Black hat 8 gray seas, p.16
Black Hat 8 - Gray Seas, page 16
“You sound familiar with the process.” I twisted to face him. “Got any tattoos?”
Leaning forward, he shrugged out of his black suit jacket, hung it on the back of his chair, then rolled up the sleeves on his white button-down to expose his forearms. “A couple.”
From wrist to elbow, a mural of angels versus demons—the fictional kind—battled across his skin.
“Oh wow. That’s beautiful.” I caught Asa watching me. “Though I prefer piercings, myself.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Isiforos chuckled. “That’s what all the girls say…while their inkless guys are present.”
A flutter along the underside of Asa’s jaw betrayed his unhappiness with my interest in Isiforos’s art, and I couldn’t resist running a finger along the twitching muscle. “Jealous?”
Fascination was a force unto itself, propelling us toward bad decisions and rash actions, but he’d mastered his reactions much better than me. Though, to be fair, he had grown up knowing it could happen to him.
I, on the other hand, had been clueless and still suffered regular bouts of crippling possessive rage.
So, yes, it was nice to discover a sliver of his unshakeable control unraveling before my eyes.
“Murderous,” he rumbled, nipping my fingertip.
“Aww.” Marita clasped her hands. “The couple that murders in jealous rages together stays together.”
“In prison,” Derry agreed. “Maybe they could get adjoining cells?”
A text chime distracted me from the heat in Asa’s eyes, and I straightened after I read Colby’s update.
“We have footage from the scuffle the barista mentioned,” I told them. “Let’s get out of here.”
Human hearing wasn’t the best, but if the barista overheard, things would get awkward fast.
Already I was debating if we should have someone drop by and fudge the woman’s memory of events.
A shudder ran the length of my spine as I pictured what could happen to her if the Lyonnes discovered they had a potential witness for any of their public doings working late hours—alone—down the street.
“I booked a room at a boutique hotel just up the road.” Isiforos shrugged. “We could go there.”
“Works for me.” I noticed he’d parked his identical SUV next to ours. “We can plan our next move there.”
“Then follow me.” He climbed in his vehicle and lowered the window. “This should be interesting.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Interesting was an understatement. Despite the queen-size bed mounted to a base in the far corner, and the twin bed in a cozy loft above a quirky but cute bathroom, the room Isiforos booked for himself was tiny. All of us couldn’t stand in a line and close the door without leaving two people in the hall.
“We’ll go up,” Marita volunteered. “Come on, Derry.”
The wargs climbed into the twin loft then scooted to the edge that overlooked the queen bed.
“Lovebirds first.” Clay indicated Asa and I should climb onto the mattress. “We’ll take the floor.”
Once we got settled in, Clay and Isiforos sat with their backs against the wall, facing the bed. Even then, they had to sit cross-legged to fit in the gap. This hotel was a master class in maximizing available space, I had to give them that, but they hadn’t remodeled the building with four-hundred-pound golems in mind.
“This is my home.” Clay grunted as his knees creaked under the strain. “I live here now.”
“You’re fine.” I laughed softly. “Let’s get to the video, shall we?”
A dinosaur roar blasted through the room, and half of us jumped as Isiforos tugged out his cell.
“I have an appointment.” He scrolled down his screen. “Tonight at ten.”
“How did you manage that?” Derry glanced over at him. “Do you have a secret handshake?”
“Yes,” he deadpanned. “I push my hand through the screen, shake what’s on the other side, and I’m in.”
Above us, Derry and Marita snickered like kids at a slumber party and ducked into their loft to giggle.
The rest of us waited for an actual response that could explain how he got in before the long-suffering barista, when she had been trying for years.
“Piercings are an agonae thing. Ink is a miserae thing. We get tattoos to represent milestones in our lives and achievements. I’ve got a lot of experience tracking artists across various social platforms until I find one they check daily.”
“Smart.” I rested my chin on my palm and my elbows on my knees. “Very smart.”
“And I might have tipped the odds in my favor by using an oldie but a goodie.” He chuckled. “If you type I’m in miserae without you in your subject line, most para artists chomp at the bit to get their needles in you. Not only does a good tattoo open you up to more miserae daemon business, but it’s an honor to mark our skin. One we don’t bestow lightly.”
“That is super cheesy,” Clay said, “and I super love it.”
“Don’t pretend,” I cut in, “you didn’t write I’m golem crazy without you in your last text to Moran.”
“How did you…?” His gaze dipped to his jacket, his expression one of understanding. “That little snoop.”
Before we got sidetracked into a discussion involving people Isiforos didn’t know existed, namely Colby, I hauled us back on topic. “Isiforos, can you tour the shop, that kind of thing? Or is it straight down to business?”
“Depends on the artist, but I can push my case.” He shrugged. “They knew I was miserae when they extended this invite. They know we come with conditions.”
“Does that mean you can get out of the tattoo?” I bit my cheek. “I didn’t know my ask was so big.”
Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine Asa letting someone randomly choose his next piercing.
“Neither did I,” Asa confessed. “You don’t have to go through with it.”
“The artist is phenomenal, so I’ll sit for him. It’ll give me an excuse to spend a couple hours in the shop, and I can get a better read on him and anyone else there.” His lips twitched. “Does this count as a tax write-off since it’s a business expense?”
“I’ll do one better.” I jerked my chin at Clay. “Get his receipt, and we’ll reimburse him.”
“Will do.” Clay made himself a reminder. “What about the rest of us?”
“You hang back,” I decided on the fly. “You can back up Isiforos if he needs it.”
We were due for an update on Nan, and that would go easier if Colby had access to her laptop. Plus, she had been stuck in his pocket, however comfortable it might be, for too long tonight. She deserved a chance to stretch her wings and enjoy the lavender honey stick Clay thought I didn’t notice him buying for her at the coffee shop.
“Asa and I will keep an eye on Essex.” I searched for the goofballs in the loft. “You guys take downtown.”
“Do you really think the carver will strike again?” Marita inched forward until she hung over the edge. “This would be his—or her—third victim.”
“If he holds to his pattern, yeah.” I puffed out my cheeks. “Fingers crossed he’s right on time.”
A murderer who murdered people planning to murder me wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen to me. If I had assurances he would continue to lurk in the shadows, I would be tempted to give him a free pass. But I had this prickling dread that warned he was biding his time.
Until I was the one ruing the day he finally caught up to me.
For tonight’s surveilling pleasure, Asa and I helped ourselves to a roof central to the action with a prime view of Essex Street. From Brown Bat Curiosities, we could see the length of the pedestrian mall in both directions. I doubted we’d see more action from the Cale brothers or the courier who made the king killer drop, but the carver frequented areas where I had been. This was as good a place as any to stand watch.
A few hours later, when nothing interesting happened, I regretted assigning the Mayhews street patrol. I envied them the ability to stretch their legs.
“I’m going to check in with Clay.” I turned my back on the street. “See if he’s learned anything new.”
Wind teasing dark strands free of his braids, Asa nodded he would cover my post.
Clay picked up so fast, I thought for a second I might be answering his call, so I said, “Hello?”
“Hey, that’s my line.” He chuckled. “Do you have an update, or are you calling to get one?”
“I’ll take one if you’ve got it.” I strolled the roof, scanning the unlikely quadrants. “It’s dead here.”
“Isiforos is fangirling so hard, I’m concerned we won’t get anything useful out of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last three texts he’s sent have been of the sketch, the stencil, and the outline of his new tattoo.”
“That’s good, though, right? It means they don’t suspect him. They’re treating him like a regular guy.”
“With them hovering over him, we won’t get deets until he gets back here. So, nothing actionable from him tonight.” He paused to answer a question from Colby. “Shorty wants to know if she can design a logo for her guild and have T-shirts printed for everyone.” He paused again. “She says you can take it out of her paycheck.”
“I’m going to do something dangerous and trust you to oversee this endeavor.” I already regretted not requiring a proof prior to him ordering. “I need to get back to it. I’ll check in if we hit any bumps.”
The call ended, and I drifted over to Asa, who looked unearthly with the moonlight slashing across his face.
“How did I get so lucky?” I tucked myself under his arm. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
With his profile just so, I was able to catch the flood of heat burning through his cheeks. He wasn’t used to being seen. But I intended to remind him as often as possible that he was never lost in the background to me. He was front and center in my thoughts, and in my heart, at all times.
“I’m trouble,” he corrected. “I’ve brought even more danger to your door.”
“Then we truly are soul mates. Didn’t you hear Marita earlier? Trouble follows wherever I go.”
“That…” he leaned down to capture my lips, “…is accurate. I would follow you anywhere.”
Before we had a real chance to enjoy a Clay-free romantic moment, a whoosh of air cut past my ear, and a ferocious sting made that side of my head burn.
Flames burst to life around me, and Blay threw himself on top of me, protecting me with his wide back.
“Hi, Rue.” He grinned wide as his long hair smacked me in the face. “Blay protect Rue.”
“Thanks, big guy.” I touched my ear, and my fingers came away wet. “That was an arrow.” I checked the wound again. “Who uses those anymore?”
“Elves,” he said earnestly. “Fae too.” He stared down at me. “The orc scourge is strong.”
Video game logic wouldn’t help me right now, but he did get me thinking. “We need that arrow.”
The fletching might tell us who had shot at me. The tip might too.
“Blay protect Rue.” He wrinkled his nose. “Blay smell archer.”
“Fascinating.”
The cultured voice snapped my head toward a lean man dressed head to toe in black. Leather pants and boots, billowing silk shirt with a strip of black fabric that lent him a Zorro vibe. Even the bow slung across his back was black. So was the black quiver full of arrows with black fletching.
I bet the guy was real put out he had been born with dusky-rose skin that clashed with his aesthetic.
Who does this guy think he is?
“Thanks for the piercing.” I ignored the stinging reminder of his poor aim. “I’ve always wondered how I would look with earrings.”
“You are quite welcome.” The man tore his gaze from Blay to beam down at me. “I thought a warning shot appropriate.”
“Um, yeah.” I tapped Blay’s arm, but he wasn’t budging, leaving me in an awkward position for a chat with the archer. “How can I help you?”
“I believe you’ve received my application to join the queen’s guard.”
“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” was the most intelligent thing I could think to say.
“Humor.” He pointed at me. “I knew you would appreciate my joke.”
The sinking feeling in my gut wasn’t only to blame on the daemon sprawled across it. This guy was nuts. I had no idea who he was, why he thought I was accepting applications, or what joke I was missing.
“Blay like jokes,” he said, keeping a wary eye on the man. “What funny?”
“Does he not know?” The weirdo belted out a laugh. “I had heard there was some division within our high prince, but this? Remarkable. Shall I tell him, or would you like to do the honors?”
“I don’t want to steal your thunder.” I pasted on a weak smile. “The floor is yours.”
“It is my understanding that you will soon seize the throne.” He adjusted his posture into sharp lines. “You have a centuria to guard you, but our future queen has no such protection.”
Never mind that I was the deputy director of Black Hat, with the Bureau’s resources at my fingertips. Or that Asa was no longer heir, meaning neither of us were in danger of wearing a crown any time soon.
“It has long been a dream of mine to put my legendary skills to good use, but I hadn’t yet found a worthy cause.” He pulled a gaudy red keychain from his pocket. “Until I saw this.”
The groan pouring out of me rumbled in my throat, and I wanted to do murder.
The design on the circular token was a candid shot of Asa and me kissing above the slogan Asa for King.
“That was when I knew it was my destiny to become one of the queen’s guards and protect her with my life.” He slapped the keychain over his heart. “Rather than apply without references, I decided to provide evidence of my skills.”
The pieces clicked together into a big picture that blew my mind. “You’re the carver.”
“The Carver.” He said it with an audible capital C. “I like it.”
“Why shoot?” Blay got there ahead of me. “Carver hurt Rue.”
“That, ah, yes. Well, it was a miscalculation on my part. Wind and all that. I had hoped to make a grand entrance, but you two were otherwise occupied. I thought an arrow would draw your attention faster, so I could present myself with a flourish.”
“Carver hurt Rue,” Blay said again, his temper rising. “Carver not protect Rue.”
“I have to admit, he’s got a point.” I gave up on prying Blay off me and lay there. “Why carry the arrows if your weapon of choice is a dagger?” I didn’t point out he wasn’t very good with them if he was nicking the person he professed to want to protect. “It seems like they would weigh you down.”
The quicker I unarmed this fruitcake, the better for all involved, if he responded to flattery.
“True.” He dumped the quiver and bow at his feet then rolled his shoulders. “Much better.”
“This is how you usually dress to…” I forced myself to say it, “…protect me?”
“I also brought this.” He drew a bona fide sword from a scabbard attached to his hip. A cutlass, unless I was mistaken. Given the amount of Mystic Seas I watched rather than participated in, I was fast becoming an expert. “But a sword doesn’t fit my aesthetic as The Carver.” He tossed it aside too. “Though perhaps I ought to invest in more than one dagger?”
“Perhaps.” I debated the fastest way to get out of this. “Would you take an oath to do me no harm?”
“Highness, it would be my honor.” He swept into a low bow. “Shall I come to you?”
When Blay raised his upper lip, I patted his shoulder. “Let him.”
Mollified, he peeled off me and helped me stand, but he refused to let Carver near me.
“I came prepared with my own vows,” he announced. “Would you like me to begin?”
“Yeah.” I reached deep for my magic, the dark and hungry kind. “You do that.”
While he launched into a speech he had memorized for this occasion, I gathered the magic required to bind him from doing harm to me and mine. The spell crackled at my fingertips, but I held on until he finished his recitation. Then, before he knew what hit him, I touched his shoulder and loosed the spell. The stink of black magic whirled around him, and the Hunk grew warm against my chest.
Carver hit the shingles on his back with a dazed expression, gazing up at the night sky with a goofy grin.
Eager to put more bodies between him and me, I texted Marita and Clay with a rundown of the issue.
If Isiforos wasn’t still under the needle, I would have called to yell at him until I lost my voice for his father encouraging maniacs like this one.
Heat licked the side of my face as the transformation returned Asa to me.
“Do you think he understands you can’t be king?” I collected the arrow for later examination, and I got a hand on the sword too. “He’s applying for a job that doesn’t exist by killing off would be assassins before we learn why they’re targeting me.”
Sad to say, I was a prime target for myriad reasons, and a good defense required those answers.
“Kill the queen,” Carver slurred, his eyes glassy and bright with magic.
“We’re working on it,” I said offhandedly then pivoted back to Asa. “Isiforos Sr. has made a mess here.”
“Kill the queen,” Carver insisted again, clutching his head as he sat upright. “Kill the king.”
“The binding hit him harder than expected.” I almost felt bad for him. “He’s not making sense.”
With my thoughts homed in on Calixta, I hadn’t caught his earlier slip, but Hael had no queen. Only a king.
“It’s common knowledge we’re in fascination,” Asa mused, “but others also commonly assume we’re mates.”
