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Authors: Sharon Ashwood

Unchained, the Dark Forgotten (2010) (13 page)

BOOK: Unchained, the Dark Forgotten (2010)
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“So we’re dealing with a bunny- releasing, hit-man-hiring thief?”
“Perhaps. I am only guessing that there is a connection. Miru-kai hinted that there is a collector from your world involved. If there is such a collector, he hired the thief. The time line, such as I can determine, is that a thief—most likely a demon—escaped and committed his burglary several days before the incident with the phouka and the assassin.”
This was getting complicated. “What was stolen?”
Reynard’s face was carefully neutral, but panic was leaking around the edges of that perfect blankness. “It is difficult to explain, but I’ll try.”
Ashe listened, her slayer senses going on high alert as Reynard spoke.
What the hell is he saying?
But she could hear the strain in his voice. That more than anything told her his crazy story was real.
She sat speechless after he finished, not able to find anything helpful to say.
What dumb-ass idea ever made them put their souls in jars?
So she came out with the first thing that wasn’t an outright insult. “If your soul—or whatever—is out here somewhere in my world, that means you’re not tied to the Castle anymore, right?”
“Not exactly. Ordinary prisoners can leave the Castle and carry on with their lives, free of its magic. Guardsmen cannot. First, the magic that allows our bodies to survive separated from our life essence begins to dissipate once we’ve left that dimension. Second, we cannot stray too far from the vessel that contains our life essence. If we do, we start to fade.” He said it coldly, softening nothing.
“Fade?”
“Die. The bottom line, as they say, is that I have to find my urn and return to the Castle as soon as possible.”
Die
. The word clutched, cold and hard, in her gut. She forced her dismay down, covering it with gruffness. “How long have you got?”
Reynard gave a slight shrug, his face a complete mask. “I don’t know. I can feel the urn’s absence. It’s like something you’re trying to recall, but can’t. A nagging sensation. But that’s all.” He made a weary gesture. “I assume it will grow worse with time. Being outside the Castle helps. At least I’m in the same realm as my soul.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Goddess, Ashe, that was lame
. “What can I do?”
“I was hoping you would offer your aid,” he said tentatively, finally letting his storm gray eyes meet hers.
It was suddenly hard to breathe.
“You helped before,” he said quietly. “When I was hurt.”
A girl could drown in those eyes.
“Yeah.” She ducked her head, not wanting to think about him dying a lingering death because some maniac had taken his urn. A man’s urn should stay in his Castle. Or whatever. A sick sensation, part anger, part helplessness, made her momentarily dizzy.
“Since I found out about the theft, I checked the vault where the guardsmen’s souls are kept. I examined every vessel. Mine is not there. Mac is questioning the Castle residents thoroughly.”
Ashe swallowed hard. “So now you have to comb through the whole of my world looking for your thief?”
He spread his hands. “I don’t know this world anymore. I’m not helpless, but I don’t know where to start. I am hoping you can guide me.”
“Why not Mac?”
“Besides being an overlarge fire demon with a full-body tattoo and therefore highly conspicuous, he has a prison dimension to run. His contacts in the human police department are checking their contacts, but this is really a supernatural crime. I would benefit more from the advice of someone familiar with the nonhuman world.”
“Plus,” added Ashe, “this sounds like there was someone on the inside. Mac needs to find out who in the Castle set this up.”
“And what they hoped to gain.” His eyes went hard with anger, giving them a gunmetal cast.
Just then Gina Chen, the other clerk on shift, stuck her head in the door. “Hey, Ashe, you here? What’s with the cardboard people?”
The young woman, all sleek black hair and almond eyes, caught sight of Reynard. “Oh, hi.” She smiled slowly, like a toddler spying a ginormous ice-cream cone. “I don’t think I’ve met you before.”
Ashe nearly growled. All of a sudden Gina was far too young and exotically pretty. Reynard was out of his element and vulnerable to the wiles of clever circulation clerks.
“I’ll be right out,” she said. At least the spike of hostility had put her back in charge of her emotions.
“Neat outfit,” Gina persisted.
“He’s in a play,” Ashe snapped. “Early rehearsals.”
“An actor. Cool.”
Reynard was watching the two women cautiously, looking from one to the other as if he were following a tennis match—or perhaps he was a cat choosing between two birds. His expression wasn’t entirely innocent.
“I’ll be out to help with the returns in a minute,” Ashe grumped.
Finally taking the hint, Gina huffed and went back to the desk.
Ashe turned to Reynard. “I have to work. I have to think about what you’ve said.”
Images flitted through her head. Eden. The vampire in the gardens turning to dust. The piles of books waiting to be checked in. Eden. Bannerman’s waterfall of slime. Kneeling beside Reynard in the Castle, watching him bleed. Eden. There was too much crowding in on her.
Reynard frowned, seeming to sense her tension. He took her hand lightly, just holding it. Drawing her in with the touch of his warm fingers. “Please take the time you need.”
“I’ve got a lot going on right now.” She should send Reynard packing. She didn’t need his problems on top of her own—too many demands made it easy to drop the ball. She couldn’t afford that. Not with assassins and lawyers on her case.
Just standing in Reynard’s presence, she felt as if she’d run a marathon. There was a sudden frisson of fear, desire, and schoolgirl nerves.
He let her go, the tips of his fingers sliding along her palm. “I’ll take whatever advice you can offer.”
Her mouth went dry. Well, at least she wasn’t salivating.
Just pick a problem, Ashe; pick something and fix it
. “You need new clothes. You stand out too much dressed like that.”
He looked affronted. “As I told Mac, this is my uniform.”
So Mac had already lost this argument. Too bad. “You’re going to attract attention. You came to me for advice; I’m giving it to you.”
He frowned, looking very Mr. Darcy.
“Don’t be stubborn.” Ashe used her mom voice.
She watched him back down. That was a lot of pride to swallow, but he did it. Good for him.
Grabbing control made her feel better. “Look. There’s a store in the mall called Workrite. Ask for Leslie and say I sent you for some casual clothes. Enough for a couple of days. Tell her I’ll come by later and take care of the bill.”
He shied from that. “I can’t . . .”
“You can, and Leslie will be discreet.” She was also very gay, which kept things simple in Ashe’s mind. Plus, she’d give Ashe a discount. “It’s the least I can do.”
It was a tiny thing to do. Not enough by any standard, but at least it was concrete and immediate. Best of all, sending him on an errand bought her time to think.
Reynard met her gaze, appeared to consider a moment, and nodded his agreement. “I shall repay you. My word of honor.”
All very proper, gentlemanly. But with a shock that hit low in her body, she saw her own mix of eagerness and reluctance in those storm-cloud eyes. A faint upturn to the killer lips. There was that bad boy again, wondering if he was welcome.
Ashe stood, needing distance. “Let me know how it goes. Stop back here later.”
He rose, standing so close in the tiny staff room, she could feel the male warmth of him. “I am at your disposal,” he said mildly.
In my dreams.
Chapter 7
L
ate afternoon only brought new complexities.
Ashe had spent most of the previous day—when not dealing with lawyers or children—making phone calls and lurking in her favorite hangouts swapping gossip. If there were hit vampires and slime demons afoot, surely somebody must have noticed.
Of course, the only problem with calling people and asking for favors was that they might call back. Especially when they were your sister, a new mom, part-time university student, and primary agent of the family ghostbusting business.
“Ashe, I’m begging you,” Holly said, sounding like death warmed over and spread on toast. “My magic is still all messed up from baby hormones. I’ve got a paper due. I haven’t slept for days. Alessandro’s great about doing his daddy bit, but he’s got to work, too, and he’s not much use in the daytime.”
Ashe peeked around the staff room doorway, checking the lineup at the front counter. It was getting close to closing time, and the late rush was in full swing. Gina was handling it okay, but it wasn’t a good time to be on the phone. Cloying sweetness radiated from the crumpled muffin bag on the lunch table, making her feel a little ill.
She’d expected Reynard back from Workrite long before now. Where was he?
Ashe suddenly realized her mind had wandered and Holly was waiting for a reply.
Just say no to more crises
. “I’m sorry, Hol, I really am. I have to see my in- laws’ lawyer tomorrow afternoon, and it was really tough to get a Saturday appointment. Besides, I’m trying to prove I’m a fit mother, and I can’t do that covered in ectoplasm.”
“It’s only a
little
ghost. In and out. I promise. An hour tops. I’ll load you up with everything you need. All you have to do is check it out and set up charms if they’re needed.”
Holly and their grandmother had come up with some prefab charms that even Ashe’s limited magic could activate. Kind of like witch grenades. “Holly, I’ve got so much going on. . . .”
An honest answer, but it still swamped her with guilt.
“Ashe . . .”
She could hear the strain in Holly’s voice. She remembered that new- mom state of mind, when Nirvana was a full night’s sleep and a drool-free outfit.
Oh, crap.
“Is it in town?” Ashe asked, knowing she was helplessly sliding into Holly’s clutches. Damn that guilt, anyway.
Paper rustled on the other end of the line. “On Fort and Main, a store called the Book Burrow. New owner. Says he has an attic haunting.”
Ashe glanced at her watch, at the pile of work she had left to do before she went home.
Just say no. Just say no.
“Okay, I’ll take a look.”
Holly let loose a gusty sigh. “Blessings on you. Gotta go: Robin’s starting to fuss.”
“ ’Kay, bye.” Ashe clicked her cell phone shut, feeling glum.
How did this get to be my life?
She was a slayer— hot, blond, lean and mean. She should be traveling the world, leaving a trail of vamp-kebabs in her wake.
Ashe took a deep breath.
Suck it up
. Holly needed one favor. If Ashe didn’t want to be a lone wolf anymore, she could learn to juggle appointments. That was the life of a single mom, a sister, the family member. She loved her family, especially Holly. Connection meant complication, but it was worth it.
I just wish I could clone myself.
Her conversation with Reynard came back in a rush. He was today’s other waif in need.
Where is he?
He was far too good-looking to leave unattended in a public place. The mall was packed with unscrupulous women.
What was she going to do about him? Maybe she could find someone else to help him out? But all the competent folks she knew were either monsters—who hated the guards—or slayers, who couldn’t be trusted in a monster-friendly place like Fairview. Delegating could result in a bloodbath.
Gah!
She pulled her datebook out of her purse and jotted down the time of the ghostbusting appointment. Ghost at two thirty, lawyer at four. That shouldn’t be so bad.
She stuck the book in her purse. Time to get back to work. Stacks of books rose from the work counter like stalagmites, waiting to go into plastic bins marked,
Hold
. They would get picked up for shipment to other branches in about fifteen minutes. Ashe grabbed a fat novel, determined to finish the job on time. If the City of Fairview was paying her to sling books, sling books she would.
Crime and Punishment
dropped with a thud, the empty bin echoing like a tomb. The Russian master was followed by a children’s reader, a Polynesian cookbook, and a decades-old but still popular
The Apocalypse and You
.
Apocalypse
bounced on the rim of the bin, landing on the floor with a sad flop.
Ashe walked over to pick the book up. She could hear patrons shuffling at the front counter and the crinkle of laminated bindings as covers opened and closed. Bar-code readers beeped; due-date slips chugged out of the printer. Ashe glanced through the doorway. Gina’s long dark hair swung as she swiped books over the demagnetizer to disarm the security chips hidden in their bindings.
Ashe inspected
Apocalypse.
She’d bent the cover.
Damn
.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re dead,” Gina snapped at someone.
With an alarmed jerk, Ashe raised her head.
And I thought I was queen of snarky customer service
.
A male vampire hovered before the desk like an evil intention.
He’s up early
, Ashe thought. He was pulling off sunglasses and tucking them in the pocket of his hooded coat—the hood no doubt how he had made it through the fading afternoon light. It was cloudy outside, but the sun wouldn’t properly set for at least another hour. He pushed back the hood and looked around, as if he expected to see someone.
The guy was fresh from Vampire Central Casting: overlong hair brushed back from his forehead, leather coat, high cheekbones, and broody lips. Cute, but Ashe tensed. Just because there were vamps who tried to get along with the rest of the world, she wasn’t rolling out the red carpet for every bloodsucker who flapped by. Still, he was a patron.
BOOK: Unchained, the Dark Forgotten (2010)
8.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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