Page 9

NINE

Thorn

If I were not beholden to our liberator’s efforts on our behalf, there were many things I could have complained about in regards to this mortal woman. The way she rattled the tines of her fork against the sides of one of the boxes our dinner had arrived in. The squeak of the kitchen chair’s feet as she periodically tipped back her weight in it. The little laughs she made to herself while she prodded her “laptop” into producing information that apparently was more amusing than useful to our quest.

She made a lot of jokes, this one. Here in her home, out at the bridge, in that large room full of padded chairs where she’d met with the rest of her “Fund” friends. And always singing her silly songs too. As if Omen’s life might not depend on how quickly we could decipher what had happened to him. As if so many other lives might not hang in the balance based on what we discovered.

But none of those things were worth putting into words, not when I knew that without her I’d have still been locked in a cage. I might not appreciate her attitude, but I’d ensure no harm came to her on my watch. If it itched at me that I wasn’t out scouring the streets for our leader right now, I had only to remind myself that the mortal had uncovered far more connections in the past day than we’d managed in the many weeks before. The fact that most of those weeks had been spent in captivity only compounded that failure.

Omen had counted on us. He’d counted on me , specifically, to defend our group and subdue any enemies we encountered. It didn’t matter what the incubus said—he was made to cajole and placate. I had failed, again, and if I didn’t correct that failing quickly, it could turn into an even greater disaster than the time before.

“Ah ha!” the lady crowed, and waved her hand rather wildly at the glowing screen of her device. “There’s a flea market in a town near here called Merry Den Market.”

I couldn’t imagine there being much of a demand among mortals to buy fleas, but she seemed satisfied with the discovery. I stirred in the chair I’d taken across from her. “You believe the people we’re looking for could be keeping Omen there?”

“I don’t know.” A thin line formed on her pale brow as she tapped her fork against her lips. “It doesn’t look like the kind of place hunters or anyone else dealing in shadowkind would operate out of… but you can’t always tell by appearances. That could make it a perfect cover. It’s closed now, but we can go check it out tomorrow. I won’t be able to stop by Jade’s until the evening anyway.”

Ruse straightened up from where he’d been lounging against the doorframe. “A little road trip. I’m looking forward to it.”

Since we’d finished our meal, Snap had been puttering around the mortal’s living room asking the incubus about every object he encountered. Now, the devourer poked his head out, his eyes eagerly wide. “Road trip? Does that mean we’ll take one of those… cars?”

The lady grimaced. “I don’t have one. Not much need for it when you’re living downtown—and you can make stealthier getaways on foot. I actually never even got my license.” She looked vaguely embarrassed about this admission, as if there were any honor in burning gas through a metal shell to make wheels spin.

“I suppose it’s too much to hope that there might be horses we can make use of?” I said.

Her mouth twitched, because apparently she found that remark amusing as well. “Sorry, but no. It looks like there’s a bus that should drop us off right outside, though.”

“Should we ever find ourselves with a car of some sort, I can manage to drive,” Ruse offered. “I may even be able to help with the finding one part.”

She shot him a skeptical glance, still smiling. “You mean you’d seduce someone into giving us theirs?”

He spread his hands with a smirk in return. “I’d rather think of it as reminding them of the potential generosity in their nature.”

I shifted in my seat again, tamping down on my irritation. The incubus never took anything all that seriously either. His skill at reading and manipulating emotions would have come in handy if we’d gotten farther into our investigations with Omen, but he was no use at all in a battle.

“Let’s see if I can turn up any other promising results, in case the flea market isn’t what we’re looking for,” the lady said, returning her attention to the computer.

Snap was still peering into the kitchen. “What’s a bus?” he asked.

Ruse motioned him back into the living room, following at his heels. “Let Sorsha do her computer magic. I’ll explain.”

“The computer runs on magic ?”

The incubus chuckled before their voices faded out with the closing of the door. The lady’s smile turned wry. “Sometimes it does seem that way. Including the unpredictable element. Oh, hey, Pickle.”

She clucked her tongue, and the little green creature that appeared to follow her all around the apartment scrambled up to her lap and then her shoulder. She plucked one last morsel of sauced chicken out of the carton and offered it to him. He gulped it down with a bob of his long throat and a pleased thrum of his chest plates.

Watching, I found I couldn’t quite hold my tongue about that gnawing complaint.

“You freed us and the lesser beings in that prison from our cages,” I said. “Why do you keep this creature at your beck and call?”

She reached up to scratch the underside of the minor shadowkind’s chin. “Beck and call? You haven’t been paying attention if you think Pickle listens to me any more often than he wants to.”

“He is confined here, is he not? You don’t let him leave.” I’d never seen him so much as dip into the shadows, though I couldn’t see any evidence of how she might have forced his physical presence.

The mortal fixed her gaze on me more steadily then, with a puzzled blink. “He stays because he wants to. It’s a pretty good gig—food and cuddles for doing a very half-assed job as a guard dragon.”

Did she suppose that made her possession of him acceptable? “The ‘collector’ who imprisoned us fed us as well.”

Her free hand balled where it was resting on the table. “You’re comparing me to those pricks? Are you kidding me?”

Any trace of humor had left her voice. I’d clearly offended her. That seemed only fair, when the sight of her carting around her pet shadowkind offended me at least as much.

“You’re welcome to educate me on exactly how it’s different,” I said.

Her jaw tensed. For a second, I thought I might see a flare of anger as scorching as that hair of hers. Then she appeared to master herself. She stroked the creature’s flank.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” she said, her tone more cold than fiery. “ I’m doing you all kinds of favors. But since you brought it up—Pickle can’t survive on his own. The hunter who sold him or the collector who bought him had his wings clipped so he can barely fly, and he wasn’t made to get around by walking—if you can even call that waddle ‘walking.’ Would anyone back in the shadow realm make sure he had all the food he needs and that he didn’t go stumbling through a rift into a hunter’s snare again?”

I had noticed the creature barely used those wings, but I had to admit I’d assumed it was laziness due to his captivity, not a disability. As to her question… I gritted my teeth before I answered, “No, I don’t suppose there would be.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t looking to take on a pet, let alone one I’d have to hide from any regular person who comes around the apartment, but he was there in one of the houses I set fire to a couple years back, and he obviously couldn’t look after himself, so I wasn’t going to just abandon him.”

She brandished her fork at me. “You should be glad I’m not in the habit of kicking shadowkind to the curb, or imagine where you could be. If you want to be mad at someone, make it the assholes who thought mangling Pickle’s body was a reasonable way to treat another living being.”

She was obviously mad at them. Her voice had stayed flat, but a tartness had crept into her tone, and the bright flash of her copper-brown eyes— I wasn’t sure I’d envy any mortal being who went up against her. Imagine what she might do with a sword.

Perhaps, under the jokes and frivolity, she did care quite a bit.

“My apologies,” I said, with a stiffness I couldn’t smooth out. “I shouldn’t have leapt to such a conclusion. You’ve been very generous with us—and it seems you are with your little green companion as well.”

Sorsha eyed me for a moment longer as if confirming that I was being genuine. Then she relaxed in her chair. Now that I recognized the bond as one of protection rather than incarceration, it was impossible not to see the affection with which she tipped her cheek toward the creature to meet his nuzzle.

No, I hadn’t been fair at all. I grappled with the twist of discomfort that acknowledgment brought and then leaned forward. If she could surprise me that much, I’d like to discover what else I might have missed.

“Tell me more about this ‘flea market,’ would you, m’lady?”