there.” She paused. “I’m gathering you think they’re something more than simple pickups?”
“The first one surely was.”
“Yes, but there’s every indication the second one wasn’t.”
“I know.” And it was telling that I couldn’t muster any real annoyance or anger. I had no real doubt that they’d fucked like rabbits, if only because there’d been something very frenetic in Tris’s lovemaking the other night. It was almost if he was making up for lost time … or simply didn’t have enough of it left.
I finished buttering the extra bits of toast, then pulled out a chair and sat opposite Mia. Once I’d slapped some bacon in between my toast, I glanced at Mo. “Did Luc mention casting a locator spell to ensure Max really is in Paris?”
She nodded. “It’s already been cast, but I won’t activate it until he rings. It requires less personal energy if I can pin it to a phone call.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply do a tracking spell using something personal?” Mia asked. “You’ve a whole room filled with his stuff upstairs.”
“Tracking spells can be combated with other magic,” Mo said. “Pinning a locator to something electronic doesn’t have that problem, because few know it is possible.”
“I certainly didn’t,” Mia said.
Mo patted her arm. “You’re young, that’s why. Knowledge gathers over time.”
“I’m pretty sure my parents don’t know it, either.” Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “They sure as hell would have used it when I was a teenager. It would have been far easier than hair-based locator spells.”
“Only fractionally,” Mo said. “And it’s a one-shot spell, whereas DNA-based spells can be used over a longer period of time.”
“I don’t suppose you could teach me it, could you?”
“Certainly, but why?”
Mia’s grin flashed. “For the next time I suspect a partner is cheating on me, but don’t want to go to all the time and effort of breaking into his house and stealing some hair.”
“As I’ve noted before, the young men in this town need to be bitch slapped for their lack of good sense.” Mo’s gaze hit mine. “I believe Max is about to return your call.”
“Why would—” I cut the rest off as my phone rang. With a mix of amusement and resignation, I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the screen.
“No,” Mia said. “It can’t be … can it?”
“It is.”
She shot Mo a bemused look. “How do you fucking do that?”
“I am a woman of many talents.”
“Many you shouldn’t have.”
“As I’ve said many a time to Gwen, it’s thinking like that that keeps everyone in their set little boxes.” She pulled another old iPhone out of her pocket and then activated it.
As her magic surged around us, as sharp as dozens of gnats, I hit the answer button. “It’s about fucking time, brother.”
“Hey, if you wanted a quicker answer, stop telling me it’s an emergency every damn time you ring. It gets to a point where disbelief sets in.”
“And if you stop ignoring me and your damn problems, then maybe I wouldn’t have to keep saying it’s urgent.”
He sighed. “I take it the Blackbird has been bothering you?”
“Yes. Have you taken his damn call yet?”
“No, because I was busy.”
“Doing what?” I glanced at Mo; she held up a finger. Another minute before she locked onto the signal.
“Enjoying my damn holiday,” Max said.
“Then you’re still in Paris?”
“Of course I am.” He paused. “Why?”
“Because Lucas swears he saw someone fitting your description in Ordsell.”
“What the hell would I be doing in Ordsell?”
“Eating at McDonald’s, apparently.”
His pause was just a little too long for my liking … or was I simply looking for reasons to distrust my own damn brother?
“I love McDonald’s, we both know that, but I’m not about to fly all the way to Ordsell just to grab a burger,” he growled. “Especially when there are plenty of McDonald’s here in Paris.”
“Got him.” Mo turned the phone around. On it was a small map of the 1st arrondissement area, with a small star next to the Castille, Paris—one of his favorite hotels.
>
Relief—tainted with a large portion of guilt—surged. He still wasn’t lying to me.
“Then call Lucas once we’ve finished talking, or I’m going to fly over there and pin you down until you do.”
He laughed. “You would, too.”
“Yes, because it’s no damn fun being shadowed by the man, let me tell you. A third wheel is not needed on dates.”
“You mean you’ve actually had one? Color me surprised.”
“Thanks for the confidence boost, bro.”
He laughed. “I hear Tris is back in town—why don’t you hook up with him again?”
“Been there, done that, not going back for seconds.”
“Why?”
I hesitated. “He’s changed.”
“Not that much. I saw him in London a few weeks ago, and he seemed like the same Tris to me.”
“Why were you meeting Tris?”
“Because he wanted to talk about some old book he was being commissioned to find.”
Annoyance stirred to life. It seemed I wasn’t the only one Tris was using. “Why would he come to you looking for a book? He knows you don’t read that much.”
Max laughed again. “No, but I do have access to the Okoro London library, and he was told it might have been kept there.”
“Who told him that? And what book was he after?”
“He didn’t say who his employer was, and I didn’t ask.” He must have shifted the phone from one ear to another, because the background voices sharpened. Just for an instant, one sounded familiar, but it was gone before I could place it. “But it was the family bible.”
My stomach began to churn. What were the chances of two different parties searching for two different family bibles? They had to be connected. Had to be. “Did he say why?”
“Nope. He just said he’d been commissioned to grab it and wanted my help.”
“And you said?”
“I said I’d photocopy the relevant pages if he told me what they were looking for. He said no, and so did I.”
“And is the bible actually there?”
“I don’t know—I didn’t bother checking.”
“Could you?”
He sighed. It was a rather put-upon sound. “I suppose I could ring and have someone check.”
“That would be great. Have you been in contact with Tris since then?”
