Chapter 17
“I begged the angel to save us and protect what was left of my family. She said all miracles have a price, and a miracle such as this would be a heavy burden. The angel offered to imprison the devil in a cage of her making, a cage built from the blood of my family.”
Nic learned very quickly that Alexys Keane was not, in any way, shape, or form, a morning person.
She was actually an unholy terror.
Like something out of one of his illustrated creature books. She grouched and grumbled through her entire morning routine. Nic was mildly concerned she might attempt to stab him with her toothbrush when he tried to use the sink.
He’d considered warning her against her chosen attire, jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but he thought better of it. He had to admit, there was something mildly amusing about seeing her in this light, in a rundown hotel, in the middle of nowhere. Something that almost endeared her to him.
Almost.
While she aggressively tugged on her tennis shoes, Nic asked, “Are you a breakfast person?”
The glare she cut him was scathing.
“No? Most important meal of the day, as they say.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her shoes.
Nic tried one last time. “Coffee?”
Alexys sighed but acquiesced with the shrug of her shoulders and a wary look. Like a feral cat being offered food—the distrustful little bundle of rage.
“Come on, then. Let’s get you some caffeine.” Nic opened the door and beckoned her through it.
“I should have known you were a morning person,” she grumbled.
“My God, she speaks.”
She half-heartedly smacked the back of her hand against his chest as she passed, the touch playful and unexpected.
They trudged down to breakfast in silence. Alexys wasn’t interested in making small talk, and Nic was content to save their conversation until she’d had a cup or two of coffee.
The lobby was empty when they sat down, it being so early, but the breakfast was out and the food looked fresh, much to Nic’s delight. He inhaled the smell of fresh pastries.
When they sat down together, Alexys cradled a steaming cup of coffee, and the tightness of her face had loosened slightly.
“I’ve already arranged for a taxi to collect us in half an hour. We’ll get the rental car and head straight out to Mercyhill,” he said to reassure her, but Alexys didn’t look reassured. She looked worried. And sleep deprived.
Something like guilt nagged at him. He knew his presence in her room made it difficult for her to sleep.
That, in addition to her worry for Elliot’s safety.
The woman drove him mad, but he’d worked with her long enough to know that she was an incredibly empathetic person, and she cared a great deal about her Wardens.
“Your body needs more nutrition than that,” Nic said between bites.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to comment on a woman’s diet?”
“On the contrary, my mother taught me the merits of ethical egoism and a sharp wardrobe.” Nic winked. He placed a banana from his plate in front of her. “Eat.”
“Bite me.” Alexys put the banana back on his side of the table and returned to her coffee.
“You’ll need the fuel. We have a full day of tracking down your wayward employee and a potential encounter with a Hollow Walker ahead of us.” He took another bite and groaned as the fresh pastry melted on his tongue. The cheese Danish was divine.
When Alexys didn’t respond, Nic looked up and found her staring wide-eyed at him.
He frowned. “What are you staring at?”
The apples of her cheeks flushed pink, and she quickly ducked her head.
“Nothing, Dyre. Eat your breakfast.” She chugged the rest of her coffee. “Right, I’m going to pick up a few more local maps, just so we’re completely covered. I’ll be back.” She was gone before he could respond.
Nic was alone at their table for all of ten seconds before a gentleman in a gray suit approached him.
He grabbed the back of Alexys’s chair, and Nic noted the almost unnatural pallor of the man’s skin.
He was incredibly tall and thin. His face was all sharp angles, and his eyes were the color of a dark void—so fathomless they were nearly black.
“Pardon the interruption, but I couldn’t help but overhear you mention the Hollow Walker.” The man sat down in the chair, folding his thin fingers neatly on the table. He smiled. “Did I hear that correctly? You’re looking for the Hollow Walker?”
Nic eyed the man warily. “Yes, we are.”
“I do love a good ghost story,” the man drawled. Nic wondered if this was what Southern charm was meant to sound like.
“And you are?” Nic took a sip of tea.
“Forgive my manners. Silas Lockwood.” He extended his hand across the table.
“Nic Dyre,” he said, accepting Silas’s hand. “Pleasure.” Nic was surprised by the coolness of his touch.
“Lovely to earn your acquittance, Nic. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I just so happen to be the resident folklore expert.”
Surprised by their stroke of luck, Nic’s expression changed.
“Really? You must be familiar with the Hollow Walker then?”
“Indeed. I happen to know a bit about the creature, if you have the time to indulge me?”
Nic really didn’t. In fact, he shouldn’t have allowed the man to even sit down, but now that he had, and that he was also in possession of coveted Hollow Walker knowledge, he might as well hear him out.
“I have about twenty minutes,” Nic replied apologetically.
“I won’t take up too much of your time, I assure you.” Silas’s smile was slow and easy. He leaned back in his chair and asked, “Tell me, Nic Dyre, what do you know of the Old Ones?”