Hidden Dragons (12 page)

“I don’t know,” she said, mindful of not lying. “That was . . .”

“Intense?”

“Yes.”

He shifted his big hands to rub her back. “Maybe we shouldn’t think about it too hard.”

He sounded so hopeful Cass laughed. She climbed off him as gently as she could. Though he didn’t protest, he watched her intently. “You
are
going to think about it,” he predicted.

“I’m a girl,” she said.

He sprawled back on his elbows, his fine male form unabashedly exposed. “You’re also fae. Aren’t they supposed to be more casual about sex?”

Was he hoping she’d be? She couldn’t read his careful expression. “Maybe sometimes. I suppose it depends.”

He yawned until his jaw cracked, then laughed at himself. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I got lucky, much less had sex that good. I’m afraid you took the starch out of me.”

She didn’t feel like she’d done much at all—apart from going along with an amazing ride. Also, what did
a while
mean to a man as hot as him? Surely not as long as it meant to her. He was really good at lovemaking. That didn’t happen without practice.

“I should let you sleep,” she said.

He caught her arm before she could leave the bed. He softened the restraining gesture by caressing her with his thumb. “Stay. Please.” He lifted his cuffed right arm and grinned. “This thing will certainly be happier if you’re close.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have, but she allowed him to coax her down beside him. His chest was a hard pillow, but she liked it all the same. Bit by bit, his thudding heart slowed beneath her ear. He was asleep within two minutes, all guy when it came to that as well.

No teddy bear had ever been so warm to snuggle to.

You’d better not fall for him
, she warned herself. When it came to love, her faerie luck tended to run crooked.

~

When Rick woke an hour later, not only was Cass still there, she was sprawled across his body like a blanket. She was tall but slender, and the difference in their sizes made him feel manly. He enjoyed that more than he should—just as he’d enjoyed her unexpected shyness about making love to him.

Realizing this, he frowned at the tulle-draped canopy above him. His fingers were curved into her silky hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull them free. He’d been wishing he had someone special in his life. Casting Snow White in that role was ridiculous. Faeries were the rock gods of Resurrection, and half fae weren’t far behind. Just last year, the
Pocket Observer
ran a survey of top male fantasies. One night with a part fae had edged out threesomes with lesbians. Given that Cass could have anyone she wanted, she could do considerably better than a blue-collar working stiff like him—and likely would once she adjusted to being home again.

Rick let out a gusty sigh. It was just his bad luck the sex had been fantastic.

A jingling noise jerked his head around on the pillow. Poly the cat was staring at him from the top of a flowered chair. He couldn’t help but interpret her expression as baleful.

“You’ll have to wait to get your spot back,” he warned her quietly. “I’m not leaving this minute.”

The cat made a sound that was amusingly grumble-like.

“Where’s my shovel?” Cat muttered against his chest.

She hadn’t woken. She was talking in her sleep. Rick laughed softly to himself. He found it reassuring that she was human enough for that.

LE Beau Toys was on a city street so narrow only bikes and pedestrians could get through. Mostly residential, what shops there were boasted worn brick fronts and hand-painted signs. Rick drove Cass there first thing in the morning, a venture that involved her putting her high heeled designer shoe through a not-quite-empty Star’s Brew cup. Someone—probably Tony—had left it in the passenger side foot well.

Cass was dressed like a businesswoman: tailored trousers, silk shirt, expensive fitted jacket with a single button to do up. When the coffee splashed her pants cuff, she let out a cry of dismay and immediately spelled it off.

She was good at little spells—not to mention nervous about seeing her father. Then again, the sartorial armor might have been meant to distance her from Rick. They hadn’t woken up like lovers, their morning-after awkwardness impossible to miss. Rick didn’t know how to overcome it, or even if he should try.

Because he had to park the Buick around the corner, they walked side by side up the slightly uneven sidewalk. Neither of them attempted to make chitchat. When they reached the address it was 7:02 a.m. Her father’s toyshop still displayed its CLOSED sign. Rick peered up the narrow building to the apartment where Cass said her dad lived. Two windows, also dark, marked the front. Something was off. Rick could feel it. The little street was quiet, few residents stirring yet. He smelled them cooking breakfast, heard them running water and speaking softly to roommates or spouses. He called his wolf closer to the surface and realized what had alarmed him.

Roald le Beau’s apartment was empty. No sounds. No food smells. No warmth or energy. Rick couldn’t be certain until he did a search, but he was willing to bet no one alive or dead was in there.

“Do you have a key?” he asked Cass quietly.

“You aren’t going in there without me.” Her response was hushed. Like him, she’d noticed the offness in the atmosphere.

“Cass.” He held her eyes sternly. “Give me the key to your father’s place.”

She gnawed her lip, then gave in and opened her smart under-elbow purse. “I’ll hang back,” she said as she passed him a pair of keys on a ring. “But I am coming up with you.”

Rick would have preferred she remain outside but didn’t see how to force her. Too, if her father was in there and just hiding magically, Rick might need Cass to announce him as a friend. Approaching purebloods without an invitation was rarely a good idea.

Resigned, he nodded curtly to her and drew his gun. He held it beside his leg for now. No point alarming the neighbors.

The first key she’d given him opened the shop’s front door. The overhead light didn’t work when she hit the switch, but other than that everything seemed normal. Le Beau’s wasn’t set up for browsing. Rick concluded custom commissioned toys were its mainstay. The shelves were a hodgepodge, the big worktable at the back the apparent center of activity. A half wall shielded the tool bench from the street window’s view.

The variety of enchantments that had been spun there pricked thickly through Rick’s arm hair.

“That’s the door to the stairs,” Cass whispered, pointing it out. “Dad’s apartment is at the top.”

“Stay here until I check it,” he said, not wanting her caught on the steps with him.

She frowned, and he frowned harder. When she crossed her arms, he knew he’d won. Rick hadn’t become Adam’s second without a generous serving of natural authority.

The old wooden staircase was narrow, making him glad he’d insisted she stay behind. His nose twitched as he climbed. He smelled sawdust and drywall and maybe singed cotton. The butt of his Smith & Wesson was braced in both hands now. He wouldn’t need Cass’s key to open her father’s door. As it came into view, he saw it was ajar. To judge by the splintering, the lock had been busted from the frame.

He blew out a silent breath to control his adrenaline. Peering briefly into the opening revealed no one.

“Mr. le Beau,” he called quietly. “I’m from the RPD. Your daughter sent me to check on you.”

No response came back. Rick shouldered the door open. He saw at once that the living room/kitchenette was a disaster zone. Refusing to let that distract him, he proceeded to each room gun-first and cleared it. The process was quick. These were humble digs for a faerie. One bedroom. One bath. One closet for storage. The only indulgence was a glassed-in sunroom for growing plants.

They and their soil had been dumped onto the floor.

Satisfied he was alone, Rick relaxed marginally and straightened. He fought an urge to whistle at the shambles that surrounded him. The small apartment had been ransacked to an extent he’d never seen before. Every piece of furniture appeared to be overturned. The walls were ripped apart to the actual studs. Holes gaped in the ceiling, and floorboards were torn up.

It was no wonder the stair had smelled like demo.

Rick spied numerous long scorch marks under the disarray—suggesting they’d been created first. This apartment had been the site of an epic battle, at least partially mystical. Certainly a spell had been required to prevent the neighbors from hearing it.

“Oh my God,” Cass moaned, frozen in horror at the doorway.

She was pale by nature, but now she looked slightly green. Rick was about to reassure her he’d smelled no blood, then remembered a pureblood faerie wouldn’t leave any. Their blood devolved to sparkles, and their sparkles were volatile. If her father had died here, he wouldn’t necessarily leave evidence of it.

“Your father isn’t here,” he said instead.

She waded a few awkward high-heeled steps into the broken clutter. Her hands rose shakily to her mouth. “There was a fight . . .”

“Yes.” He let her process this. “Afterward, it appears someone searched the place, probably whoever he fought with. Did your father keep valuables here?”

She shook her head, her stress making the gesture extra emphatic. “Dad didn’t have valuables. His magic was his living. He didn’t spell up extras like some fae do.”

Rick was standing across the room from her in the upended kitchenette. Even the stove had been dragged from the wall. “This isn’t where you grew up.”

“No,” she confirmed distractedly. “Dad moved above his shop after the divorce.”

Her soft blue gaze came to his. “He’s alive,” she said firmly. “I’d know if he were gone.”

He wanted her to hold onto that steel. “I agree.”

Despite his intention, her eyes welled up and glittered. Maybe she knew he was being kind. Pressing her lips together, she turned her head away. His heart squeezed tight without warning. Her profile was the most exquisite—and possibly the saddest—he’d ever seen.

“I should look around,” she said. “See if I can sense what happened here magically.”

He allowed her to do so, sticking close by her side as she walked from room to room. More than once she appeared perplexed by what she found, though she didn’t speak or touch anything. Rick observed no family pictures among her dad’s belongings. There wasn’t much of anything personal.

The furniture was so modest Rick could have afforded it.

The single bedroom was at the rear, overlooking an alley and the fire escapes of a similar stretch of brick buildings. As Rick looked out the window, a curtain in the structure directly opposite fell closed.

He smiled. Nosy neighbors were among his favorite witnesses. Giving in to the urge, he laid one hand on Cass’s tense shoulder.

“Have you seen what you need?” he asked. “I think I’ve found someone we can question.”

~

Mrs. Nemo was an elderly human woman with a touch of blue elf—as evidenced by the robin’s egg luster in her otherwise silver hair. Within two minutes of being let into her home, they learned she was 120, had eight great grandchildren, and couldn’t eat spicy food like she used to.

She served them coffee and store-bought cookies in her cozy parlor. Rick noticed Cass sat as gingerly on her little chair as him.

“Eat!” their hostess urged. “You’re both too skinny.”

Rick didn’t know in what universe he qualified as
skinny
, but he thanked her for the refreshments. Then he steered the conversation back on topic. “About what you saw last night . . .”

“Oh
my
yes.” She settled back into a cushioned chair that was exactly sized for her. “That was a to-do.”

“Just start at the beginning,” he suggested.

“Well, the faerie came skulking down the alley around midnight. I know because
Late Night with Kenan
had just gone off. That demon is handsome, don’t you think?”

“He is,” Cass agreed, the question seeming to be for her. Rick hadn’t introduced her by name, simply saying she was his associate.

“How did you know the skulker was a faerie?” Rick inquired.

“He was too beautiful to be human,” Mrs. Nemo explained. “And he was dressed funny. Like a Roman fighter with a leather breastplate and lace-up sandals. Also, when he climbed the fire escape, I saw him from the back. He had his wings hidden like they do, but I saw their energy glowing.” She tapped her temple. “My bit of elf blood lets me see and hear more than plain humans.”

“So he climbed the fire escape. Did someone let him in the building?”

“No. He magicked the lock on the window. There’s a light on the landing, but he spelled it to go out.”

If he’d disrupted the power in the building, that explained the shop’s broken switch.

“Then what did he do?” Rick asked.

“We-ell,” said their hostess, drawing out the word for effect—leaving Rick in no doubt that she relished having an audience. “He closed his eyes and chanted and put the whole street to sleep! It was an amazing spell. Pigeons fell over on their roosts. Probably a few people too, because I heard some thumps.”

“But you didn’t sleep,” Cass said, speaking for the first time.

“I’m an old lady!” the woman crowed. “And a terrible insomniac. Apparently even purebloods can’t knock me out.”

Rick hid his amusement behind his delicate coffee cup. “Then what?”

Mrs. Nemo pointed toward the parlor window. “I figured something interesting was happening so I crouched at the sill. I didn’t want the faerie to know I was awake. He called through the door to the nice toymaker who lives there. He said, ‘Jig’s up, keeper. Time to hand over what you’ve stolen.’ And then he kicked in the door.”

She nodded to herself as Cass stuck her thumbnail between her teeth. Their hostess didn’t notice. She was focused on her memory. “That was quite a fight. I didn’t see it until they got to the bedroom, but that was plenty. Karate kicks, and fireballs, and each of them throwing up magic shields to thwart the other. Both of them were so juiced their skin shot sparks like suns. Finally, the Roman faerie got Mr. le Beau up against the wall by the throat. ‘Where are they?’ he said. ‘Where have you hidden them?’”