Tracking the Tempest (7 page)

Ryu gave me a long look, the look he always gave me when he was about to tell me something about the supernatural world he knew I wouldn't like.

“We do have methods of incarceration, yes. And sometimes we use them, usually for those of high status who've done something that can't be ignored but also can't be treated… normally.”

“And the ‘normal' treatment?”

Ryu pursed his lips, and I knew what he was going to say. So I said it for him.

“You just kill them, don't you?” The leap to execution wasn't a long one; after all, I'd seen Orin and Morrigan, Ryu's king and queen, condemn Jimmu to death in front of me without even consulting one another.

Ryu shrugged.

“I'd think the fact that Conleth was abandoned and raised in a laboratory would serve as ‘mitigating factors' in your decision as to whether or not you just kill the guy—”

“Jane, he's vicious. Yeah, he's suffered. But it's made him an animal. There's nothing there to be saved, Florence.”

“That could have been
me
, Ryu. What if I'd been caught in the Sow as a child and ended up in a lab? Would I just be one more loose end?”

Ryu snorted. “You're nothing like Conleth, babe. The comparison isn't even close to accurate.”

“Yeah, but I had a loving father who took care of me. Who knows what I'd be like if I'd had Conleth's life. I mean, can you imagine what he must have gone through…”

Ryu's strong hands stilled at my words.

“Jane, you do realize you're defending the guy who just tried to kill both of us. Conleth is a monster.”

“Maybe he is, Ryu, but he was
made
a monster.”

Ryu shifted me over and then drew me out of bed. “Come with me,” he said.

I pulled on my underpants and his discarded dress shirt before following him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Ryu was already in his office waiting for me with a file folder. My breath whooshed out of my body as he used a central table to spread out pictures of various crime scenes. I withdrew my eyes from the gruesome montage of twisted, blackened bodies.

“Conleth killed nine people when he escaped from his laboratory. Under such circumstances, however, extreme actions could, perhaps, be excused. Then he went after various employees of the laboratory. Again, revenge might have been understandable. But he was killing
anyone
associated with the lab. Not just the scientists, but a janitor. A secretary. A parking lot attendant. Their
families
, if they were in the house with the victim. At some point during this spree, he discovered the identity of his true parents. That's when he killed his human mother, her human husband, and their three teenaged children. His half siblings. Burned the house down while they slept.” Ryu pointed to a photo. I glanced at it only long enough to see the huddled, blackened figures before I had to look away or be sick.

“Then he went after his ifrit father. And then he just started killing any supernatural being he could get his hands on. Three beings, total. He did all of this in two weeks, Jane. Two. Then he disappeared. We figured he'd gotten his revenge and had hightailed it. That he'd disappeared into the Borderlands or had become some other Territory's problem. We were wrong.”

I steeled myself to look at the photo. There were prone figures everywhere. Conleth wasn't a serial killer; he was a massacre on legs.

I walked out of the office and into Ryu's kitchen, where I pulled a glass down and filled it with water from the tap. I drank half of it and then placed the glass in the sink. When I turned around, Ryu was leaning back against his granite island, watching me.

“One of those pictures looked suspiciously like an exploded Porsche.”

He gave me a wry smile. “I told you I had an accident.”

“When did Conleth try to kill you?”

“Right before he disappeared. That's why I didn't say anything. I figured the threat was gone, no reason to frighten you.”

I frowned. I hated when Ryu coddled me. I knew I was half human and ignorant of many things in Ryu's world, but I wasn't a child.

“How close did you get to capturing him?”

“Not very. He's extraordinarily powerful. And he
can do things I've never seen before. The way he travels, it's like a fucking comet. I've never seen anything
like him.”

I fell silent, as I finally began to put together everything that had happened tonight and what it meant for me and for Ryu.

“He obviously still wants you dead,” I said to my lover. He only nodded.

“That's not what I'm worried about, though. I'm worried that Conleth saw
you
.”

“He wouldn't come after me, would he?”

Ryu frowned. “I don't know, baby. But there's a good chance he would if he could, either to get to me or because he thinks you're a pureblood.”

I mulled over the implications of Ryu's words before speaking. “What are our options, then?”

“Well, you could stay here. I could protect you, but you're also guaranteed to be a target. Or we smuggle you back to Rockabill, but set Nell to watch over you.” Ryu shrugged ruefully. “I hate to say it, but you're safest with her.”

He read the doubt on my face before it could be articulated.

“I know you find it difficult to take Nell seriously, but you should. I've told you about how powerful a gnome is, and I know you've felt her strength. And that's just her doing her daily thing. Imagine her pissed off.”

“It's not Nell, Ryu. I don't like the idea of leaving you like this, knowing there's some loony tune out to get you.”

“I know, Jane. And I appreciate that. But, really, what can you do?”

“I'm not completely inept,” I said drily. “I came in quite handy the last time we were being stalked by a killer, remember.”

“I know, babe. But this is different. We didn't understand the threat to you when we went to the Compound before. Had I known Jimmu was behind everything, I wouldn't have delivered you right to him, believe me.”

“But what if Conleth does follow me back to Rockabill? I'm not as worried about myself as I am about my family, my friends.”

“Nell will understand how serious it is. I'll make sure she has everything covered.”

My frown grew. Nell might be strong, but she was only one person. Er, gnome.

“Plus, there's Trill—” My face went deadpan at Ryu's suggestion. I loved the kelpie, and she was an awesome swimming partner, but really? Sitting ducks were tougher.

“Ryu, my dad and my human friends are totally vulnerable…”

“Okay, fine. I'll call Anyan. Will that make you happy?”

I blinked at the edge in his voice. “Ryu, this isn't about me getting my jollies. This is about me protecting the people I love. I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone, to start with. And I really don't like the idea that I may be bringing some fiery harbinger of death back to Rockabill. So yeah, I would feel better if I knew Nell had some backup and I would appreciate if you did call Anyan, or whoever else you think could do the job.”

I could tell that Ryu still wasn't pleased, but he forced his face into a neutral expression.

“I know, Jane. And I'm sorry you got dragged into this. Con doesn't have any way of finding you, that I can think of, once you're out of Boston. So you should be safe. In the meantime, I'll make sure you're protected. No matter what.”

I went to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I know, baby. And I'm sorry we have to cut our visit short.”

“Not as sorry as I am, honey,” he said, as he lowered his face to mine and kissed me soundly. And I knew he meant it. It sucked that I had to leave. But I couldn't be ticked off at the fact that we were attacked, or ticked off that our time together had been short. That was unfair to Ryu. I wasn't dating an accountant, after all. I knew what Ryu did for a living; hell, we'd met because Ryu did what he did and I'd seen, firsthand and from the get-go, that what he did was dangerous. So I couldn't turn around now and wish he drove a cab or sat in some cubicle somewhere.

So I squished down my disappointment and put on my happy face. Okay, I really put on my horny face but, with Ryu, those were pretty much one and the same.

“I wouldn't bet on that,” I purred. “I've been dying to try this thing Iris told me about, but we would need one of those bouncy castles, at least fifteen feet of aluminum siding, and lots of canola oil. So we'd need time to source the raw materials…”

Ryu's elegantly expressive eyebrows arched and my already frisky libido perked up in Pavlovian response.

“Funnily enough, I just happen to have a bouncy castle in my spare bedroom,” he said. Then I squealed as he picked me up in a fireman's carry. He started off toward the stairs and then stopped and walked back to the kitchen, turning around so I was facing one of his cupboards.

“Do you really have a bouncy castle?” I wheezed, my diaphragm rather compressed by Ryu's shoulder.

“No. But I'm sure we can think of something… because you know what they say, right?”

“No, what?”

“The couple that bounces together, stays together.”

“Is that scientific fact?” I giggled, wheezily.

“I dunno. But we can certainly experiment. Now reach out and grab the canola oil from that cupboard, will ya?” I blinked, then extended my arm.

If this was Ryu's version of scientific experimentation, I was perfectly willing to be the control.

CHAPTER SEVEN

S
o Linda Allen comes in with her dad and is being absolutely awful,” Tracy told Grizzie as I sat there blushing. Grizzie had been off on one of her mystery jaunts when I got back from Boston, and she'd just returned that morning. So Tracy was filling Griz in on what she'd missed while I quashed down my desire to ask where the fuck she'd gone.

“As usual,” Grizzie chimed in, giving me a conspiratorial wink as she settled down in the seat next to me with her coffee. Traffic through the store was dead that day, so we were all sitting at one of the café tables, enjoying a little three o'clock latte action.

“Linda's ignoring Jane, even though I'm making the coffee. She's just standing there, clutching her book and staring over Jane's head. Even Mr. Allen is looking at Linda like ‘What the hell?'

“Jane reaches for the book, cool as a cucumber, and says, ‘I can help you.' Linda
still
tries to ignore Jane, until Mr. Allen yells at her.

“Jane rings her up and Linda's futzing with that silly Prada bag she's been showing off like she gave birth to the Messiah and he's contained within—”

At that, Grizzie had to interrupt. “If that thing is real Prada, I'm a goddamned virgin…”

Tracy laughed. “Just wait! You're stealing Jane's thunder!”

“Sorry, passion flower,” Grizzie apologized to her lover. “And sorry, Jane,” she said, wrapping a long arm around me.

“So she's huffing and pawing through that enormous purse, saying to the people behind her, and I quote, ‘My Prada is just sooooooooo big!‘” Grizzie snorted out a laugh and I couldn't help but giggle at Tracy's impression.

“First time Linda's said
that
; otherwise she wouldn't be such a cunt,” Grizzie murmured, causing me to choke on my coffee as Tracy got to the punchline.

“So she finally comes up with her wallet and pays for her book. As she's putting her stuff away, Jane says, ‘By the way, Linda. The people at Prada are not ‘mad in China,' pointing at the label inside that damned purse. Which, sure enough, says M
AD
I
N
C
HINA
. I nearly died. Then Jane goes for the kill with, ‘They're perfectly content in Italy.’”

“I
knew
it was a knockoff!” Grizzie crowed, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

“It was amazing. I nearly applauded.” Tracy sighed happily before she nodded toward me. “And she's growing out her bangs,” Tracy added.

I fidgeted as Grizzie smiled at Tracy knowingly.

“Our little Jane is growing up,” Grizzie said, reaching both hands over the table toward her partner's. “Next thing we know, she'll be barefoot and pregnant.”

I gave my best friends two friendly middle fingers, and then, embarrassed by the attention, I nervously pulled out my ponytail in order to fix it up tighter. When Grizzie hissed, I cursed as I realized my mistake.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?” she demanded. “Some of it's…
missing
.”

I sighed. I may have emerged from Conleth's Boston attack unscathed, but my hair hadn't. The first time I went to brush it out after the attack, I'd realized that my brush strokes were shorter in the very back. I really needed to get it fixed, but I was afraid a hairdresser would cut
all
of it off, and I'd always had long hair.

That said, I did look like I had an inverse mullet. Plus, my hair was a constant reminder of the awful week I'd just had. When I'd first gotten back to Rockabill, I'd been
terrified
every minute of every day that I was going to get a phone call while at work that my dad had been barbecued, or a phone call at home that Grizzie and Tracy had been torched in their beds. I wasn't big on getting attacked myself, but I was more frightened about my family and friends.

Nell, however, had been a constant presence, popping up in the most unlikely places to give me a little wave of her chubby hand and a reassurance that she'd just checked on everyone. Also, when Ryu hadn't been able to get hold of Anyan, he'd sent Daoud and Caleb back with me. Introduced as friends from college, and glamoured to hell so my dad wouldn't notice Caleb's goatier half, they'd immediately started playing poker with my father and had only stopped to sleep and eat since. Luckily, they played for pennies or I think both supes would have been wiped out financially. They'd assumed a mere human would be easy pickings, until my poker-god father beat them at nearly every hand.

Thankfully, however, there hadn't even been a wisp of smoke to indicate that Conleth was in any way aware of who I was or where I lived. He was definitely still in Boston, taking potshots at Ryu, Stefan, and their deputies whenever he got the chance. But he seemed distracted, or at least not as intent on killing everyone and anyone as he had been the first round. Which made me wonder if he wasn't just trying to come home and going about it in the only bass-ackward, violent way he knew how.

Caleb and Daoud were scheduled to stay another few days, and I did finally feel safe again. So even though I still hated the idea of leaving Ryu behind with a very powerful and very murderous halfling, I felt we'd done the right thing. Ryu didn't have to worry about me, I didn't have to worry about Conleth, and we could get back to “normal” life. For me, that meant training, and for Ryu, that meant chasing down baddies.

And for Grizzie, it meant freaking out about my hair.

“Seriously, what the
fuck
did you do to it? It looks like it's been
burned
. It looks like
shit
…”

“Grizzie!” Tracy barked.

“What?” my ever-so-honest friend whined. “It
does
. I mean, look at it!”

I buried my face in my hands as Grizzie picked up the sizzled bit at my nape and held it up for Tracy to see. Even Tracy was flummoxed.

“We are getting this
fixed
, missy,” Grizzie threatened.

“Griz, no… I'm just going to let it grow out,” I gasped, panicked.

“Hell no. You can't just let that shit grow out. It's
awful
.”

“I know, but I know a hairdresser will just cut it all, and I don't want short hair! So I'm just going to let it grow—”

“Nonsense,” Grizzie snapped, pulling out her cell phone. When I made to protest again, she silenced me with a stern purple look. And a kick to the shins.

“Salim?” she cooed. “I know this is last minute, but I have an emergency. And I mean an E. Merge. En. See. Like of biblical proportions… No, not me. A friend. Thank God!… I know, right? But, yeah, she looks absolutely craptastic… If I get her there in one hour, can you work your magic?… All righty, see you soon… Mwah,” she finished, kissing into the phone.

“C'mon, Jane. Get your coat. We've got to go now to make it to Eastport in time,” Grizzie said, as she stood.

I glared up at her mutinously. “I don't want my hair chopped off!”

“Salim will
fix
it, not chop it off. He's a genius. And you look like a mental patient, Jane. Even more than you did when you
were
a mental patient.”

“Grizzie!” Tracy gasped, throwing me an apologetic look. But I was already giggling.

“You are such a bitch, Griz.” Then I remembered I had a trump card. “Okay, fine,” I said, my voice gone crafty. “I'll go with you to see this Salim person
if
… you tell me where it is you go when you disappear.” I figured I had her there. That was her biggest secret, the thing no one knew besides Tracy. She'd never agree to tell me… .

Grizzie eyed me appraisingly, her lips pursed. Tracy appeared to be holding her breath. Finally Grizzie nodded sharply.

“Fine, Jane. I owe you the truth after all these years. And I've been wanting to talk to you, anyway. We'll kill two birds with one stone. So get your coat.”

Shocked, I did as she told me, trailing behind her to her car. I couldn't believe, after all these years, Grizzie was going to tell me her secrets. The question was…

Could I handle the truth?

The hairy man eyeballed me lasciviously, his full lips slowly pursing into what I think was supposed to be a “come hither” smile. I backed away a step.

“Salim, this is Jane. Her hair is horrifying. Fix her.”

Salim let his eyes rove over Grizzie. Then I watched as they roved over another passing customer. Then they roved over his own image in the mirror, at which time he noticeably sucked in his paunch. Finally, he deigned to return his attention to us.

“Darling. Of course. I will fix your friend.” His gaze again raked over me. “Oh, yes. An hour with Salim and she will be beautiful.” Salim's throaty accent spoke of desert heat, sweet tea poured by soft women, and sex. Tons and tons of insanely raunchy sex. Which was no small feat, considering he was only about three inches taller than my five-foot-one and about as wide across. Masses of chest hair sprang from his half-unbuttoned shirt, flowing up his neck to blend seamlessly with his longish stubble and then spraying out of the top of his head in a thick wave of carefully coiffured jet-black curls.

“Darling. This hair. It is… unfortunate. But Salim make it beautiful. Oh, yes. Do you know Salim's method?”

I shook my head. I hadn't known there'd be a “method” involved.

“First I cut you wet. Then I cut you dry,” Salim said, finally looking me in the eyes. “Have you ever been cut dry before?”

I had no idea what he meant, but I had a funny feeling he wasn't just talking about hair. I responded by doing an ambiguously circular “maybe it's a nod, maybe it's a shake” motion with my head.

Salim clapped his hands sharply and I jumped. “Today. I cut you dry. ALFRED!” he bellowed, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

A large man with a doughy face shuffled over, clearly terrified of the hirsute tyrant standing before me.

“Alfred. Take Jane. Prepare her for me.”

I swear Alfred actually bowed before turning to me with a kind, if harried, expression and nodded toward a row of sinks in the back of the salon. I followed, grateful that my “preparation” only involved a shampoo. At this point, I wasn't sure if Salim had misunderstood my desire for a haircut and was, instead, treating me to a sampling of his patented sexual-harassment treatment.

I was profoundly grateful I wasn't there for a facial.

Alfred's huge hands were clumsy, if gentle, on my head, and he managed to get water all down my back. Scared that Salim would actually beat Alfred in front of me, I vowed to go to my grave keeping my damp skin a secret. Finally, I was returned to where Salim waited for me, standing behind an empty chair. Grizzie sprawled in the chair next to him, her kinky purple catsuit clinging to her surgically enhanced frame.

Upon delivering me, Salim barked something at Alfred in a foreign language and the huge man skittered off.

“My cousin. From Lebanon,” Salim informed me, as he draped me in plastic and began furiously jacking up my chair, his fat little leg pumping like a scratching rabbit. “He's an idiot. But family. Did he get you wet?”

“No,” I replied, reminding myself not to squirm as my soaked shirt pressed against the back of the chair.

“Good. Only I get you wet. Ha!”

Grizzie shrugged her shoulders at me, apologetically, as Salim began moving about my head, peering and poking and pulling. I met her eyes in the mirror, trying to remind her that it was her turn to spill. She smiled.

“Jane wants to know my secret, Salim.”

I pulled a face, unable to believe Grizzie's
hairdresser
knew her secret when I, one of her best friends, did not. But I guess what they say about hairdressers and gynecologists knowing everything about their clients is true.

“Ha!” Salim barked, again, as he began furiously stroking the right side of my head with both hands.

“Should I tell her?”

“Hmm.” The hairy little man shrugged, starting in on my left side.

“Where do I begin?”

“With the money,” he said cryptically, as he pressed my hair down on either side of my face and peered at the both of us in the mirror before backing away to grab his scissors.

“Then the sex,” he continued, making ominous chopping gestures in the empty air.

“Then the love,” he finished, as he dove toward my head and I nearly fainted.

Sheets, torrents,
floods
of hair began to circulate in the air around me as Grizzie began talking.

“The money
is
a good place to start,” Grizzie conceded, obviously gathering herself to embark upon a grand narrative.

“I was not born any of the women you know, Jane. Neither Grizzie, nor Dusty. I was born Amelia Vanderbilt Bathgate. The Amelia is my grandmother's name on my mother's side, as is my middle name.”

My eyes boggled, because of what Grizzie was telling me of her heritage and because I was literally sitting in a sea of my own hair. It was beginning to appear as if “cutting me dry” would end in making me bald.

“Yes, those Vanderbilts. But my Bathgate relations secretly considered them vulgar. Nouveau riche and not all
that
wealthy. After all, the Bathgates put the ‘pure' in ‘Puritan.' They were at the helm of the
Mayflower
. They supplied the coal that blackened the faces at the Boston Tea Party. The ink that signed the Declaration of Independence. The lamp oil that lit Paul Revere's ride.”