The Pretender (The Soren Chase Series Book 2) (24 page)

Ron reached up to the buttons on her shirt and began undoing them. Friday giggled.

“No need for that,” she said.

The shirt suddenly melted away, sliding into her skin, leaving her wearing just a black bra underneath. The skirt fell away, too, merging into her. She wore a matching pair of black underwear.

Ron was dangerously close to losing control. He’d had sex with Carla many times, but this felt more urgent and insistent. Her lips met his and they kissed again as she pressed her nearly naked body into his.

His hands slid up and down her figure, touching every part of her. She moaned into his ear.

“Take off your clothes,” she said.

He started to remove his shirt with his hands, but she put a hand on his and arched an eyebrow at him. He remembered what he was. He looked at her naked form, and the clothes he was wearing melted away. Unlike her, however, he left nothing underneath.

She looked down at his body, admiring it with her eyes. When he looked up at her, she was licking her lips again. They kissed again, and his hands found her breasts, noticing the bra had vanished. He slid his hands down her body and found the underwear gone as well.

She lowered herself down onto him, and he slid his hands along her back. He lowered his head and began kissing her breasts, her moans driving him forward. After only a few seconds, she arched her body and both of them cried out.

Even when they were finished, however, Ron still wanted her. He kept caressing her with his hands.

“Do you want to know the best part?” Friday whispered in his ear.

He didn’t care about anything else anymore, just her.

“We aren’t bound by the limitations of our bodies,” she said. “Aussenseiter talk about doing this all night. We really can.”

She started kissing him again.

Silas Rakev ripped the heart out of the first living thing near him, which just so happened to be a stoneskin. It didn’t cry out or even react beyond just slumping to the floor dead. He found it immensely unsatisfying.

“Who’s next?” he asked, addressing the collection of creatures around him. “Who wants some?”

But he knew who his target should be. He glared at the little shit across from him, and leveled a finger in his direction.

“This is your fault!” he said. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

To his credit, Lochlan didn’t shrink back as Rakev stalked toward him. He didn’t even look scared, which just made Rakev angrier.

“It wasn’t my call, boss,” the leprechaun said. “We told the head of the museum she had to call us if anyone showed up. She did, and we reacted just as ya ordered.”

Rakev towered over Lochlan, his hand itching to rip the leprechaun’s head off.

“That was years ago,” he said. “I don’t care anymore!”

“Gregory didn’t know that,” Lochlan said. “We tried to reach ya, but ya were . . . indisposed.”

“I was preparing the ritual!” Rakev thundered.

His fist clenched and unclenched. He wanted to poke holes into Lochlan’s eyes, and use his head for a bowling ball.

“It took a long time, boss.”

“It’s tricky to pull off,” Rakev replied. “I need to get it right, or the plan won’t work.”

“I understand,” Lochlan said. “But ya said not to be disturbed. Gregory made the call, not me. I warned him you’d be angry—told him not to go. But he remembered what ya did to the last guy who didn’t follow explicit instructions.”

Rakev was confused, trying to remember. He looked at Lochlan.

“What’d I do?”

“Tore out his spine and turned it into a whip,” Lochlan said. “Then you threw his corpse on a table, and invited the shirkens to eat it while Gregory and the other humans watched.”

Rakev’s face brightened, smiling at the memory.

“Oh yeah. I did do that. That was a good time. I think everyone enjoyed it—and learned a valuable lesson about follow-through.”

“Maybe he learned it a little too well,” Lochlan said. “He took two stoneskins, a shirken, and . . . the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

Lochlan shuddered.

“The Reeker,” Lochlan said.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me!” Rakev said.

He turned to a gaunt that was on all fours near the wall of the room.

“You! Come here!” he said.

The gaunt bounded over to him. Rakev leaned over and ripped the thing’s arm off, and then started hitting the gaunt with it until it was a bloody mess on the floor. When he was finished, he glared at Lochlan.

“I’m starting to feel a bit angry,” Rakev said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did we get the Reeker back?”

Lochlan nodded.

“It’s the only thing that came back,” he said. “I put it back in its cage.”

“When I get my hands on Gregory, he’s going to wish I just ripped out his spine. I’m going to suck out his bone marrow through a goddamn straw, and then cut him into tiny pieces and feed him to the gaunts.”

“You aren’t going to get your hands on Gregory, boss,” Lochlan said. “The police have got him.”

Rakev rubbed his hands together, and then slowly cracked his knuckles.

“Oh, I’ll get my hands on him all right,” he said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to mount a raiding party, bigger than what Gregory took. We’ll slaughter everyone in the jail, including Gregory. That ought to teach him a lesson.”

Rakev started to turn away, satisfied he had a plan to deal with the situation. But he heard Lochlan clear his throat, and turned back.

“What is it now?” he asked.

“It’s a brilliant plan, boss.”

“Of course, it is. I made it. Get to the point,” Rakev said.

“If you wipe out the police station, you’ll alert everybody to your presence. The humans will go crazy, and I mean that literally.”

“Like I give a shit,” Rakev said.

“The Council will hear about it, too, ya know,” Lochlan said. “Are ya sure ya want that?”

Rakev paused, and then sighed. “Shit. You ruin everything fun, you know that?”

“I just don’t want ya to do something you’ll regret, boss,” Lochlan said.

“The only thing I regret is not killing Sammy Hagar when I had the chance,” Rakev replied. “What that man did to Van Halen is unforgivable. They were America’s greatest hard rock band, and he turned them into an oversynthesized piece of shit.”

If Lochlan was thrown by the non sequitur, he didn’t show it.

“And there’s this,” Lochlan said. “If you attack the police station, the humans will treat it like a terrorist attack. They’re liable to shut down everything. And I know how ya have been looking forward to tomorrow night’s event.”

Rakev reluctantly nodded his head.

“I hate leprechauns, do you know that? Awful creatures.”

“I’m saving ya, boss.”

Rakev glared at him.

“I don’t need your saving,” he said. “You aren’t as helpful as you think you are, you little monster. I asked you to get the boy months ago, and you failed. Tell me, has the girl eaten Alex yet?”

Lochlan stiffened at that, and Rakev cracked a smile. Everyone had a weakness, and the girl was his. Stupid. Why he would get so attached to the creature was beyond him. Then again, Rakev had never understood the idea of getting attached to anything. The very idea was foreign to him.

“She doesn’t eat people, boss,” the leprechaun replied. “And I’m sorry she’s disappointed ya. Apparently, she won’t come into her powers until she’s a bit older.”

“Too late to help me,” he replied, glaring at the little man. He wanted to kill him. But he was so close to getting what he wanted, and he forced himself to admit that Lochlan was one of the last competent servants he had with him.

“No,” Rakev said. “Of course, you’re right. But I’m worried Gregory will talk. He doesn’t know much, but he knows where we are. I don’t have time to move again.”

He looked around the dimly lit room. It smelled of stale beer, sweat, and fear. Also a bit of decomposition and rot from the bodies he hadn’t bothered to bury or remove. Rakev would hate to leave it.

“He won’t talk,” Lochlan said. “Gregory is many things, but not a squealer. Still, I could have someone assassinate him if ya wish.”

Rakev weighed the pros and cons. Gregory would never consciously betray him, but he of all people knew there were thousands of ways of breaking a man.

“Send someone,” Rakev said. “Make it painful.”

Lochlan nodded.

“One more thing,” Rakev said. “We’re not waiting for tomorrow. We’re moving up the plan. I need to disappear again so I can be properly prepared. Meanwhile, get the troops ready.”

“I don’t know where we’re going,” Lochlan replied.

“Use human drivers—they’ll get instructions when they’re in the car.”

Lochlan gave him a wary look. “I’m wounded that you don’t trust me,” he said.

“Be grateful I don’t pull you apart for the sheer fun of it,” Rakev replied. “Just make sure the troops are prepped and organized.”

Rakev turned away and headed for the exit. He opened the door to the outside, and a cold breeze wafted in. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. He turned back briefly. “Oh, and before we go, it’s time to clean house. Kill the boy and the girl.”

Soren Chase woke up with a start, the remnants of a dream still floating through his mind.

He’d been talking to Sara, and she’d been crying about something. They’d been sharing stories about their childhood, and she had admitted something important to him. He could barely recall it, and even as he tried, it seemed to pull away from him, vanishing back into the blackness it had come from.

He abruptly sat up in bed, taking stock of where he was. He was alone and naked in a motel room. Well, not quite alone. He could hear the sound of someone humming in the shower. Friday. The thought of her brought back more memories of the night before, but they were surprisingly fuzzy. He didn’t remember getting drunk, but the events of last night had the same hazy quality to them. He only vaguely recalled them driving around until they ditched the car, and then found a place to sleep. It felt almost like those memories belonged to somebody else.

Soren looked at the clock to see that it was already seven in the morning. What the hell was he doing sleeping? He needed to be looking for Alex. He had a case to handle, one in which John’s son was depending on him.

As he tallied his sins, it occurred to him that he’d wrecked the real Ron Davis’s life last night. The police would likely charge Ron with assault at the restaurant, and throw him into jail. Then again, too many people saw Soren leave the restaurant looking like Ron, and it would be difficult to explain how he could have fled
and
been found unconscious in the bathroom. A decent lawyer should be able to ensure Ron stayed free. At least that’s what Soren hoped.

He swung his legs off the bed and, almost without thinking, created clothes for himself. Once he’d figured out how to conjure them, doing so felt surprisingly natural. He couldn’t deny it was also damn useful. He spotted Friday’s purse along the far wall, and began rummaging through it. He was pretty sure he’d given her his phone before he decided to become Ron what’s-his-face.

As soon as he checked it, his heart started hammering in his chest. There were a dozen missed phone calls, at least three voicemails, and several text messages. All of them were from Glen.

“Shit,” he said.

He thumbed through the text messages.

On my way to Sara.

Rakev has the Cursed Dagger of the Tsars. Called Terry. He’s helping with research.

Under attack at Wallace Institute. Help.

Fuck, Soren. Where are you?

Stabbed stoneskin in throat with scissors. Where R U?

People dead. Sara in hospital.

Soren called Glen immediately. The voice that answered sounded exhausted.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Glen asked.

“Training,” Soren said, but closed his eyes. “Is Sara alive?”

“Yes,” Glen said. “The hospital let her go this morning. Some of Wallace’s people weren’t so lucky.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We really needed a monster hunter,” Glen said.

“I’m sorry,” Soren repeated. There was nothing else he could say. “What happened?”

Glen filled him in, and Soren put his head in his hands. He’d left those people to be slaughtered. It had never occurred to him that Rakev would attack the Wallace Institute, but Glen’s theory made sense. They’d gotten too close to something Rakev was planning, and he’d reacted. Soren should have been there.

“Glen, I . . .” Soren started, and then stopped. He didn’t know what to say.

“How’s the training coming?” Glen asked. “Do you know how to become a pretender now?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because that’s what we need,” Glen said. “We captured someone, a human. He works for Rakev, but he’s not saying anything. At first I was thinking you could come down here, and knock some sense into him. But it occurred to me that there might be a better way of getting information.”

“Just tell me where you are,” Soren said. Glen gave him the address of the police station.

“I’m on my way.”

Soren hung up the phone just as the bathroom door opened, and Friday’s naked form appeared.

“Are you ready for round—what was it—twenty-two?” she asked as she walked into the room, and then she noticed Soren standing there. “What the fuck?”

She looked at him with an expression of horror so complete Soren briefly glanced down at his body to see if he’d developed boils or a rash. When he glanced up again, she was still staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

She crossed the room and grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the mirror over the dresser.

When he looked at himself, he still couldn’t see the problem. He was unshaven and his brown hair was tousled, but otherwise he saw the same trim, athletic figure he always did. He was dressed in his usual outfit—blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt—and even wearing his favorite sunglasses. Though he felt mentally a bit of a mess, physically he felt great.

But Friday stood there as if waiting for him to say something.

“Look, we need to get moving,” he said finally, for lack of something else to tell her. “We have one of Rakev’s men, and I need to take his place.”