Dark Descendant (7 page)

I took about twenty shots after that, experimenting. I tried aiming at things other than the

bull’s-eye. Being nowhere close to ambidextrous, I tried firing with my left hand. I even tried

shooting with my eyes closed.

Whatever I aimed at, whatever crappy technique I used, I hit my target one hundred

percent of the time, once and for all dismissing the statistical realm of possibility.

There was no more denying that I’d become a supernaturally good shot.

I headed back to the hotel in a daze, spaced out enough that I missed my stop on the

Metro. I decided to walk the rest of the way, figuring the fresh air might do me good. I’m

generally pretty good at denial, but the evidence was piling up too high. I might have been able

to talk myself out of believing the things I’d seen the cultists do last night. They could have been

tricks, after all, though who would go through such elaborate lengths to pull a trick like that on

me? But it was much harder to explain away the glyph on my face, or the way my body had

healed overnight, or the way I had suddenly become an expert marksman.

What am I talking about, “much harder”? It was
impossible
to explain away.

Much as I tried to convince myself that there had to be a rational explanation that didn’t

involve woowoo, I failed. I didn’t know where that left me—except with an aching head and an

urge to give in to hysteria—but I’d had to learn to accept some very unpalatable truths in my life,

so I would eventually find a way to accept this one.

I was in too much of a stupor to pay attention to what was going on around me, so at first

I didn’t notice the black Mercedes with the tinted windows that was pacing me. Even when the

car behind it started honking indignantly, it barely registered on my conscious mind. Then, the

Mercedes sped up a little, getting ahead of me and pulling into what would have been a parking

space if it weren’t for the fire hydrant.

The Mercedes’s door opened and a man in an expensive charcoal gray suit got out. I

froze in my tracks when I saw the stylized lightning-bolt glyph on the back of his hand.

SIX

He was not one
of Anderson’s people. He was a complete stranger to me, and the warm

smile that curved his lips as he looked me up and down did nothing to ease my instant,

instinctive dislike.

Many women would find him handsome. I supposed that objectively he was—tall, nicely

muscled, manly square jaw softened by dimples when he smiled, and lovely gray-blue eyes. But

the way he carried himself reminded me of every arrogant, entitled, self-centered country club

asshole Steph had ever introduced me to, all rolled up into one pretty package.

I considered trying to walk past him, but the look in his eye told me he had no intention

of letting me ignore him. There was nothing overtly threatening about him, but my gut was

screaming “danger, danger” even so. I’d ignored my gut instincts last night, and look where it

had gotten me.

“What do you want?” I growled at the stranger.

He blinked in what I suspected was surprise. I bet that smile of his had charmed every

woman he’d ever used it on, but I was made of sterner stuff.

The smile flickered for a moment, then came back at full force as he took a step toward

me. “My name is Alexis Colonomos,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

Instead of shaking his hand, I stepped backward, trying to keep a safe distance between

us. I had no idea what a safe distance might be, however. Despite my recent skepticism, I had no

doubt Alexis Colonomos would turn out to have supernatural powers of some sort.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, making no attempt to sound like I meant it. “Now what do

you want?”

The smile flickered again, and his eyes narrowed in what might have been anger as he let

his hand fall back to his side. When he put the smiley face back on, it had lost some of its

wattage, and there was a hard glint in his eye that suggested he was a man used to getting what

he wanted.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” he said, and there was an edge in his voice that

hadn’t been there before. “And have a little talk.” He gestured toward the open door of the

Mercedes.

“If you think I’m going to get into a car with a total stranger, you’re nuts.” I took another

step back, prepared to turn and bolt if he made a hostile move.

He didn’t, but his smile lost even more wattage, until it started to look more like a snarl.

“You’re
Liberi
,” he said from between gritted teeth. What were the chances he and Maggie

would use the same unusual term to describe what I apparently was if it were all some freaky cult

delusion? Yet another nail in the coffin of denial. “I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to.” And

everything about his body language said he wanted to very much.

Personally, I didn’t think I’d been rude enough to warrant the level of hostility that

radiated from this guy, but based on the behavior I’d witnessed last night, either it didn’t take

much to set a
Liberi
off, or I just had a natural knack for it.

“You can’t kill me,” I clarified, though I felt ridiculous making the claim. It was one

thing to almost kind of believe it, and quite another to truly
accept
it. “That doesn’t mean you can’t
hurt
me.” I’d seen evidence enough of that last night.

The smile turned into a sneer. “Cowardice isn’t becoming to a Descendant of Artemis.”

I guess I was supposed to be so insulted by the suggestion I was a coward that I would

meekly climb into the car. “There’s a difference between cowardice and caution,” I told him. “If you want to talk to me, then do it. If you don’t want to do it standing here in the street, then offer

to buy me a cup of coffee. I might take you up on it.”

Maybe the smartest thing for me to have done was to turn around and run away. The vibe

I was getting off this guy was anything but friendly. But I didn’t know what he wanted from me,

and I wasn’t sure that ignorance was bliss. Plus, I had no idea how he’d found me. Even if he

was some friend of Anderson’s—a friend I’d never seen hanging around the mansion—he

shouldn’t have been able to locate me when I was nowhere near any of my usual stomping

grounds.

Obviously, he
could
find me, and if I ran off now, he’d probably be even less friendly the

next time he did. Which was why I was prepared to at least listen to what he had to say.

“Then may I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked, and it looked like it physically hurt him

to concede.

“I’d love one. How ’bout we head over to that diner?” I pointed at a greasy spoon on the

opposite side of the street. It was doing a brisk business, so I figured it had good bad food and

served bottomless cups of coffee.

Alexis looked at the place and curled his lip in disdain. I pegged him for the kind of guy

who thought he was slumming it if he ate in a restaurant that charged less than five bucks for a

cup of coffee. “Fine,” he said, then slammed the door of the Mercedes with more force than

necessary.

I hate sore losers.

I kept just enough space between us to be out of arm’s reach as we crossed the street and

headed to the diner. He probably wasn’t going to try anything in broad daylight, in front of tons

of witnesses, but you can never be too careful.

When he reached the diner, he pushed the door open and held it for me. It meant I had to

brush by him to get inside, and I didn’t like it. I reminded myself once again that he wouldn’t

dare try anything on a crowded street. His expression darkened as he noticed my hesitation, but I

went inside before he could make an issue of it.

A waitress was clearing a table for two just as we walked in the door. The hostess

directed us to that table with a wave of her hand, and we slid into the booth in silence while the

waitress gathered up the remains of the previous patrons’ meal.

“Be right back,” she said with a distracted smile, then carried her loaded tray to the

kitchen. As far as I could see, there was only one other waitress in the whole place, which

explained why they were both moving so fast and looked so wild-eyed.

There were crumbs all over the place, and a smear of ketchup looking rather like a

bloodstain threatened to drip over the edge and onto my lap. I grabbed a napkin from the

dispenser to wipe it away, watching Alexis surreptitiously as I did. His lip remained curled in

that singularly disdainful sneer, and his arms were crossed over his chest as if he were trying to

minimize contact between himself and the diner. To say he looked out of place was an

understatement. No one else was even wearing a dress shirt, much less a suit and tie.

The waitress came back and wiped off our table with a damp rag, but she had a harried

look and wasn’t very careful about it. A couple of crumbs tumbled off the table and onto

Alexis’s lap. His face reddened and his eyes sparked and I thought sure he was about to make a

big scene. He restrained himself, however, and settled for staring daggers at her. It was all I

could do not to smile.

Have I mentioned that this guy rubbed me the wrong way?

“What can I get you?” the waitress asked, pulling out her pen and order pad without

making eye contact.

“Two cups of coffee, please,” I said, because I was afraid that if Alexis opened his mouth

he was going to be a total asshole.

“Anything else?”

“That’ll do it,” I said, and Alexis didn’t contradict me. I suspected he’d rather starve to

death than eat anything served at this place.

She was walking away before the last word left my mouth. If I couldn’t see with my own

two eyes how overworked she was, I’d have thought she was being rude.

I leaned back in my seat and eyed the dangerous-looking
Liberi
who sat across from me.

I got the distinct impression that he’d been planning to charm me when he’d stepped out of that

car, but I figured my attitude had killed that plan by now. Maybe I shouldn’t have come on so

strong right from the start, but I had a right to be grumpy after everything that had happened.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” I asked as the waitress put two ceramic cups

on the table and filled them with dark-as-pitch coffee. She reached into her apron and pulled out

a handful of creamers, leaving them in a pile in the center of the table. She opened her mouth—I

think she was going to ask if we needed anything else—but shut it again when she saw the

forbidding expression on Alexis’s face. He waited until she’d walked away to answer me.

“You’re new in town,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

I raised my eyebrows as I took a sip of coffee. “I am?”

He frowned at me, dark eyebrows forming a severe V. “You have to be. You’re not one

of ours, and you’re not one of Anderson’s.” He said Anderson’s name with another one of those

little sneers of his.

I sipped my coffee, wishing I’d been able to believe Maggie last night so I could have

asked her a lot more questions. There was a hell of a lot I didn’t know about being a
Liberi
. For instance, I had no idea what Alexis was talking about when he referred to “one of ours.” Nor did

I have any idea what—if anything—I should tell him about myself.

“Let’s say for the sake of argument that I
am
new in town. What’s it to you?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and pushing his untouched coffee out

of the way. “You’d best have a care how you talk to me,” he said in a menacing whisper that

carried just fine even in the noisy diner. “Descendants of Artemis are rare, and therefore valuable

to us, but that will protect you only so far.”

Ah, we’d reached the threat-making stage of the conversation. I’d had a feeling this was

coming. Maybe if I hadn’t just had the scariest night of my life, I’d have been more intimidated.

Maybe it would have been
smart
to be more intimidated.

I let my hand slide under the table and smiled broadly—not the reaction Alexis was

hoping for, if his scowl was anything to go by. “You know what I was doing before you

ambushed me?” I asked, keeping my body language completely relaxed as I unzipped the front

compartment of my backpack. I rested my hand lightly on the .38 Special. “I was at a gun range,

polishing my skills. Turns out I’m a very good shot. Feel like giving me some more target

practice?”

I had no intention of actually shooting the guy, or even taking the gun out. I wasn’t even

sure I’d be able to shoot a person in the heat of battle, much less in cold blood, and I sure as hell

wasn’t waving a gun around in a crowded D.C. diner. Felony charges and a prison stay would

not
improve my situation. But part of being a good P.I. is being a good actress.

I was a good P.I.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled at me.

I blinked at him innocently. “I wouldn’t? How the hell would you know that? You don’t

even know my name, do you?” I’d seen no reason to introduce myself, and if he’d already

known my name, I suspected he’d have flaunted the knowledge by now. “I could be sweet as

sunshine or a total psycho bitch for all you know.”

I leaned forward till I was almost nose-to-nose with him, meeting his glare with a good

bit of steel. “Back the hell off, or you’re going to find out the hard way,” I said as I cocked the