"I was protecting us. All of us. Rina and Steph were turning fae against us at the very time I was trying to persuade Cainsville we weren't a threat. Damara insisted on that human boyfriend even when I begged her to end it. If their deaths could get us into Cainsville? Could cure Pepper? Then yes, it was worth it, as hard as it was for me to kill my own sisters. They betrayed us first. And Erin? That was an accident. She caught me breaking into Aunika's apartment--getting things to make her comfortable. We fought, and Erin fell down the stairs, hit her head, and died. I decided to make use of the tragedy. The torture was done after her death."
"And Lucy?"
"She betrayed us, just like Ciro. Turned her back on her duty."
"Duty? It was a voluntary partnership, not indentured servitude. And she was helping you, in her way. You know that. You just needed her death to set your plan in motion, so you convinced yourself she deserved it. Now here's what you're going to do. You're going to call the Huntsman to let us out, and you're going to free Aunika, and you're going to let me take Pepper back to Cainsville, where I will make sure she's safe. And then you're going to run. Get your ass out of Illinois and never come back, or I'll set the Cwn Annwn on your tail."
"Is that what I'm going to do, Olivia?"
"It is, because if you really give a shit about Pepper, you'll take the deal and--"
She twisted under me, my switchblade in her hand, and I realized she hadn't been cowed by my threats at all. She'd been faking it to see how much I knew.
On the bright side, the guy who'd given me that blade knew that the biggest danger of carrying one was that your attacker would use it against you. That meant hours of training, and I thanked Ricky when my arm instinctively flew up to block Melanie's. Then I grabbed her wrist, wrenched, and heard the satisfying clink of the blade hitting the floor. I dove for it. My fingers hit the handle...and the blade skidded through the open door into the other room. I scrambled up.
"Stop," Melanie said. "And turn around."
I did, and discovered that the knife wasn't the only thing she'd taken from me. My gun was pointed at my chest.
"You don't want to do that," I said.
"You think being Matilda keeps you safe? Killing Olivia Taylor-Jones will keep me safe, because you obviously didn't put all the pieces together until you woke up here, meaning Gwynn and Arawn have no idea what's going on."
"I promise--"
"You can promise nothing."
I dodged. She fired. I felt the bullet hit my side. She fired again but wide, and I ran at her and threw her into the wall, and the gun skittered across the floor. As I got to it, she grabbed me from behind, her hands going around my neck. Before I could throw her off, something jabbed the back of my shoulder. Her fangs, digging in, and I tried to wrench away, but it was as if someone knocked my knees out. They gave way, and I toppled to the floor.
TROUBLE MAGNET
Olivia's car was in the lot. And Olivia was not.
Gabriel had been in his client meeting when he'd gotten that feeling he'd come to know well. In the beginning, it had been a vague sense of unease coupled with thoughts of Olivia. At the time, "unease" had often accompanied thoughts of Olivia, and he'd paid little mind until he'd realized this particular sensation was always followed by the discovery that Olivia was in danger.
If there had been one positive outcome of the Gwynn reveal, it was that he'd been able to lay this particular issue to rest. Accepting that he was Gwynn's current representative, it made sense that he would have a deeper connection to Olivia. Now that vague anxiety deepened to a cold fist that gripped his gut and could not be dismissed as the result of too much coffee.
When it came during his client meeting, it had taken every bit of willpower--and the fact that this was a very wealthy client, with myriad and easily solved legal issues--to keep from walking out. Instead, he excused himself and went out to speak to Lydia, whereupon he received the message from Olivia.
That still gave Gabriel no excuse to run out on a very valuable client. He did, however, bring the meeting to a rapid conclusion. Now he was laying a hand on the hood of Olivia's car. Warm but not hot, meaning she'd arrived at the office not long after calling Lydia.
He phoned Olivia. No answer. He dialed Melanie's cell. There was no answer. Then he tried another number.
"Hey, what's up?" Ricky said in answer.
Gabriel told him, ending with, "Has she contacted you?"
"No." Keys jangled and a door slammed, as Ricky was already on the move. "If she's got her phone, I can find her. Let me look it up and I'll call you right back."
"Look up...?"
"Uh, right. You remember how I got you and Liv new phones? This is probably a good time to mention that I put tracking devices in them."
"Excuse me?"
"Not like that." Ricky sighed. "See, this is the problem. I had them installed, and obviously I meant to tell you and show you how to use them, but then, with everything else, I forgot, and by the time I remembered...it was a little awkward."
"Telling us you were secretly tracking our phones?"
"Fuck, no. I haven't even turned on the damn app. But the longer I didn't mention it, the harder it was to say, 'Hey, Liv, I installed a GPS tracker in your phone...last week.' "
"And in mine."
"Mine, too. Look, I'm sorry. Dumbass move. But it's good that it's there now, right?"
Gabriel grumbled under his breath.
"Get in your car," Ricky said. "Head out. I'll call you back in five." He paused. "No, wait, you need a weapon."
"What?"
"Yeah, I know, you never carry one. Speaking of dumbass moves..."
"I do not require--"
"Liv is in trouble. Don't pull that shit. You have a gun at your office, right?"
The vision of Peter and Carl flashed, and Gabriel's stomach clenched. "No."
"Bullshit. Get the gun. Get in your car. By that time, I'll have an address for you."
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
When I woke, something constricted my chest so tightly I could barely breathe. My shirt was unbuttoned, and underneath my bra was a tightly wound strip of cloth.
"You're lucky she's a lousy shot," a voice said. "Or you're just good at dodging bullets."
I knew that voice. Sadly, it wasn't the one I'd hoped for.
I turned to the Huntsman, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was nearly as big as Gabriel. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. Light brown hair and beard. Looking mid-thirties. That sense of wrongness he'd emanated in the forest was gone. Here, he looked and "felt" like an ordinary guy.
Yeah, an ordinary guy who tortured a hound and could knock me out with a psychic blow.
"I did not torture the hound," he said.
Right, also mind reading. I needed to keep my thoughts muddled.
"The hound was broken when she came to me," he said. "They broke her. Her pack. I healed her."
"It wasn't her pack," I said. "It was an encounter with some creature she didn't recognize. It killed her brothers and sister and left her maimed."
"How do you--?"
"She told me everything. You found her. You tried to bribe her with food, and when that didn't work, you captured her."
"I healed her."
"You abused her."
"I never raised a hand--"
"You treated her like a dog."
"She's a cwn. She serves--"
"You serve each other. That's how it works. At least with real Cwn Annwn."
His face went taut, and he rocked forward as if he'd like to use that psychic TKO on me again. I wasn't bound, though, and the door was half open. This wasn't a hostage situation anymore. Or he wanted me to think it wasn't.
I gritted my teeth against the pain and rose to my feet.
"I rescued you," he said. "That lamia was going to kill you."
"How much?" I said.
"What?"
"How much are you charging for the rescue?" I looked at him. "That's how it w
orks, right? You're a mercenary. A Huntsman for hire. Now that bank has run dry, so you're looking for a new source of income."
"It's not like that," he said, a gruffness in his voice that added, Not exactly.
"Which part? You are a mercenary, right?"
"I have to make a living," he said coldly. "My pack cast me out. Yes, I take money for the use of my skills, which do not involve murdering those who don't deserve death."
No, you just help others do it.
I managed to keep that thought hidden as he continued, "My deal with the lamia was not for money. She doesn't have enough for what she needed done. She paid in other currency."
"Please tell me it wasn't sex."
The look was almost a psychic blow in itself. "No. What they gave me is unimportant. I've terminated the contract because she tried to murder Matilda. I want nothing to do with madness like that. So I rescued you."
"Great. Thanks." I turned to the door. "Now, I need to--"
"--find Pepper before Melanie does. Yes. And the other one. The samhail."
"Aunika? She's down here?"
"They both are. But not where the lamia expects to find them. Once I have secured a promise of payment, I will tell you where they are. And give you these." He held up my gun and a penlight.
"What's the price?"
"A blood oath that you will return my hound."
"Hell, no."
"I don't think you understand the situation--"
"If I promise you the hound, you'll tell me where to find Pepper and Aunika, and you'll give me back my gun. Otherwise, I have to find them myself, unarmed."
"No, otherwise, I lock you--"
"Pointless. Gabriel or Ricky will come for me, so all that buys you is a head start. Here's my offer: I give you my oath to tell Ioan and his merry Huntsmen that you saved my life. They won't exactly thank you, but it'll give you a lot more time to run. In return, you do the same--you let me walk away. Personally, I'd prefer the deal where I don't give you shit, but being part fae, I understand the concept of a fair bargain."
"And I am Cwn Annwn, which means I don't bargain."
"Um, isn't that exactly what you're--?"
"I'm demanding payment for services rendered."
"If you honestly think I'd return the hound so you can abuse--"
"I will treat her better. I'll give my blood oath on that. You obviously have some method of communicating with her, so you will explain the situation to her. She stays with me and obeys me, and I will treat her well."
"No."
He stepped toward me, his eyes glowing with that wild light. "She is mine. I rescued her. I've taken care of her."
I'd say she wasn't mine to give, but that implied I would otherwise, and there was no question of that. I'd been inside her head. Returning her to this monster would make me one.
The Huntsman snarled. "Monster? If you knew what they did to me, your precious Cwn Annwn--"
"Love to hear it, but this isn't the time for backstory. You say Cwn Annwn don't bargain. That's a lie. The fact I'm walking around proves it."
"That is a deal, not a--"
"Hair-splitting. You'll bargain, because you're fae, too, in your way. The hound is ours. Freedom is yours--and mine." I held out my arm. "You have my oath. Now take it in blood."
--
The Huntsman agreed to the deal. After I made the oath, I tried to wrangle my gun from him, but he was still pissed about the hound. I suspected I hadn't seen the last of him. For now, though, he was stepping off the playing field.
He did give me a parting gift: two minutes of deep and restful slumber. Yes, he knocked me out before he escaped, thankfully not with the head-splitting TKO. He'd touched the side of my head and I'd barely had time to say, "Wha--?" before I was on the floor, asleep.
When I jolted up, it seemed hours had passed, but a check of my watch showed it had been only minutes. The door was open, though, and he had left the penlight. I took it and made my way into the hall.
It wasn't long before I realized why he'd knocked me out...besides just being a jerk. He hadn't wanted me to see where he went. I wandered the tunnels for only a few minutes before I discovered Melanie had sealed the exits; I reached a metal door that I knew led back to the drop-in center, and it was bolted from the other side. So was the door that led to the room with the windows.
My goal, though, was finding Pepper and Aunika--I'd worry about locating an exit later. The problem was that the tunnels were, well, tunnels. They predated Prohibition, and I could only guess at their original use. Chicago has a rich history of putting stuff underground, despite the fact that we're on a lakefront and have several rivers running through the city.
As soon as I had an inkling of how big this place was, I stopped running down halls and randomly pushing open doors, and began handling it systematically, drawing a mental map in my mind and marking every door using a broken piece of brick.
I kept stopping and listening...and hearing nothing. What if Melanie had already gotten to them? What if she'd taken Pepper? Killed Aunika?
This wasn't a race. It was a hunt, and I had no scent to follow, and all I could do was proceed step by step and hope I wasn't too late, that if anything happened, I'd hear it.
I walked up to the next door and went to put my mark on it only to see an X already on the wood.
Damn it, this was an endless maze where every hall looked exactly the same. I could be walking in circles, lost in some alternate dimension, like in the psych hospital where all my logic and reasoning didn't do shit because this world wasn't logical or reasonable or--
Deep breath. Focus. This wasn't the psych hospital. I'd had flickers of visions when I opened doors in that one area--near the manacles and the room with the lamiae bodies. But they were flashes only, like I'd stepped over a trip wire.
I turned back the way I'd come, but the mental map in my head said I'd checked every passage. I'd looked everywhere.
Except behind the locked doors.
Therein lay the problem, didn't it? I'd encountered four bolted doors. Presumably, they would be exits, keeping me in. But still...
Damn it.
I took a deep breath and tried not to panic. Back up. Recheck and add a second X. It was all I could do.
I was heading down the next hall when I caught a noise inside a room. I eased the door open. Something darted across the dirt floor. Something furry and not nearly as small as I like my rodents. A wharf rat. I pulled the door shut, shuddered, and started to walk away. Then I stopped.
I backed up to that room, opened the door again, and looked in, expecting to see a rat-sized hole. But the walls looked solid. And there was no sign of the rat.
While ghost rats or disappearing fae ones were certainly a possibility, I wasn't jumping to that conclusion just yet. I walked into the room and started examining the walls. It didn't take long to find what I was looking for--a hatch on the side wall, set in a rough wooden-plank wall. It hung open an inch or so, not enough to be noticeable when I'd peeked through the door but enough for that rat to squeeze through.
I opened the hatch and peered into a narrow passage. I could see faint, flickering light at the end. I got down on my hands and knees, penlight between my teeth, and crawled into the passage.
The tunnel was about fifteen feet long. When I got to the middle of it, I had a mental image of someone slamming hatches on both ends, trapping me in--
Deep breaths. Which weren't easy to take when I had a metal tube between my teeth.
I continued on. As I neared the other side, I paused to listen. Silence answered. I crawled to the end and peeked out. An empty room with a partly open door on the other side. Wonderful--more rooms to search. The flickering light came through that door, though, which gave me hope I'd nearly reached my goal.
I pushed myself through...and a hand grabbed my hair, wrenching my head up, a blade pressing into my throat, Melanie's voice saying, "I think that's far enough, Olivia."
DEJA VU
&n
bsp; Ricky parked his bike beside the Jag. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen, which meant he'd arrived at least five seconds sooner and God forbid he should actually wait--not if Liv was in danger. Ricky sighed softly, but it wasn't so much annoyance as resignation and acceptance. This was how it was, how it would always be, and he had as much chance of changing it as he did of changing the course of the sun and the moon.
He broke into a jog and found Gabriel at the rear door, attempting to open it without touching the metal. He'd gripped it with his jacket but couldn't get the knob to turn, scowling as the fabric slid. If they hadn't been in a bit of a hurry, Ricky would have been tempted to take a picture. He picked up the pace again and was about to say something when Gabriel snatched his jacket off the knob and grabbed it with his bare hand.
"Hey!" Ricky whispered loudly as he ran over.
Gabriel already had the door open...and had one burned hand, which he tucked behind him as soon as he saw Ricky.
"Could you have waited two minutes?" Ricky said. "Seriously? How about a text to see if I was close?"
Gabriel didn't even respond to that, just pushed open the door and walked through as he tugged his jacket back on.
"Gun?" Ricky said.
Gabriel grunted something that Ricky was probably supposed to interpret as meaning yes, he had it. He knew better, and as they stepped into the first open room, Ricky held out a nine-millimeter.
"Keep it," Gabriel said.
"Got one." Ricky waggled a second gun. Not his usual style--he preferred fists and a blade--but if Liv was in danger, that had warranted a stop at a nearby stash where the Saints stored some of their merchandise.
"I don't need--" Gabriel began.
Ricky slapped the nine-millimeter in his hand and said, "I'm not standing around arguing while Liv is in trouble."
Gabriel opened his mouth, then shut it and nodded.
Ricky led Gabriel to the hatch in Aunika's closet. At the bottom they discovered what seemed proof that they were in the right place: the door leading into the tunnels was barred from their side. Gabriel burning his hand in his rush to get inside also suggested this was the place. He'd found Liv before, as if guided by an internal beacon. Ricky could protest that he had that, too, but it wasn't the same. It just wasn't.
Before they set off into the tunnels, Ricky whispered, "I'm going to take it slow and quiet. Follow my lead."
Betrayals Page 32
