Dark Star, page 6
They were standing in front of another fine, eighteenth century building where a set of steps led down to a door.
“It’s set under the brick arches of the medieval city.” He grinned at her. “And it’s a gay bar, but it doesn’t bother me. They’re all-inclusive.”
“As long as they have food, I don’t care either,” Shadow said, following him down the stairs.
Once they’d paid their way inside, they heard the loud thud of music, and Shadow found they were in a warren of corridors with rooms set on either side, as well as a large dance floor still heaving with people. They managed to find a table in the bar under the stone arches that formed the roof, and Shadow eyed the eclectic groups of people around her while Gabe brought cocktails.
“Herne’s horns,” she said when he returned with margaritas. “I love this place!”
“Two clubs in one night,” he said, laughing. “I thought my clubbing days were behind me.”
“You went clubbing in ancient Mesopotamia?”
“Not quite like this. But obviously there were late night bars, music, revelry, drinking, dancing—”
“And food?” she broke in hopefully.
“Chips are on the way—lots of them.”
She chinked his glass. “Thank you. If Blaze is still in Oxford and not in bed, then there’s a good chance he’s here. As soon as we’ve eaten, I’ll scout the place, and see if I can feel him.”
“And we have a sketchy description of him,” Gabe reminded her.
After they had eaten their food and started on the next cocktail—she’d decided they were too good for just one—she detected shifter magic. “He’s here,” she said softly, scanning the room as casually as she could. Not that it was really an issue. Everyone was so busy letting loose, they weren’t really watching their table.
In seconds she saw him leaning across the bar as he ordered a drink, exactly as Domino had described him. He was tall and slim, his shoulder-length brown hair curling slightly on his shoulders. It was warm in the club, and he only wore a t-shirt with his jeans, revealing a Celtic-style tattoo on his forearm, but a messenger bag was slung over his shoulder, and it looked heavy.
“Far end of the bar, with a bulky bag.”
“I see him,” Gabe said, trying to hide his excitement. “I think he’s brought it in with him.”
“And he’s buying two drinks, too,” Shadow noted. “Is he handing it off in here? There must be better places!” she said, incredulous. She was always a fan of secluded places for dodgy exchanges herself, but there was no accounting for taste.
“Maybe he’s killing time until the meet up.”
“I’ll follow him back to his seat,” Shadow suggested, “on the pre-text of heading to the ladies.”
As soon as Blaze left the room, she followed him at a distance, watching him weave through the crowd before finally ducking into a dark side room, where he sat next to a young woman with long, dark hair. Unfortunately, her back was to the door and Shadow couldn’t see her face, but he seemed to settle in, draping his arm around her shoulder, and she returned to Gabe.
“He’s with a woman, but I don’t think she’s the one. They’re too intimate.”
“We need to watch them. We’re too far away here.” Gabe picked up his drink and stood, grabbing her hand. “Time to play.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, glancing at his hand and then staring at him pointedly.
“We’re going to find a nice seat and get cosy.”
“We’re going to do what?”
“This is no time to argue. Just remember, I’m irresistible, and you can’t keep your eyes off me. Or your hands.”
He looked insufferably amused with himself and she narrowed her eyes at him, his heat already radiating up her arm.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
“If you don’t move right now, I’m going to kiss you.”
“I’ll stab you first.”
He leaned in closer, his head bending and his lips closing in on hers. Barely thinking about what she was doing, she turned and dragged him with her, almost feeling his amusement. Bastard.
She pulled him along the corridor. The club was beginning to empty, but those who were still there were glassy-eyed and raucous, and several couples were clasped in close embraces. Feeling hot at the thought of getting close to Gabe, she pulled him into the low-lit room and onto the squashy leather sofa just inside the door. It gave them a good view of Blaze, who was busy flirting with the unknown woman.
Gabe pinned her in the corner of the sofa, his arm already across the back of the seat and curling protectively around her shoulders, pulling her to him. His eyes drifted over her lips.
“Well, this is nice.”
The heat he radiated was almost overwhelming, and it took all of her willpower not to sink into his arms. Unwillingly she stared at his lips, noting how full they were, and thought how very good they’d probably taste. Keeping a smile pasted to her face, she said, “I’m glad you think this is funny, when the reality is that I’m in the middle of my very own hash-tag Me Too moment.”
His smile spread as he put his lips next to her ear, his warm breath making her giddy. “Really? Because I can hear your heart pounding right now, and I don’t think it’s with fear.”
He planted feather-light kisses along her neck as her eyes closed, her breathing becoming shallow. Herne’s horns. That felt way better than she’d imagined, and she’d imagined it plenty.
She forced her eyes open. “You really should stop that.”
“Then say it like you mean it,” he murmured through his kisses that were now melting her insides. His hand slipped into her hair as he stroked the base of her neck.
“I’m trying to focus on Blaze,” she hissed, watching him kiss the mystery woman across the room.
“Trying? So I’m putting you off, then? That’s good to know.”
The one good thing she had to admit was that no one was taking the slightest bit of notice of them—least of all, Blaze. The woman was almost straddling him now, and Shadow closed her own eyes again, swimming in the heady scent of Gabe. He smelt of a peppery spice, warm and inviting.
Focus, she chastised herself. When she next opened her eyes, the woman was pulling away from Blaze, and he looked like Shadow felt—drugged. She couldn’t see his face, but he seemed to loll against the back of the sofa. Something was wrong. She could feel it. And now that she was closer to them, the woman felt all wrong, too.
“What’s going on?” Gabe mumbled, lifting his head to look at her. His back was to Blaze, but he didn’t look around. “You’ve become tense.”
The woman eased back slowly, her hand reaching towards the messenger bag that was wedged behind Blaze. “Shit. I think she’s the one. And she’s done something to Blaze.”
As Shadow spoke, the woman turned, giving Shadow the briefest glimpse of black eyes—flat and far from human—and as she swung around even more, Shadow grabbed Gabe’s head, her hands in his thick hair, and pulled him in for a long kiss. He leaned against her, pinning her to the back of the sofa, his lips exploring her own. For a second, she almost forgot what was happening, but then she felt the woman walk past. Waiting for a beat, she then pushed Gabe away.
Blaze was insensible on the sofa. In fact, from here he looked dead. Shadow again moved Gabe off her and pulled him out of the room. “Fuck it. She’s gone!”
“She can’t have gone far,” he said, following her down the corridor.
They spotted the woman heading through the exit and hurried after her, emerging onto the street where a few people loitered by the entrance. They hurried to the deserted entrance of the lane, the woman already ahead on the main road. Gabe began pulling his t-shirt off, and he thrust it at her, his wings expanding.
“I’ll follow from above—and be careful.”
Shadow glanced back anxiously at the club entrance, but they were out of view for now. “But what’s the plan? Are we aiming to just take it from her—presuming the astrolabe is in the bag—or find out where she’s taking it?”
“Part of me wants to know who’s behind this, but that’s not really our job,” he said, clearly anxious to get moving. “Let’s wait until she’s somewhere quiet, and just take it.”
She grabbed his arm. “I don’t know what she is, but she’s not human.”
He nodded and then soared upwards, leaving Shadow to follow on foot.
Seven
Harlan woke in the middle of the night after a poor sleep that had been disturbed by dreams of shifters and the information they had found out from Typhoo.
He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about what Black Cronos was. He had brooded all the way to his flat, sitting in the back of Gabe’s SUV in the dark, watching the lights of London flow past like a river. Gabe and the others had asked him a few questions, but he’d batted them off, telling them he needed to think. He had heard of Black Cronos years and years ago, but the mention was more of a rumour than anything substantial, something mysterious and ephemeral. However, the name was also so unusual it had stuck with him. He wondered if Olivia knew anything, or Mason. Or even JD might, but for obvious reasons he didn’t want to involve either of the latter.
Harlan’s mind was too busy to go back to sleep, so he rolled out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make coffee, and then took it to his small office and library. A few months before, he had found a collection of documents and notes in the guild’s library, and had been so intrigued with them that he made copies for his own reference. It was these he wanted to read now. The notes had been amassed by the collectors who had gone before him. There was intelligence on rival organisations, such as The Order of Lilith and others like it. It included members both past and present, structure, headquarters, and whatever was known about them. He was sure he’d read the name in these. They now stored the files on the computer too, but he liked to handle the old, paper ones. It was as if they stored impressions in the pages that a computer failed to impart.
After the job at Angel’s Rest, Harlan had added his own notes to the file for The Order of Lilith, updating their address and the members who had died. He hadn’t seen Nicoli since. After the theft of the astrolabe he’d wondered if Nicoli was behind this problem, but it hadn’t seemed the right fit for him somehow, and he was glad his gut feeling had been proven right. He paused, remembering Jensen’s broken body in the Chamber of Air, and the fact that Mia’s body had been lost forever, and shuddered. The Temple of the Trinity had not been what he expected, and he hoped this particular investigation wasn’t going to play out the same way.
He checked his watch as he settled in his chair. Gabe and Shadow would be in Oxford now, and he wondered if they were still up and whether they’d had any success. It was better that they followed their lead quickly, which meant he needed to find answers quickly, too. He opened the file, and settled in to read.
Gabe hovered high over the lane, watching the mysterious woman move swiftly through the centre of town.
The streets were empty now, but it didn’t make her easier to keep track of. She was like Shadow; she blended into the darkness, and even under streetlights seemed to look insubstantial. He couldn’t even see Shadow now, but he presumed she was maintaining a safe distance in her own pursuit.
Shadow said she wasn’t human, so what did that make her? Another shifter, or something else? And how had she killed Blaze? One swift look was all it took to see that he was dead. Soon enough, someone would find him as the club closed, and then all Hell would break loose.
They should have stopped it. But then again, how? They couldn’t make a scene in the club; that would have got them into all sorts of trouble. And why couldn’t he tell there was something different about her? Probably because he was enjoying himself too much with Shadow. Even now, he could feel Shadow’s soft skin. He was an utter fool.
Instead of getting lost in those thoughts, he concentrated on the scene below. The colleges of Oxford jostled around shops and lanes, their old buildings imparting a weight of ages. There were so many churches, squares, and cloistered grounds it was bewildering. The woman turned into the leafy garden of a church, and he realised this was their chance. He soared downwards, dropping on her from above, and pinned her to the ground, facedown, the bag squashed beneath them.
The woman was slender but strong, and she twisted beneath him as she tried to throw him off, but he lay across her and attempted to pull the bag out from under her. She bucked, unbalancing him, and just as he wondered where Shadow was, she arrived.
“Grab the bag,” he said, still restraining the struggling woman.
But as Shadow leaned in, the woman turned and looked Gabe full in the face. He gasped, almost releasing her in shock. The woman’s eyes were utterly black, and as she stared into his, he felt as if she was staring into his soul, feeling a tug deep within him.
Shocked and disorientated, he lost his grip and she wriggled free, but Shadow didn’t hesitate. She punched her, and as the woman fell back, Shadow grabbed the bag, wrenching it from her grasp. She threw it over her shoulder, and pulling her two knives out, circled the woman.
The thief dropped and rolled, kicking at Shadow. She dodged her easily, and Gabe lunged at the woman. But she was like a wraith, and again she stared at him, exerting her strange power, and he felt his breath catch in his chest.
The sound of sirens broke up their fight, and police cars streamed past, their blue and red lights playing across the gravestones. All of them dropped to the ground in an effort to stay hidden, and by the time Shadow and Gabe stood again, the thief had vanished.
Shadow whirled around. “Where has she gone?”
Gabe scanned the area, but there was no sign of her. “I have no idea, and I daren’t fly again. Did she hurt you?”
“No, and I still have the bag.” She peered inside it and grinned. “And the astrolabe.”
“Good.” He retrieved his t-shirt and put it on again. “We need to get off the streets. They must have found Blaze, and strolling around at this hour won’t look good.”
“But the woman?”
“Let her go. We have what we came for.”
Shadow looked disappointed. “So it’s over already?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think we should drop this just yet. I want to know more about this Dark Star, and why someone is prepared to kill for it. Don’t you?”
She lifted her chin, her eyes firing with excitement. “Absolutely.”
Harlan rubbed his hand across his face and muttered to himself. “Damn it!”
He was still sitting in his library, and the previous hour had flown by. He’d found the references to Black Cronos, and admittedly although they didn’t tell him much, they said enough to know the group needed to worry.
The first record that mentioned Black Cronos was made in 1894 by Rosamund Fairchild, a collector for The Orphic Guild’s Rome branch. She was outmanoeuvred for an artefact called the Handmaid’s Chalice, a suitably intriguing object that promised that whoever drank from it could bewitch anyone they chose. It was also intriguing that a woman was a prominent collector at that time. Harlan imagined she must have had independent wealth and enough status to allow her to travel where she chose. Maybe she was married to an enlightened man, or perhaps she was a rich widow. Whatever her background, it seemed she spoke fluent Italian and had helped set up the branch.
Rosamund had recorded the encounter in a flowing script, noting that she had been followed for weeks by a shadowy figure who she struggled to lose. She had finally found the chalice in an old palace in Florence, after searching for it for months for an unnamed client, and within days it had been stolen from a secure location and her pursuer vanished. During that time the Rome branch’s director had received a note from Black Cronos, telling them to stop their search or there would be consequences. They hadn’t, and other than being trailed, Rosamund had been unharmed. Harlan rolled his eyes at the suitably Machiavellian threats. Rosamund went on to say that they had never found out anything else about them.
Then during the chaos of the First World War there had been another mention of Black Cronos in London, the entry made by another collector named Peter Shelley. The guild had been threatened, again by letter, to stop searching for a collection of papers. Peter had ignored it and was then attacked one night and badly beaten, but he couldn’t identify his attacker, and he never found the papers. And then the same thing happened again just before the Second World War, a threat this time to stop searching for an old diary.
Three letters, all sent to the director. That was weird. Had The Orphic Guild sufficiently threatened them to warrant such a warning? And why bother to warn at all?
Harlan flicked through the few remaining documents, pleased to see the letters themselves had been kept. Initially, he was disappointed. There were no clues as to who had written them, obviously, revealing no name other than Black Cronos, and they certainly gave no indication of where the organisation was based. Or maybe it was an individual? Possibly even a family affair? But then laying them out side by side, Harlan had a shock. The handwriting was identical. He blinked as he spread them out. Three letters, sent between 1894 and 1937. Not too long of a period, so potentially the same person would have been alive then and working for the organisation the entire time.
Damn it. He needed to see the original documents, and that meant going to the guild, but that would have to wait until later. He was exhausted and needed more sleep. Before retiring again, his phone rang, startling him in the silence of his flat. “Gabe. Is everything okay?”
“We have the astrolabe, but it wasn’t secured without difficulties,” he said, updating Harlan on their encounter. “The thief was not entirely human, but I don’t know what exactly she was.”
“She killed Blaze?” Harlan asked, shocked. “With a kiss?”
“Looked that way.” Gabe sounded rattled, and that was unusual. “I’ll explain more tomorrow. But, I wanted you to know that we have it. We’ll get some sleep and return to London later today. I also want you to know that we are going to continue to look into this, even though the job is over.”
