Tactical Magik (Immortal Ops) (5 page)

Her stomach did a few flip-flops before she was able to even touch the trashcan. It was on wheels and rolled with relative ease. The smell only intensified. She thought she might actually find a corpse or two there. Nothing but rotting garbage littered the area. The smell intensified as she bent near some boxes of old Thai food. Covering her nose, Inara leaned away as she used her free hand to check the metal panels of the building. It took four tries but she found one that wasn’t secured. She yanked on it and looked in. She spotted feet and legs far enough off in the distance that it didn’t appear as though anyone would notice her entering.

Perfect.

Crawling in, she held her breath, hoping no one would see her in the act. What aided her in keeping other shifters from hearing her also hindered her. If there was anyone near, she wouldn’t hear them either.

Rust from the panel she held smeared onto her hands. Jimmy had sworn up and down she wasn’t susceptible to human diseases. Tetanus didn’t sound pleasant. She hoped he was right. The very idea she’d managed to stay alive all these years, only to go out by way of a rusty panel, didn’t sit well with her.

Once inside she replaced the panel and turned, surveying the situation. She was instantly hit with the sounds and smells of hundreds of people packed into the place. She’d not heard anything from outside, but that was common in these types of fights. The spells she knew the event organizers used to hide the warehouse’s true purpose were strong. Stronger than others she’d crossed.

Since she’d been on the streets, she’d been to too many of these underground fights to count. Often, Jimmy would fight in them, earning extra money for them. Other times, when Jimmy hadn’t been with her, she’d learned to sneak around and steal what she needed to get by. It wasn’t a life she was proud of, but it was the hand she’d been dealt.

Sometimes, you did things you never thought you would in order to live.

The fight clubs were meccas for the weird, wacky and wanting-to-die supernaturals. Seemed like shifters more than any other paranormal species flocked to the fights. They had a lot of bottled-up testosterone, so it made sense. Most vampires she’d met were manipulative and up to no good. Made sense they’d show too. She only hoped they weren’t evil through and through or their smell would turn her stomach the entire length of the event.

At least they didn’t make her sneeze like magiks did. She really disliked magiks. For one, their scent always made her sneeze, and for two, the ones she’d bumped into were even more manipulative than the vampires. And that was damn hard to be.

So long as there were no signs of the men chasing her, she’d deal with whatever came. Deep down in her gut, her senses began to churn, alerting her to something being off. She sniffed the air, drawing in the scent of vampires. A lot of them. More than she’d smelled in one location ever. They didn’t tend to come in groups. They seemed to be more solitary in their habits. Unless they were working toward a very bad common goal.

Keep your head down. Get some cash and get out
, she repeated in her head again and again.

She snuck past a group of men and darted down an unmanned area, walking down the dimly lit corridor. Now that she was inside, the wards keeping those passing by the warehouse from hearing what was going on inside were gone. She could hear other women talking. Her heightened sense of hearing permitted her to often hear more than she wanted to. It had first started when she was a child, and it had scared and overwhelmed her. She’d heard every voice around her. The tick of every clock. The beat of every heart. She’d curled into a tiny ball and cried. Her adoptive parents took her to a special doctor.

Looking back, Inara had doubts even then about the doctor and her adoptive parents. There were always shady glances, conversations taking place far from her, and back-room dealings. Something had been off, but she’d not pieced it all together.

“You look like a tramp,” a girl said to another, the voice carrying down the corridor, pulling Inara from her memories of the past. “We’re supposed to look hot, not like skanks.”

“Bitch, I know you’re not talking to me,” another girl returned.

“Should you refer to me as a bitch again, there won’t be enough of you left for the people here to piece back together,” the first returned, sounding calm, as though she had years and wisdom on her side.

Inara steeled herself as she moved back the dingy curtain to the ring girl area. The curtain smelled of smoke and sex. She didn’t want to know what it used to be. Probably a bedspread in a seedy hotel. She moved past it quickly, wanting it away from her as fast as possible. She collided with a woman and stepped back, catching the woman before she fell. The woman wore a barely-there dress and a fur coat, of all things. Diamonds worth more than Inara wanted to take a guess at adorned the woman’s ears and neck. Everything about her said she had money and lots of it.

What the hell was she doing behind the curtain for the ring girls? Women like her didn’t frequent dives like this unless they were on the arms of rich high rollers. Maybe she was lost.

Within seconds Inara was sneezing. A sure sign the woman was a magik. Of course she was. Probably meant she couldn’t be trusted too.

The woman’s dark eyes narrowed on her. “You should watch where you are going.”

Inara simply stared at her. “Sorry.”

Whatever the woman saw when looking at Inara must have warned her off of starting anything. She nodded. “Be more careful.”

“Sure thing.” Inara sneezed again. She was going to leave well enough alone but her stomach began to growl loudly. “Hey, they have any food anywhere?”

Pity slipped over the woman’s eyes. “Oh, sugar, you’re a street rat, aren’t you?”

She’d become familiar with the term years ago and inclined her head. “Just need some food, then I’ll be on my way.”

The redhead put her hand on Inara’s shoulder and Inara stiffened. “Come on. I’ve got some food in the back. I bring plenty for my girls. That one over there with the loud mouth is Candy.” The redhead paused. “And if she continues with the attitude, she will be in far worse shape than you are.”

Inara said nothing as a blonde with too much makeup on finished tying the top of her bikini up. The blonde pressed a smile to her face and picked up a Round One sign. “Don’t mind me, I’m just working for a living.”

Inara considering punching the bitch. She resisted. Plus, she wasn’t exactly up to it at the moment.

The redhead sighed. “Some girls are lost causes. But enough of Candy. Let’s get you cleaned up and fed.”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

The woman’s lips pursed. “You don’t trust me.”

Inara said nothing. She’d learned not to trust magiks. It was nothing against the redhead in particular. Just magiks in general.

“The food is back there. I’ll stay out here if it makes you feel better.”

It did.

“I was a street rat once too,” the woman returned. “That was a long, long time ago but I remember what it was like. I wouldn’t wish the life on anyone. Got a name?”

Inara stood there staring at her. She wasn’t about to give this stranger her name.

The redhead smiled more. “I’m Jinx.”

Jinx?

Jimmy had spoken of Jinx. More than once. The way he talked about her made her sound like a modern-day madam with connections that ran deep in the paranormal underground. He also talked about trusting her.

“I’m Inara.”

Jinx gasped and leaned in close, whispering, “Jimmy’s charge?”

She managed a nod.

Jinx glanced around, looking almost frantic for a moment. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“Oh, for the love of cock, tell me you’re not here to rob the betting money.” She shook her head. “Forget it. I know Jimmy and I know what he taught you. You’re here for the money.”

“And food,” Inara offered with a grin that faded quickly.

“Where is Jimmy? I’m going to strangle him for bringing you here.”

Inara stilled. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Jinx asked.

“He was taken.”

Jinx swayed and Inara had to steady her. “When?” the woman asked.

“Months ago.”

“And you’ve been on your own since then?”

“I get by,” Inara protested.

Jinx pursed her lips. “Oh yes, I see. Come on. I’ve got some fruit and snacks in the back.” She led Inara to a back room and handed her an apple, a banana and a granola bar. Without really stopping to chew, Inara had the granola bar scarfed down within a minute. The redhead looked saddened as she pushed Inara’s dark hair behind her ear.

Inara peeled the banana, unconcerned with the mess she was making. “Thanks for the food.”

Something on Jinx’s expression changed. Her face went from saddened to fearful. “Listen, go that room over there. You’ll find water bottles and a wash room.”

“Thank you,” she said as another sneeze followed. It would end soon enough, but in the meantime she was in hell and they didn’t offer an over-the-counter tablet for her problem.

Chapter Four

Eadan glanced around the dark alleyway, sure he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. This was the great lead Jack had? Dammit, he had to find Inara. The flight here felt at least ten times longer than it actually had been. Hearing he had a potential mate and that she was in danger was a hell of a motivating factor.
 

So far, there had been no sign of Inara and no sign of Duke Marlow. Eadan had given up waiting on backup and decided to go it alone. Duke would have to catch up with him later. Inara needed him now and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Didn’t matter that they’d never met. Simply seeing her photo had done him in. She was his. He felt it deep down in his bones. And his magik tingled at the idea of taking her, claiming her as his life mate.

He just had to find her first.

He continued down the alley. So far, he’d spotted a passed-out older man who had wet his pants and was hugging an empty bottle of cheap wine as he whispered sweet nothings to it in his state of drunkenness, several women selling themselves to what he could only guess was the lowest bidder, and two assholes fighting over a car, but no sign of the girl from the photograph.

Damn Krauss, Molyneux and Helmuth. Damn them all to hell. It was because of men like them that there had been so much death and destruction. The quest for everlasting life, for ultimate power and for super soldiers was going to doom them all.

If it hadn’t already.

He didn’t understand the craze to invent or “improve” upon existing supernaturals or natural-born gifts. Eadan came by his supernatural gifts honestly. He was a born Fae. Both his parents were full-blooded Fae as well. Hell, they were considered noble within the Fae world. That was a good and bad thing. Good because it gave him pull and rank within the Fae community. Bad because he’d stopped ageing in his early twenties, forever locked into a baby face. What was worse, every time he tried to cut his hair it only grew back. Sometimes by the next morning.

It was hard to look like a badass next to a bunch of shifter-ops when he was cursed with long, blond hair and a face that at best grew a small dusting of facial hair. Roi gave him the hardest time. The other guys just laughed. Eadan knew it was all in fun. Even though he did wish he could pull off the rugged look.

He doubted that would happen. His father was centuries old and still looked fresh faced and barely thirty. The odds were not in Eadan’s favor.

Could have been worse. He’d seen some interesting creatures that spawned from the Fae community. Things that could never live in the open because it was impossible for them to blend as humans. Some should be feared. Others were feared but had hearts of gold. In the end, it didn’t matter. They couldn’t expose humans to what was truly out there. There would be chaos.

A complete meltdown of society.

A lot of what was running around the supernatural underground was a mix of things. At one point it was all born that way. Not anymore. Now, thanks to the mad scientist Krauss, there were hodgepodges of paranormal on the loose and worse.

If that wasn’t bad enough, PSI had had a surge of traitors within the last year, something it hadn’t had in decades. Hell, most of the operatives within the organization were pushing a century, if not older. They tended to learn from their mistakes and to avoid allowing history to repeat itself. Eadan wasn’t sure what the fuck had happened within PSI, but it had gone to hell fast and was hopefully on the mend. He hadn’t had much of a chance to ask about it when he met with the general. Jack was all business and insistent Eadan get his butt in gear and get out here as quick as he could. Apparently, intel had surfaced on an Asia Project subject being in the area.

He had half a mind to phone headquarters and ask if Intel had started smoking something funny. He’d probably get Nancy. She was one of the phone operators for PSI. She’d just as soon tell you to go fuck yourself than pass you along to the person you needed to speak with. She’d been permanently seventy-something since he could first remember meeting her twelve years prior. Rumor was, she’d been “that age” for a very long time.

Dammit, things had taken a turn for the worse with intel since he and Missy were no longer active in the organization. They’d been a force to be reckoned with, for sure. But times had changed.

He’d seek out some trusted contacts soon enough and find out what was really happening within the organization. For now, he’d do as instructed. He couldn’t go to Missy for help. She wasn’t a player anymore. She was going to be a mom and would more than likely never be an active agent again. The job was simply too deadly. And she’d already lost one child from it. Eadan knew she’d never risk another.

There had been a point in his life when thinking of Missy, their past marriage and their loss had been too much for him. A time when he thought he’d never move on. His sister had fixed that, taking some of the hurt and the pain from him mystically. It wasn’t a fix he’d have used on himself, but it was fix he’d needed all the same. He’d become bitter and had lost his love for life. Without his sister Melanie intervening, Eadan knew he’d have spiraled out of control. Some of the sting of it all was easier to swallow knowing Missy had never been his true mate. She belonged to Roi.