Awakening Kiss (Watcher's Kiss Book 4) (27 page)

He sat back and ran a hand over his jaw. A nymph was missing and it ended up in a human police file. They thought she was human, of course. Things like this happened occasionally. And it didn’t necessarily mean anything. Nymphs tended to get themselves into trouble, which usually they could charm their way out of. Usually.

He completed his search of the police files without finding anything else notable. Adamson had an electronic trail, but that didn’t tell Rhys where the asshole was right this minute. Time to call in magical help. He pulled out his cell and dialed Miranda.

“Hey, Rhys.” Her voice was sleepy and a rustling noise carried through the phone. “Just a minute.” The sounds of feet padding and a door closing came next. “What’s up with you so early?”

“You know we don’t always sleep.”

“Hmm, true.” She yawned. “How’s Enza?”

“Ready for more training.” He grinned at the thought of Enza in his bed. As quickly as he could, he summed up yesterday’s crazy chain of events.

“Holy shit!” Miranda exclaimed. “Where is she now?”

“At work.”

“You let her go into work—”

“Brenin is there. I’m tracking this dude online. Found some info, but nothing that’ll lead me to him right now. And that’s where I need your help.”

“You found someone with lightning power, who’s apparently naturally kick-ass at it and a very cool chick.” Appreciation filtered through Miranda’s tone. “I’m all yours.”

“Meet me at his Austin apartment. We’ll find something to help you scry. Maybe a hair, a fingernail, I don’t know.”

Scrying was a skill that most Deserati demons had. They could use any reflective surface and their own inherent magic to see what was happening to someone, somewhere else. They could view real time events, not past or future—but they could also see across the realms. Having a personal item or DNA from the subject helped immensely.

“Sure. Text me the address. I can be there in an hour, maybe less.”

“Thanks, Miranda.”

”I knew that girl was special. You lucked out in finding her. You know that, right?”

He twirled a pen between his fingers. “Yeah. I do.” More than he ever could have imagined. “See you soon.” Rhys ended the call.

He
was
lucky. Enza was amazing. Sexy, sweet, passionate, talented, loved her family and friends. He vowed to find the two Deserati men if it was the last thing he did. Because keeping his little baker safe had become his first priority.

Rhys scented Miranda before he saw her, roses mixed with the telltale Deserati fragrance of pepper and cloves. Tapping away on her phone, she lounged against the shit hole of a building that Rhys had been in last night, ignoring the stares of passing women and men.

With her red hair, pale skin, and leather pants, she stood out like a lone star in the sky. Different and very noticeable. Miranda only indulged human attention when she wanted something. “Hey.” She glanced up when Rhys neared. “Nice place they got here.”

He snorted. “Wait ’til you see what they’ve done with the inside.”

They opened the worthless door and went up to Soren’s apartment. Rhys went to twist the doorknob and Miranda took a step back. “You did check for traps last night?”

“Standard procedure.” With a shove, he opened the door and walked in.

Miranda quickly moved from room to room, stopping to assess the bathroom counter. “There’s hairs and crap here, but there’s no way to tell if it belongs to them. I’m guessing they weren’t big on cleaning.”

“Doubt it.” A small tan spider crawled up the cracked mirror over the sink. Rhys ran a hand over his hair as an idea formed. “Can you collect some items here, and we’ll make a couple more stops?”

“Sure.” She pulled a Ziploc bag from her pants pocket. “Where’d you have in mind?”

“The landlord. He owns a couple places like this. I want to see his books, check out the other addresses and his financial records. Then we see if there’s a more current place these two rent from him.”

She carefully picked several hairs and dropped them into her bag. “Fine. Let me guess, you snoop while I distract?”

“Bingo. You’re the best.”

“I know,” she sighed and picked up a fingernail clipping. “Ugh. Let’s go.”

Their next stop was the South Side neighborhood of Jose Garza. His home was one of the many brick bungalows that filled dozens of Chicago streets. A chain link fence surrounded a small yard, with a rusty “Beware of Dog” sign clipped to it.

“I don’t see or smell a dog,” Miranda murmured.

“Me neither.” Rhys pointed to the side of the house. “I’ll wait until you’re in then go in the back.”

Miranda gave a thumbs-up, bounded up the cement steps, and rang the bell.

A short dark-haired man with an enormous belly hanging over his waistband answered the door and instantly Miranda went into charm mode.

“I need a place to stay and I hear you rent apartments? I need something quick and I’ll pay cash.
Por favor?
” she gushed.

“
Si
, come in, come in.” He gestured and stepped back to let her in.

Their voices became quieter as they moved into a front room. Papers shuffled and chairs squeaked across hard floors. Rhys crept to the back door, guessing it would lead to a kitchen or a back porch.

He rounded the corner, stepping through scraggly weeds.
Kitchen it is.
He paused and listened, detecting no one else inside. He walked up the three steps to the door, picked the lock, and stepped in.

The familiar scent of natural gas from the old stove greeted him. These narrow rectangular houses usually had two or three bedrooms, with the master being the farthest back. He ducked into the closest bedroom, which held a queen size bed and a small desk. Binders were lined up neatly on a shelf above it, and Rhys silently gave a high five to Garza for being organized. Maybe he rented shitty apartments, but if he kept good records, that was a plus.

Each binder’s spine had an address written on it. Rhys opened the first one, impressed to see tabbed sections with tax bills, repair receipts, complaints and, lastly, rent receipts. Rhys had already seen images of the renters’ checks online. But he flipped impatiently through the pages of the Austin binder, searching for Soren’s unit.

There. The unit number, Soren’s name, and “$24,000 cash, paid on May 19.”

Well okay. He’d paid for a full year up front. Bet he made Garza’s day.

Rhys reached for the next binder, a building in Rogers Park on the North Side. It was similarly organized and, again, there was a record of Soren paying for twelve months in one lump cash sum. Rhys made a mental note of the address and unit number, then checked the third binder, which held zilch about Soren.

Rhys took another quick look around the desk and saw nothing special. He replaced the binders and left, sidling around to the side of the building nearest the room Miranda was in.

Garza was telling her about the Rogers Park building, how safe and new it was, while she pretended to be thrilled. Rhys sent her a text:
Done. I’m outside.

Ten seconds later, Miranda was making up reasons to leave, promising to follow up with Garza. Her boots scraped on the cement steps. A text chimed to Rhys’s phone.

Miranda:
Wait a minute to catch up to me. He’s worried about me being in this neighborhood alone. LOL.

Rhys snorted. Woe to the human who dared accost Miranda. But he waited until she reached the end of the block, then jogged to join her.

“Got an address and unit number for that Rogers Park building,” he said. “They paid for a full year, in cash, for each.”

She nodded. “Smart. North Side, here we come. You’re giving me a workout.”

Rhys grinned. “Can’t say your day is boring.”

“With your group, never,” she said dryly. “At least it’s not quite so hot today.”

They headed north, forced to walk instead of run along the rooftops since it was daytime. When they reached a main thoroughfare, they caught a cab. In fifteen minutes, they were at the building.

“Let’s hope this gives us something decent,” Miranda said as they exited the taxi.

“There’s a chance they could be home.” Rhys pulled out his phone and activated the detection app. To an observer, it would seem that he was just taking a picture or a video. His phone completed its scan. “No supernaturals here,” he said.

“That’ll make things easier.” Miranda folded her arms. “More breaking and entering, coming up.”

Rhys picked the lock on the outside door while Miranda stood close, blocking passers-by from seeing what he was doing. Inside, they headed up to the third floor and again, picked the lock. Miranda stepped to the side of the unit.

In a smooth, practiced move, Rhys twisted the knob, kicked the door, and ducked to the side of the frame. The air crackled as a blast of magic burst forth, probably set to stun.

“I’d expect no less,” Miranda murmured, sauntering in.

Rhys followed her, finding himself in a small, tidy living room rich with the scent of Deserati demon. “This is it.”

“Yeah, and they’ll know we were here. If they weren’t trying to find you already, now they have another reason.” Miranda headed through the room to a hallway.

True. Just as they could smell the Deserati, when Soren and the other dude returned, they would easily detect Rhys’s and Miranda’s scents. Rhys allowed the kitchen only a passing glance. Like Lash demons, Deserati didn’t need to eat every day. He stalked after Miranda, who had paused in the bathroom. It was a step above the other apartment, with tile made to resemble stone covering the walls and floor, and modern fixtures.

Miranda pulled a dark hair from the tile in the shower and dropped it into her baggie. Rhys continued to a bedroom. No art or decoration of any kind graced the walls. A pile of gray sheets lay twisted and rumpled on the bed. In the closet, a collection of button down men’s shirts, pants, and jeans hung. He peered farther in. No safe. He frowned. Where did they store their weapons or cash?

Checking the dresser, he came up empty. Damn, he had to have missed something. Either that, or they were poorly funded and supplied. But that didn’t match Soren’s electronic breadcrumb trail. Pulling out the drawers again, he tapped each one with his fingertips, sliding them along the edges, looking for…

There.
One of the lower ones had a false bottom. He popped it open as Miranda walked in and peered over his shoulder.

“Nice,” she said, as a set of shiny handmade blades gleamed up at them from a black velvet wrap. Several rubber banded piles of cash sat next to it, and five amulets on slender chains rolled around between them.

“I’ll give these to Rilan.” Rhys pocketed the amulets. Who knew what magic they held? It could be basic transportation, or something much more deadly. He took the knives, as per Watcher protocol, to inspect them at home. They’d either be used or melted down back on Torth. Rhys replaced the panel, having no need of the Deseratis’ money.

“Since we can’t come back…” Miranda opened one of the top drawers. “I’ll need something else, to keep scrying on them.”

Rhys straightened. “Take whatever you want. It’s not like they’ll care too much, after figuring out we’ve been here.” They would be pissed, they would want blood, and Rhys welcomed it. His fists clenched, wanting to destroy them for the way they’d pursued Enza.

“As gross as this may be, some dirty laundry would be a huge help.” She left the room and her boots click-clacked on the cheap bathroom floor.

“Just another day in your glamorous life.” He strode to the living room, not sympathizing that she was digging in the hamper.

“Got a sock.” She joined him, tucking it into another bag. “This way, we can cut off pieces of it and scry for a loooong time.”

He raised a brow, happy she had what she needed. “Whatever it takes, right?”

“Hey, it’s not the grossest thing I’ve ever had to drop into a scrying bowl.” She wrinkled her nose. “Kai once gave me a severed hand.”

Rhys grinned at the mention of his fellow Watcher. “I don’t want to know.”

“Nope. You don’t.” She swiveled toward the door. “I say we do this back at your house, since we don’t know when those two will be back.”

“First of all, we’ll be spying on them, so we’ll see where they are. And second?” He grinned. “We can take them.”

“Of course we can.” She folded her arms. “I guess, as long as we know Enza’s oka—”

Rhys’s phone chimed with a text from Brenin. Enza’s tired. Bringing her back to our house.

Rhys texted back:
Miranda and I are at their other apartment—will meet you at home.

“Actually, she and Brenin are coming home. So yeah, let’s go and meet them at our place.” Rhys rolled his shoulders. “That way she can watch you scry.”

“Good idea. I’ll have to see if she can do that too,” Miranda mused. “She might just get even more special.”

I already know she is.
But Rhys just shook his head, glad that Miranda had taken as much of a shine to Enza as the rest of his friends. Because if anything happened to her, he’d drag everyone he knew in to assist.

C
HAPTER
28

E
NZA GOT HER SECOND EXTRA-LARGE,
five-shot espresso of the day, and wrapped a piece of pound cake in brown paper for Rhys. Wait. She rubbed her sleep-fogged head. Tor and Jude. And Rilan, who she hadn’t even met yet. She took four banana nut muffins from a still-cooling tray and packed them carefully in a box.