Remedy Maker (41 page)

Shit. Gamoto. Hell.

“She’s forcing me to—” A sob broke through and the pretty Nymph with hair the color of dry summer grass went down on her knees, crying softly.

“Let her go.” Rhy aimed the gun’s barrel at Pennelope.

She dropped the leash immediately and stepped toward a male, who pushed her protectively toward the cave opening.

The man lowered his brows over pale blue eyes as he backed away, hustling Pennelope behind him as he went. “What the hell does it matter to you?” he said, gesturing to the half-naked girl in the dirt. “And what do you care? For fuck’s sakes, it’s only a Nymph.”

Rhycious wasn’t so blind that he didn’t see the man inching his hand to the back of his waist. It didn’t matter if the other man pulled a gun, knife,
or a fucking bazooka
. He’d get two shots off faster than the guy could take aim.

And he’d take out that bitch, Pennelope, in the process.

He motioned with the pistol. “Last chance. Back away and live, or stay and die. You have five seconds.”

*    *    *

Smith and Wesson in hand, Nubbs stood in the cave entryway looking down at Serenity kneeling in the dirt and rocks. She was crumbling from the inside out. He’d seen it before, where the fright ate the guts right out of a person. That’s what was happening inside the cave. Fear was eating Serenity’s guts out.
Rhycious should be ashamed
.

He shifted his attention back to the gun in his hand and cleared his throat.

“What the hell are you doing, Rhycious?” he demanded, when the Remedy Maker glanced his way. He was just about finished screwing around with amateur sleuths. “And why in the hell did I just see eighteen goddamn males run out of the goddamn cave with white faces and full pockets? Why is that? Pennelope?”
And why in the hell is there a male standing next to you, protecting you, like he owns you?

There was a lengthy, suitable pause before Rhycious came up with a question of his own.

“You’re into Wood Nymph trafficking now, Nubbs?”

“There’s Serenity, Rhycious. The Nymph, Serenity. Your girlfriend’s sister, right?”

Another long pause followed.

The Centaur bounced his gaze between the tied-up girl and the gun trained on him. “I’ve never met her before.”

“I’m Pay’s sister, Serenity.” Tear-streaked cheeks and pleading eyes begged from her submissive position.

“One of my sales breaking up early, with customers scattering like rabbits—that makes me look bad, Pennelope. Real bad. And you’re the gal who brought this shit on. You’re the one responsible for this, Pennelope. So what are you going to do about it?”

The Troll dipped her head and looked away. “I don’t know, Nubbs.”

That’s what I thought, that Pennelope the Troll didn’t know Shinola about crapola
—
and I’m stuck cleaning up the mess
. He had guys running all over tonight, and this auction was already a wash.

Nubbs wouldn’t bet a rat’s ass on Pennelope getting out of Boronda in one piece. The Troll’s timing was astounding—astoundingly
bad
. To show up at the cave, openly selling a Nymph for sex, just after insurgents had been stirred up and worked over.

And the bidding had already begun.
Gods.
Talk about walking right into the middle of things. Rhycious probably had things to do and people to save, and rescuing Nymphs going for five thousand bucks a pop wasn’t one of them.

Shit.
What a fucking mess.

He couldn’t let Pennelope go. Not for the fact she’d run, and not for the mess of letting the bitch go, especially when things were starting to go his way—except for the trafficking. Nubbs needed her to give him that damn name at the top of his competition’s list.

“What are you doing here, Rhycious? You pick up a goddamn gun from some backwoods overbite and suddenly you’re Doc Holliday?”

“What the hell is going on here, Nubbs?”

The pharmacist of flowers had no idea what he’d just walked into. Nubbs didn’t want to explain logistics to a civilian. He had a load of imported Water Nymphs headed this way, and he needed the name of the goddamn head smuggling honcho, and he needed his goddamn location. So where was his carefully orchestrated plan?

Fucked in the ass, that’s where.

What he needed was a short cut. He grinned. A damn straight line from A to B.

Time to cut the bullshit.

“Do you understand what was going on here, Rhycious? Do you?” He turned away from the nasty end of Rhy’s gun, keeping his own pointed at the unknown male who stood silently next to the Troll, and walked closer across the uneven ground.

“This female, Serenity, was being auctioned off to the highest bidder. Why?” Rhycious asked.

Nubbs ignored the question. “You need to take the Nymph and get the hell out of here. I want you so far gone that if there were screams, you’d never hear them.”

Rhycious gave him a hard look, but nodded and headed for Serenity, who had managed to wad herself up into a pathetic ball on the ground.

Nubbs unbuttoned his overshirt with what was left of his fingers. He had it all over Rhycious in the wardrobe department, so donating an undercover garment seemed the least he could do. Still holding the gun, prepared to pull the trigger, he held the shirt out.

“Here, put this on her.”

When the good doctor had Serenity untied, dressed, and standing up, Nubbs decided it was lights out for the Troll’s friend, Mr. Silent. He stepped forward and pistol-whipped the guy across the face before he knew what hit him. The male crumpled like a marionette whose strings were cut.

Confident Pennelope wouldn’t try something stupid, like take off, he turned to Rhycious and the filthy Nymph.

“After the war, Queen Savella ordered me to keep an eye on the civilians and integrate with them. I report directly to her with what goes on outside the palace walls and inside the Boronda underground. For twenty years I’ve staked out this fucking rat hole. Twenty long fucking years. In less than an hour, you manage to flush the toilet on all my investigations, leads, and informants. All for a Nymph and her sister.” He glanced at his watch—it was coming up on transition time—and looked back at Rhycious. “I’m damned tempted to kill you myself and blame it on human hunters.”

The guy vibrated he was so mad, but Nubbs figured Rhycious would hold on. He'd seen guys hold on for a blasphemous amount of time, guys who'd been through a lot more than a mythic auction. The way the Centaur stared at him made Nubbs think there’d been some mental damage along the dusty trail.

Rhycious spoke, his teeth clenched. A facial tic took up residency on his face. “I take it you won’t assist in ridding the forest of the scum, then?”

Un-fucking-believable
.
Didn’t I answer that question before it was asked?

“No. I refuse to protect one single mythological creature when the forest, in its entirety, is in danger.” Nubbs couldn’t believe the audacity of the civilian populace. What did they think he did all day? Pick flowers and dry them?

Oh wait, that was the Remedy Maker’s job.

Mental damage
, Nubb thought,
and hell, isn’t that just the way it goes sometimes
.

Nubbs gave Rhycious a long hard look, and the Centaur returned it just as strongly. “Get out of here,” he said to the Nymph and her new escort. “Have her sister hold her hand while Dendron takes a look at her. That old fart’ll know what to do.”

He let the pair slip almost away before calling out one last time. “Your herbs worked on my stomach, by the way. Thank you. In return, I’ll relay everything that’s happened to Aleksander. Will he know how to find you later?” At Rhycious’s nod, Nubbs added, “I hope for your sake that’ll be enough. You understand why I can’t help more.”

When Rhycious and Serenity left, he walked over to where Pennelope waited leaning against the cave wall and staring at the empty dog collar and leash.

Upon his arrival, she had dumped the accessories in a winding pile on the floor next to the unconscious male. From what Nubbs could perceive, it didn’t look like she was any too happy to see him.

Wives,
Nubbs thought. He’d been married to the Troll for thirteen years. For over a hundred and fifty years of working undercover for Savella, he’d never taken on a partner until Pennelope, his nagging wife, had talked him into it. He’d bet his pension he was going to wish he hadn’t taken her on—not in this place.

Thirty-One

Rhycious gripped Serenity’s arm, helping her balance so she wouldn’t slide down the hill. In the distance came the sharp rapport of a small caliber handgun. The forest fell silent.

“What was that?” Serenity slowed, her head turning in the direction of the sound.

If it weren’t for the difference in speech, he might have mistaken Serenity’s voice for Patience.

Longing to see his little Nymph, to hold her and make sure she was safe, smoldered within him. He fought the urgency to move out in double-time. After all Serenity had been through, he didn’t want to push her.

Over his shoulder, he scanned the Manzanita growing on the far slope. “Sounded like gun fire.” He put his hand on the middle of her back and gave a gentle nudge forward. “Keep going. We don’t want any part of it.”

The gun he’d taken from the human tucked hard and unforgiving at the small of his back. While the weapon gave a measure of security, he didn’t want any trouble.

“Do you think Nubbs just blew Pennelope away?”

“By Bacchus’s very breath, I hope so. But it could have been a hunter shooting game.”
Or someone else.

As if she thought along those same lines, Serenity snorted her opinion. “Or a
hunter
shooting Pennelope.” She picked her way over a pile of loose rock, her sandaled feet taking a beating. “Maybe Nubbs just shot the Troll’s boyfriend in the cave. Or maybe the boyfriend shot them both.” She didn’t have any qualms letting him know her thoughts about Pennelope.

Discovering the king of Boronda’s black market worked for Queen Savella surprised the hell out of Rhy. Having fucked up a stakeout that’d been going on for a quarter century should have been awful enough. But in his usual dick-headed style, he had to go OCD and scatter the suspects, hurling the entire Boronda Forest into danger.

He rubbed a fist over his chest in a soothing circle, trying to dissipate the tightness. There’s nothing like knowing you, and you alone, were responsible for hauling in the shit that hits the fan.

Not just, but such.
Four days ago at the cabin, he’d said those very words to Alek when he’d called him an ass. The observation was appropriate for Rhycious today.
Not just a fuck-up, but such a fuck-up.

“How do you know Patience? And why’d that Centaur, Nubbs, say she was your girlfriend?”

“Let’s get across this clearing first, and then I’ll tell you.”

With the slope at their backs, the sun’s warm rays began to fade behind the hill. The familiar tickling itch at the base of his spine signaled his true form was about to emerge.

Past the treeline’s edge sat several boulders grouped together in a congenial arrangement. Rhycious walked toward the natural benches and unbuckled the scabbard from his waist.

He laid the weapon on the taller of the flat rocks and gestured for her to have a seat. “My name is Rhycious,” he began, propping a foot next to his sword and unlacing his boot. “I met your sister when she was brought to my cabin unconscious last week.”

Was that only last week?
He stuffed his sock into his boot, dropped it to the ground, and started on the other foot.

“Is Pay all right?” The Nymph straightened, her eyebrows knitting together.

His second boot followed the first and he tied the laces together. “She’s better, but Dendron and I are working on a solution to her health problems.” Rhycious straightened and moved to stand out of sight behind the boulders, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“You’re a Centaur, right?” Her eyes tracked his movement in the fading light. Nubbs’s oversized shirt hung off her slim shoulders and she bunched the excess material in a fist at her chest.

“Yes, I am. I’m also our herd’s remedy maker.” His fingers hovered at the top button of his fatigues. “Um, I need to . . . change. I’m not going anywhere, but I’ll be right back. Excuse me.”

The pants were coming down when he dropped his ass to the dirt. He’d barely gotten them off before his ten toes turned into four hooves. The gravelly dirt felt good against his hide and he longed to have a first-rate roll.

Serenity spoke to him, her voice floating over the rocks. “So, are you her boyfriend . . . or something?”

What was it Patience called me?
“I’m a
tight friend
of hers,” he answered in a dry tone, standing up.

Serenity’s laughter rang out. “Oh my gods, that sounds like her.”

He could tell she was curious about his new appearance by the way she leaned surreptitiously, hoping to see around the boulders. The four-beat pattern of his hooves clopped to where he’d left his sword. Strapping the scabbard on and gathering his boots, they faced one another.

She wore a silly grin, reminiscent of Patience. A dark mole kissed the left side of Serenity’s mouth. Patience had the same mole at the outer corner of her right brow.

“If you’re up to it, I can take you to Patience tonight.” Rolling his pants up, he packed them away in his grab bag. She seemed hardy enough, even after being held against her will. And gods knew what else she’d been through. He slid the gun under the scabbard’s cinch in front of him.

“The further away from here I get, the better.” Pushing back her dirty hair, she eyed his hair band. “You got another rubber band on you?” He dug in his bag and handed her one. “Thanks. And . . . Rhycious?”

He stopped adjusting the throwing stars in his munitions vest and looked at her.

“Thanks.” She took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed. “For rescuing me. I tried so many times to escape. They started locking me in a cage.”