Secret Worlds (535 page)

“Do what?” he asked even as I was already winding up to sock him in the face. His eyes grew comically wide as my fist swung at him, too fast for him to dodge, and connected with his nose with an audible crunch.

The impact echoed up my arm, zinging the nerves in my elbow, but infuriatingly he looked like he’d stay on his feet. I watched, at the end of my patience, as his eyes filled with tears and blood gushed out of his nose.

“What the fuck, Riley?” he demanded through the hands cupped over his face, sounding as if his nose had been stuffed full of cotton.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” I said, throwing my hands up in irritation.

Before he had a chance to react I grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket and forced him backwards into the ladies restroom, kicking the door shut behind me.

“I think you broke my nose!” he said, his voice full of disbelief. Whether it was because a girl had hit him or that I’d been the one to do it, I didn’t know, and didn’t really care.

“Oh, you’ll be fine. Don’t be such a big baby,” I said, grabbing a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser on the wall and pushing them into his hands. All the while I was trying to school my features into an expression of emotionless detachment, not wanting to let him see my guilt, or my worry at the fount of blood that was his nose.

That doesn’t look good.

Glaring at me around the mass of crumpled, bloody paper towels with angry eyes, he looked like a petulant child, and try as I might my brow creased into a guilty frown.

“I really am sorry,” I said.

He didn’t say anything in response, opting instead to continue to glare daggers at me.

“You know I’m still going to leave, right?” I asked, hoping he’d just nod and let me go.

“I can’t let you do that,” he replied, reaching towards his gun with one bloody hand.

“You’d really shoot me, Tillman? Rather than letting me leave, you’d put a bullet in me?”

I saw the doubt the instant it began to bloom on his face and was certain he’d never pull his weapon on me unless I was a real threat. I rushed him before he changed his mind and did something we’d both regret, aiming my shoulder into his stomach as I drove him back into the handicapped stall. He went down in a tangle of long, flailing limbs, landing on the toilet, narrowly missing falling into the water. While he fought to keep his ass out of the water I grabbed the handcuffs from his belt.

The traces of silver in the metal made my fingers itch, but I ignored it as I snapped one end closed over his wrist. Turning shocked eyes on me, he paused in his awkward flailing and turned his attention to trying to wrest the cuffs out of my grip. Despite my clumsy attempts at trying to knock him out like a movie kung-fu master, I was still considerably stronger than him. Or at least, I would have been if I hadn’t been weak from my injuries. As it was, we were fairly evenly matched, and it was only his prone position that gave me enough of an upper hand to loop the cuff over the handicap rail and snap it shut on his other wrist. Before he had a chance to cuss me out, or worse yet, call for help, I grabbed his tie and shoved it in his mouth.

Stepping back I ran shaking hands over the front of my shirt, smearing a few stray drops of blood in the process. Wiping his blood off my fingers I surveyed my handiwork, doing my best to ignore his furious stare, or how pathetic he looked with his striped tie hanging out of his mouth, and what looked like a gallon of blood smeared over the lower half of his face.

Spotting the gun still in its holster on his hip I leaned forward and gingerly removed it, hoping that the safety was on and I wouldn’t accidently shoot either one of us in the foot. Crossing the room to the trash can set into the wall, I pushed aside several paper towels and offered him an apologetic shrug of my shoulders before dropping his gun inside.

“Aw, man!” he mumbled around the gag.

“Just making sure you don’t try to do anything stupid,” I explained, covering the gun with more paper towels.

He growled something at me that I couldn’t quite make out. Judging by the bitter anger in his eyes, that was probably for the best.

“Well, I don’t think you’re likely to bleed to death, and I’m sure it won’t be long before someone comes along and finds you. I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me, but I understand if you don’t.” Pausing, I reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead and added, “I’m sorry Tillman. You’re a good guy, too good for the likes of me.” Pulling back from my touch he turned his face away, refusing to look at me.

Leaving him in the bathroom shouting muffled obscenities at my back, I glanced both ways down the hallway to make sure I was alone and then ducked into the stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time I propelled myself down the stairs as fast as my battered body would allow. It wouldn’t take Holbrook long to figure out that I was gone or for someone to find Tillman.

I BURST OUT of the stairwell into the lobby and slowed to a leisurely walk, smoothing my hair and wiping the sheen of sweat from my brow. I did everything I could to project the appearance of casual innocence short of whistling a jaunty tune as I scoped out the lobby.

I’d only ever been ushered in through the rear entrance of the building the couple times that I’d been there, bypassing many of the security protocols they had in place for visitors. Milling around in a corner of the lobby, I was faced with the challenge of exiting the building under the watchful eye of two uniformed security guards.

Looking out the glass doors to the sky beyond, I saw the sun gilding the edges of the dark clouds gathering over the mountains, and figured another storm was preparing to bombard the city. By the looks of the inky clouds, it was going to be a nasty one. If I didn’t find a way out fast, the impending storm was going to be the least of my worries—someone was sure to find Tillman soon, and I was going to wind up locked in a broom closet somewhere. I couldn’t stomach the thought of Samson running lose for another day. I could feel his hunger and violence as if his thoughts were overlaid with mine. He was as eager for this to be over as I was, but that wouldn’t stop him from taking out anyone who got in the way.

The minutes ticked by without end, each one like grains of sand slipping through my fingers as I racked my brain to figure out how I was going to get out of here.

Oh, for the love of Christ. Can’t I catch a break?

A moment later, in what was surely my first stroke of luck since the beginning of the week, my prayers were answered. Behind me the elevator chimed as the doors opened to reveal a gaggle of suited men and women sporting visitor badges, deep in conversation. Hanging back I let them pass me and then ducked in behind them, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. I stuck close to the group, my heart pounding and my palms sweating, and made my way to the security checkpoint.

Set-up just like the airport, metal detectors were positioned for entry, though only one of them seemed to be operational, while a small gate with a single guard was labeled as the exit. I stayed at the back of the group while I surveyed the setup. The metal detectors stood in the middle of the space, flanked on either side by a wide desk. The one exit that they were filing us through was off to the right, out of the way of the entry.

In another blessing from above, a woman coming in through the metal detector set off the alarms, her gaudy jewelry no doubt the culprit. Taking advantage of the brief moment of distraction, I crept to the front of my group and watched for several heartbeats to make sure that the guards were occupied figuring out why the metal detector was going haywire, and then made my move.

Walking swiftly through the exit I headed straight to the main doors, and darted out onto the street. Cutting a zigzagging path through alleys and parking lots, I didn’t let myself slow to a walk until I’d gotten a few blocks away.

***

Once I’d put some distance between me and the FBI building, I hailed the first cab I saw. Alyssa’s clinic wasn’t that far away, but it wouldn’t be long before someone figured out I’d left. I could’ve made it to the clinic in half the time if I’d shifted and made the run on four feet, but a giant wolf running through Denver wasn’t exactly what I’d call flying under the radar. Besides, I wasn’t keen on the idea of showing up at Alyssa’s naked. The succubus was hard enough to be around without throwing nudity into the mix.

***

“Could you maybe go a bit faster?” I asked, leaning forward in the backseat of the cab to peer through the grime covered divider.

I wasn’t sure if the cab driver heard me over the sound of a thumping bass and squealing guitar strings until he shook his head and replied, “Posted speed limit’s forty, and I ain’t in the mood to get a ticket.”

Figures that I would find the one traffic-conscious cab driver in the whole damn city,
I thought, slumping back in the seat with a growling sigh.

In the end it took twenty minutes for my cabbie to wind his way through the streets, fighting against the beginnings of the lunch rush. When he pulled up outside the Chinese restaurant, I dug a handful of crumpled bills out of my pocket and tossed them through the small opening in the divider.

“Keep the change,” I said as I leapt out of the car, not sure if I’d tipped him two bucks, or twenty.

I recognized the owner behind the counter when I entered the restaurant, and if his scowl was anything to go by, he recognized me, too. Making a beeline for the back stairs, I took the steps two at a time, drawn forward by the sugary scent of Alyssa as if on a string.

Stepping into Alyssa’s clinic, I came face to face with my first real life leprechaun. They were a common enough sight on TV—Graham Ferguson being the most famous of them all with his late night talk show, and I had to admit I enjoyed his sharp and often lascivious humor. Loki and I had spent many nights curled up on the couch together watching him wheedle incredibly personal details out of his celebrity guests. There was something about leprechauns that encouraged people to spill their most embarrassing and intimate secrets, though whether it was their almost childlike appearance, or some kind of power they possessed, I wasn’t sure.

They generally aren’t as short as Hollywood portrays them, varying in height between four and five feet tall, but they’re always easily recognizable by their fiery hair, pointed ears and craggy features. The patient receiving Alyssa’s care when I arrived was on the taller end of the spectrum, the thick thatch of fire red hair curling atop his head flattened from the baseball cap sitting on the bed next to him.

“Pixie bites are nothing to mess around with, Dermot. You know how easily they can become infected,” Alyssa was saying, shaking her head at her diminutive patient.

“Aye, they’re vicious little buggers,” he replied, his thick brogue lending a sing-song quality to his voice.

No wonder leprechauns and the other Fair Folk are known for leading people astray. A voice like that could convince an Eskimo to buy ice.

Spying me in the doorway his childlike face split into a wide grin. “You didn’t tell me ye got yeself a lovely young assistant. Are you here to give me my sponge bath, lass?” he asked, waggling thick red eyebrows at me, causing me to blush scarlet. I also understood why they had a reputation for being perverted little devils.

Spinning in her chair, Alyssa’s expression turned to one of surprise and then affectionate irritation when she saw me.

“Mind your manners, Dermot! Riley is a friend, which means hands off to you.”

“I wasna planning on doing anything with me hands,” he replied, making a show of licking his lips and flashing me an audacious wink. From anyone else the action would have been lewd and repulsive, but from the charismatic leprechaun, it was amusing and somewhat flattering.

“I’m not sure you could handle the wolf,” I taunted with a grin.

“Dinne worry lass, I’d have ye rolling over and begging for a belly scratch in no time.”

“All right you two, that’s quite enough,” Alyssa declared, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushing to match her own fiery locks. Evidently our playful banter was getting her a little stoned.

Doing my best to look chastised, I schooled my expression into one of contrite obedience, though even Alyssa’s schoolmarm frown didn’t stop the corners of my mouth from twitching in amusement. It was almost sinfully good to feel something other than fear and guilt, even if it was only for a few moments. It didn’t help that Dermot flagrantly ignored her warning and continued to grace with me a variety of flirty looks.

Alyssa frowned as she jabbed a finger in Dermot’s direction and said, “You. Out.”

Hopping down from the bed, the leprechaun puffed up his chest and smoothed his hands over the front of his dark green overalls, an embroidered patch over his heart reading “O’Malley’s Pest Control Service.” Pushing his cap down over his wild curls he winked at me as he swaggered past, whistling to himself.

“And if it festers it will serve you right!” she called after him, though her voice lacked any true bite.

“Well, he’s quite the character,” I said once Dermot had reached the bottom of the stairs, chuckling and shaking my head.

“He’s a scoundrel,” Alyssa replied, even as her expression softened. “He knows better than to try and clear out a pixie nest without protective gear, but no matter how many times I tell him, he just won’t listen. Stubborn as a mule that one,” she added as she began cleaning up her supplies.

“Pixies are poisonous?”

“Very. To mundanes at least. A single bite can kill a child within hours and put an adult in a coma. They’re as far from mundane fairytales as can be. That’s why Dermot and his kin have such a thriving business. For folks like us it’s more the after effects of the bite that we have to worry about. They have a nasty habit of becoming infected, especially when one is a stubborn ass and doesn’t get them treated right away even though they know they should,” she explained, rising from her chair and walking over to a bright red trash bag marked biohazard. “The infection is easy enough to treat. Unfortunately, I haven’t found a cure for the stubbornness yet.”