Secret Worlds (522 page)

There wasn’t a single mark on him.

What the fuck?
My lips silently formed the words as my brain raced to understand what I was seeing.

While much of that night was still a blur, there was no way I was wrong about acquainting his face with my fists. He should have at least come away from the ordeal with a broken nose. Scenting the air I thought I could detect the faintest tang of blood, but as I tried to focus on it the scent became muddled and faded, like a memory just out of reach. My senses were still dulled and weak, barely more effective than those of a mundane.

“Yes, come in Harry.”

I watched Johnson step into the room, expecting to see a hitch in his gait from where I had driven the screwdriver into his thigh, but his steps were smooth and fluid. Sluggish thoughts churned, trying to make sense of what was happening. He should have been limping, his face should have been bruised and swollen. Instead he looked the same as ever all the way down to the arrogance that curled his upper lip into the beginning of a smirk.

What the hell is going on?

“Nice of you to join us, Cray,” Johnson said, his beady eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction and a hint of something else I couldn’t pinpoint.

Looking to Holbrook for some kind of explanation, I found him staring back at me, his brows pinched in confusion.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed wasting the bureau’s time,” Johnson said. “We’ve had men traipsing all over the city looking for your arrogant ass.”

“You son of a bitch!” I growled, leaping up from my chair despite the stab of pain that seared through my middle.

My fingers barely grazed the front of his shirt before Holbrook was there, wrapping muscled arms around me. I hadn’t even seen him move. One moment he was across the room, and the next he was curling me against the hardness of his chest, enveloping me in the scent of his skin.

“Let go of me!” I shouted, trying to reach around him to get my hands on Johnson. I struggled in his arms, pushing ineffectually at his shoulders, too weak to move him.

“Get a handle on your attack dog, Holbrook,” Johnson said.

“I should have fucking killed you!”

“Calm down, Riley,” Holbrook pleaded, his eyes alight with worry.

“No! He has to pay for what he did,” I said, growing still in the circle of his arms. My lower lip began to tremble, my eyes hot with unshed tears. “He has to pay,” I whimpered, tucking my face into the crook of his neck to hide the tears that tracked down my cheeks.

“You crazy bitch,” Johnson said in feigned amazement.

“That’s enough. Everybody take a breath.” The iciness in Santos’s voice cut through the tension in the room, making me shrink further into Holbrook’s embrace.

“You saw her Santos, that psycho tried to attack me. I want her arrested.”

“Hang on a minute. That’s not necessary. Let’s all just—” Holbrook began to interject.

“The hell it’s not! She’s nuts.”

“She’s not—”

“Silence!” Santos thundered, his voice filling the room with the force of a wave crashing into a cliff side. For a moment it seemed to suck all the air out of the room, blanketing it in silence except for the faint ringing in my ears. “Everyone just settle down.”

“I want that crazy bitch arrested, Santos. She’s dangerous,” Johnson fumed, pointing a thick finger in my direction. The motion made the cuff of his shirt ride up to show a brief flash of a thick braided band around his wrist, the skin around it pink as though he’d been twisting it around his wrist over and over.

“Is that really necessary?” Holbrook asked, releasing his grip on me while maintaining his position between me and the rest of the room.

“Defending your little pet, Holbrook? How surprising. After all, you do seem to have a thing for freaks.”

I couldn’t see Holbrook’s face from where I stood behind him, but there was no missing the way his shoulders tensed and the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

“Which one fucks better? The wolf, or the bitch?”

I saw Holbrook’s hand clench at his side, the muscles in his arm bunching beneath his shirt as he started to swing. As much as I’d have liked to see him lay that asshole out, I knew he’d regret it later. He was too much of a white knight to sink to that level.

I, on the other hand, had no such problem.

Ducking under his arm I launched myself at Johnson, my fist connecting with his jaw. High as a kite on painkillers and still feeling the effects of the wolfsbane, I wasn’t swinging with my usual force, but I’m sure he was seeing stars.

Strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me off my feet and compressing my ribs, forcing an agonized cry from my lips. I saw Johnson stagger backwards through the pained tears that rose in my eyes, his face turning purple with rage.

“You fucking cunt!” Johnson hissed, wiping blood off his lip. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Riley, stop,” Holbrook soothed, but I had already gone limp in his arms, my breath lodged in my throat.

One of his hands slipped beneath my shirt, his palm warm against the skin of my stomach. If I’d been able to breathe, my breath would have hitched at the shock of energy that arced through his touch, sinking down into my middle. I thought I caught the scent of cool summer rain and freshly turned earth, but dismissed it as impossible.

Whoa, these must be some really good drugs.

Yet, as Holbrook eased me down into the chair my ribs didn’t hurt quite so much as before, and the pounding in my head had receded to a faint ringing in my ears.

“I wish you hadn’t done that, Ms. Cray,” Santos said with a sigh.

“Best thing I’ve done all day,” I said triumphantly, cocky now that I could draw a full breath without feeling like my ribs were about to puncture a lung.

“You know I’m going to have to detain you now,” Santos said, though he at least had the good grace to look apologetic.

“Seriously?
He’s
the one that tried to kill
me
.”

“An event for which you have no evidence or corroboration. It’s your word against his.”

“Have you looked at my face? Do you want me to show you my broken ribs? Or my stitches? They didn’t just show up on their own you know.”

A crease appeared on Santos’s brow for an instant as though he was trying to puzzle through something, his eyes looking glazed and distant. His gaze locked on me again, his eyes widening as if he was seeing my injuries for the first time, and then the expression of surprise was gone, and the angry frown fell back into place.

Pressing the intercom button on his phone Santos leaned in and said, “Marge, we’re going to need security in here.”

Rounding on Holbrook, I found him looking at me with confusion etched into the lines of his face. He’d seen it too, and was as stumped as I was. Something was definitely affecting Santos, altering what he saw. I had no idea how something like that would even work, but it didn’t appear that I was going to get the chance to figure it out.

The two guys that walked through the door looked like rejects from Goons ‘R Us, their matching Men’s Warehouse XXL suits silently screaming at the seams. I wondered if the FBI had started cloning agents to save on resources.

“Arrest that bitch!” Johnson instructed, wagging his thick sausage finger in my direction.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I snorted, throwing my hands in the air.

I caught another glimpse of the braided band circling his wrist, there was something about it that niggled at the back of my mind. I was sure I’d seen something like it before, but couldn’t put my finger on it. The sight of Goon #1 advancing on me, unhooking a pair of cuffs from his belt, swept all other thoughts from my mind.

“You’re serious about this?” I asked, leaning around the bulky agent to glare at Santos. Avoiding my gaze, he waved a hand at the agents to proceed. “You’re as much of an asshat as Johnson,” I muttered, extending my wrists towards Goon #1.

“You’re gonna have to stand up,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like a rockslide.

I was about to protest when Holbrook sighed, “Just do it, Riley.” Looking up at him in disbelief, I was struck by the weariness that etched deep lines around his eyes. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept for days, or was in serious pain.

Was everyone around me going insane?

“Fine,” I grumbled.

Standing, I turned my back on them, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath when Goon #1 pulled my hands behind me, snapping the cuffs over my wrists. My skin began to itch and tingle beneath the cool metal in reaction to the trace amounts of silver they imbued into the metal to detain people like me. I suppose I should give them credit for having done their homework, though the fact that they were using it against me didn’t leave me feeling very magnanimous.

“You couldn’t at least put the cuffs in front?” I managed through clenched teeth as he turned me around and pushed me back down into the chair.

“Sit.”

“Assholes,” I muttered, squirming in a futile attempt to find a position that didn’t irritate my injuries.

Across the room Johnson regarded me, his mouth curved into a smug grin and his beady eyes full of triumphant glee. Rocking back and forth on his heels he clasped his hands in front of his bulging belly. He absently toyed with the braided band, running his thick fingers over the ridges of the weave again and again, the oils from his skin leaving a dark smear on the fibers. Something in the back of my brain clicked and I finally made the connection.

The bastard was using a glamour charm to conceal his injuries. I couldn’t help wondering how he’d gotten through security without setting off the magical detectors, or how no one would have noticed the inevitable bruises and broken nose I’d likely left him with. Glamour charms were easy enough to come by and easier still to activate, requiring a single drop of blood from the wearer, but they’re damned expensive and I doubted Johnson had that kind of money lying around. I was willing to bet that he was wearing a pain amulet underneath his shirt too.

Looking up, I caught Holbrook’s eyes as they rose to meet mine, wide in surprise. He’d seen the charm too. A flood of anger darkened his face all the way up to the roots of his hair and down into the collar of his shirt.

“Son of a bitch!” he cursed, leaping across the room to tackle his partner.

Johnson had just enough time to look up in bewilderment before Holbrook slammed into him, the younger man’s momentum carrying them back into the metal filing cabinets against the wall. A second later pandemonium broke out in the crowded room, the Goon Twins tripping over one another in confusion as they tried to figure out whether they should be guarding me or separating the two agents taking swings at each other. Behind his desk Santos was demanding that everyone “settle the fuck down,” but no one was paying him any attention.

The scent of burnt ozone and a loud pop filled the air a second before Holbrook let out a startled shout, releasing Johnson’s wrist as if burned. He staggered back from Johnson and tossed something away into the corner of the room.

“Arrest him! Arrest that wolf loving prick!” Johnson shouted, his eyes dancing wildly from the Goon Twins to Santos and back again, but no one moved to obey him.

Stunned silence descended on the room as everyone gaped at Johnson, the right side of his face swollen to twice its normal size and covered in black and purple bruises. Both of his eyes were swollen almost entirely shut, weepy and ringed in dark bruises, the bridge of his nose noticeably crooked.

Try denying it now, you bastard.

“What the hell is going on?” Santos demanded.

“He was using a glamour charm,” Holbrook growled, cradling his hand close to his chest, his fingers swollen and covered in weeping blisters. His eyes appeared glazed and unfocused with pain.

“Agents, please take Mr. Johnson into custody.”

“You’re gonna pay for this, Cray,” Johnson snarled as the Goon Twins advanced on him slowly, their hands outstretched, reaching out to subdue him.

“Give it up, Johnson. You’re busted,” I taunted, feeling vindicated.

“Fucking idiots,” he sneered, his face twisting into an expression of smug surety as he reached a hand into his pocket. I had a bad feeling about this.

Time slowed as I watched him pull a small, shiny capsule from his pocket and throw it at the floor in the middle of the room.

“Get down!” I cried out, but my warning came too late.

I felt the concussive force of the impact the moment the capsule struck the ground and burst open. The strength of the blast knocked me back in my chair, my legs scrabbling on the carpet as the chair teetered on its back legs before toppling over, spilling me onto the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs. I landed heavily on side, my bound arms pinned beneath me while pain engulfed my ribs, making me cry out.

My vision was filled with white speckles and there was a persistent ringing in my ears. The air, thick and redolent with the choking scent of burnt sage and amber, eddied around me and I steeled myself for the blow I knew was coming. A heavy boot struck me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me, leaving me gasping like a fish.

“This isn’t over, cunt,” Johnson whispered from somewhere close by, his sour breath wafting into my face.

Through the haze of pain and my gasping breaths I heard his footsteps retreating before I sank down into darkness.

***

“What the fuck was that?” I heard someone demand, but I couldn’t tell who it was or where the voice had come from.

My hearing was dulled, as if someone had dunked my head underwater. Shaking my head to clear my vision, the room gradually came back into focus, albeit a little fuzzy around the edges. The Goon Twins were still out, slumped together in a pile of slack jawed, ill-fitting suits and cheap haircuts. Holbrook was across the room, close to where Johnson had been, slowly pushing himself up to his knees while cradling the blistered mess of his hand to his chest. His face was contorted in pain, his breaths coming shallow and fast.

I tried to push myself up to my knees but only succeeded in grating my chin against the rough carpet.

“Err…can someone help me up?” I asked, blowing an errant curl out of my eyes.