Hint of Danger, page 8
part #1 of Undercover Magic Series
“Uh . . .” she hedged, her mind frantically scrambling for a believable cover story. Where was Finley when she needed him? “I’m trying to trace family lineages.”
“Oh?” he asked, sounding politely curious.
Yeah, Lina. Why the hell would you be interested in that?
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Trying to track the appearance of certain magical abilities and follow them back to their origin to pinpoint the initial source or deviation.”
Wait, what? She barely resisted the urge to smother herself with her hands. Lina had no clue what the bullshit she’d just spouted was supposed to mean, but Alistair looked appropriately impressed, so she figured it at least made some kind of sense.
“That’s a large undertaking.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “You can understand my need for a diversion.”
“Indeed. And what have you discovered thus far? Anything interesting in your own family history?”
Lina’s eyes narrowed. Was she imagining it, or did he look far more than casually interested all of a sudden? Alistair steepled his hands beneath his chin as he waited for her to answer.
“No, nothing conclusive yet I’m afraid,” she answered vaguely.
He nodded, as if he’d assumed as much. “These things take time.” He paused, seeming to consider his words before adding, “If I may offer a word of advice?”
“Of course.”
“Be careful, Lina.”
Mouth suddenly dry, Lina asked, “Careful?”
“Uncovering family secrets is not always exciting as one might think. In fact, it can sometimes be quite dangerous.”
Lina had already experienced a myriad of emotions since her impulsive decision to talk to Alistair, but this was the first time a true tendril of unease unfurled.
“What . . . what do you mean?”
The light in the room seemed to flicker, momentarily casting his face in shadow. “Sometimes that which we hope to uncover is better left dead and buried.”
The color drained from her face, and her entire body trembled. Sweat-slicked hands clenched the arms of her chair as her heart raced. Then Alistair laughed, and the shadows fled, causing her to question whether she’d simply imagined them in the first place.
Lina let out her own uneven laugh. “Consider me warned.”
Chapter Ten
Nord
“Fin, come take a look at this,” Nord said, holding up a crime scene photo he’d located.
His partner dropped the stack he’d been sorting through and moved around the table to stand beside him.
“You found it,” he breathed.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s hardly definitive proof.”
Finley pointed to the close up of the sigil. “It’s practically a perfect match for the one we found on that woman.”
“Practically. All this tells us is that this kind of magic has been used before. And,” he tapped the file folder spread out on the table in front of him, “if you read the case notes, it says that they were never able to solve this case. Which means, same sigil or not, we don’t have a suspect. So, we’re really no closer than we were when we started.”
Finley nudged Nord with his shoulder. “That may be, but there’s also a witness list. Maybe it’s not a smoking gun, but it’s a lead. People for us to question.”
Nord lifted the list of names Finley referred to, but before he could inspect it, Finley plucked it from his hand, eyes rapidly scanning it.
“There,” Finley said, slapping the paper. “Davis Crombie. He’s our ticket.”
Nord raised a brow.
“Right. I forget that you haven’t been around for a while. Crombie is a notorious black-market goods dealer. People, artifacts, weapons, drugs. You name it, he sells it.”
“And this helps us how?”
“Well, Crombie worked out a deal with the Brotherhood several years back. He tells us what we want to know when we want to know it, and we keep him out of prison.”
Nord’s other brow lifted to join its twin. “The Brotherhood is endorsing trafficking?”
Finley grimaced. “Not in so many words. As long as certain lines aren’t crossed, we don’t interfere.”
“And when they are?”
“We put a stop to what we can.”
“But Crombie stays free,” Nord surmised.
Finley nodded. “Which is why he’s our ticket. He can’t say no. If he doesn’t have the answers we need, he’ll find them.”
Nord made a low sound in his throat. He was hardly a fan, but he understood the need for a good informant. “Deal or not, Crombie steps out of line, his face meets my fist.”
“Understood, mate. Violence isn’t off the table if he yanks too hard at his chains.”
“Excellent,” Nord said, knowing his smile was feral.
Finley shook his head. “Fucking berserkers. One hint of danger and they get a fucking hard-on. You’d think I just invited you to join my sex club.”
Nord suppressed a sigh. He should have known Finley would bring that up again after this morning. He’d gotten out of having to explain earlier, but it seemed that his grace period was over.
Trying to avoid the conversation, he asked, “You have a sex club?”
Finley rolled his eyes. “You’re missing the point, mate.”
Nord bit back his laughter and gave in, knowing Fin wouldn’t let it go until Nord gave him some kind of explanation. “We call it the bloodlust for a reason, Brother. If violence isn’t an option, sex is a great alternative. Although, that might be too mild a term for it.”
“What . . . sex?”
Nord nodded. “The frenzy,” he paused, knowing that one who’d never experienced it couldn’t possibly understand. “Let’s just say, most partners can’t handle it. They don’t have the stamina.”
Finley fell uncharacteristically silent. “So what, you into orgies or something?”
Nord closed his eyes. “Now who’s missing the point?”
“So bloodlust . . . that what happened this morning?” he asked, all trace of levity gone.
Nord nodded.
“Lina triggered it?”
He nodded again.
Finley crossed his arms. “How?”
“She had a dream—a memory—from the night she was murdered.”
Finley cursed softly. “And your instinct to protect took over,” he muttered. “Makes sense. But this morning in the gym, that was enough to satisfy it?”
Nord grunted. “More like it was enough to blunt the edge. I was able to regain control.”
His partner gave him a concerned look. “It’s been a long time since you lost control,” he guessed.
Nord dipped his chin.
“You tell Lina what happened?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Most women are scared of it . . . the violence,” Nord admitted in a low voice. “For good reasons. Without control . . .” A shudder ran down his back.
“Without control?” Finley prompted.
Nord’s expression was bleak when it met Finley’s. “Men have murdered their lovers and had absolutely no idea until they woke up beside their corpse.”
Finley paled. “Fuck.”
“Most people remember the berserkers as mindless killing machines, and maybe we were, but they don’t take into account the sheer amount of training we undergo at the first sign of the call. We are taught how to channel the rage from an early age. How to suppress it until it’s safe to let go. When we step onto a battlefield, it may appear as though we are little more than wild beasts, but in reality, we are probably the most focused men on that field. So a loss of control for someone like me . . . it’s practically unheard of.”
Nord could tell by Finley’s silence that he understood everything Nord hadn’t said.
Finally, he asked, “You gonna tell her?”
“Eventually.”
Finley slapped Nord on the arm. “I don’t envy you, mate. That’s some dark shit.”
Tension settled heavily in his shoulders. Even if they got over the hurdle of her past, there was still the reality of who—and what—he was. Nord let out a long, resigned breath. “She has enough going on without having to deal with me.”
“Doubt she sees it that way. She’s crazy about you.”
“She barely knows me. It’s only been a couple days.”
Finley snorted. “We both know that’s not how it works. I see how you look at each other when the other isn’t watching. This isn’t some lust-induced attraction—on either of your parts.”
Nord knew he was right, but admitting it didn’t help anyone. Instead, he shrugged.
“Suit yourself. Play dumb. It’s your life you’re fucking up. But think about this. What are you going to do when someone else makes a play? Because they will, mate. She’s a beautiful woman. You going to be able to control all that berserker rage then? When someone tries to take what’s yours?”
Nord’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the metal of his rings biting into his flesh while his pulse throbbed like a battle cry in his ears. He couldn’t even form words through the immediate anger that scenario provoked.
“Stop,” he warned Finley through their link.
“That’s what I thought,” he said softly.
“Drop it. Now.”
“Consider it dropped.”
Nord forced himself to breathe.
Finley wisely changed the subject. “In other news, I know where we can find Crombie.”
His voice was more of a growl than a question when he asked, “Where?”
“He holds auctions once a month. The next one is,” Finley paused as if doing some swift calculations, “twelve days from now.”
“Why wait?”
“Because we know exactly when and where he’ll be. It’ll be easier to approach him there than try to draw him out beforehand. Besides, this gives us time to make arrangements.”
Nord blew out another breath, knowing it was a solid plan, but still not liking it. “Fine.”
“Oh, one more thing.”
“What’s that?” he bit out.
“You’ll need to wear your tux.” Finley flashed his teeth. “It’s black tie.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
“Did you buy Lina any dresses while you were shopping?” Finley asked as he started straightening papers and putting them back in their files.
“She’s not coming with us.”
Finley paused. “She’s not?”
“Too dangerous,” Nord said.
“No more so than anything else we do.”
Nord grunted, not willing to entertain Finley’s logic. “It’ll be a room full of supernaturals, and she doesn’t seem to have access to her power. It’s not safe for her.”
“Hmm,” Finley replied.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Nord narrowed his eyes. “What?” he demanded.
“We’ll just see what Lina has to say about that.”
“She’ll listen to reason.”
“Right.”
“She will.”
“Keep telling yourself that, mate.”
Nord closed his eyes and swallowed a groan, praying that for once, Finley was wrong. “Just hurry up,” he snapped. “We should go check on her.”
“Whatever you say, buddy.”
Nord slapped Finley on the back of his head with a folder. In return, his partner’s laughter filled the room, making it almost impossible for Nord to hide his own smile.
Almost.
Nord’s body was rigid when they walked into the main reading room. “Didn’t I tell her not to talk to anybody?”
“What was that you said about her willingly staying home?” Finley asked.
“Fuck you.”
Finley chuckled.
“Who is that she’s talking to?” Nord asked in a soft voice that only a foolish person would mistake as calm.
Finley squinted. “I can’t quite make out his face from here.”
Nord stalked down the aisle toward his charge. “Lina,” he said tersely.
She jumped and spun around; her flushed cheeks an admission of guilt that only irritated him further. “Hey, Nord.”
“What did I tell you?”
Her eyebrows immediately snapped together, and her expression went from guilty to annoyed. “I make my own decisions, Nord. I’m not a child.”
“Then why are you acting like one?”
As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them, but Finley had already provoked him, and he couldn’t quite seem to maintain his hold on his usual calm. Especially not when it came to her safety. How could he protect her when she willingly put herself in harm’s way? Sure, maybe this time it was fine, but what about next time? If she continued to disregard his warnings, eventually she was going to get herself in trouble.
“Oh yeah, this is going well,” Finley muttered.
“Excuse me?” Lina hissed, her eyes darkening like the sky before a storm.
The man seated in front of Lina cleared his throat, dragging Nord’s attention away from her. At first look, there wasn’t anything remarkable about the man, save for his age. Nord, however, knew better than to trust outward appearances. They were too easy to fake and spoke nothing at all of what lay hidden beneath the surface.
Finley let out a surprised gasp. “Mr. Cuska, I didn’t realize you were visiting us today.”
“O’Connor,” the older man said, looking quietly amused as he took in the scene playing out in front of him.
“You know this guy?” Nord asked Finley.
“He’s the ex-head of the Mobius Council.”
“That wannabe band of mobsters?”
“Those guys are no joke, Nord. They aren’t as powerless as you remember.”
Nord raised a brow and studied the old man with more interest now that Finley’s words confirmed his initial assessment. “So, what’s he doing here? I thought Council members were banned.”
“Existing ones, sure, but Alistair is under our protection. He defected shortly after his brother’s assassination. In exchange for information, we provided him with a new identity.”
Nord peered more closely, tapping into his power to find the traces of Guardian magic that had modified the man’s appearance. “Interesting.”
As the silent conversation played out between them, Lina twisted in her seat to look at her companion. “How do you know Fin?” she asked.
Alistair’s lips tipped up in a secret smile. “Old acquaintances.”
“Really?” she asked, clearly intrigued.
“Oh yes, he used to do his best to put my brother and I behind bars.”
“What?” she asked, her voice shaking with incredulous laughter.
“It’s quite true, I assure you. I was not always the frail old man that sits before you, my dear.”
“Lina, it’s time to go,” Nord said stiffly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“But—”
“Now, Lina.”
“I don’t think I’m ready quite yet.” She shot daggers at him with her eyes as she spoke, not at all happy that he was issuing more orders.
She couldn’t possibly know that her defiance was like waving a flag in front of a bull or pouring gasoline onto an already raging fire. Nord clamped down hard on the tidal wave of protective anger that threatened to spill out. He was on edge, the events of the day leaving him unmoored. He needed to get her home and then take another round or ten with the bag.
“I wasn’t asking,” he said stiffly.
Lina’s frown deepened.
Seeing that she was about to say something that would only make matters worse, Nord ground out, “Please.”
Her expression wavered as she studied him. Lina’s trust was one thing he was coming to appreciate most about her. She may not always understand what was going on, but she was willing to defer to him and follow his lead. At least, she was when he asked rather than demanded. He’d need to try to remember that.
“All right,” she agreed softly.
His body relaxed infinitesimally.
“I’ll let the archivist know we’re leaving,” Finley said quietly.
“Goodbye, Alistair,” Lina said as she rose, offering him a wide smile. “Thanks for allowing me to interrupt your studies.”
“It was my pleasure, Lina. Perhaps we’ll run into each other again soon.”
“I’d like that,” she said, giving him a little wave.
Nord glared at the older man over her head. There was absolutely no way he would be coming within thirty feet of his charge again. He didn’t know the man, but he didn’t trust him. Not even if he was a renounced member of Mobius. That pathetic band of criminals could absolutely not be trusted. Renounced or otherwise.
The smile on the old man’s face told him he knew what Nord was thinking.
Good.
Nord let some of the violence simmering in his blood rise to the surface as he returned the man’s smile.
Alistair didn’t so much as blink, but he did give Nord a little nod.
Knowing his intended message had been received, Nord allowed himself to turn and follow Lina out of the room.
Now Alistair knew what he’d be dealing with the next time he came sniffing around Lina. Nord almost welcomed the idea as the need for blood sang in his veins. It was only a crooning lullaby for now, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Oh yes. An opponent would be quite welcome.
Especially one he could rip apart with his bare hands.
Chapter Eleven
Lina
They’d traveled home in silence, Finley opening a portal that delivered them to the penthouse’s doorstep.
“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to portal into the actual house?” Lina asked.
“Wards,” Finley explained. “No one can portal directly in or out.”
“Wards?” she repeated, the word unfamiliar.
“The supernatural equivalent of an alarm system, basically. Most supernatural homes and businesses use some combination of layered protection spells or activated runes to keep intruders out and their possessions safe. The more important the building, the stronger the ward.”
