Revelations: Book One of the Lalassu (5 page)

Chapter Eight

The smoky, rundown bar called Last Down barely clung to the edge of the Perdition city limits. It was the home of the desperate and the parasites who fed off them and would have required extensive renovations to qualify as a dive, except for the bank of state-of-the-art televisions mounted on the walls. They showed everything from dog races to an ESPN feed—no bet too small or too large.

Bracing herself, she sauntered into the bar as if she owned it. It had been six years since Dani last set foot inside the wretched bar and inhaled its ingrained stench of cheap liquor, stale cigarette smoke, and toner ink. Not long enough, in her opinion, but this was where her brothers’ journey had begun. The jacket fragment and the invisible man would both wait until she’d searched the more traditional routes.

A few patrons blinked in surprise before hastily turning back to their private machines. The mix of ex-jocks, strung-out gambling addicts, and slovenly couch-coaches all added a cloying layer of grasping desperation to the fetid air. In her fitted leather jacket and tight pants, she did not fit the typical clientele. Unusual people tended to be potentially inconvenient at best or dangerous at worst. The patrons here knew that it paid not to pay attention.

“Hey there, Chomp. Long time.” Dani sat down next to a paunchy man in a bright Hawaiian shirt. He’d been nursing a beer and eagerly avoiding making eye contact with her, but her brothers had come to him, and now it was her turn. It took effort for Dani to remain relaxed and not grit her teeth.

“They’re not here, Dani.” Chomp might have been attempting to play cool, but his pale skin and the biting scent of his terror gave him away. “They haven’t been here in weeks.”

Disgust tugged Dani’s lip downward.
Vincent and his fucking “system” to make easy money.
She’d refused to have anything more to do with bailing him out or asking for extensions from people who used body parts as loan collateral. Her disgust deepened as Chomp sneaked glances at her breasts despite the high-necked T-shirt she’d worn precisely to avoid this particular situation.

The Huntress uncoiled inside, aware of nearby prey. Dani fought it down, relieved when it settled without the usual struggle, still sated from the previous night. “I’m not happy, Chomp. Can you guess why?” Frustration made her tone sharper than she’d initially intended, and her quarry’s eyes leapt back to her face. Those closest to them gathered their things and scuttled away to more remote areas of the bar.

“I’m sure we can work this out.” He licked his lips. “Your brothers are good men—”

“Not in the mood,” she growled through clenched teeth. “What did you tell my brothers?”

Chomp raised his hands in the universal symbol of surrender. “Look, I haven’t done anything—”

“First lie.” Dani’s hand shot out, clamping on Chomp’s neck. Her fingers dug deep into his oily skin to get a good grip. She needed him alive and conscious and talking.

Bam!
The cheap wood veneer on the bar splintered as she slammed his head down.

“Ahh! Not the head! Not the head!” Chomp wailed, pressing meaty palms to the blood oozing from his forehead. The doors slammed repeatedly as the bar emptied. No one wanted to be collateral damage.

“Want to go for lie number two? What did you tell them?” Dani’s fingers curled around his neck. She would need to scrub for a week to get his dingy oil out of her skin. The knowledge did not improve her temper.

“You need to be more specific—” Chomp squealed in pain as Dani’s foot smashed into his knee.

“I am not in the fucking mood to play games, Chomp!” she threatened.
He set my brothers up…

“Then maybe you should leave.” A massive hand clamped on her shoulder and pulled her away.

Dani looked up. And up at the massive hulk of man-flesh glaring down at the two of them.

“What the hell am I paying you for? She hit me! Twice!” Chomp whined. His piggish eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. The stench of fear still stung her nose, but gleeful pride started to swell up. He was proud of his little giant of a bodyguard. He thought it would keep him safe.

Men. Always thinking size matters
.

“It’s time for you to leave. Now,” Hulk informed her.

Chomp smelled eager, and he’d settled in tight to watch his goon attack.

“All right, big guy. I wasn’t looking for trouble.” Dani smiled, flashing her dimples. Immediately, Hulk’s grip loosened on her coat.
Good. If he’d ripped it, I’d have to kill him.

She spread her arms, incidentally giving both men a good eyeful of her tight T-shirt. “How about a little bet? A coin toss. I lose, I’ll go right now. I win, I get to ask my questions and you buy me a drink. Deal?”

Chomp’s rapid exhalation sent a sharp spike of anxiety up her nose, but from the male interest suddenly rising from Hulk, she’d gotten his attention with her proposal. Despite having seen her attack Chomp not five minutes earlier, he was dismissing her as no threat and seeing a potential conquest instead.
I hate doing this.
She could practically watch his brain cells reach their final conclusion. He was going to try to be charming.

Some vestige of self-protection remained. “I toss the coin.”

“No trouble at all.” She winked. “I’ll even let you call it.”

He let go of her to dig a coin out of his pocket, grinning as if he already had a mental strip reel going. He jerked his hand up and the coin glittered as it flipped in the air. “Heads.”

“Any way you want it.” Dani watched as his eyes tracked the coin, her knees bent and hands loose. She might only get one shot at this.

The coin spun and bounced on the bar before settling. Hulk bent over to see what it was and Dani struck. Her foot lashed up and her heel smashed solidly into his temple with a meaty crack. He jerked back, losing his balance, eyes wide in surprise.

Chomp let out an odd mix of a wail and groan, scrambling away from his would-be protection.

“You did say heads, right?” Dani grinned, punching straight from the shoulder and snapping Hulk’s head back hard enough that his teeth clicked together. She could do this all day, especially with the Huntress seeping encouragement into her veins. For once, she and her demon were in perfect agreement. This idiot needed a lesson, and she needed to release some of her frustrations in a good old-fashioned, completely justified ass kicking.

Hulk struggled to stand, the arousal she’d scented earlier replaced with rage, suggesting that visions of murder had replaced his mental pornography. She’d humiliated him in front of others, shown that his massive size alone didn’t make him a fighter. He didn’t want to dominate her now. He wanted to kill her.

Stand in line, asswit.
It was delightfully simple. She channeled all of her frustration and fear about her brothers into teaching this steroid-enthusiast the error of judging a fighter by her appearance.

His first blow was a haymaker that could have rung her ears if she hadn’t seen it coming a mile away. She dodged with ease, clucking contemptuously from the side as he overbalanced and wavered.

He charged again.
If this is the best you have
… Boredom replaced any sense of satisfaction from the fight. This was more like dealing with a toddler’s tantrum than a battle of equals.

The patrons had long since scattered like rats. Hulk tried to smash her into the floor with his fists. As she rolled out of the way and back onto her feet, movement attracted her attention: Chomp disappearing into the back.
Crapfuck! Like a damn cockroach
. No more time for games.

“This time, I’d fucking stay down if I were you.” She swept Hulk’s legs out from under him, sending him flat on his ass again with a resounding thud. A solid punch to his skull left him limp on the floor. Spinning, she sprinted after Chomp, catching him as he fumbled with the back door.

“Why are you doing this to me? I sell information! It’s how I earn my beer money! You don’t have to hit me!” he babbled, the stench of terror almost covering the first hints of urine.

“What did you tell Vincent and Eric, Chomp?” Dani growled, hoisting the rotund man off his feet. “Where did you send them?”

“I didn’t tell them anything! I swear! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You got them a job. Three weeks ago.” She tightened her grip on his collar.

“What? Oh, yeah. They brought it to me. Bodyguard work. It was legit, they wanted some help with the background checks,” he whimpered. There was no scent of deceit, only terror with faint whiffs of irritation.

“Guess again. It was a trap.” Fresh fury ignited in her, setting her hands trembling with the urge to strike. The idiot hadn’t even known he was setting her brothers up.

“Oh God, oh God.” Chomp swallowed hard as if about to vomit. He didn’t know all her family’s secrets, but he knew enough to recognize danger. “Forgive and forget” was not in their vocabulary. “I didn’t know. It looked legit, I swear. The company wanted military veterans, so I hooked your brothers up with papers.”

Chomp’s little network of connections and criminals had provided everything. She wished her brothers had worked with her family’s usual forgers instead, but Eric hadn’t wanted their parents to know. “Give me copies of what you gave them.”

“I don’t have them here. They’re at home. Please, I’ll get them and bring them to you. No charge.”

Her sharp ears caught the sound of sirens pulsing shrilly, drawing closer. Time to wind up and slip back under the radar. There was no trace of deception and the stench of cringing fear was overpowering. Chomp would do what she needed.

He slid down the wall as she let him go, unable to support his own weight. Disgusted, Dani stepped away.
A legitimate job
—the one thing they had all been told would never be possible. A forbidden dream she and Eric shared. She’d found one and her brother had obviously tried the same.
It’s supposed to be fucking simple.
Everyone else in the world manages it. Why not us?

“You know, I liked it a lot better when you used to flash your tits at me,” Chomp muttered under his breath as he straightened his clothes. He probably believed she was too far away to hear him.

Bad guess. She didn’t even realize she’d hit him until the ache in her knuckles penetrated her rage. Chomp must have dropped after the first blow, but she’d kept on punching the wall, leaving a web of cracks in the cinderblock. Dust clung to her swollen hands. Chomp lay on the floor at her feet, not moving, blood staining his thinning hair.
Oh shit. I better not have killed him.
His pulse thumped regularly under her fingers.
Unconscious. Damn, means I have to wait for him to wake up.

“Freeze! Stay where you are.”

Dani held still. Maybe she could take them out before they shot her, but unlike Hulk, police had schedules, partners, and check-ins—too much attention. Besides, without the Huntress’s influence she didn’t much enjoy hurting people for no good reason. Drawing a deep breath, she prepared herself. No matter how far she tried to run from her past, it always pulled her down.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

She turned, slowly, smiling widely enough to flash her dimples. “What seems to be the trouble, officer?”

Chapter Nine

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Michael.” Joe Cabrera sighed, fiddling with his shield and identification.

“There has to be something. A restraining order or an injunction. They said we sent them, but Celina’s never heard of them.”

Michael had come directly to the police station after hitting a brick wall as he tried to find out anything about the treatment center. There were websites for the centers in California, and people answered the phones politely enough when he called. They were more than happy to share the results of their special blend of treatments. They were sending him information packets. Referral websites loved them, parents raved. He couldn’t find any trace of what he had seen was happening there. He’d hoped Joe could advise him on a legal way to prevent Bernie from being taken there. The busy squad room was full of cops doing paperwork, talking to minor offenders. Michael retreated to a corner to avoid emotional contamination, keeping his gloves on.

“Based on what? The testimony of a mentally disturbed child who suffers from hallucinations and has never actually been to the place in question?” Joe spread his hands. “Even if they lied to the mom about who sent them, my hands are tied. There’s no evidence I can use. Unless you think the mom is unfit…?”

Michael shook his head. Even if it had been true, it would only put Bernie in foster care, which would be even worse. He ground his teeth. He’d hoped Joe would have some solution he hadn’t seen, some way to keep Bernie home without tipping his hand.

“I’m sorry, man, but all I can do is file a report about your concerns. Then it’s on record, at least. I don’t like it any more than you do. I trust you, but I can’t go to a judge and say my friend touched a brochure and now he knows this treatment place is hurting kids.” Joe threw the brochure down on his desk. Michael knew his friend’s frustration was at not being able to help, not his request.

“No. I get it.” Michael pushed his hair back from his face, wondering if he should cut it before shoving the thought aside.
Where can I go from here?

“Find me something. Anything. Something I can use.”

He nodded, his mind already busy searching for alternatives. Maybe he could visit the place himself.

Joe reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hey, be careful. Don’t get yourself hurt or dead or anything. I’d hate to have to write up that paperwork.” Rough concern, frustration, and the desire to help seeped through the contact.

Michael smiled. Joe might not want to know all his friend’s secrets, but he would crawl through fire to help if he could. “I’ll do my best.”

“Damn straight. Look, why don’t we go out tonight? We can talk things out, maybe figure out some shit.”

Michael was about to agree when he noticed a growing group at the front of the station. “What’s going on?”

“Dispatch said they were bringing in some people from a fight at Last Down. Two guys went to the hospital and the team brought in the only suspect who didn’t scuttle back into the shadows.” Joe gestured toward the door with a handful of files. “They must be taking her statement.”

Michael spotted her and forgot what he was going to say.

The woman emerging from the ring of uniformed cops was indescribably unique and impossibly familiar: the woman from the club. He couldn’t believe she was actually there in front of him. Even with her hands pinned behind her in handcuffs, she looked as if she were in control. Long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, and big dark eyes laughed and flirted with those around her. The smile lurking in the corners of her lips suggested a certain jaded amusement, as though nothing could shock or discourage her. She was tall, and her tight jeans and T-shirt flaunted her statuesque figure. She carried herself with grace and ease, as if the cuffs were only fringe jewelry and her escort a matter of honor rather than detention.

“Earth to Michael. Wipe the drool off your chin,” Joe teased, thwacking him lightly with a file to get his attention. “Not that I’m blaming you.”

Details of the conversation slowly swam back into his brain.
Bar. Hospital. Suspect. Assault.
They led him to an uncomfortable conclusion. He was unable to look away as one of the officers removed the cuffs and escorted her to a desk. “You think she did it?”

Joe paused, riffling the file in his hand while he thought. “Hard to believe. From what I heard, those guys looked like a truck hit them. No one hits that hard. Besides, she came along easy enough. Not like she tried to hide.”

The woman ran her hand down the officer’s arm, smiling at him.

“You want to go over and ask her name?” Joe was grinning.

“Wouldn’t that be an ethical violation?” Michael couldn’t get his mouth to stop spouting whatever went through his dazed brain.

“If
I
asked her, it would be a cop-suspect thing. But you’re a free civilian, entitled to pick up women in any situation you like, no matter how weird. Be a hell of a story to tell your grandkids.” Joe shifted his voice to imitate a piping five-year-old. “Tell us how you met Grandma.” Then, lower again, “Well, son, it was like this. She was arrested for assault and—”

“Actually I don’t think she’s being arrested,” Michael interrupted, keeping his attention on his mystery woman. She was standing up, collecting her bag and leather jacket from the officer. Winking at the man, she sauntered away from the desk, hips rolling with every step, coming closer.

“Guess she’s not a suspect after all. Hmm, he still should have gotten a statement,” Joe muttered.

Michael’s mouth seemed full of glue, making teeth, tongue, and lips a congealed mess incapable of speech. He wanted her to look at him, to talk to him, and yet he also wanted to stay in the background and not come off as a blithering idiot. She was only a few steps away, then one step. Still no notice of him.

She swept past without a glance in their direction. Michael bit his lip as a frustrating mix of relief and disappointment weighed him down. But he still couldn’t take his eyes off her… which was how he noticed the tube of lipstick that bounced out of her bag and rolled onto the floor. Michael bent automatically to pick it up and froze as images pounded his brain even through his leather gloves.

Every single one was of her face. Winking, smiling, lips thinned in determination, turning a corner, glancing up. Her features slammed into his brain again and again along with an irresistible magnetic pull.

This way.

I’m supposed to follow her?
He’d never gotten a flash so cryptic and so clear at the same time. The perfume of jasmine and oranges lingered in the air.

“Man, you okay?” Joe bent down to help him up. “She wasn’t that hot… oh crap, you just got some woo-woo shit off her stuff, didn’t you?”

Michael nodded. The woman pushed open the doors to leave, and his head throbbed in time with her every movement. “Sorry, but I think I have to go.”

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of creepy weird shit. Good luck and keep me posted.”

Sprinting to catch up, Michael spotted her sliding into a cab. A thrill tingled along his nerves and brain. Helping a beautiful, mysterious woman just like a hero in a detective story, exactly the sort of thing he’d always dreamed about doing with his gift. Racing down the steps, he leapt into the next taxi in the queue and uttered a line he never thought he’d get a chance to say.

“Follow that cab!”