Chapter 13
“Maybe just one more.” Gemma reaches into a velvet bag, fishing around for another amethyst.
“If I have any more protection charms on me, it’s going to be obvious,” I tell her as I pull my hair into a braid over my shoulder.
It’s nearing the time to go to meet this mysterious Mr. Trent for lunch.
I’m only a little nervous, which might be a bad sign.
I don’t want my anger to cloud my judgment, but dammit, I’m pissed.
Though, can you really blame me?
I’m sitting in the kitchen, nibbling at the food in front of me, and Gemma is scurrying around the house trying to charm anything she can find to help protect me.
“It’ll be fine,” I assure her, though we both know I can’t promise that. “I’m going to be in a public place, and I’ve already set up a meeting with Nick for an hour after I’m meeting Mr. Trent. So if I don’t show up…”
Gemma nods, face relaxing just a bit. “Another cop will know something is up.”
“Right. And you know all the details of this meeting. If Mr. Trent does something to hurt me, he’ll get caught.”
“He doesn’t seem to care about consequences, though.”
I take another bite of food and push my plate away. My phone rings, and both Gemma and I freeze.
“It’s Nick,” I say before I answer.
“Ace, hey,” he says. “I know we’re meeting up soon, but I figured you’d want to hear this sooner than later.”
“What is it?”
“I looked into the names of those kids you gave me. Two are dead and two were reported missing.”
“Shit.”
“My thoughts exactly. And all these kids have murdered parents?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re onto something big here, Ace.”
“I might be.” I close my eyes, cringing. “Just…just keep this between us for now. I’m still working out the theory. I’ll explain things better later.”
“Sure, I won’t say anything. Though I do wonder about your thoughts on one thing.”
“What one thing?”
“It can’t be the same killer. The first murder was a hundred years ago.”
“Yeah…I, uh…” Fuck. I’m floundering. As nice as it would be to have another cop helping me gather intel on these sorts of things, I can’t very well just come out and say it. I’d sound crazy for one, and two, I don’t want to get anyone else involved if I can help it. No one innocent needs to die.
“I’m still trying to see the connection,” I finally say. “I’ve got to go run some errands. I’ll see you later. You have the files, right?”
“Yeah, I got ’em. See ya, Ace.”
I hang up and rub my forehead, trying hard to keep my inner zen. I really don’t want to burn down the kitchen right now. Gemma worked really hard to get it spotless this morning, which served as a distraction from her nerves.
“That didn’t sound good.” She sits across from me at the table.
“It wasn’t. I sent Nick the names of those kids and he said two are dead and two are missing.”
“Jacques was right, then. The demon has been after the children all along.”
“Yeah, which means Evan is in danger.”
“You did the protection spell,” Gemma says. “If your aunt kept you safe with one, then surely you can keep this kid safe too. You’re like really powerful, Ace.”
“I know,” I say, not disagreeing with her. I am a powerful witch. But not an experienced one. I still lack confidence in my spell casting ability. “It’s hard not to take this all personally.”
“Well, it is personal,” she says, and I’m glad she’s not trying to convince me otherwise.
“This demon killed your parents and this Mr. Trent has been watching you for years. I don’t think you can get much more personal than that.
” She reaches over and pats my hand. “And I know you say not taking things personally or not getting involved or whatever is how you functioned so well as a cop, but you’re a witch now.
Putting that emotion into it…it’s what fuels your powers. ”
I flip my hand over and give hers a squeeze. “Thanks, Gem.”
“For what?”
“For being a good friend.”
I pause outside the entrance to the swanky hotel. I’ve never set foot inside this place before, and I immediately feel underdressed once I do. I’m wearing black pants with boots, and a tight gray T-shirt. My gun and badge are on my hip, and a purse full of magical weapons—in a sense.
It seems a little early to be going to a bar, and I’m surprised to see it as full as it is for the middle of the day. Though I suppose these rich businessmen sitting at the shiny wooden bar and sipping whiskey on the rocks don’t abide by the rules.
I sense him before I see him, and it’s just like Lyra said.
The energy shifts, and the air feels like it does a split second before something bad happens.
He’s looking down, flipping a brittle page in an old book.
When he looks up, his brown eyes widen with just the slightest bit of shock at having not seen me first.
Then his lips curve into a smile and he stands, holding out his hand and beckoning me to come closer.
Inhaling, I set my eyes on his face and make my way across the bar.
Mr. Trent is in his late forties, if I had to guess, and has dark hair with just enough gray peppering it to give him that sophisticated look men unfairly get as they age.
He’s a good three or four inches taller than me and looks fit underneath his pinstriped suit.
Overall, he’s a good-looking man who fits right into this place full of asshole rich old dudes.
“Acelina,” he says. “Welcome.”
“You need to up your stalking game.” I flick my eyes around the bar before I pull out a chair and take a seat. “I go by Ace, not my full name.”
“My apologies.” He flashes a brilliant white smile. “And I thank you for meeting with me. Though I do wish you had responded in time.”
I cock an eyebrow. “I’m here now. So what do you want?”
He laughs. “Right to the point, I like that.” He flags down a waiter. “I’ll have another Old Fashioned, please.” He grabs his empty glass.
“And the lady?” the waiter asks, looking at me.
“She’ll have one too,” Mr. Trent replies.
“No,” I interject. “I won’t. I’ll have a glass of your most expensive red wine instead.”
The waiter smiles, nods, and walks away.
“You’re paying, by the way,” I tell Mr. Trent. “And you better tell me what you want or I’m leaving.”
“In a rush?” He leans back, smirking.
“Not necessarily, but I do have a work meeting after this. You know I’m a police officer, right? They’ll be expecting me.”
He has a good poker face, but I see the slight narrowing of his eyes. “Yes, I do know that, and you should know I have the utmost respect for officers of the law.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “I think I should leave and come back after you’ve done a better job stalking me. Because your bullshit flattery is just annoying. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”
Mr. Trent presses his lips together, observing me for a moment. “I see no reason to beat around the bush. You have something I want, and I believe I have something you want.” He leans forward. “You know, Ace, we’re not that different.”
I hold his gaze. Is he trying to say he has powers too? “You’re going to have to elaborate.”
“I get the feeling you don’t like me—”
“What gave that away? The stalking? The creepy notes?”
“We could work together.”
I shake my head. “Why? Why would I work with you? You just acknowledged that I don’t like you.”
“We work together and we’ll both get what we want.”
“What do I have that you want?” I ask.
He smiles and leans back. “Oh, you know.”
“Look, Mr. Trent, I have a lot of amazing things. Stop being so illusive, dude.”
He chuckles, and the waiter comes back with our drinks. I grab the glass of red wine and take a sip. For the most expensive wine, it’s not what I expected. Though, I’m the furthest thing from a wine snob. Give me a cheap bottle of something sweet and I’m good.
Mr. Trent takes a big drink of his Old Fashioned and it hits me. He doesn’t know for certain that I have what he wants. He’s trying to get me to admit it. So it’s not the house…and probably not my book…what is it?
“Look, Mr. Trent,” I start.
“Call me Jason.”
“Fine. Jason.” I take another sip of the wine, still not liking it at all. “I’m not interested in whatever game this is you’re playing. Either tell me what you want and what you have, or I’m leaving. I don’t have time for this.”
“I believe you have a particular set of runes. Runes I’ve been searching a very long time for.”
I shake my head, remembering that Lyra said he asked her for runes too. “I don’t have runes.”
“Are you sure?” He narrows his eyes. “This set isn’t complete,” he says slowly. “It might only have four or six in it. They are very old.”
Four runes. Very old. I know exactly what he’s talking about.
“I don’t know why you’d want to trade something presumably valuable for an incomplete set of runes.” I offer a shrug. “Besides…what exactly would you want to trade if I did have an incomplete set of runes anyway?”
“The name of the demon who killed your parents.”
I can feel heat rushing to my fingertips. Stay calm…stay calm… “And I’m supposed to trust you to give me the real name and not something made up?”
“I may not be a saint, but I’m no liar,” Jason Trent assures me.
“And what are you, exactly?”
“A procurer of magical items.”
I blink but keep my face neutral. “Why?”
He laughs, and dammit, he looks charming when he does. “They’re quite valuable…and useful.”
The bad feeling intensifies, and I can’t get a good enough read on Jason.
But something inside me wants to get away.
I have so many more questions for this guy, while at the same time I don’t want to keep talking to him.
The more I say, the more he knows about me, even if it’s not intentional.
Showing interest…letting him know I want answers… it’ll give him an edge over me.
Though I’m sure he already knows it.
“Look.” I lay my hands on the table. “If you want me to even consider working with you, then you need to give me more information.”
“Ask away.”
“Why did you send the golem?”
He brings his hand in to his chest. “I didn’t personally send it. I don’t have that kind of power…unlike you.”
“You can’t do magic?”
“Unfortunately, no. I wasn’t gifted the way you are.”
“What makes you so sure I have powers?”
He finishes his drink in one big gulp and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You see, I wasn’t sure. Well, not until you took down that golem. Which was spectacular, by the way.” His eyes widen and he looks me up and down. “But you had help, didn’t you?”
My mind races and I’m not exactly sure what to say. If he was able to see me through the golem’s eyes, then he already knows. Though I don’t know the extent of what he saw…Jacques took off his charm for a short time. But was the golem within eyesight then? Everything happened so fast. I’m not sure.
“You already know I wasn’t alone. My turn for a question. If you didn’t send the golem, who did?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss.”
“Then I’m done here.” I make a move to stand and Jason leans forward.
“A colleague.”
“Really? Do you guys discuss magical artifacts at the water cooler every day too?”
He presses his lips together. “Of course not. We so happen to have similar interests and trade items every now and then.”
“But you’re BFFs enough for them to send a fucking golem raging around the city?”
“A particular deal had been worked out where we traded a good for a service in this instance.”
I roll my eyes and stand for real this time, moving out of his grasp.
There’s still so much I want to know, but my gut is telling me to get the hell out of here.
“We’re obviously not on the same page here, buddy.
In fact, I think we’re in different books.
In different genres at that. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m going to find out. ”
“Ace, wait.” He stands so fast he bumps into the table and knocks the wine glass over.
“I’m done here.”
“We could be great together.” His brown eyes flash.
Aware others in the bar are looking at us and assuming we’re having some sort of lovers’ quarrel, I just shake my head. “No. No, we wouldn’t be.”