Raindrops pelted the sidewalk, and a steady breeze whipped through Beaumont’s hair, blowing a few, wet strands over his eyes. Outside the club’s entrance hung a sign in bright red neon letters, The Mac Club, the “M” flickering in an uncanny rhythm. Iron bars covered the darkened windows and the tiny opening in the middle of the thick wooden door.
The scent he’d picked up from the pickpocket’s jacket indicated she’d been in the area. Yet, this place was not what he’d envisioned. What had he expected? Good question. A trendy new Thai food joint, a gym, a movie theater perhaps? No, he knew better than that.
Merde… He struggled to fathom how he’d allowed the thief to not only steal his wallet, but his spark stone as well.
At the first sign of dusk, stiff and sore from sleeping in the overstuffed chair, he’d left Wynne’s before she’d come down the stairs. He hadn’t wanted to deal with her or her familiar, Neira, a moment longer. Since he couldn’t return to his stone gargoyle without his spark stone, he was empty-handed. Thank the gods Wynne kept some extra clothes for the warriors in case of emergencies. At least he’d snagged a new shirt and pants on the way out.
After homing in on the pickpocket’s general vicinity, he’d found himself in the alley at the scene of the crime. The door the thief had emerged from last night had no handle, the word “Exit” emblazoned in red across the dark metal. Unable to enter he’d strode to the other side of the building, his frustration mounting with each step.
Even now, he curled and uncurled his fingers into a fist. He’d die without his spark stone. How much time did he have left? Less than a week. No time like the present to get a trace on that damned pickpocket and retrieve his stone.
He opened the door, water dripping from the ends of his hair. A woman dressed in a snug skirt and a tight, low-cut blouse stood in a small alcove. Her attention flicked from his hair to his chest and further south before meeting his gaze. A seductive smile tugged at her lips. She leaned forward, giving him the full view of her ample bosom.
“You must be the new guy. You’re a bit early. Most dancers won’t arrive for another half hour or so. You can get dressed,” she giggled and pointed over her shoulder, “or undressed, rather, in one of the dressing rooms. They’re behind the last stage.”
Irritation flared at his temple, but he held it in check. She might have some useful information, and he didn’t want to lose his chance by pissing her off. With a forced smile and a shake of his head, he pointed to the largest of the three stages. “I’m not a dancer, but I’m—”
She placed a hand over her exposed chest, her eyes wide. “Oh, my mistake. If you’re here to watch the male performers, we’re not quite open yet—”
“No, no. Not that. I’m here to find someone.”
The woman blinked. “Find someone? Who?”
“A young woman, early twenties. Petite, short, dark hair with a bit of pink behind her ears. Sound familiar?”
Her brow furrowed. “Um no, but,” her eyes brightened, “you can ask Kevin. He knows just about everybody that comes in here. He’s by the bar, over there.”
A man stood behind an old-fashioned saloon-type bar against the far wall. Framed by deep mahogany, the giant mirror stretched from the counter to the ceiling. Alcohol bottles of all shapes and colors lined the shelves. Kevin’s back was to Beaumont. His T-shirt read, “I speak fluent sarcasm.”
Perfect. We’re on the same wavelength.
Beaumont returned his attention to the woman. “Thank you…”
“Candy, name’s Candy.” She pointed to the name tag pinned to her sleeve.
Funny how’d he’d missed that before. “Thanks, Candy.”
“Anytime. If you don’t find the gal you’re looking for, I’ll be around.” She cast him a flirtatious look from under her eyelashes.
The back of his throat burned. Tired and bored of casual sex, he had no intention of taking her up on the offer. As he strode toward the bar, her soft sigh followed him.
Kevin turned, a pilsner glass in one hand, a cloth in the other. Blue eyes, the color of frosted ice, held Beaumont’s gaze.
After a long moment, Kevin raised his chin in greeting. He wiped the cloth around the lip and set the glass on the counter. “What can I do for you?”
Beaumont placed his palm on the bar and squared his shoulders. “Candy said you had a good bead on your customers. I’m looking for a girl, maybe you know her.”
Kevin shrugged. “Perhaps. I know a lot of girls. Which one?”
“Young, early twenties, about this tall.” Beaumont held his hand at shoulder height. “She has short dark hair with pink tips under her ears. She was in here last night. You know someone like that?”
Kevin picked up another glass from a plastic dishwasher rack and wiped it clean. He studied Beaumont, his gaze raking from his face to his shoulders and back again. “Naw, doesn’t sound familiar.”
Beaumont’s jaw tightened. Even without his gargoyle’s preternatural abilities, he sensed the lie and the need. This man wanted a payoff. Fine, he’d do it his way if that’s what it took.
Beaumont smiled and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Tension froze his muscles in place. “Merde…”
No wallet. No money.
“What did you say?” Kevin’s eyes narrowed.
The urge to grab the guy by the throat and wring the information from him settled over Beaumont. There was a reason he had a questionable soul, and unknowingly, this man treaded on dangerous ground. If not for Rhiannon’s decree—protect the humans—he’d already have the guy in his grip.
Beaumont squeezed his hand into a fist, the joints popping from the pressure. “Where can I find her?”
Kevin took a step back. His mouth fell open. “Y…your eyes, they glow green. You’re an Otherworld creature. A gargoyle. I didn’t believe Mark when he told me he’d seen one, but now…”
“Well, now you’ve seen one up close and personal. Tell me about the girl.”
“I don’t know where she lives. She comes here now and then. I don’t even know her name, but I did hear her mention she likes museums and movies.” Kevin’s fingers shook so fast, the base of the glass rattled against the wooden counter. “T…that’s all I know.”
Beaumont studied Kevin a moment longer. When it was clear he wouldn’t get any more information from the guy, he turned and strode toward the exit. His booted feet echoed off the high ceiling with each step.
On the way out, Candy purred, “Come back and see me sometime.”
Beaumont waited outside a movie theater in the Logan Square district. The rain had stopped, but the breeze kept up its pace, whipping a few stray pieces of paper down the street. He stood in front of a poster advertising the latest X-Men movie. Blended into his surroundings, his mottled skin resembled Hugh Jackman as the Wolverine. At least the advertisement wasn’t of Cyclops.
As the theater doors opened, people spilled onto the sidewalk. The humans walked past him without notice, wandering down the street. His gaze darted from a young couple, hand in hand, to a pack of teenagers, to a single man. No sign of the little pickpocket. He seethed.
Over the last few hours, Beaumont had combed the nearby streets, searching for his tormentor, trying to find places she might look for targets. His need to find her, retrieve his spark stone, and return to his life, burned in his gut. During his search, he hadn’t run across any heinous fae. A part of him wished he had, so he could take out some of his frustration.
The crowd almost gone, he stepped away from the poster, and his clothes and skin returned to normal.
“Laroche!” Seth’s voice carried along the breeze.
Beaumont turned toward his friend.
Seth ran across the street, Finn close on his heels.
Seth removed his hat, wiped his hand through his hair then tugged the brim over his forehead. “What happened to you? You didn’t return to your post last night, and we couldn’t contact you via the mind-link. Drake is pissed.”
Beaumont exhaled. “Drake can bite my ass. I have a problem even he can’t resolve.”
Drake, their squad leader, was a stickler, requiring all gargoyles under his command to return to their posts every night. He wanted all his warriors at full strength. They had a job to do. Any gargoyle caught skipping out for a night had the Otherworld to pay.
Finn narrowed his gaze. “Must be somethin’ raw. Wha’ could that be?”
“Remember last night’s battle and that woman?”
“The thief?” Seth crossed his arms. “What about her?”
Beaumont gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to admit what had happened, but he couldn’t deny the truth. “While I was unconscious, she stole my spark stone.”
The color drained from Finn’s cheeks. “Naw, you’re coddin’ us. Give us a show.”
Beaumont tugged on the T-shirt’s collar, exposing the empty spot above his heart.
Seth removed his hat. Beneath his furrowed brow, concern sparked in his eyes. “Now that’s unexpected and unfortunate. I can’t speak for Finn, but let me help you look for her—”
Finn raised his hand. “I’ll help, too.”
An unexpected pang walloped Beaumont in the chest. That his cohorts would risk Drake’s and Rhiannon’s wrath spoke volumes for their friendship. One he didn’t deserve.
He struck his fist against his chest to clear the ache. “I can’t let you do that. Drake needs you on the front line more than ever. With Evan and Turner perishing a couple of weeks ago, our team is down too many members as it is. This part of the city is already at risk of being overrun by the fae. I’ll find her and be back on the job before you know it.”
Neither of his friends spoke, but he could tell by the compliant look in their eyes they agreed.
At long last, Seth cleared his throat and nodded. “You have a few days to find her before your strength and speed wanes, and the Critch starts to take over your body. If you can, douse yourself in water, snag some energy from a domesticated animal, or better yet, get down and dirty with a woman. That will prolong your power for a time.”
The Critch…
Tiny dark spindles of debilitating numbness that crept over a gargoyle’s limbs was a clear sign of impending doom. Beaumont clenched his teeth at the thought. He’d do whatever he needed to keep the Critch at bay for as long as possible.
Seth held out his palm.
Beaumont met the guy’s gaze, and they shook hands.
As Seth released his hold, he settled his hat on his head. “One other thing, keep your internal tracker powered. Without your spark stone we can’t chat over the mind-link, but we’ll keep tabs on you. If we see that girl, we’ll holler.”
Finn raised his index finger to his eye then pointed at Beaumont. “You’re a good man, mate. We’ll be around.”
Before Beaumont could respond, both Finn and Seth dematerialized.
As much as he’d tried to keep Seth and Finn at arm’s length, he felt a kinship with them beyond their common duties. The cold fingers of fear slithered along his spine. To allow anyone too close was dangerous. He wouldn’t put his friends at risk by having them help him.
He hardened his resolve, determined to find that pickpocket at all cost. Soon, at just before midnight, the Art Institute of Chicago’s after-hour event would release patrons. Perhaps the little thief had targeted this crowd. He broke into a run, zipping past unsuspecting humans in a blur. She would not escape him.