Coveted - Book 3 in the Gwen Sparks Series (12 page)

“It doesn’t surprise me. Every government has a dirty side.”

“Yeah, well, my government’s dirty side is trying to kill me,” I paused. “Speaking of which, what do you know about the Veil?”

Micah sat down at the table, leaning back in the chair. “I thought they were a myth, a story that paranoid supes told. Up until now they’ve been more legend than fact.” Returning the knife to the block, I joined him at the table.

 “So, what
do
you know about the Veil? I tried looking them up on the web but got a whole lot of nothing.”

Micah chuckled. “They’re a secret, underground group, Gwen. They’re not going to advertise their services on a website.” He pointed to the computer. “They’re not stupid.”

“It’s called grasping at straws, Micah. I have no way of finding out about them. Everything else is on the web so I figured I would give it a shot.”

“Why not ask Dorian?” Micah asked.

“Hmm, I should have thought about that right before he left.” I was trying very hard to not allow Dorian’s runaway act anger me. It was not working so far. I had plenty of time to think about it this morning and the more I thought the angrier I got. Demon possessed rogues wanted my head, and he was off who knew where trying to figure out why he couldn’t see my death. One thing was for sure, I was on my own for the time being. I would have to start taking those precautions Dorian was so fond of bitching at me about.

“What?” I asked once I noticed the strange look Micah was giving me.

Micah grinned. “Nothing,” he said shaking his head and lowering his eyes.

“It’s something,” I insisted. “Do you forget we dated for eight months? I know when you’re hiding something from me.”

“I can smell your desire for him,” Micah said almost apologetically. “Were you and him…”

“No,” I snapped. “And that’s TMI.” It was impossible for a person to retain their modesty when they were around vampires and werewolves. They saw, heard or smelled too much.

“Hey, I tried not to tell you,” Micah shrugged. “Getting back on track, the Veil is made up of supernatural rogues, creatures who don’t want to play along with society’s rules. Once they join the Veil they forfeit their souls to the dark side for the chance of gaining power. No one knows where their headquarters are, and the only way to contact them is through a black magic spell.”

Well, that information didn’t help me. It was pretty much the same thing Dorian had told me. Maybe the Veil was just a bunch of social rejects that banded together and formed their own gang, a minor operation instead of the huge following like we all suspected. There was nothing more important to thugs than their reputations. If the public thought they were some scary, demon-backed group, they would leave them alone. The rogues would be free to kill anyone they wanted. I ran the argument through my head, testing it for flaws. After debating my theory, I found one—the black eyes. My attacker wasn’t a vampire, which meant he was something else, something darker—eviler.

“How are you feeling?” Micah asked, tearing me away from my thoughts. “You look a lot better.”

“Better than last night?”

“Better than after your attack.”

My eyebrows arched. “Oh, I didn’t realize you saw me afterwards.” I remembered Dorian telling me he called for help when I was fighting to stay conscious, but I couldn’t put a coherent thought together. Of course the FPD would arrive on the scene.

“Yeah,” Micah said softly. “We weren’t sure you would make it.” His warm honeyed eyes watched me with compassion, and I gave him a small smile.

“Aiden gave me his blood,” I said with nonchalance. “How have you been? You look…tired.” I needed to change the subject. If I thought about how I felt in the hospital it would break through my confidence.

“Jesse’s pregnant,” he said reluctantly. The reason it hadn’t worked out between Micah and me was due to the fact that I wasn’t a werewolf and couldn’t offer him purebred children. His father, the alpha of their pack, did not make our relationship easy. In the end, Micah chose his pack and it was for the best.

“Congratulations,” I said and tried to sound the way a normal, excited person would. I
was
happy for Micah but it was still a touchy, awkward subject.

“Thanks,” Micah said. “A pregnant werewolf’s hormones are off the charts. If I survive this it will be a miracle.”

I smiled. “You’re tough. I’m sure you’ll be okay. I bet your father and Wyatt are excited.”

“Gwen, we don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted to stop by and see if you were all right and to ask you to keep Broomsticks closed until this blows over.”

“Are you going to call the people who send my bills and let them know why I can’t work?” I halfheartedly joked. A magic shop in a town full of magical folks didn’t rake in the dough like some would think. I made enough to cover my expenses with a small profit at the end. Plus, keeping the store closed meant Penny and Jillian wouldn’t get a paycheck either.

“Didn’t you kill Ian Despereaux?” Micah asked.

My eyebrows drew together. “Yeah? So?”

“You didn’t get an inheritance?”

“A what?”

“When vampires are killed, their assets go to the one who ended their life. It’s a sick rule the vamps have. Doesn’t make sense to me. You would think people would be trying to kill vampires all the time to inherit their fortunes.”

I laughed. “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Plus, Ian’s sire is still alive. Wouldn’t his money go to him?”

Micah shrugged. “Perhaps, or maybe his sire just doesn’t want you to have it and that is why you haven’t gotten notice of it yet. You should ask Aiden…if you two are speaking, that is.”

“Yeah, we’re still talking…sort of.”

Micah’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Another long story I don’t feel like telling,” I explained.

An awkward silence settled over the kitchen, and then Micah stood up. “I should get going. It was nice seeing you, Gwen.”

I stood up also, walking around the table to hold the door while Micah stepped out onto the balcony. “You too.”

“Think about what I said about keeping the store closed, and stay safe. You know if you need anything you can call me or Wyatt.”

“I will, and thanks. Tell Jesse I said congrats,” I smiled. When Micah turned to leave, I shut the door and leaned against it, staring at my small kitchen. Cabinets and countertop were housed on the far wall, along with the stove. The refrigerator rested at the end, and a small worn table sat in front of two windows that looked over the pathetic front lawn and parking lot. I had painted the walls a bright blue, but the longer I stared at them the more I hated the color. The yellowing linoleum was beginning to crack in various places. The landlord hadn’t updated the apartment building since the eighties.

The phone rang, startling me. I laughed at myself for being easily shaken and walked the short distance to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Is this Gwen, Gwen Sparks?” The man’s voice sounded like that of an elderly man, soft and raspy.

“Yes,” I said with uncertainty, peeking over my shoulder and around my kitchen.

“I have a deal for you,” the man said.

“Who is this?” I hurried to the window and looked out into the yard as if the man would just be standing out there. What can I say… people get paranoid when they’re scared.

“Who I am does not matter,” the old man said. “What matters is your life and whether or not you’ll have it for much longer.”

I couldn’t say anything to that. I slammed the phone onto the cradle and stepped backwards and away from it like it was a poisonous snake. The phone rang again, screaming through the kitchen and beating against my eardrums. I jumped. It continued to ring repeatedly until the sound became one long noise in my mind. I raked my fingers through my hair, frustration seeping through my veins.

“What do you want?” I growled into the phone, clutching it tight. A low, raspy chuckle rolled over the receiver and all the way down my spine. There was nothing fragile in that laugh.

“Avoidance is only postponing the inevitable, my dear.”

Goosebumps pebbled my arms, and my skin crawled as his soft breath sounded in my ears. I punched the
END
button and took the battery out of the back of the phone for good measure. Now rogues were making house calls? Suddenly the walls and locked door didn’t make me feel as safe as they had moments before.

I sipped my vanilla iced coffee on my walk to Broomsticks. As I headed down the sidewalk from Espresso Self to my shop, sharp stares and not-so-hushed whispers fell my way. The people of Flora really weren’t that different than those of a human small town; give them something to talk about and their mouths ran wild. I had brought chaos to their haven. I could almost see the ideas of pitchforks and torches in their steely gazes. As I passed one woman with a small child, I had to smile as she shielded the little girl from me as we crossed each other. In a town of monsters, I had become the boogeyman. Talk about ironic.

I stopped in front of my store, eyes wide and a frown on my face. A sheet of plywood covered the door. I had forgotten Dorian had busted it down, but that wasn’t what made me frown. In bold, red letters was the Latin word
infelicitas
, which roughly translated to bad luck. It was a warning to the townsfolk to stay clear of me. I could handle Fiona’s dad talking her into staying in Moon; she was his daughter and he was protecting her, but now my hometown was keeping a wide berth?

“What ever happened to unity?” I asked no one in particular, looking over my shoulder. A man—no, not a man, an elf picked up his pace to pass me and murmured something under his breath that sounded a lot like “cursed”. Shaking my head in frustration, I made my way down the alley and to the back of the store. Unlocking the door, I flipped on the light and stepped inside, making sure to lock the door behind me.

The storage area wasn’t very big, but it was enough for my small store. Rows and rows of metal shelving units ran in three lines to the left and to the right was a gift-wrapping station that rarely saw use. Just behind that was my office and restroom, the walls were made of cinder block and painted the color of sand.

I made my way up front, my steps slow and hesitant. From the back of the store the shop looked untouched, but I knew better. It was a crime scene,
my
crime scene. Once I made it out of the rows of glass shelves, I stopped. The register, pens, bags and various papers were strewn in front of the cashier station. Shards of wood and glass littered the gray carpet by the door. I stepped closer, my heart thumping wildly. Like a movie reel, those horrible memories replayed in my mind.

The rogue held me from behind, the dagger cutting into the skin at my throat. My head was full of blurry stars from getting it slammed onto the counter. Dorian stood on the other side of the counter, icy fury rolling off him in dangerous waves. He was as beautiful as an avenging angel.

“Can you kill me before I kill her?” the rogue had asked, pressing the blade tighter. I was losing consciousness but Dorian ordered me to keep eye contact with him.

I walked around the counter and stared at the space behind it. A deep dent concaved the wall where the rogue had thrown me against it.

The rogue’s hold loosened, the dagger’s sharp edge falling from my throat. Angry grunts sounded from behind me as the man fought against Dorian’s influence. With a hard thump, the rogue fell to the floor. Before I could join him, Dorian captured my falling body in his arms. With a swipe of his arm, he cleared the counter and placed my body on top.

“Stay with me, Gwen,” he whispered.

I blinked as the memory of his words bounced around my head. The last thing I remembered was Dorian catching me and clearing the counter. I was sure after that I had passed out yet, now things were being added to a memory I didn’t know I had. My eyes fell to the counter and the red stain of my blood coating it. A tremor vibrated my bones.

Dorian brushed my hair away from my face. My eyes were closed and my head lolled to the side. For all intents and purposes I looked dead. Dorian leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. His fingers disappeared through the curtain of my dark hair while he rested his cheek against my head.

“You will not die,” Dorian growled, standing up straight. He looked to the ceiling; his hands fisted so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Do you hear me?” He yelled. “I won’t let you take her.”

I blinked back tears, surprised to feel them falling against my cheeks. Confusion consumed me. How was I able to see and hear Dorian when I was passed out? The memory was so vivid like it was there all along.

“Gwen,” Dorian said softly, standing and taking a couple steps. A white mist hovered just in front of him, so soft it was hard to make out. Dorian reached out his hand to the misty form and it became solid beneath his grasp. The fog solidified into that of a woman with long dark hair. Her back was turned toward Dorian.

I took small steps backwards while I saw the past play out in front of me. My throat constricted and the air in my lungs thinned. I jumped when my back hit the wall behind me. Looking over my shoulder briefly, I brought my gaze back to the space in front of me.