Mercenary Read online

  He wasn’t burning me yet, but the threat was there in the heat of his palm. My magic rose underneath my skin, snapping at my nerve endings, ready to lash out if necessary. I lifted my chin. “I only took this case on today. I have not had time to begin my investigation in earnest. I have no information for you at this time.”

  Aaban’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me what you do know.”

  “I know your employee—your friend, disappeared two weeks ago. I know Arianne is worried about her. I know if I find out what happened to her, you will be among the first to know.” I took a slow breath through my nose. “And I know that if you don’t release me immediately, our relationship will take a dramatic turn for the worse.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “She’s telling the truth, Aaban,” Arianne said, her voice begrudging. “I saw nothing of consequence in her mind.”

  I frowned at her, certain she’d meant that to be every bit as insulting as it sounded.

  Aaban released my arm, but he didn’t back away. “Arianne has told me about you, Ms. Renard. You should understand by now that there is a point at which a desire to help, however unintentional, only does more harm.”

  “I’ll make a mental note that your opinion of me is as low as Arianne’s. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other meetings to attend.”

  “Ms. Renard,” Aaban said, angling his body to block my path. “If I might add something?”

  “I hope it’s something that can support your alibi,” I said coolly. “Someone who can vouch for you besides your brother. Some place you went that might have security footage?”

  “No. But I do think there’s something you should know about Ian Walsh.”

  “Which is?”

  “His company, Underhill, does a great deal of damage to the places they operate. His men care only about reaching their objective as quickly and efficiently as possible, with no regard for the consequences of their actions.”

  His face grew serious, and the flames in his eyes lost some of their light, burning a deep crimson instead of dancing yellow and orange. “His men will pay off warlords, trade money or even guns for information and access. He could employ more magic users, or seek help from civilians. But instead he feeds the monsters that keep countries like my native Syria enslaved, drenched in blood and haunted with violence. I’ve seen villages full of ghosts, and places that were once full of beauty are now rotting away, echoing with cries of women and children.”

  His eyes darkened again, hardening into black coals that glittered with the promise of skin-searing heat. “He is a monster, and he employs monsters.”

  My phone chose that moment to alert me that I had a text message. “Excuse me,” I murmured.

  Aaban didn’t look away, but he didn’t object when I checked my phone. It was a message from Barbara, telling me I could meet with Roger now and asking how long it would take me to get there.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go.” I glanced at Arianne. “I’ll come back when I have more information. Assuming you’ll be willing to answer some more questions?”

  The sorceress gritted her teeth, but I didn’t know if it was anger over my refusal to be forthcoming, or if it was the pain in her arm growing worse. Scath rose to her feet and padded toward the door. She favored one side, but not nearly as much as I’d have expected her to.

  I looked to Charbel. He seemed more reasonable than his brother, if only slightly. “If you could give me your contact information, I’ll let you know when I find your friend.”

  Charbel’s face betrayed no emotion, but his hand went immediately to his shirt pocket. He slipped out a business card, then crossed to Arianne’s desk to fetch a pen. “I’m writing my home address and my personal cell phone number. Call me as soon as you find her. If you find her, and she’s hurt, bring her to me.”

  I thought his voice broke when he said the last line, but I couldn’t swear to it. I accepted the card. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to find her.”

  Aaban spoke up before Charbel could respond. “Ms. Renard? If you’ll allow me to give you one piece of advice?”

  “Yes?”

  “Walk away,” Aaban said softly. “I don’t know what brought this case to your attention, but believe me when I say nothing good will come from your involvement. Walk away now before it’s too late.”

  He didn’t block the door, but with the scent of burning flesh still lingering in the air, he didn’t have to get physical to be intimidating. I smiled as politely as I could and crossed to the doorway.

  “It was nice meeting you,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm.

  The ifrit didn’t look happy, and for a second, I thought he’d keep me from leaving. Arianne’s face was so tight with pain that I couldn’t read her expression. They all wanted me off the case. The question was, what were they willing to do to keep me from it?

  I didn’t run from the room as I marched down the hall and headed for the hotel doors.

  But it was tempting.

  Chapter 7

  “I thought we agreed, no more demons?”

  The burning red traffic light that bore an uncomfortable resemblance to an ifrit’s fiery gaze finally turned green, and I ignored the pixie clinging to my rearview mirror as I eased through the intersection. Ifrits. Why did it have to be ifrits?

  “Are you listening to me?” Peasblossom demanded.

  This time she gave her voice the shrill tone that always managed to sound as if her words were delivered on the end of a sharp ice pick plunged directly into my ear. I winced and shook my head. “Yes, I’m listening! And I want to be done with demons too. Blood and bone, you think I didn’t get my fill of demonic company on our last case?”

  I rolled my shoulders, trying to keep the tension from knotting the muscles in my neck. “I didn’t choose this case, it was assigned to me. And even if I’d had some say in the matter—which I didn’t—I had no way of knowing Aaban and Charbel Nassir were demons, did I? And I certainly didn’t expect them to be at Suite Dreams at the same time I chose to question Arianne.”

  Saying the sorceress’ name sent a chill down my spine even as I angled the car away from the city and toward the address Barbara had given me. Skyscrapers gave way to a stretch of suburban houses with lawns big enough to fit my house and two of my neighbors’. I wove through the pothole-free streets, turning onto a road with fewer houses and even bigger yards. Wrought iron gates around several homes added to a feeling of exclusivity, and the driveways stretched longer than the street I lived on.

  I frowned. “Arianne used a first aid kit on her arm after Scath bit her. Why?”

  “You use healing potions.”

  “I use healing potions because if I used a spell every time I was injured, I’d have no stamina left for self-defense,” I pointed out. “Arianne’s control is a lot more advanced than mine. She should have been able to heal herself without breaking a sweat.” I glanced in the rearview mirror at the big black feline in the backseat. “I think we need to learn more about Scath.”

  “We don’t have time to study the kitty, we need to get this case over with so we don’t have to talk to that woman anymore.”

  Peasblossom squirmed off the mirror and dropped onto the dashboard. In my car, her landing would have created a smudge in the perpetual layer of dust that covered the black plastic interior, but this was a rental.

  Somehow the dash just didn’t look right without the dust.

  “I don’t like it,” Peasblossom continued. “And she doesn’t like you. Even if she’s not involved in whatever happened to Roger, she’s going to find some way to make it your fault.”

  “Make what my fault?”

  “Something!” Peasblossom threw up her hands in exasperation. “She’s a suspect, isn’t she? You think she might have been the one to scare Roger, that’s why you went to talk to her. If that’s not a reason for her to hate you, I don’t know what is. And she already hated you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “No, I haven�
��t forgotten.” I let my head fall against the headrest and sighed. “I can’t believe our paths are crossing again.”

  “I can’t believe she said she threw away your gifts, including a perfectly good wine goblet.” Peasblossom’s pink brow furrowed as she plopped onto her behind and let her legs dangle in front of the digital clock display. “I could have kept that for a bathtub. It was the perfect size! If she didn’t want it—”

  “We need to figure out if she’s involved sooner rather than later,” I interrupted. “If she’s not involved, the faster we clear her, the better chance we have of avoiding another dream shard.”

  Peasblossom shivered. “I don’t ever want to see another dream shard as long as I live.” She paused. “You still have the gauntlet that dwarven inventor Gundersson gave you, right?”

  “It’s in the pouch.”

  Peasblossom dropped to the gearshift before crawling toward my pouch. “I’m going to dig it out and charge it now. Better safe than sorry.”

  I didn’t stop her because she wasn’t wrong. “All right, let’s review what we know.”

  Peasblossom grasped the zipper and tugged. “Mrs. I-carry-a-gun-to-lunch-meetings says her husband went crazy the night of May 17th. Some anonymous text sent him running off with his sniper buddy and he was attacked by someone with a hallucinogen. Barbara thinks whoever it was wanted to destroy his credibility.”

  “But you and I know it probably wasn’t a hallucinogen,” I noted. “Ian owns one of the most successful PMCs in the country, so I have to assume their lab is top notch. If they haven’t found a hallucinogen in his blood work yet, then chances are Roger really did see monsters. Real monsters, not some chemically-induced hallucination.”

  “Possibility number one, he saw Aaban doing what ifrits do best.” She finished unzipping the pouch and leaned inside until the upper half of her body disappeared into the enchanted confines of the bag.

  “Aaban was in town, and he admitted he has no alibi beyond his brother.” I shifted uneasily in my seat. “I’ve heard stories about what ifrits do to the people they choose to punish. They’re not just savage, they deliberately keep their victims alive for as long as possible. The torture can go on for years.”

  “That’s because ifrits don’t punish people who kill once. They punish warlords and tyrants. People responsible for entire villages being wiped out, attempted genocide.” Peasblossom’s voice was muffled, coming as it was from inside the pouch, but even then I could hear the queasiness in her tone. “They make their victims suffer for every death they caused, and when they’re done, there’s nothing but ashes in the wind.”

  “That would definitely drive a man to the edge of sanity,” I agreed. “Second possibility, Stasya. Aaban said he just brought her over from Syria. Centaurs are a ferocious race by nature, and Syria isn’t the most peaceful place right now. If she was accustomed to feeding her more aggressive nature on a daily basis, then it’s possible the abrupt switch to a relatively peaceful day-to-day life might have left her feeling restless.”

  Peasblossom climbed all the way into the pouch, grunting as she tugged at something in the shadowy confines. “You think she popped out for a quick fight and someone found out about it and tipped off Roger?”

  “Otherworld fight clubs aren’t just some urban legend,” I insisted. “They’re real. Centaurs aren’t the only creatures that need to let off steam once in a while, and they’re certainly not the only ones trying to feed a lust for battle without getting on the Vanguard’s bad side.”

  Something poked out from underneath the pouch’s flap. I groped at the bit of metal and leather, pulling the gauntlet free. Peasblossom hung from the contraption like a pink price tag, her feet kicking in the air as I gently lowered her to the passenger seat.

  “Then of course there’s door number three,” she said, propping her elbows on the gauntlet and giving me a contemplative look.

  “Arianne,” I said grimly.

  “Yep. She lied about what she was doing the first time you asked her, there’s no reason to think she couldn’t have lied the second time. For all we know, she has been in Roger’s mind. If Stasya went missing, and Arianne thought that Roger might know something about it, then maybe she got in his head and pushed him too far.”

  “You think she’d believe he might have information on Ian’s activities because they’re friends?” I shook my head. “I doubt Ian would be so foolish as to let Roger find out about any of his less than legal activities.” I glanced at the GPS. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Barbara said Roger won’t tell her what he saw. You really think you can make him tell you?”

  “I know how to question a skittish witness,” I said firmly. “I’ll get him to talk to me. Worst case scenario, if I can’t get him to tell me what he saw, I should at least be able to get him to tell me where the tip came from, or even what exactly the tip said. Even knowing where he was when he had the fright would be something.”

  The GPS made its electronic arrival announcement, and I pulled into the long, winding driveway of one of the more modest houses on the block. An iron gate surrounded the property, but I’d scarcely touched the brakes when it swung open. Barbara had been watching for us.

  I noted the security cameras posted at intervals along the fence. And above the gatehouse. And in the sprawling oak tree in the front yard. And over the garage. And beside the front door. Small black cameras with glowing red lights sat around the property like a flock of ugly gargoyles, ruining the effect of the expensive landscaping and the beautiful lines of the house’s architecture.

  “Blood and bone, how many security cameras do they have?” I murmured.

  “More than they had a few weeks ago, I’m guessing,” Peasblossom answered. She eyed a black shape next to one of the security cameras. “I’m more concerned about that big raven.”

  “Stay under my hair, and it won’t see you. You’ll be fine.”

  I drove up to the garage and put the car in park. Barbara was outside waiting for me. She held herself with the same dignity she had in the restaurant, but there was tightness around her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She held a small clutch in front of her. I guessed the purse’s main purpose was to hold her gun.

  I got out of the car and nodded to her as I waited for Scath to exit the backseat. “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  She nodded once. “He’s here. I told him you’re a potential client, it’s the only way I could convince him to see you.”

  I hesitated. “Does he often meet with clients at home?”

  “He didn’t used to, but now he insists on it.” She gestured for me to follow her. “You’ll see why soon. And Ms. Renard?”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember what we discussed concerning confidentiality. If one word of this gets out, I will hold you personally responsible.”

  I didn’t appreciate the threat, but I let it go. Whatever I was going to find in that house, it had unsettled Barbara. And I got the feeling she didn’t unsettle easily.

  She led me around the back of the house to a door almost hidden by a truly stunning garden. The smell of lilacs and hyacinth mixed with the sterile scent of warm electronics, and I looked up to see another five cameras placed around the flowers and stone angels. Another familiar scent made me wrinkle my nose, and beside me, Scath sneezed.

  Garlic. Lots of it.

  “He’s hung it everywhere,” Barbara said grimly. “He’s growing it in the middle of several flower beds, and he’s hung it from every window and outside doorway.”

  She gestured, and I noticed the bulbs hanging beside the large sliding glass door she stood in front of. “Did he say why he hung all the garlic?”

  “No. He won’t discuss it at all, beyond having a full blown panic attack if I try to take it down.”

  The inside of the house didn’t smell any better. Scath hesitated before crossing the threshold, and I didn’t blame her. I was a big fan of garlic, but it wasn’t a smell I’d want ha
nging around me twenty-four-seven. For Scath’s superior sense of smell it had to be especially unpleasant.

  The scent had sunk into the thick grey carpet, and even the musky scent of the overstuffed leather furniture couldn’t fight the powerful herb. I resisted the urge to wave my hand in front of my nose, knowing it wouldn’t help, and followed Mrs. Temple toward the back of the house. She led me into a library and closed the sliding pocket doors behind us. The smell of garlic faded, beaten back by the scent of old books, wood polish, and a truly impressive collection of old-fashioned bowls of potpourri.

  I smiled gratefully, and Mrs. Temple nodded. “Please, have a seat. This is the only room I’ve managed to save from the smell. Barely. The potpourri is cloying, but still an improvement.”

  She waited for me to take a seat in one of the two wing-back chairs in front of the fireplace. Scath sat on the floor next to my seat. I’d refreshed her service dog glamour, so when I looked at her I no longer saw the ifrit-inflicted wound. The way she moved, she didn’t seem to be in pain, and I wondered if she’d healed even further, or if her pain tolerance was just exceptionally high.

  “I’ll tell Roger you’re here,” Barbara said briskly.

  She closed the door behind her to protect the room from the garlic invasion, and as soon as I was certain she’d gone, I stood. A picture on the mantle caught my eye, and I walked across the room to retrieve it.

  It was a photograph of Barbara and the man I assumed was her husband. Roger was taller than her, but not by much, maybe five nine. In the picture, they stood in front of a lake, dressed in clothes that made me think they’d been attending a fundraiser or other professional gathering at someone’s house. He wore a dark blue suit with a lavender shirt and grey tie, and she wore a beautiful navy blue cocktail dress that showed off her long legs.

  “Hard to believe the guy in that picture is afraid of vampires,” Peasblossom noted.

  The man in the picture had a full head of dark brown hair, only beginning to show signs of grey at the temples. His smile showed off a strong jaw that made up for the pug nose that had obviously been broken at some point, and the easy way he rested his hand on his wife’s hip with his arm around her made me believe the affection in the photograph.