Darkness Unbound

  “See that green Toyota on the right two cars back?”

  I frowned. “Yeah. What of it?”

  “I noticed it pulling out of a parking space several cars back from us when we left the restaurant. It’s been shadowing us very carefully ever since.”

  “He could be just going the same way as us.”

  “He could.” His gaze met mine. “But do you really want to take that chance, given what happened yesterday?”

  I drew in a breath and released it slowly. “No.”

  “Then we’ll question them.”

  “How? The minute they have any idea we’re on to them, they’ll fuck off.”

  His sudden grin was fierce. “I’ve been a soldier and a cop several times over in my long lifetime. Trust me when I say I know a little about dealing with tails.”

  “Then deal away.”

  I grabbed the other half of my sandwich and bolted it down. I had a feeling I was going to need the sustenance.

  He flicked on the left-hand blinker and turned, keeping his speed even and giving our tail no reason to suspect we were aware of them. After several minutes of cruising, he turned right.

  “Okay,” he said, as I brushed the crumbs off my shirt and lap. “We’re going to do another left up ahead. It’s a through-road, but when I traveled down here yesterday they were doing road work and there was only one passing lane. They’ll make us stop.”

  “What if there’s no traffic and we’re just waved through?”

  “Then we think of something else.” He gave me a smile, his bright eyes alight with anticipation. “I must warn you, I do like a good chase. It makes me hungry.”

  And the look in his eyes suggested he didn’t mean food. “I’ve satisfied your hunger enough for one day,” I said, voice dry. “You’ll just have to find someone else, or wait until tomorrow.”

  He laughed again and swung left onto a street. Up ahead was the promised road work, and a little man in an orange vest was leaning casually against a stop sign. Lucian slowed, his gaze flicking to the rearview mirror. “Okay, we’ve struck the jackpot. There’s another car stopping behind them. You ready?”

  I licked my lips, clenched my fingers around the door handle, and nodded. The car came to a stop. He pulled on the handbrake, slid the gear into neutral, then said, “Go.”

  He was out his door before I even had mine open, but the men in the car were faster still. They were out and running in an instant, going separate ways, forcing us to do the same.

  The guy on my side was thin and angular, with legs as long as a giraffe’s but possessing none of their ungainly gait. He was over the front fence of the nearest house with an impossibly high leap and quickly disappeared from sight. I leapt, grabbed the top of the fence, and hauled my ass over it—far less elegant, but effective nonetheless.

  He was already disappearing around the side of the small brick house. I gave chase, hurdling the trash cans and other bits and pieces he tossed into my path, trying to keep up with him—or at least not let him out of my sight.

  He leapt another fence, ran into another yard. I followed, catching my jeans on a nail, the sharp edge tearing the material and my calf. I cursed and dropped down, my fingers brushing the ground to steady myself before I ran on. He was already out into the next street. This one was busier—several cars screeched to a stop, their tires smoking as he leapt over their hoods. I followed, leaving dents in the metal, unable to leap the entire width of the vehicle as he had. Abuse followed me down the street.

  A small shopping center came into view. He swung into it, no doubt hoping to lose me in the crowd. I sucked in air, sorting through the flavors running within it, picking out his scent—fear, sweat, and shifter. A mammal of some sort.

  He bolted through the doors and into the bright, wide walkway. People scattered, and those who didn’t were knocked aside. A old woman was sent flying, her arms flailing as she teetered toward an escalator. I slowed and grabbed her fingers to prevent her falling, but it cost me. The distance between me and the shifter had suddenly doubled.

  I swore and ran on. He crashed through a stairwell door and disappeared from sight. I leapt over a prone teenager and three seconds later hit the door myself, my heart racing and sweat beginning to dribble down my spine. Steps echoed in the concrete well—some going up, some coming down. None of them were running. I flared my nostrils to catch his scent and stepped forward, looking up. I couldn’t see him, but the stairs curled upward for a good five or six floors.

  If I ran, he’d hear me. And if I walked, I’d risk losing him.

  I took a deep breath, then reached down inside myself to the place where the Aedh resided. She came in a tide of fierce energy that swept across my body, brushing away the pain of my torn skin even as she dissolved my flesh and made me little more than smoke.

  I swirled upward through the center of the stairwell. Several people were using them, but none of them was the man I was after. I continued to rise.

  I found him near the top floor. He’d paused by the exit into the parking area, his head tilted slightly to one side, expression intent. I waited, hovering near the ceiling, itching to attack but not wanting to run the risk of someone coming through the door and perhaps getting hurt in the fight.

  After several minutes, he pushed the door open and walked through. I swirled after him. There were few cars on this level, and no sign or sound that there was anyone else but us here.

  Which was perfect.

  He paused, his gaze sweeping the area, then he strode across the empty space, heading for several cars in the far corner. After a moment, I realized why—the rotating security cameras didn’t quite make it into this corner. It was a dead spot for them.

  He pulled something out of his pocket and pressed several buttons as he aimed the device at the three of cars parked in the corner. The third one beeped, the taillights flashing to indicate a response. A lock pick, I realized. Shit. I’d just run out of time.

  I surged forward and formed a mass over his head. As he reached for the driver’s door, I found flesh and dropped right down on top of him.

  He grunted and collapsed to the floor on his hands and knees, winded but not knocked out. I remedied that by knocking his head sideways into the car. He collapsed and didn’t move.

  I pushed into a sitting position, my legs on either side of his body and my weight resting firmly on his butt, doing nothing more than breathing deeply for several minutes. When the tide of weakness began to fade, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and looked down at my captive.

  Now what did I do with him?

  It wasn’t practical to drag him back to the car with me—not only because some do-gooder was bound to intervene, but because he was a good foot taller than me. And despite his thin frame, his body felt like steel. The minute he came to, he’d have me beat in reach and strength.

  Which meant I’d have to question him here. I glanced around, checking that we were still alone and that the cameras definitely didn’t scan this particular corner, then rose and looked inside the car he’d opened. There wasn’t anything useful in the backseat, so I popped the trunk and checked that out. And discovered the owner was obviously into hiking, because there was not only a backpack filled with gear, but also hiking boots.

  I pulled the laces free, then slammed the trunk closed and grabbed my prisoner’s arms, hauling them behind his back. I tied one lace around his wrists, and the other around his thumbs. They might not hold him for long, but I didn’t really need much time.

  I rolled him onto his back, then dropped down onto his stomach and slapped his face. “Hey! Wake up.”

  His eyelids flickered. I slapped him again, harder this time, the sound echoing.

  Brown eyes were suddenly glaring at me balefully. “Get off me, bitch.”

  “Tell me why you were following us, and I might consider it.”

  “We weren’t following anyone. You’re fucking crazy.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth, and he was buc
king like a mad thing, trying to dislodge me. I rode the first few attempts, then punched him in the diaphragm. Hard. He gasped, and for several seconds made like a fish out of water as he struggled to suck in air. I felt a little sorry for him—until I remembered that he might just be involved with the people who had tried to kill Ilianna.

  “Why were you following me?” I repeated.

  “Fuck you, lady!”

  I hit him again. He swore—fluently and creatively—when he was able, but otherwise he remained tight-lipped. I sighed. I had two choices. Either I could call Rhoan and let him deal with the man—and in the process lose any hope of gaining additional information on the who and why behind all this—or I could play hardball.

  “Tell me,” I said quietly, praying—hoping—that he did talk, “why were you following us, and who put you on to us.”

  It couldn’t have been Handberry, because he was dead. But he’d been talking to someone prior to his exit from the club—someone who’d made him so mad, he’d stormed out. Maybe that someone was the next person up the tree of command—and the person behind the current tail.

  “Call the cops if you think I did anything wrong, lady,” he spat. “Otherwise get off me or I’ll start screaming for help.”

  “Yeah, you do that,” I said, and reached for the Aedh again. But this time, I controlled the surge of power, channeling its fury, containing its strength, focusing it on just my hand. Making it transparent, but not entirely smoke. There, and yet not.

  His gaze widened. “What the hell—”

  “You will tell me,” I said softly, resting my hand against his chest, just above his heart. Only my fingers held no substance and slipped easily through his flesh, into his body, until they were positioned near his frantically beating heart. “Or I will wrap my fingers around your heart and squeeze every bit of life out of it.”

  I RE-FORMED JUST ENOUGH FLESH AROUND MY fingertips to carry out the threat. Though I only squeezed gently, because I really didn’t want to kill him. And I could—so easily—if I wanted to. Uncle Quinn had made that abundantly clear when he’d shown me—somewhat reluctantly—how to do this.

  The shifter screamed, and it was a high-pitched sound of pain. Sweat broke out across his forehead and fear filled his eyes. I let my fingers become smoke again.

  “Tell me,” I said, voice harsh.

  “What the fuck are you?” he said, eyes wide as he stared at me in horror.

  “I’m nothing you’ve ever come across before.” I kept my voice abrasive, even though weariness was beginning to pulse through my body. I couldn’t keep this up much longer. Going from barely ever using my Aedh skills to using them several times over several days had taken more from me than I’d imagined. And the lack of sleep wasn’t helping, either.

  “Look, I don’t know much.” His words tumbled over one another in his haste to get them out. “We got the job offer and took it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “So you’re thugs for hire?”

  “Not thugs,” he said. “We’re private investigators. Of sorts.”

  They weren’t particular in the sorts of cases they took, in other words. “So you were asked to follow us? Then what?”

  “Nothing. I swear, we were just asked to follow you and report back.”

  “To whom?”

  “He gave us a phone number. That’s all I know, honestly.”

  I believed him. The stink of his fear rode the air, and there was too much horror in his eyes for there to be any room for lies.

  “So how were you supposed to be paid?”

  “He’s already deposited the money into our account.”

  “What phone number did he give you?”

  “I don’t know it by heart,” he said, seemingly unaware of the irony, “but grab my phone out of my right pocket. It’s there.”

  I shifted my leg slightly and then, with my free hand, dragged his phone out of his pocket. I opened it up, brought up the contacts list, and glanced at him. “Which one?”

  “It’s under Jones Job.”

  I snorted softly. How original. I scrolled down, found the contact and the number, then closed his phone and shoved it into my pocket.

  “Hey, that’s—”

  “Mine,” I finished for him. “The price you pay for following the wrong people. Is the number they gave you to contact the same number the caller used?”

  His lips twisted. “No. It came up as unlisted, but we ran a cracker program and got it, just in case.”

  “Then give me that number, too.”

  He did. I withdrew my hand from his chest and reformed my flesh, then patted his cheek with cold, somewhat shaky fingers. “Consider yourself lucky that I’m not taking anything more vital than a phone.”

  With that, I rose. My limbs trembled and my head felt ready to explode, but I ignored both as I looked down at him. “If I catch you following me again, I won’t just threaten to squeeze your heart. I’ll rip it out of your fucking chest.” I paused, watching him. Watching the threat sink in. “Okay?”

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it.”

  I turned around and walked away, my footsteps echoing softly in the concrete emptiness surrounding us. I kept my head down, letting my hair swing over my face, and avoided looking at any of the cameras. I hit the stairwell but didn’t stop, scrambling down the stairs two at a time even though every step made the ache in my head and the turmoil in my stomach worse. As I neared the ground floor, the door was flung open and two laughing teenagers all but fell into the stairwell. They looked me up and down and snorted softly, distaste evident in their expressions. Which said a lot for the state of my clothes if a couple of kids barely wearing rags were giving me disgusted looks.

  I headed out into the mall and quickly found a bathroom. A quick glimpse at the pale face in the mirror proved the teenagers were right to laugh, but I tore my gaze away and all but bolted for a stall—where I lost everything I’d eaten over the last day.

  God, I’d put my hand in that man’s chest.

  I’d felt his fucking heart beating.

  My stomach heaved and I spent the next few minutes unable to think as my empty stomach kept trying to jump up my throat.

  The reality of it was much more terrifying than the knowledge.

  I hated that I could do it. Hated that I’d had to do it.

  And yet I knew neither of those would stop me from doing it again if it meant getting answers to stop this madness and protect my friends.

  I closed my eyes and breathed deep, and after a few minutes the trembling in my limbs eased and my stomach seemed less intent on reaching my throat. I flushed the toilet then opened the door. The face in the mirror was still pale, the violet eyes frightened.

  But I had every right to be.

  I splashed cold water over my face, then rinsed my mouth until the bitter taste had gone. I straightened my clothing as best I could, but there was little I could do about the frayed remains of my jeans or the holes shredding the bottom half of my sweater. I guess I had to be thankful that I even had something resembling clothing left.

  I ran my fingers through my hair a final time, shook my head at how little difference it made, then left the bathroom and headed back to the car.

  Lucian had moved the Ute, because it was now parked several houses up from the road work. He was leaning against the side, his arms crossed and his expression concerned. When his jade gaze met mine, the concern deepened. He uncrossed his arms and strode toward me.

  “Fuck,” he said, stopping in front of me and placing his hands on my arms, as if to hold me upright. I wasn’t that weak. Not really. “Are you all right? You look as pale as a ghost.”

  I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

  He snorted. “You don’t look it.”

  I placed a hand on his arm, letting the heat of him wash through me, warming the chill from my bones. “I had to take Aedh form to keep up with my felon. I don’t do it much, and I’m afraid this is the result.”

  Whic
h was the truth, but not the whole truth. I might have taken him as a lover, but that didn’t mean I trusted him completely. I’d made that mistake once before. I wasn’t about to repeat it.

  “So you did get him?”

  “Yeah, but he couldn’t tell me much. Apparently he just had to follow me and report back to a number his client gave him. He didn’t even know the client’s name.”

  Lucian snorted and slid his touch to my elbow, lightly guiding me across to the Ute. “My felon said much the same. It doesn’t sound like a practical way to run a business, if you ask me.”

  “They got paid. I guess that’s all that matters to them.”

  He opened the door and I climbed in, closing my eyes in relief as the warm leather seats wrapped around me. Lucian slammed my door shut then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

  The big engine rumbled to life. Once he was back on the road, Lucian said, “Are you going to follow up the phone number?”

  I kept my eyes closed. Though the day wasn’t bright, the sunlight made my headache worse. “Yeah, but I doubt it’ll come to anything. Whoever is behind all this is clever, and would no doubt have considered the possibility of me noticing the tail. I’m betting the phone number will lead to some sort of message service.”

  “Message services don’t take anonymous clients.”

  “No,” I said, “but it’s easy enough to grab fake IDs these days.”

  He glanced at me and smiled—a heat I felt rather than saw. It shimmered through me like sunshine, warm and inviting. “And you know this because …?”

  “Because I was once a teenager who used fake IDs to get into places I wasn’t supposed to be.”

  He laughed, and something within me wanted to sigh in pleasure. “They could be using a prepaid cell.”

  “I doubt it—if only because the number can still be traced.”

  “Not if they dump it.”

  “Which they can’t do if they want regular reports.”