Fireborne, p.16
Fireborne, page 16
part #1 of Raven Cursed Series
After several more minutes of colorless conversation about me, the flowers in the garden, me, coffee, nature, me, music, and me, he asked if I had plans for the weekend. That was the final straw.
“Mephisto, this isn’t a date. You said we can help each other. We know how you can help me, how can I help you?”
“If I asked you out on one, would you go?”
Yeah, address that and not the real reason I’m here.
“I’d say no.”
“You don’t mix business with pleasure. Admirable.”
Everything had to be on his terms. That’s what this was all about, although, I thought, maybe I was just as bad in that regard.
“Not at all. I’m not interested in anything but your magic. Either discuss the agreement…” The rest of the sentence lingered.
I watched a thoughtful expression slowly eclipse his face; his assessing gaze traveled over me. Silence swelled. His chair moved in small movements from side to side in perfect time as if following the beats of a metronome. Anger rose in me as he took his sweet time. One kiss, one touch, one whisper of my words of power and magic could be mine. I’d never feel that hunger again. My desire would be sated. And the person standing between that life and this one was handling it with casual indifference.
“You’re being an ass,” I told him.
He nodded his head slowly, in consideration.
Is he wondering if he is being an ass? Who puts that much thought into it? Either you’re an ass or not. Let me help you out—trust me, you’re being an ass.
His lips beveled into a half smile. “Perhaps I am. I suppose impertinent as well. Now, can we discuss your behavior? Why not have breakfast and discuss things?”
Several times I looked at the exit and considered just walking out and putting all my hope in the Mystic Souls basket, but watching this opportunity slip away out of stubbornness wasn’t a good idea.
In the time I had made my demand and considered leaving, the food had unobtrusively been placed on the table.
“We need each other, so let’s eat and discuss it,” he said, placing a napkin on his lap.
Either way, he was in a stronger position. He knew I needed to talk to him to find out what he needed from me, and he had magic. Curiosity and desire and temper burned in me. My ego was a petulant child, urging me to walk out to make a statement: That’ll show him.
My ego was an ass, too.
I slipped back into the chair, placed the napkin in my lap, picked up my fork and knife and started to eat. With each bite, I was acutely aware of Mephisto’s gaze that kept slipping in my direction.
He took a few bites of his omelet and spoke. “You can go into the Veil,” he said. “The other Ravens couldn’t see the entrance. You can see it and travel through it easily. That’s a rarity.”
He put his fork down and stared at me.
“The Veil separates the two worlds,” I said to confirm.
He nodded. “Like here, there are places of beauty and some that it’s best to stay away from. The inhabitants are different. The magic, shifters, vampires are the attenuated version of what you will see and experience behind the Veil.”
“Do they choose to live there because it’s better?”
“No, not at all. Not better, just different. Simply the difference between cities, states, and countries. They have their own laws, rules, social norms, and everything you have here. There are parts that are breathtakingly beautiful, but you have that here, too.” His voice had become wistful.
“Me being able to go into the Veil means what?”
“If you can move through the Veil with ease, and if that’s true for most of the places there, you can retrieve something that was taken from me.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“I’ve been restricted from entering by the person who took my possession.” His face flushed and his eyes darkened, cutting to slants.
“You used to live in the Veil, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“So, Satan’s not from the underworld but inside the Veil,” I teased.
He flashed a smile. “I ruled it for a while, but I find I have far more challenges here—especially when dealing with a particular retrieval specialist.”
Did he escape, choose to leave, or was he expelled? What was stolen from him?
“What do you need me to get?”
“A box.”
“Pandora’s?” It wasn’t unreasonable to think that he was in the market for it.
He chuckled. “No, I know where Pandora’s box is. You know it’s not a box but a jar, right? Poor translation.” He frowned. “Humans now perpetuate the misinformation.”
“Box works better,” I offered.
“But a jar is safer.”
“Is it really?” Erin, seriously, are you having this conversation right now? I cast off further urges to debate the issue. “So, there’s a box and you need it?”
He nodded. I stopped eating. There was more to this than me just going into the Veil, getting a box, and returning it to him.
“What’s in the box?”
“The contents are irrelevant. I just need it out of the Veil and returned to me.”
“It’s very relevant. What’s in the box?” My eyes narrowed at the tension in the curve of his jaw.
He shook his head. “It’s not a danger to you or anyone else. But the content is something I won’t share.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s my secret to keep,” he offered tersely.
The box wasn’t a danger, that’s all I needed to know. Or was it?
“I’d never heard of the Veil before this,” I admitted.
“That’s understandable. It’s arcane and only accessible by some magic. Even those who possess magic only believe in that which can be seen. If they can’t see it with their magic, then it doesn’t exist. And so few can do it.”
“I get the box and then you give your magic to me, and we are done.”
“If you want to be done with me, then yes, we are done. But I want you to know, it’s not as simple as you seem to think it is.”
He took an extended time to gather his thoughts and I’m sure to give me as little information as possible. Enough to get me to agree to doing it but limiting information on the contents—the very thing that now had my undivided attention. Knowing what it contained would give me insight to who Mephisto really was.
I was finished with breakfast and my coffee by the time he spoke again.
“I need to find the location and then you can retrieve my item.”
“Why don’t I just Veil hop throughout it? Search until I find what you’re looking for. Do you have a picture of it? I can do it now and get it over with.”
I tamped down the excitement that rose at the thought and gulped a breath. The sharp breath that he inhaled made me straighten up and scrutinize him. Face unreadable, eyes darkened to a midnight shadow.
“That can’t be done,” he said.
After several beats of time passed and he hadn’t elaborated, I asked, “Why can’t it be done?”
“Your presence is known now. It’s safer to be specific about the location.”
“I could die?” No need to beat around the bush.
“All jobs come with the risk of injury or death. I got the impression that is what draws you to most jobs.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I didn’t say you did, but you’ve never shied away from danger. In fact, you strike me as the type of woman who seems drawn to it more than most.”
He tossed his napkin on the plate, pushed it away, and relaxed back in his chair to watch me.
“Danger I don’t have a problem with, but if this is a no-win situation, there’s no way I’m agreeing to it.”
“No situation is ever a no-win. It’s about the odds and whether they’re in your favor enough to take the risk.”
“Are they in my favor enough for me to take the risk?”
“I believe so, but you have time to decide. Are the benefits worth the risk? That’s something you should think about.”
He stood, his refilled coffee in hand, and went to the window, staring out of it again. For a man who draped himself in darkness, he seemed entranced by the beauty of the light. He remained silent.
I guess this meeting is over. It would have been nice to say, “Bye,” “Meeting over,” “Let’s chat later,” or something.
Taking another sip from my cup, I then stood and headed for the door.
He stirred and spoke. “I suspect Ms. Kelsey will be calling you in the near future. She was quite interested in your services. I spoke highly of your skills…of you.” Before I could exit, I heard him say, “If you work for her, I will not be taking my fee. This is fully your job.”
“Why, is she too demanding?”
He sighed. “She is quite delightful, but working with her should be rewarded with a bonus. It is only fair.”
It was Mephisto’s way of saying she was so high maintenance that a healthy incentive was required.
CHAPTER 18
Working for myself had its benefits. Forward my calls to my phone and when someone wanted to contact me for work, I was at home. Instead of engaging in typical daily activities—watching TV, cooking, or cleaning—I was meditating. Or rather trying to. My mind was firmly on Mephisto, his job, and the many facets of him and his magic. Four hours had been spent searching Google and all the magic and magic history books I owned. I had borrowed magic from many people, and they had all responded similarly. Not knowing what he was put me at a disadvantage. He couldn’t be the only one of his kind. If he could loan me magic and survive, more than likely they could, too. This opened limitless possibilities to me.
I sat in my pale-yellow room, candle burning, seated on a yoga cushion, trying desperately to forget the brush of his magic against my skin. It could be mine but at a cost. Was the cost too high? I wasn’t convinced there was a price I’d perceive as too high.
Interrogating him would be a start. Find out exactly what the chances and risks were and if they were in my favor. What would be an acceptable success-to-failure rate for me to take the job? Forty percent? Thirty? Ten?
Then there was the Mystic Souls, if Asher came through, but that was just speculation and wistful expectations. The book might have a spell that would work—but it might not. Mephisto was definitive.
I was about to text Mephisto again, to request another meeting, when my business phone rang.
“Phoenix Consultants,” I said in my administrative voice. I’m not sure why I did it. I wasn’t fooling anyone. This was a one-woman operation. There wasn’t an assistant, partners, or employees. Janus Consultants was my operation born out of need six years ago when I realized that a regular nine-to-five didn’t work for me. My year in the Stygian, which led to the failure of that business, gave the new business name, chosen initially for my love of the mythological bird, more meaning.
I kept my thriving business small with minimal operating expenses. The only reason there was an office was because I dealt with questionable people that I didn’t want in my home. Mephisto and other undesirables knew my address, which was why I was saving up to buy a home. Someplace I wouldn’t be easily found. Something outside of the city, probably in a rural area. I wasn’t opposed to living on a farm. A place where I could have some anonymity.
Speaking of questionable people, one was on the line. I recognized the soft, refined, mesmeric cadence the moment she said my name.
“Erin, this is Victoria.”
“Yes. What can I do for you?”
“Do you have any meetings with clients today?”
“Is there something you need?” I asked, evading the question and giving myself room to decline if necessary without lying.
Taking that as an indicator that I was free, she said, “My driver will pick you up in thirty minutes.”
Rarely did I allow clients’ drivers to pick me up. One, because most of the people I dealt with treated laws like mere suggestions and were often in need of someone to handle things that weren’t technically illegal but would probably need to be defended with counsel. They paid a really good price for it. There weren’t many jobs that I declined, but the rare times that I did, I wanted the option to drive away and not be subjected to their tantrums or refusal to bring me home. Occasionally I was called to a penthouse in one of the homes overlooking the city—those rides, I took. I hated driving in the city.
“I can meet you at my office,” I suggested.
“I’d prefer you meet me at my home. I have a pet I can’t leave alone and I have no one to care for her.”
Yeah, right. It was a power play, something I dealt with a lot.
“It is urgent that we meet as soon as possible.” Her voice didn’t sound urgent, but even if a building was on fire, she’d likely never crack her calm façade.
“What’s your address?”
“It would be best—”
“If it is in fact urgent, then you will be fine with my conditions. I drive to you. I don’t need an escort.”
Her exasperation wasn’t hard to miss when she exhaled into the phone.
“Fine.”
Slowly navigating the winding roads of her subdivision, I found myself asking the same question: How many homes did a community need to be considered a subdivision? Based on my count in Victoria’s community, five. My Camry looked totally out of place. A wrought-iron gate opened when I eased toward it. The metallic-painted brick exterior gave way to beautiful gray-and-silvery stone at the peaks of the home, which was surrounded by stretches of manicured lush lawn and willow trees. Hues of burgundy, gold, and sienna shrubbery flanked the building. The air was rich with the scent of flowers in the garden a few feet away. I made my way up the entrance and the door opened. A woman dressed in a black-and-white uniform greeted me.
Just as I suspected, someone to care for her pet.
“Erin, I presume.”
I nodded. She smiled. It was a welcoming one that I appreciated. It provided the warmth the stark home desperately needed. I stood in the marble-floored foyer, looking around. Rows of expensive-looking crystal in large cases. Stairs with decorative iron rails spiraled up from the foyer. The houseplants, flowers, and earth tones added a personal, welcoming touch to the home. The place was a contradiction to Victoria’s persona.
“Please follow me,” the woman directed as she led me to a room not far from the entrance. I appreciated that the meeting was in a professional setting. Victoria kept me waiting for nearly fifteen minutes. I started off seated in the oversized chair in the corner but quickly became restless and walked around the office that was half the size of my apartment.
The light-peach walls were complemented by a cream-colored oversized chair and sofa and in contrast to the deep-cherrywood executive desk and comfortable-looking leather chair. A built-in bookcase lined one wall, and the various first editions of classic books might be the reason for the glass doors on them because my first instinct was to flip through the pages. My gaze immediately went to the small bar on one side of the room and the coffee station on the other. I chuckled at the idea of walking into an office and having to decide between coffee or whiskey.
“My office amuses you?” Victoria inquired in that sultry purr that I realized wasn’t an act. The way it coiled around each word made everything she said seem teasing and cozy. I would have answered if my attention hadn’t immediately fallen to the snow leopard at her side. One that I quickly noticed wasn’t on a leash.
Increasing the distance between me and the cat, I kept my gaze firmly on it, my hand on the Taser at my waist.
“You won’t need that, silly. My kitten is harmless.” She knelt and it placed a large paw on her shoulder and licked her face. It certainly behaved as if it thought it was a kitten and not a hundred-pound predator. If watching a predaceous beast wasn’t enough of a distraction, Victoria was dressed in an off-white suit, its opening revealing a printed chemise, an obvious effort to match her “kitten.”
Victoria stood with Murder Kitty at her side, her appearance the embodiment of her exclusive establishment. I didn’t get the appeal of Kelsey’s. It was advertised as a restaurant, but it was more of a bar with nicer seating and fancy-schmancy food and drinks. Perhaps I wasn’t urbane enough to appreciate the appeal. People flocked to the place like they were selling ambrosia. It was one of the few bars that actively catered to both humans and supernaturals. Not that any place discriminated, but based on advertising and branding, it was always apparent who they wanted as their clientele. At Kelsey’s, if you could afford their overpriced drinks and food for the simple pleasure of listening to the short list of elite performers, they didn’t care if lasers shot from your eyes; you were welcome. During their grand opening, it only took two drinks, an appetizer, and the three-figure bill for me to recognize that I wasn’t their clientele.
Victoria exuded the same level of luxury and exclusivity in her home. Waving her hand in the direction of the chair where I’d been sitting, she invited me to sit again. I couldn’t. Instead, rooted in position, my eyes ran over the animal, looking for any magical marks, runes, or medallions that force a shifter to remain in its animal form. Then I looked at its eyes.
“It’s not a shifter,” Victoria said. “That’s illegal and frankly cruel. This is my pet. She wandered into our campground when she was just a kitten. Poor little thing. Her mother had been killed. She was so tiny. Look at her now, she’s still petite. She’d never have survived in the wild.”
Victoria needed to search for the words “petite” and “kitten” because she obviously wasn’t familiar with the words. The tight smile on my face was making my jaw ache.
Victoria studied me for a moment, then gave a small sigh and clipped the leash in her hand to the animal’s collar. I highly doubted that she could control it if the animal became aggressive. I kept my hand close to the Taser and mentally checked my concealed weapons before taking a seat. I didn’t want to hurt the animal, but nor was I going to be mauled.
Victoria sat in a chair across from me. “Pearl,” she whispered, signaling her leopard to sit at her feet. She offered me a drink but I declined. This wasn’t a social visit and I wanted to keep my reflexes sharp.
