Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3) (7 page)

We were returning to Haverleau in two days. Leaving Manhattan empty-handed was not an option.

An international freight would need to pass border inspection. A quick online search brought up the address for the US Customs New York field office.

I stood and slipped my phone into my back pocket. Maybe he'd text later today.

The door opened and Fujio stepped through. "Going somewhere?"

I grabbed my messenger bag and slung it around my shoulders. I didn't have an appointment, but my wait time might be reduced if I arrived there early enough. "I have to get downtown."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He stopped me. "Your aura."

"Doesn't matter. They know I'm in town looking for them."

His expression darkened, eyes flickering around the room. "Where's Julian?"

"Obviously, he's not here," I said, irritated. "Look, I need to go."

The Bessettes entered in a cloud of mouth-watering scents.

Helene dropped a tray of coffee on the table and flopped onto the sofa. Renee lifted a white paper bag and the tantalizing smell of freshly baked bagels wafted through the room.

"Breakfast?"

My stomach growled and I almost stepped forward. Then I noticed the calculating gleam in her eyes.

Whatever she was up to, I wasn't interested.

"Can't." I'd make it up to my stomach later. "Got a lead."

"I know." Renee sat and pulled a bagel out of the bag. "Julian called. Wanted me to take you to the customs office and act as back-up."

At least he was okay. I knew he was still angry since he didn't bother replying to my text.

But thinking Renee could act as my back-up? He must really want to torment me.

I showed her my teeth. "No."

She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "Do you know where you're going?"

"Of course."

"Do you know how to get through the red tape?"

"Don't insult my intelligence."

She swallowed. "First, you have to pass security on the ground floor. Impossible without an appointment. Even if you manage to talk your way past it, you'll have to get through the receptionist at the US Customs office. Native New Yorker, born and raised in the Bronx, one year past retirement. Her only joy in life is the power she gets off on as gatekeeper."

Fingers clenched tighter around my bag strap. "Then I guess I'll have to get creative —"

"I have a friend who works in that office," she continued as if I hadn't spoken. "A demillir who'd be happy to help. In fact, I already called and he's waiting for us."

She'd outmaneuvered me, mainly because Julian had given her a heads up.

I forced my jaw to unclench. "Fine."

"No," Fujio said, exasperated. "You can't traipse around Manhattan without Julian. Let me get Urian and several of his men to go with you."

"Here." Renee handed him a tall coffee. "Brought your favorite. Two creams, one sugar."

"You trying to bribe me?" He took it anyway.

"Please." She settled back in the chair and stretched her long legs. "Give me a little credit."

He sat across from her and eyed the paper bag. "Any whole-wheat bagels in there?"

She gave a feline smile. "You know, I think it even came with your favorite cream cheese."

Resigned, I moved over to the sofa and waited while she worked her magic.

"It's better just to accept her help," Helene muttered. "I tried to upstage her for years and it didn't work."

"I'll keep that in mind. What are you doing here anyway?"

She gave a melodramatic sigh. "My camera had a weird glitch so I took it in to get it fixed. Should be done by tomorrow."

Thank you, Universe.

She also hadn't answered my question.

"Don't you have school or something?" It was nine on a Monday morning.

Fingers twisted the hem of her shirt. "Mom let me take the month off."

Nothing seemed wrong with her health. And after everything Catrin did to push me this month, I found it highly unlikely she'd let her daughter drop classes.

"Why?"

"I'm going to the Elemental conference with her." Her leg bounced up and down. "It'll provide a great setting for my documentary."

She picked up a photo from the table. Peter Schlusser's body splayed, gruesome and vivid.

I yanked it out of her hand and shoved it, along with the other photos, back into a folder. "Those aren't for you."

"Why?"

"Because it's none of your business."

Fingers drummed on her thigh. Without a camera in front of her, her movements were jerkier and more self-conscious.

"How old were you when you saw a dead body for the first time?" she asked.

The memory of my father's body propped against a dumpster uncoiled from the recesses of my mind. I'd been three-years-old.

I half-expected a guy to pop up behind the sofa with a hidden camera. "Why do you want to know?"

"I was five," she said conversationally. "Dad watched a movie with Renee and me. We were on our way home when they attacked. He tried to protect us and Urian saved me and my sister."

"I'm sorry." I paused. "First body I saw was my dad's, too."

"I can handle photos of dead people. Even Peter."

"This stuff is dangerous and —"

"You think I can't help because I'm younger than you."

I studied the defiant tilt of her chin. "That's part of it."

"You don't lie. That's good." She nodded at my bag. "A book is missing."

"What are you talking about?" I pulled the photo she looked at out of my bag again. "Where?"

"Shelf near Peter's right foot. Mom sold him one of my books a few months ago," she explained. "When we saw him last week, it was still at the very end of the bottom row. He even made a joke about how it'd never sell because the subject wasn't popular."

I could just make out a slim empty space near the edge of the shelf.

Helene's attention to visual detail was scary. She'd glanced at the photo for only a few seconds.

"What's the title?"

"
Lores of the Old World
." She turned her attention to her phone. "Legends, folktales, stuff like that."

I made a mental note to double-check the store's sales records. If Peter didn't sell it, there was a possibility Aquidae took it when they killed him. Which meant it might be important.

It took another half-hour of wheedling and bagel bribing to convince Fujio to let us go without security detail. By the time Renee and I caught the express train downtown, the sun had risen high into the sky.

We rode in silence, lost in our own thoughts. The subway clattered into Penn Station. Crowds surged, a massive wave of humanity flowing in and out of the car.

We stepped onto the platform and wove our way through the lunch hour crush.

She pushed through the turnstile ahead of me. "You made it clear."

The inevitable moment of addressing the elephant in the room.

Maybe he said something to her over the phone. Or she guessed.

"Yeah. Last night."

Her prying felt deeply intrusive. But I knew she was simply concerned for her friend.

Maneuvering past a group of frazzled tourists, we turned left and climbed up to the next level.

"Maybe you're not so bad after all," she murmured.

I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment.

We took the escalator up to street level and exited on Seventh Avenue outside Madison Square Garden. A burst of energy slammed into us. Honking cars and throngs of bundled people swirled around us in a frenzy of midday activity. The cold cut like a blade, air rich with the metallic taste of asphalt and ozone.

We strode north toward Thirty-third street. "So who's this guy we're meeting?"

"Someone I've known for a while."

Somber melancholy, like an old regret, colored her tone. Curiosity rose.

She changed the subject. "Do you know how to play Same or Different?"

"Of course."

A player made two different facial expressions based on whatever cards he drew. Angry and happy. Hungry and tired.

Turning his back to the opponent, he'd whip around with one of the expressions. The objective for the other player was to determine what he'd do beforehand.

If your face matched his, you won. It was a simple test of observation. The key was noticing little tells in the player's body milliseconds before he turned.

Like all kid games, it was supposed to be fun and silly. But my mother had transformed it into an exercise training my attention to detail.

"Use your Virtue. Tap my hand once for same. Twice for different."

I stopped. "What?"

I could do the entire thing on my own without her interference.

"He's my contact and I'm a better actor. Your eyes don't lie, Kendra."

She'd gotten us the appointment. Much as I didn't like it, she had the right to take the lead.

I gave a grudging sigh of agreement.

A massive steel, concrete, and glass edifice located west of Seventh Avenue, One Penn Plaza housed several multi-national corporations and buzzed with activity.

The lobby stretched before us, a sterile expanse of metal and tile. Eyes tracked us the moment we entered. I counted six humans, dressed in normal attire, acting as undercover security and four surveillance cameras mounted in ceiling corners.

Renee breezed over to a thick marble counter marked "Visitors". A tall, muscular man, cloaked in intimidation, stood behind it.

Sharp eyes darted over us. Definitely military or law enforcement background.

No hello. No acknowledgment. Simply an artful raising of his brow as if we were wasting his time.

Virtue picked up threads of cool wariness, a wall of control built from disciplined adherence to rules. He wouldn't suffer fools and wouldn't bend for anyone.

Same
. One tap.

She gave him a hard look and leaned forward into his space. "Renee Bessette. Appointment with Phillip Albert in US Customs."

Her icy voice demanded respect.

The guard dialed up to the office, deliberately taking his time. Cynical eyes took me in.
 

I gave him a feral smile. He wasn't impressed.

"You going to take forever?" she asked, voice clipped.

He hung up. "Eleventh floor."

We headed to a bank of elevators and squeezed in with a group of corporate suits and a bike messenger.

Everything about the building screamed officious authority in all-caps. It made my skin itch.

With a soft ping, the doors slid open on the eleventh floor. The office was done in shades of navy blue, red, and white and the furnishings lent itself to functionality and not design.

A large woman with mean eyes and salt and pepper hair manned the reception desk. Her face looked as coldly judgmental as the building itself, grey suit so nondescript she blended into the drab decor.

Pouchy lips tightened into a severe line. "Yes?"

Virtue shifted. Deep-seated insecurity buried under a veneer of anger and egotism. Challenging her would set her off.

Two taps.

"Hello." Renee's syrupy, southern voice and sugary smile gave me an instant headache. "I'm so sorry to bother you. You must be so busy and we really don't want to take up your time. We're here to see Phillip Albert."

Her eyes narrowed. "You can't just come in and demand to see an agent."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Renee lightly touched her chest and let out a feminine peal of laughter. "I'm so silly. My friends tell me I always forget to share the important things first. We do have an appointment with Phillip." She extended her hand. "I'm Renee Bessette."

Dragon Lady reluctantly shook it before turning to me. I smiled and stuck out my hand. She didn't take it.

"Kendra Irisavie."

Her scowl deepened.

"I got this, Claudia," a deep voice said.

It belonged to a tall, dark-haired man in his late twenties. Casual clothing showed off a trim, athletic build that balanced the uptight style of his neatly cut hair and black-rimmed glasses. Attractive in a Clark Kent kind of way.

Warm brown eyes landed on Renee and lit up. "Hey, you."

She grinned. "Hello, stranger."

His mouth twitched at her over-the-top accent.

Claudia's face reddened. "You can't have your personal —"

"Please hold my calls," Phillip said smoothly.

We followed him through a maze of cubicles to a private office along the east wall.

Renee quickly introduced us, then gave him a hug. Disappointment flashed through his eyes when she pulled out of his arms.

"You look beautiful."

The yearning on his face reminded me of Julian.

"You look great, too." Renee touched his cheek, eyes soft. "Thanks for seeing us."

Something wistful passed between them. He blinked a few times, then slightly shook his head as if trying to clear it.

"Of course." He settled behind his desk and adopted a business air. "You said something about a recent shipment?"

I handed him the Italian custom documents. "It should've come in on Friday."

Phillip entered the information into his computer. "Paperwork looks okay. Freight departed from a small town in Italy near the French border. It arrived on time and was delivered yesterday morning."

Excitement coursed through me. "Do you have an address?"

He clicked the mouse a few times. "Framer's Alley off Rivington. Place called The Alder Branch."

The missing link snapped into place.

Peter Schlusser's role was to accept deliveries and store art. Yesterday morning, he'd received the latest shipment. Since we found no artifacts at the store, the Aquidae must've taken it after they killed him.

"Any way we can find out what was in it?" Renee asked.

"I'll e-mail you a list of the contents." His mouth quirked up into a charming smile. "I don't suppose you plan on telling me what this was about?"

Renee winked. "Girl secrets."

He laughed, the infectious sound brightening the space. "I don't even want to know."

I smiled. "Are you at Rivelleu?"

I'd been in and out of the community for a month and hadn't seen him.

He shook his head. "Rogue."

"You didn't want to be a chevalier?"