Secret Worlds (526 page)

“Here we go,” he announced after a moment, and turning the book around to face us, pointed to a single line. “A glamour bracelet and a pain amulet were purchased two days ago by Elena Shoup.”

“Who the hell is that?” I asked while stomping down on the seed of doubt that had begun to bloom in the pit of my stomach.

I’d hoped we’d stumble on the evidence that damned Johnson right away, refusing to entertain the notion that he wasn’t operating alone. For the most part, his assault had seemed to stem from a personal vendetta against weres, but if he was working with someone else it suggested the whole thing was part of something bigger. That complicated things.

Turning to face Holbrook I said, “We’re no closer to figuring this out than we were before.”

“What about the persuasion charm? Where would Shoup have gotten that?” Holbrook asked, ignoring my comment. At least one of us hadn’t given up hope at the first roadblock.

“Not here, that’s for sure. I don’t deal in illegal merchandise, and anything that starts to influence the minds of others is definitely hedging towards black magic. That doesn’t mean you can’t find ways to get your hands on it though, if you know where to look.”

“And where would you look?” I asked.

“Like I said, that’s black magic. I don’t mess with that crap,” Killian replied with a tight smile.

Perhaps sensing my growing frustration, Holbrook interrupted to ask, “And Shoup? Is she a regular?”

“Not really, but I’ve seen her around.” The way Killian said it made me think he didn’t like her much, but he didn’t expound on the matter.

“Was anyone with her?”

“No one came in with her, but there was a guy that stayed in the car out front.”

Pulling out his phone, Holbrook brought up a picture of Johnson in all his beady-eyed, asshat glory. “This the guy?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a clear look at him, sorry.”

“Do you have security cameras around here?” Holbrook asked, looking around the shop. I hadn’t noticed any cameras when we came in, but I hadn’t been looking either.

Who knows, maybe we’ll catch a break
, I thought.

“No, sorry. Most of our clientele prefer not to be tracked by Big Brother. Despite what the laws say, there’s still a lot of prejudice against non-humans.”

“I’m well aware of the prejudice,” Holbrook said, though I couldn’t understand why his words were tight and clipped. “Do you have any information on Shoup? A phone number? An address?”

“I do,” Killian replied slowly.

“Why didn’t you mention that before? Hand it over,” I demanded, receiving a scowl from Holbrook.

“I can’t do that. Not without a warrant.”

“Why the hell not?” I asked.

“We respect the privacy of our clients, and their desire to protect their personal information.”

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t give a fairy fart about his client’s privacy, but the vitriol laden words hanging on the tip of my tongue withered when his cat jumped down from the counter with a thud and rasping hiss. Trepidation coiled heavy in the pit of my stomach as I watched him adopt a wary crouch, the long fur of his belly brushing the wooden boards. Emitting a rumbling growl, almost too low to hear, he began to inch towards us.

Crap. This isn’t going to be good.

Loki responded in kind, filling the air with a harsh growl of his own. In an instant his tail had puffed up into a pale bottle brush, and a ridge of fur stood up along his spine. Aside from the occasional bird or rabbit that he caught outside, I’d never witnessed Loki interact with any other animals. I hadn’t realized how much my isolation affected my furry companion until that moment, and had to wonder if I was doing him a great disservice by leading such a solitary life. My unease became a living thing, lodged in the back of my throat.

Worried that it would soon come to blows I asked my two-legged companions, “Should we separate them?”

Taking my eyes off the pair, who had begun to circle each other in a slow dance, long enough to look at Holbrook and Killian, I felt a flicker of irritation when Holbrook raised his shoulders in a shrug. Meanwhile, Killian ignored my question and continued to watch the interaction with interest. Following the path of his gaze I was surprised to see that he was studying Loki rather than watching his own cat.

Having moved into the open space between the counter and a table covered in an array of crystals and candles, the two cats faced off like a couple of furry sumo wrestlers trying to decide which one of them was the bigger bad ass. Based on size alone, I was betting on Killian’s monster.

Taking a step towards them I froze when the yellow and white behemoth turned burning eyes on me. The air rushed out of me as if someone had delivered a crushing blow to my solar plexus, and I was filled with the need to put as much space between us as possible. Just as I was sure that Killian was not human, I had no doubt that the animal staring me down was not truly a cat. I had no idea what kind of creature it was, and was fairly certain that I didn’t want to find out.

Overcome with renewed concern for Loki, I swallowed the panic that fluttered in the back of my throat like a caged bird. Gritting my teeth against the fear that wanted to propel me out of the door, I stood my ground, but couldn’t summon the courage to step between them. Each was slunk low to the floor, legs spread wide and tails raised like slowly waving flags.

“Hey, Dumb and Dumber, you want to give me a hand before this turns into bloodshed?” I said.

Snapping out of his fascinated study of Loki, Killian glanced at his cat, or whatever the hell it was, and frowned.

“Ashiel. Knock it off.”

At first I wanted to laugh and ask him if that was all he had up his sleeve, but to my surprise, the tension in the air dissipated in the slow blink of gleaming yellow eyes. I could do nothing more than watch, mouth agape, as the large creature sat back on his haunches and proceeded to wash his face in a display of utter calm. Likewise, Loki assumed a stance of indifference by stretching out across the floor, only the occasional twitch of his tail belying his appearance of tranquility.

“Well, that was about as weird as an ogre in drag,” I muttered.

Together, Holbrook and Killian looked at me as if I had sprouted a second head, but I just ignored them and got back to the matter at hand.

“So, are you going to share that information about Shoup?”

Killian momentarily looked as though he’d like to sic his beast of a cat on me, but thankfully just crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

“This woman could be associated with a raving lunatic, and you won’t pony up her address because you want to protect her privacy?” I asked, mirroring his stance.

Laying a hand on my shoulder, Holbrook pulled me around to face him. “You’re not helping the situation here. Maybe you should let me do the talking. I’m the one with the badge remember, and you do seem to lack a bit of…” he started to say, and noticing the sharpness of my gaze let the rest of his words die away.

“Lack a bit of, what?” I demanded, uncrossing my arms to settle my hands on my hips.

“I simply meant that, perhaps it would be better if someone a little more…tactful…asked the questions.”

“More tactful?” I parroted, wincing at the sharp edge to my voice. He wanted to quibble over manners while this jerk was acting all high and mighty, lording his precious intel over us? Didn’t Holbrook understand that Johnson was out there, waiting for the right moment to strike and finish what he’d started? He wouldn’t need to protect me from Samson if Johnson got to me first. “Why are you taking his side?”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m trying to do my job, and you’re throwing a hissy fit.”

“No, I’m not,” I snarled, though even I could hear the whine in my voice.

Gentling his voice, Holbrook asked, “Why don’t you go wait outside?”

“Wait outside?” I repeated, my voice fading into a faint croak. He was dismissing me like an errant child. The display cases on the counter shuddered when I slammed my fist down on the smooth wood, making both of the men jump while the cats barely batted an eyelash. “This is such horseshit!”

Not waiting for a response from Holbrook, sure that whatever he had to say would just piss me off, I stomped over to where Loki was sprawled on the floor and picked him up. Turning on my heel, I stormed out of the shop, letting the door slam shut behind me. The merry tinkle of the bell above the door somewhat diminished the effect of my dramatic exit, riling my anger all the more.

Kicking at a clump of ice and road grime clinging to the wheel well of the SUV I narrowly avoided slipping on a patch of ice and falling on my ass. The sudden rush of adrenaline at my near fall worked to soothe my anger more than anything Holbrook could have done or said. Looking up, I spotted Collins and Hill watching me from inside their SUV, those damned smirks in place again.

Great. Everyone in the FBI is going to think I’m a bumbling idiot before the day is through. If they don’t already.

Hunching my shoulders up around my ears, as much to protect them from the chill wind as to hide my mortification, I opened the door of the SUV and let Loki down onto the seat before getting in after him. Closing the door with a slam, I propped my chin on my fist and waited for Holbrook to hurry up so we could get the hell out of here. By the time he joined me in the car my anger had cooled, leaving me fueled only by my desire to find Johnson. Buckling my seatbelt, I resolutely ignored the fine wrinkles around his dazzling eyes that meant he was desperately trying not to laugh.

I slouched down in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say a word,” he replied, his voice warm with amusement.

“Hillbilly ass.”

“Furry drama queen.”

Damn him.

I couldn’t help smiling at the mental picture his words produced, and regardless of my sour mood, I chuckled as I envisioned the wolf trotting down the street with a sparkly tiara perched on her head.

“YOU HUNGRY?” HOLBROOK asked, startling me out of my thoughts.

I’d been thinking about my hallucination of Samson’s face in the window of the restaurant, and was trying to figure out if I was losing my mind. My nerves were stretched thin, like too little butter spread over bread. I wasn’t sure how many more surprises I could take, and was growing tired of the emotional roller coaster I was on.

Someone stop the ride. I want to get off.

Straightening in my seat, I rubbed my forehead to warm the skin that had been resting against the window as I watched the world zip by. “Sure.”

I glanced in the side mirror to watch our
Men in Black
watchdogs trailing behind us as Holbrook retrieved his phone from the holder on his belt. Their expressions remained as implacable as ever as he let them know that we were stopping for food, and I was glad when he told them to station themselves in the parking lot. I didn’t think I could have maintained an appetite with the Sunshine Twins breathing down my neck.

Turning off the highway, we pulled into a Denny’s lot, but it wasn’t until I slid down out of the car that my stomach rumbled with hunger. With stern instructions for him to stay put, I left Loki in the car and let the smell of hash browns, cheeseburgers, and French fries pull me inside.

The restaurant was fairly empty, with only a couple of booths and tables occupied by the last few stragglers from the lunch rush. A young hostess wearing far too much makeup showed us to a booth next to the large picture windows overlooking the parking lot.

A guy who barely looked old enough to drive, with a face covered in acne and shaggy hair falling in his eyes, ambled over after a few minutes to take our drink orders. Still irritated from our earlier trip to The Sage Brush, I decided to treat myself to what every cranky woman needs—a large chocolate milkshake topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a plump cherry. There was a chance it would come back to haunt me later, but at that moment I just wanted a giant vat of chocolate and sugar to soothe my bruised ego.

Drumming my fingers on the table as I waited for our server to return with our drinks, I looked around the restaurant, scoping out the rest of the people escaping the cold.

A pair of white haired women sipping coffee sat across the restaurant directly beneath one of the heat vents, bundled up in woolen cardigans and snow boots despite the hot air blowing down on them. The one furthest from me wore a pale lilac sweater with pearl buttons down the front, the sight of it sending a pang of longing deep into my middle. I couldn’t help thinking of my grandmother and her fondness for the color purple.

She’d owned at least a dozen sweaters, blouses, and skirts in varying shades of purple, and whenever my grandfather had earned her ire, he would leave a milk jug filled with fragrant lavender from the garden on the kitchen table. A wistful smile touched my lips as I remembered the strong and willful woman she had been.

Inevitably though, my thoughts turned maudlin when I thought of the empty place she had left in my life. Looking down at my hands on the table, I recalled how paper thin the skin on her hands had gotten in those last months when the cancer was ravaging her body. She hadn’t been particularly old, only in her early seventies, when cancer claimed her breasts, and eventually her life. Even after all these years, her loss was a barely healed wound, raw and easily reopened.

Under the guise of rubbing my face, I wiped away the tears clinging to my eyelashes, and pushing thoughts of my grandmother from my mind, continued to check out the other occupants of the restaurant.

A woman in her early thirties sat at a table a few feet away, feeding small pieces of fried chicken to a happily babbling toddler while her other child tugged at her sleeve, asking her to look at his latest masterpiece, a scribble of blue and red crayon on his paper placemat. Despite the bags under her eyes, she inspected his drawing and enthusiastically professed it to be the great work of art he presumed it was. Beaming from ear to ear the young Picasso went back to work, wielding a bright orange crayon in his small hand.