Twiceborn Page 8

  My phone buzzed. Luce. “Yes?”

  “Are you with him?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I’m your head of security—it’s my job to protect you. Are you crazy?”

  “You forget yourself,” I snapped. Jason busied himself with his pasta, trying to look as though he wasn’t listening. I turned away, cupping the phone with my other hand for at least the illusion of privacy, and lowered my voice. “This unreasoning hatred is exactly why you’re not here. You’re not yourself where he’s concerned.”

  “Not myself? I’m not the one making small talk with the man who damn near killed me a few months ago.”

  Jason beckoned the waitress and murmured something I didn’t catch.

  “Not to mention what he did to me. Or doesn’t damage to a mere wyvern count?”

  “Lucinda.” My voice hardened. Her petty grudges could not be allowed to take precedence over my best interests.

  “Sorry,” she said at last, though her tone held little of apology. “But you can’t afford to take a stupid risk like this.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said. “I can’t afford not to.”

  “I take it that was Luce?” said Jason when I’d hung up. “Does she still hate me?”

  “With a passion.”

  He grinned. “She’ll get over it.”

  If he thought so, he didn’t know Luce as well as he imagined.

  “Finish your drink.” He indicated the last sip of mineral water in my glass. “I’ve ordered champagne. We should celebrate our new partnership.”

  I arched one eyebrow. “That’s a trifle presumptuous. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

  He laid one long-fingered hand over mine. “Don’t get huffy, Lee. You know you’re going to. Let’s skip over the part where you object and I try to persuade you with my brilliant arguments and get to the good part where we’re a team again.”

  His hand was warm on mine and his blue, blue eyes sparked with amusement. I didn’t trust him for one minute, but I felt myself weakening regardless. I stared down at our hands on the snowy white tablecloth.

  “Suppose I did agree—what then? I assume you’d have to lie low for a while, though Valeria’s not stupid. She’d guess where you were. I’d have to get Luce to beef up security on the house. You’d have to stay with me; I don’t have the manpower to protect more than one site.”

  He grinned. “That should be no hardship.”

  “That wasn’t an invitation.”

  “Of course. Strictly business. I understand.”

  I finished my water as the waitress arrived with a bottle of French champagne. The older ones were such snobs about wine—wouldn’t drink anything made in Australia. They didn’t know what they were missing.

  “Let’s have a toast,” he said, raising his fizzing glass. “To the future!”

  I took a sip and set the glass down, while he drained his and refilled it. I’d never cared much for champagne, so I toyed with my glass while he drank and chatted. His talk centred on complaints about Nada, Valeria’s lieutenant, and happy thoughts on how she might be brought down, and how Valeria had never appreciated him and therefore deserved everything that was coming to her.

  “Not like you, Leandra, my sweet. You always knew how to make a man feel wanted.”

  True. But I could learn from my mistakes. I wasn’t going down that particular path again, however attractive I found him, no matter how hard he flirted. Luce would be proud. She treated everyone with a fierce suspicion and wanted me to do the same.

  One of my thralls approached our table. “Mistress, Steve reports two of Valeria’s servants three blocks away, moving in this direction.”

  Anger stirred inside me as I turned to Jason. “Know anything about this?”

  He grimaced. “I told you she didn’t trust me. She’s sent her lackeys out searching, to see what I’m doing.” He pulled out his wallet and placed a handful of fifties on the table. “I hate to eat and run, but I’d rather she didn’t find out yet.”

  I watched him leave, wondering how far I could trust him.

  “Mistress? We should leave too, just in case …”

  In case it was all a lie and he’d just sprung a trap on us. Indeed.

  I picked up my handbag, but it wasn’t till I stood that I realised something was wrong. The room spun so dizzily I fell heavily against my thrall. Taken by surprise, he couldn’t catch me before I careened into the neighbouring table, sending glassware crashing. Red wine spread like a bloodstain across the white tablecloth. The couple there drew back in shock, and suddenly the whole restaurant was staring,

  My man showed great presence of mind. “It’s all right, folks. A little too much champagne, that’s all.”

  He helped me across the room to his partner. Good work, Steve. I’d have to give him a raise. No, Steve was the other one. I gasped and stumbled again as my stomach clenched with a vicious griping pain.

  Champagne? But I’d hardly touched it, and Jason had drunk half the bottle. They hustled me outside, one of them phoning the driver to bring the car around. The colours on the street were all wrong, and the people passing by seemed stretched and deformed. A woman on the other side of the street stared at me. I blinked, and she was gone. Was it only my imagination, or had her blonde hair been braided into a crown around her head?

  The pain slashed its terrible claws through my abdomen again and I moaned. The bastard had poisoned me. How? The car oozed up to the curb. Its open door gaped like a mouth and swallowed me up.

  Must have been just before the champagne came, when the conversation with Luce had distracted me. Was she in on it? “Finish your drink,” he’d said. That one last gulp of mineral water. I tried to laugh but only a whimper came out as I broke out in sweat all over. “Can’t you drive any faster?” someone demanded.

  Poison. How very old-fashioned. How stupid was I, to fall for his lies again?

  “Mistress? I’ll call a doctor. Just hang on till we get home.”

  My mind raced as my body rode the waves of pain. “No. No doctor.” We were immune to most poisons, so there were only a couple of possibilities here, and no doctor could do anything for me in either case. I had an hour or two, three if I was lucky. I clenched my fists, anger coursing through me. No! I refused to admit defeat. Not like this.

  “I’ll call Luce, then.” Not-Steve, whatever his name was, clearly didn’t want to take responsibility for a rapidly disintegrating situation. But I didn’t want Luce either. The timing of that phone call was suspiciously convenient.

  I could trust no one. If there was a way out I had to find it on my own. Another spasm racked me. And soon. I fell against my panicking thrall as the car rocketed around a corner.

  My mouth was so dry I could hardly speak. The only thing I could think of was so desperate it seemed hopeless.

  “Don’t call Luce,” I croaked into his shoulder. “Just get me home. Have a herald meet us there. Make sure it’s the same one as last time, do you understand? The girl.”

  If the alternative was to lie down and die, I had no choice.

  I had to try.

  ***

  I opened my eyes on an unfamiliar ceiling. Moonlight lay across the sheets, and the breeze from the open window carried a faint hint of salt and the sound of waves, like a great animal breathing. It took a moment to figure out where I was. A jumble of images filled my head, the fading shards of a dream.

  Jason had been in it, smug as ever, but it wasn’t Jason lying beside me. Why the hell was I wasting good brain cells dreaming about him when Ben lay here, snoring gently in my ear? If I never saw him again it would be too soon.

  I’d lost the thread of the dream. It had made perfect sense at the time, as dreams did, but now all I recalled was something about poison and a deep feeling of distrust.

  The red numbers on the clock said 3:05. Halfway through a luxurious stretch, my bandaged shoulder twinged. It hardly hurt at all. Seemed odd, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe t
he scratches hadn’t been as deep as they’d looked with blood everywhere.

  Thinking of blood recalled the hideous image of my bloody hands. I shifted restlessly, glaring into the dark. Through the bedroom door I could see the black shapes of unfamiliar furniture in the tiny house’s main room. Ben stopped snoring and rolled over, his arm curving protectively round me. Why couldn’t I remember what had happened?

  I could see the garden, hear the faint tap of my shoes on the paving stones as I walked the tree-lined path. Red roses bloomed on my left, their perfume rich and heady. The path curved around an ornamental fishpond where fat carp slipped lazily under a Japanese-style bridge.

  Again I saw the woman waiting beneath the trees, her back to me. She looked like she’d stepped out of an office on her lunch break: slim grey skirt with a matching tailored jacket, long blonde hair caught back in an elegant tortoiseshell clasp at her nape. Then she turned, but this time I saw her face, corpse-pale and beaded with sweat. Her huge brown eyes were desperate.

  Help me, Kate.

  I jumped, heart pounding, and Ben muttered a sleepy protest. Was this Leandra? Had I helped her or killed her?

  “You okay?” Ben’s breath tickled my ear. He sounded only half awake.

  “Fine.” I was turning into such an accomplished liar. “Go back to sleep.”

  He knew me too well to be taken in. “You’re not still worried about becoming a werewolf, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Are you in pain?” He propped himself up on one elbow, trying to get a good look at my face in the dim light. “Do you want some more painkillers?”

  “No. Really, Ben, it hardly even hurts. Stop fussing.” I stroked his stubbly face to soften my words. I’d never admit it, but I kind of liked the fussing. “I was trying to remember what happened today. It drives me mad that I can’t.”

  I told him what I’d recalled.

  He pressed a thoughtful kiss into the palm of my hand. “Could be Leandra. She’s—she was—blonde.”

  “But it could be anyone, couldn’t it?” She certainly didn’t have a monopoly on blonde hair. My skin tingled everywhere his lips touched.

  “True. Is that all? You didn’t see anyone else? Nothing out of the ordinary?”

  “Not that I can remember.” Frustration filled my voice. “Ben, what if it’s true? What if I did kill her?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she attacked me. And why can’t I remember? It seems suspicious—something weird’s going on. And then there’s the stone, and the glowing guy—”

  “Whoa, back up there. What stone?” Suddenly he sounded wide awake.

  With all the other excitement, I’d forgotten to tell him. “Wait here.”

  I padded across the cool floorboards, back through the main room to the tiny pink bathroom. My handbag was there, tossed into a corner.

  “You won’t believe this.” I offered him the black stone as I came back into the bedroom. “I threw this up when I got home from work.”

  The bed creaked as he sat up and took it, holding it up to the light from the window. The silver tracery sparkled even in the dark room. “You threw this up? What the hell is it?”

  Deflated, I sat on the lumpy bed. The sheets still held the warmth of my body. “I was hoping you’d know.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Never seen one before.”

  I took it back, turning it over as he had done, as if the answer would suddenly appear in glowing letters on the dark surface. It felt warm in my hand. Sighing, I thrust it back into my bag and stared out the window at the black silhouettes of gum trees against the sky.

  Outside a patch of darkness broke from the shadowy trees and flowed across the yard. I froze.

  “Ben. There’s something out there.”

  He followed my gaze to the window, but nothing moved outside now.

  “Get dressed.” He pulled on his jeans in two quick moves. I hunted for my T-shirt on the floor, painfully conscious of the open window looming behind me.

  “What is it? Can you see anything?” I whispered, struggling into my shorts. I had a bad feeling about this. My fingers shook as I tried to do up the button of my fly.

  “Could be nothing. A cat, maybe.” The shape I’d seen had been much bigger than a cat. “Just get—”

  The front door burst open and slammed back against the wall with a crash that shook the floor beneath my feet. I screamed and whirled to face the noise. Ben dived for the bedside drawer where he’d left his gun.

  Too late. In two seconds our visitors had crossed the main room and stood in the bedroom doorway.

  “I wouldn’t reach for that gun if I were you, Mr Stevens,” a woman said. Someone flicked on the light. I blinked at the sudden brightness, still frozen to the spot. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  A woman stood there, wearing a black dress more suited to a cocktail party than breaking and entering. Her dark hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, her makeup flawless. Good God. Who wore makeup to break into someone’s house at three o’clock in the morning? And all that jewellery? Her bare arms were weighed down with gold bracelets.

  Then a large grey wolf pushed past her into the room and I completely lost interest in her.

  The wolf bared its teeth, a blood-curdling growl rumbling in its chest. And not a knife block in sight. Ben stepped in front of me, facing the monster with apparent calm.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Nada?” He spoke to the woman as if the wolf wasn’t even there. He knew her? I looked at her more closely. Was it my imagination or was there a faint blue glow around her?

  “The queen’s justice,” she replied without inflection, inspecting her nails in a show of boredom. Nice touch. Pity the smirk she couldn’t quite keep from her face spoiled the effect.

  A guy with a gun joined her. Quite a crowd for the small bedroom. He gestured the wolf back. I kept my eyes on the wolf; I figured a gun could only kill me.

  Ben laughed. “What do you know about justice? You’re nothing more than a gun for hire. We’re heralds, under the queen’s protection.”

  Nada’s eyes narrowed. Easy there, Ben. Making her mad didn’t seem like a great game plan. There was obviously some history between these two. I swallowed, trying to look as calm as Ben, but the wolf could probably smell my fear.

  “And you’re nothing but glorified couriers,” she sneered. “Micah, get their charms.”

  The guy with the gun gestured me out of the way and took my necklace with the little Robin Hood guy from the bedside table. He was so close I could smell the garlic on his breath. I could have knocked him down—or through the window. Instead I backed up against the wall and let him squeeze past. Having a werewolf in the room certainly dampened my enthusiasm for heroics. Ben still wore his necklace. Wordlessly the gunman held out his free hand until Ben handed it over.

  “Does Valeria know you’re here?” Ben sounded remarkably cool for a man with a gun in his face. Maybe he was used to it. I was coming to realise there was a lot I didn’t know about him. “She’s a fool if she thinks the queen won’t punish both of you for this. Elizabeth doesn’t like having her peace broken.”

  “Her Majesty doesn’t like having her daughters killed by the meat either,” she snapped. I didn’t like the way she looked at me as she said it.

  “We had nothing to do with Leandra’s death.”

  I wished I could be so sure.

  “Really. Word on the street says otherwise.” Her gaze flicked over me briefly. “Come and tell Valeria all about it; I’m sure she’ll be fascinated.”

  “Why should Valeria care who killed Leandra, as long as she’s dead? She would have done it herself if she could. And we don’t answer to Valeria.”

  Nada laughed. “Maybe not this week, little man. But how long do you think it will be before Valeria’s queen? Is it wise to disobey your future sovereign?”

  She waved one languid hand at the werewolf, who
trotted obediently from the room. Her perfect manicure suggested she usually gave the orders and left the actual work to others.

  “Bring everything,” she said to the one called Micah. “I don’t want any sign left that they’ve been here. Tell the other two to follow in the herald’s car.”

  Micah nodded and pulled a cable tie from his pocket, which he used to cuff my hands firmly in front of me. Remarkably dexterous for a man still holding a gun. Must have had a lot of practice. Then he did the same for Ben, who glared at him.

  “You cross this line, you can never go back.”

  “Shut up,” Micah growled, shoving Ben toward the door.

  Nada strode out. Another gunman waited in the main room, and he and Micah hustled us after her, one gun on each of us. There was no sign of the wolf.

  A black four-wheel drive sat in the driveway behind Ben’s car, motor already running, headlights off. The only light came from the moon and what little spilled from the open front door. No chance of anyone seeing us and calling the police; every house on the street stood dark and quiet. Micah forced us into the back seat with the other gunman, then went around to the driver’s side. Two others brought my bag and Ben’s first aid kit out and got into Ben’s car. Maybe one of them was the werewolf? It was impossible to tell now.

  Nada spoke to them then got in beside Micah. I glared at the back of her sleek head all the way to the motorway.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I woke to find Jason leaning over our bed, fully dressed.

  “What are you doing?” According to my brand-new alarm clock, we didn’t have to get up for another half-hour. It was still dark, but light from the hallway illuminated the mantelpiece where the clock sat, its ticking loud in the quiet house.

  “Luce is worried.”

  “So?” I stretched like a cat, enjoying the slide of satin sheets against my skin. His eyes lingered on my curves. “Luce is always worried. That’s her job.”

  “One of the boys coming in this morning saw Nada down in the village,” Luce said from the doorway.

  “Nada?” I frowned at my security chief. Dressed in jeans and boots, her dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, she stared back with her usual impassivity. You could never tell what Luce was thinking—unless she wanted you to know. “Nada Kusic?”