Chapter Eleven
Neither one of them said anything for the first thirty minutes as they headed back to the city. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to say. The shock of what they had stumbled upon didn’t fade, so fantastical that she wondered if she made it up.
She hoped, with every piece of her heart, that Peter hadn’t passed through those doors.
“You can’t go back to your hotel.”
His voice startled her, bringing her out of a daze. “Why not?”
“It won’t take Shiel long to figure out who you are. You flashed Peter’s picture all over The Gin Room, whose primary customers are shifters. It probably would be best if you left New York. Forget what you saw here.”
Marion blinked, unable to believe what he said. “Forget? You seriously just said that?”
He sighed. “What Shiel is doing is against everything we stand for. Shifters hide in the world. Anonymity ensures our survival. Eventually, people will start questioning the disappearances and then we’re all fucked.”
“Hello, I am questioning the disappearances! Don’t tell me to back down when I just saw people being chopped up for dinner! I mean, this is straight out of a horror movie.”
“I know.”
“Shiel has to be stopped.”
“I agree.”
“I’m not going home. I can’t.”
He let out a deep breath. “Yeah. Kind of figured that. Then you’ll stay with me.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“Take it or leave it,” he said, resolute.
She didn’t have to think too hard. “Take it. But I won’t be mollycoddled. I need to find Peter or at least find out his fate. Understood?”
“Understood.”
They fell silent again, and she was glad. It gave her time to properly process everything, to come up with a plan. It was dusk when they finally hit the edge of New York City, and of course, they got stuck in traffic. Lots and lots of traffic.
Deacon winced and placed a hand on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’ve been away from my labyrinth too long.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Can you get these cars out of the way?”
“I wish.”
He winced again. “Okay, you’re going to take over driving.”
“What? There isn’t a shoulder to pull over on.”
“We’re doing it the old-fashioned way. I’m going to push my seat back and you’re going to slide onto my lap—”
“What part of this is old-fashioned?”
He glared. “As I was saying before you interrupted, you’re going to slide onto my lap and take the wheel, then I’ll slip over to the passenger seat.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Stop complaining.”
He reached down to the controls and slid his seat back, before waving her over. Sitting on his lap, she took over the wheel, lifting herself up a little so he could move. Luckily, it was stop and go, and it only took a minute for her to adjust her seat.
“See?” he taunted. “Easy-peasy.”
Marion rolled her eyes. Then he winced again and let out a little groan. He instructed her how to get to his penthouse, and with each mile the pallor in his face faded. He winced less and less. When she finally pulled into the underground car park, Deacon looked like his old self.
“Are you better?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you.” He turned his head and met her stare. “It’s a very painful way to die.”
“Hold up. You can die from this?”
“Yep.” He raised an eyebrow. “Now you know my kryptonite.”
“Do you need to get to your labyrinth?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to come with me. I can give you my key card.”
“No, I’m helping you.”
“You are so stubborn.”
“You’ve said that before. Takes one to know one, you know.”
“Shut up and help me out.”
Marion smirked as she left the driver’s side and went around to help him out. He took a deep breath and after a moment nodded. She slid her arm around his back, helping him to stay upright.
“You’re going above and beyond helping me.”
She wasn’t a short person, standing about five foot nine, but he had about four or five inches on her. “You’re my investment.”
“Go ahead, flatter me some more.”
They made their way to the elevator, only waiting a minute or two for the car to arrive. They got on and she pressed for the ground level.
“I like your horns.”
All he did was raise an eyebrow.
“I never thought I’d say that in my life. I’ll never look at a bull again and not think, ‘Hm, maybe that’s a person.’ So, thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
The elevator opened and when they stepped out, he gave the concierge and security a wave as they left the building. They only had to cross two streets, and they’d be in Central Park.
“You’ll have to guide me,” she said.
He pointed in the right direction.
“What are we going to do about that processing plant?” she asked, feeling her stomach roll a little at the thought. “Who can we tell?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You don’t know what to do or you don’t know who to tell?”
“Either.” He pointed in another direction. “I mean, we have a resource center to help humans who know about us, but I don’t think they can handle this. Shifters aren’t governed by a central authority.”
“Then how do we get that plant shut down?”
He pointed again, and they headed in that direction. “I’ll think of something.”
“Just how long are you going to take to think of something?”
“Marion.” Deacon sighed. “Right now, all I’m concentrating on is getting to my labyrinth.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes. Each step alleviates the lethargy. Head toward the bridge over there.”
With a few more directions, they finally reached the pipe. Clearing some debris, he punched a few numbers into a lock pad, and the grate popped free. He gestured for her to go first, then closed the grate and reengaged the lock. When she stepped from the pipe, the lights came up.
“Motion sensor lights? I still don’t know how this is completely missed by everyone in a city of millions of people.”
“Well, curses are an interesting thing. They can protect themselves by a number of means. They can erase people’s minds.
Repel curiosity or explorations. They’re kind of like herpes.
You’re never going to get rid of the virus, so all you can do is take the medicine until it goes away.
But it lingers, always waiting. Continually giving you the fucking blisters. ”
One eyebrow went up. “Well, that was oddly specific.”
He frowned. “No, I don’t have herpes. Shifters don’t get viruses and sickness like humans.”
“Good for you.” She walked over to the labyrinth wall. “I’m trying to connect the dots. You said this fighting arena, for lack of a better word, has been here a long time. That means your family has been here a long time. And this curse you have keeps your labyrinth hidden?”
“Correct.”
“Then how did I find it?”
“That is a question I’ve been asking myself,” he admitted. “I don’t have any answers right now. Maybe the curse has evolved to include you for some reason.”
“I don’t wanna be cursed.”
“That’s exactly what I said when my dad sat me down to talk about the birds, the bees, and the bull.” Deacon leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “The curse keeps the labyrinth in stealth mode. Protected against human eyes, which was why I was surprised when you showed up at fight night.”
She could see the change in him. The stark pallor left his face, replaced with the warm undertones of his skin. They fell silent, and she let him recharge. After about fifteen minutes, he opened his eyes and turned toward her.
“I have an idea.”