A Risky Proposition (28 page)

Lauringer gave a wry chuckle as she stepped into a pair of navy, high-heeled pumps that had been discarded near the stairs.  “I’ve found that fame and fortune can have a way of backfiring on you.  Ready, then?”

I nodded, rewrapping the vial of immortality before I stuck it back in my pocket.  “Uh, just one more thing.  I know you don’t think finding the goblin will help, but just in case, would you be able to tell me how to find the Hell Ride?”

Lauringer’s golden eyes clouded.  “Oh, Sydney.  You don’t want to do that.”

“You’re right—I probably don’t,” I replied on a mirthless laugh.  “But I’d like to know anyway.”

“You remind me a little of myself,” she said softly.  “I only hope that your determination doesn’t end up getting you killed…or worse.”  

She pursed her lips, looking torn.

“Please,” I requested with quiet resolve.

She sighed in resignation.

“Alright, Sydney.  If you insist on pursuing this course, I suppose I can’t stop you.  Calling the Hell Ride is frighteningly simple, although only those belonging to the Unseelie Court dare to do so,” she warned.  

“During the hour between midnight and one a.m. you must stand in a ‘tween place and recite the following incantation:  ‘Unholy Court, I call you this night; Come bear me away in the absence of light; I surrender to darkness as clinging as soot; Light’s goodness lies shadowed and evil’s afoot.’”

“Could I borrow a pen and paper to write that down?” I asked, knowing I’d never remember it correctly.

Lauringer gave me an unreadable look and then snapped her gloved fingers.  A green marble pen appeared on the kitchen table next to a small pad of textured paper.  I shook my head and smiled, amazed at her casual use of magic, as she bent down to write the incantation for me.

“What’s a ’tween place?” I asked, wedging the folded paper into the pocket with the crystal brooch.

“Places where two realities meet—it can be as simple as a doorway, a window, or even the edge of a shadow, where dark and light meet.  But the Hell Ride is no joke, Sydney.  The Unseelies delight in the torture of mortals and, although it happens rarely and the incidents are well-concealed, there have been…accidents.   By choosing to join them, you surrender a part of your will to them.  I would not advise this course of action.”

“Duly noted.  I’d probably be too scared to do it anyway.”  I grinned.

“You should be.”  My grin evaporated at her serious tone. 

“Ready?” she asked after a moment.

I nodded again. 

Lauringer spoke a single word.  One second we were standing in her kitchen, and the next we were standing in the lobby of the Seelie Police Station.  I gasped in amazement.  Galen, the grizzle-bearded dwarf behind the counter, looked equally shocked.

“Good evening, Master Dwarf,” Lauringer said pleasantly.  “I would like to speak with the officer in charge of the death djinn investigation.  Please tell him or her that Lauringer wishes to offer her services with regard to the inspection of the unaligned souls.  And I would appreciate you making it clear that I am pressed for time and will need to conduct my investigation immediately, if I am to do so at all.”

“Right away, madam,” growled Galen.  “We would be honored to accept your offer of assistance.”  He bowed from atop his stool, and then hopped to the ground.  His head disappeared below the long counter as he hurried toward the door leading to the back offices.

Lauringer grinned at my bemused expression.  “Despite my inclination toward privacy, sometimes celebrity has its perks.”

It wasn’t long before the door behind the counter opened again, and Sparrow strode out to meet us.  His dark hair was tousled, as if he’d been sleeping, and his button down shirt was absent of its tie.  He greeted Lauringer with deferent professionalism, his dark blue eyes registering surprise when they saw me.

I imagined him warm in his bed moments before, and the image was so enticing that I wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and join him there.  My mouth went dry at the thought, and I gave him a shaky smile.  His eyes held mine as he extended his hand to Lauringer.

“Lauringer, I’m Agent Sparrow.  I’m the detective in charge of the death djinn investigation.  It’s a great pleasure to meet you, and I would personally like to thank you for your generous offer of assistance.  I understand that your time is precious and I would be more than happy to escort you to our containment room immediately.” 

He gaze roved over my face.  “Sydney, I’m glad you’re here.  Full of surprises as usual, I see.”

I smirked at him.  “Speaking of surprises, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you in private.” 

Despite the fact that I wanted to crawl into bed with him, and run my hands through his hair, and explore the tattoos inked into the muscled contours of his chest…I hadn’t forgotten about him sending Galena to spy on me.

“I see you two know each other,” Lauringer observed with a faint smile.  “Well, thank you for coming so quickly, Agent Sparrow, and I apologize for disturbing you after hours.  When Sydney explained the situation, I felt compelled to come immediately.  As you know, magical signatures fade with time.  It may already be too late for me to glean any new information from the unaligned souls, but I will do my best.”

“Much appreciated,” Sparrow said with a nod.  “Follow me, please.”

He led us through the door into the back room.  Only a few of the wooden desks were occupied at this time of night, but the smell of coffee was still thick in the air.  It seemed a permanent fixture of the room, an aroma that was probably never absent long enough to fade completely. 

One of the desk’s occupants glanced up as we passed, then did a double take at the sight of Lauringer.  He nudged his co-worker, who nearly fell out of his chair when he realized who she was, and in turn threw a wad of paper at the officer several desks over.  She looked up in annoyance, which faded as her eyes widened and then followed Lauringer across the room. 

Lauringer either didn’t notice the commotion she was causing, or she simply chose to ignore it.

Sparrow continued down the hallway that led to the outer courtyard.  He stopped to unlock one of the doors lining the passage with a long, silver key.  Then he pulled it open and flicked on an overhead light to reveal a large, perfectly round room whose dimensions seemed impossible from the outside. 

Rows of shelves lined the walls around the entire circumference, the jewel-like twinkle of hundreds of multi-hued crystal vials winking out from their depths, like the hoard of some obsessively organized dragon.  The dull gleam of copper and bronze oil lamps added to the effect.  Wooden work tables with careful spaces around each one occupied the center of the room.  When I stepped inside, the padded floor felt soft and spongy beneath my sandals.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the procedures and organization of a containment room,” Sparrow said to Lauringer, waiting for her to nod as a formality.  “The unaligned souls that have been rescued from death djinn possession are in this area.”  He indicated a sprawling section of shelves to our left. 

“That many?” I whispered, amazed and saddened at the sheer number of vials there.

Both Sparrow and Lauringer turned to look at me.  “I’m afraid so, Sydney,” Sparrow answered quietly.

Lauringer pursed her lips, an angry light filling her golden eyes.  “Sydney’s right.  The number of unaligned souls you have found is astounding.  Which begs the question, Agent Sparrow—what more do you need to prosecute the death djinns for this outrage?”

Sparrow ran an agitated hand through his dark hair and sighed. 

“Believe me; I would like nothing more than to see the death djinns prosecuted for this.  But certain questions have come to light that must be answered before the case can be satisfactorily closed.  King Moab insists that none of his people would deal in unaligned souls and has demanded a more detailed investigation into this matter.  And he is not someone that can be ignored—his influence extends to certain high ranking members of the Seelie Court.”  He gave Lauringer a pointed look.

“I would think that such blatant disregard for mortal life would be more important than the friendship between two heads of state—no matter how high they rank,” she said stonily.

“And I assure you that once I can prove the death djinns’ guilt, it won’t matter who’s in bed with whom,” he answered in a heated tone.  “However, as long as the question of their innocence remains, I have no choice but to keep digging for more proof.”

Lauringer gave him an unreadable look and then turned toward the shelves.  “Thank you, Agent Sparrow.  I would like to begin with the soul belonging to the woman you found.”

“Certainly, it’s this one in the red vial,” he said, removing it and handing it to Lauringer.  “There should be a file attached to each of the vials detailing any information we have discovered.  Though I’m afraid the files are rather slim.”

She turned her attention to the vial.  “I will have to examine the woman as well,” she mumbled.  “I will be a little while in looking these over,” she said, glancing at us.  “I don’t wish to be rude, but I concentrate better when I’m alone.  Would you mind?  I’ll let you know when I’ve completed my examinations.”

“Of course,” Sparrow agreed politely.  “We’ll be in my office—turn left when you exit the containment room, and it’s the last door on the right.”

Lauringer nodded absently, her interest already reabsorbed by the vial she held.  Sparrow motioned for me to follow him back out into the corridor and he shut the door behind us.  Then he grasped my hand and pulled me down the hallway at a fast walk until we were ensconced in the privacy of his office. 

He pushed the lock flush against the knob and dragged me into his arms with a soft, “Come here, Sydney.”

His lips tasted mine gently, almost questioningly, at first.  I welcomed him into my mouth, and he pushed me against the door with the warm weight of his body.  His fingers twined with mine and he slowly raised both my hands above my head, imprisoning them there as he began a questing invasion of my mouth.  The kiss was hot enough to fry my brain and make me forget my earlier displeasure over him sending Galena to spy on me.

He hardened, pressing into me through the barrier of our clothing, and I writhed against him, wondering if he might have a couch hidden somewhere nearby.  He groaned into my mouth, his Irish brogue husky as he muttered, “Not that your outfit isn’t quite becoming, but I preferred what you were wearing this morning.”

I pictured the thin tank-top and soft cotton sleep pants.  Then I pictured us kissing on my bed.  I smiled against his lips.  “And I preferred the location.”

He chuckled and pulled me into his arms, placing a kiss on the top of my head.  “I’ve been thinking about you all day.  And what in the realm are those lumps in your pants?” he asked, leaning back from me and staring dubiously down at the bulging front pockets of my jeans.

“Oh, yeah.”  I put my hands over my unshapely pockets, flushing with embarrassment.  “We can’t all have magical disappearing pockets, you know.”

His brow rose in question.

“The night you captured Balthus in the lamp,” I explained, “you stuck it in your jacket and it disappeared.  When I put something in my pocket, on the other hand, it tends to stay there as a thing-shaped lump.”

“Relocation spell,” Sparrow supplied in an amused tone. 

I pulled the crystal brooch from one pocket, hastily shoving the paper with the Hell Ride incantation deeper into the fabric compartment.  I had the distinct feeling that Sparrow would be none too pleased to discover my continuing interest in that subject.  I held the huge crystal formation up against my shirt and flashed Sparrow a wide smile.  “How do you like my new brooch?”

He visibly struggled with his expression before answering, “It’s quite an eye-catching piece.”

“It was a gift from one of the women I work for.”  I grinned.  “Don’t worry—it’s not really my style.”  

I snorted at Sparrow’s look of relief.

I shoved the thing back into one stretched-out pocket, then pulled the napkin with the vial out of the other.  “Here, I guess you should have this.  We found it hidden in my penthouse.  Lauringer says it’s a vial of immortality and I’m guessing it belongs to Balthus.  I suppose it’s too much to hope that it might actually help with the investigation?”

He took the forest green vial and held it up to the light.  “This is very rare, Sydney.  I’ll perform a detailed examination of it just in case, but I can’t think how it would be connected to the unaligned souls.”

He glanced back down at me.  “If an immortal is foolish enough to trade away their immortality, that’s their affair—the rules designed for the taking of souls don’t apply.  You’d think Balthus would have kept something this valuable in his containment safe, though.”

Sparrow looked thoughtful.  “It’s not really the type of thing I was looking for when I searched your penthouse, but I’m still surprised that I didn’t find it.  Where was it?”

“The vent,” I answered with a smirk.

“Sneaky,” he said, humor coloring his expression.  “I’ll have to remember to look there next time.  Of course, I was a bit distracted that evening.”  His sapphire eyes turned wicked.

“Oh, no,” I laughed, stepping away and scooting behind his desk.  “We have things to discuss.  And don’t even try to tell me that you felt anything other than annoyance with me that night.”