Chapter 31
Oliver checked the control panels on the surveillance system.
“Are you sure everything’s working okay?” he barked at Saul.
Saul gave him a funny look. “Yes, I already checked.”
“Just thought I’d, um—double check.” Oliver wished he could pace up and down to release some energy, but the van was too fucking small. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sat down. Stood up.
This was the trouble with loving someone, wasn’t it? You feared for their safety to the point of losing your fucking sanity.
The unmarked police van was parked a block away from the Humans4Monsters offices. Not knowing where Clare would be heading for her interview made him even more jittery.
Wherever she went, they would follow incognito.
In bed this morning as they held each other close, he’d let her reassure him, convince him that she was safe, at least for today.
But they both knew, sooner or later, those dark forces would try to abduct her.
The question was when—and whether their magick would be strong enough to combat that evil.
Even with Waldo’s reassurances, Oliver was not confident. He’d never dealt with such skullduggery before. The magick he’d had to combat in the past had at least been in this universe, not another fucking dimension altogether.
Oliver picked up his cell and checked in with Grayson. “All set?”
“Yeah, we’ve got more plain-clothed officers around this part of town than you can poke a stick at,” Grayson told him.
“Okay, we’re on,” Saul called out. “She’s arrived, just greeting Emmaline now.”
They sat down and tuned in, and he watched as Emmaline fawned all over Clare, aka Anna. Oliver winced at Emmaline’s squealing and hugging, but Clare coped with it admirably.
They talked about the monster who would be interviewing her. A satyr called Jeremiah Logan, who owned a chain of jewelry shops. Saul had quickly checked him out, his credentials and business were genuine, which was a relief.
A little bit of small talk and some simpering niceties, then the mic picked up Emmaline’s words.
“We’re meeting Jeremiah at The Den for lunch.”
Oliver’s nerves screamed: high alert.
He glanced at Saul, who also looked worried.
“If Emmaline takes her into that room again, none of the devices will work,” Oliver said.
Oliver shouted to Trent, who was at the wheel. “Drive to the Tower complex. Get as close as you can. We need to be nearby in case of an emergency. Go. Go. Go.”
Clare’s mouth went dry when she saw the car that was waiting to take them to The Den.
A black limo. Just like the one Matteus used to drive. The one that had disappeared.
Emmaline squeezed in next to her. The driver was dressed all in black, with bulked shoulders, but he was not an orc—his skin was grey. He had dark glasses on and didn’t look at them. She had no idea what species he was.
Emmaline put her hand on Clare’s and squeezed it. “I always get so excited when I’m about to seal a deal. You are going to love this opportunity, Anna. Jeremiah is such a cool dude, and his company is going places. He’s even got stores opening in Selig soon.”
“That’s awesome.” Clare touched her pendant. Tried to maneuver it so the camera would capture the back of the driver’s head. She knew they would be trailing the car now. But she didn’t dare look around.
And despite her resolve to stay calm, she felt her pulse speed up, her confidence wavering.
When the lift took them down to The Den, she breathed easier, seeing monsters gathered at some of the tables and around the bar, lunching, drinking, doing business.
With all these folks imbibing, laughing, enjoying lunch by candlelight as if they were in a gods damn fairy cave in the middle of a weekday, she decided this must be a legitimate meeting.
She cast her eyes around the tables, looking for a satyr.
There was no satyr.
Clare’s nerves spiked as Emmaline led her toward those carved wooden double doors—the room where her mic and camera had failed before.
She hesitated. “Are we meeting the Master again?” She frowned.
“Maybe.” Emmaline grabbed her arm and tugged her through the doors.
And there was Matteus, waiting for them with a smirk on his face.
The doors clanged shut behind them.
“Ah, Anna, or should I call you Senior Detective Doyle?” Matteus purred.
Clare froze. She hadn’t expected to be outed this soon.
Emmaline let out a snort of laughter, and with a quick twist of her arm, yanked off Clare’s wig. “You really think you fooled us, Clare? I got a sample of your blood the first time I met you, when I scratched you with my earring. Master was most impressed, were you not?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Matteus waved a gloved hand dismissively, his eyes fixed on Clare.
“So happy to be of service, dearest Master,” Emmaline simpered.
Clare tried to conceal her spiking anxiety.
“And you are Matteus Kominsky,” she said, forcing her lips to curl with derision.
He raised his brows with amusement. “Ah, so you knew me too, all along.
What a silly little game we ‘ve been playing.” He strolled over, close, way too close, and Clare stepped back.
His nostrils quivered, as if scenting her, and a fang appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“I can smell that bastard Hale on you. Has he partaken of you?”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Ah I think you do. I can tell you, he sure wants to. Because you smell like heaven.” Matteus let out a theatrical sigh.
“And you will taste even better. And to think poor old Hale will never partake. What a fucking shame. You are destined for higher things, and though I am not supposed to, maybe I could just have a little tiny taste?” His lips pursed and his fang gleamed, and Clare tried to back away further, when suddenly Emmaline yanked on his arm.
“Stop that! I am your beloved, remember?”
Matteus looked annoyed. “Of course you are, my little sweetling.”
Emmaline stood with her hands on her hips, jaw jutting. “Then prove it and take me with you.”
“You know the score. I have to deliver the necromancer to the boss and then I will return for you.”
Clare stepped further back into the shadows, wondering if she could escape while they argued.
“You always say that, every time I deliver a human.” Emmaline whined. “And you never do it. I didn’t do all this work for you to leave me behind. You promised to turn me. I’ve got her for you. Take me with you, NOW.”
Matteus chuckled nastily. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your blood is just bog-standard human. Unlike this exquisite creature here.” He advanced toward Clare menacingly. “Why would I waste my time with you anymore, Emmaline? Your job is done. You had some fun. I have what I want. Now get lost.”
Emmaline’s face went red enough to match her hair. “Fun! This stupid job hasn’t been fun. I did it so you’d turn me into your beloved.” She flew at him, her hands clawing and hitting at him in a rage. “I want to live forever,” she screamed.
“Oh, for the devil’s sake. Stop whinging, will you?”
Sparks emanated from his ring, zapping Emmaline with some kind of dark energy. She catapulted off the dais and crumpled to the floor, moaning. Matteus laughed, then turned to Clare. His arm shot out and she found herself caught in his gloved grip, like a fly held by a hideously awful spider.
She tried to struggle, tried to close her eyes to ward him off, but it was like his gaze was sucking her into a vortex of darkness.
Clare gasped as Matteus leered close to her face. His beauty could never disguise his evil soul. She winced, twisted in his grip, but to no avail.
And worst of all, he could scent her fear. And her blood.
She’d thought she could do this, but now it was upon her, she realized Oliver had been right all along. She’d been na?ve to think that with her magick blood, she could handle whatever was thrown at her. Truth was, she was way out of her depth.
She must have whimpered, because the vampire murmured, “Ah, don’t be scared my lovely.
” His nostrils flared, his head came down and she shuddered as his lips traveled along her neck, hovering at the hollow at the base of her throat.
“What a shame I can’t partake of this luscious blood—yet.
But at least I know Oliver Hale won’t be able to either.
That is one consolation. Now, hold on for the ride. ”
As Clare tried fruitlessly to free herself, she heard Emmaline screaming, “You bastard, I hate you, I HATE YOU.”
“Fuck off Emmaline,” he shouted. Then, with his free hand, Matteus pressed the ring to his lips and chanted an incantation in a strange, guttural language.
The room started to spin, faster and faster.
Clare’s stomach bottomed out, everything blurred, and she must have passed out, because as her senses climbed out of the abyss, and her gaze focused, she found herself staring up into the visage of the most truly vile creature she had ever set eyes on.
Oliver could hear his breath rasping as he burst through the lift doors, gun raised. Grayson and Saul were hot on his heels, along with two more gargoyles, all armed.
All around the dining room, monsters screamed.
“Get down and you won’t be hurt!” Grayson shouted. As monsters hid under tables, the group raced to the thick carved doors and burst through them.
Apart from Emmaline Shaw, sobbing on the ground, the room was empty.
“He didn’t take me! He promised to fucking take me!” she cried.
Oliver grabbed her, hauled her up, and eyeballed her. “Where is she?”
“H—he took her.”
“Where?”
“The fucking Dark Dimension place. He promised he’d take me there and m—marry me. I was going to be his beloved, he was going to turn me, so I’d live for eternity. But h—he used me. He was never going to do it, the smooth-talking piece of shit.”
“You were an accomplice in all of this. You helped to abduct innocent young humans. Handcuff her,” Oliver ground out, as he pivoted on his heels and made for the door.
“Where are you going?” Grayson shouted.
“To rescue Clare.”
He skimmed out of the club, past the open-mouthed monsters peeping out from under tables. When he stepped out of the building, his wings were already erupting through his shirt. Spreading them wide, Oliver took off, heading for Waldo’s apothecary.
As he flew over the streetscape, he cursed himself. Clare was young and inexperienced, he should never have let her take the lead. His critical thinking had been overtaken by his dick.
And it had all gone horribly wrong.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. That they weren’t prepared, they hadn’t done enough groundwork. Now he had to find Clare, bring her and the other humans back home and somehow dismantle the whole of the Dark Dimension.
Ready or not, it was showtime.
Landing with a hard bump, he skidded along the street, braking with his heels, and dashed inside the apothecary.
“I need Clare’s blood,” he panted as Waldo walked out of his consulting room. “She’s been taken.”
Waldo ushered him in and closed the door.
“Calm down, Oliver. Panic will inhibit your powers.” Waldo went to the refrigerated unit and brought out a tall vial of blood. “Now drink.”
Oliver’s fingers shook as he took the vial. “I need to—to get there, fast,” he said after gulping it down.
“Seat yourself in the lotus pose,” Waldo said calmly. With a grimace, Oliver did as he bid, and Waldo sat cross-legged on the floor, facing him. “You need to be calm to teleport.”
Oliver scrubbed shaking hands over his face. “I—I fucking can’t be calm. If I lose her… I don’t know how…”
“You are scared because she is your beloved,” Waldo said. “Love and fear go hand in hand, but you have to transform the fear into action now.”
Oliver gulped and nodded. “I’ve let her walk into danger. Just like I let Effie…” A great wracking cry was ripped from him. All the pain, all the hurt of his past felt like it was being re-enacted. He was going to lose Clare, just as he’d dared open up to love. It would never end. He was cursed.
Waldo’s voice, firm and authoritative, cut through his anguish.
“Center your energy in your heart. There are no accidents in this. It was no accident that my father found you, took you in off the streets, no accident that you became a police officer, and then a great detective, a truly good being through and through. No accident that you met Clare. No accident that she loves you and believes in you. Now you must believe it too.”
Oliver closed his eyes, inhaled through his nostrils, exhaled through his lips. He heard Waldo murmuring words he did not understand. Felt warmth in the third finger of his left hand, where he wore his ring.
“Believe in your love with Clare. And focus on the Hale ring,” Waldo said softly.
As Oliver’s ragged breaths calmed, the ring on his finger started to vibrate, and soon the energy was spreading through his whole body. It felt like he was levitating, almost as though he was flying… and yet not.
“Focus on the ring, Oliver. Recite the Hale mantra. You will activate more than just your own inner reserves. You will also activate the power of your clan,” Waldo urged.
Oliver opened his eyes and stared down at his hand in wonderment, his senses suddenly calm and clear. The ring was shining like it had been polished a thousand times, the Hale crest glowing as if lit from within. “What is happening?”
“The ring could only be activated when the magick aligned. It has held the love of your family, your father, mother and sister, ready to be ignited when the time was nigh. When you loved and were loved in return. That time is now.”
Waldo brought a hand to Oliver’s shoulders and touched it to one, then the other, and finally to his chest right above his heart. It felt like a bolt of lightning was traveling through him.
“Now go. Save her. Save all of us, Oliver,” Waldo commanded. “It all rests with you and Clare.”