Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1) (10 page)

The exhaustion and cold won out, my arm falling heavily to the ground. I didn’t release it from my grasp, but I wouldn’t be able to will my arm back up again if I tried.

Zane wasn’t in any better condition than I was. He was spent from the battle as well as blood loss and didn’t even make an attempt to try to recover his staff. He probably didn’t have the strength left to lift it anyway.

Alex recovered from his shock at the gunshot and ran to Zane’s side to assess his wound. With a relieved sigh, he said, “The bullet is lodged in your shoulder, but it missed anything vital. You’ll live as long as you get medical attention.” He tore off a piece of his shirt to use as a tourniquet on the wound. “That’ll slow the bleeding enough to buy you time until an ambulance arrives.” He pulled a Smartphone from his pants pocket and dialed 9-1-1. When he was done, he stood and came to me.

Looking up at him in confusion, I asked, “Why did you just do that? Why are you trying to save him when he would have killed you without hesitation?”

He knelt by my side. “Emma, that is a very long story, one we’ll have to save for another time. Right now, let’s get you out of here so we can fix you up.”

He hefted me into a fireman’s carry. Although it was the easiest way to carry a person, I was surprised he was able to manage at all, given his own current state of fatigue and burnout. He wasn’t moving fast, and his breath was coming in heavy pants, yet he somehow managed to make his way the few blocks to my apartment.

You had to love New York City; no one even gave us a second glance.

I
awoke the next day in my own bed, surrounded by the pleasant scents of rosemary, basil, pine, and other aromas I couldn’t immediately place. Opening my eyes, I found my wounds slathered in some sort of green paste, which was the source of the fragrance. I also took note that I was completely unclothed except for the Hello Kitty underwear and black bra I had been wearing yesterday, my torn and filthy clothes strewn across the floor. I was grateful Alex had saved my ass, but I figured he could have thrown away my clothes or, at the very least, tossed them into a corner rather than simply leaving them unceremoniously lying about. Men were such slobs.

I tested my limbs and was immensely grateful when they responded. The numbness was gone, replaced by the dull ache of muscle soreness. I used my hand to wipe some of the paste from the wound on my calf, revealing angry red lacerations, although they weren’t deep enough to have torn muscle as I had feared. The flesh wounds would heal and likely leave behind some thin scars yet no permanent damage. I had no doubt the shadow demons could have inflicted much more serious wounds, but they must have been holding back based on Zane’s orders to capture, not kill.

I wasn’t entirely certain what the paste was meant to do, but I guessed it was for healing or pain relief. I would have to remember to ask Alex.

I climbed slowly out of bed and stripped the sheets. As much as I liked the smell of the poultice, I didn’t want to sleep in green puree. I threw my torn clothing into the trash and grabbed a clean outfit, making my way downstairs to the shower.

Stopping short at the kitchen, I groaned in annoyance at the mess. Alex was nowhere in sight; however, the sink was piled high with dirty, encrusted pots. Stems, leaves, and other scraps littered my white granite counters along with the dirty knives and spoons used to cut, chop, and mix the concoction. Alex clearly hadn’t even tried to tidy up after himself. Maybe I was being overly sensitive, but it felt like he had left this mess on purpose. I didn’t even know the guy, and he was already trying to irritate me. I seemed to be on everyone’s shit list these days.

Despite that, when I saw him again, if I saw him again, I would have to thank Alex for getting me out of there last night and taking care of me. I had so many questions, and he had just disappeared without even leaving a note or a phone number. The only place I could think to look for him was back at Raines, but it wouldn’t open until this evening. In the meantime, I did have another stop I needed to make today that I was hoping would yield some answers.

Sighing in resignation, I made my way to the shower.

I emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later, clean and dressed in jeans and a vintage Star Wars T-shirt, armed with my Glock and a wicked combat knife that I had slid into my boot. I didn’t want to get stuck again without a back-up weapon.

I got to work, scrubbing pots and wiping down counter tops. When my apartment was back to its usual spotless condition, I grabbed my purse and headed to midtown.

The sun was shining and the air was warming up quickly as I picked my way through the throngs of tourists in Times Square. Even though I had lived in Manhattan for years and walked through this area hundreds of times, I still couldn’t help looking up in awe at the massive video screens cycling through movie trailers and advertisements; billboards of male underwear models plastered onto the sides of buildings; and flashing marquees for Broadway theater productions.

Hundreds of people were lined up at the TKTS booth, hoping to land discount tickets to their favorite musicals. Knock-off costumed characters of Elmo, Mickey Mouse, and Cookie Monster were trying to earn money by getting their photos taken with children and even some adults who saw the humor value in it. The Hard Rock Cafe and Toys R Us had lines that spilled out the front doors.

It was just another ordinarily extraordinary day in New York City.

A few blocks past Times Square and two avenues to the east, I found what I was looking for. A hanging sign swung gently in the light afternoon breeze above a shop entrance. Gold lettering on the sign’s midnight blue background identified the establishment as Alfreda’s Antiquarian Bookshop. Below the name was a beautifully intricate drawing of a tree with its curling gold branches extending out from a slender trunk to form a canopy of mesmerizing swirls. In the heart of the tree’s trunk was a single blue gem that glittered in the sunlight.

This was the shop Daniel had recommended I visit because they might know something about my amulet. I’d had no intention of coming here when he had first mentioned it, but after last night, I needed to learn more about the object I wore around my neck. I had to tread carefully though; there were killers after me, and I didn’t want to draw undue attention to myself or to anyone else, for that matter, by flaunting the medallion.

As I stepped through the front door, a small bell tinkled delicately, announcing my presence. The store wasn’t large, and a clutter of numerous mystical books and other paraphernalia filled every available space. Yet, rather than making the shop feel cramped and claustrophobic, it felt welcoming and cozy.

Honey-colored shelves lined all of the walls, floor to ceiling. They were filled with books about magic, Wicca, philosophy, meditation, divination, and more. Other shelves were packed tightly with apothecary jars in an assortment of shapes, sizes, and colors, but all were labeled neatly with names like Adder’s Tongue, Devil’s Bone, Dragon’s Blood, Horehound, and Unicorn Root. Chest-high shelving units stood in the middle of the store, overflowing with crystals, wind chimes, beads, bowls, tarot cards, and other magical and spiritual trinkets. The air was scented heavily with sandalwood, vanilla, and other perfumes from the incense, candles, and oils available for purchase.

The high-pitched musical voice of a woman who sounded more like a twelve-year-old than a twenty-something-year-old resonated from the checkout counter at the back of the shop. “Hey there!” came the bubbly welcome. “Feel free to take a look around. I don’t want to hover over you or be too overbearing, so I’ll stay back here. But you just let me know if there is anything I can help you with.”

“Okay, thanks,” I responded, grateful I would be able to approach the discussion in my own time instead of being forced into a falsely cheery chat with the checkout girl.

I walked slowly through the store, making a show of peering at all of the shelves, as if I were truly intrigued by their contents.

“Hi, again!” came that same cheerful voice from directly behind me. I was uncharacteristically startled by her sudden appearance. It wasn’t often someone could sneak up behind me without my awareness. “I know I said I would stay back there, but then I thought you might need some help, and maybe you were too shy to ask, and I didn’t want you to leave here and think you got bad customer service, so I thought I would pop over and see if you had any questions or were looking for something in particular.”

I stared at the woman as she was speaking, wondering when she was going to take a breath. She had made it through that entire speech in one lungful—impressive. Despite her tendency toward verbosity, she was quite striking. Anywhere besides New York City, she would have easily stood out in a crowd.

Her hair was a bright, burnished red that most women achieved only from a bottle yet appeared to be natural on her. It shone like silk under the fluorescent lights, and she wore it loose and full to just below her shoulders. She was boyishly slim with an athletic grace and several inches shorter than me, but the four-inch bright green stilettos she was wearing compensated for her lack of height. Her eyes matched the color of her shoes; however, what drew my attention was the tattoo she had centered on her forehead. It was made of curving lines that appeared to represent a flame and was the same shade as her hair. It was startling yet beautiful.

I realized I was merely standing there staring at her. “Um, I like your tattoo.”

“Thanks!” She smiled widely, showing perfect white teeth, framed by full lips painted an alluring red. “You have no idea how many comments I get on it. Most people who come in here tell me they love it, but every once in a while, I’ll get some stodgy old fart who tells me I ruined my beautiful face with it, and when I’m old and wrinkled, I’ll regret it. I don’t worry too much about that though. It’ll be a while before I get old enough for wrinkles.”

“Oh … um … yeah, it’s—”

“Oh, my, where are my manners? My name is Lilly Alfreda, and I own this shop. So, is there anything I can help you find?”

I forced what I hoped looked like a friendly smile on my face. “Yes, I could use some help. My grandmother recently passed—”

“Oh, no! I am so sorry. I would be devastated if I ever lost my grandma. She practically raised me. Were you close to her?”

“Who? Oh, my grandmother. Well, she—”

“What am I saying? Of course you were close to her. If you hadn’t been, you wouldn’t be so upset. I can see the grief all over your face. It causes premature aging, you know.”

“What?” Had she just told me I looked old?

“My grandma is an amazing lady. She is ancient, but so wise. Just the other day, I was asking her advice about this guy I met—”

“I’m sure she gave you some very sage advice,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back on topic. “As I was saying, my grandmother passed and left me all of her belongings. She was quite an odd bird, really into religion and spirituality—”

“Do you know what religion or form of spirituality she was interested in? You know, you don’t have to be religious to be spiritual. I find it really interesting that she was both—”

“Lilly, please!” The extroverted and bubbly shop owner was beginning to grate on my nerves, but I still needed her help.

I plastered the false smile back on my face.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I know I talk too much sometimes and go off on tangents and share too much information—”

“It’s not a problem, really.” Rushing to get the words out before the next interruption, I said, “Listen, I found a necklace of my grandmother’s with some foreign writing on it and a gemstone in its center. I can’t read it or identify the stone, but a friend told me you might know something about it.”

“Oh, is that all? Sure, I can take a look at it. Did you bring it?”

I freed the amulet from under my shirt and held it out to Lilly. I had no intention of removing it. If she had tried to steal it, it would require me to hurt or kill her. Thankfully, she made no move in that direction. She reached out slowly, a look of awe crossing her features as she gently took the amulet in her hands. She inspected every surface closely, and for the first time since I walked in, the store was filled with silence.