Sin's Dark Caress (20 page)

40

Hell Hath No Fury

C
langing pierced McManus's skull like a thousand hot pokers, and he kicked the almost empty bottle as he stumbled to his feet, sending the final dregs onto the floor. He looked around and realized he was still in Bianca's apartment. The bottle was what was left of the awful absinthe stuff he drank after she'd left him for bed. The urge to follow her had been so strong, he'd needed something to take the edge off.

“I'm coming,” he croaked to the white-hot noise coming from his cell, but the torturous instrument ignored him. Finally, he picked it up, cutting off the skull-splintering agony.

“What?” he growled.

“Thank God you're there,” a man said.

“Who's this?” he asked, trying to shake off the nausea and feeling like a dragon had shit in his mouth.

“Tones.”

His mind went blank. “Who?”

“You know, Antonio Geraldi. I work with Bianca and Oberon.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry man.” McManus picked up the bottle from the floor and drained the last mouthful. “What's up?”

“I can't get Oberon. I have no idea how to stop her, and she's not answering her cell,” Tones babbled with what seemed like a single breath.

McManus had trouble keeping up. “Stop who?”

“Bianca.” The near panic in Tones's voice finally snapped McManus awake.

“What happened?” he asked, gripping the phone so tight his fingers ached as he raced into her bedroom, to find it empty.

“I told her who owned the house destroyed yesterday and some sort of electrical feedback came through and fried my phone.” Tones's voice took on a sharper edge. “Oberon told me she has a familiar.”

“Fuck,” McManus said, scrubbing his hand across his face. “Who owns the fucking house?” But he already knew the answer.

“I traced it to a subsidiary company owned by the O'Shea Freight and Logistics conglomerate.”

His gut bottomed out, and it had nothing to do with the hangover. McManus hung up the phone, cutting off Tones, and patted his pockets. He slid his arms into his coat and snatched up his keys from the kitchen counter. For the first time, he realized the dragon was missing too. He had to stop Bianca before someone got killed.

Because if either of the O'Sheas harmed a hair on her head, he'd kill them himself.

T
he boom gate lay splintered on the ground and the guardhouse appeared empty. The place seemed oddly deserted as he drove over the broken boom and into the complex. Bianca's car sat in front of the admin building, the driver's door hanging open. He pulled his gun from his underarm holster as he climbed from his car.

Several bodies littered the ground, and he looked up at the broken window of the top floor. Blue light flickered and sparked from inside the building. He turned over the first body with his foot and an electric charge zapped up his leg. McManus squatted beside the fallen man in a black suit and laid two fingers at his throat. A pulse beat strongly beneath his fingertips, but the man was out cold.

The others were the same. How could they have fallen from that height and survived? The inside of the building was just as deserted as the exterior. The stairs were a safer bet at this point, and he started to climb, constantly looking up, keeping his gun cocked and ready.

McManus kicked the door at the top of the stairs and froze. The scene before him was pure chaos. Bianca stood in the middle of the room, her hair flying around her head, blue electric energy crackling around her body. The dragon sat perched on her shoulder, and she held her arm out toward Corey O'Shea, who was pinned against the wall with the same blue charge. His brother, Seamus, hung suspended horizontally in the air, his head slumped forward with blood dripping from a gash in his forehead.

Bianca and Kedrax turned to McManus as one, and his breath died in his throat. Both had identical glowing eyes that shifted like molten gold in a smelting pot yet were as cold as ice.

“Stay back, McManus,” she said in a flat tone, and turned to look up at the drug lord, her head tilting to the side. “He's going to tell me where they are.”

O'Shea's composure seemed to be holding—only just. “I've got no idea who or what she's talking about.”

One of his men burst through a door, and Bianca flung her free hand out, engulfing the would-be assailant in a ball of smoky blue energy, flinging him out the nearest broken window.

McManus took a step toward them.

She turned those golden eyes back on him. “Unless you want the same treatment, I'd stay where you are.”

He slid his gun back into his holster and held out his hands as he took a step back.

“You lied to me,” she said to O'Shea. “Now tell me . . . where are they?”

“Again . . .” O'Shea raised an eyebrow. “ . . . who are
they
?”

“You own the house on Maple Street?” McManus asked.

O'Shea frowned. “I don't know, it's possible. We own lots of property.”

“The one that burnt down yesterday,” McManus said.

O'Shea's eyes widened. “Yes, I know the one, it was on the news. A girl died in the fire.”

Bianca squeezed her hand, and the crackling blue energy increased. “So where are the babies that were in that house?”

“I don't know,” the drug lord said. “But if you let me go, I'll find someone to look into it.”

“Listen to him,” Chancellor Rudolf said from the corner. “He's not the one you're looking for.”

Bianca's features creased in confusion. “But—he owned the house.”

“What are you doing here, old man,” McManus asked.
Something funny is going on.

“I came to see Corey and his brother about a personal matter. Trust me, they're not the ones you want,” the old man said, walking toward her.

“They know who we are,” Corey managed to croak.

“If you know,” Rudolf said to Bianca, “then know they definitely would
not
benefit from the Dark Brethren coming back into the world, seeing they were the first to turn against them.”

McManus's head swam and his vision blurred. His hand shook as he tugged his sweat-soaked shirt away from his skin. He had been so focused on Bianca he'd missed the signs. What he'd mistaken for just a hangover was actually a Neon Tears comedown.

He stumbled and fell to one knee as his sight dimmed even further to a dark fogginess.

“McManus?” Bianca called. For the first time since he'd walked in, her voice carried a hint of emotion. Then she turned back to the suspended drug lord. “I'll heal him myself when I'm done with you.”

“No you won't,” he heard O'Shea say. “He's going into Neon blindness and you can't heal that with magic. You have no idea what the drug is.”

“Bianca,” Rudolf pleaded, “please listen to me. You have to let the O'Shea brothers go.”

“The withdrawal is happening fast,” O'Shea replied, sure and confident. “His vision is going, the sweats will turn to tremors, and if not treated he'll lose his sight, which could become permanent due to his prolonged use. You can't help him with magic, but I can.”

“Shut up,” Bianca said, but the force had gone out of her words. “This is just some kind of trick.”

McManus stumbled forward.

“Watch out,” she yelled.

He turned just as Rudolf threw a burning lighter at him and his clothing burst into flames.

41

Baptism of Fire

T
he fire broke Bianca's concentration, and the spell crumbled. The elder O'Shea landed lightly on his feet, strode purposefully across the room to yank the fire extinguisher off the wall and turned it on McManus, quelling the flames.

When the fire was out, McManus lay shivering on the floor covered in retardant foam—his clothes burnt and tattered. Corey O'Shea snagged up an expensive looking rug and covered him.

“Why would you do that?” Bianca asked Rudolf.

“I knew it wouldn't harm him,” he replied.

“It was like he was covered in accelerant,” O'Shea said. “So I guess this proves you're right, old man. I just wish you could've done it without ruining my carpet.”

“What is he?” she asked.

“Let's get this all sorted out first and I'll tell you all about it,” Rudolf said.

Corey moved to his brother and lifted his unconscious head. Bianca had given him that gash in self-defense but still felt the guilt squeeze her heart as the wound wept. Kedrax jumped from her shoulder and ran to McManus's prone form.

“Help McManus first,” she said to O'Shea. “Then I'll heal your brother.”

“Stop talking about me like I'm not here,” McManus croaked from the floor.

“Go find
her
and ask her to come,” Corey said to one of his men who nursed an injured arm.

The man gathered himself off the floor and made a quick exit out the door. Bianca sat down and pulled McManus's head into her lap. He trembled and she reached for his hand, squeezing it. He smiled a shaky little smile and squeezed back, his milky white pupil-less eyes staring into nothingness. Kedrax sat beside her with one paw on her thigh; if she wasn't mistaken, the little dragon was just as concerned about the detective as she was.

“He's a long-term user,” Corey said in a matter-of-fact voice. “The eyes only cloud over this badly from heavy use.”

“I said, stop talking about me like I wasn't here,” McManus said, but she could hear the shame in his tone.

The drug lord lifted the edge of the rug to check McManus's injuries. He looked up at Rudolf and took a knife from his pocket to cut away some of the ruined clothing. “Nothing. Not a mark on him.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, O'Shea,” McManus croaked.

“Oh, Detective, I'm far from disappointed,” O'Shea said. “Trust me. Anyway, I knew you were too stubborn to die.”

The drug lord's eyes flicked to his brother, fear and concern flaring for the briefest of seconds. Bianca could see the long-haired assassin was Corey O'Shea's Achilles' heel.

“Kedrax,” she called, and rose to feet.

The dragon climbed onto her shoulder as she dropped to Seamus's side and reached out. The energy entered her and she wove it into a healing spell slightly different from the one she used on McManus. His eyes opened and in a flash he flowed to his feet, drawing a large handgun from inside the long black coat and pointing it to her head.

The cold steel of the gun muzzle pressed against her left temple and her heart beat wildly.

Corey placed a hand on his brother's gun arm. “Put it away, Shiz.”

It seemed Seamus hadn't heard, but then his cold killer's eyes left her and he glanced at his brother. He said nothing. He didn't need to. She could tell exactly what he thought about her. Corey whispered something in his ear. Seamus's eyes flicked back to her as he lowered his gun. The drug lord didn't
have
to save her. So why had he
?

Corey took out his cell phone and dialed. “Get me the detail on that house in Maple Street . . . Yes the one that burnt down . . . I need to know to who leased it and I need to know five minutes ago.”

He hung up just as two men entered the room. One carried a small pet carrier that he set down on the nearby coffee table before opening its door. A faerie stepped out and sat down in a huff, her arms and legs crossed, the tiny bottom lip poked out sullenly. Corey spoke to it in the strange language he'd used the other night. The creature saw McManus lying on the floor and let loose a stream of incomprehensible babble, shaking her head and gesturing wildly.

“Enough, Li-anis, do as I say,” he ordered, and addressed her in more of the same strange tongue.

Bianca realized that not only was it one of the faeries from the other night, but was the one who started the fight. The female faerie came to her feet, and stubbornly shook her head. Bianca had no idea what such a tiny thing could do to save McManus.

“Mistress Li-anis,” she said, not having a clue what she was doing, but she had to at least try. “Please help us if you can.”

The faerie stopped mid-babble and turned, tilting her head with a quizzical frown. Bianca bowed. She'd dealt with enough witch politics to see when someone's ego needed stroking. Corey smiled and nodded encouragement. The faerie puffed up and crossed her arms again. Even if she didn't speak English, she clearly understood it. The faerie spoke to Corey. He replied quickly in the same language.

Li-anis stared at her a moment, then turned to Corey and nodded, fluttering her wings. He walked over to the cupboard by the wall and pulled out a small vial with an eyedropper lid, similar to the one McManus always carried.

He put it down on the table beside her and removed the stopper. She perched on top of the vial and urinated a few drops of bright neon blue into the vial.

“Oh my . . .” Bianca whispered.

How could she ever tell him where his drug of choice came from?

“What?” McManus asked, worried.

Kedrax jumped onto the table beside the faerie, crouched with head down and tail flicking. As the dragon pounced, the tiny female took flight and landed on Corey O'Shea's shoulder.

“Hey,” O'Shea said to Kedrax. “Don't even think about it.”

O'Shea sucked liquid into the eyedropper and placed a drop into each of McManus's eyes. The detective's face screwed up in pain. Bianca grabbed his hand and squeezed, letting him know she was here. He held on tight. Brilliant incandescent azure replaced the milky whiteness. The color slowly dissipated to reveal his normal blue eyes. He blinked a few times, looked up at her and smiled.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Um . . . Mistress Li-anis here helped . . .” She pointed to the faerie on Corey's shoulder.

He pulled himself onto his elbow. “How?”

O'Shea grinned widely. “She pissed in your eye.”

“No really.” He turned to Bianca.

She glanced down and picked at her fingernail, trying to keep her smile from bursting into a laugh.

“He's fucking kidding, right?” McManus took her hand, drawing her eyes to his. “Right?”

Bianca opened her mouth, but still she had no words. She looked away before she broke down into giggles.

“Neon Tears, in its purest form, is a by-product of the Fae,” O'Shea explained. “Faerie sight, they called it, or the
kiss
of the Fae.” The drug lord reached his hand out to Li-anis. She climbed on and he placed her on the table beside the pet carrier. “Thank you, my sweet lady, there'll be an extra treat tonight for you and your people.”

“Kitten?” she asked in perfect English, her tiny wings fluttering in anticipation.

“We'll see,” Corey replied.

The faerie made a strange little excited noise and stepped into the pet carrier.

Bianca smiled. “So, they like kittens?”

“Oh yes,” Corey said. “It's their favorite meat.”

A sick feeling settled in her stomach. “No!”

“What? You didn't think they played with them, did you? Actually, now that I come to think of it, they do, but it's rather disturbing to watch.”

McManus rose unsteadily to his feet. Although more than a little singed around the edges, with clothes almost completely destroyed, he didn't seem all that worse for wear.

O'Shea sat behind his desk and looked around, surveying his ruined office. She'd made quite a mess. Papers were strewn over the floor, paintings hung crooked on the walls or had fallen altogether, and furniture was overturned.

“I think it's time we talked,” Rudolf said.

“About why you tried burn me to death, old man?” McManus growled. “And what the hell are you doing here in the first place?”

“In answer to you second question first . . .” Rudolf straightened his shoulders. “I came here to talk to Mr. O'Shea about what Marcus Hilden promised him in return for his support. And to the first, I knew you wouldn't burn.”

“McManus, why don't you go with Michael and clean up a little,” O'Shea said. “You look like shit.”

The detective looked down at his ruined suit, and his eyes appeared even bluer with his soot-blackened face. “Okay, but I'll be right back.” The head of security, still nursing his broken wrist in a sling, led the detective from the room.

“Dr. Sin, please take a seat.” O'Shea gestured to one of the fat comfortable chairs still upright.

Kedrax crawled into her lap and curled up. Almost without thinking, she stroked him. He closed his eyes and purred like a cat. For the first time since Lucinda's death, she felt calm.

Luce!

Then the grief landed on her, and tears that had been building behind her eyes threatened to erupt.
No here, please, not here.

“You know,” Corey O'Shea said, “I could sense you were different, but I had no idea how different.” He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “It's been a long time since I've seen a dragon, even one that small.”

Kedrax's head rose from his paws and glanced up at her and then to the man sitting behind the desk.

“You can see him?” she asked.

“Of course. I'm Unari.”

The ringing phone on his desk cut off any further conversation. He listened for a moment and then said, “Interesting,” before hanging up.

McManus came back wearing a borrowed suit. It stretched tight across his broad shoulders and was a little snug over his thighs. His face was clean except for one charcoal smudge near his left ear.

“I know who leased the property,” O'Shea said.

She spun to look at the drug lord, coming out of her seat. “Who?”

He sat there looking at them for a moment longer, then shook his head. “Do either of you know how miraculous you both are?”

“Cut the shit and tell us who rented the fucking house,” McManus said, his old menace returning with full force.

“You shouldn't be here, either of you,” O'Shea continued, ignoring him. “You're relics of a long forgotten past.”

“We can go into that in a minute, Corey,” Rudolf said. “I'm quite interested in the answer myself.”

Bianca held her breath. Something inside her shivered with anticipation, not only because of what he knew about the house, but also of what he knew about them.

He looked at the old man and nodded. “The Hilden Group has held the lease for the past three years.”

The air rushed out her lungs as if she'd been sucker punched. “No, that can't be right.” But it made sense. They had seen two close relatives of Tiffany Hilden at the address.

“Come on,” McManus said, taking her arm and pulling her to her feet. “Let's go and talk to the Domina.”

“We can't just barge in—”

“Did you know the last dragon witch died over five thousand years ago?” Corey O'Shea said before they reached the door. “My grandfather used to tell me stories about them. I never thought I'd meet one myself. But to find one with a warrior of the dragon elite, well that was a real surprise.”

McManus frowned. “What the hell are you babbling about, O'Shea?”

“I think it's probably best to just show you,” Rudolf said. “Lord Sagen,” he called aloud.