Adelaide Upset (30 page)

That was more or less an invitation to ask
more, so I didn’t feel bad prying. “What happened?”

“The police came by,” he said, circling
around the desk for the clipboard. “They’ve been questioning her on
and off because my dad didn’t leave us, we just found out he was
murdered.”

“
That’s awful, Stephen,
I’m sorry.” I winced at the words, knowing they’d sounded
rehearsed. They were. I paused, leaning sideways to get closer, to
gauge his emotions. “You don’t seem...”

“Upset?” he asked casually, flicking through
the list of rooms. “I was... but I, I didn’t really know him. My
mom though, she’s taking it hard.”

He was telling the truth.
I mean, sure, he was still a bit disturbed, but his emotions
weren’t rotting. Sometimes when people didn’t grieve properly they
walked around with chronic guilt, or maybe anger. It wasn’t
healthy, and it felt subtle and insidious.

“Is there going to be a funeral?” I hadn’t
meant to ask, but, well, I really wanted to know. “I mean, since
you have to bury the... remains.”

Stephen snapped the pages
shut. “I never mentioned a body,” he said. His lanky frame was no
longer loose, but stiff, his walk robotic as he made for the office
door. “You know,” he said, glancing back at me. “I knew you had
something to do with it. The second I heard, I knew.”

This time the door was
shut on me, Stephen closing me off. He was angry, I’d felt the snap
of it, little sparks fizzling out as he moved away.

I was relieved to see him
go, especially relieved that he hadn’t pushed for answers. I
wouldn’t tell him anything, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. After
I was plucked out of that well my entire family migrated to the
hospital, waiting for me to get better. They were supportive... for
a while. But I didn’t get better, I got strange. They didn’t
understand, not even when I finally realized what was happening and
tried to explain it. There was a herd of Graves, brothers, sisters,
uncles, aunts and cousins, but not a single one believed that I was
an empath. If my closest relatives thought I was a lunatic, how was
I going to get my friends to believe me? It was a miracle I’d
confided in Lucas, and go figure, we broke up right
after.

So no, even if Stephen
suspected me, I wouldn’t tell him anything. He might grow to hate
me for it, and all the secrets he knew I kept, but that was a risk
I was willing to take.

I half expected Smith to
waft into the office and punish me with his scolding emotions,
heavy disapproval thick in the air. He was protective of his son,
disliking my cold behavior at times. Just then I would have
welcomed his silent reproach, but he never came.

Wanting to see Lucas
again, I contrived fantastical scenarios to accommodate this
desire. He broke an arm, no, a leg, and needed my assistance
bathing and changing... that sort of thing. Little did I know that
I was about to get my wish.

I had finished my shift,
driven home, and was pulling into the driveway, just seconds away
from seeing Lucas. Only it would be under the worst of
circumstances.

I flipped on the living
room lights, finding the couch cushions in disarray and a half
finished puzzle on the coffee table, everything as I’d left it.
Halfway down the hall, on my way to the kitchen, I stopped dead in
my tracks. The fine hair on the back of neck came alive, tingling
as my awareness went on hyper-alert. Something was off, no,
something was wrong. Anticipation was high, expectation in the air,
and not mine. I was feeling someone else, and they were in my
house.

Slowly, I crept back down
the hall, my eyes flipping between the dark kitchen in front of me
and the lit living room at my rear. I wasn’t alone, but the house
felt empty. Someone was hiding, concealing themselves. You didn’t
do that without a reason, and that reason didn’t bode well for my
health.

The second I got to the
living room I ran for the front door, I heard crashing down the
stairs, someone storming after me. I ran around the couch, avoiding
the stairwell, and reached for the handle. It was in my grasp, I
was pulling it open, and then I was grabbed from behind and
wrenched away.

A pair of massive arms
coiled around me, pinning me to the stranger’s chest. I was hoisted
up, but when my toes brushed the floor I instantly kicked off,
throwing my weight as I jerked my head back. It connected with his
chin, and the giant grunted in response as a sharp pain radiated
out of my scalp, but his grasp never went slack. He had me at a
real disadvantage, and all I could do was drum my heels against his
shins, scratch at his arms, and scream. Growing impatient he
squeezed, cutting of my cries as I gasped for just a sip of
air.

“
The elusive Adelaide
Graves, I presume,” came a shockingly cultured voice. “I’ve heard
interesting things, but no one mentioned you were
feisty.”

He took two steps, hoisting me higher before
suddenly dumping me onto the couch. I bounced, splayed out, one
cushion sliding off as I scrambled to sit up.

I was breathing heavy,
trying to catch up on the air I’d lost. His emotions weren’t
particularly aggressive, no anger or disgust, so I wasn’t as afraid
as I maybe should’ve been. Smoothing my hair back, I carefully
said, “I’m not exactly welcoming or congenial to people who force
their way into my house.” Demanding, “Who the hell are
you?”

The man walked around the
couch, stopping to loom in front of me, our knees almost touching.
He was taller than Luke, taller than anyone I knew. He was also
built like a truck. He reminded me of Beagban, just as big but not
nearly as comical. His face didn’t have the exaggerated features,
just a mess of wear and tear. With his hair shorn close to the
scalp it was easy to see the crisscross of scars, a network of
slashes that covered a great deal of visible skin, especially his
knuckles. His nose was crooked and a piece of his ear was missing.
In addition, the heavy set of his brow ridge made him seem
thick.

“
I thought you might
already know,” he said. The gentle flow of his voice, the careful
inflection, it convinced me that he was far from stupid.

I shrugged, not in the mood for games.

“
Larson Hurst,” he
prompted, watching for my reaction. “You will have heard of
me.”

I thought Lars Hurst would
be Reed’s counterpart. Darkly sophisticated with a veneer of easy
elegance, but the truth was Lars Hurst was a bruiser.

I didn’t admit to knowing
anything, as I could feel him waiting with interest for every bit
of stray information I might give away. “Larson rhymes with arson,”
I said instead. “Is that a coincidence, or just another one of your
illegal pastimes?”

“
Difficult, aren’t you?”
He appraised me for a moment and then moved a few feet back,
lowering himself onto the coffee table. It groaned under his weight
while the puzzle got pushed aside, some pieces falling to the floor
where they scattered along the carpet.

“Make yourself at home,” I said dryly.

“
I knew you wouldn’t
welcome my intrusion,” Lars said, taking control of the
conversation. “I heard what you did to Raina Thompson, very
inventive.”

“
I can do the same to you,
just let me grab the honey and flour,” I answered, gesturing toward
the kitchen.

“
She went to work for
Reed, did you know?” I kept a blank face, but sometimes even
nothing was an answer. “I see you did. Interesting, that. People
are so drawn to my old friend Reed, they jump at the chance to
simply be near him, strange that you don’t seem to enjoy the close
position.” It was a suggestive statement if I ever heard one. He
waited, expecting me to confirm or deny a relationship with Reed. I
did neither. “Nothing to say?” he prompted. “Well, I’m not
disappointed.”

He grinned, showing off his teeth, a little
chipped and ever so slightly skewed. His expression made me shift
on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable. I didn’t like that look.

“
You see, I enjoy a
challenge,” he continued. Then he turned toward the kitchen and
called out, “Tony. Eric.”

My eyes skimmed over the
newcomers, two men spilling in from the hall, both big, but not as
impressive as their master. I took in their casual dress and heavy
tread walk, but my attention abruptly stopped, gaze fixated on
their hands, the skin red and raw. Then I really noticed their
clothing, the dark cloth masking, but not altogether concealing the
fresh stains.

Blood.

I jumped off the couch,
and having predicted my action, Lars stood in time, mirroring the
motion. I tried to push past him, shoving his chest with both
hands. For some reason he let me, even keeping his goons in check
as I swept past them, down the hall and into the
kitchen.

It was worse than I
thought, my belated fear coming in full force. Lucas was tied to a
chair, hands secured behind his back, lower chest wrapped in ropes,
ankles too. They had worked him over. His face was already mottled
with bruises, blood dripping from his mouth, nose and ears. He sat
slumped, body tipping to one side, but thankfully
unconscious.

My fingers were shaking when I touched his
face. His skin was warm, almost hot, but feeling that small sign of
life wasn’t enough. I wanted more assurance, some proof or promise
that he would be alright.

“
He wouldn’t say a word,”
Lars said, almost bragging as he stepped into the kitchen. The
other two filed in behind, all three of them watching as I hovered
over Lucas. “I would have thought him mute, except he swore quite a
bit at times.”

I saw my mistake then in
not fearing this man sooner. In the past I had relied on my empathy
to feel out the enemy. Raina was easy to anticipate, contempt
always underlining her deeds. Beagban, too, had been controlled by
his need to intimidate and master those around him. Emotions made
people predictable. But Lars wasn’t one to be ruled by
emotion.

Casually he strolled over,
and I tensed at his nearness, the fear crawling all over me. Lars
slapped Lucas on the back, causing his inert form to slump forward
even more.

“
We’ve been careful with
him,” the devil assured me. “Only broke three ribs so far. But
then, we’re just getting started.”

When he glanced down at
Lucas I saw something disturbing in his eyes, it was something like
pride. He had all the ingredients for fascination, the interest,
admiration and surprise. “He wouldn’t tell a thing about you, not
even the color of your eyes. Can you believe that?”

Without warning Lars
slammed a fist into Luke’s gut. I screamed and tried to push him
back, but the damage was already done. Luke briefly came to life,
groaning as he slumped further forward.

Lars was a sociopath. He’d admired Luke’s
stalwart attitude one second, and beat him the next. “There goes a
fourth rib,” he carelessly observed for my sake. He was trying to
drive me mad and it was working.

“Stop,” I hissed. “I’ll do anything you
want, just stop.”

I had to draw things out
until the cavalry arrived. The second I saw what they’d done to
Lucas I pressed the stones down on my Tibetan ring, pulling aside
the plate to reveal the little black nib button, the panic button.
Reed knew I was in trouble and it was only a matter of biding my
time.

“
Your connection to Reed
eludes me,” Lars admitted. “Explain it to me.”

With Luke’s well-being on
the line I didn’t hesitate. “It was predicted that I would find
Demidov’s diary. Reed kept me around for that reason.”

“
The two of you have slept
together, then.”

“
No,” I answered,
wondering why he thought so.

His arm exploded forward, crashing into Luke
before I even knew what was happening.

“
No!” I yelled, helpless
to stop him. It was already done.

“
I don’t believe you,”
Lars said calmly, emotions unruffled. “And every time I don’t
believe you, Lucas will pay.”

“
I never slept with Reed,”
I reiterated. “But his charm does affect me and sometimes...
sometimes I get carried away. But I swear, it never got that far.
We haven’t slept together.”

Lars laughed, loud and
deep, his enjoyment clear. “You spurn Reed for the rough type, I
can appreciate that.” His mood was still light when he continued.
“And I understand that he would fly down here if he was trying to
fuck you, but why the secrecy? What is he up to?”

It all boiled down to the
diary, either I would tell him or I wouldn’t. My internal debate
lasted for only a second, but it was one second too
long.

Lars grew impatient. “Hold
her,” he directed.

The two men who’d been
lurking behind me didn’t waste time. “Get off,” I yelled as they
hauled me away from Lucas, twisting my arms back until I was bent
forward, the angle unnatural as it was painful.

“
I much prefer to use my
fists,” Lars said, feeling a bit disappointed. “There’s something
honest about it,” he explained. “It’s just so course and unrefined,
and, well, I suppose it feels more natural. But if there’s one
thing I learned from Beagban, it’s the advantage of a blade. So
let’s expedite this process, shall we, cutting through flesh and
time together.”