Page 16 of Blood Stone

Chapter Four

Winter stepped out of the restaurant after eating an expensive lunch she hadn’t wanted, looked around carefully for a woman in a headscarf, without telegraphing that she was doing much more than putting on her sunglasses and adjusting her hair in reaction to the sweltering heat beating up from the concrete all around her. Then she headed west along the drive once more, secure in the knowledge that she had offloaded Finka Zupan and could get on with her business.

She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket as she skirted around slower tourists and checked the time. The meeting Nial and Sebastian had arranged would be over by now. It would be safe for her to call. She thumbed the speed dial for Sebastian’s number, knowing he would be more likely to answer.

“Problems?” he said, without preamble. His voice was a soft, deep caress in her ear. “You should be at the agency by now.”

“I’ve dealt with it,” she assured him. “Just letting you know I’m delayed.”

“How delayed?”

“Forty minutes. Nothing crucial.”

“Do you need help with clean-up at all?”

She thought about it for a few seconds. Did she need to do anything about Finka Zupan, or would simple denial be enough? It had been over twenty years. With Winter flat out denying who she was, Finka must surely doubt her own memory of the scrawny child she once knew in Serbia. “No,” she told Sebastian. “No clean-up is needed. It’s done.”

“See you back at home,mo bhean álainn.” He disconnected.

Winter checked the time again, before tucking her phone back in her pocket. She could reach the agency before the lunch rush if she hurried.

Finka Zupan stepped out of a deeply recessed store doorway and stopped in front of Winter. She reached for Winter’s arm with both of hers and held on with a strength that anchored Winter to the pavement. “All I want is to talk. Two minutes of your time. Just talk. That’s all.Please.”

“Listen, whoever you are, I told you before, I’m not who you think you are.”

“You can be whoever you want,” Finka replied. “I don’t care who you are now. But I know who you were. Deny it until you’re blue in the face, but you and I both know the truth.”

Winter scrabbled at the woman’s grip on her arm. She couldn’t use her ability to adjust other people’s biologies right out here on Hollywood Boulevard. There were way too many witnesses. The only way she was going to get Finka to let her arm go would be to put Finka to sleep or numb her body...

Winter took in a sharp breath. She didn’t have to numb the entire body. Just parts of it.

She began to babble, to cover up what she was doing. “If you don’t let me go right now, I’m going to call the police. You’ve got fifteen seconds before I start yelling my head off, lady.”

And as she spoke, she used the grip Finka had on her arm as a conduit to reach into Finka’s body. Just far enough in to find the nerves serving the woman’s wrists and hands and send them to sleep. She gave it the fifteen seconds she had allowed Finka, then she wrenched her arm away from the woman and stepped back. Finka’s hands fell uselessly to her sides.

Finka held up her hands, looking at them with a puzzled expression. Clearly, she was trying to flex the fingers, or curl them and was finding them unresponsive.

Winter didn’t wait for Finka’s next move. She turned and started walking again, as fast as she could manage without breaking into a run. Her heart was thundering. Adrenaline. Fear.

She poured soothing chemicals into her system, calming herself.

Finka landed on her back.

Winter went sprawling, her hands and knees scraping along the cement, peeling back the skin and shredding it. She cried out and her briefcase went flying.

People stepped carefully around them and moved on. After all, this was L.A.

Winter rolled over onto her butt and sat up. The heels of her hands were stinging madly and her knees were a bloody mess. She would have to heel them afterwards. For right now, she could do nothing about them. She reached for the briefcase and pulled it closer, before some opportunistic thief took possession of it.

Finka held up her hands. The fingers were still useless claws. “Got the wrong person, do I?” she asked softly. “There’s only one girl in the world that could do this to me, and I’m looking at her. We both know what you are. You can use whatever name you want. I don’t care.” She swivelled her hands so they turned like freakish dead trees on display. “I care about the person who can do this...and other things.”

Winter felt sick. By using her talent even a little, she had confirmed for Finka she was Morana. She hid her face and any expression that might show, by slowly getting to her feet.

Finka brushed herself off with the back of her hands and got up awkwardly, too. Winter didn’t offer to help.

“You knew what I was, back in Serbia,” she said softly.

“I heard rumours. Too many to ignore,” Finka said. “And there was the way your father treated you.” She grimaced. “Like the devil himself had taken up residence. But now I know it is true.” She studied Winter. “I need your help. And I have come a long way to get it.”