Pushing away from the closet door, I took a few staggering steps and fell when my foot got tangled in the debris littering the floor. My hearing was slowly returning by now, and faintly I could just make out the sound of sirens.
“Dammit!” I snarled, pushing to my feet again. The last thing I needed was to be caught up in several more wasted hours with the police. Willing myself to a somewhat erect posture again, I made my way more carefully out of the bedroom, down the hall toward the living room. But about five feet into the hallway, I stopped. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to.
In front of me was a giant hole. The entirety of Bree’s living room and kitchen were now just open space. As was the apartment below hers. And the one above. I didn’t know if anyone had been in the other two apartments when the explosion occurred, and I really couldn’t wait around to find out. Tic was gone, and I had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten out of the building. In fact, at present, I had no idea how I’d be getting out of the building.
And getting out was a major concern, because those sirens were closing in … fast.
Looking around the massive hole in the side of the building, I decided that the only way out was down, and that meant picking my way across the edge of what was left of the floor and hoping to find a soft spot to land when I jumped.
There wasn’t much below where I stood that looked like it might soften the blow, but then I noticed a couch cushion lying within jumping distance from the far left of the edge of the hallway. Wasting no more time, I went for it, leaping the ten feet down and landing on the cushion with more ease than I would’ve expected. Picking my way across the rest of the destroyed room, I made my way out to the street, where a crowd was already starting to gather.
“Ohmigod!” yelled a woman near me. “Were you in there?”
I shook my head, pulled up the collar on my jacket, and moved away from her. A wave of dizziness caught me off guard, though, and I staggered a little as I went.
“Honey!” she called to me. “Don’t go! You’re hurt!” She pointed to my bloody clothes for emphasis. “You’re probably in shock, but you need to wait here for the paramedics.” She then reached for me, her face a mask of concern.
“I’m fine,” I said, twisting away. But she reached again and latched onto me. In desperation I said, “Listen, I think there’s another bomb in there. We need to get away from this building!”
She let go of me instantly. “Ohmigod!” she cried again, before looking over her shoulder and then breaking into a run. “There’s another bomb!” she screamed as she ran. “Everybody! Get clear!”
The crowd of fifteen or so took off like a herd of lemmings, dashing forward, and swallowing me up in their wake. I started to trot with them for about fifteen or twenty meters before I reached my car, stopped, and got in.
In front of me were the strobe lights of a dozen emergency vehicles quickly approaching, and I waited until they’d passed by my car before starting the engine and pulling away from the curb, purposely keeping the headlights on the car off until I was well down the street.
Rounding the first corner I came to, I pulled over and shrugged out of the white T-shirt I wore under my black leather jacket. The shirt was wet and sticky with blood, but I managed to find a clean corner of it and used the fabric with a little water from a bottle I had in the car to wash the worst of the blood off my face and hands. Throwing the T-shirt in the back seat, I zipped up my jacket and then pulled away from the curb again, zigzagging a few blocks over from the scene until I got to the highway and made my way quickly back to the warehouse, wondering the whole time what the fuck I’d gotten myself into now.
Chapter Seven
Day 2
“What the fuck did you get yourself into now?” Dex barked the second he laid eyes on me.
His reaction suggested I probably didn’t look my usual glamorous self.
“Hey,” I said, moving past him into the kitchen. I was thirsty as hell. And not for water.
Ember was at my side from the moment I entered the warehouse. She leaned against me as I reached for a glass tumbler and the bottle of twelve-year-old Lagavulin single-malt scotch we keep on hand for things such as entertaining important guests, big celebrations, and really, really, really bad days—like today.
And yesterday.
And probably tomorrow.
Twisting off the cap, I poured a very generous two fingers into the tumbler and eyed Dex like I double-dog-dared him to protest.
His initial alarm transformed to surrender. Palms up, he said, “Cheers, mate.”
I tilted the glass toward him in silent toast and downed the contents. The aged liquid filled my nose with an aroma of sweet fruit and peppercorn before it glided across my tongue, dancing with notes of citrus and smoke. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the taste and feel of the heat the brew incited. Sweet Jesus, I loved the stuff.
“Ez,” Dex said softly. “Talk to me.”
Opening my eyes with a sigh and thinking that I might need another two fingers to get through this conversation, my gaze lingered on the Lagavulin. I was undecided about tempting my currently fairly clear head into inebriation.
With another sigh, I lifted the cap to the bottle and secured it in place. Two fingers of liquid gold would have to do for tonight.
Moving around the island, I pulled out a chair next to Dex, took a seat, and began my tale. “Tic was at his girlfriend’s place. He was in a bad way. Before I could release him, there was an explosion.”
“What kind of explosion? Like a bomb? Or a gas leak?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it was either. There was no fire. No smoke. Just a buildup of energy and then … boom!”
“From a mystic?” Dex asked.
“Undoubtedly. It obliterated Bree’s apartment, and Bree, for that matter.”
“What happened to Tic?”
Again, I shook my head. “He had a nasty piece of wood sticking out from under his collarbone the last time I saw him. I was able to release him from the spell right before I passed out.”
“Where is he? Is he dead?”
“I have no idea. When I woke up, he was gone, and in his place was what was left of Bree. The bed was soaked with blood; I’m pretty sure it was Tic’s. I have no idea if he survived or where he is, but no way did he leave on his own power. And given the state of that apartment, it’s hard for me to imagine how somebody could’ve gotten him out of there in the two or three minutes that I was unconscious.”
Dex’s face was a mask of alarm. “You’re telling me that Marco Sigourney Astoré—Petra’s only son—has been mortally wounded and removed from the site of an explosion, and you have no idea if he’s dead or alive or where he might be?”
I tucked a lock of hair back behind my ear. My fingers came away tinged in red. I wasn’t even sure if it was Tic’s blood or mine. “Yes, that’s what I’m telling you.”
“Did anyone see you there?”
I rubbed my temples as it began to dawn on me how much shit I was in. “Plenty of people.”
“Bloody hell, Esmé!” Dex hissed. “We’re in the shit now, given who his mother is.”
“After the day I’ve had, Dex, I’d say that’s probably the least of my worries.”
Dex shook his head, and I knew him well enough to know he was thinking up ideas for an exit strategy. But there weren’t any exits for us. At least not for me. It was, I guess, knowing this that made me say, “You should consider heading home.”
Dex cocked his head. “What?”
I tried keeping the tremor out of my voice, but I couldn’t. “I think it might be best if you packed your gear and got on the first plane back to Oz.”
Dex squinted at me, and I could see the anger in his eyes when he replied, “I think you took a bigger hit to the noggin tonight than you might realize if you think I’m going to cut out on you, Ezzy.”
I swallowed hard and stared longingly at the bottle of Lagavulin again. “You know I’m right
,” I insisted.
“I know you’re talking like a nong if you think I’ll squib out just because you’re having yourself one helluva Moanday, Esmé Bellerose.”
That got me to smile. But it was short-lived. “The odds are getting shorter and shorter that I’ll survive this.”
Dex crossed his arms and spread his feet wide in a stubborn stance. “Still doesn’t make me want to pack my gear and leave you.”
I nodded solemnly and laid my head down on the counter. I heard a rustle at my feet and felt Ember’s warm weight against my shins. Almost immediately my headache eased. Still, I was exhausted from all the stress of the past two days. “I don’t even know how this got so complicated,” I admitted. “Someone got to the egg before me, killed Grigori, and I’m left holding the bag for it. Then someone blew Bree and her apartment to kingdom come and likely murdered Tic, and again, I very well could be left holding the bag for it.”
“You think they’re related?” Dex asked me.
I lifted my head from the counter. Dex had asked the one question that’d been bothering me the whole way back from Bree’s apartment. “It’s too big of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Seems like it,” he said gravely. “Except that Grigori and his dinner guests were carved up, while Bree’s apartment was blown up and Tic was taken from the scene. Different method and different magic usually mean different mystics.”
“That’s true,” I said, considering the point, before adding, “The magic used to blow up Bree’s apartment like that was insanely intense. I swear it was on a level of someone like Petra or Elric. Maybe Jacquelyn could’ve managed it too.”
“There’re probably three or four others in this town who’re as strong as Jacquelyn,” Dex pointed out. “There’s Clepsydra, she’s definitely as powerful as Jacquelyn and then there’s Petra’s new lieutenant.”
I frowned. “Petra has a new lieutenant?”
“She does. Calls himself ‘the Flayer.’” Dex rolled his eyes for effect.
“He sounds nice,” I quipped. “Maybe we should invite him over for brunch.”
Dex chuckled. “My point is that you don’t rise to the level of lieutenant without some mad skills.”
“Agreed, but Dex, both of them work for Petra.”
“Maybe Mumsy ordered the hit.”
I shook my head. Petra was certainly capable of killing her own son without a single regret, but I suspected she liked flaunting him in front of Elric too much to get rid of him. Still, I had to at least consider the possibility that Mommy Dearest was behind the explosion. “If Petra wanted to make it look like Tic was murdered, she’d make damn sure it looked like Elric had done it.”
“Or someone who worked for him,” Dex said, pointing at me.
I sighed and shook my head again. It didn’t make sense for the hit to come from her. “If Petra even knows who I am, and knows that I’m working for Elric, then she’d also know that I’m on probation. Killing Tic would be something Elric would assign to one of his own lieutenants, not to a lowly new employee like me, and for sure Petra would’ve thought that through.”
“True,” Dex said. “But I still say two mystics violently murdered and another one abducted within a forty-eight-hour period is too big of a coincidence to ignore.”
“I agree, but right now I can’t focus on Tic. If I want to live past Saturday night, I have to keep my head in the game and focus on the prize.”
“The egg,” he said.
“Yes. And that’s where this new association with Kincaid might help us.”
Dex nodded, he could see the advantage now too. “All right, so where do we start?”
I rubbed my temples and noted that I no longer had a headache. Ember’s presence against my legs was healing me quickly, thank God. “Well,” I said. “The place to start is probably by seeing what Grigori has to say.”
“Luv,” Dex said with a side grin. “He’s dead. He won’t be able to tell you anything.”
“Oh, really? I bet you’re wrong.”
“How’s that?”
“He’s no doubt been taken to the morgue, right?”
“Likely,” Dex agreed.
“And the mortals will be conducting an autopsy …”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, as far as we know, the egg only brings a person back to life and heals what’s either killed or is killing them. But it doesn’t completely erase the scars of those injuries, right?”
Dex wiped his face with his hand impatiently. “I’m still not following you.”
“We know that Rasputin used the egg twice for Alexi, and then maybe three more times to recover from the poisoning, stabbing, and bludgeoning done to him by the tsar’s cousin, before they ripped off his coat where he’d hidden the egg, shot him and tossed his body into the river, which takes the egg’s uses down to seven. Any additionally healed life-threatening injuries the ME finds would tell us about the remaining power of the egg.”
“And his first autopsy takes the egg down to six,” Dex said with a shudder.
I made a face, remembering that story. While undergoing an autopsy, Grigori’s coat, hiding the egg, had been recovered from the bridge where his dead body had been tossed into the Neva River. The coat was brought to the morgue and set on a table next to the mystic, and it was that very fortunate act that had brought him back to life. Supposedly Grigori had come back to life while the coroner was weighing his liver, and the poor doctor had been so undone by the incident that he’d spent the rest of his life in a sanitarium.
“Right. Which means the egg could be down to six uses or less.”
“He’ll be the only man in history to have two autopsies,” Dex said. “But I see where you’re going with this. Count the scars, count the number of lives the egg has left to save.”
“Exactly. And even if, at some subsequent point in the past hundred years, Grigori used the egg to thwart off another poisoning, or some illness like pneumonia, we probably won’t be able to see that in the report, but anything else should have left a physical trace, and if the physically mortal wounds add up to ten or eleven, then we should consider that the egg might be useless. It could already be dust.”
Dex’s expression was grave. “That would be very bad news for us.”
“It’d be very bad news for me, my friend. You would continue to draw breath. You’d just need to do it far away from here.”
Dex shook his head. “Don’t know what I have to do to convince you that life without you isn’t much of a life, luv.”
That broke my heart a little, and I could feel myself getting choked up, so I swallowed hard and waited until I could speak without my voice cracking. “It’s what we agreed to, D.”
“Yeah, I know, and I’d take Ember and head home to Oz, but it still wouldn’t be much of a life.”
I reached out and laid my hand on top of his. “We’ve had some fun, haven’t we?”
He grinned, but there was so much sadness in his eyes. “No one I’d rather be thieving and scheming with than you, Ezzy.”
“Ditto.”
“Right,” Dex said, giving my hand a squeeze. “Tonight, let’s think positive and assume the egg’s got some offerings left to give, and that it’s out there somewhere. You’ll be getting the autopsy report from Kincaid, I assume?”
“Yes. We’re going to meet tomorrow—” I turned to look at the clock on the stove. “Correction, today, and swap information to develop some leads.”
“Do we need to wait until then?” Dex asked. “Seems to me like a murder investigation’s a bit like what we do when we select a new target. We dig into their life, find out as much as we can about them, and use it to our advantage.”
I nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking. Obviously we’re not going to be following Grigori around to study his habits, but Tic already did some of that heavy lifting for us.” I told Dex about how the Russian used to play cards and have a cup of tea at the Empress Lounge. “Maybe you can use those Aussie good looks and all
that beefcake at the Empress Lounge to gain us some intel on who Grigori might’ve taken tea with. Or who he played cards with.”
Dex grinned back and flexed one arm. “I’ll wear my tightest T-shirt,” he promised.
I laughed and shook my head. “Those poor waitresses. Oh, but you should wear that black T with the yellow script on it.” I had to make sure Dex didn’t go for one of the neon yellow shirts he loved to wear. The color, which was way too loud for the Empress, also washed him out and made him look a little less charming.
“Right,” he said, winking at me. He knew. “Maybe while I’m in the city I’ll put my ear to the ground to see if anyone’s heard about what might’ve happened to Tic.”
I pointed at him. “That’s a great idea. The explosion was either connected to this whole mess with Grigori and we’ve got someone new to be nervous about, or it was all on Tic and I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Dex jotted himself a note on his phone. “Got it. I’ll work that angle while you work the detective.”
I sighed. “This is one time I really wish we could trade places.”
Dex smiled slyly. “He’s a charmer, is he?”
“He might be able to charm his way out of brown paper bag, but I suspect he’d be winded from the effort.”
Dex laughed. “Any attraction?” he asked carefully.
“You know I only have eyes for you.”
Dex looked skyward and placed his hand over his heart melodramatically. “If only.”
I sighed. It was a joke we tossed back and forth quite often, but the truth was we both wanted nothing more than for me to feel for Dex what he so obviously felt for me. To spare his feelings, I said, “No attraction for the man whatsoever. He’s pretty but not my type.”
“As in, he’d be perfect for you.”
“Oh, I think he’d bore me to tears, my friend.”
I could see my words had a pleasing effect. At least they seemed to mollify Dex’s fears that I’d leave him for another man. No chance of that happening, I told myself. With significant effort, I’d learned to somewhat control the worst aspects of my binding curse so that I could focus on getting the job with Elric’s organization, but it’d often required me to pack up and leave town when my feelings started to get away from me.
SPELL TO UNBIND, A Page 11
