Chapter Fourteen #2
The light changes and we continue on our way.
Nerves tightening, I watch the mirrors for anyone following us; their cameras might have recorded Rob’s license number if not our actual appearance.
We should have disguised the car as well.
Something grows hard under my sternum, a ball of anger like a fist. I hate this new world, where cameras record our every move and de Lisle is a step ahead of us.
Then I remind myself that he always starts out ahead and we always catch up to him. Evil has always existed, and we are nothing if we do not fight it.
I take a slow breath, ashamed that I even considered giving up.
Rather than going up the driveway this time, we park a block away, on a narrow road under the shadow of trees. “There’s a gravel road that cuts across the property.” Rob points to a gap in the trees. “I’ll take it and scout the outbuildings, while you go closer to the house.”
I nod, throat too tight to make a sound, and find a path that leads in.
Again I’m struck by how the architectural drawings hadn’t done justice to the property.
Nor had our previous visit. The darkness didn’t show how dramatically the western edge falls away into the Pacific Ocean, and the landscape lighting had only hinted at the beauty of the elaborate grounds.
Daylight makes it obvious that the architect and designer had worked together to bring the outside in.
Trees I know—willow, magnolia, various oaks—and some I don’t recognize are accented by patches of bright color; crimson geraniums, shocking pink bougainvillea, and acid yellow monkey flower, their colors calmed by swaths of green lawn.
As it is, it’s going to be easy to find a place to hide myself.
My false beard itches and my eyes water from the sun’s glare.
The swimming pool is still an aqua gem, though now the breeze makes little wavelets sparkle across the surface of the water.
It claims a languid stretch between the house and the edge of the bluff, surrounded by rough stones and a tumbling fall of water.
Nearby is a redwood hot tub and I find a spot between the two and settle in to watch.
The wind comes steadily off the ocean, and the only sounds are the rhythmic thud and pull of the waves below and the noisy chatter of birds.
There’s no denying the beauty of the place, though I find it a bold choice for a vampire, given that the sun is his closest neighbor. Perhaps he uses the threat of the sun to keep his children in line.
A trio of people come out of the house, two women and a man.
All of them are probably Marcus’s age—young, though not as young as some who were at the party—and they must be either shifters or human food since they’re unbothered by the light.
Either way, they share the quality that Prince seems to admire more than anything: beauty.
If the hot tub is their goal, I’m sure to be discovered. I can move without sound and hold myself unnaturally still, but even sitting cross-legged, I take up a noticeable amount of space.
Fortunately, they stop at the side of the pool, each of the women throwing a towel on a lounge chair.
The young man takes a position with his back to the pool, facing them.
His dark curls remind me of Marcus, which is an unfortunate connection because he proceeds to drop his shorts. He’s wearing nothing underneath.
His arse is very nearly as tan as his thighs, high and round and perfectly formed.
The women flutter their hands, unimpressed by what he has on offer, and their mocking laughter is like the clatter of a flock of starlings taking flight.
One of them has a riot of blond curls tumbling over her shoulders, and when she tries to twist her hair into a knot, her friend pushes her into the water while her hands are still in her hair. The young man laughs even louder.
Marcus said he went camping with his cousins and their friend so they could shift and let their wolves run in the wild. Would they have carried on like this?
I imagine Marcus with no clothing, laughing, his cousin tackling him to the ground. They’d wrestle, kicking up dirt, swearing, their friends cheering them on.
Young. Beautiful. Free.
I close my eyes, forcing my mind away from the image of a naked Marcus and back to the task at hand.
There’s more laughter as the two in the pool gang up on their friend, flinging water at her. Do they know about the very young woman who was waiting to give someone something special? Or the slender young man, little more than a boy, who’d fed two vampires?
Do they know that some of their numbers may well be sent to Leander de Lisle?
The young man is propped in one corner, arms along the deck, beads of water glinting in his curls.
My eyes cannot look away from his beauty, though it’s Marcus where my mind wanders, a vision of him laughing in the little stream near my cottage in the Greenwood.
I’m so absorbed by my reverie that I fail to notice the pair of shifters until they’re nearly on top of me.
Guards. They’re dressed in black and carry matching semi-automatic shotguns, and if not for an ornery crow, they would have overlooked me entirely.
They’re some four or five feet past me when the crow starts up its awful cacophony. One of the shifters, a redhead with the narrow nose and mouth of a rat, spins round. He’s jittery as a rat, too, pointing his gun at me and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What?” His friend turns more slowly. He’s taller—though not nearly as tall as I am—with thick arms and a mean sneer.
“This guy.” The rat thrusts his weapon in my direction. “He ain’t supposed to be here.”
“Yeah, only those three are supposed to be by the pool.” The slow one manages to speak and sneer at the same time, which could be the peak of his capabilities. I shift my weight forward, in anticipation of standing, but the rat thrusts his gun again.
“Don’t move.” He tips his head toward the house. “You’re coming with us.”
Rather than point out that I can’t follow him without moving, I simply wait. It would be easy to tell them to go away; neither strike me as particularly intelligent, and their wills would crumble into dust if I give them the lightest nudge.
I don’t.
“All right, come on,” the rat says. “Get up already. Faith is going to want to talk to you.”
I rise, moving slowly so as not to challenge them in any way. For once, our goals are aligned. I’d like to talk to Faith, whoever she is, to see what else I can learn about this house and the hidden diamond.
I take a step toward them. It makes the rat twitch, and he points the muzzle of his gun at me. “Don’t try and run, asshole. You’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”
That’s not nearly the threat you believe it to be. His friend turns toward the house, shouting at the young people to go inside, and the rat says, “Stay right behind him.”
“Of course,” I murmur, and with my captors in tow, I head for the house.
When we reach a set of glass sliding doors, the rat stares blankly at what appears to be a small camera mounted to the left of the frame. As he stares, a red light flashes six times, a green light flashes once, and he opens the door.
Inside, the air is cool, though not the near-icebox temperature of modern air conditioning.
I’m led through some kind of solarium, a room whose windowed walls follow the line of the cliff.
In the center of the room, a planter holds a mass of orchids with twisting stems and blooms in every shade from pure white to deep purple.
A corkscrew hazelnut, surrounded by spiky agave, grows in front of the only solid wall, where a section of the floor has been cut away to allow roots to reach dirt.
The tree’s tortured branches are nearly hidden by dark green leaves, and I nod as we pass, wondering what tales it could tell me.
The rat and his friend come to a stop at the base of the swooping staircase.
“He’s here,” the rat calls. No one responds.
My heart beats faster than normal, though I haven’t seen anyone I couldn’t overcome.
So far, anyway. If I’m not at the rendezvous point, Rob will know I’ve managed to get myself taken.
I simply need to learn as much as I can until I can get out.
A woman appears at the top of the stairs, the same woman with the long nails and high heels that I’d noted on our first visit.
She is lovely, with hair as black as midnight, falling sleek and straight to her elbows, and skin a porcelain pale. It’s her eyes, though, that snare my attention. They’re green and gold, and the pupils are long, narrow slits.
The eyes of a cat. Cait sidhe.
I scramble through my knowledge of folklore. The cait sidhe are shapeshifters who can take both human and cat forms, they’re fierce fighters regardless of the form they take, and they’re said to steal souls.
She’s a dangerous addition to Prince’s power and likely the reason the rest of his defenses are so weak. One cait sidhe can do more damage than any number of men.
“You were here two nights ago.” Her voice is rich, a gorgeous sound that caresses my hearing and makes me want to tell her all about my last visit.
I don’t. “I beg your pardon?”
She moves down the stairs with feline grace. “I saw a man of your”—she pauses briefly—“endowments, and I must say, that beard does you no favors.”
So much for Will’s attempt at disguise. Rather than worry that we’d done no better fooling de Lisle’s monitors, I focus on what’s useful to me. Cait sidhe. A detail worth noting.
“You stabbed Caressa, and she’s pinned in her visible form until she heals.” She tosses my dagger at my feet, where it lands point down. “Take your toy, asshole. It’s no use against a gun.”
“I’m born of fire and sharpened by stone,” I murmur. “What am I?”
“A pain in my ass.” She’s close enough to touch. “Elian does not like uninvited visitors, so you need to tell me what you’re doing here. Now.”
The tone of her voice changes from cajole to command.
Her extreme nails, claws really, are painted dark burgundy, and she reaches out to lightly scratch along my arm.
I catch her power like the tail of a whip, and I know in my bones that I will fight her.
This is the reason for the weight on my heart, which beats faster with the first real inkling of fear.
Laughter spills down the stairs—the young people who are definitely not Marcus and his friends. Straightening so I tower over her, I ask, “Are you the one they call Faith?”
Her response surprises me, or perhaps it doesn’t. “Are you the one they call John Naylor?”
“No.” I keep my expression bland and my voice even. “Tom. Tom Piper.”
Her laugh is the echo of a cat’s cry. “Okay, Mr. Piiii-per”—her voice is riven with sarcasm—“what were you doing out there today? Think carefully, because odds are I’m not going to believe your first two answers, so save us both time and tell me the truth.”
When I don’t answer right away, she smiles, revealing canines that are nearly as long and sharp as a vampire’s. “Piper isn’t a wolf’s name. Have you ever fought a cat, Mr. Lying Wolf?”
“No.” My voice is composed. My belly is definitely not. “I think if it came to it, we’d fight to a draw, and both of us would regret our injuries.”
She shakes her head, her long black hair rippling. “Goddamn it. Tell me why you’re here today, and what were you doing here the other night?”
They say the best lies hold a germ of truth. I want Faith the cait sidhe nowhere near my real reason for being here. If I had more time, I’d curse Rob for dragging me out of the Greenwood.
And then I would thank him for giving me an idea.
Lapsing into an accent I haven’t used in centuries, I ask, “Canst thou not hear the voice of the ocean? Sche speketh to the treen.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Try again in English, asshole.” Impatience makes her speak without using any of her persuasive power.
“I herd the song, and so I cam.”
“Enough with the fake Shakespeare bullshit.” She reaches for me again, and just as quickly, I step aside.
Someone hollers from the upper level, more of a roar, and Faith turns her whole body in that direction.
“Fuck this. Peters? Moroni?” She screams the names.
“Come get this asshole and lock him up. Maybe if he stews in his own juice for a while, he’ll give me a damned answer I can believe. ”
The rat and his friend reappear, as if her ire has conjured them from thin air. They’re both still armed, and while it will be simple to evade them, I don’t want to try while Faith is watching.
Stupid humans are easy. An angry cait sidhe is not.
Besides, while she may think I’m stewing, I’ll be looking for anyone who has no interest in being in this situation. And also for a certain piece of antique jewelry.
Because that is what I came here to do.