To Kill A Warlock

  “Quillan?” Zara questioned like her brain had decided to take a vacation...and at the most inopportune moment, I might add.

  The vamp grabbed hold of her arm, and she screamed out against him in a terrified panic.

  I didn't get a chance to respond.

  “Already here, Dulce.” Quillan's familiar voice came from directly behind me and my entire body relaxed. I didn't have any time to figure out how he'd gotten here or when or where the hell he'd been hiding. I was too overcome with the pleasure of having him at my back, knowing how much easier it would be to take these miscreants down.

  He took a few steps forward until he was parallel with me, and I could smell his Tommy Bahama aftershave. Holy Hades, I'd missed him.

  “Let Zara go,” he said in his “don't screw with me” voice.

  The vamp looked like he'd enjoy sinking his fangs into Quillan's neck but he released Zara’s arm. Zara didn't need another clue that she'd nearly been the beast's main entrée and turned on her stiletto heel, the sound of the door slamming behind her like music to my ears. The Ford started up and screeched from the driveway.

  Zara was safe. And Quillan was here. The night was looking up.

  “It's good to see you, Quill,” I offered, keeping my gaze trained on the vamp. “Can you keep the vamp and the gnome occupied while I cuff Pudgy?”

  He didn’t answer so I glanced behind me and found Quillan's Op 7 aimed directly between my eyes.

  “Sorry, Dulce, but no.”

  NINETEEN

  With Quillan's gun pointed between my eyes, I really wanted to believe he just had bad aim. But, unfortunately, the facts in this case were starting to align like the planets. The potions in the vault at Headquarters hadn’t been destroyed because Quillan was selling them to these idiots. All this time Quillan had been the in. How freaking stupid had I been? Well, if I managed to live through this, one thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn’t doubt myself again. It was a lesson I’d much rather have learned from an after-school special.

  “Quillan?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  “Drop your weapon, Dulcie.”

  Though I sensed a slight quake in his voice, the steel set of his eyes warned me not to argue or even try and pull a fast one on him. He knew me well enough to know the gamut of emotions running through my mind.

  I didn't drop my Op 6, but Pudgy took it upon himself to step out from underneath the barrel of the gun with a satisfied smile, and I begrudgingly allowed him to. Then his smile turned ugly, and his eyes pinched at the ends as amusement fled his expression, giving way to anger.

  He slammed his fist into my lower abdomen. Pain seared through me as though he'd shredded my intestines rather than just sucker-punched me. I reeled back, hitting the wall and gripped my stomach. The pain became too intense, and I succumbed, sliding down the wall to the ground.

  Where the hell was Knight?

  Pudgy pulled his leg back like he was about to lay his boot in my stomach, where he'd just introduced his fist but Quillan grabbed him. “You lay one more finger on her, and I'll kill you myself,” he said, the truth of his words echoed in the ire of his eyes.

  Pudgy hesitated, his boot issuing plenty of warning of its own as it hovered beside my still upset stomach. But, then he backed away, apparently wanting no quarrel with Quillan and started for the opposite side of the room. I sat up and leaned against the wall, cradling my bruised gut as I took deep breaths. The bastard had landed a good shot.

  “Dulcie, get up,” Quillan said, and I glanced up to find his gun still aimed at me. Any relief I'd encountered fled like a thief in the night as soon as I remembered I still had Quillan to deal with. I took one last deep breath and forced myself to my feet even though my stomach roiled against the insult.

  “Kill her now,” the vamp said.

  I glared daggers at him, but they just bounced off him like water on a freshly waxed car. Now that he was in a position of power, his true surliness was coming through. I'd figured he'd be a difficult one. Bastard.

  “The Kragengen needs to feed,” the gnome said, raising his chin in my direction as if to say I should assume the role of first course.

  I eyed the creature, and it began drooling at the mention of its next feeding. I couldn't help but imagine its multiple teeth grating away at my flesh. I glanced back at Quillan. “You better kill me first.”

  “No one is feeding you to the Kragengen,” Quillan snapped, then eyed the others as if to reiterate his point. “I'm taking her into the bedroom so you three hang tight.” They chuckled at the mention of the bedroom. Quillan started forward then paused, turning to face them again. “I mean it. No one leaves this room.”

  “Save a little for us,” the gnome called out.

  I flipped him off before Quillan grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pushed me down the hall, unceremoniously thrusting me into the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

  “Goddamit, Dulcie,” he admonished. “Talk about nearly blowing my cover.”

  “Your cover?” I repeated angrily; how freaking dumb did he think I was?

  A small smile skipped across his lips and he shook his head, apparently at my stupidity. “You didn’t actually think I was guilty did you?”

  Um, yeah I had and I still thought he was guilty, but the A.N.C motto was innocent until proven guilty. Guess I could give him the chance to explain.

  “Okay, so what the hell are you doing working undercover on a case like this by yourself? Have you lost your mind?”

  He kept his eyes on the door but that smile wouldn’t leave his lips. “This was a tough case to break, Dulce, so I did what I thought best.” He paused and then brought his attention to the window behind me. “Climb out the window and I’ll think of something to tell them.”

  “I’m not leaving you here to tackle this alone. I’m staying,” I said, knowing the time for mindlessly believing in Quillan was long gone.

  He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  I was quiet as I reasoned with myself not to let my anger get the best of me. No, I would be level-headed and calm, cool and collected. “Quillan, look at me,” I said in a small voice. If I was a terrible liar, Quillan was just as bad. This would be the test that would tell the Hades-honest truth.

  When he turned to face me, it was like he was moving in slow motion. And when his eyes met mine, his pupils were wide.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  He didn’t need to answer. The slight twitch in his left eye was answer enough. I lashed out and smacked him across the face with the palm of my hand.

  “I thought I was your friend, Quillan.”

  He gritted his teeth, but I didn't think his frustration or anger had anything to do with the fact that I'd just slapped him. He kept his gun trained on my forehead, and the red of my slap burned an imprint on his cheek. His jaw was tight. “I like to think we had more than a friendship, Dulcie.”

  I wouldn't admit anything. Not when whatever I'd thought we had was as fragile as a balloon and Quillan was playing the role of the needle. “Whatever we had, Quillan, it's long gone now,” I said in a small voice. I swallowed against the tears that suddenly threatened my eyes.

  I would not cry.

  I would focus on the facts of this case and figure the damned thing out. It was all I had left. “So, all those illegal potions I found in the vault at Headquarters…you never intended to destroy them because you were selling them all along.”

  “How did you get in there? How did you know about…”

  “Never mind that now,” I interrupted, holding up my hand to silence him. I stared at the black stains on the beige carpet, questions swarming through my mind like flies on a carcass.

  “How are you involved in this?” For now, the personal part had to be shelved. All that remained were the dry, dirty facts. And, as a good Regulator, I lived for those facts.

  “Dulcie, please believe I never wanted anything to happen to you.” He dropped his eyes. “My feelings for you h
aven’t changed.”

  “Well, in that case, why don't we forget about the fact that because of you, Fabian, Guy and Tad are dead, and let’s go get married,” I said, my eyes constricted. “Holy Hades, Quillan, you screwed up...royally.”

  Quillan nodded, and the emotion in his eyes dissipated, replaced by cold stone—as if he’d just had the misfortune of glancing at Medusa. He pointed to the mattress, his jaw even tighter than it had been before. “Sit down. I’m in charge and I’ll ask the questions.”

  I took one look at the filthy mattress before returning my less-than-thrilled gaze back to Quillan. “I'm not getting anywhere near that thing. I don't care if you shoot me or not.”

  He sighed. “Sit wherever. I don't have time to screw around with you right now, Dulce. In case you haven't noticed, we're in a grave situation.”

  I sat down in the corner of the room and leaned my back up against the wall, exhaling with exhaustion. “Don't call me Dulce.” It was all I could think to say. Quillan wasn't my friend and, truly, never had been. Only friends could call me by my nickname.

  “How did you get here?” he asked.

  “I never stopped working the case,” I started. “I guess you can say I'm good at my job. I just figured it out, and here I am.” I purposely omitted any references to Knight. Speaking of, where the hell was he? If he wanted to show up any time now, that'd be great. Goddamn men.

  “Who helped you?”

  Hmm, Dagan, Knight, even Bram a little. Trey, Sam...the list went on. “You should know better than to ask me that question.” He knew the rules... I'd been trained not to give up names—even under duress.

  Quillan smiled. “I should never have expected less of you.”

  I didn't return the smile. “Now, how about you answer some questions for me?”

  He shook his head. “The less you know, the safer you are.”

  I gave him a courtesy laugh. “You really don't think I'm just going to walk away from here? That vamp out there is dying to kill me. No pun intended. And if he doesn't get to do the job, the gnome looked pretty thrilled about taking it on himself and the human...”

  “No one will hurt you,” he interrupted, the pained expression on his face suggesting how much he disliked the thought of my death by anyone's hand. Touching...but I didn't have time for this.

  “I'll say you escaped.” He paused, as if deep in thought. “Dulcie, do the smart thing and pretend like you never came here tonight.”

  “And what? Continue working with you? Knowing you're a criminal?” I could feel the anger simmering through me and burning my eyes. “We'll just continue going to lunch and making fun of Trey and acting like everything's hunky dory?”

  “I'm done with Headquarters. Obviously, I can't go back.”

  If I had anything to do with it, he would be going back to Headquarters, all right, but occupying a cell until the Netherworld figured out what to do with him. Even though I knew it had to be done, it wasn't a thought that brought me any sort of joy. “I want answers, Quillan. I'm not giving up on this.” I was probably signing my own death warrant, but it was too late for regrets. Guess I have a big mouth.

  “Stand up,” Quillan said. “I'm going to break the window, and I want you to climb down and run out of here as fast as you can. Don't look back.”

  I shook my head. “You should know me better than that.”

  I wouldn't run away. I couldn't run away.

  “Goddamn, Dulcie, for once don't be so pig-headed. I'm trying to buy your life. I don't want you getting hurt.”

  He made the mistake of looking away, so I shot to my feet and jumped on him, knowing he couldn't shoot me...well, hoping he couldn't shoot me. I pushed him into the wall, and we clamored against one another, me straining for the gun and him trying to hang onto it. Not wanting to alert the three stooges in the living room, I buffered our little tiff with a magic cloud so they couldn't hear a thing.

  With a growl, Quillan flipped me over his shoulder. I hit the floor square on my back but not before trying to stabilize myself against the wall. Searing pain shot through the palm of my right hand. Glancing down, I saw the tell-tale signs of gold and glimpsed a rusty nail jutting from the line where the carpet met the wall. Damn, that was the hand I used to create fairy dust. Looked like I couldn’t rely on my magic for the rest of the night. Hades be damned!

  Before I could roll out of the way, Quillan pinned me to the carpet. “Damn it, Dulce, listen to reason. I’m trying to save your ass.”

  But I wasn't interested in him saving my ass. I was more interested in overpowering him. Even though he had me pinned, fairies are faster than elves. In a split second, I bucked him off and wrenched the gun from his grasp, trying to ignore the searing pain as the gun made contact with my ripped palm. Even if it hurt like a son of a bitch, at least I could close my hand around it. The night was looking up.

  “Back off me,” I hissed and thrust the gun into his sternum.

  Quillan must have been more afraid of me shooting him than I was of him shooting me, because his eyes widened as he pushed away from me. Then his gaze found the drops of gold falling from my palm like Rumpelstiltkin’s wet dream.

  “You’re hurt.”

  I pushed aside his concern with a shake of my head. “I want to know how long you've been working with these creeps.”

  He swallowed, the mental conflict of whether to tell me or not playing out on his features like a classic movie. I had a feeling the barrel of the gun pointed at his face might influence his decision.

  “A little over a year.”

  “And tell me if I’m right—you killed Fabian and Guy because they were infringing on your turf?”

  He shook his head and stood up. “No, I had nothing to do with their deaths.”

  “And how did you feel about the fact that even if you didn’t kill him directly, because of your involvement, Tad is dead. A kid, Quillan, he was just a kid.”

  He dropped his head. “I didn’t want any of them dead. This whole situation went too far. The six of us were working together distributing illegal potions but Frank, the human, got greedy and decided to dust Fabian and Guy.”

  “So, why kill Tad? He wasn’t selling anything.”

  “They killed him behind my back. He’d been at Guy’s when they’d put the hit out on Guy and Tad had seen Frank.”

  I promised myself I’d see Frank dead. If it was the last thing I did, I would see him dead. I owed that much to Tad. “So, Frank called the creature to kill all three of them?”

  Quillan shook his head. “The vamp did—he has connections directly to the Netherworld. This all happened against my will, Dulcie, you have to believe me. I never wanted it to go this far.”

  I wanted to believe him, but look where my trust had gotten me so far. “Looks like you got in way over your head,” I said and he nodded. “That's why you shouldn't have trusted them in the first place. God, Quillan, I never picked you for the dumb type.”

  He swallowed, his face downcast, and disregarded my comment. “I never wanted anyone killed, Dulcie, and I never would've summoned the creature.”

  “So, why get involved in the first place, Quillan?”

  “I’ve regretted it since the day I decided to do something with those potions. It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

  I wasn’t interested in a regretful Quillan. I needed to get the details of the case more than anything else. “So, you put the spell on Trey and you used an illegal ingredient so it would take us longer to crack it.”

  He nodded. “I had to. The gnome is a sensitive so he was able to tell every time Trey had a vision. Frank wanted to put a hit out on Trey, but of course, I couldn't allow that. To keep Trey safe, I put him under the sleeping spell and told Frank I'd taken care of him. When the gnome didn't get any more hints that Trey was having visions, I guess they believed me.”

  “And Frank put the hit out on me then that day in the woods outside my apartment?”

  Quillan bobbed his head. “
I had to tell him I was pretending to investigate the case with you. I guess he got scared and decided it was better to have you out of the picture.”

  I remembered that night—how frightened I'd been, how Quillan had seemed so nonchalant, so unconcerned about what had been out there. Then I remembered the gremlins. “You ordered the gremlins?”

  “Yes, when the Relations Office said you were on hiatus, I suggested they send gremlins to further protect you. I thought it would be a good idea.” Then he paused. “How did the Relations Office happen to know you were involved in this?”

  I shrugged, feigning innocence. “I have no idea. That was my next question for you.” Ha, my acting was getting better and better.

  “No idea.”

  I sighed, figuring I knew as much as I needed to. Then I remembered Knight telling me to keep everyone in the living room and figured I should start corralling them. I waved the gun in a motion of “get up” and Quillan did as he was told. “We're going back into the living room. You walk in front of me and don't try anything because I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

  He nodded solemnly. “There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?”

  I shook my head. “Eight ball's sources say no.”

  He laughed quietly but it was a sad sound. “I will miss you, Dulcie. Whatever happens, I'm going to miss you.”

  I didn't care to think about what exactly he thought might happen or how ominous his words sounded. Whatever I'd felt for Quillan was in the process of being blocked up by an impervious wall, never to see the light of my emotions again.

  “Okay, out you go,” I said, my voice hoarse with fatigue.

  Just as soon as the words left my mouth, the lights twitched like they were blinking and then died, leaving us in total darkness. I grabbed Quillan's collar and pressed the cold nose of the gun into the back of his neck. “Don't do anything stupid.”

  Seconds later, the sound of crashing glass shattered the still of the night, followed by scuffling, and I figured Knight had finally arrived. And it was about goddamned time.