“Do you often get calls like this?” Liam asked.
“I live in this neighborhood intentionally, Detective,” he said evenly. “I help when I am needed. I have worked hard to build trust in this community, and everyone who lives here knows they can call me for help—without judgment.”
“Did he tell you anything when he called?” I asked. “Anything about what happened to him?”
“No. He gave me his location, and that was it.”
“And he hasn’t said anything, no talking in his sleep?” I asked.
“He’s not sleeping, Ms. Renard. He’s in a coma.”
I lay a hand on Jeff’s arm, calling my magic. Blue energy flowed from my hand onto Jeff. I concentrated on his vital signs, imagining the magic pooling over the injuries on his stomach, then flowing up to his head, urging him to rouse from his dreams.
It wasn’t until I heard the feline growl that I realized Scath had stayed behind downstairs. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I backed away from the bed, moving for the door.
“Is your dog all right?” Dr. Dannon asked.
I met Liam’s eyes. “I’m going to go check.”
Liam took a step closer to the bed. “I’ll stay here with Jeff.”
My nerves tightened into knots as I made my way down the stairs, creeping up to where Scath waited by the door. Her fur stood up, and her eyes held that eerie green glow that didn’t bode well for whatever was out there. She sniffed at the door, then turned, staring at the small hallway leading further into the house.
“I really wish you could talk,” I muttered.
Scath didn’t look at me, but she slowly began to creep back toward the stairs, turning left this time instead of going right up to where Jeff’s room was. I followed, every nerve in my body sizzling with awareness, my magic burning, ready to rise to a spell. Slowly, Scath nosed open the door at the end of the hallway.
It was a tiny room, as were most of the rooms in Dr. Dannon’s house, compartmentalized as it was. As the door swung open, I had time to note the desk to my right, pressed against the wall beside the door, and the small dark green loveseat set against the opposite wall. A window on the right wall perpendicular to the door was the only source of outside light, and a heavy forest green curtain had been drawn over it, leaving the room in shadows.
A figure shifted on the couch, a man’s form straightening, glittering dark eyes meeting mine. My stomach bottomed out as I took in the stranger’s glossy crimson hair, pale skin, and blood red lips. I knew him. Had seen him earlier at the fight club.
It was Nathan.
The baobhan sidhe.
Chapter 20
Fear ripped my magic from the well inside me, burning down my arm as I raised my hand, my lips already moving to form a spell. Nathan held up his hands, palms out, in the universal sign of “don’t shoot.”
“Wait!” he rasped. He swayed on the couch, bracing one long-fingered hand on the padded arm to steady himself. “Wait,” he said again.
Scath growled, the low sound rumbling up through her belly to pour out her lips. A green light shimmered over her eyes as she focused on the sidhe before us, and I shivered even though she was on my side.
“I need to talk to you.” Nathan kept his voice calm, but there was a tremor there he couldn’t hide. Not while Scath was watching him so intently.
I didn’t let go of the spell, holding it ready to fire if he so much as twitched in my direction. “If you came to talk to me, then why are you hiding back here?” I kept my voice low so Dr. Dannon wouldn’t hear me. I didn’t need him coming downstairs right now.
Nathan’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Mother Renard, I was never meant to be out at this time. The sunlight is draining, and I’m tired. Getting here was not pleasant, even with tinted windows, and given the likelihood that our meeting would be…rocky, I thought it best if I rested for a moment before coming to you.” He closed his eyes. “I just needed to rest for a moment.”
I narrowed my eyes. Baobhan sidhe weren’t like vampires. Sunlight might be unpleasant for them, but it wouldn’t kill them. And even though they might be weaker during the day, that didn’t make them any less dangerous. “You seemed just fine at the club earlier.”
Nathan laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “You should know how dangerous it is to show weakness in a place like that. I was not awake by choice. That was an order given to me by my master after…” He stopped, shook his head.
“Your master?” I prompted.
“My master is not pleased about what happened that night,” Nathan murmured, distracted, as if even now imagining the master in question. “Not pleased with the situation, or with me. I am to remain available no matter the hour, until I’ve corrected my mistake. I need to drink more frequently to keep my strength up since I’m not being allowed to keep my own hours, and the fight club is the best place.” He snorted. “Everyone goes there to bleed or to take advantage of those who are bleeding. No one minds if I partake in what is already there.”
I braced myself, ready to let go of the spell. A dull ache was starting in my hand from holding it, and I’d have to decide soon between letting it go and letting it dissolve. “I won’t let you hurt Jeff.”
“I am not here to hurt him,” Nathan said calmly. “I am here to talk to you.” He scooted forward on the couch. I tensed and he stopped. “Just talk. I drank from the goblin, and I saw his memories of you. You’re a village witch. You help people.”
I froze. “You let Kendrick take your phone. So you could track me here.” I dropped my hand to my waist pouch. “But I turned the GPS off.”
“But not the whole phone.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Stasya was not supposed to die that night. My master only wanted information. Stasya would have been released.”
I pressed the power button on his phone, holding it until the device shut down. I had to hope no one else was tracking it. Blood and bone, I cursed to myself. We need to get Jeff out of here now.
“And who is your master?” I asked.
“Someone who takes confidentiality clauses very seriously,” Nathan said softly. He tugged at the collar of his button-up midnight blue shirt. “And I have no desire to end up like Roger Temple.”
“So you can’t tell me who you’re working for—what a surprise. Can you tell me what information you wanted from Stasya?”
He shook his head.
I retrieved my phone and opened my texting app and started a new message to Liam. “So to be clear, you expect me to take the word of a killer, someone who tortures people for fun, that you’re not here to kill Jeff?”
“So judgmental. You make many assumptions.”
Nathan straightened in his position on the couch, and his sudden movement made me put the phone back in the pouch, full concentration on the spell sending a dull ache up my forearm.
His jaw tightened. “I drink blood to survive. And when I drink someone’s blood, I get flashes of their memories. I can serve a purpose doing what I need to do anyway in order to survive. My way requires as little pain as necessary, as opposed to torture, which requires the most pain possible.”
“So you work for Ian Walsh as an interrogator to make things easier on his victims.”
“I never said I work for Ian Walsh.”
I scoffed. “Did you come here just to tell me that Stasya’s death wasn’t your fault? That you were just trying to make the best of a bad situation and things got out of hand?” I lifted my chin. “What about what happened to Jeff? You almost killed him. Was that not your fault?”
“I have to follow orders,” Nathan said coldly. “Just like you.”
I stiffened before I could stop myself. “What did you say?”
“I know about your contract with Flint Valencia. You hate following his orders, but you do it anyway, and you take solace in knowing that someone benefited from your sacrifice. Why is it so hard for you to believe the same of me? I did not kill Stasya. I did not want her dead.”
“And Jeff?” I pressed.
Nathan pressed his lips together, frustration tightening his features. “My master was very insistent that no one find out about Stasya. Especially him.”
“But Jeff already knew. Didn’t he?”
“Not Jeff.”
“Then who?” My voice sounded strained even to my own ears. I had to decide now, use the spell or let it go. I took a long, slow breath, trying to keep my hand from shaking.
Nathan opened his mouth, but no words came out, only a gasp. His eyes flew wide, orbs of polished ebony in his bone pale face. He grabbed his throat as if scratching at an invisible noose, dragging his nails down his skin and leaving red trails in their wake. It was a hauntingly familiar gesture.
“Stop talking!” I said quickly, my heart pounding. “Stop talking, your contract is reacting.”
Nathan opened his mouth and choked again, sliding off the couch to hit the floor on his knees, his body folding forward.
“Stop trying to talk!” I hesitated, unwilling to get too close, frustration increasing the ache in my hand holding the spell to a dull throb. It could be a trick. He could be acting.
“Master wants… Master wants…”
“Stop talking!” Peasblossom’s wings vibrated with tension and she held onto a lock of my hair as she leaned toward the sidhe. “You’re going to kill yourself.”
“You need to know,” he rasped. “Liam’s in danger. My master wants—”
This time when he choked, I hit my knees beside him. The spell I’d been holding shot down my arm, back into the writhing magic inside me, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “What about Liam?” I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “No, don’t answer yet.” He couldn’t tell me, not if the contract wouldn’t allow it. I had to get him to calm down first, had to get the contract to stop. There had to be a way to get the information. “Peasblossom, go to Liam, tell him what’s going on.”
Peasblossom hesitated, but Scath took a step toward the sidhe, her eerie green eyes lit with anticipation. “I’ll be right back,” she promised.
She leapt off my shoulder and sailed out of the room. I didn’t look away from Nathan, but suddenly he dove forward, so fast I didn’t have time to move. He grabbed my arms, desperation pinching his face.
“Help me,” he choked.
The fine hairs on his hands slid into my skin, so thin there was almost no pain, just a faint pinching sensation, like being gripped too tight. Panic shot through me, sending my heart into my throat. Scath growled, and I didn’t tell her to back down. Nathan might be reacting out of panic, but he could be doing this on purpose. I didn’t know which yet.
“Nathan, let go,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I’ll help you, but you have to let go.”
“Must heal.” His voice was wet, as if the contract had done more damage than I’d thought. “Please.”
“I can help you heal, but you need to let go. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. You don’t have permission to drink my blood.”
He still didn’t let go. When he dipped his head to my arms and licked at the blood seeping between his hand and my flesh, that was it.
“Scath,” I snapped.
Scath growled, and Nathan reacted as if she’d bit him. He released me and hurled himself back, collapsing against the seat of the couch, his chest heaving in great gasping breaths. Scath took a step closer, bringing her mouth full of sharp teeth close enough to the baobhan sidhe to take a chunk out of his shoulder if he moved.
“Distract me.”
His voice was so strangled, I almost couldn’t make out the words. He choked and spit, and there was blood in the saliva that hit the pale cream carpet.
“No sleep, no coma. Distract me.” He tried to suck in a breath, but choked on it, his hand returning to his throat and scratching at his skin. More red lines traced down his throat. “I won’t tell you about what happened that night. I won’t talk about my master.”
He tapped his throat as he said the words, and I nodded that I understood. He was announcing his intent, reinforcing his determination not to break the terms of the contract. It must have helped, because his next breath didn’t sound like it was being dragged over a bed of broken glass, and he pushed himself to a sitting position with his back against the couch.
He was behaving like a man with good intentions.
Still…
“Intentio,” I said.
Nathan eyed me warily as I touched his arm, pressing the spell into his body despite the bite of his hairs against the pads of my fingers. I didn’t tell him what the spell was, and he didn’t ask. I put more distance between us and settled on the floor.
“So let’s talk about something you’re allowed to talk about. Something of value. Something that won’t set off your contract.”
Nathan nodded, prying his hand off his throat with obvious effort. “All right. Let’s talk about relationships. Let’s talk about you and Liam, the wolf from the night club.”
I narrowed my eyes, anger sharpening my tone. “My personal life—”
“Romance can destroy relationships,” Nathan said loudly, touching his throat while holding my gaze. “Romance is never predictable, but it is even less so if there is a working component to the relationship. If you rely on someone for your livelihood. No matter how solid the relationship, romance can destroy it. Poison it from the inside. And it can work the other way as well. If the romance started first, adding a business component can destroy the trust that love built.”
I knew he was trying to be vague, vague enough that the contract wouldn’t react. But what he’d said could apply to any number of people involved in this case. Charbel and Stasya, Jeff and Barbara. Technically, Roger and Barbara, really. Ian and Barbara might even qualify.
Nathan watched me, the expression in his eyes intent. Waiting for me to figure it out.
Doubt nagged at me, a tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me I was missing something obvious. Nathan was sidhe, a master of double-talk and deception, a master of lying without lying. If anyone could figure out a way around the contract, it was him. If I could decode it. It was a shame Roger hadn’t had his skills.
The tiny voice got louder, the sensation of doubt stronger. Then it hit me.
“I hear Stavros Rosso over at Fortuna’s Stables Racino is good with enchanted contracts,” I said slowly. “The kind that keep people from talking about things.” Nathan stiffened and I held up a hand. “I’m not going to ask you anything you’ve been forbidden to talk about.”
“Perhaps we should stay on safer ground,” Nathan said carefully. He tapped his throat again, drawing my attention to the trails of red from where he’d scratched himself so desperately. So theatrically.
“I’m talking strictly hypothetically,” I assured him. I called my magic, flexing my still sore fingers as I readied a new spell. Beside me, Scath’s muscles vibrated with the promise of swift action.
“My understanding is Stavros is the best. So much so that Ian Walsh and Aaban Nassir both use him as an independent contractor. Can you think of anyone else either man might use?”
Nathan frowned. “A contract is a specialty, but not so difficult that there aren’t many magic users in the area who could enchant one.”
“But have you known Ian Walsh to use anyone else?” I pressed. “Or Aaban for that matter?”
Nathan opened his mouth, then shut it. “I can’t speak to the fact of that matter.”
“Even though you’ve worked for both?” I asked. “Even though you apparently worked for Ian and then left Underhill to work for Scoria Security?”
“I never said that,” Nathan said calmly.
“No, you didn’t. Perhaps that’s what you meant by romance complicating things. Perhaps it was a romance with Aaban that destroyed your working relationship with Ian?”
“I can’t speak to my master’s—” Nathan’s voice paled on a rasp and he put a hand to his throat.
I smiled. There it was, a sliver of doubt
in Nathan’s expression, concern that I wasn’t buying his act. “You know, once Roger tried to talk to me and the contract reacted, there was no stopping it,” I said softly. “He’s unconscious now, ostensibly not trying to break it, and it’s still killing him. But your contract seems to release you as long as you promise to be a good boy and not try and break it again.”
Scath’s head shot up, cutting me off before I could say anything else. Her ears pricked forward as she looked toward the curtained window. The curtains swayed, moved by a breeze from outside the open window. She swiveled her head around, sniffing the air. A growl raised the hairs on my arms as the baobhan’s words from before echoed in my mind.
“Liam is in danger.”
Nathan dove for me. I didn’t have time to get out of the way, no time to focus my thoughts away from images of what other intruders might have made it into the house. Fortunately, the spell I’d put on him earlier reacted immediately.
He screamed as the magic I’d pressed into his body reacted to his violent intentions, seizing every nerve in sudden agony. Spasming from head to toe, he hit the floor on one knee, sucking in breath through clenched teeth, black eyes shining with hatred in the dim light.
Scath’s heavy paw swiped out in a thick black line, curved claws aimed for Nathan’s pale face. The baobhan sidhe reacted with otherworldly grace despite his pain. He’d dropped his glamour, and the leg he swept out ended in a hoof that caught the cat sith in the snout.
Blood poured from the gash on Scath’s muzzle, but that didn’t stop her from sweeping out with her other paw, and this time, she found her mark. Nathan’s shirt ripped like wet tissue paper as Scath’s claws scored his chest, sending a wash of blood down the front of his body.
There was a crash from somewhere upstairs, and I cursed. There was someone else in the house, and they were upstairs with a comatose Jeff. And Liam.
Mercenary Page 25
