Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Emma watched Adrian toss the phone into the beverage holder before he pulled the car from the lot and onto the road again. His self-satisfied smirk piqued her curiosity enough for her to fish the phone out and slide her finger over the screen.
The blue text bubble containing the most recent post said, “Your man is dead, and all of you are next.”
“You told them we’re coming?” she squeaked.
“That’s right, I did. We’ll toss the phone in a few hours after they’ve had a chance to track the GPS signal. We have a lead on them as well.”
“Not for long, Adrian! Did you forget they have special contacts of their own? There are all kinds of GPS apps to locate stolen and lost devices!”
He chuckled and focused on the road, guiding them from the city onto the highway.
“Emma, they have no idea where we’re going. Hell, we don’t even know if this trail will lead us to Texas or somewhere else. But I do know, by the time we leave the state of Massachusetts, that phone will be in a ditch, and they’ll have to work extra hard to find us again.”
“All right. At least we have the night on our side. Traffic shouldn’t be as heavy. If we’re lucky, we can reach Baltimore before we need to stop.”
Unsettled by the possibility of hunters stalking them to D.C., she gave a small nod and focused on her own mobile phone. During all the drama, she’d missed a text from Angie.
Angie: Hey, is everything okay? You didn’t say goodbye before hitting the road.
Emma: Sorry. You know how Kennedy can be. He rushed me out to the car before I could find you. Anyway, I was just about to text. Stay indoors for a few days, please. Hunters are lurking at the Legacy. Let everyone know.
Angie: Will do. Love you, girl. Keep safe, and don’t let Adrian Kennedy give you any shit.
Emma: No worries there. Trust me.
“Do me a favor and notify the coven about—”
“I told Angie to let everyone know there’s hunters staked out at the hotel.”
“Ah. Great.”
“Shouldn’t you let Brennan know?”
Adrian tapped his fingers over the wheel. “I’m driving.”
“Oh. Right.” She made the call instead. Everyone knew how to reach their coven master, but at the same time, they also knew not to use the number unless necessary. Countless neophytes and adepts had found themselves on the receiving end of his wrath for making frivolous calls.
Brennan was fair but practical, a kind leader with a firm set of unyielding rules he expected his vampires to follow.
Which was why it had taken her completely by surprise when Adrian interrupted their lord’s late-night snack.
Although the gas gauge barely moved, Adrian stopped twice for gas and tossed the phone in the trashcan while Emma ran into the station for coffee. They reached Baltimore in under seven hours, thanks to his heavy foot and light traffic.
On the outskirts of Baltimore, a quaint two-story townhouse awaited them, manned by a trio of adepts and a vampire knight who took orders from the council from time to time.
She’d learned from Adrian that the four owned and managed the adjacent buildings as well, renting them out to fund their interests.
Dame Marissa, a perky brunette in yoga pants and a tank top, led them to the upper level. “We don’t receive guests often and only have one room available at the moment. Two beds, quite warm and comfortable,” she explained.
If stares could undress men, Adrian would have been shivering and naked in the chilly hallway.
Marissa’s hungry gaze devoured him. Envying the vampire knight’s freedom to do what she couldn’t, Emma clenched her teeth hard enough for both fangs to snap together with an audible click.
Adrian glanced back at her, alarm raising his brows.
“That will be fine,” Emma said, despite the desire to punch their hostess in her too-perfect nose.
“Of course, Master Kennedy, you’re welcome to share my room if you’d like,” Marissa offered.
“A gracious offer, but one I must decline. I’ve been assigned as Miss Whittaker’s champion. My place is beside her, to ensure her safety until she fulfills the council’s assignment.”
“Pity. Perhaps you’ll visit again. Off duty.” She gestured them toward a door at the end of the hall. “If you require anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
The room screamed extravagance, from the Persian rugs on the hardwood floors to the matching four-poster beds. Heavy brocade curtains hung around each one.
“Get some rest, Emma,” Adrian said.
“What about you?”
“I’m going to make a few calls first, make sure we’re set for tonight.”
“All right. Sleep well.”
Emma turned her back and changed while Adrian stripped on the opposite side of the room, hidden from her view by the ornate bedframe and its enormous burgundy curtains.
By the time she crawled into her bed, the sun had dawned outside, and she knew the hunters were en route.
Hunting for them. Seeking. Awaiting the chance to take vengeance for their fallen.
Their kind hosts offered them a pair of live humans in the afternoon. It turned out that the tenants in the next building volunteered their blood in lieu of rent, and both had been brought over to share their wrists.
Emma hesitated while seeking the best vein, tracing her thumb over the limb offered to her. It was silly, but she had her preferences.
Adrian cleared his throat. “You need to be strong in case we do encounter hunters. Fill up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Excuse me, can I look for a good spot?”
He grunted something under his breath about her weird habit.
Instead of telling him he wasn’t the boss of her, she raised the human man’s wrist to her mouth and punctured the skin.
The sweetness of the first sip always struck her as euphoric, like liquid magic on her tongue.
She drank until her belly was full and his essence flooded her body with vitality.
Beside her, Adrian finished up with the second man and watched her with a contemplative look on his face—no, an irritated expression, even though he’d urged her to drink.
An hour later, complete darkness fell.
Maybe it was silly, but she couldn’t tolerate another moment of the female vampires cooing around Adrian for his favor.
Such childish, simple behavior was beneath them and not to be taken seriously, but she couldn’t shake her jealousy until long after they’d fastened their seat belts and returned to the interstate.
The trip into D.C. resumed, and the journey ended in the parking lot of the Smithsonian.
“Brennan and I pulled some strings, and a human ally on the staff is prepared to clear us for after-hours entry.”
“Oh? And this guy is going to let us just waltz in there unquestioned?”
“He knows who we represent, and frankly, the museum is embarrassed by what happened,” he explained. “They want answers and believe we represent a private agency.”
Adrian’s long strides forced her to jog up the steps behind him. They were met by an older fellow in a swank suit, like an executive who belonged in the boardroom. His mild combover and grandfatherly smile put her at ease.
“Peters, thanks for meeting me. We appreciate your help in this.”
“It’s no trouble,” the man replied.
“Emmaleigh Whittaker, meet Reginald Peters. Peters, Emma is the psychic I mentioned over the phone.”
“I’m not a—”
“You predict the future. That makes you a psychic,” Adrian said.
Peters smiled as he shook her hand. “The pleasure is mine. Please. Follow me.”
Marveling at things along the way, Emma followed Reginald through the vacant lobby to the staff area. She glanced at an enormous elephant in passing, regretting they weren’t free to explore.
Numerous banners and advertisements invoked a sense of sorrow in her, that she could never visit during the museum’s hours.
Over the recent years, she’d settled for enjoying virtual tours instead.
But it wasn’t the same. It was never the same as strolling down a corridor teeming with beautiful relics from a past long before her time.
Maybe Brennan could arrange tours with the museums in Boston, allowing them to walk through at night.
Hopeful thoughts for the future distracted her until they were in the surveillance room in front of the monitors.
“This is the footage of that night,” Reginald said. “Sadly, it’s not much to go on. They left no prints or distinguishable DNA and wore masks. We’ve only been able to connect one employee to the events, indicating it was an inside job.”
Emma crossed her arms beneath her breasts and gazed at the displays. Keen eyesight detected fingerprints against glass. “It’s a museum, so any DNA left behind by the others could be thrown out by a good lawyer.”
“Exactly,” Adrian agreed.
“What about the one employee?”
Reginald gave them a cool, humorless smile.
“A newly hired guard that’s only been with us for about three months was caught on the camera deactivating the systems responsible for automatically notifying the police of an event.
Afterward, the other thieves stunned and disabled several other members of the after-hours security staff.
They were in and out before we had a chance to notify law enforcement. ”
“Don’t you do background checks?” Adrian asked.
“Yes. Thorough ones. Unfortunately, Alexander Buckham—the real Alexander Buckham—had no idea he’d been hired by the Smithsonian. He’s been enjoying an extended stay with family in London.”
“Which means your inside man stole his identity.” Emma pursed her lips. “Clever.”
“Incredibly clever, much as it is vexing to our staff and the police. We’re willing to resort to… paranormal methods if it means we can retrieve the gemstone for our collector.”
Emma watched the footage again. A squad of hunters swarmed into the Smithsonian and stunned the security officers with beanbag rounds and Tasers.
As Emma stood beside Adrian watching the video, Reginald explained the external factors unseen by the camera.
While the hunters raided the museum, more ran a diversion miles away, causing automobile accidents on the streets and essentially shutting down a section of D.C.
“Any idea who loaned the gem to the museum?” Adrian asked.
“I’m not at liberty to reveal that information, but I can put you in contact with his lawyer. Private collectors like to remain private.”
Adrian grunted. “That’ll be good enough. We’ll go through the lawyer.”
“As for Ms. Whittaker, I believe this would be the ideal time to introduce her to our gem exhibit. Please follow me.”
“I’d like a copy of that security footage,” Adrian said.
Reginald inclined his head politely. “Of course,” the museum representative said before moving ahead.
He led them to a gallery on the second floor and gestured to an empty pedestal.
“Anyway, you have complete access to Janet Annenberg Hooker Hall, and security cams are running on a digital loop in the meantime. No one will ever know you were here.”
“How long was the gem here?” Emma asked.
The stocky man glanced at her. “For nearly a year without trouble.”
Adrian touched her shoulder and nodded toward the empty display. She sighed.
“I’ll try.” Emma brushed her fingertips against the black pillow and focused, willing herself to see the memories associated with its missing occupant.
At first, nothing unusual happened. Her touch created an indent in the plush cushion’s cool surface. Adrian and Reginald distanced themselves to give her space.
A psychic. Of all the traits to attribute to her, of all the things to call her gift, she hardly felt psychic. She almost chuckled at the absurdity of it all until the low murmur of Adrian and Reginald’s chatter dropped away. Absolute silence rivaling sensory deprivation encompassed her.
Without warning, a dozen images blinked before her eyes without clarity.
A split second passed between flashes of unfamiliar faces.
Guns. Weapons. Uniformed men and women with similar features.
A church altar. Beautiful white wings as radiant as a dove in flight.
Like an unfocused telescope lens, the blurry images teased her with their knowledge.
“I can’t… I can’t see anything,” Emma muttered, irritated.
The smell of burning flesh and ash assaulted Emma’s nose. A piercing scream threatened to blow out her eardrums. From behind, she heard a yell that sounded like Adrian, though he was far away, no longer beside her but a vast distance away and bellowing something she couldn’t understand.
Jerking her fingers away from the velvet, Emma stumbled back and collided with Adrian’s chest.
The smell was gone, but the memory of it remained with her.
“What did you see?” Adrian’s breath stirred the hair around her left ear.
“I… I’m not exactly sure. Hunters and a church, I think, but it was too blurry to make out anything substantial.”
Adrian’s hand smoothed up and down her arm. “Are you sure about that? Because you said something strange to both of us,” Adrian said.
“Huh? I said I can’t see anything.”
Adrian shook his head. “No. You said a hell of a lot more than that, Emma.” He glanced at Reginald for confirmation.
“Indeed, Miss Whittaker. You said quite a bit.” He held up his phone and pushed a button.
A voice spilled from the phone, husky and imperious but resonating with power despite playing from an audio recording. “Free me from this prison, servant of God. Free me, and I will grant you the power to punish those who sin before our maker.”
“That… that doesn’t sound like me.” Imbalanced by whatever power she’d used to tap into her vision, Emma stumbled. Adrian wrapped an arm around her waist before she surrendered to her weakness and face-planted on the floor.
“You sounded like a....”
A demon, she thought. She’d sounded like something malevolent and terrifying. Clinging to Adrian helped. She curled her fingers against his muscular chest, and her other hand grasped his coat. Adrian became the life preserver she needed, a powerful force grounding her back in reality.
“That’s not what the man thought. I felt it, his thoughts. It was like he was hearing an angel.”
Reginald studied her. “What man?”
“The one who has the Eye.”