Arcane Solutions (Discord Jones) Page 2

  My face grew hot. Throwing the car in gear, I muttered, “Shut up.”

  “I'm curious. Why didn't you use your telekinesis?”

  I whipped the car out into traffic. “It's kind of hard to concentrate when you're falling, okay? Besides, that’s the wrong ability.”

  “How many stories was it, and what is the right one?” Nick winced as I stomped on the brake then accelerated and yanked the wheel to pass another car. “Can I drive?”

  “Fifteen stories. Transvection, which I don’t have. No, you may not drive.” I'd been lucky my legs were all that had been broken, panicked as I'd been. Unfortunately, my favorite jeans hadn’t fared so well. E.R. nurses have an absolute fetish for cutting clothing off people.

  “Watch it! Oh God.” I glanced sideways, upper lip curling a bit at the sight of him cowering in my passenger seat.

  Nick scowled. “Would you watch the damn road?”

  “Wuss. I could drive blindfolded. Wanna see?” My grin broadened as panic bloomed over his face.

  “No. There's...holy…! Can I please drive?”

  “I already answered that question. It was 'no'. Your turn: any vampire enemies?”

  “I'm a shifter, what do you think?” Nick grabbed the dash, still scowling.

  “Names?” I persisted, making a sharp right that jerked him into the door. We were nearing an entry point for the Barrows, so I began searching for a parking spot on the car-lined street.

  “No one you need to worry about. Are we stopping? Because I think I need to throw up. Has anyone ever told you that you suck at driving?”

  “Yeah, and I'll tell you what I told them: kiss my ass.” Spotting an open spot, I slowed down.

  The shifter recovered quickly. “Ooh, can I?”

  “No.” Neatly parallel parking, I turned off the engine, catching his shrug from the corner of my eye as he took off his shades. Leaning toward him, I opened the glove box and began groping around inside. Nick sniffed at my hair. I angled my head to catch his gaze. “What are you doing?”

  “You smell good. What perfume are you wearing?”

  My fingers closed around the small, ruby-inlaid crucifix and I rolled my eyes while settling back into my seat. “Giorgio Red.”

  “It works on you.” Nick watched me pull the chain over my head. “A cross? Seriously?”

  “It's a ward. One of Kate's fellow coven members is muy kick ass in the warding department. This keeps me from looking tasty to younger vamps.” Checking for traffic, I climbed out of my car. Locking the door and pocketing the keys, I glanced over at him and sighed.

  The sunlight loved him, picking out cinnamon glints in his hair. His ready-to-rock stance gave wordless voice to the shifter’s self-confidence. Nick met my eyes. “What?”

  “Nothing. Let's go.” Having him around was going to take some getting used to. Yet it was nice to know the boss cared.

  This particular entry point into the Barrows was set between the brick walls of a club and a sex shop. It used to be just a narrow pathway to the alley behind them. Now an eight-feet-tall stone archway opened to a tunnel with steps leading down. If you came through the alley, you'd just walk through the arch and onto the street, because the entries are one-way deals.

  The tourists love them, constantly snapping photos of friends appearing to float out of the tunnel's dimness. The Melding had returned magic to the world without much disruption as far as real estate went. The people and critters had been the real shockaroonies for humans.

  Of course, I’d missed all the shock and awe. I’d dropped into a coma on the stroke of midnight as the Melding began, like a weird remix of the Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty fairy tales. Only my mom had been the one with the kiss of consciousness, instead of a prince, and delivered it to my forehead, not my lips because that would’ve been eww. By the time I’d rejoined the land of the awake, things had mostly moved past the impossible reaction.

  Nick reached the archway a step ahead of me and led the way down. I followed, slightly amused by the appearance of his bodyguard attitude and his question: “Which area do we need?”

  “How should I know?” My answer brought him up short, which wasn’t a good thing in a stairway. I narrowly avoided bouncing my nose off his jacket.

  He paused just long enough for a deep breath of his own. “Then what's the plan to find out?”

  Grinning at his back, and noticing his shoulders were almost touching the tunnel's walls, I said, “Walk around until I feel a tug.”

  The shifter half-turned to look at me. “A tug?”

  “It's a psychic thing.”

  “Uh-huh. The Barrows takes up a lot of space, uh...what am I allowed to call you?” Nick asked, head tilting just a touch left.

  “Well, my friends call me Cordi, but you may call me Jones. You?” I was still grinning for some inane reason.

  “I prefer Nick. How long before you decide someone's a friend?” His head tilted the other direction, as a curious dog’s would.

  “Depends on who it is. Daylight's a wastin', so get a move on, please.” The sun affected vampiric powers even underground. I really didn't want to be in the Barrows after dark, having acquired a not-fan or two of the vampire persuasion.

  With a shrug, Nick turned and began walking downward once more. A minute passed, then a couple of more. I noted my boots were the only ones scuffing the moss-encrusted stone.

  “Stop.” I frowned when he glanced back. “Can you see the landing?”

  After peering down, he shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “This is weird, since we should be right at it now. It's ninety-seven steps down this entry point. I counted ninety-six, so you should be on ninety-seven.” Leaning, I squinted into the darkness below, unable to spot the landing.

  “You count steps.”

  “I like to be prepared if retreat becomes a necessity.”

  “I don't hear anything.” The shifter sniffed the air a few times. “Vampire scents are faint.”

  “Okay. Time to go back up,” I decided, but upon turning around, discovered that what should've been daylight from the opening had been replaced by the tunnel ceiling glowing. The entrance was gone, covered by something. “I don't like this.”

  “Don't panic,” he soothed. “Go on up, we'll see if we can figure out what's going on.”

  Throwing a scowl over my shoulder, I said, “I'm not panicking. I just said I don't like this situation.”

  “Okay. Would you start climbing?” Nick poked me in the back.

  “Hey! No touching.”

  “Is that a prejudice thing?”

  “It's a psychic thing,” I huffed, beginning the climb upwards. “I can pick up stuff when people touch me without warning.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” The shifter was silent for a few seconds. “That must make sex difficult.”

  “Excuse me?” My voice was a squeak.

  “Doesn't it? Sex does require a lot of touching.”

  “My sex life is none of your business.” My face had gone hot and I was grateful he was behind me. It had been a while, and having a wet dream of a guy bring up the topic just made the lack all the more apparent to me.

  “Oh, come on. You can't tell someone that and not expect them to wonder.” Nick chuckled. The soft, husky sound hit me somewhere below the belt. “But I'm sorry I embarrassed you.”

  “You didn't,” I lied.

  “Right. That's why your body temperature just shot up about five degrees.” Amusement laced his tone. “Your scent's grown hotter too.”

  “Thank you ever so much for sharing that and now, please shut up.” I'd reached the top. “What the hell? There's not supposed to be a door.”

  “Switch with me,” Nick demanded. “I'll open it.”

  “I think I can manage opening a door.” He grabbed my arm when I began to reach for the door's ornate handle.

  “But can you handle what might be on the other side?”

  He had a point. I probably could, but why waste having perfectly good mu
scle around? Huffing out a breath, I shrugged. “Fine.”

  It took a bit of doing in the small space, but we traded places without tumbling down the stairs.

  “Okay, I'm going to open it. Ready?” Nick glanced back at me.

  “Yea- wait. What if it's something you can't handle?” The unknown was causing a chill of dread to ooze down my spine.

  “Then you’ll teleport us to your car.”

  “Who said I can teleport?”

  “I need information to do my job, just like you do to do yours. Mr. Whitehaven gave me a rundown of your abilities.” He paused. “He forgot to mention the no-touching thing, though.”

  “Whatever. Open the door,” I demanded, making a note to find out later what all he'd been told. The shifter looked back at the door, reached for the handle, and paused.

  “Maybe you'd better grab hold, just in case.”

  Shoving my fingers between his belt and jeans, I silently cursed my boss. He'd obviously mentioned my occasional tendency to panic. “Maybe you should knock first.”

  “It’s a public door, it doesn’t get knocked. Besides, element of surprise.”

  “Then open the damn door, I’m surprised enough.”

  “I’m opening the damn door.” Nick pushed it open, but I couldn't see anything except his back. “It's a hallway. It smells like elves.”

  Huh. What did elves smell like to a shifter? I pushed the question away for later.

  “We're probably okay then.” Or should be, since I wasn’t aware of having pissed off any. You have to be around the beings in question to manage that. “Go on.”

  “Shifters aren't welcome in faerie mounds, Jones.”

  Nick didn't move, so I released his belt to shove him into the hallway. “I'll protect you.” The promise earned me a frown. “This is probably some kind of magical mix up.”

  “It's not a mistake, Miss Jones.” An elf stepped out of another doorway about fifteen feet down the hallway. “If you'll join me, I will explain.”

  He no more resembled a spider than I did a fly but the elf had that gloating villain thing going big time. Typically gorgeous, taller than Nick by an inch or so, built like something out of a mail-order groom catalog for the stinking rich. Still, if he was playing the villain with Bond-esque panache, didn’t that make me the hero? At least he’d called me Miss Jones without making it sound like a song reference.

  “Both of us?” Leaving Nick alone was probably a bad idea. It would tick off Whitehaven if I lost him the first day.

  The elf inclined his head, nearly royally. Nothing as ordinary as a nod of agreement, not from him.

  “Okay then.”

  Nick was breathing down my neck by the time we entered what appeared to be an office slash library. The elf gestured toward a pair of spindly looking chairs placed before a massive desk.

  A pair. As in two – for my unwelcome bodyguard and me.

  “Please have a seat,” the elf invited. “I apologize for the unorthodox method of meeting with you.”

  “You seem to know who I am. This is my associate, Nick Maxwell, and you are?”

  “Thorandryll.” He sat down behind the desk, not even nodding at Nick. “The information I was given said you work alone.”

  Yet there were two chairs waiting. I smiled. “Not anymore. Nick’s my new partner. So what is this about, Mr. Thorandryll?”

  Like most elves, he was gorgeous. Blue eyes the color of winter skies adorned a triangular, high-cheek-boned face Hollywood actors would pay a million bucks for. His hair was long, loose, and deep golden blonde. I hadn't been this close to an elf before, but could see why people became elf-struck.

  Not that I would. It would be so unprofessional. As would be calling him the Lord he no doubt preferred.

  “I wish to hire you to locate something.”

  My curiosity flared. Why would an elf need a psychic to track something down? “My employer pre-screens our cases at Arcane Solutions. You'll have to speak with him first.”

  “I prefer to keep this matter quiet.” Thorandryll's icy blues focused on my face.

  “Discretion isn't a problem, but you have to speak with Mr. Whitehaven first. I'm under contract—no free-lancing allowed.” My urge to attempt to scan him was growing. What was it he wanted me to go after?

  “I see.” The elf studied me for a moment longer. He was probably judging his chances of success at bribing me, or whammying me with glamour.

  Neither was a good idea. I like my job, and mystical crap aimed in my direction tends to piss me off.

  Nick was fidgeting, his discomfort so intense that I felt sympathy welling up. “If that's all, Nick and I are sort of in the middle of something.”

  Thorandryll didn’t take my attempt to dismiss him well. Brows drawing together, he gazed at me, and I’ll be damned if goose bumps didn’t bloom on my arms. After a long, silent moment, he rose. “I'll speak with your employer, Miss Jones. Allow me to escort you out.”

  “Sure.” As the elf led the way out, I whispered, “Bit arrogant, isn’t he?”

  Nick grinned in response.

  Three

  “The spell will end when the door closes, returning you to the Barrows' entrance. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jones.” Thorandryll half-bowed after opening the door to the tunnel. Nick edged past, his expression blank and wariness exuding from him like a cloak.

  “Likewise. I guess we'll talk later.” Offering him what I hoped was a professional smile, I started down the stone steps after the shifter.

  “Do you often visit the Barrows?”

  Pausing, I turned to look back at the elf. “Just when necessary for a case. Why?”

  “Merely curiosity, Miss Jones. It’s dangerous.” He frowned past me at the shifter's back.

  “Danger comes with the job. Have a nice day.” Two steps later, I heard the door click shut.

  “I can see the landing now,” Nick announced after a minute or so passed. “That was weird.”

  “Yeah. I wonder what Thorandryll’s thing is? What do you think: stolen or lost?”

  The shifter shrugged. “Who steals from an elf?”

  “You mean apart from the suicidally inclined? I have no idea.” We reached the landing and entered the false night of the Barrows.

  Imagine every dark night movie scene featuring a decrepit old castle, and you'll have a decent idea of what the Barrows is like—minus the tourists, but you can’t escape them. They’re everywhere, even posing for photos in front of the fantastically designed iron gates blocking entry to the private residences of those with major standing in the vampiric hierarchy.

  You enter the Barrows at your own risk. The cops will come to look for you if you go missing and it's reported, but vampires are usually experts at hiding the bodies.

  They aren't supposed to kill anymore, and there's really no need for them to do so because there are always idiots willing to offer up blood. But everyone knows that killing does happen. People disappear, and have since the beginning of time.

  Vampires are predators and seven years of civilized living hasn't made a dent in their conditioned hunting behaviors.

  Nick appeared to be on full alert, his weight perfectly balanced and arms loose. Lower level vamps were taking care to avoid our path, but I wasn't convinced that was because of him.

  Ronnie's anti-vampire ward was grounded in earth magic and seasoned with fire magic. The newer the vamp, the faster he or she would become a column of fire if they risked grabbing me for a snack. Overall, most vampires prefer to avoid being burned into true death.

  I didn't see anyone I recognized as we worked our way up and down the main streets, but we did come across several groups of young humans. Emo kids, Goths, and punks for the most part.

  Light scanning picked up their louder thoughts. I shook my head at the hope many had of becoming powerful creatures of the night. Stupid kids. But Zoe's so-called friends could be around, skipping school to play with the dead, so I kept scanning, and made a note to dig up s
ome names. Maybe Zoe had a Facebook account.

  “Anything?” Nick asked after we'd covered a rough square mile of streets.

  “Not yet, or I would've said something.”

  “I'm starving. Let's stop for some lunch.” He jerked his head toward a tavern across the street. “Good steaks there.”

  “You must hang out here a lot more than I do.”

  “I’ve been here enough to know where the good steaks can be found. Come on, I'll buy.” He led the way across the street, and I reluctantly followed. My stomach was beginning to grumble a little about its empty state.

  As was par for the course down here, the tavern’s lighting was dim. Sighting Jo Morrison sitting at a corner table, head bent close to a vampire's as she listened to him speaking, surprised me.

  What are you doing here? I 'pathed, startling her into looking up. I watched the vampire eye her neck while lounging back in his seat, despite the fact she wore another of Ronnie's warded crosses.

  Book business floated from her in response. I smiled and waved for the vampire's benefit when he glanced our way. It couldn't hurt to let him know she wasn't down here completely alone.

  Jo’s a witch, and certainly not helpless, but I tend to be protective of those I call friends. There are few enough of them, and to be honest, they’ve pulled my fat out of the fire more often than I have theirs. I do my best to return the favor as much as possible.

  “Who's that?” Nick was watching the byplay. Jo waved back.

  “A friend of mine and a coven mate of Kate's. Her name’s Jo.” Slipping past him, I picked a table not too far from hers and sat where I could keep an eye on things.

  The shifter followed, settling into a seat that let him watch the door and most of the dining area.

  Who is he? Jo's question was a whisper, but I caught it because I was listening for her. She had a natural, thick mental shield and it had taken me a long time to tune in enough to be able to hear her.

  New hire at the office. Kate would eventually inform them that Whitehaven had hired a babysitter for me.

  Cute. She was grinning.