Mercenary

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “Blaming me has become somewhat of a hobby for you,” I said calmly. “Pray tell, how is this situation my fault? Did I take a woman out of her homeland to do my bidding, then come between her and the man she cared for? Did I drive her to abandon my company and join the competition?”

  Arianne frowned, confusion pulling her brows together. “What are you talking about?”

  “Did I drag her away from a fight club, bloody and half-unconscious—in front of witnesses—on the night she was killed?”

  Arianne dropped her arm, some of the anger leaking from her face. “Fight club. You’re talking about Stasya? You said… What do you mean join the competition?”

  A noise behind me could have been Jeff escaping his bonds, but I didn’t have time to listen and find out for sure, and I couldn’t look. I took a step toward Arianne.

  “I have a witness that saw Aaban take a badly wounded Stasya from the fight club at the Fortuna’s Stables racino the night she was killed. The witness said he looked angry.”

  “Aaban was at home with Charbel the night Stasya was killed,” Arianne insisted. “They swore to me.”

  “Demons lie,” I said simply. “Even a demon’s oath doesn’t mean the same thing as a fey’s or a witch’s. You know that.”

  “Don’t speak of them as if they have no honor,” Arianne snapped. “Your prejudice blinds you.”

  “Stasya was killed at the National Acme Building,” I continued. “I have a witness that says Jeff shot a baobhan sidhe named Nathan that night, to stop him going after Roger after he witnessed Stasya’s murder. I also have proof that Aaban was in contact with Nathan, trying to recruit him.”

  Arianne’s brows knitted together, and she blinked those glowing silver eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “Aaban didn’t like the relationship developing between Charbel and Stasya. It caused friction between them. And I have to think that whatever Stasya’s nature, Aaban wouldn’t like her fighting to near incapacitation at a fight club before accomplishing the mission he’d chosen her specially for.”

  “Aaban understood,” Arianne argued. “The fighting, the relationship. He understood.”

  “Stasya didn’t think so. She defected to Underhill.”

  Arianne’s eyes widened. “She would never—”

  “Ian can’t lie,” I said quietly. “He can dance around the truth, he can twist the facts, but he can’t lie. He came right out and said Stasya was joining Underhill.”

  “No.”

  “I went to Jeff’s house,” I continued, gently but firmly. “There are pictures there threatening Ian and Barbara. Someone wants Jeff to claim it was Ian he saw at Acme.”

  “It was Ian!” Arianne shouted.

  “Why would Ian be there himself?” I demanded. “It would be a ridiculous risk! He can’t lie about that, not if he were asked a direct question.”

  Arianne lifted her chin. “Then it was his employees. Either way, he is responsible!”

  “The facts don’t support that.” I took a deep breath, forced myself to calm down. “Listen, I know it’s hard to believe. None of us want to think someone we care for, someone we respect and trust, could be capable of something like th—”

  Arianne surged forward, so fast I didn’t have time to get out of the way. She shoved me aside and faced Jeff where he still knelt with his face almost touching the ground. “He knows what really happened. He knows the truth.” She raised her hand, spreading her fingers as if she intended to grab bird and man together. “And he will tell me.”

  I didn’t notice the change in Jeff right away, but then I suppose that was the point. It wasn’t until he raised his face and I saw the delicate jawline, the smaller nose, the softer skin, that I registered what was different about him. The slender build, and the way his clothes didn’t fit as well as they had a minute ago. I stared at the woman who knelt where Jeff had been and my lips parted in shock. I’d heard of rangers changing their shape to look like an animal.

  This was the first sex change I’d witnessed.

  Arianne was taken by surprise too, and she didn’t recover in time to stop him. The handcuffs that had held his masculine wrists prisoner were useless for his smaller, feminine hands. Jeff held Arianne’s gaze as he slipped free of the handcuffs. Blackjack stabbed at Jeff’s temple with his thick bill, and Jeff hissed. A second later, he blinked out of the dreamworld, taking his companion with him.

  I didn’t get the chance to follow.

  Arianne’s power closed around me like a fist, crushing me until my knees bent, and I dropped to the ground. I felt the tendrils of her magic reach into my mind, the sensation all too familiar, and just as terrifying. I scrabbled for some sense of calm, tried to focus, but it was no use.

  The scuttling noise came straight from my nightmares, and a horrifying sense of deja vu turned my blood to ice and froze the breath in my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to look because I knew what I’d see. I could hear furry bodies moving on eight legs, hear the hiss around large fangs.

  “Not real, not real, not real…”

  Not again. She would not do this to me again.

  I reached inside myself for the piece of her energy that stayed with me, the scraps I’d absorbed when I’d defeated her dream shard earlier this year. That energy had turned yesterday’s attack into a two-way street, maybe it could help me now. I gathered that energy to me in a mass of amethyst colored light, let it swell around me like an enormous bubble, pushing back the nightmares crawling all around me. The magic solidified into a shield with an audible pop, and I risked a peek.

  Arianne stood outside the glittering shield, her pale purple and gold veined face twisted into a mocking sneer. “You are stronger now, witchling,” she admitted. “But you are in my realm now. And here, your magic means nothing.” She reached out a finger toward the shield. “Less than nothing.”

  The bubble didn’t pop. It exploded.

  Inward.

  Shards of energy stabbed at me, sliding into my flesh like a thousand slivers of heated metal. I didn’t have the breath to scream, so I fell to the ground in silence, eyes bulging, lips moving as I fought to breathe.

  Arianne grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet as if I were a ragdoll. “Come with me.”

  She dragged me and I blinked away a curtain of pain to notice figments around me, slithering in the air like animated pieces of a cloud.

  “Do you see those shapes?” Arianne asked me, jerking on my arm until I faced the direction she wanted. “This is Roger’s mind. Look at what frightens him.”

  I whimpered and tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t work. The slivers of the shield she’d destroyed still felt stuck in my body, like a thousand splinters as long as my finger. Arianne rolled her eyes and a second later, the sensation vanished, leaving behind only pain.

  I looked where she pointed. One shape was unmistakably centaur, the four equine legs and humanoid upper body impossible to miss. Thin ropes like chains held the beast in place, while a humanoid shape moved around it. Every once in a while, the humanoid figure would draw a hand down the centaur’s body, then move its hand to its mouth. Screams of outrage echoed in my head, horrible, terrifying screams that made me want to cover my ears. A few feet away from the first two figures was a third. Humanoid, but indistinguishable beyond that.

  “That,” Arianne said quietly, “is Stasya and your baobhan sidhe.” She pointed at the second humanoid. “And that is Ian Walsh.”

  “You know as well as I do that those images are too vague.” I winced, the act of speaking almost too painful to continue. “You can’t possibly see enough detail to identify any of them. That third figure is so blurry I can’t even swear if it’s a man or a woman.”

  “You can’t—”

  “And besides,” I continued, raising my voice. “These images would never hold up as evidence. Not when Roger is so near death, not when you have a connection to the accused. You have too much power, they know you could plant these images in Roger’s mi
nd.” I shook my head. “This means nothing.”

  I forced my legs under myself. Pain threatened to curl me into a ball, but I gritted my teeth and force myself to stand so I could look Arianne in the eye. “If you want the truth, then you’re looking at your best chance to get it. Let me go. Let me find real evidence, real proof.”

  “Proof against Aaban and Charbel, you mean,” Arianne snarled.

  “I have no love for the sidhe.” I hesitated. I didn’t think Arianne knew about my contract with Flint. But if she didn’t, I wasn’t going to tell her. “I don’t like Ian, and I don’t trust him. I’m not done with this investigation. I will find the truth, and I won’t stop until I can prove what happened.”

  “You want me to let you go so you can keep gathering lies against my friends.”

  I narrowed my eyes and took a step closer to Arianne, my breath hitching as pain threatened to shatter my lungs. I lifted my chin. “For all your insults, I have to ask. Do you truly believe I would be content with a lie? Is it that you think I’m too easily fooled, or do you think I don’t care about the truth?”

  “I think you are painfully unaware of the ramifications of your actions,” Arianne said evenly. “You might mean well, but you leave devastation in your wake. And I don’t think you’ve even realized it yet.”

  Her words had a chilling ring of sincerity to them, but I shoved those thoughts away. It wouldn’t do me any good to let doubt poison my resolve. Not now.

  “I will let you go, Shade,” Arianne said softly. “But know this. I expect you to find the truth—whatever that may be. But if Aaban and Charbel die as a result of your investigation—if they are saddled with a crime they did not commit…” She leaned closer until her breath caressed my cheeks, and I had to steel myself against the pull of her bottomless silver eyes. “I will pull you back into this world. And you will never wake again.”

  I woke up with a gasp. My body spasmed, every nerve ending screaming. I rolled onto my side. The throbbing in my head threatened to shatter my skull, and for a long minute, I just lay there struggling to breathe.

  It was a bad sign that I didn’t hear Peasblossom screaming at me until she physically pried open one of my eyelids. I choked on a protest and tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t listen. Peasblossom slid down my face and grabbed hold of my ear with both hands.

  “Are you okay? What happened? I told you that was a bad idea! Did you find Jeff? Is he alive? What did he say?”

  “Hurts,” I rasped. I closed my eyes, but that just made my head hurt worse, so I forced them back open.

  Peasblossom’s worried pink face appear two millimeters from my right eye. “You need to use a spell. Heal yourself.”

  I shook my head. “Arianne is beyond angry. Ian is moving in on the ifrits. I need to reserve my energy. I need to find out who’s lying.” I rolled onto my stomach, then dragged my knees under me to push myself off the floor. “We need…to talk…to Jeff.” It was getting harder to speak, so I stopped.

  “Arianne?” Peasblossom squeaked. “Did you say Arianne?” She landed on my shoulder, patting my neck as I circled back to the front door. “What if he’s still unconscious?”

  I shook my head as I forced myself to my feet. “Blackjack woke him up. If he left the dreamworld, then he’s awake.”

  “That raven flew off like a goblin out of an ambulance,” Peasblossom muttered. “It figures he’d save his own and leave you behind with that moody wench.”

  I’d forgotten about Liam until I found myself facing him. The werewolf was standing frozen in the living room just outside the kitchen. But he wasn’t looking at me. His attention was on the front door.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Liam didn’t get the chance to answer. There was a sharp knock, quickly followed by the click of the lock releasing itself. The front door swung open, and a woman stepped inside.

  Eyes a grey so pale they were nearly indistinguishable from the whites of her eyes took in the room, from Dr. Dannon lying on the couch to Liam at the bottom of the stairs, and me in the kitchen doorway. Her white hair brushed the shoulders of her black suit jacket, and her matching skirt fell to mid-thigh on her long legs. Dark red lips spread in a smile as if she were an expected guest among friends. But if the two bodyguards behind her were any indication, she wasn’t here for tea.

  “Hello. I am Illyana. I’m here to pick up Mr. Carter.”

  “What makes you think he’s here?” I asked, ignoring the wheezing quality of my voice.

  The woman’s expression didn’t change. “Please don’t waste time with silly games. You were seen leaving Borvo Springs.”

  They’d likely tracked my phone. Blood and bone, it was almost enough to make me swear off electronics.

  “Mr. Carter is resting,” Liam said calmly. “Perhaps he could call you when he’s feeling up to company?”

  The sorceress took another step into the room. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Mr. Winters will see him now.”

  Chapter 22

  Anton Winters.

  I glanced out the window, noting the sunlight. “Mr. Winters isn’t awake yet. Surely there’s still time to let Mr. Carter rest?”

  Scath appeared at my side, her presence beside me a welcome comfort. I put one hand out, scratching the top of the cat sith’s head as I composed my face into my best witchy look.

  Illyana gave me the look parents gave children right before they explained why they couldn’t have chocolate cake for breakfast. “Mr. Winters’ interest in speaking with Mr. Carter is long-standing. He has left strict instructions that as soon as Mr. Carter’s whereabouts became known, I should immediately go to retrieve him, giving him whatever healing attention is necessary to make him fit for an audience.” She tilted her head, studying Liam for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “You are Detective Sergeant Liam Osbourne, I presume?”

  Liam nodded.

  “He wishes to speak to both you and Ms. Renard as well, if you would be so kind as to grant him an audience?”

  My throat went dry. I didn’t believe for a second my presence was as voluntary as she made it sound. However I didn’t think Anton would be so bold as to demand the alpha of the Rocky River pack drop everything to obey his whim.

  “I would be happy to meet with Mr. Winters when he wakes. But you’ll understand that I can’t come with you now and wait around for dark?” I said, keeping my voice cool and professional. I looked at Liam.

  The werewolf kept his body angled toward the stairs, and I had the semi-hysterical thought that he was trying to make himself a smaller target. “I’ll consider the request. It will largely depend on what else demands my attention tonight.”

  “We’ll tell Mr. Carter you’re here,” I said, taking a step toward the stairs. My heart pounded as I imagined Jeff upstairs. Had he heard our newest guests arrive? Did he understand what was about to happen? I had to talk to him before—

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Illyana’s voice was still friendly, but the energy rolling off the two guards as they shouldered past me was less so. They were both dressed in black jeans, black shirts, and black jackets. The one closest to us was a hulking man, as one would expect a body guard to be, and something about the faint green undertone of his skin made me think he had troll blood in him somewhere. The other guard was shorter than the first, but barrel-chested and meaty in a way that said he could throw me over the house if the urge struck him.

  Liam didn’t move, either to stop them or to get out of their way. I fought to curve my mouth into some semblance of a smile as Illyana followed the first guard up the stairs. The second guard remained with us.

  My body still ached from Arianne’s attack, and all I really wanted to do was lie down until the thought of moving my arms didn’t sound like such a chore. But showing weakness at this point would be a bad idea. So I stood as straight as I could manage and waited for the sorceress to return.

  If I’d had any doubts about the severity of Jeff’s i
njuries, the amount of time it took for the sorceress to heal him dismissed them. It was almost twenty minutes before Blackjack sailed down the stairs like the opposite of a white surrender flag. Beady black eyes watched me as he perched on top of a kitchen cabinet and waited for Illyana and her other werewolf guard to come down with Jeff.

  The ranger looked incredible, especially considering the state he’d been in when we’d arrived. He was wearing pale grey sweatpants with a plain white T-shirt, most likely borrowed from an emergency stash Dr. Dannon had lying around for patients like him. Even if I didn’t have a ‘before’ picture of his condition firmly in my mind, I’d have guessed just how much Illyana had healed him based on her appearance alone. Even her impressive poker face couldn’t hide the exhaustion in the slope of her shoulders, or the sluggishness of her movements. It had cost her to heal him that much so quickly.

  “Jeff,” I said, stepping forward. “I’m pleased you’re feeling better.”

  The ranger paused, studying me with an even sharper look than he had in the dreamworld. “Thank you.”

  His voice suggested he was still cross with me for putting his bird in danger. I bit my lip in frustration. He was never going to listen to me now. And Jeff didn’t look like a man being taken to meet Cleveland’s most notorious undead crime lord. He looked like a man who thought he was an important witness being given a police escort to the courthouse to give testimony.

  My pulse skipped a beat as I realized Jeff didn’t know about the pictures planted at his house. He didn’t know Stasya’s murderer was planning to pin at least some of the crime on him. Didn’t know someone was undermining his credibility.

  I moved before I’d made the conscious decision to do so, stepping into his path, holding eye contact as I inserted myself between him and Anton’s entourage. “Who planted those pictures at your house?”

  “Ms. Renard.” Illyana’s sharp tone betrayed none of the exhaustion I’d seen in her body language. “Please refrain from asking Mr. Carter any questions. Mr. Winters has given strict instructions he is to be the first to question this witness.”