Chronicles of Arcana (The complete collection books 1-4) Page 9

  “Nope. I’ll stick to four wheels. Just try and keep up.”

  He snorted. And was that a slight smile on his face? He turned away too quick to know for sure. No. Those lips probably didn’t even know how to smile. It had to be a trick of the light. I climbed into the Mini and started her up.

  Time to hunt.

  Chapter 9

  The Hunter and the Prey was pretty empty when we arrived. The place usually filled up by late afternoon, but right now, it was just the regular fixtures. Maple, who always sat at the bar with a gin and tonic and romance novel and got eyed up by the two old coots playing the longest game of chess in the history of the world, and my personal favorite, Old Dermot, who sat by the window with a pint of Guinness and The Daily Vine. In his heyday, the old coot used to drive the trains that crisscrossed beneath the city—the now closed-off, underground network. All he had now were tales of a simpler time, tales of a time before the world existed in pockets. The guy was over a century old and pretty tight-lipped about his heritage and abilities, if any, but his longevity suggested he was Lupin or Sanguinata—the wolf men and bloodsuckers that resided in packs and clans around the city. I’d asked him, of course, on several occasions, but he’d always side-stepped the question.

  Taylem looked up from wiping the bar, and his rugged face broke into a grin at the sight of me, but then his gaze slid over my shoulder to the hulking figure at my back and the grin slipped.

  Oh, dear. Softly, softly would be the key here. We’d never been an official thing, and one night did not a relationship make, but he was someone I cared about, and hurting his feelings was not on the agenda.

  I hailed Tay and wound my way past the tables and chairs to the long oak bar at the back of the building. This place was old-school chic, keeping the vibe of the great city Arcana had once been. Wooden bar stools and tables gave the place a rustic air. The windows were made up of tiny panes that looked like the bottom of beer bottles, and the lighting was low—lamplight level—giving the place a warm, cozy air. No wonder this was the place to be in the evening. Hot food, good drink, and pleasant company were all on offer, except that right now, Tay looked far from pleased.

  His eyes narrowed as we reached the bar, and his whole demeanor shifted from friendly to defensive. “Wila, what can I do for you?”

  “Hey, Taylem. My colleague and I were hoping you could help us with a case we’re working on.”

  “Colleague?” Tay looked skeptical. “Since when do you work with anyone?”

  I gave a heartfelt sigh. “Sometimes you’ve gotta break the unspoken rules to get the job done, and this isn’t a case I can wrap up alone.”

  His brows snapped down.

  Oops. Wrong thing to say.

  “If it’s brawn you’re needing, then you’ve got me and Mack,” Tay said.

  “She was looking for brains,” Azren said.

  Taylem ignored him and addressed me. “You know we’re here for you, right?”

  “I do, that’s why I’m here now. I need information, and you guys know stuff.”

  Taylem’s gaze flicked up to Azren, then back to me. “What do you need to know?”

  The door behind the bar opened and Mack appeared. His craggy face ripped into an exuberant grin at the sight of me.

  “Bastion Bomb!” He jumped the bar, landing easily beside me, and then grabbed me in a bear hug, lifting me off my feet. It was the crème de la crème of hugs, because Mack was the hug king. Thank goodness I didn’t have issues with personal space, because otherwise I’d be fucked. Not literally in this case, because Mack and I’d never had that kind of chemistry, not even for a moment. It was more a brother-sister vibe, an overprotective brother and likes-to-get-into-scrapes sister vibe. His body tensed. He’d just spotted Azren.

  I patted Mack’s back. “He’s working for me, Mack. You can quit giving him the laser eyes.”

  Mack released me. “You’re not from these parts, are you?” he asked Azren.

  “No,” Azren replied.

  “That’s a wicked scar,” Taylem probed.

  “It is,” Azren replied. “Would you like one?”

  Silence, absolute and deadly, fell over us like a shroud, and my stomach clenched in apprehension. Tay and Mack were easygoing guys, but they were troll born, and that came with an innate aggression and territorial instinct. Right now, we were on their turf, and whether I liked it or not, they’d claimed me as part of their troll clan, or whatever it was they called it. Azren, an outsider, was unwittingly challenging these instincts simply by being here with me and threatening Tay. This could go one of two ways—real bad or worse.

  I stepped back into Azren, my back against his chest. “Tay, he didn’t mean anything by it.”

  But Taylem was locked in some kind of eye dance with Azren. The two men did the glaring macho shit that went hand-in-hand with asserting dominance in certain neph circles, and nothing I could say would matter. This was primal instinct-level shit.

  The heat of Azren’s body seemed to notch up a level, seeping through the thin leather of my jacket.

  Finally, Tay’s shoulders unknotted, and he gave a slow blink. “No,” he said solemnly. “I don’t think I would like one.”

  And just like that, the tension evaporated.

  Mack cleared his throat. “Well, Wila, I get the impression this isn’t a social call?”

  “Wila needs some information,” Tay said.

  “What kind of information?” Mack asked me.

  “I need to know if you’ve heard any rumors about Shedim on this side of the border?”

  Mack looked to Taylem and the brothers shook their heads. “Can’t say we have,” they said in unison.

  “The Patrol have been trawling more regularly, though,” Taylem said. “You should speak to Lex at the Petting Zoo. If anyone’s heard anything about illegal immigrants, then it will be Lex.”

  Lex? Petting Zoo? What the heck were they talking about? My confusion must have scrawled an SOS across my face because Mack clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder and then pulled me into another hug.

  “It looks like there’s someone Bastion doesn’t know after all,” he said with glee. “The woman with all the contacts has failed to garner this very valuable, very powerful one.”

  Valuable and powerful, two words that always got me tingling, and how the hell had I missed adding this dude to my little black book of contacts? “Okay, spill it. Who is this guy?”

  “Lex is ... something else,” Taylem said softly. “He owns an exclusive club on the border of North and East at the edge of the Turnabout Forest. It’s a converted warehouse, and the Northsiders love getting their expensive shoes dirty going there.”

  “And why would he know about the Shedim?” Azren asked.

  Tay fixed his attention on Azren. “Because Lex is a collector—artefacts, objects, people, information. It’s all a commodity to him, and he’s damned good at what he does.”

  I clapped my hands together. “Well, it looks like we better pay this collector a visit.”

  Mack winced. “Members only, babe.”

  Shit. “And how do you become a member?”

  “You get an invite,” Taylem said. He and Mack exchanged glances again. Mack raised both his brows, and Tay sighed. “Mack and I are members, and members get to take a plus one. If you guys want, we can get you in.” He looked less than thrilled about it.

  I cocked my head. “Why the sour face?”

  “Tay hates the place,” Mack said. “Too rich for his blood. He took Toya there on a date and—”

  “Shut it, rubber lips,” Taylem snapped.

  Mack broke off into a mischievous grin. “Aw, come on, Tay, it’s a damned good story.”

  Taylem looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, it’s my story to tell, when and if I want to.”

  It wasn’t the story he didn’t want Mack telling, it was the whole concept of him dating someone else. He was still holding out hope for an us. My heart sank. What had I done? I was such an idiot. B
ut there was only one way to rectify this, and that was to be open and honest with him. As soon as we got a moment alone, I’d have the talk with him, make things clear, and hope and pray I didn’t lose a friend in the process.

  “Can we go now?” Azren asked.

  Taylem shook his head. “The place doesn’t open till midnight.”

  Great, a whole day to kill. “Fine, shall we meet you guys back here at elevenish?”

  Taylem nodded. “We’ll get Fergus to close up.”

  As if summoned by the use of his name, which he probably was, a tiny, red-bearded man appeared behind the counter. Most supernaturals were neph, born from human and Black Wing union, but there were some believed to be products of Black Wings procreating with an ancient race of beings called the Sidhe. Legends say that the Sidhe retreated back to their world centuries before the rift that brought the Draconi and Shedim to us opened, and the only proof they were ever here were the many stories of the little people. Not that they were all actually little in stature; Fergus was an exception. He climbed up onto a stool and smiled amiably. His red beard and bushy red brows never failed to astound me, and today, his beard was done up in hundreds of little braids tied with tiny blue ribbons.

  “You wanting me to do the locking up?” Fergus asked. “I’ll lock up tight, boss.”

  “Good,” Tay said.

  The polite thing to say would be thank you, but thanking Fergus always broke him out in hives. It was almost as if he was allergic to the words.

  “Good man,” Mack said. It was his way of thanking Fergus.

  It was time to take my leave. “Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

  Azren was already headed for the door.

  “Wila?” Taylem’s tone was somber. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  I swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m talking about him.” He jerked his head toward the door which Azren had just exited through. “He’s not a neph, is he?”

  I sighed. “No. Remember that job I went to yesterday?”

  “Yeah.”

  I filled him in and his face clouded with every word. “You could have died.”

  “Yeah, I know, and now I’m stuck with him, but ... I don’t think he wants to hurt me.”

  “No,” Tay said. “I don’t think he does. But if Elora wants you hurt, then it won’t matter what Azren wants. His free will is an illusion. So, please, be careful. There is pain in him. Too much pain.”

  My mouth was suddenly dry. “I should go.”

  “Um, Wila,” Mack said. “The Petting Zoo has a dress code, as in you’ll actually need to wear a dress.”

  “Well, that’s sexist.”

  “Your colleague will need to spruce up too.”

  Fuck, everything in my wardrobe aside from my work shit was pink, and this was officially a work thing. I was going to need a black dress. “Fine, I’ll wear a dress.”

  “You mean you actually have legs under those leather pants?” Mack teased.

  “She’s got great legs,” Taylem blurted.

  Mack froze and then turned his head slowly to look from Taylem to me. His jaw tightened. “Tay? What the fuck?”

  Taylem tucked in his chin. “You best go now,” he said without meeting my eyes.

  This was my fault. They were about to argue because of me, and I needed to stop it. “Mack, it was a one-night thing. It didn’t mean anything.”

  Tay flinched as if I’d slapped him.

  Mack’s shoulders tensed.

  Oh, fucking hell. It looked like my foot was going to be permanently wedged in my fucking mouth today. “I didn’t mean it like that, Tay, I—”

  He held up his hand. “Wila, please. Just ... I’ll see you later.”

  Mack didn’t even turn to look at me.

  Stomach in my boots, I headed out of the door. The midday sun blinded me as I stepped out onto the pavement, and the warm rays did their best to lift my spirits, but there would be no reprieve until I’d squared things with the twins later. How could one slip-up cause so much pain?

  Azren was already astride his bike, one boot braced on the ground, the dagger in his hands. Two women walked by giggling like fools at the sight of him. They had no idea what they were eyeing up, no idea that he could kill them with a single swipe of his talons, because said talons were under glamour. But the dagger he was holding wasn’t. Their gazes fell on the wicked-sharp blade and the giggles cut off. They both turned and ran.

  “Whoa, put that away.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Because you can’t just stand around holding a lethal weapon.” I patted my pocket where K was nestled. “You keep them concealed until needed.”

  “I do need it.” He held up the wicked blade. “The dagger will warn me of Shedim presence. It’s why I’m here, after all.”

  Ah. “Okay, but can you be a little more discrete?”

  He shrugged and slid the dagger back into its sheath.

  “How do you plan to do this binding thing?”

  “Shedim are not corporal in the same sense as your people. The dagger is like a conduit that will pull the Shedim into the blade if the blade is used on it.”

  “And then what?”

  “I deliver the blade to my liege, and she will retrieve the Shedim and mete out justice.”

  “And then you get to go home?”

  There was a faraway look on his face. “Yes.”

  Who had he been forced to leave behind? Was there family waiting for him? A lover, maybe? “Do you have someone special? A girlfriend, lover ...” The question fell from my lips before I could check myself.

  He blinked, taken aback, and then his lips curled in an ironic smile. “Why do you ask? Are you volunteering for the position?”

  Jeez, could my ears get any hotter. “Whoa. I just wondered if you had someone waiting for you.”

  He was staring at me with an indecipherable look. “Why would you even care?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know? Maybe because we’ll be working together. It might be nice to get to know each other a little.”

  He leaned back slightly so he was looking down his nose at me. “Very well. To answer your question, no, there is no one special yet. I have yet to meet her.” His tone was soft, filled with longing, and it tugged at something inside me. But then his jaw flexed and his tone flattened out. “And when I do I will tell her to run.”

  “Um…Well, that’s ... What?”

  He frowned and looked away. “Every Shedim is born with a soul mate. They are always conceived at the same time, two halves of a whole. Shedim mate for life; we become tethered. When I meet my mate, we will both know it, and if she is lucky she will escape with her life.”

  Was I getting this straight? “You want to kill your mate?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want. I belong to my liege, and nothing can come before my duty to her.” He said it in a monotone, as if he’d recited these words to himself over and over.

  Realization settled over me like an icy mist. “Elora will have your mate killed.”

  He kept his gaze fixed on a point over my head. “Like I said, my duty is to my liege.”

  “But what does that mean for you? I mean, that’s your mate.”

  His expression darkened. “I am my liege’s first hand. There is no need for anyone else. My focus is on her needs.”

  How brainwashed was he? “But what about your needs?”

  He snorted. “I fuck. I fuck a lot. Believe me, my needs are met.”

  My stomach flipped hard at his use of the F word. A word he found distasteful coming from my lips, but coming from his it sounded like an invitation. “Okay. Good to know. But those weren’t the needs I was talking about.”

  “I eat, sleep, kill, and fuck. I have no other needs.” He bit out the words almost angrily.

  I held up my hands. “Okay. Fine. I get it.”

  The corner of his mouth curved up slightly. “Do you? Are your needs met, Wila Bastion?”

>   He was goading me, trying to make me uncomfortable, but fuck if I was playing that game. I lifted my chin. “I eat, fuck, sleep, and kick the shit out of bad guys. Yeah, my needs are met.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in slightly, stealing my trembling breath with his presence. “What else?”

  His proximity short-circuited my brain for a second. “What?”

  “Tell me more. I thought we were getting to know each other?”

  The back of my neck heated. “I’m single. Blissfully unattached, and you know about The Gables, so ...we should get going.” I headed toward the Mini. “You can head back to the office if you like. I need to buy a dress, and we need to get you a fancy shirt and some trousers.” Okay, so I was babbling, covering my discomfort with words, but it was working, and the heat receded, allowing me to face him in a composed manner.

  He stared me up and down with those deep jade peepers. “I do not need to purchase clothing.”

  Of course he didn’t. He could probably just summon himself some fancy threads. “Fine. But unfortunately, I can’t just imagine myself into a party dress. I’ll actually need to go and buy one.”

  “Fine. And then I suggest we drive past this warehouse and get a lay of the land.”

  “Good idea.”

  He revved the engine. The conversation was over.

  ***

  Eloise’s was the place to go when in need of quality threads. Smack bang in the center of the Eastside, it catered mainly to the higher-end East clientele, but being friends with the owner meant that discounts were standard fare. Shame they didn’t stock the dustkicker I’d been eyeing. Eloise had been at The Gables with me, head in the clouds and fashion magazine clutched to her bosom. Clothes had been her thing. She’d made all her own outfits and even wrangled me into several of her creations. She’d left two years before me, and by the time I’d moved out, Eloise had started up her own business. The woman was a fucking creative genius, but no matter how much money she made, she’d never forgotten where she came from. Growing up at The Gables together had forged a bond that could not be broken. It had been me, Eloise, and Fran. Fran had gone on to join The Collective, and I’d get the clockwork monthly call from her trying to convince me to sign up. She meant well, but bureaucracy wasn’t my thing. Thinking outside the box and answering to no one but myself kept my ass alive. And wow, I really needed to stop daydreaming, because Azren was about to follow me up the steps into the shop.