by Jenna Black
I stuffed myself on chili and cornbread, both of which were blazing hot. I was half-expecting it from the chili, but the cornbread took me by surprise, since I didn’t see the jalapeños until I’d shoved a big hunk in my mouth. Good thing I like spicy food, though I’d have preferred to wash it down with a cold beer rather than room temperature red wine. I’m pretty sure the wine was good stuff, but my taste buds were burning too much to notice.
When I could eat no more, Anderson made a pot of after-dinner coffee, which he served with a generous splash of Bailey’s. When he returned to the table, I could tell by the serious look on his face that social hour was over, and we were about to get down to business. The strength of my regret surprised me.
Being in no hurry to put an end to the festivities, I sipped my coffee in silence, waiting for Anderson to begin. I didn’t have to wait long.
“Your sister and anyone else you care about is going to be in some amount of danger, no matter what you do,” he started, and the baldness of his statement made me wince. There was sympathy in his voice, but he made no particular attempt to soften the blow. “I figure it does neither of us any good if I make promises I can’t keep.”
At least he was honest about it. “So if you can’t protect Steph, what’s the point of me coming here?”
“I’m not saying I can’t protect her. I’m just saying that even if I do, there will always be some danger. Konstantin and I have agreed to tolerate each other for the sake of expediency, but if at any time he should decide our truce is more trouble than it’s worth, he could break it. That’s a reality all of us in this house have to live with. We don’t have any Descendants at our beck and call, which means we can’t kill Konstantin or any of his people. If he decides to break his truce with us, he’ll do it by having his pet Descendants attack us, and even if we win the battle, it’s likely some of us will die—and increase the Olympians’ strength by doing so.”
I frowned as I thought this over. “Then why did he agree to a truce with you in the first place?”
Anderson smiled, and in his eyes I saw a flash of the ruthlessness that was usually well hidden beneath his friendly demeanor. “Consider that a trade secret.”
I decided not to press. “Okay. So you have a shaky truce with the Olympians, but you’re not confident enough in it to promise you can keep Steph safe.”
“That’s it in a nutshell. But I can promise to keep her a whole lot safer than she is right now. Even if you agree to hunt the people on the list Konstantin gave you, that won’t guarantee her safety. If you ever balk at anything he commands you to do, he’ll trot the threat out again. I can’t imagine you could have spoken to him for more than five minutes and not know I’m telling the truth about this.”
Unfortunately, he was right. Konstantin had tried to make it sound like we could be best buds if only I’d do this one little thing for him. But I knew a bully when I saw one, and I knew Konstantin was the kind of guy who’d enjoy flexing his muscles on a regular basis.
I had to suppress a shudder at the thought of Steph being subjected to Konstantin’s malice. There were times I couldn’t help being jealous of my sister’s relatively easy life. She’d been born beautiful and personable, to a wealthy family who doted on her. Sure, she’d had her share of heartbreaks, just like any normal person, but nothing really bad had ever happened to her. She’d never been abandoned by her mother, or been passed from foster home to foster home, or been threatened with juvie.
The downside to this gilded life was that she’d never had to develop the kind of armor I had. There’s a difference between knowing that there’s ugliness in this world and being subjected to that ugliness yourself. My early life had inoculated me against some of the worst the world had to offer. I was reeling under the stress of what had happened to me the other night, but I was at least coping with it. Steph wouldn’t have those kinds of coping skills. Even a small dose of violence would be a terrible shock to her system. I feared that if Alexis got his hands on her, he wouldn’t have to work very hard to break her.
“The best thing you can do for your sister,” Anderson said softly, “is to ally with me. I’m not a tyrant like Konstantin, and my people do what we can to make the world a better place.”
I pushed my fears for Steph to the side and met Anderson’s eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw something warm and wise in those medium brown eyes of his. Eyes I’d once dismissed as ordinary.
But as friendly and non-threatening as he was being now, I’d seen another side of him that first night. I wanted to trust him, if only because it would make my own life so much easier, but I couldn’t allow myself to forget how little I knew about him.
“So that Hand of Doom thing you did to Jamaal isn’t something you consider tyrannical?” I challenged, watching his face carefully in hopes his expression would reveal more of his hidden depths. No such luck.
“Hand of Doom?” he asked with a little smile. “I’ve never heard it called that before.”
“You think it’s funny?”
His smile faded, replaced by an almost sad expression. “No. No, it’s not funny at all.” He sighed and reached for his cup of coffee, which was almost empty. I think he was just stalling for time as he tipped the last few drops into his mouth.
“I suppose I have my own tyrannical moments,” he admitted, staring into his empty cup. He seemed to catch himself doing it, then carefully placed the cup on the table and looked at me once more. “Gentle rebukes don’t have much of an effect on most Liberi, especially not on someone like Jamaal. I know you’ve seen no evidence to support this, but he’s a good man at heart. He wants to control his dark side, but he isn’t always able to, especially without Emmitt to help him. When he loses control, there have to be consequences.”
“So that was special treatment you reserve just for Jamaal?” Instinct told me the answer was no.
“I don’t run around hurting my people on a regular basis, if that’s what you’re asking. But I am their leader, and I do expect them to obey me when I make a direct order.” He leaned forward, his expression intense. “Understand this, Nikki: you’re very new to being Liberi, but the rest of my people are not. Being immortal and having supernatural powers will change you over time, will corrupt you, if you let it. If I let my people get away with defying me, then I risk losing them. Not right away, but over time, as they find they can do anything they want without suffering any consequences, year after year after year. I’ve seen it happen too many times, and so have my people. They’re with me because they don’t want to go down that road, and they believe I can keep it from happening.”
“And what’s to keep you from going down that road? Or do you punish yourself when you’ve been a bad boy?”
I thought my sarcastic question might piss him off, but Anderson just smiled. “There are some checks and balances in place.”
Not the most specific answer in the world, but it was apparently all I was going to get.
“All right. Let’s say I accept that you’re not a tyrant and that becoming your ally is the best way to protect my family. What would I have to do to join up?”
“First, you would have to move into the house, because those are the terms of my agreement with Konstantin. Any Liberi who lives in this house is considered to be one of mine.”
I had no intention of moving into the mansion permanently. I loved my condo, and there was no way I was giving it up. I also loved my freedom, and sharing communal quarters with Anderson and his flock of Liberi would be like living in a barracks. A luxurious, beautiful barracks, but a barracks all the same.
However, I’d already established that I needed Anderson’s help, and if temporarily moving into the mansion was what I had to do to get it, then I was going to have to suck it up, at least for a while. I’d just have to consider it as an indefinite hotel stay.
Unfortunately, Anderson had already let me know there was another condition I had to meet to earn his help.
; “And second,” I continued for him, “there’s someone you want me to find for you. Who? And why?”
The corners of his eyes tightened with what looked like pain. “Her name is Emma Poindexter,” he said. He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s been missing for almost ten years. And I want you to find her because she’s my wife.”
TWELVE
I sat in stunned silence at Anderson’s kitchen table. I don’t know why I was so surprised. He might not be drop-dead gorgeous, but Anderson was certainly attractive enough, and he obviously had money and power. Why would I assume a man like him was single? Especially when he was most likely centuries old?
“Your wife,” I repeated when I could find my voice. I glanced at his left hand, but there was no ring on his finger. At least I hadn’t missed so obvious a clue as that.
He nodded. “She’s a Liberi, descended of Nyx—the Greek goddess of night.” He shifted in his seat, no longer meeting my eyes. “Konstantin and I may not be at open war with each other now, but that wasn’t always the case. Konstantin hates me more than words can express for challenging his ‘rule.’ So to punish me for luring some of his Olympians out of the fold, he kidnapped Emma.”
Anderson closed his eyes. His fists were clenched in his lap, his shoulders tight with strain. I felt a very feminine urge to comfort him, but I managed to stifle it. I didn’t know him well enough to offer comfort.
When he opened his eyes, there was a hint of red around the edges, like he’d been crying, although I saw no evidence of tears. “He claims he interred her. Buried her alive.”
I couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped me. “But she’s Liberi…” I whispered.
“Yes. She’s Liberi. If he’s telling the truth, if he didn’t just have one of his pet Descendants kill her, then she’s been in the ground, unable to escape even through death, for almost ten years.”
He blinked rapidly, as if trying to stave off tears. His voice was steadier when he resumed, but there was a faint, husky tone to it. “You see, Nikki, I know what it’s like to have someone you love used as a weapon against you. I’ll do everything in my power to help you protect your family if you will do everything in your power to help me find Emma.”
In all honesty, it’s a case I might well have taken on without any need for threat or ultimatum. How could I not take pity on someone who’d suffered so horribly? Even if Emma was a raving bitch, I’d have felt sorry for her, but since I didn’t know her it was even easier to picture her as the innocent victim of an evil, vindictive bastard.
As a P.I., I’d always specialized in locates and skip traces—basically, finding people who didn’t want to be found. But this wasn’t going to be a typical locate. None of the tools I used to find missing persons—things like online searches and interviews with people who might have heard from her—was going to help me find someone who was buried, and had been in the ground for almost ten years. Everyone seemed to assume I had some kind of supernatural hunting powers, but other than my sudden improvement in marksmanship, I’d seen no sign of them.
“Will you help me, Nikki?” Anderson asked, and the plea in his voice made something in my chest hurt. I wasn’t trusting enough to believe everything he’d said, and I had the distinct impression there were plenty of things he’d left out of the story, but I did believe he was hurting. A lot.
“Yes,” I said, because what else could I possibly answer? Even if I didn’t need his help myself, I doubt I could have resisted that plea. Never mind that I hadn’t the faintest idea how I could actually go about helping him. “If you’ll help me protect my family, I’ll do everything I can to help find Emma.”
“Thank you,” he said, then heaved a big sigh. “I’ve been without hope for so long I’d forgotten what it feels like.”
The knot in my chest tightened. I hated to get his hopes up when the chances that I could find Emma seemed so slim.
Anderson smiled wanly. “Don’t worry. Unlike Konstantin, I am not prone to unrealistic expectations. I know there’s a chance he’s lying to me and she’s been dead all along. I also know there’s a chance even your skills won’t prove equal to finding her, and that even if we find her, she may be irreparably damaged by what she’s been through.”
Anderson shook off some of his sadness. He sat up straighter in his chair, and his hands finally relaxed in his lap. I wondered if he’d been clenching them hard enough to leave nail marks on his palms.
“You’ll need to move in as soon as possible,” he said. “If Konstantin finds out you and I have reached an agreement before you’re actually under my roof, he’ll declare open season on you.”
I was in no hurry to install myself in the mansion, and I didn’t like the sense that Anderson was trying to rush me. However, the idea of spending another night in the hotel didn’t have much appeal, either, and I still wouldn’t feel safe going home. I had to stay somewhere tonight. Besides, I reminded myself, I was planning to consider this mansion an ultra-luxurious hotel. A stopgap measure until I could figure out a better way to protect Steph.
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
He nodded briskly. “Good. I’ll open up one of the spare bedrooms for you.”
“Thanks. What about Jamaal? And Blake?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What about them?” I would have thought he was playing stupid, except he looked genuinely puzzled by my question.
“You might have noticed they don’t like me much. How are they going to feel if I move in under your roof?”
Anderson shrugged. “Their feelings about it don’t enter into the equation. This is my house, and I can invite whomever I please.” He seemed to notice the severity in his voice and flashed me a rueful smile. “There I go being tyrannical again, huh?”
I smiled back. “I wasn’t going to say it.”
He acknowledged that with a nod. “Blake might not like it, but he’ll understand. Jamaal will need some careful handling, but I’ll have a long talk with him while you’re gone. I’ll make it very clear that he’s to play nice with you.”
“Even though he still thinks I killed Emmitt on purpose?”
Anderson’s brow furrowed. “I have to wonder if he really believes that. It would be awfully hard for a Descendant not affiliated with the Olympians to find out we existed at all, much less understand her own heritage and our vulnerability, then arrange to kill one of us.”
“Who said she’s not affiliated with the Olympians?” a voice asked from the hall just outside the kitchen, and we both jumped a little.
The adrenaline kept pumping as I turned to watch Jamaal walk casually into the kitchen. He was looking much more sane today. There was still an unmistakable spark of anger in his eyes, but he no longer looked crazed by it. That didn’t make him any less lethal.
On the scale of male beauty as judged by Nikki Glass, Jamaal was the most gorgeous of all the Liberi I’d met. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the build and the grace of an athlete. He wore his hair in shoulder-length beaded braids, the braids following the contours of his elegantly shaped skull up to about his ears. High cheekbones, luxuriously long eyelashes, and full, sensual lips made his face into a work of art. I’d never seen him smile, but I suspected the effect would be devastating.
Of course, I’d have found him a lot more attractive if he weren’t looking at me with such loathing. At least he wasn’t charging at me with murder in his eyes.
Anderson pushed his chair back from the table, watching Jamaal carefully although he didn’t get up.
“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t to be disturbed,” he said, and though his voice was mild, there was a threat implied in his words.
Jamaal didn’t come any closer, but he didn’t go away, either. “Sounded to me like you were wrapping up.”
“Eavesdropping?” Anderson asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You’ve been hanging around Jack too long.”
Jamaal grimaced in distaste. “Low blow, boss.”
I gathered that Jamaal and Jack weren’t great friends, which I supposed made sense. Jack was a trickster, and I’d seen no evidence to date that Jamaal even knew what a sense of humor was.
“I call ’em like I see ’em,” was Anderson’s unrepentant reply. “How long have you been listening?”
Jamaal hunched his shoulders like a little kid getting scolded by his dad. “Long enough to think it was time to let you know I was here. Sorry.” He flicked a glance at me, his expression no warmer than it had ever been when he looked at me. “My question stands: who says she’s not working for the Olympians? Wouldn’t Konstantin just laugh his ass off if we accepted his murdering little spy into our house with open arms!”
“If I had my choice,” I said before Anderson could answer, “I’d have nothing to do with any of you. I want my life back.”
“So you say,” Jamaal countered. “But talk is cheap.”
“Children…” Anderson chided, making a long-suffering face. I chose not to respond to Jamaal’s jibe, and he subsided. Anderson nodded his approval.
“If it turns out she’s a spy working for Konstantin,” Anderson said, “we’ll deal with it when we have proof.” The look he shot me then spoke volumes about just how he would “deal with it.” He might be giving me the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn’t wholly convinced of my innocence.
I was too stubborn to drop my gaze, though it was hard to look into his eyes when his expression was so forbidding. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he turned to Jamaal.
“I need you to prove to me that you can keep it together without Emmitt around to balance your temper. Nikki is now under my protection, and I won’t have her being threatened or harassed by one of my own people.”
