“I have no idea, but it wouldn’t be the first time Finn came sniffing around my desk. Usually it’s because there’s something in it for Petra, so it’s likely that’s why.”
“Oh, shit,” I said.
“What?”
“I told your brother about my association with Tic.”
“Tic?”
“The source who told me where to find Grigori. Last night he was at his girlfriend’s apartment when it exploded.”
“The one off Seminary.”
“Yes. That’s the one.”
“Why would my brother care?”
“Tic is a nickname. His given name is Marco Astoré. You may have heard of his mommy dearest. Your brother works for her.”
Kincaid gaped at me. “Astoré is Petra’s kid?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Shit,” Kincaid said. “Is he okay?”
“Doubtful,” I said grimly. “His girlfriend definitely didn’t survive.”
“Where is he now?”
“I have no idea.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I have no idea. The last time I saw Marco, he had a giant piece of wood sticking out from under his collarbone, and then I blacked out. When I came to, he was gone, and his girlfriend’s torso was in his place.”
“Jesus,” Kincaid said. “I heard one of the vics was found in pieces. Could Tic have walked out of there?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“So someone took him.”
“Definitely yes.”
“And left you,” Kincaid said, pointing to me for emphasis.
I nodded.
Kincaid ran his hand through his hair in a worried gesture. “So Petra’s kid was in an explosion, badly wounded, and is now missing. That’d be enough to lure Finn into snooping around my desk. The explosion involved mortals, and he knew he could get info on it by impersonating me.”
I felt another jolt of alarm. “When you called me earlier, you said that you had a report that identified a suspicious person leaving the scene who resembled me.”
“Yeah. The report was on my desk this morning. I wondered why it was there—the case has already been assigned to another detective, but now I think that Finn pulled it from the network when he went to the station to snoop around.”
I leaned my head against the back of the booth and closed my eyes. “So Finn knows that I was there.”
I heard Kincaid hiss in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, he probably does.”
We sat in silence for a minute or two when Kincaid said, “But hey, you also told me you met him at Big Mike’s, right? And he let you live, so how did you talk your way out of there?”
“I didn’t. I just … left.”
“You just left?”
“Yep.”
“And he let you go?”
“He did. Of course, I left rather abruptly. He probably didn’t even register that it was me before I ran outta there.”
“Why didn’t you speak to him?”
“I wasn’t feelin’ it,” I said, careful not to reveal the real reason. “Something felt off.”
Kincaid sighed heavily. “We’re gonna need to speed up the timetable. If Finn gets to you before we complete the ceremony, he’ll have two reasons to kill you.”
“Like he needs more than one,” I scoffed. “Which reminds me, you’ll need to pick up a gift for me. It’s part of the ceremon—”
“I’ve already picked out a token,” he said.
I blinked. “When did you have time for that?”
“When my brother was busy impersonating me,” he said.
I frowned. No way could he have gotten anything good in the middle of the night from the mystic market. The place was open 24/7, but only the good venders showed up during the day. The night was for paupers and peddlers of mostly trinket throwaways, so his selection was likely to be the most valuable trinket from a pile of crap.
“Great,” I said woodenly, not even trying to hide my disappointment. “That’s just great.”
“It’s not a piece of junk,” Kincaid snapped, and I could tell he was offended.
I eyed him moodily, miffed that he’d rushed the process. Protégé’s were supposed to take great care with the gift-selection process. Mentoring a newbie was a royal pain in the ass, and the gift was intended to make the task a bit more palatable. “If you got it from the market last night or early this morning, it’s not likely to be a treasure, Kincaid.”
“It’s a good gift, Esmé,” he insisted. “I got it from the same place I got the one for Grigori, and believe me when I tell you that it was a place of top quality.”
My brow furrowed. “What’d you do with the trinket you were going to give to Grigori?”
“I gave it to him.”
I shook my head. “Hold on, you gave it to him? Before the ceremony?”
Kincaid shrugged, but I could tell he was embarrassed for being called out for such a novice act. “I wanted to show him I was serious, and I hoped it’d prevent him from backing out of our deal. Besides, we were scheduled to do the ceremony the day I found you, breaking and entering.”
“Ah,” I said, making a face as I recalled the grisly scene.
“How soon can you be ready to do the ceremony?” Kincaid asked next, glancing at his watch.
“As soon as you are, but first we’ll need a safe space to conduct the ceremony.”
“What about your place?”
“No. My place is out.”
“Why?”
“Because where I live is a coveted secret, and I don’t trust you enough yet to allow you entrance. We can do it at your place.”
“Nope,” Kincaid said quickly.
“Why not?”
“Same reason as yours.”
“Then it seems we’ll need to postpone the ceremony until one of us finds a safe and secure place.”
Kincaid rolled his eyes. “I know a place. It’s private, secure, and there’s no risk of being interrupted.”
“Where is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I sighed dramatically. This guy was a lot of work, and I didn’t have time for it. “You’re really starting to be more of a pain in the ass than you’re worth, Kincaid,” I growled.
“Esmé, I swear I can’t tell you. But I can pick you up and bring you there.”
“Fine,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. There was definitely a headache forming behind my eyes. “I’ll just need to pick up a few things from my place, and I can meet you back here in an hour.”
I started to get up, but Kincaid seemed nervous about letting me out of his sight, and he reached out to grab my wrist. “What do you need to pick up?”
I glared down at his hand on my wrist, and he wisely let go. “We’ll need a knife, preferably one carved from jade, a quill with a silver tip, parchment, and beeswax candles,” I said.
“I’ve got all of that.”
I eyed him keenly. “Let me guess, you had a kit ready to go for the ceremony day with Grigori.”
“Yes.”
I folded my napkin and set it on the table. “Then we should get a move on. And remember to tip Gert generously when you pay the tab.”
With that I moseyed out of the bar and waited for Kincaid next to his SUV.
He came out a few minutes later, wearing a rueful smile. “You’re lucky I had cash on me,” he said, using his key fob to unlock the door.
“No, no,” I sang. “You’re lucky.”
Gert didn’t accept credit cards and would’ve made him work off breakfast, which I highly doubted would’ve involved washing dishes.
Chapter Nine
Day 2
We got into Kincaid’s vehicle and headed due west. About ten minutes into the drive Kincaid pulled over to the side of the street, opened up the center console, reached inside to withdraw a sleep mask, which he offered to me and said, “I need you to put this on.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“
No.”
I turned away from him and opened the car door. I’d walk back to Gert’s before I spent one more second with this massively obtuse idiot.
Kincaid reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip tight. “Please,” he said. I glared at him. He sighed and added, “I can’t reveal where we’re going to you. I can’t reveal the location to anyone. I’m bound to secrecy.”
I growled low in my throat. It was totally understandable that Kincaid might be unable to bring me into a magically protected space unless I was blindfolded, but the part of me that’s been clawing for survival in a dangerous world of mayhem and monsters was against going anywhere I was unable to see my surroundings and an escape route. So I continued to hesitate.
“I swear, nothing bad will happen to you,” Kincaid said, his expression earnest. The son of a bitch.
I rolled my eyes, closed the door and snatched the mask from his fingers. “Fine.” Putting it over my eyes, I flattened my back against the seat and concentrated on listening and memorizing any turns that put us on a different path.
I might not be able to see where we were going, but I sure as hell was going to work hard to memorize the path back.
After four rights and two lefts, we entered what sounded like a large-scale garage area. Kincaid’s car sounded like it was in a tunnel, and then we sloped downward, no doubt heading for the lower levels. Two more sharp turns to the left, and then another to the right brought us to a stop. “Sit tight for a minute,” Kincaid whispered. “And promise me you won’t take off the mask.”
I held up two fingers in an “I promise” gesture.
He chuckled. “I might be unmentored, Esmé, but I know enough to know that without you vowing it, you’ll rip off that mask the second you think I’m out of sight.”
I shook my head. Damn this irritating little pissant! He knew just enough to be a total pain in my ass. “Fiiiine. I prom—” Kincaid grabbed my hand and held it tight. I sighed. “I promise not to remove your stupid, ridiculous, unnecessary mask.”
Warmth snaked its way from my palm all the way up my arm and feathered out across my torso as the promise became bound.
“Thanks,” Kincaid said, letting go of me.
I heard the door open and close, and then I waited for what I guessed was about five minutes, maybe a little longer. My door was then opened, and Kincaid said, “Okay, we’re good. Take my hand and I’ll lead you.”
I wanted to grouse about all the theatrics involved in getting to this secret location, but I highly doubted that would help get the sleep mask off any sooner, so I reached out and felt Kincaid’s hand, then obediently exited the SUV and allowed him to lead me forward until he stopped and swiveled me around to face the other way. A moment later I heard a bing that I quickly realized was an elevator, and my stomach felt fluttery as we ascended to what must have been the length of several stories. The elevator stopped abruptly, and the bell above the doors binged again, then the doors rattled open and Kincaid said, “This way.”
He led me out of the boxcar and into a cozy warm space that smelled of musk and cedar.
We continued to walk forward a good ten feet, our footfalls echoing against wood floors, until finally we stopped, and Kincaid lifted the mask away from my eyes.
I blinked in the sudden brightness, but after my eyes adjusted, I discovered that we were in a lavishly decorated apartment, heavy on the dark trim and gray furnishings but impeccably kept all the same.
The kitchen was just off to my right, and in front of me was a large living room with a giant flat-screen TV, with small speakers located throughout the room to give television viewing that special surround-sound effect.
The couch was a sectional, and at one end of the couch cushions there was a slight divot, as if someone spent most of their time sitting in that exact spot watching the boob tube.
The overall setting of the apartment was also decidedly masculine with little in the way of knickknacks, however, on the entertainment unit was a framed photograph of Kincaid and his twin brother when they were probably in their late teens, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, grinning for the camera.
The photo was obviously from happier times.
“Is this your secret Batcave?” I asked, wondering if the detective kept this place hidden from his wife.
“Not exactly,” he said, pocketing a key.
And then it hit me, and my eyes widened. I took in the space again, my alarm growing by the nanosecond. “Holy shit, Kincaid! Are you kidding me?”
He eyed me crossly. “We won’t be disturbed here.”
“You mean, your twin brother, the Flayer, won’t come waltzing on home into his own apartment?”
Kincaid put his finger to his lips. “Will you keep it down?”
“Oh, so the neighbors won’t hear and alert Petra’s lieutenant?” I threw my hands up at him, then turned on my heel and headed toward the elevator. No way was I going to get caught by Petra’s right hand in his own home when the man in question was probably at this very moment looking to hunt me down and murder me.
“Esmé!” Kincaid exclaimed, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. “Just listen for a minute, will you?”
I pulled my arm to free it, but the bastard held tight, so I settled for glaring over my shoulder at him with a lethal stare. “Let. Go.”
Kincaid looked desperate. “Just hear me out, goddammit!”
I growled low in my throat. “You have ten seconds.”
“Finn isn’t anywhere near here. Every Thursday at exactly this time he has a standing appointment that he never misses. We have two hours or more. I promise.”
I shook my head, disbelieving not only the story about the standing appointment but the fact that Kincaid would even consider bringing me here to perform a ceremony that Finn the Flayer was likely to kill me for participating in.
For his part, Kincaid looked resigned but insistent. “I swear, Esmé—on my life—we’re safe here at least until ten o’clock.”
I shook my head, seething with rage. Kincaid had just issued a very powerful spell. No mystic, not even an unmentored one, could swear on his or her life and lie. They’d be dead before they even hit the ground, as those words formed one of the most potent and powerful of spells.
So I jerked my arm again, yanking it from Kincaid’s grasp and said, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with so we can get the hell outta here.”
Kincaid blew out a relieved sigh and led the way into the center of the living room.
The blinds were drawn on the windows, so I had no idea how high up we were, or even where we were, and Kincaid made no effort to pull back the fabric and reveal daylight or the view. Instead, he picked up a remote control and clicked it, illuminating the room artificially.
“We can’t have those on during the ceremony,” I told him.
Kincaid moved to a bag he’d obviously brought up here earlier and began to pull twelve candles out from it.
“I know, but they’ll help while we set up.”
I pointed to the windows. “We could pull back the drapes.”
Kincaid flashed me a crooked smile. “Nice try. I told you I was bound to keep this place a secret, so no dice.”
“Whatever,” I said, more annoyed than ever.
Still, as Kincaid removed all of the items from his bag, I got them organized on the floor in front of the couch, then sat down on the carpet to cross my legs akimbo before motioning for Kincaid to do the same across from me.
When we were settled, I lit all the candles and motioned for him to douse the lights with the remote. I then closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, and when I opened them, Kincaid was looking both a little scared and a little excited.
“Have you ever witnessed a mentoring ceremony?” I asked him.
He shook his head.
“Okay. I’ll talk you through it as we go. It’s pretty simple, but it needs to be precise. It begins with two sacrifices from you; the first is your gift to me.”
Kinca
id reached into his side pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box. “Here,” he said. “I was guided right to it, so I think you’ll like it.”
I cocked an eyebrow and took the box from him. Opening it, I saw a small gold charm, in the shape of half a heart that gave the appearance of having been broken in two. I stared at it curiously, even as my own powers ignited and began to connect with the trinket. To my eye it gleamed and radiated power, and I actually gasped as I stared at it.
Tentatively I ran two fingers over the top of the charm, and warmth spread into my hand, through my arm, wrapping itself around my torso and neck before concentrating at the base of my throat, and—oddly—around my heart. I lifted the charm away from the box and put it on. It continued to pulse with warmth and, although I didn’t quite know its purpose, I knew enough from that immediate connection of its magic to mine that there could not have been a more perfect gift for me.
“Thank you,” I said to him, with a bow of my head. “I accept your gift.”
The tense set to Kincaid’s shoulders relaxed. “Good,” he said, looking very pleased with himself.
“Next,” I said, setting aside the jewelry box and placing my hands on my knees, “you will need to sacrifice the secrets of your binding spell.”
Kincaid pulled back his chin and began to shake his head. “No way.”
I nodded in understanding. I’d balked at this step too. “It’s required,” I said. “As your mentor, I can never reveal what you tell me to another living soul, nor can I ever use it against you, but because you were bound by someone other than me, it’s imperative that I know your greatest weakness. There’s no way around it.”
Kincaid seemed to consider that for a long moment. “Grigori never told me I’d need to do that.”
I nodded again. “I’m sure he didn’t. If he had told you, you might’ve changed your mind and requested the gift back. Still, it is required for the ceremony.”
Kincaid remained skeptical, so, with a roll of my eyes I added, “I swear it on my life.”
His mouth opened slightly. Obviously I’d surprised him with that one, but he quickly recovered and said, “Fine. I believe you.”
“Good. And if you absolutely don’t want to tell me, then you can have back your trinket, and we can get out of here with no hurt feelings or ill will on my part.” Of course I left out the part about the fact that if he did back out, I’d someday soon track down the trinket he’d offered me and steal it from him. No way was I ever going to allow such a perfectly matched treasure escape me again.
SPELL TO UNBIND, A Page 14
