Burned (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 1) (17 page)

M
y eyes
slowly opened and a soft groan escaped me. My body felt like it had been processed through a meat grinder. It took a minute for me to realize I was back in Farah's apartment. How did I get here?

I tried to roll over on my side, but my lower back screamed in protest. Although I couldn't see the bruises, I could sure as hell feel them. Those Ifrits were not kidding around. When I found the party responsible for sending them in my direction, they would be very, very sorry. Or they would be -- when I could walk.

The door creaked open and Farah's red head poked inside. "Are you up?"

"Mentally, yes." I struggled to sit up.

"Wait, I'll help," Farah said, hurrying over.

She lifted a few fluffy pillows from the chair next to the bed and tucked them behind me. I pushed my hands against the mattress and slid onto my bottom.

"I feel like hell," I said.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you look better than you did when you got here. I thought you were dead."

I jerked my head toward her. "Seriously?"

Her expression was sincere. "I've never seen anyone carry you before. Your body was limp." She shuddered. "Captain Handsome had to calm me down before he brought you inside."

I blinked at her. "Reed carried me?" I had no memory of escaping the plant.

"The cop was with him. She seemed concerned, too."

"Were they okay?" I hoped so. Any injuries they suffered would be on me.

Farah nodded. "She was limping and bloody, but otherwise okay. He looked like he came straight from a photo shoot. Asshole."

I snorted. "That asshole carried my broken body all the way here from Willow Street."

"I offered to thank him in my own special way, but, sadly, he declined. Again." She cocked an eyebrow. "You owe me one T-shirt, by the way. Detective Thompson apologized for the gaping hole on the side of it."

"Put it on my tab."

Farah sat on the edge of the bed. "So what happened? He said you got attacked by Ifrits."

I nodded. "We were supposed to be meeting the organ trafficker."

"But it was a trap."

"Apparently so." Never trust anonymous texts. Stupid.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Pain pills?"

My shoulders sagged. "Oh, gods and stars. I do need pain pills." I couldn't believe I had to take pain pills. Being human sucked.

"Be back in a sec." She moved swiftly, using the shadows and light. I had a glass of water and two pills in my hand before I could say 'thank you.'

I swallowed the pills and washed them down with a gulp of water. "Why do you have a stash of pills?"

Farah smiled demurely. "I've had more than my share of human guests with hangovers."

Ah. "Is my phone here?" I had several calls to make if I intended to find out who was behind the attack.

"Here." Farah took the phone from the bedside table and handed it to me. "Are you calling your Prince Charming?"

I shot her a confused look. "Prince Charming?"

"Well, he did rescue you. That's twice now, isn't it? Or three times if you count the warehouse."

"Bullshit," I replied hotly. "One Ifrit was already dead by the time I blacked out, thanks to Thompson. She and I played as big of a role in our survival as he did."

She held up her hands, palms out. "Whoa, sorry. Guess I hit a nerve."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Just because I'm human doesn't mean I can't take care of myself." Unless I'm being attacked by two Ifrits in an abandoned steam plant. Then I need help.

"I know, Alyse. You don't need to prove anything to me."

I dialed the first number on my mental list.

"Falcon Industries," a male voice said.

"I need to speak with Jamie Fenton," I said. "It's urgent." This wasn't Jamie's number, but I suspected the person on the other end of the line knew how to reach him.

"I'm sorry, but you have the wrong number."

I ignored the lie. "Give him this number. Tell him his niece needs to speak with him. It's a matter of life and death." I hung up.

"I thought your handler's number was disconnected," Farah said.

"It was. This is a Hail Mary." Falcon Industries is one of the Shadow Elite's fronts. I had no idea who was running it, but I figured they'd know how to get in touch with Jamie. Since I didn't know who was behind my cuffs, I preferred to control the information that traveled through the agency. At this point, though, I had to take the risk. I needed to get in touch with Jamie. He was the closest thing I had to family in the Shadow Elite and I trusted him. Even if someone higher up in the agency blacklisted me and cut off my resources, I had confidence that Jamie would do what he could to help me. If my whereabouts had become common knowledge among my enemies, then I needed to prepare for more visitors.

"You think the Ifrits were sent by someone from the agency?" Farah asked.

"Possibly. Or by former enemies who know I'm here." And vulnerable. I particularly hated that part.

"Or by the organ trader," Farah added.

"Or the killer, if it's not the organ trader." Damn. The list of those who wanted to kill me was way too long. If I was going to be stuck in this body indefinitely, I needed to turn over a new leaf.

"My head hurts," Farah said.

"Join the club." I raised my arms above my head and stretched. I was starting to feel a little better. Hopefully, my minimal healing powers would kick in now that I was awake and refreshed.

I threw the sheet back and Farah jumped up. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to shower and then I have a few people to visit. I'd also like to pay another visit to the armory. I need to be weapon-forward. Mine haven't been appropriate for the occasion."

Her mouth dropped open. "Alyse, you can't. You're still recuperating. Use the phone."

"Not as intimidating," I said.

"Then let me come with you," she begged.

I shook my head adamantly. "I almost got Thompson and Reed killed yesterday, which in no way helps my case. They're probably going to arrest me as soon as I'm healed for luring them into a trap. Until I know who was behind the attack, I'm not endangering anyone else."

Farah bit her lip. "At least call Flynn. If anything happens to him, you won't feel so bad."

At the mention of Flynn, I thought about Mix's theory. I still wasn't convinced that Flynn and Tessa were involved, not when there were other, more likely options.

"I'll consider it," was all I said to Farah. No need to worry her.

"Tell me where you're going so I know where to send Prince...Captain Reed if you don't come back."

I glared at her. Prince Charming, my ass. "I'm going to start with Hugo, the guy who works under O'Leary. He was supposed to set up the meeting with the organ guy. Let's see if he thinks he did."

I
flagged
down a cab to take me across town and quickly regretted it. The road resembled a parking lot and, even though I wasn't in a hurry, I couldn't stand sitting idly in the back of a cab. We made it about six blocks before I gave up. I paid the driver and fled the stuffy interior of the cab before I vomited all over it.

I hobbled the rest of the way to Hugo's office and ignored the pain in my chest when I breathed. The air was thick with humidity, which didn't help matters. If I still felt this crappy after my chat with Hugo, I'd ask about seeing the Protectorate's healer. It was humiliating, but I couldn't afford any permanent damage to this body. Until I sorted out the cuffs, I didn't know how long I'd need it.

On the plus side, thanks to Farah's cosmetology skills, my bruises were invisible to casual passersby and I had my Glock in its armpit holster. It was hard to conceal under a formfitting Phillies T-shirt, but the obnoxious red color of the shirt was so blinding, I figured no one would notice the gun-shaped lump.

In the end, I'd decided against calling Flynn. If Tessa was somehow involved in the murders and trying to kill me, I didn't want to give her another opportunity. Besides, I wasn't going to another clandestine meeting in a creepy, abandoned building. Right now, I was entering an accountant's office in broad daylight. The only thing I had to fear was stale coffee and boredom.

The reception area was empty again and I laughed when I looked at the clock on the desk. Five minutes past twelve. She was consistent, I'd give her that.

"Hugo, my love," I called, strolling down the corridor to his office. I wondered if he'd finished
Dracula
. Maybe he'd moved on to
War and Peace
.

There was no answer. Out of habit, I slowed my pace and felt the daggers pressed against my skin. Well, I wasn't going to leave them behind, was I? Just because I brought the Glock didn't mean I had to take them away. They might get jealous.

"Hugo," I said again. I kept my voice neutral. No need to have him reaching for the drawer again.

Still no answer. I edged my way toward the office. The light was on, but there was no sign of Hugo.

I crossed the threshold and looked around for signs of trouble. Everything seemed to be in order. Books on the shelves, ledgers on the desk, computer. Hugo must have gone to lunch, too. Maybe it was Administrative Professionals' Day, and he'd actually taken her to lunch. There were no flowers on the reception desk, though. A guy like Hugo would definitely default to flowers. He didn't strike me as someone who had the imagination to experiment.

I took the opportunity to peruse the contents of his desk. Maybe I could find information on the identity of the organ trader. It was unlikely, though. His files were undoubtedly squeaky clean or he wouldn't have a job with a crime syndicate.

I thumbed through the books on the shelves. If he had a secret hiding place for files or flash drives, that was the obvious place to look. Well, obvious to someone like me.

Bram Stoker's
Dracula
was back on the shelf, nestled between Mary Shelley and Oscar Wilde. Apparently, Hugo was a stickler for alphabetization. No surprise there.

I opened the top drawer of his desk, the one he'd reached for during my last visit. Sure enough, a nine millimeter rested inside. I closed the drawer and opened the drawer below it.

"What are you doing in here?" a voice asked.

I jumped back about a foot and knocked against the bookshelf. "Niko?"

He stood framed in the doorway, wearing his usual tasteful suit and pastel tie. I noticed Mickey lurking behind him.

"Are you guys following me again? I thought I told you that wasn't a good idea."

Niko held up his hands. "We're not following you regularly. We heard about your unfortunate encounter on Willow Street, and the boss asked us to check on your progress." He faltered. "And you, of course. Make sure you're okay."

He genuinely seemed to care. I sighed inwardly. Niko was too nice for his line of work.

"As you can see, I'm fine." I cocked my head, thinking. "How did you hear about my unfortunate encounter?"

"O'Leary told us."

"And how did he find out?" I pressed him.

Niko glanced back at Mickey and they both shrugged.

"I think it was Pinky," Mickey said. "That kid's pretty plugged in."

"So why are you in Hugo's office?" Niko asked.

I straightened a few papers on the desk. "He was supposed to set up a meeting for me. I was checking on whether he followed through."

"What kind of meeting?" Mickey asked.

I decided to be straight with them. "I need to talk to your mysterious organ trafficker and Hugo agreed to make it happen."

They exchanged glances.

"Doesn't have anything to do with the heirloom, does it?" Niko asked.

I shook my head. "I'm trying to keep myself out of prison. Someone's trying to frame me for the murders of the supernaturals and humans."

"Or add you to the list of victims," Mickey said.

He wasn't wrong. Willow Street was not a frame job. It was a death trap.

"The text I received said I'd be meeting with the organ guy, so it had to be someone who knew I was trying to make that happen." Of course, that list was fairly long. I'd been shooting my mouth off to a lot of people since I'd been back. I really needed to stop doing that.

"Well, you're not going to get any answers here," Niko said. "Why don't you let us take you home? You look like you could use some rest."

I eyed them. "Do you guys know how I can get in touch with the organ trafficker?" Let them be good for something besides stalking me.

They shook their heads.

"We don't know who he is, but O'Leary does," Niko said. "We'll ask him for you."

"I appreciate that. Where'd you park the Challenger?"

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. I guess he didn't expect me to take them up on their offer.

"Out front," he replied.

"Good, I'll let you take me back to South Street. This time." It seemed more convenient than paying for a cab and less painful than walking.

"Shotgun," I called, as we crossed the sidewalk.

Mickey scowled at me but dutifully slid into the back of the car. I flashed a triumphant smile as I climbed into the passenger seat. Although the mobsters weren't quite at Protectorate level, it was comforting to know that their honor code still included claims of shotgun.

T
hat evening
, Farah had a date with Rocco, so I decided to insert myself into the life of my other best friend. The fact that Mix and Paulette were having a date night of their own didn't really impact my decision. I needed a station to park my crazy train and Mix's apartment was it.

I tossed another piece of popcorn into my mouth and kept on talking. My mind was in overdrive, which meant that Mix and Paulette had no chance of finishing their movie in peace.

"Someone sent those Ifrits to kill me. I know it. You should've seen the way they attacked us. It was like WWF meets The Bachelor with ugly people. It had to be the rogue mage. Maybe she's working with the organ trafficker, targeting the Nephilim." I tapped my chin. "Where is the damn organ guy hiding?"

"Alyse, could you possibly wait until the conclusion of one drama before presenting us with another?" Mix asked.

"It's Lord of the Stinkin' Rings," I said, stepping in front of the television. "You already know what happens. My drama is more exciting. We don't know how it will end."

"If you keep standing there," he said, "I can think of a few options."

I flopped back onto the sofa. "This is life and death and you don't even care. Is this what law firm life does to you?"

"Jeremy, she needs your help," Paulette said in a soothing tone. "Let's finish the movie later."

"Thank you, Paulette," I said and offered her the bowl of popcorn.

Mix turned off the television and looked at me. "Happy now?"

"Well, happy is a bit of a stretch but..."

Mix rolled his eyes. "Organ traffickers need a place to store their wares, right?"

"And possibly a place to perform the surgeries as well," I said. It depended on their level of involvement in the process. They might simply transport the organs to eager buyers on the black market, or they might go so far as to run private clinics with a team of doctors and nurses. Usually the donors were vulnerable and desperate for cash. There seemed to be no shortage of those. They were human, though. Their organs wouldn't fetch the steep price of the Nephilim organs.

"What about Pennsbury Hospital?" Paulette suggested. "That's still empty, right?"

I vaulted off the sofa. "Paulette, that's brilliant." I snapped my fingers. "Let's go. Mix, you can drive. Drop me off about two blocks away. Their surveillance won't extend that far."

Mix groaned and buried his face in his hands. "You can't do this, Alyse."

I blinked. "Do what?"

He faced Paulette. "Would you mind giving us a few minutes? I need to talk to Alyse alone."

Paulette nodded. "Of course, Jeremy. It's beautiful weather outside. I'll go for a walk."

"This won't take long," Mix said, his eyes focused back on me. He seemed pissed off. My stomach clenched. I'd only ever seen Mix angry a handful of times. It was unsettling.

Paulette picked up her handbag and vacated the sofa. Mix waited until he heard the click of the front door before continuing the conversation.

"Are you trying to ruin my life?" he asked.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" I asked.

He stood and paced the room, his agitated hands flying in all directions. "I have spent the last few years pulling myself together, creating a semi-normal life for myself. I have a good job, a girlfriend, my own place."

"And how am I ruining that?" I'd been in town for five minutes. I wasn't talented enough to ruin his life that quickly.

He stopped in front of me. "Alyse, wherever you go, trouble follows. I was sad when you left, heartbroken even, but after a while, I realized that my life was easier without you in it."

One of my best friends was telling me that his life was better without me. I staggered backward like he punched me in the gut.

"Where is this coming from?"

"I didn't want to say anything because you came here under tough circumstances, but things are quickly spiraling out of control. You're like Trouble's whipping girl and you don't seem to care."

"How could you possibly think I don't care?"

"Because you're you," he said. "Nothing fazes you. You're like the Energizer Bunny. You just keep going. You don't ever take time to process. To feel." He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Don't you feel anything, Alyse?"

The pained expression on his face made me want to cry, but the tears stopped somewhere between my heart and my brain.

"Of course I have feelings," I said quietly. "This whole experience has been torture." Mix didn't understand. When you're a covert agent, stopping to process gets you killed. Feelings get you killed. I was trained to handle intense and dangerous situations without breaking a sweat. Cool as a cucumber. That's how I survived every lethal encounter so far, and that's how I intended to survive my current predicament.

"I'm sorry about your cuffs," he said. "I really am. And I know that you have nothing to do with these murders, so I hope you clear your name, but I am trying very hard not to get dragged down with you. I have Paulette to consider now. I can't run headlong into trouble whenever you snap your fingers."

He stood up and straightened his shoulders, his face beet red with anger and frustration. I'd never seen Mix so worked up. His feelings for Paulette were stronger than I realized.

"I haven't asked you to run headlong into anything," I said. "Even before I left, I never asked you. You just did it."

"Because you knew I would," he said. "You knew how I felt about you and you used those feelings to your advantage."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Mix, I thought we'd moved on from all that a long time ago. I never used you. I wouldn't do that to someone I care about."

"Times have changed, Alyse. I don't know if there's room for you anymore," he said. "To be perfectly honest, I think it's too hard having you back in my life."

I winced.

"If it's any consolation, if I don't find the real killers, I won't be back in your life for very long." I gave him a rueful smile.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I think you should go. I have a quiet evening of Orcs and Hobbits planned with my girlfriend and I don't need any more interruptions."

I was an unwelcome interruption. He wasn't kidding -- times really had changed.

"I'm sorry, Mix. Truly. I'll get to the hospital on my own. I never meant to cause you any trouble."

I let myself out, feeling dejected. Paulette was on the sidewalk out front, her thumbs working their way through a text.

"I'm going now," I told her. "Sorry if I ruined the movie."

"It's okay." She smiled and patted my arm. "I'm sure Jeremy will come around. I know he hasn't given up on you. Not really. He talks about you all the time."

"Yes, but do the words he uses involve lots of curses?"

"You two have a long history. That doesn't disappear overnight because one of you is upset."

"Thanks, Paulette. I wish he were as understanding as you."

"It's easy for me," she said with a shrug. "I'm not the one he's upset with."

She went back inside and I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands. I couldn't afford to waste another day waiting for the mysterious organ trafficker to make contact.

My phone buzzed and I glanced at it.
You'll find your man at Pennsbury Hospital
. Niko and Mickey must have given my request to O'Leary. Ah well, at least it confirmed my destination.

I adjusted my holster and went on my way. I didn't bother to call for backup. Mix was right -- I made life too difficult and dangerous for the people closest to me.

So I hopped on a bus and headed for trouble all by myself.