Louisiana Moon (24 page)

Kris snatched up the papers. “Let’s go,” she said and hurried to the front door, Darin pacing at her heels. As she neared the exit, she froze. A teddy bear sat on the floor in front of the door, blocking their path.

What the hell?

With her heart in her throat, she tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Instead, she blinked several times at the stuffed toy. It hadn’t been there before. She was sure it hadn’t been there before. She looked at Darin to see what was probably a matching expression of shock on his face.

They were not alone. Someone or something was in the house with them and she sure as hell didn’t want him caught up in the middle of whatever game was being played.

Kris stared at the teddy bear. Instead of the comforting brown eyes the toys usually had, these brown eyes were more egg shaped then round. Under its bow mouth, one side curled up as if the damn thing was snarling at her. A soft sound came from the stairs leading to the second floor. She pulled out her gun and whirled around to focus on the rising column. They had to get out of there. Now.

A voice, not quite human, cackled manically and rushed down the stairwell.

Kris yanked Darin by the hand, dragging him to the front door. No longer worried about making sound or being discovered, too late for that, they clattered down the brick steps until they hit the bottom and sprinted across the graveled drive. Her chest heaved as she ran. She chanced a glance over her shoulder at the house, at the statues. Neither moved. Trees and spindly shrubs danced under the light breeze while the muffled sound of the cackle followed them as they dashed through the gate and climbed into her car. She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they were several miles from the house.

“What the hell was that, Kris?” His tone was breathy.

“Don’t ask. You really don’t want to know.”

“Don’t ever ask me to go back to that house with you again.” Darin panted, as he wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Seriously. I don’t care if V finds me—there is something wacked about that place.”

Kris couldn’t agree more. “I won’t. I promise.”

Every few seconds, she’d peer into the rearview mirror just to make sure they weren’t followed. She only slowed down her panicked rush when they drove through the early morning New Orleans streets crowded with commuters.

Once at her office building, she parked and exited. The day already heating, the smell of hot tar, exhaust and fuel left her glad to escape the smell of death and charcoal.

Right after she unlocked the building, she entered and went straight to her office, ignoring the phone messages. After tossing the files onto her desk, she slid her hand under her desk and searched for the button to her secret stash of weapons then pressed it. The miniature palm tree rose, revealing a glowing blue cylinder of mass destruction. She didn’t want matters to get worse than they already were.

“What’s that?”

“A gun for you and a dagger for me.”

“Is the gun necessary?”

“If you are going to stay with me, I think you need to start carrying one around, so yeah.”

Darin crossed his arms over his chest, squinting at the case. She extracted the pistol, checked the line of sight and the empty chamber. She slipped the cartridge out of the secret compartment and snapped the chamber into place. She pointed the barrel at the only window in the office. A figure across the street dodged behind a trash can. She lowered the pistol and squinted out the window. Soulscape? No, homeless person most likely.

After giving the weapon to Darin, she strolled to the closet to grab an extra holster. She handed him the leather. “Put this on and that into it.”

She pointed at the gun sure she sounded like a bitch on steroids. Too bad. She couldn’t take any more chances with either of their lives. Turning to the canister, she withdrew the dagger.

“How come it’s locked up? Is there a secret I should know about the dagger?” Darin asked.

She stared at the dagger as a memory pushed forward. “My father once told me a story when I was a child. He made it sound like a fairy tale, with a good ending, of course. Now it looks like the tale has a life of its own.” Could she do this? What choice did she have?

“What’s the story?”

“A prince rises from the depths of his own despair to take back what was rightfully his, only to lose it all. Only the dagger will release the trapped anguish to restore the lands.”

“Translation, please.”

Maybe it was time he knew. “The story is about me and Ryant. We are a prophecy in the preternatural world. I never believed it until this mess started. I never wanted to.”

“What’s the prophecy?”

She shook her head. “Later.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Anything I have to, to not become a Throne member to be ruled by Queen Cekah.”

“Queen Cee-kah? Who’s that?”

“Current ruler of Darkworld. To become a Throne, I’d have to agree to follow her rules without question. At least, now, I have freedom. Choices.”

She left him considering that as she glanced at the top of her desk, at the files retrieved from the house. What would she find? Who were the Adamses? They were in her father’s book. Why hadn’t she known who they were before this? She sat behind the desk and inhaled. Kris opened the folder and researched the family tree.

Her fingers halted on a page.

A woman in a drawing appeared familiar. Kris flipped through different images in her mind, trying to locate the face—at the coven, Club Fifteen, the woman who’d led her to Darin. V was Vanessa. As she connected the dots, the realization hit Kris like a dump truck of stone. She was related to a vampire. How the hell was that possible?

Even as her mind whirled with the implications, she continued to flip through the files and found more family history. Letters revealed secret meetings throughout the years, meetings with Kingsley Adams, Stanley and Vanessa’s great-great-great grandfather. The meetings stated hell house was needed to guard the steel cells the Soulscapes were locked in. Inside hell house.

She sat back. Dear gods. Her father had known they’d rise again to take over the Darkworld. As she looked through more of the letters, she noticed the house was in her family’s name. Wait… She’d inherited hell house? Holy fuck.

Hours passed as darkness enveloped the light. It wasn’t long before Ryant showed. She rolled her eyes. He had said he would return, but a small part of her wished he had forgotten. Kris stood and stretched. “What are you doing here? Checking on me?”

“Guilty. I’ve been worried, and it’s always a pleasure to see your lovely face, body, be inside your mind.” He smiled seductively then looked at Darin. “You are nothing but a road block, human. I could easily smash you, but haven’t. Kris and I share a very special bond and you will not break the link.”

“I already know about the prophecy. You don’t have to remind me.” Darin stared Ryant down. His hands flexed into tight fists.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this, and you can forget about me helping you with Stanley. I’m tired of your fucking games. I’ve had enough.” Kris stalked to her desk, retrieved the file and book. As she walked toward Ryant, she pushed him out of her office. “Darin, stay here. I’ll be back,” she tossed over her shoulder and ignored his protest as she continued to shove Ryant until he was out of the building. As she gave a final thrust, she locked the door, making sure her wards were set, then faced him. “Go back to your coven. Now.”

Kris hopped in her car and took off. No clue as to where she’d go or end up, but getting away was what she needed. Away from everything. Everyone.

After driving a few blocks, she pulled over at the city park and stared through the windshield. Her gaze moved from one park bench to the next, the trees and the emptiness. She wanted emptiness, to be left alone. No worries about anyone specifically, or about people or creatures barging in, making her lose her concentration. Alone time was all she wanted.

She stepped out of her car and leaned her back against the hood. Crickets chirped, their familiar sound soothing. What was she going to do about the prophecy? About V and their relationship? About Stanley. About Darin? And most of all, what was she going to do about Ryant?

Exhaling, she peered ahead. She’d picked this spot because she knew she’d be undisturbed. Her fingers clenched into fists as frustration rose within, threatening to singe the air around her with a scream.

To her right, a twig snapped and she whirled, her gum aimed in that direction. Ryant, his hands spread wide and palms up, strode toward her. Obviously, he hadn’t listened to her when she told him to go back to New Orleans. Great. “What do you want? Can’t I get a break?”

“I came to check on you.”

“You mean spy.”

“However you want to look at it. You’re not safe out here in the open after dark.”

“I know, but I’m fine. Now leave.”

“I can’t do that.”

Of course not. “Where’s Darin? Gods help you, Ryant, if you’ve hurt him.”

His shoulders hitched. “Your human is fine. Safe. We settled our differences.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

“We have an agreement. That’s all that matters.”

Silently, she searched his expression for the truth. And that’s what she found. Whatever had gone on between the two, she knew Darin was alive. She faced the opposite direction as Ryant stood by her left side. When he didn’t start talking, tension left her and she slumped back against her car. With everything a mess, what else could happen?

Her cell rang.

Perfect
. She glanced at the caller ID, at the unknown number on the tiny screen. A new client, maybe? She could use something different right now. “Hello.”

“Is this Kristina Knight, the bounty hunter?” The man’s voice rumbled through the phone.

“Yes. Who’s speaking?”

“Jerry, the barkeep.”

So much shit had gone on, she’d almost forgotten about the day she and Darin apprehended the fae. “Is Stanley there?”

Ryant stepped in front of her, his shoulders squared as if he was ready for battle.

“Yes he is, but not for long. You better hurry.” The phone went dead.

“Stanley’s at Joe’s Bar. I’ve got to go.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Whatever you want. I can’t stop you. I have to do my job.”

Kris walked briskly to her car and got inside. She watched Ryant as he waved his hand and dissolved into thin air. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked to ride with her. She wasn’t ready for the close confines.

She started her engine and pulled away from the park. “All right, Stanley Adams, we need to talk.”

24

Kris pulled into the parking lot of Joe’s Bar. The front door busted open. Ryant flew across the lot with his hands clutched around a man’s neck. The man broke the blow as his back slammed into a brick wall. Chunks fell around them. Soon, their altercation was surrounded by people pouring from the bar and off the streets.

Hastening to Ryant, she weaved her way through the throng. Who in the hell did he throw out of the bar? In her hurry, she shoved people aside.

“Hey…” a woman snapped.

If they didn’t like it, she didn’t care. Shit always rained on a damn parade.

At Ryant’s side, she bent and grabbed his arm. Muscles flexed under her fingers. “Ryant, what are you doing? Where’s Stanley?”

“Escaped, because this mortal fool couldn’t contain him,” he snarled and didn’t remove his hands from around the man’s neck as he bore him to the ground.

She peered into the man’s face. Jerry, the barkeep, turned several shades of red, then purple as he gagged. Kris shook her head, crouched at their side then loosened Ryant’s hands. “You’ll never learn. You can’t get information out of anyone by doing what you’re doing. Let him go.”

For a second, she thought Ryant might ignore her then his fingers released and he pulled his hands away. Jerry closed his eyes, gasping for air like it was his final breath, which it had probably been darn close to.

When she set a hand on Jerry’s shoulder, he flinched and stared up at her. The poor man had been through a lot the past week. “Where did Stanley go?” Her voice was calm.