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Darkness Unveiled

Page 2

by Emerson Knight


  Her office was a private continuation of the gallery, complete with original artwork overlooking a pair of hand-carved wooden chairs next to a tea table, an elegant chaise couch, and an antique writing table with an old-fashioned pen and inkwell. I followed her lead as she sat at the table, sitting across from her as she poured our tea.

  “Is Josh in trouble?” she asked casually—too casually.

  I firmly regretted showing my frustration, but the door was open and I felt my exasperation pouring out. “He never listens to me.”

  She met my regard with a seemingly passive expression, but I recognized the slight crinkle in the corners of her eyes. She was protective of my brother. We both were, but in different ways. If she judged me, she said nothing, creating a void of silence. I knew the tactic well, having learned it from her. At times, even I couldn’t resist filling that void. “My brother is determined to make his life as difficult as possible. He is an escape artist, and everything in his life—magic, relationships, even managing the club—exists purely to generate situations for him to escape from.” “What’s he done now?” I expected, but she only sipped her tea, waiting patiently for me to continue, and I obliged. Having started, I felt a need to clarify.

  “He’s obsessed with dark magic. He’s using Sky to obtain it, and he doesn’t even know why he wants it; it’s just power to him. His quest has led to a number of highly visible disasters.” To the rest of the world, magic and werewolves were the stuff of nightmares and legends. The pack thrived under that cloak of disbelief.

  “Has anyone been hurt?” she asked.

  “Not yet, but he’s putting Sky at risk, and he’s drawing attention to himself, and to the pack.”

  “I see.” She sipped her tea thoughtfully. When she gently set her cup back onto its saucer, she remained silent, waiting with a neutral, motherly expression for me to continue.

  “His ability to negotiate himself out of trouble is waning. If he doesn’t get control of himself soon, he’ll create a problem that he cannot escape. He’ll shine a light in places that should remain dark.”

  She smiled. “I’ve often marveled at how different you two are. But it’s not an accident that when it comes to control, Josh is your exact opposite.”

  My eyes widened at her rebuke. “You think I’m to blame for my brother’s recklessness?”

  My godmother laid a gloved hand over mine as she held my gaze. “Of course not. He’s a grown man, Ethan.”

  “If he would just listen to me, just once, I could save him a lot of trouble.”

  “But you can’t live his life for him. Look out for him, if you must—that’s your way—but you can’t make his decisions for him. Every time you try to steer him from trouble, Josh swerves toward it. You have the best of intentions, Ethan, but I don’t see that your efforts are helping him. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  I sat back in my chair, gaping at my godmother until I remembered to close my mouth. She lightly patted my hand before wrapping the fingers of both her hands around her teacup. After reassuring me with her warm smile, she glanced out the office window.

  “It’s been lovely to visit with you, dear. There are more patrons who require my attention.”

  “Of course,” I said, rising. As a token of respect and affection, I offered her my hand. She took it gracefully, accepting my perfunctory assistance as she came to her feet.

  “Are you available for brunch this Sunday?” she asked.

  “I will rearrange my plans.”

  “Not necessary. Coordinate with Josh and we’ll arrange another time. I’d love to have you two together.”

  “Of course,” I said, hiding my irritation. If Josh had been available as well, would she have accepted my offer then?

  “Invite Skylar, if you like. I am growing quite fond of her.”

  I nodded and opened the office door for her, following her out.

  The drive to the pack’s retreat seemed long as I pondered Claudia’s advice. I couldn’t accept allowing my brother to make mistakes that could be easily avoided with timely advice, but I wasn’t in the habit of ignoring my godmother’s insights. When I finally turned onto the hidden, private road that snaked through the woods toward the pack’s retreat, my frustration was stronger than ever.

  The retreat was a home away from home for pack members, a three-story brick mansion hidden from view on three hundred acres of wooded land that afforded us total privacy. The boundaries of the property were fenced, deterring all but the most determined intruder—typically a hunter looking to poach our wealth of wild game. On those rare occasions, we made sure the intruder never came back. The land provided us with security, a safe place to hunt and exercise our animal nature without concern of being hunted. In more troubled times, Josh’s magical field shielded the house from even our greatest enemies.

  I parked the Audi in the garage.

  Winter emerged from the house as I approached. Judging by her professional attire, she had dropped in directly from her job as an HR manager in an up-and-coming tech company based out of Chicago. Judging by her pace, she wasn’t in a particular hurry. She was statuesque, with long straight black hair and flawless sun-kissed skin. Compared to most were-animals, she was small, but looks were deceiving. Most misjudged her, and Winter made them pay. She was our third, and one of the best fighters in the pack.

  As we approached each other, I gestured to the faint yellow remains of a blackened left eye. “Sky?” I smiled. Winter had been Sebastian’s choice to train her to fight, over my objection. When I’d first brought Sky to the retreat, she’d been targeted by Demetrius, the Master of the Northern Seethe. He’d intended to use her along with the Gem of Levage in a ritual that would have forever freed the vampires from the constraint of the sun. Some of the pack had seen her very existence as a threat—Winter and Gavin among them. Despite Sebastian’s orders that Sky was to be unharmed, it would’ve been a simple task for Winter to arrange a training accident, something she couldn’t be blamed for. As an instructor, she was ruthless, but Sky had proven herself up to the task.

  “I let her give me a black eye,” Winter confessed.

  I grinned. “That was nice of you.”

  “I figured I’d beaten her butt enough, I should give her a reward. She was supposed to break my nose. Now that she knows she can do some damage, she’s holding back.”

  Pack life was dangerous. We trained hard because we fought hard. If Sky was holding back now, she would instinctively hold back in an actual battle, which might get her killed.

  “You’ll have to piss her off,” I suggested, drawing a mischievous grin from Winter.

  “I think I can manage that. She can hold her own, Ethan. She needs to continue training, but she’s not the helpless pup you initially brought to us.”

  “I must be talking to the wrong Winter, because that sounded like respect.”

  “Barely,” she insisted, glancing at her nails. “She has a way of growing on you. Like a fungus. Admittedly, she has changed the minds of others. Her chances of being accidentally killed by a pack member are significantly down from this time last year.”

  I grunted. “Gavin?”

  She scowled. “Once he’s got a target in his sights, he completes the hunt. In his mind, he has the right to kill her since she’s not a pack member. He blames you and Sebastian for getting in his way.”

  “I know what he blames me for.”

  “He might challenge you.”

  “He’s welcome to try.”

  I strode into the retreat, leaving her behind. Just inside, I found Gavin leaning back against a wall, his arms folded over his chest, glowering at me with menacing gray eyes. He was slim and graceful, befitting his were-panther, with tawny skin and a hollow, stern look. In the pack hierarchy, he was after Winter and before Steven. He was a transfer from the East Coast Pack, a skilled hunter and one of our best fighters, but he came with a chip on his shoulder. When it came to me, that chip had become a mountain.

  He jerked his
head toward the office. “Sebastian wants you.”

  Gavin followed me into the office, closing the door behind us. Sebastian rose and came out from behind his desk. As a rule, he never discussed serious matters from behind his desk; for him, that was a gross, impotent attempt at expressing power. He didn’t need a symbol, or a shield.

  “How did it go with Josh?”

  I tensed. “He understands the situation.”

  “He blew up his condo,” Gavin said derisively, his Brooklyn accent prevalent.

  Word travels fast. We had contacts in the vicinity of the club who called in anything unusual. I ignored him, keeping my attention focused on Sebastian. “He agreed to limit his training of Skylar.”

  “And the club?”

  “We addressed the situation,” I said tersely. “I will address it further, if necessary.”

  Sebastian gave a single nod, then changed the subject. “It’s time for Skylar to make a decision.”

  “Good,” Gavin said. I agreed with him but wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. His motives and mine were not the same. Once the offer was rejected, he assumed that Sebastian would lift Sky’s protection, but he was wrong if he thought I wasn’t going to stop him from harming her.

  “You’re giving her an ultimatum,” I said. She’d had a year to make up her mind, which reflected unprecedented patience on Sebastian’s part.

  “Soon. We all know how Skylar reacts to being backed into a corner.”

  Gavin’s sigh was almost blatant—just enough to avoid rebuke.

  Sebastian continued. “Up to now, she has enjoyed the friendship of the pack. I’ve instructed Winter and Steven to begin to pull back from her. We will give her a short amount of time to measure the absence of the benefits of pack membership before I require a decision from her.”

  “I don’t get it.” Gavin shook his head. “We’re talking about our value to her, like she’s a prize. What value can she possibly provide to the pack?”

  My fists clenched as I fought back the urge to defend her to Gavin. I chose my words carefully. “She’s had a year to consider her options. I think we have her answer.”

  Sebastian addressed Gavin’s concerns first. “She has unique magical abilities. According to Josh, if her talents are properly trained, her value could be immeasurable.”

  He was right, of course, which was why I didn’t want Josh to train her. The stronger she became, the more attention she would attract. “I don’t think she’s suited to pack life,” I said. Sky wanted normalcy—something pack life could never provide.

  “I think she’s capable of deciding that for herself,” Sebastian countered. “The reality is that someone with her abilities will always be vulnerable to someone or something that craves power. We can offer her protection, security, and family. Without the pack, she’ll always be looking over her shoulder, and I’m not sure she understands that.”

  “That makes her a threat,” Gavin insisted. “Why take the risk at all?”

  “If she declines,” Sebastian explained to me carefully, “we will be obliged to watch over her.”

  If she falls into the wrong hands and becomes a threat, we’ll have to handle her as one, he meant. But she could live the life she wanted—I was convinced. I would make sure of that.

  Sebastian straightened. “My decision is made,” he informed Gavin with a dismissive look. The were-panther’s scowl deepened as he looked to me, then left the office. Sebastian gestured for me to remain.

  “Ethan, I know you want what’s best for Skylar. There is some issue between you two that I suspect is giving her pause about joining us. If there is anything you can do to remove that barrier, you should try.”

  “Why does she need to join the pack when she’s practically living with one of its members?” I blurted.

  Sebastian smiled. “I take it you are referring to Steven. They seem to share a consanguineous relationship.”

  “His instructions were to keep an eye on her. Now half his apartment is strewn haphazardly about her home. He has a key and comes and goes as if he lives there. I find his behavior disrespectful. Don’t you?”

  “I’m fine with it.” He shrugged, offering me an amused grin. “But you don’t seem to be.”

  I scowled. Not much got past Sebastian, and I didn’t like being assessed. My personal feelings aside, Steven’s relationship with Sky was inappropriate. Josh’s relationship with her was worse—he wasn’t just flirting with her, he was putting her at risk. I realized that this discussion, while necessary, wasn’t going to lead anywhere. I quietly left the office with my jaw firmly clenched.

  CHAPTER 2

  Three days later, I took the scheduled Skype call from home, my tablet propped onto the kitchen counter. I had met Soraia Queiroz once before, when I’d scheduled the one-on-one training session. She was a freelance language instructor who taught from wherever she happened to be in the world. At the moment, she was connecting from a small village on the coast of southern Spain. She spoke six languages fluently, but my only interest was her native tongue, Portuguese.

  “Boa tarde,” she said cheerfully, her bright smile broad and perfect. “Good afternoon, Mr. Charleston.” Her skin was flawless, and she had rosy high cheekbones, a petite nose, and long black lashes that matched her dark eyes. Her long black curls gently flowed over her shoulders, framed in the background by a pair of almond trees.

  “Ethan,” I said.

  “Sim. Yes. Okay. Well, shall we start?”

  “I am ready.”

  “I will give you a phrase. Repeat it back to me, and I will correct you. So, we begin with something very useful: Aonde e o quarto-de-banho. ‘Where is the bathroom?’ Now it’s your turn, Ethan.”

  I frowned and glanced at my watch, wondering if I had made a mistake.

  “Aonde e o quarto-de-banho?” she repeated, meticulously pronouncing the syllables.

  I repeated the phrase with little enthusiasm, which she noticed.

  “Ethan, perhaps you would like to try a different phrase. You did not say that you were learning Portuguese for a specific reason, but sometimes a person wants to learn to speak to, or get closer to, another person. A woman, perhaps? If that’s the case, I can teach you more specific phrases.”

  When Skylar was growing up, her adopted mother had insisted that she learn Portuguese, the language of her birth mother. She could be stubborn and difficult to communicate with. I had thought it might improve our communication if I could speak to her in her familial language, but I was having second thoughts.

  Soraia took my discomfort as a confession. “Perhaps you would like to learn to say, ‘Você é muito bonito?’ ‘You are very beautiful.’” She beamed prettily. “Is there anything specific you would like to say to your girl?”

  “Yes,” I said, thinking. “‘Are you injured?’”

  Her smile froze in place awkwardly. “Are you sure there is not something else you would like to say?”

  She’s right. Get straight to the point. “‘Where are you injured?’”

  Before Soraia could react, my phone vibrated. A glance at the screen revealed the call was from Marko. He was the pack’s sixth, after Steven. “My apologies, Ms. Queiroz. I must take this call. I understand that I am still on the clock. One moment, please.” I muted our Skype call, cutting off her reply, and answered my phone.

  “He’s in,” Marko said. “He showed up with a bottle of whiskey and lunch, so I’d say he’s going to be here awhile.”

  I grunted. “What kind of whiskey?”

  “He wears a Casio watch, so I’m guessing …” his voice trailed off.

  He’s probably settling in for the afternoon. I glanced at the clock on my phone. “I’m on my way.” I killed the call and un-muted Soraia. “I have to leave. You may bill me for the entire session. I will contact you to reschedule.”

  I grabbed my keys and wallet from the island counter, stuffed an envelope from my desk into the inside pocket of my suit jacket, and then left, opting for my SUV
.

  A short time later, I parked on North Ashland Avenue, just outside a nondescript, tan brick commercial building. Between the laundromat and the dry cleaners was an unmarked door. Marko emerged from the laundromat to meet me. He was tall and lean and severe, with short brown hair and thick eyebrows that hid his intense brown eyes. Originally from Finland, Marko maintained his accent. This wasn’t pack business. He’d come willingly, and I trusted him because he knew not to ask questions.

  “Still upstairs,” he said as I approached. “You should know, he carries a pistol in his left shoulder holster. He doesn’t seem to do much business. I imagine he’s up there drinking his sorrows.” Marko had been tracking the detective for the past week—longer than necessary, but I preferred to be thorough.

  I shook my head at Skylar’s choice. She needed to be more careful.

  Marko hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the building. “You want me to—”

  “Wait here,” I said, and then entered the building. The door led to a dark, dirty, narrow stairway that smelled of mold. The next floor was a row of offices. From the looks of it, not much happened here in the daytime. Eventually, I found a door to my right, labeled “Dennis McDuffy, P.I.” I opened the door without knocking, catching Dennis by obvious surprise. He looked up from a Styrofoam takeaway container of noodles. It took him just a moment to decide I wasn’t a customer. His heart leapt in fear, then quickly slowed as he brought it under control. He leaned back in his chair, drawing his right hand to his belly—closer to his pistol bulging slightly under his jacket.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice friendly, but cautious.

  I made a point to straighten my scowl. Knowing Dennis was nervous was useful, but I didn’t want him on edge. Not yet. “I need a private investigator.”

  He relaxed, drawing his hand away from his weapon. “My apologies. You have an intimidating look about you,” he said as he covered his lunch with a horse racing sheet, then pushed the two aside, trying to clear some space. “What can I do for you?”

 

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