Mercenary Read online

  Bizbee rolled his eyes, but I zipped the pouch before he could offer his opinion on my optimism.

  After a second of hesitation, I took my phone out of the side pocket of the pouch and put it on the seat. I called Liam’s phone.

  “Why are you calling me?” he asked.

  “Answer it. I want a line open so Peasblossom can hear what’s going on.”

  “What?” Peasblossom protested. “But I want to come in too.”

  “I need you out here for backup. If something goes wrong, call Vincent.”

  Liam answered his phone, then slipped it back into his pocket. “The sound quality won’t be great.”

  “Peasblossom has excellent hearing. Don’t you?”

  She lifted her chin at Liam. “Better than yours.”

  That wasn’t true, but I didn’t argue with her. Whatever would make her stay in the truck worked for me. Not that I was worried we’d be fighting with the ifrits, but if it did come down to that, Liam wasn’t in tip top shape yet. And I’d had enough burns to last me a lifetime already.

  I glanced at Liam as we approached the front door. He really was healing fast. Both eyes were open now, and the cut over his eye and on his left cheek had closed. The swelling was drastically reduced as well.

  I stopped walking suddenly, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. “You could shift to heal completely. Why don’t you?”

  He tilted his head and some of the gold left his eyes, revealing the blue underneath. “You could have healed that burn all the way last night, but you didn’t. Why not?”

  “Because the chances of someone trying to kill me again were pretty good, so I needed to conserve my energy,” I answered immediately.

  Liam started to respond then paused. “Are you limited to how many spells you can cast a day?”

  “Not exactly. But using magic takes a physical toll. And if I get too tired, for lack of a better word, my control falls to pieces and things can get…interesting.”

  Liam nodded. “Shifting takes a lot of energy too. I can do it more frequently and in shorter time increments than someone who isn’t an alpha, but it’s still a toll. I’m already healing, so healing an hour or so earlier at the cost of leaving myself too exhausted to be of any use doesn’t make much sense.”

  The door opened before we could continue our conversation. Charbel Nassir stood in the doorway, staring at us where we stood on the small walkway leading up to the porch. His bright orange and red eyes darkened when he saw me, hinting at a flash of anger.

  “Ms. Renard. I’m surprised to see you here after my brother’s warning yesterday. I must say I’m disappointed.”

  “You said I could contact you if I had information.”

  “I said you could call. There is a world of difference between calling and showing up on my doorstep.”

  I didn’t say out loud that it was easier to lie over the phone. “Well I’m here.” I squared my shoulders and met his eyes. “Charbel, this is Detective Sergeant Liam Osbourne. Liam, this is Charbel Nassir, Executive Consultant at Scoria Security.”

  Charbel fixed his glowing gaze on Liam, his attention lingering deliberately on the shifter’s wounds as he shook his hand. “Unless you’ve come to ask me to cauterize those wounds, I’m not certain why you’re here?”

  It sounded enough like a threat that Liam straightened, and his aura swelled to press against me. I pushed the heat away and lifted my chin.

  “I need—”

  “I’m afraid that I can’t help you,” Charbel interrupted. “I cannot in good conscience support your decision to pursue this matter. I’m afraid your choice will not end well for you, and I don’t wish to be a part of it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Please don’t presume to know what I’m capable of.”

  “Your presence here suggests that you don’t know what I’m capable of,” Charbel said shortly. “Leave now, Ms. Renard.”

  “Not until I give you the news I came to deliver.” I forced myself to stop and take a deep breath, clasping my hands in front of me. Rude or not, no one deserved to find out about the death of a loved one from an angry witch. “I’m here with something important to tell you. Sad news, I’m afraid.”

  The ifrit opened his mouth, then closed it. He studied me for a long minute, and it grated on my nerves that he seemed so convinced that nothing I had to say could possibly be of note to him. Then I noticed it. The way he gripped the doorway so tightly with one hand, straining the muscles in his arm. Realization dawned. He knew why I was here. He wasn’t ready for the news I’d come to give him.

  He tensed as if guessing my thoughts. Bit by bit, he forced himself to relax. I watched his shoulders fall, even as he lifted his chin. Bracing himself. “What is it you’ve come to tell me then?”

  I looked behind him into the house. “Is your brother home?”

  “No.”

  He didn’t offer anything more. I softened my voice, trying to use the same tone I’d have used any other time to give someone such terrible news. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but it seems your friend Stasya was murdered.”

  Charbel’s face remained a formal mask of indifference, but there was no mistaking the flare of flame in his eyes. I thought I saw the vein in his temple bulge, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “You have proof?” he asked quietly.

  I nodded slowly. “I do.” I didn’t tell him that proof was in the form of a dismembered body. Ifrits might be violent creatures, but there was a world of difference between being capable of violence, and being unfeeling to the violence suffered by a loved one.

  “Perhaps you’d allow us to come inside?” I asked gently.

  For a second, I thought he’d say no. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to let us in. Then he sighed and stepped back. “Very well. But remember that I tried to warn you not to pursue this.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck lifted, and I fought to keep the unease from showing in my expression. Liam was here with me, Peasblossom was in the truck ready to call for backup, and Aaban wasn’t home. There wouldn’t be a better time to talk to Charbel. And being a guest in his house would provide some protection.

  The old house smelled like dry wood and lacquer under the musty scent of crumbling brick, and I had the semi-hysterical thought that one spark is all it would take to send this entire building into flames. Then again, if you were an ifrit with the power to control flame, maybe a house fire wasn’t such a scary thought.

  “Forgive me for being rude, detective, but you look like you’ve had a rough day and it’s only one thirty.” Charbel gestured to Liam’s face as he came to a stop in a small sitting room. “May I ask what happened?”

  “We visited the Fortuna’s Stables racino,” Liam answered, blue eyes watching Charbel’s face closely. “Specifically, the sub-basement under the parking garage. We heard Stasya was there the night she was murdered.”

  This time I saw the effort it took Charbel to keep a straight face. He gestured to a small brown leather couch, but I opted to stand.

  “Stasya was a strong, energetic woman,” he said. “The racino offered her a chance to work off some of that energy.” His eyes burned brighter for a second, flickers of orange flame against black velvet. “She was a sight to behold when she fought. A true warrior.”

  “You knew she was there that night?” I asked.

  He nodded. “She went a few times a week, if Aaban had nothing for her.”

  Liam shook his head. “I’m surprised Aaban didn’t object. I can’t imagine he liked seeing his employee put herself in that kind of danger.”

  “Aaban didn’t like it,” Charbel admitted. “But he understood.” He stared at me. “Contrary to what Mr. Walsh would have you believe, my brother is not a bad man. He is merely determined to make a difference in the atrocities we’ve witnessed. He wants to move beyond punishment and start preventing some of the violence, some of the problems.”

  “When we spoke before, I got the impression that Stasya was sent for spe
cifically, because she had the skills necessary for the job Roger assigned Scoria. Was Aaban able to replace her in time to salvage the job?” I asked.

  “He was. Aaban is a smart man, and a skilled strategist. He was able to work out a new plan in time. However, it took more time, and cost more money, than it would have if Stasya had been able to fulfill her role.”

  “What was the job?” I asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details. Roger, much like the government, insists on absolute discretion for sensitive work.”

  I shared a look with Liam. It sounded like Charbel believed there would be another job from Roger. Did that mean he didn’t know what happened?

  “When did Aaban come up with his plan B?” Liam asked. “Before or after Stasya went missing?”

  “Before. My brother always has a backup plan.” Charbel’s tone grew suspicious. “Why are you asking these questions?”

  Now things were going to get touchy. My magic rolled inside me, and I let it rise to fill my palm, ready to defend myself if Charbel reacted poorly to the next line of questioning. “I spoke to someone at the fight club. She said Stasya left with Aaban the night she disappeared.”

  I’d expected shock, or maybe anger. Charbel just looked confused. “That’s not possible. Aaban was here with me.”

  “The whole night?” Liam pressed. “He didn’t leave at any time?”

  “He was here,” Charbel said firmly.

  “Was he in the building, but you were in different rooms, or did you have eyes on him the entire time?” I asked.

  Charbel opened his mouth, but the sound of the front door being thrown open cut him off. Liam took a step to the side, almost but not quite standing in front of me as Aaban stormed into the room, dragging another man with him.

  Adrenaline shot through my system as I stared at Aaban’s prisoner. His arms were bound behind his back and he was shirtless, giving me an unimpeded view of the angry rash spreading over his pale skin. Dark flecks clung to him, and I hissed as I realized he was covered with iron shavings. His brown hair was cut close to his head, enough that I could see the sweat beading at his temples. He had the slender build of a high-born sidhe, and when he saw Charbel, a muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “Aaban, what’s going on?” Charbel asked carefully.

  Aaban’s attention was set on me and Liam, his eyes a solid black that promised trouble. He hefted something in the hand not holding his prisoner, and I tensed.

  “That’s a very big gun,” I said, loudly enough for my voice to be picked up by Liam’s phone. “We’re having a civilized conversation here, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

  Aaban gestured at his prisoner, but his eyes never left mine. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

  Chapter 17

  My pulse roared so loud in my ears, I almost missed what he said. “My friend? I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  “What’s going on?” Charbel demanded, looking from the sidhe to me and back.

  “I don’t—”

  “You’re going to pretend you don’t know him?” Aaban’s mouth tightened in a thin line. “I found him outside near the window.” He gestured with his head to the window closest to where we were standing. “He was listening in. I suppose he’s your backup?”

  “He’s not our backup,” I protested. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  Aaban snorted. “You’re telling me you came here with an injured detective to talk to a demon? A demon I assume you believe to be involved in a murder.” He sneered. “You do think I’m involved, don’t you? That’s why you’re here, to ask my brother about me.”

  “I’ve never seen this man before,” I repeated. I looked at the fey in question. “Tell them. They know you can’t lie, tell them we don’t know each other.”

  The man didn’t respond. His skin twitched, and the redness continued to spread like a rash as the iron flakes clinging to his skin continued to burn. The only sign that he even registered the pain was the set to his jaw. He didn’t look at me, or Liam, or the ifrits. Instead, he took in his surroundings as if memorizing every detail. Planning an escape.

  Charbel shook himself free of his stupor and walked the perimeter of the room, closing the drapes to each window as he went.

  Aaban tightened his grip on the gun and his grip on the sidhe’s arm. “Go ahead and move. Give me a reason to shoot you with your own gun.”

  “Wait a minute,” Liam said. “Let’s all calm down. No one has to shoot anyone. This is all just a big misunderstanding.”

  “Indeed?” The good humor drained from Charbel’s face, and his eyes faded to black to match his brother’s. “Perhaps it is. Why don’t you tell me why you really came here?”

  “I came here to tell you about Stasya’s passing.” I tried not to look at Aaban. If he was the killer, then he had a very good reason to keep me from saying too much to his brother.

  “And to ask me again about my brother’s whereabouts. Why would you ask the same questions, if you didn’t have new information that made you think I might change my story?”

  I squared my shoulders and forced myself to keep meeting Charbel’s hauntingly dark gaze despite the sweat forming at my temples. Why wouldn’t the sidhe tell them he wasn’t with us? He was going to get us all killed. “It’s difficult to have a civilized conversation while someone’s life is being threatened. Perhaps Aaban could put the gun away?”

  “You’re stalling. Tell me why you’re really here, and why you brought him.” He jabbed a finger at the fey.

  “I did not bring him here,” I insisted. “I didn’t know he was here.”

  “If you don’t know him, then this won’t bother you.”

  Aaban put a hand on the sidhe’s neck. Flames licked outward from his fingers, flowing over his victim. The sidhe screamed through clenched teeth as the air filled with the smell of burning flesh.

  “Stop it!” I choked on the last word and had to swallow before I could speak again. “That proves nothing and you know it. Friend, stranger, or foe, I don’t want to see anyone tortured.”

  “You’re lying.” Aaban called his flames back and removed his hand, revealing red, ruined skin where he’d touched his victim. “You’re here with Ian’s blessing. He sent you here, with one of his own guards for protection. You’re here to turn my brother against me. And the more fool you, for thinking he’d believe your lies. Go back to your sidhe master and tell him he’ll have to learn to live with competition.”

  The sidhe breathed in and out through his nose, the sound ragged. He’d heal slower, covered in iron shavings as he was. He stared down at the ground, refusing to meet my stare. I’d always thought a soldier gave his name, rank, and serial number when he was captured. This man seemed disinclined to offer any clue to who he was. I wasn’t sure if it would help me if he came right out and said he’d followed me without my knowledge, but it would be nice if he tried.

  “No one is trying to frame you,” Liam said. His voice was deeper, as if his beast were closer to the surface, ready to come if he called. “We came alone.” He nodded toward the sidhe. “I’ve never seen him before, and I didn’t know he was here.”

  “Neither did I,” I repeated.

  “So you’re trying to tell me that you have no connection to Ian?” Aaban looked at me, pinning me in place with a hard stare. “Tell me the truth, Ms. Renard.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but suddenly it occurred to me that Aaban may have been following me. Or having me followed. What if he knew about my lunch with Ian? What must that look like? Worse than that, what if he knew about how Ian had helped me at the Temple residence? He may have saved my life. What were the chances the ifrit would believe he’d done it for a twisty tie?

  “Ian is a suspect in Stasya’s murder,” I said evenly. “And that’s how I’m treating him.”

  “A very fey answer for a witch,” Aaban said, his lip curling in disgust. “If you’re not working f
or the sidhe, then I won’t find any surveillance equipment on your person, will I?”

  He nodded to his brother and Charbel circled the table to get closer to me, holding my eyes the entire time. There was nothing in his black eyes I could reason with. Just cold fury.

  I didn’t protest when he patted me down, even when Liam growled his thoughts on the matter. And I didn’t warn him when he unzipped the pouch at my waist and reached inside.

  Charbel hissed and jerked his hand free, falling back a step as he stared from the pouch to the pin sticking out of his hand. The silver sliver was topped with a red plastic ball, and there was a thin purple Post-it on it that said “Red pin.”

  “Enough games.” Aaban pressed the tip of the gun barrel to the back of the sidhe’s head. The sidhe sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t close his eyes. “Why are you really here?”

  “This is why,” Liam snapped. He took a quick step toward me and snatched the baobhan sidhe’s cell phone out of the side pocket of my pouch. Aaban and Charbel tensed at the sudden movement, but they made no move to attack. Two sets of empty black eyes watched as Liam showed them the call log, with Aaban’s phone number front and center.

  Aaban frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nathan called you. Your personal number,” Liam said evenly.

  “So?” Aaban said again.

  “So, Nathan is the one who killed Stasya,” I said.

  Aaban and Charbel both froze.

  “What did you say?” Charbel demanded, his voice hoarse.

  “Stasya was killed by a baobhan sidhe.” I nodded toward the phone. “That baobhan sidhe. We found his blood at the scene.”

  Everyone in the Otherworld associated ifrits with violence. And there was a reason for that. Once they chose to exact their revenge, the result was a nightmare even to the monsters of the Otherworld. But what many people did not know was how carefully an ifrit tended the flame of their temper before they took that revenge.

  Dark black orbs stared at me, somehow more empty and cold than ever. Gooseflesh spread down my arms as I imagined I could hear their thoughts. Hear the screams they already envisioned extracting from the baobhan sidhe. I was surprised to see Aaban’s reaction. Either he was much better at deception than I’d expected even from a demon, or he was genuinely enraged by Stasya’s murder. I had no such doubts for Charbel. That fire had been lit, and when he acted on it…