Adrenaline coursed through my body, trying to pump motion into my slow, steady steps. Nervous jitters swam around inside my stomach. The coffee I’d drunk rose in my throat, burning its way up my esophagus. Despite this, a thrill rode me with each step I took. I shouldn’t be excited. After all, someone had locked Theresa Scott inside her mind, and if Alek and his cousins couldn’t help her, she would forever be in that state.
But still, I was elated at the thought of getting into a confrontation, especially with the man who had been pulling our strings all this time.
I should have been afraid.
The weight of the knife between my breasts gave me some comfort. Not physically—the warm metal wasn’t exactly in an ideal location—but knowing I had some protection kept my feet moving forward. The knowledge that Alek had my back also put me at ease.
Cristian had already put the guard to sleep. The man lay slumped in a chair, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth. I glanced in the direction where Alek had pointed out Unrie and couldn’t see either him or Darius. And Cristian was nowhere in sight. I stopped, wondering about that. Shouldn’t they be waiting?
Had Alek found Logan?
Turning back toward the way I came, I searched the now-empty hallway for Alek. He was also missing. I stood there, debating whether I should turn around.
Something didn’t feel right. Where were the doctors? The nurses? Patients?
The hairs on the back of my neck rose; I rubbed the suddenly chilled spot and waited, listening, hoping either Alek or his cousins would give me a signal.
Nothing.
Had it been five minutes?
A single moan carried out into the hall from Theresa’s room. I took a step forward, pushed the curtain aside, and peered in the dimly lit room.
The rhythmic beep of the monitors filled the slightly warm space. The bed sat at an angle in the corner of the room. Theresa’s head lay propped up on a single pillow. She looked peaceful—an illusion masking the war going on inside her head. I started toward her bed, my feet hesitant on the polished tile floor. I’d made it a few steps in when a click echoed in the room.
A gun being readied.
I jerked toward the sound.
Logan stepped out of the darkness as if he’d come from a tear in space.
With the gun pointing at Theresa, he raised a single finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet.
“We don’t have long. Step over to the window and climb out.”
I crossed my arms. “No.”
He took a single step toward me, putting himself halfway between Theresa and me. A smile played across his mouth. “I admire your defiance. But you have to realize, I will pull this trigger.” His gaze roamed down my body. “Now, step over to the window and climb out.”
“Why?” I asked, trying to stall.
“You’re trying to stall.” I really needed to work on my poker face. “I’m not going to harm you, Nicole Fontane. We just need to have a little discussion.” A wicked smile stretched across his face. “Promise.”
Indecision warred inside of me. He might be telling the truth. And if so, he was a threat to Theresa. The look in his eyes told me he would shoot her. Hell, he’d already fucked up her mind.
I started toward the window, moving slowly, hoping to delay long enough for Alek and his cousins to arrive.
“You want her to die?” he asked, his tone confused, as if he believed I was deliberately trying to get her killed. I didn’t know what to make of that. It left me a little puzzled and worried about the man’s state of mind. But still, he was right. Everything I did could impact her.
And he had a gun.
We were on the second floor, so jumping out the window wouldn’t hurt too much. I hoped. I went over to the already cracked window; a sign that I should have registered as odd when I first walked in the room and noticed the warmth. I slid the window open further. Warm air rushed in and brushed across my skin.
“Move,” he said, standing right behind me. I could elbow him. Pull the knife from between my breasts or scream. But none of those options would stop him for long.
Putting my leg over the window seat, I swung my other out so I was in a sitting position and looked down at the ground. Okay, this was going to hurt. I turned to tell him as much, and he shoved me out the window. I landed hard, barely managing to stay standing. My teeth bit into my tongue and my mouth filled with blood. I spat it out in the bushes. Pain radiated down my legs. They weren’t broken, and any damage that was done would heal quickly. But it didn’t stop the pain.
A thump alerted me to Logan’s arrival. Before I could turn around fully, he brought the gun down on the back of my skull.
Everything went dark.
Someone laid a cool cloth on my head. I touched the person’s hand, trying to figure out who it was. My mind was foggy, and I couldn’t quite place where I was or what was going on. I just remembered the pain. Slowly, fighting back the stabbing sensation filling my head, I opened my eyes and stared into the eyes of my kidnapper.
“Fuck you,” I muttered, and the bastard smiled.
“You were out for a while.”
I shifted, trying to sit up, and he placed his hand on my back as if to help. “Seriously?” I spat. Anger helped with the pain. “You’re trying to help?”
He stepped back but kept his gaze trained on me.
After a few embarrassing attempts, I finally managed to get in an upright position and regretted it immediately. The room spun. I closed my eyes. Maybe not the best idea with Logan staring at me, but if he wanted to kill me, he probably would have done it already. Besides, he said he wanted to talk. Hopefully, while he did, I could figure out how to escape.
I opened my eyes. “Where am I?” Logan pulled a knife out of his pocket. It took a minute for me to recognize the switchblade. “You actually fondled me?”
His mouth stretched into a smile. “Yes. Had to make sure you didn’t have any weapons.” He clicked the switch, releasing the blade. “Nice craftsmanship. Pretty sharp. It would have hurt if you stabbed me.” He tossed the blade on the bed and walked over to a table in the middle of the room.
I looked around. The place reminded me of Ezra’s small studio apartment in the back of his dojo. Only, unlike Ezra, Logan had furnished his space with strange knickknacks—odd figurines and decorative fans and masks.
“This place looks like a museum,” I said, shifting my legs over the bed. The pain was gone. I stared at them for a moment. A strange herbal smell wafted off them. And that was not the only problem. “Where the hell are my jeans?” I yelled.
“I couldn’t rub pain ointment on your jeans.” Logan turned to me, holding a cup of tea. “This can help your head if you drink it.”
I would ask how he knew I was in pain, but it had to be obvious. Still, his tender, loving concern was a bit creepy. “Umm…please don’t tell me you kidnapped me to be your bride or some other such shit.”
He barked out a laugh, the teacup shaking in his hand—spilling its contents on the floor. “Last week, I would have killed you and your friends. I would have loved to take down the great Alexandros Vaduvu.” His gaze went distant. “I’ll confess, seeing him gave me some concern. He has a reputation, and even I had never been stupid enough to confront him.” He gave me a look filled with confusion. “Was it you that neutered him? I mean, he didn’t even register me in the hospital.” He shook his head as if he were pained by the thought.
“Neutered?” It was my turn to look confused. And then I remembered Rachel’s offhand comment about Devlin letting Alek work with them, implying that Alek was somehow dangerous. Maybe he was.
“No. It was probably Devlin Grey that reined him in. I would love to kill him, too, but, he has always been off-limits.” He shrugged. “Now, do you want the tea?”
“Hard pass.” Fucking crazy bastard. And what did he mean Devlin had always been off-limits? “Now, give me your villain speech and either kill me or let me go.”
He set the cup down and pulled a chair over to the bed. “Your jeans are behind you,” he said, and straddled the chair.
I turned and found them folded up near the pillow I had been laying on. I wasn’t going to stand up and slide them on with him so close, so I grabbed the blanket and covered my legs. Pointless, he had already seen my legs. For all I knew, he’d seen everything. He’d definitely touched my breasts when he took my knife from me. I should’ve been pissed, but no, I was more curious than anything. And my damn curiosity was still getting me in trouble. I needed to get the fuck out of here. Trouble was, I didn’t know where here was. I mean, I could bum rush him. Take him by surprise. But I doubted that would work.
And besides, psycho had a gun.
But more worrisome was his brand of crazy. It just didn’t seem real. I expected him to be all menace and brooding. But instead, he reminded me of an old, crazy grandma reincarnated into a six-foot, bald-headed, (I’m not ashamed to admit) dangerously good-looking man.
Maybe I was still sleeping. Dreaming all of this. I pinched myself. Nope. Still here.
“Talk,” I demanded.
He cocked his head to the side. “Gerald Stewart claimed you were extremely observant. That doesn’t appear to be the case. Maybe helping you is a waste of time.” He actually looked disappointed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He jerked his head toward the apartment. “Look again.”
I glanced around the room, once again noting the strange collection of items. Were they memorabilia? “Did you inherent everything from your grandma?”
He smiled. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m a mind mage.” He leaned back, letting his forearms settle on the back of the chair, perfectly at ease.
I picked up the switchblade he so willingly gave me back. “I will use it.” He just sat there, waiting. My eyes went to the gun resting on his thigh. “But I know the saying about bringing a knife to a gun fight, so pass. You want me to attack you, don’t you?”
“Now who’s talking crazy?” he asked. “I assume Devlin gave you a gun?” How the hell did this man know so much about us? “From the look on your face, I’d say yes.” He stood, gun in hand a few feet away from me. “This apartment is maybe two hundred feet. I’m standing five feet away from you. The Tueller Rule surmises that within twenty-one feet, you could successfully overtake me with that knife in your hand.” He planted his feet and narrowed his eyes. “Care to try?”
Anger rose inside of me. I was sitting here, untied, allowing some deranged man who collected mystical creature figurines goad me into playing a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Or in this case: rock, gun, switchblade. I’d never heard of the Tueller Rule. It sounded like bullshit to me, like he’d made it up just for this scenario. His gaze bore into me. I had to choose my words carefully—not something I was used to doing. But I had to figure out what he was really up to. “You must think I’m insane,” I said, changing from a question to a statement, trying to gage his reaction.
Silence.
“You have a gun.”
Still nothing.
We stared at each other for a short while. I had no idea what he was thinking, but my mind was reeling from the fact that I was trapped in a tiny studio apartment with someone who obviously lost his good sense some time ago.
“So, observant. Yet”—he pushed forward—“you lack the skills to really understand what you’re seeing.” He smiled. “And you also have no sense of self-preservation,” he said, his tone chiding.
A flash of me ripping the dick off of the last man who attacked me popped in my head, and I smiled. “Oh, I will have to argue with you on that one. I don’t need a knife to do damage.”
“Then why haven’t you attacked me yet?”
Fuck it. I ran at him, modesty be damned, and actually managed to land a punch before he jerked me around and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Care to try again?” He leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “Maybe use the switchblade this time.” His minty breath washed over me.
“Fuck you!” I yanked away from him and grabbed the blade off the bed. Dammit, I should have charged him with it first instead of believing I could knock him down with one damn punch. Now, he was ready for the attack.
I stood there, blade in hand, trying to run through some of Ezra’s teachings when I attended his Krav Maga class. The only thing that came to mind was…no rules. I charged, blade arcing down, and was met with empty space. The bastard had moved.
My chest heaved up and down as I stood there, still trying to come up with some plan.
“When Devlin gave you a gun, did he teach you how to use it?” he asked, staring pointedly at my knife. “Might have been better if you shoved that down between your breasts.”
I didn’t respond.
“I could give you a few pointers.” The side of his mouth ticked up in a cocky grin.
“There is something seriously wrong with you,” I gritted out.
“You just have to get to know me,” he winked. “But if you’re done. We can move on. Unless you want another half-assed attempt at me.” He looked too damn hopeful when he said that. Fucking crazy bastard.
“Why not just kill me?” Why did I keep putting that in his head?
“Do you want me to?” he asked with a smirk.
All I saw was red. Anger coursed through me, infusing my body with energy while the adrenaline pushed my heart into overdrive. He didn’t see it coming. The knife sliced through his forearm. I aimed for more but was knocked on my ass before I could even lift the knife again. He held me down, his hand going around my throat. His eyes darkened, and I saw the caged animal behind those bottomless pits.
He was a trained killer.
One wrong move would probably break his resolve. I got the impression someone wanted me alive, and Logan was fighting his impulse to kill me.
“Touché,” he said finally as he got up. He grabbed my jeans off the bed and wiped the blood off his arm. After tossing them in my face, he stepped away. “Again?”
I ignored him, partly because I knew I would never get the chance to cut him again, and mostly because I valued my life.
My heart rammed in my chest as I stood up. My ass hurt, but I swallowed the wince and sat back down on the bed. After wrapping the bedsheet around me—I was not putting those jeans on—I glanced around the room again, this time trying to figure out what he wanted me to see.
The studio apartment was one large room with pale green walls and crown-molding circling the entire space. Framed photographs of more myths and legends hung on the walls. The figurines, I noted, were of centaurs, fairies, leprechauns, and other mythical creatures. A few angels were sprinkled in as well. Four clay pots sat in each corner of the space. There was no television or radio. A large bookshelf crammed with books sat against the wall near the closet. Judging from the heavy use of myth, I could guess what the books were about. A strange, convoluted scent hung in the air. A few incense burners sat on a round table with candles and jars filled with liquid. The smell reminded me of some of the herbs my father grew.
It was the porcelain figurines that threw me, making me jump to conclusion. Logan was right; my observational skills were slipping.
Everything in the room was related to earth magick.
And Logan had made a point of telling me he was a mind mage.
“This isn’t your apartment.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement and sat back down. “Now, have you all found the Ark?”
“You’ve lost me again. What does that have to do with this apartment?”
He glanced at his watch. “Looks like we’re about out of time.” He got up from the chair, went over to the table, and picked up my cell phone. Fucking bastard had taken my phone, too. “Use your skills to locate the Ark and figure out what’s going on. And when you’re done with that, trace the history of the phoenix.”
I had two representations of the phoenix: one on my charm bracelet and another as part of the mark inside my head. “What do you know about my mark?”
He startled, pausing as he put the sim card back in my phone. “What mark?”
I didn’t respond. So, he didn’t know everything about me. But why would he tell me to trace the history of a mystical bird?
He made his way to the door. “Tell Kara it was nice seeing her again,” he said, not turning around. “I will see you soon.” He opened the door and walked out.
“Tell me everything he said,” Alek said as I watched his cousin lay the owner of the apartment on the bed. After Logan left, I’d found her stuffed in the closet. Thankfully, he hadn’t locked her inside her mind as well.
I ran through the strange conversation again. I refused to tell him about my failed attempt to fight Logan.
“Why would he want you to learn about the phoenix?” Alek asked.
I shook my head. “He kept insisting I was overlooking something.”
We both looked around, taking in the various figurines and statues. It was on my second glance, I spotted the phoenix behind the angel sculpture.
I walked over and picked up the glass bird. The wings were spread out in an arc as if it were in flight. The claws were open, ready to catch prey in its grip. Jeweled eyes stared at me. I looked deeper. Inside the flames was another figure—a dark outline of what looked like a woman. She had her hands up in prayer.
The figurine was a replica of my protective mark.
I moved around the rest of the room, trying to find more objects depicting the phoenix, but the figurine I held in my hand was the only one.
I extended it to Alek when he walked up to me. “I thought Logan was crazy. But that bird resembles my protective mark. The hands, the wings. The only difference is the outline of a woman and the missing shen ring.”
He studied it, running his hands over the surface. “This means something.” He glanced over at the woman lying on the bed. “But what’s really important is if she means something as well. He brought you here for a reason.”
That much I figured out. We walked over to her, and Alek sat on the bed. Mid-sixties, her dark hair was heavily streaked with gray. Laugh lines surrounded her mouth and eyes, even at rest. No more than five feet tall, she looked small and unassuming. She seemed like someone I would immediately trust and like. But then again, she spent most of her time consumed in fairytales, most likely maintaining her childlike wonder. No pictures of family or lovers were anywhere in sight. And her ring finger remained unadorned and devoid of any tan line to indicate she had ever been married.
Alek stared at her. A wave of power rushed over me as he used his magick to reach inside her mind.
The woman’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at Alek. A small smile stretched across her mouth. “You are of the Roma. The Travelers. You also hold the histories bestowed to you by the Historian. I am Esmeralda. Keeper of secrets.” She eased up and whispered, “Have you come to rescue me from the dark force that has set foot in my home?”
Yep, definitely maintained her childlike wonder, especially if she believed Alek was some fabled knight. I admit, he most assuredly looked like one—albeit a dark one, filled with mystery. Right up the lady’s alley. And mine.
“Yes, I am of the Roma,” Alek said, his voice soothing. “But I have stopped Traveling long ago.” He handed her the phoenix. “Can you tell me about this, Esmeralda?”
She shrunk back, seeming to grow smaller as she tried to get away from the figurine. “The dark force gave it to me.” She shook her head vehemently. “I do not like the tale of women who are birds of fire.” Her face turned down in a frown; a single tear slipped down her face. “They were killed, and their power stolen.”
“How?” I asked, sitting next to her.
She stared at me with her lips pressed together to keep herself from talking. Maybe it wasn’t that she held onto her childhood and its fables, but that she herself remained a child. While Logan hadn’t physically harmed her, he had mentally. He’d shattered her world with his presence. I should have stabbed him in the throat. I’d have to kick his ass when I saw him again.
“Will you be all right?” Alek asked.
Her face lit up again, switching so suddenly from one of fear. She gazed up at him, adoration in her eyes. “Yes, I will. I have always taken care of myself.” The pride in her voice made me smile. It also made me a little jealous. Even someone who society would deem feeble-minded was able to carve out a life for herself, able to live her days filled with joy and wonder. And I couldn’t even manage to figure out how to stay in one place long enough to make it my home.
After ensuring Esmeralda was in fact okay, we left. When we stopped to drop off Alek’s cousins, I waited in the car. My mind was too full for pleasantries, and I had no plans of seeing Petronela. The woman terrified the hell out of me.
On our drive home, I studied the bruising on Alek’s face. “What happened when you and Devlin were in jail?” I hated how that sounded. Like they were some common thugs always spending time behind bars.
He reached out and took my hand. “Logan…” he trailed off. “Well, I assumed Logan had set a trap so we could be attacked in the cell. But now…” he shook his head.
“You don’t think it was him,” I said, trying to suppress my rising anger.
“I need to give the whole thing some more thought. I know Barnes was behind it, but Logan? I get the impression he set the plan in motion, but maybe not the attack. He seems like the kind of person who would prefer to do his own dirty work. At least that’s what I’m thinking.”
I turned and looked out the window. “He goaded me into attacking him.” Aleks hand tightened around mine. “I managed to cut him and the way he reacted made me think he was holding himself back. Like he wanted to hurt me but couldn’t.”
“Something about him doesn’t add up,” Alek said.
I turned back to him. Thinking of what Logan had illuded to about Alek’s magick. It did appear to be different from when I first witnessed him using it. “Your magick,” I started.
He glanced at me, raising his eyebrow in question.
“It seems…stronger. Different, even.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. When we finally got to Devlin’s, he turned off the engine and stared out the windshield. “My magick is different. Like Jonah, I have to keep myself in check or risk hurting everyone around me.” He turned and looked at me. “You help me more than you know.”
I nodded. I wanted to press, but the pained look on his face kept me from asking more. He would tell me when he was ready.
“What happened with Theresa?” I asked finally, changing the subject.
He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the seat. The sky had gone from gray to orange, and the sun crested over the horizon, filling the atmosphere with an ethereal light. I suppressed a yawn and laid my head on the seat back as well.
“It took a while, but we were able to pull her out of the chaos. She gave us information on a former employee of Tribec Insurance.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a note, and handed it to me. “Edward Foster. Devlin and I can go see him today.”
“Something else is bothering you,” I said, studying his face.
He stared out the windshield. “I didn’t know what to think when I didn’t see you in the room. Unrie led us on a wild goose chase. We lost him. Then I get a text from you, saying you went to get something to drink. I should have figured out something wasn’t right. But…” He shook his head, agitation radiating off him. His hands balled into fists, and I reached out and took them in mine.
“You found me in the end.”
He turned to me. “He could have hurt you.”
“I’m still surprised he didn’t. But what scares me the most was I wasn’t afraid because I knew I wasn’t in danger. My mark didn’t once react to him.” I laughed. “Hell, he even gave me my knife back.”
“We need to figure out what game he’s playing.”
I yawned. “Maybe in the morning. Or after a pot of Rachel’s coffee.”
He pulled me toward him. I slid over his lap, straddling him. “If you want to fool around, we will need a lot of coffee,” I said.
He laughed and slid my hair away from my face. “I need sleep. And so do you.” He kissed my neck, waking me up faster than any caffeine could. “But I also need to hold you.”
“I need that too,” I whispered. “But I hope we’re not going to sleep in the car.”
He pushed open the car door, and I stepped out into the chilly morning air. I pulled in the crisp scent and infused my lungs with its freshness. I hardly ever got to witness the magick of dawn. The car door thunked closed softly. Alek took my hand, and we walked the short distance to Devlin’s house.
Even though my mind was wracked with so many new revelations, when Alek wrapped his warm arm around me and pulled me close, everything went silent.