The Cursed (League of the Black Swan) (9 page)

“I never accused you of being stupid,” he protested, wondering how and when the conversation had gone to hell in a hand-carved basket. “I’m not good at talking to women when they’re awake.”

She raised her eyebrows, and he mentally replayed what he’d just said.

Oh, shit.

“That’s not what I meant. We need to—I’m not—oh, hell. I need coffee, and we need to go.” He threw up his hands and stalked out of the room. This was why he was better off alone, no matter how good Rio looked in his shirt.

Luke was a wizard and a warrior. Not—
ever
—a ladies’ man, and he was pretty sure that if Rio hadn’t figured that out a long time ago, he was cluing her in really well right now. His mood tanked in a split second, and he pushed everything out of his mind but the mission at hand.

Dalriata had picked the wrong child, the wrong town, and the wrong wizard.

Rio waited at least five seconds after Luke stormed out before she let the laugh she’d been holding in escape. He wasn’t good at talking to women when they were awake. Oh, boy. Luke might be scary and powerful and dangerous, but
smooth
he was not. Oddly enough, the realization lifted her spirits in spite of the fact she was on her way to confront the man who’d sent mythological monsters after her only the night before.

She took a deep breath and thought brave thoughts. After all, she had a thing or two to say to Mr. Dalriata that would blister his ears. Pictish king or not, he was in trouble. There were
laws
.

She involuntarily glanced after Luke. There were laws, yes, but without a sheriff, the outlaws ran Bordertown.

“I’ll just have to find a cowboy hat,” she told the empty room.

“Do you want coffee or not?” Luke called out, sounding surly.

She smiled, almost in spite of herself. Yeah. He was smooth.

“Yes, if you have a to-go cup. Let’s go get that little girl,” she said, heading down the hallway toward him.

When she reached the kitchen, he was standing by the door to his office, holding two travel mugs.

“Way ahead of you,” he said grimly.

“If he has hurt one hair on that child’s head—”

“If he took any hair, he plans to use it for a spell or ritual,” Luke interrupted, a feral cast to his stark features. “I’ve never killed a wannabe king before, but I’m willing to try new things.”

Out on the street, the cold autumn morning threatened rain. Luke gestured to a ratty old Jeep that was parked on the street next to a
RESERVED
sign that leaned drunkenly to the left, as if ashamed of the graffiti that adorned it. Every time she’d delivered a package on Pendulum Street, she’d amused herself by reading the new graffiti on Luke’s parking sign. Apparently the taggers weren’t afraid of getting turned into toads.

“‘
Wizards do it with their wands
’?” Rio drawled. “Really, they can’t come up with anything more original?”

“It’s better than ‘
wizard pendulums hang low
,’ which is what they wrote the last time,” he muttered, heading to the driver’s-side door.

The Jeep wasn’t locked, which surprised her until she considered its ancient state and who owned it. Probably not many who would dare to steal Luke’s car.

“To get to West Hyde, it’s faster if you turn right on Poe and then take a left on Rivendell.”

He shot her a look, and her face warmed up.

“Sorry. Curse of the bike messenger.”

He put his cup in the holder and pulled out, his windshield wipers making a dragging sound as they worked. Rio took a long sip of her own coffee.

“It’s just black. I don’t even have cream or sugar, I don’t think,” Luke offered, sounding slightly apologetic.

“It’s fine. Thanks for making it.”

After that, they drove in silence to Brock’s address, while Rio’s thoughts spiraled further and further downward. What kind of man hired Grendels to kidnap bike messengers? Grendels with poisonous claws? In order to keep them in line, what kind of monster must Dalriata be? She figured there was no way he was the man she’d seen take the child because kingpins never did their own dirty work. So who was that guy? And yet, in spite of all the unanswered and unanswerable questions, here she was, driving to meet him, with an unpredictable wizard at her side.

“Watch out for that tree,” she whispered, grinning, as Luke pulled into the office building parking lot.

“What?” Luke turned to face her, raising one dark eyebrow.

“Nothing. I do movie lines when I get nervous,” she said, feeling her face heat up again, which annoyed the crap out of her. She was perpetually blushing around this man. “It’s a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it some time.”

She stared at him, caught in his gaze for just a beat longer than she should have been, then nodded grimly and opened her car door. “If I’m still alive to tell it after this.”

The doorman was a block of a man. His head was oddly formed, making him look like a goat had gotten confused and tried to turn into a donkey. He was shaped like a thick barrel, easily six feet tall, not counting the silver tufts on the top of his deep brown, furred ears.

“Leave,” Donkey Man said.

Luke laughed. “Really? Are you going to be an ass about this?”

Rio rolled her eyes. “You had to go there? Like he hasn’t heard that before?”

“Heard what?” Donkey Man rumbled, looking confused, if that was what the bushy eyebrows drawn low over too-large eyes meant.

“I’d be happy to teach you a lesson in manners, if you don’t get the hell out of my way,” Luke said, smiling almost happily, as if he’d been hoping for a fight.

Testosterone. Stupid men and testosterone.

“We don’t have time for this,” Rio said, fighting hard to ignore her pounding heartbeat and the part of her that wanted to run like a scared human caught in a demon brawl.

She stepped closer to Donkey Man and held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Rio Stephanopoulos, and I’m pleased to meet you. Mr. Dalriata, whom I’m guessing is your boss, invited us here. Will you please check with him?”

The doorman gaped at her like she’d grown an extra body part. Which, she supposed, she kind of had. A backbone. Or at least more of one than she’d thought she possessed when she’d woken up yesterday morning.

Luke started to snarl something next to her, but the doorman carefully held out one huge, gnarled hand to Rio and gently touched her fingers.

“I am Abernathy,” he rumbled. “I am pleased to meet you. Wait here.”

He moved away from them and motioned to someone inside the glass revolving doors, and Rio saw the shadowy figure lift a hand, presumably carrying a phone, to its head.

Rio turned to Luke, proud that her knees weren’t shaking. “You see? Sometimes it just takes a little bit of politeness.”

Luke shook his head, looking stunned. “I’d never have believed it. A mountain troll. You just exchanged pleasantries with a mountain troll. Also, Stephanopoulos?”

She shrugged. “I like
Good Morning America
.”

“You do realize that Bordertown is a small place, right? Relatively speaking? You’re not fooling anybody with all of these aliases.” He folded his arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels, just an ordinary wizard casually standing around on the sidewalk.

“You do realize you’re not fooling anybody when you try to act harmless, right?” she shot back at him.

Luke laughed, and she had the feeling she’d surprised it out of him. She also had the feeling that he wasn’t surprised by much, so she was oddly pleased with the small victory.

Abernathy inclined his head with some dignity. “Mr. Dalriata will see you now.”

“Here we go,” Luke said, taking her hand as if he did it every day of the week.

She determinedly ignored the spark that shot between them. Static electricity; that must be it. She couldn’t possibly be feeling a spark of attraction to the
wizard
, in front of the
mountain troll
, on the way to meet the
Pict king
, in order to rescue the niece of a
High Court Fae
.

Watch out for that tree.

Luke led the way to the elevator, and they silently listened to Muzak all the way to the top floor. He’d let go of her hand, and she found herself missing his touch. Her fingers tingled where they’d been in contact with his.

She had to think about something else.
Anything
else.

“Seems wrong, doesn’t it?” Rio asked, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets and affecting a nonchalant pose, when she felt anything but.

“What?”

“Listening to Barry Manilow on the way to the evil villain’s lair. Seems like it should be AC/DC or a soundtrack of evil cackling, maybe.” She started humming “Copacabana” and watched Luke try not to grin.

“I think lairs are underground, right? Can there even be penthouse lairs?” He shot her a speculative look and then shook his head. “Doesn’t anything scare you?”

She caught her breath, wondering at, and then giving in to, the impulse to tell him the truth. Only him. “Are you kidding?
Everything
scares me. I’m a human with a single, not very useful talent living in a world where even the lesser of the predators could take me out with one bite. But sometimes they don’t notice that if my attitude is bigger than I am.”

His blue eyes glowed a hot blue for a moment, and then he reached out his hand as if to touch her arm, but the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. Luke’s hand dropped to his side, and he stepped out first and scanned the area before moving forward so Rio could enter the lobby.

It was huge, was her first thought. Rio’s entire apartment could have fit into the lobby, with room to spare. A gleaming silver reception desk dominated the space, and the words
DALRIATA INDUSTRIES
were carved out of the front of the desk in a three-dimensional effect. The same words shouted at them in three-foot-tall letters from the wall behind the desk.

Luke snorted. “Maybe he’s afraid he’ll forget the name of his company?”

“Strange there are no guards here,” Rio murmured.

“Don’t underestimate Blondie,” Luke said. “Who knows what she’s packing?”

The blonde at the reception desk was as icy as her surroundings. Platinum-blond hair, pale white skin, gray eyes, and a white business suit with a white silk blouse beneath it turned the woman into a wraith. She looked unreal, as if some denizen of the underworld had conjured a colorless imitation of what a real employee might look like. The thick silver links twisted into a necklace that was digging into her slender neck hinted at something darker than
employee
. Possession, maybe.

Rio lightly scanned the woman’s thoughts and fought the roil of nausea that swarmed up from her empty stomach. Obsession. Submission. A fawning, quivering desire to please someone.

Three guesses who that someone was.

“He’s expecting you,” the woman said to Luke.

She never once even glanced at Rio, which made sense. It was always wiser to keep your eyes on the biggest predator in the room.

The door to the office behind and to the right of the reception desk swung silently open, and an airy office space that dwarfed the reception lobby came into view. Rio fought the urge to clutch Luke’s arm for support.