26. Chain of Events

     Several blocks away, at the precise moment Lily’s hand touched Daniel’s chest, Dominic jerked awake, Katy stirring in his arms at the sudden movement. He murmured soft words, stroked her hair until she drifted back to sleep, then cocked his head and listened intently, wondering what had startled him from a deep, sated sleep.

     Hearing nothing, he smiled to himself—there’s a disturbance in the Force, Luke—as he played with a long, silken strand of Katy’s hair, twining it around a finger before bringing it to his nose. Her scent was on his skin, in his head, weaving into every corner of his body. Somewhere between wild sex in the living room, the shower, and her bed, Dominic had finally unraveled her braid, pleased beyond reason when her hair fell in a thick curtain of chestnut waves to her waist.

     “I smell smoke,” his enchantress murmured, interrupting his thoughts.

     “Thought you were asleep, Red.” When she tried to lift her head, he pressed it back into the hollow of his shoulder, not yet ready to relinquish the soft warmth of her cheek against him.

     Throwing her leg over his thigh, she wiggled tighter into his side, then began stroking her hand in gentle circles over his chest. “I was, but then I smelled the smoke. Don’t you smell it?”

     “The only thing I smell is you.” He pulled her on top of him, smiling at her squeal of surprise. “One kiss, then I’ll go see if we started a smoldering inferno in your apartment while we were—” Chuckling against her lips, his words were drowned in her hungry kisses.

     Several minutes later, all thoughts of leaving the bed forgotten, Dominic suddenly caught a faint whiff of…brimstone?   Carefully rolling to the side, taking Katy with him, he kissed her softly, then said casually, “Let me check that we're not burning the house down.” When she tried to keep him close, he laughed and slid away, rising from the bed in a smooth, fluid motion and headed for the living room. “Keep the bed warm,” he murmured, “I’ll be right back.”

     Once his back was turned, a fierce scowl replaced the grin he’d given Katy. The stench of brimstone could only belong to his father’s Hound—another secret his father didn't know he was aware of.  Fuck. That meant his father knew he wasn't in London, knew he’d lied.  His hands balled into tight fists.  He would not allow his plans to be foiled, would not accept that his years of work and scheming might be for nothing—

     No. No, this was just a minor setback. Squaring his shoulders, he strode to the large window in the living area that overlooked the park, a perfect place for the Hound to hide, to spy for his father. Dom felt a feral growl begin to climb up his throat. Katy. His father would know about her now, but worse, the Hound knew as well.

     Eyes narrowed, he stood clearly, boldly, at the window, making no attempt to hide. His eyes quickly searched the landscape of old, gnarled trees, thick shrubbery and the tall forest ferns of the deep ravine until he caught the glimmer of red in the impenetrable darkness. As his sight sharpened on the twin orbs, the Hound stepped out of the gloom, staring up at Dominic with hellish, glowing eyes.

     Dom returned the look, baring his teeth in a rabid snarl as his vision suddenly honed to a diamond-edged clarity. He could see everything, down to the smallest leaf, as if it were broad daylight…well, if broad daylight was a bright, fiery red. Dom didn't know what was happening, but apparently the Hell Hound did. Eyes wide for a fleeting moment, he abruptly dropped his head, stumbled back into the shadows and disappeared.

*******************************************

     Jamieson Cantrell boarded his Gulfstream G650, settled into his butter-soft leather seat and barked instructions to the pilot, his voice cold and authoritative as always, not betraying for a moment how furious he was.

     When he’d received the call that the Hound had found Valentine in Seattle, he hadn't been too surprised that the thief had somehow discovered the book’s owner. What else he’d discovered remained to be seen, but before Cantrell had been able to give the Hound further orders, the creature had informed him Dominic had also been found. In Seattle. With a woman.

     Leaving a message for his secretary to cancel all appointments until further notice, Cantrell had immediately scheduled a flight, packed a small bag and had his driver take him to the private hanger at San Francisco International where he kept his planes.

     He didn’t know what his son was up to, or why he’d lied about being in London, but by all appearances it seemed Dominic was doing nothing more than chasing some female and wasn’t involved in the Lily Donovan business. Jamieson, however, didn’t entertain for a single moment that random chance had taken Dominic to Seattle.

     As the plane rose into the air and turned north, Cantrell closed his eyes, calming his thoughts as he put aside his anger.  No, he didn’t believe in coincidence. He would find out what his son was up to, and perhaps this mystery woman would be a nice incentive to accomplish that. A smile of anticipation curled one corner of his cruel mouth.

********************************************

     Standing in an alley, Taurin leaned against a brick wall, staring across the street at a business called Enchantments. From the light of the street lamp, he could see through the front windows, could just make out shelves filled with books. Though it was dark on the first two floors, lights were softly glowing from the top floor of the old Victorian house. He knew Daniel was somewhere inside that building. The medallion had brought him to this alley, so Valentine must also have stood in this very spot, maybe staring at the house just as he was now.

     Taurin didn’t want to overplay his hand or harm an innocent. All he wanted was to return Daniel Valentine and the book to the Ethereal. Arms crossed over his broad chest, he was running several scenarios through his mind, searching for the right approach, when a strange current of energy rolled down the building, followed by a light so powerful he had to narrow his eyes against the glare.

     Looking up, Taurin could see the entire third floor was ablaze with the blinding illumination. Clutching his medallion in a taut fist, Taurin closed his eyes and with a thought was inside the building. Quickly scanning the area, he saw the stairs and raced up two flights, taking the steps three at a time. He hit the top landing and focused on the brilliant light seeping through the cracks around the wooden door. When he heard an agonized moan coming from the other side, he took a determined stride forward, prepared to break the door down, but staggered to a halt when the light unexpectedly went out, leaving behind an ominous silence in the darkened hallway.

     Taurin carefully laid a hand against the door, half expecting to feel heat, but it was cool to his touch.  Trying the knob, finding it locked, he was considering his next move when there was the sound of a heavy thud, another moan, then fear and panic in Daniel Valentine’s deep, rough voice as he yelled hoarsely, “Lily!  Lily!"  Taurin heard the man draw a shuddering breath, heard his damning words when he groaned, “God, Lily, I’ve killed you!”

     Jaw clenched, no more hesitation, Taurin backed up a step, then kicked hard at the door with a large booted foot. It flew open and banged sharply against the back wall as he rushed into the room. A woman was crumpled on the floor, pale and still, as Daniel kneeled beside her, his shirt hanging off his frame in burnt tatters. At the loud crash from the door, his head jerked up. Eyes haunted, he pleaded with the man who by all rights had come to kill him.  “Help me, Taurin. I don’t care what happens after, just please, help me.”

 

25. The Conversation Derails

     “What is my magic?" Lily asked.  With a smile, she answered, “I can sell books.” At his snort, her smile widened. “Really, that’s my gift.” As he continued to stare at her, she found herself saying, “Okay, now and then, sometimes, I can sense…undercurrents. It’s hard to explain but that’s why I don’t like Katy’s new friend, he’s hiding something behind the mask he wears.” Her eyes roamed over his face, then she said softly, “Do you have a pacemaker, or some kind of implant?” At his puzzled look she murmured, “It’s just, there’s this hum, a strange vibration of some kind, coming from your chest and—”

     Without thinking Daniel’s hand pressed against his sternum at her words, but with a hiss of pain he abruptly surged to his feet, the bench sliding with a screech across the floor. Lily froze. Was his agitation from a painful memory, or was it actual physical pain she had just seen flash across his face? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, sit down, eat something.”

     He stopped pacing, eyes haunted as he stared at her from across the room. “God, Lilith, there’s so much—”

     “Wait,” Lily interrupted, “what did you call me?”

     Surprised, he answered, “Lilith.  Your name.”

     “No, it's not.  My name is Lily. Lily Donovan Chareau.” Narrowing her eyes, she sputtered, “Oh don’t tell me! After all this intrigue and mystery, the damned suspense, don’t tell me you’ve got the wrong person?”

     Emphatically he said, “There are no doubts you’re the right person, believe me.”  Meeting her startled gaze, he mumbled, “I guess I just assumed Lily was short for Lilith.”  Pushing the bench seat back under the table, he sat down.  “I have a very complicated story to tell you, Lily, but before we dive into that morass,” Daniel looked wistfully down at his plate, “would you mind if I just have a bite of this sandwich? I think it’s been awhile since I’ve eaten.”

     “Of course,” Lily said, watching him cut the sandwich in half before his last words registered. “You think it’s been awhile. You don’t know?”

     Ruefully, he met her gaze. “It’s been a really bad couple of days.” He paused, head tipped in thought. “A really bad couple of weeks actually,” he amended.  Taking a large, hungry bite of the sandwich, he chewed appreciatively, even closing his eyes with a groan once or twice.

     Once the edge had been taken off his hunger and he'd finished the sandwich and two helpings of potato salad, Daniel put down his fork, refilled both their glasses with the last of the wine and took a long, deep drink before clearing his throat to say quietly, “I live in San Francisco.”

     Lily waited for more, but he just stared pensively into the dark burgundy depths of his wine. “It’s a beautiful city.”  As the silence lengthened, she asked, “What do you do there? For a living, I mean.”

     Daniel grimaced. Shaking his head in frustration, he said, “I really don’t know how to begin to explain this.”

     Lily smiled. “My grandfather always says the way to tell a story is to start with the first word.”

     After a deep breath, Daniel took her literally and quietly began to talk about his early years at the orphanage, his life with the sisters. He paused for a few minutes, gathering his nerve, then asked, “Do you know much about astral travel, dream flying, the Ethereal?”

     Lily burst out laughing. At Daniel’s fierce scowl, she raised her hand in a stop gesture and said, “No, wait, I’m not laughing at what you said, truly. I’m laughing because if anyone would know, it would be me.   Not only have I lived with grandparents who were light years ahead of their time and parents who dance naked under the full moon to increase the harvest, but surely you realize, Enchantments,” she emphasized the word, “is an esoteric bookstore.  I have an entire section downstairs devoted just to astral projection, travel, dream worlds.”

     “Reading and believing can be worlds apart.”

     “Yes,” she said softly, “though not to me.”

     So, Daniel told her about his first foray into the Ethereal, becoming mesmerized by the jewel-bright threads, seeing the glorious wonder of the Library, nearly falling into the darkness, then meeting Taurin. As Lily listened intently to every word, he carefully told her about his teenage years, how he had learned to understand the threads, and to use them. Taking a deep breath, he finally got to the crux of his story, telling her how he had become the thief who stole from thieves.

     “What are you saying, that you’re like a modern day Robin Hood?” Lily wasn’t sure what to think. Was this mysterious man delusional? A lunatic after all?  Was it truly possible to do what he claimed?

     Daniel could see by Lily’s posture, the look on her face, that she was grappling with the knowledge she might be sitting across the table from a crazy person. He knew there was one sure way to convince her, but he wasn’t ready for that just yet. There would be no going back once he told her, showed her the mark on his chest.

     “I steal what has been stolen.  I return the items, give them back to the museums, galleries, places that have been robbed.  But if something has been stolen between one bastard and another? No, I don’t give it back. I find another way to deal with the provenance, then donate the funds where they can be used to help others.” He raised a brow and looked her in the eye. “And I take a percentage. Don’t think I’m some kind of hero. I’m not.”

     In the quiet kitchen, the only sounds came from the ticking clock on the wall. Lily stared at Daniel, questions rioting in her head like a pinball machine. “But I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with me?  With why you're here?  Or for that matter, with Dominic Cantrell?”

     “I had to explain the…back story, I guess you could call it, before I tell you exactly what happened, and what it has to do with you, and Cantrell.” He ran a rough hand through his hair, then rubbed his temples, his weariness apparent in every slow, deliberate movement.  “And me, of course.”

     Lily stood. “Let’s go into the other room,” she murmured distractedly as she began to clear the table, her mind in a whirl.  “Do you want some coffee or tea? More wine?”

     “I would love a cup of tea, but let me help you clean up.”

     “No,” she said, “go sit in the living room and relax. It looks like you haven’t done that for awhile either.” He still helped carry dishes to the sink before he would concede kitchen duties to her. After discussing the tea selection, he started out of the room but stopped when she said quietly, “You could light a fire if you want.”

     Smiling at her over his shoulder, he replied, “That sounds good.”

     Buzzing around the kitchen, Lily put things in order and made the tea. When it was ready, she carried a small tray with the teapot and cups out to the living room. Setting the tray on the center table, she turned to sit down, then realized he had fallen asleep, his breathing soft and even as his head rested against the back of the sofa. He’d removed his boots, long legs stretched out toward the fire.  She sat on the edge of the coffee table and took in his length, the size and contours of him. His tousled black hair was nearly irresistible and she struggled with the urge to run her fingers through the strands, feel the texture, the weight. Her eyes dropped to his hands, folded over his stomach. Strong hands, with long fingers, like a concert pianist.

     Though she didn’t want to deprive him of the rest he clearly needed, she had to wake him, hear the end of the tale. Settling next to him on the sofa, she gently jostled his shoulder. Her mouth opened to call his name when, shocked, she realized he hadn't told her. After another shake which failed to rouse him, she leaned closer, laying her palm on his chest and began speaking quietly near his ear so she wouldn't startle him.

     But before she could whisper more than a few words, intense rays of light suddenly burst from Daniel’s chest, so bright every sinew and bone in Lily’s hand was backlit in burning clarity. At the same instant, Daniel’s eyes flew open and his hand painfully trapped hers. She tried to pull away, could see him struggle as sweat beaded his forehead, teeth clenched in a furious struggle to release her, but the light would not relent, fusing them tightly together. Vision dimming, Lily could only watch in horror as the man slowly lifted his other hand to her nape, his body shaking with exertion as he tried to resist the inexorable force pulling her head down to his chest. Their eyes locked, panic and remorse, fear and pain swirling between them.

     When her forehead touched his chest, Lily had a brief, lucid moment before she lost consciousness, where she remembered her dream: floating amongst millions of books, somehow being inside this man, the terrifying dark. 

     And she remembered something else. 

     She knew who he was. 

     Falling into the stygian blackness, Daniel Valentine's name on her lips, she also knew exactly what he had done.

24. The Conversation Begins

     Daniel hurriedly unlocked Lily's front door, then reached to take the tray from her hands. Frowning, he said, “This is too heavy. You should have left it downstairs for me to carry up.” Lily raised a brow, though let him have the tray without comment and followed him into her apartment, taking his measure as he walked into the living room. Damn. Had he been this big downstairs? So tall and fierce and—

      “Where should I put this?” he asked, standing uncertainly a few steps into the room.

      “The kitchen, I think.” She waited for him to move in that direction, but he just stood silently, waiting for instructions like a butler holding a large tray of food. Lily swallowed, slightly dazed by the way his presence seemed to fill what she used to think was a very large space.

      “And that would be…?”

      Jolted from her wayward thoughts, Lily blinked.  “What? Oh! Yes, well.” She cleared her throat, then stammered, “I thought, um, since you've been up here by yourself—” Her mouth snapped shut at his scowl. She ripped off the itchy black wig and tossed it into a basket behind the sofa, then vigorously raked her fingers through her hair as she walked through a door to the left of the living room. Behind her, he muttered, “I came to speak with you, not case the joint.”

      Turning on the lights as they entered the kitchen, she said, “It’s not unreasonable to be curious about the layout of someone’s house. If you were poking your nose in my business, or prying into my closets, that would be one thing, but just looking around isn’t a criminal offense.” She gave him a confused look when he snorted.

      The soft lighting overhead revealed a large gourmet kitchen with warm butcher-block counters, black appliances and gleaming silver fixtures. Daniel set the tray on a long wooden table—an old, battered, well-loved table—and gazed with appreciation around the room, admiring the subtle color of the walls, the bright cushions on the bench seats beneath the table. The room would be awash in natural light during the day from the long wall of windows and the two skylights.  Walking toward the far wall, he spied more framed photos, these of sunflowers and old men with deep wrinkles and beautiful smiles; families gathered around tables groaning with food and wine, and more smiles; girl children in bright yellow dresses, boys with gap-toothed grins and skinned knees. Daniel felt a bitter, unexpected wave of loneliness sweep through him, an emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years; the pain of being the boy no one wanted, the boy left out in the cold watching the warmth of family through the windows of strangers; never the one inside, sharing in the laughter, the smiles.

      Lily caught the oddest look on the man’s face as he turned from the photos taken the last time she’d been to France visiting her parents. All the local families had come to celebrate the annual sunflower harvest, even her grandparents had come from Ireland. The festivities had lasted for an entire week, and her father had taken some of his finest photographs. Why would these happy, beautiful photos give the man such a lost, forlorn look?

      “Wine?” At his nod, she reached into a drawer and pulled out the corkscrew, then bent to her wine rack and selected a bottle. Smiling, he walked to the counter and took the opener and the bottle back to the table. Lily got two glasses from the cupboard, set them on the table, then slid the bench out and sat just as the cork popped out of the bottle. Filling both glasses, Daniel settled across from her and tipped his glass in a silent toast before taking a drink.

      After taking a sip, Lily twirled the glass by its stem as she said softly, “This is so strange. So out of character for me.” Shaking her head, she murmured, “You just appear out of nowhere, a total stranger, and now here we sit in my apartment where I rarely allow anyone but family.” She raised her eyes, a puzzled look on her face as she met his gaze. “I’m not sure what it is, but there’s...something about you.” Another shake of her head as she reached for the tray of food.

      Daniel thought he might be too nervous to eat, though he wasn’t having the same thought about the wine. Draining half the glass, he topped it up as he watched her lay a plate and silverware in front of him. He couldn’t help staring, couldn’t stop soaking in every movement, memorizing the shape of her lips, the slightly exotic tilt at the corner of her eyes, the crazy, beautiful way her red-blond hair spiked in wild tufts now the dreadful wig was gone. He smiled his thanks when she set a laden plate in front of him and casually said, “Though my family is slightly odd, and that's putting it mildly,” she grinned, “maybe that makes it easier for me to accept...things...because I’m used to the weird stuff.”

      “I’m weird stuff, all right,” Daniel muttered.

      Her face reddening, Lily sputtered, “No! Oh no, I didn’t mean you were weird. I meant this...” Lily waved her hand between them, “us, here, drinking and talking, and yet you could be an axe murderer, an escaped mental patient, or—”

      “No. I might have some, ah, issues, but I’m definitely not a psycho.” Pensively he added, “Although, you might think I'm worse once I've explained—” Abruptly snatching up his wine glass, Daniel took another deep swallow, hesitated for a moment, then shook his head before meeting her eyes. “At the very least,” he said miserably, “you'll probably question my sanity. Or your own for listening to me.”

      Lily’s gaze swept over his face, acutely aware of the amber sparks in the green depths of his eyes as they stared at each other. She saw the dull edge of exhaustion in the lines around his mouth, the shadows under his eyes, the weary droop in his shoulders.  And there was something else—she could feel a subtle vibration, similar to the low thrum of a tuning fork, that seemed to be emanating from...his chest?

     Unsettled, Lily took a quick gulp of wine before glancing across the table at him.  A slight frown creased between his brow as if sensing her unease, but when she smiled, he relaxed and gave her a crooked grin in return.  A grin that fogged her brain. 

     Another taste of wine, and she was once again able to speak.  “Of course I’ll listen to you before I call the men in white coats,” she assured him, “because I wasn’t kidding about my family being different. My grandfather is larger than life and used to fill my head with magical tales of old gods and ancient warriors. When I was a little girl, he would sing me to sleep with legends of the Sidhe, where I always starred as the fairy princess in his grand stories.” Grinning at the memories, she added, “My mother has a green thumb you wouldn’t believe, and though she’s not an actual relative, even my best friend Katy has a gift, for finding lost things.”

      “And you?” Daniel asked softly, his eyes intent on her face. “What's your magic?”

23. Two Trackers

Jamieson Cantrell swung around in his chair, his contemplation of the San Francisco skyline interrupted by the light tap at his office door.

“Sir?”  His secretary poked her head into the room but kept the door firmly blocked with her body.  “Your…ah…appointment is here.”

Cantrell hid his smile.  If she knew just how futile her attempt was to bar the door from the creature at her back, she would run screaming into a custom-fitted straight jacket.  Subconsciously though, he knew the primitive animal part of her brain was feeling the dread, the fear.

“Thank you, Miranda, and why don’t you take an early lunch.”

She stepped forward, her back to the door as it opened wide, a white-knuckled hand gripping the knob like a lifeline.   When the man crossed the threshold, his head swiveled toward her, a low, feral growl rising.  Miranda’s free hand shot to her throat, her eyes widening as he gave her a long, hungry look.

“That will be all, Miranda!” Cantrell snapped.  Startled, she jerked her eyes to him as if coming out of a trance.  Murmuring an apology, she darted from the room, nearly slamming the door in her haste to escape.

“Goddamn it, how many times do I have to beat it into you?”

“Forgive me, Master.”  The creature bowed deeply, almost groveling.  “She smelled so…”  His voice rough and guttural, he hesitated for a moment as if his tongue couldn’t manage to form words.  “It’s been long since I’ve eaten.”

 Cantrell narrowed his eyes, glaring at the fiend standing before him.  At the moment, if one didn’t look too closely, he appeared to be unremarkable, nothing more than an average man of medium build, with brown hair, brown eyes.  Under the façade however, was a vicious, ravenous Hound, a bloodthirsty being of immense strength, with an uncanny ability to track anything alive.  An aberration of the demonic Hellhound, trackers were able to change their appearance, allowing them to blend into whatever environment their tracking skills led them.  With a sharp intelligence, they were even capable of rudimentary speech.  They might have been the perfect weapon if not for the difficulty they had in thinking for themselves; if not controlled mercilessly, trackers quickly degenerated into the mindless savagery of their forebears.  

 “Humans,” Cantrell snarled, “are not part of your diet just yet.  Do you understand me, Hound, or do I have to make a finer point here?”  The tracker dropped to his hands and knees, head hanging in submission.  He didn’t speak or move.  Cantrell sighed.  The day he’d fled the Ethereal, he’d been in the process of training the Hound and though he’d inadvertently brought him to this place, he’d rarely regretted doing so.  Lately however, it was getting harder to keep the beast in line.  Their diet in the Abyss consisted of blood and madness as they fed on the flesh of the damned.  Cantrell was beginning to wonder if domestic animals and wildlife weren't enough, that maybe over the years the wrong diet was starting to deteriorate his Hound.   He didn’t want to lose this asset, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been forced to destroy what had tried to escape his control.

“Stand,” he barked.  He wrote two addresses on a piece of paper and handed them across his desk to the tracker.  “Go to the first address and pick up the scent of the man who lives there.  I believe it will likely take you north, to the second address.”  He leaned forward, his eyes glowing a deep, blood red as he coldly hissed, “You will stop at the ranch and feed before you leave town.  You will harm no humans.  When you have something to report, use this.”  He handed over a cell phone.  “Any questions?”

The Hound tucked the phone into the front pocket of his jacket, then looked at the two addresses for a moment before putting the paper in his mouth, chewing briefly before swallowing.  “No, Master.”

“Do not fail me in this, Hound.  You will not like the consequences, I can promise you.”  As he turned in his chair to look out the window, he added, “Oh, and Hound?  If you catch a whiff of my son, call me immediately.”

 

Six Hours Later…

 Taurin stood in the living room of Daniel Valentine’s house.  Standing, though he didn’t know it, in the exact spot where a few days earlier, Daniel himself had looked across the Bay pondering his next move.

The last time Taurin had felt the earth under his feet, he’d been in the Praetorian Guard, Rome had ruled the world, and he was tired unto death of fighting and warring, blood and loss.  So, when the Celtic spear punched through his chest plate, pierced his heart and drove halfway out his back, he welcomed the darkness.

Except, it hadn’t been dark.  It was myriad colors and shifting golden light and rainbow threads of life.  Syrus had found him almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for him.  The two men had much in common and spent many long hours together, talking, laughing, becoming friends.  In the end, with no hesitation, Taurin eagerly agreed to stay in the Ethereal and join the Wardens.

As he watched the sun begin to color the sky as it set, he marveled at how beautiful this world was, so raw and untamed.  Opening the window, he took a deep breath, savoring the chilly, damp air, redolent with the salty tang of the Bay, the acrid hint of car exhaust from the street below, the faint medicinal hint of eucalyptus wafting in with the fog.

He thought for a minute about his last conversation with Syrus.  His schedule cleared, his men aware of his departure, Taurin had returned to speak with his boss, hoping for a clue how to activate the medallion.  He was also slightly uneasy at leaving the Ethereal for the first time in two millennia.  There was no concern about being two thousand years behind the times, unable to blend with the earthly world—the Ethereal was the center of all human experience after all.  No, it was more that he didn’t really want to return, didn’t want to remember the weight of life, revive old memories of loss and love.

When he walked into the office, he cleared the thoughts from his mind.  Daniel Valentine took precedence over his meaningless concerns.

Syrus told him he’d done a quick bit of research on the medallion.  All he had to do was put it around his neck and visualize where he wanted to go.  The two men had looked at each other for a moment, then started to laugh.  “Yeah, I know.  Anything that easy, there must be a catch,” Sy said, “though I don’t see what it might be.”

“I’m more interested in getting my hands on Valentine and the book, and dragging his butt back here as soon as possible.”  He smiled ruefully.  “It would be really nice if this was easy.”

“I called in a favor with one of my old friends.  He’s agreed to help out.  In fact, he insisted.”

Taurin raised a brow.  “Someone is going with me?”

“No.  Someone already there.”

“How—“

Syrus waved a hand.  “Complicated story, no time, just know that there’s someone on his way to lend a hand if you need it.”  Changing the subject, he asked, “How do you proceed from here?”

Taurin felt there was much being left unsaid, but he wanted to get moving.  The sooner he apprehended the thief, the sooner he could return.  “I want to go to Daniel’s house first and make certain he’s not there.  I’ll look for clues, maybe find some reason for this madness, then follow his trail wherever it leads.”  He shrugged.  “I’ve known him since he was a small child, I’ll find him.”

They shook in the ancient way, grasping forearms, then Taurin dropped the medallion over his head, smiled at Syrus, and imagined himself in Daniel Valentine’s house.

Shaking his head, Taurin closed the window and stepped away to survey the room one more time.  When he’d arrived, right smack in the middle of the living room, he had been disoriented at first, mainly because there had been no feeling of movement, no transitional sense of…anything.  One moment in the office with Syrus, the next standing on a plush Oriental carpet in a house in the middle of San Francisco.

Searching the house from top to bottom, he’d found the secret room.  When he looked around that secure space, he couldn’t help remembering the scared little boy he had found, the sweet child he had comforted, told to find a safe place before he went flying again.  Clenching his jaws, Taurin scowled.  That boy was gone.  It was the man he was after now.

Clutching the medallion in a tight fist, Taurin again caught a whiff of the bitter, caustic stench of brimstone.  He had a moment  before he disappeared to wonder what Daniel could possibly have gotten involved in to have a Hound on his tail.


 

22. Taking Is Mutual

**Disclaimer **

Sex in this installment. 

 If that's a problem, then duh, don't read this.

 

You've been warned. 

 

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 Parking in front of her house, Dominic sat quietly for a moment, listening to the engine ticking as it cooled, Katy’s even breathing, the dim sounds of music and laughter from the pub a block over on the main street.  He’d been waiting for what seemed half his life--instead of a week--to be with this woman, and yet, now he was finding it an exquisite torture to sit here in the dark intimacy of the night, his body humming with anticipation. 

Groaning softly, he shifted in his tight leather pants but instead of easing the pressure, his movements made it more uncomfortable.  Done with the wait, he leaned toward Katy and ran a gentle finger down her cheek, caressing her full lower lip with his thumb.  She stirred slightly, then languidly opened her eyes.  Giving him the smile he knew was meant just for him, she murmured softly, “I forgot to tell you.” 

“Tell me what, Little Red?” 

“You’re the best pirate ever.”  She stifled a yawn.  “Even better than Jack Sparrow.” 

Dominic laughed.  How could she be so guileless, and yet at the same time be so devastatingly erotic.  He kissed her, tongue probing, tasting, his mouth sucking the lushness of her bottom lip.   “I need to kiss you,” he whispered against her lips, “everywhere.”  Katy moaned, the sound igniting his craving, his need to have her. 

With a harsh sound, he was out of his seat and at her side of the car between one breath and the next.  Impatiently releasing the belt, he lifted her out of the passenger seat and into his arms.  She curled into him, easy and familiar, as if she belonged there, safe against his chest.  He nearly stumbled on the way to the porch at that unexpected truth.  Heart pounding with shock, need, fear, disbelief, he tried to open the door, but found it locked.  “Get this door open, Katy or I’ll kick it down,” he growled. 

“Lift me,” she demanded.  Her fingers slid along the lintel until she grasped the key, then he bent slightly so she could unlock the door.  Once inside he was halfway up the left-side staircase before remembering he’d supposedly never been here before.  “Am I heading in the right direction?” he asked, pausing on the stair.  Katy nibbled his earlobe, then whispered, “Oh yeah, definitely headed in the right direction.”  Dom shot up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time as Katy giggled, her breath enticingly warm on his neck. 

At her front door another low growl rumbled up his throat, but this time she was ready.  Plucking a key from a tiny pocket in her cloak, she quickly slid it into the lock.  Before the knob had barely turned, Dominic shouldered forward, pausing only long enough to kick the door shut with his foot.  He dropped Katy’s legs, but kept his arms tight around her, holding her off the ground as he kissed her, grunting with satisfaction when she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. 

His mind raced with the numerous choices in her apartment where he could take her, places he had fantasized about over the past week, but before he could think straight, get beyond sweet, soft lips as Katy kissed him with a fever that matched his own, she began slow, undulating movements against him and his tenuous control snapped.  Ravaging her mouth, he spun around and pressed her against the door.  Holding her with one arm firmly around her waist, he yanked the zipper on his pants, freeing himself from the painful leather trap.  Running his hand up her thigh, Dom sucked in a breath when his large palm curved over bare flesh and he felt the creamy, silken texture of her skin.  “No panties, woman?” he asked roughly, a dark gleam in his eye.  "Another thing you forgot to tell me."

Katy tried to speak, but could only moan at the ragged sound of his breathing as he touched her, the hard reality of his need pressing into her belly.  Arms tight around his neck, she managed to whisper, “Dom...please.” 

Dominic asked, his voice almost cruel, “What do you want?”  He rolled his hips, teasing her with each sinuous move.  “Tell me,” he ordered. 

“I want…” she hesitated, then lifted her eyes and held his burning gaze.  “You know what I want, Dom.”  He held still, waiting.  Leveraging herself a bit, she slipped a hand between their bodies and gripped him.  “This,” she whispered, “I want this.”  She kissed him as she stroked, then said softly against his lips, “And you.” 

The simple honesty of her words swamped him with such intensity, he was briefly overwhelmed and could only stare into glittering sapphire eyes for several moments before abruptly giving her a searing kiss.  Raising her slightly in his large hands, he positioned her but held back.  “Look at me.”  Hunger gave his voice a deep, raw edge.  Shivering at the sound, writhing in his strong grasp as she tried to lower herself onto him, Katy stared into the black depths of his eyes. 

“No one will touch you.”  Holding her up for another brief moment, making sure she read the truth in his eyes, he suddenly lowered her and plunged deep.  “Never again.  No one but me,” he vowed.  Katy was lost in glorious, wild abandon.  As she cried out and begged for more, he didn't hesitate to give it to her.  When he bent forward and bit a taut nipple through the fabric of her dress, the force of her orgasm nearly took him to his knees.

     As the most indescribable sensations Dominic had ever experienced sent him flying, his last coherent thought was irrefutable: Katy Montgomery now belonged to him, body and soul, and he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him.

 

21. Daniel Waits For Lily

     Daniel fled silently up the three flights of stairs, the low rumble of Cantrell’s voice following him like a wraith. Twice he had to stop himself from turning back, the urge to protect Lily nearly overwhelming his better judgment. Quietly easing into Lily’s apartment, he pulled the strap of his messenger bag over his head and clutched it in a tight fist as he locked the door behind him.

     Walking through the small foyer, he paused on the threshold of a large open room.  On the far wall in front of him was a stone fireplace, two sofas facing each other with a long, low table between them, and a set of floor lamps with tassels and embellishments in the opulent manner of the Victorians. The floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the fireplace let in soft, muted light from the street lights outside.

     Stepping into the room, he pulled the chain on one of the floor lamps and slowly surveyed the entire room in the subdued glow of a low-wattage bulb. Now he could see the smaller things, treasures and keepsakes that told the stories of a life. Daniel eyed the array of framed photographs that dominated the room: on the walls, standing upright on tables, and dozens that he could see tucked like exotic decorations and bookends on the many shelves of the astounding bookcase that covered the entire length of one long wall.

     Heading toward one of the windows, he dropped his bag on the floor at the end of the sofa and carefully pulled back the sheer curtain. The view revealed nothing in the quiet street save the occasional passing car. Daniel wasn’t sure how much time he had, but the sense of urgency and dread was growing. He didn’t know if the wardens could actually leave the Ethereal, though if they could and were after him, there was no doubt he was finished.  And that was if Cantrell didn't get to him first.

     But none of that mattered, he thought, grinding his teeth in frustration.  Only Lilith mattered, and if she wouldn’t listen, or worse, wouldn't believe him, well, he’d just have to find some way to safeguard her anyway.

     A distraction drew his gaze to the street below. He watched a tall, muscular man carrying a child—no, wait, not a child, he realized, but a small woman—toward a flashy car, carefully set her inside and buckle her seatbelt. He smiled at the sweet, tender moment between the couple. Until the man straightened and walked around his car. The street lights might have obscured him in light and shadow, but there was no mistaking who it was. Daniel abruptly moved away from the window, pressing himself against the wall.

     As he’d wandered in the shadows at the party, staying in the stacks, avoiding contact with anyone, he’d managed not only to watch Lilith, but glean information from overheard conversations and judicious eavesdropping about several interesting things, not the least being that Katy, Lilith’s best friend and sole employee had herself a new boyfriend.

     Seeing that boyfriend was none other than Dominic Cantrell had truly shocked him, though using the best friend to get to Lilith--a callous and cruel tactic--was no less than what he'd expect from the prick.  There was no doubt he was exploiting the woman's connection to Lilith and judging by the devious little scene just witnessed the remainder of the evening was headed right where Dominic could press his advantage.

     The light tap at the front door brought Daniel back from his reverie. Pushing away from the wall, he quietly crossed the room and stood waiting at the door. There was another tap, then a soft, hesitant voice murmured, “It’s me. I can’t get in without my keys.”

20. Dominic Takes Katy Home...

       Dominic carried Katy to his rental car, tucked her into the passenger seat and buckled her in, then as he walked around the car, a movement on the top floor of Lily’s building caught his eye. He watched the windows for a moment, idly wondering who Lily was sharing all that food with, but when he didn't see any more movement, he shrugged and got behind the wheel. Then the sight of Katy drove all other thoughts from his head. He could almost see dreams stirring in the irresistible sapphire depths of her sleepy eyes as they glittered under the streetlight. She toed off her shoes, then pulled her legs up and tucked her feet under the costume's cloak, turning in her seat to give him a soft smile. “Home James,” she murmured. Dom grinned as he leaned over and kissed her nose. “And where exactly would that be, Little Red?” He knew where she lived, of course, though she wasn’t aware of that.

     Giving him the address, she closed her eyes, the sweet smile still on her face. Staring, he wondered how she’d gotten under his skin so quickly, so easily. No, he thought ruefully, not under. Inside.

     As he drove slowly toward her apartment, he had a hard time concentrating on the road, the traffic lights, the stop signs. Just the thought of finally having her, being with her, touching her--  Dominic fought the ache, the true physical pain of what had become a near constant desire. How many nights had he stood in the darkness outside her apartment, fighting the urge to give in, to just go to her?

     All of them. Every night he battled his need. But finally, tonight the wait was over.

     A wave of restless impatience swept over him, followed immediately by a stunning realization: this tiny waif of a woman had turned him upside down; without even being aware of it, she had seduced him right out of his mind. When had the tables turned? Which precise moment over the past week was the one, the defining moment when it all backfired, turning him from predator to willing prey?

     Since their meeting at the bakery, Dominic had begun a single-minded pursuit of the luscious Katy Montgomery. His plan had been to entice her so effectively, by the Halloween party she would be falling all over him. Unbeknownst to her, he had followed her home, to work, shopping. Everywhere she went, he was there in the shadows.

     He'd called her several times each day, and occasionally they had met for lunch or coffee, but he held her at arms length. Seduction from a distance. He’d loved the whole plan. But then, an unexpected thing happened: As he followed, watched, learned what she liked, what things made her laugh with such delightful abandon--and those things were legion he discovered--he began to wonder if his plan was just plain stupid as he agonized over how bloody long one measly week could be.

     One day, about halfway through the interminable week, he couldn’t resist the temptation to see her apartment, touch her things, breath her scent. He wanted to see how she lived, visualize her in bed, in the bath.

     After following her to work, he returned to her apartment, the second floor of a large Victorian house, one that outwardly had seen better days. Once inside however, Dominic discovered her rooms, though small, were pleasantly charming with high ceilings, wainscoting in the tiny dining room, an old-fashioned claw-foot tub in the bathroom, and beveled glass windows that looked out over the quiet street in the front, and the large, wild Ravenna Park to the back. Her furniture, cast-offs and thrift store purchases, had been repainted or reupholstered in bright, cheerful colors in a style that reflected Katy’s personality. One entire wall in the living room was a bookcase, stuffed to overflowing; he found two more in her bedroom, one on each side of her cast iron bed--a bed covered with an assortment of quilts, and pillows of every shape and size. Nothing matched, and yet it worked perfectly; a kaleidoscope of colors, textures, and sensuality.

     The whole place made him smile as he wandered from room to room, lightly touching the quilts, the overstuffed chair in the corner by a large window, books piled on a small end table, the soft throw tossed over the back of the couch in the living room. When he began to imagine her in the bathtub, with steam and bubbles flushing her face, her body, he left the house in a dizzying rush of hunger.

     Nearing her apartment now, Dom shook his head, a slight smile curving his lips. He hadn’t gone back after that day. Once had been enough. Just thinking about it, about being with her, made him burn. Not only had he never waited for a woman, he’d never wanted one like he wanted her.

     Dom held tightly to the hope that once satisfied, once he'd finally had her, this madness would stop and he could get back to work on the real issues: his father, the book and Daniel Valentine. As he pulled the car to the curb, he looked over at Katy, her face soft and beautiful in sleep.  And tried to ignore the coil of regret that settled in his belly.