The Shadow of Mist (7 page)

As we cruised down Twelfth, trying not to let the tailing Saab spook us, I patted my belly, attempting to soothe my overworked nerves. My thoughts drifted back to Mitch and how badly he'd been injured. Somebody had roughed him up something awful. Terrance had to have a couple of goons with him to cause that much damage because Mitch could hold his own in a fight. It was bad enough to have to worry about
Terrance
, but to be forced to worry about any buddies he might be hanging with . . . The thought scared the shit out of me.

Camille turned onto East Pike and I pointed up ahead. “See, there on the right. The Supe-Urban Café. There's parking to the side, right after you pass the restaurant, so pull in there and let's get ready to run in.”

I unbuckled my seat belt and grabbed both our purses as Camille swung into the side parking lot. The minute she pulled to a stop and turned off the ignition, we hit the doors. As we raced for the restaurant, she locked the car with her electronic key. We managed to slip inside just as the silver Saab slowly paced by. I lingered long enough to see it pull into the parking lot.

“They're still on our tail. Head to the back. Marion spends a lot of time in the kitchen.” I handed Camille her purse and led her through the maze of tables. Business was brisk; most of the tables were filled with people, eating, drinking coffee, talking, reading. It was really more of a hangout than a restaurant and Marion told me she was making enough to put her oldest through college.

As we came to the swinging doors that led to the restrooms and the office, I pushed through and found myself face-to face with Marion herself. She was lean, gaunt but not anorexic, and she had that hungry look in her eyes that all coyote Weres seemed to have. They never looked like they'd had enough to eat, and very seldom seemed fully happy, though most that I knew were quite content and led fulfilling lives. It was just something in their nature that led them to look like street children staring through a candy store window.

“Siobhan, I haven't seen you in—” She stopped, staring at me, her nose twitching. “You're afraid. What's made you so afraid in my restaurant?”

Camille interjected herself between the door and my back. “We're being followed by someone who's looking to harm Siobhan. Do you have a place we can hide?” Most Supe establishments had panic rooms of one sort or another.

Marion glanced from Camille to me, then back to Camille again. She quickly turned and motioned for us to follow her. We headed into her office, where she closed the door behind her, then swiftly pulled a bookshelf away from the wall. It was hinged, though we couldn't see the hinges from the way it was attached, and a dimly lit passage showed from behind it.

“This leads to a tunnel that comes out a few blocks away in Westmeyer Park. You can either wait here for me, or you can head down there and I'll have one of my men meet you there. You can pick up your car later—who was driving?” Marion handed me a flashlight from her desk.

Camille raised her hand. “That would be me. I've got a steel gray Lexus out there.” She turned to me. “Siobhan, we can call Chase. He'll bring his men and come down here and if they possibly can, they'll nab him. Because you and I both know that has to be Terrance.”

I bit my lip, thinking. We could wait here, let Chase catch him. And then Chase would turn him over to the Supe Community council and he'd have a damned good chance of getting away with this crap. Of course, if he'd been the one to attack Mitch—and I was positive it was him—then maybe we could do something, but with Mitch in a coma, there was no way to prove his attacker had been Terrance.

On the other hand, if I really wanted him gone, it meant taking care of him without anybody else finding out. I shook my head.

“No. We play it the way we were thinking about. Marion, thanks for the offer, but we'll call our friends on the way and have them meet us. It's enough that you're giving us the chance to escape. I'll explain everything later.” I ducked into the tunnel and blew a kiss at the Were. “Anything I can do for you, let me know.”

She laughed. “Just name your firstborn after me,” she said, shutting the door behind us.

As the sounds of the bar were muffled by the thick bookshelf, I let out a long sigh and flicked the switch on the flashlight. The light beat a steady beam down the corridor and I breathed a little easier.

“We've got a bit of a walk in front of us,” I said, glancing down at my pumps ruefully.

Camille held out her foot. She was wearing stilettos. “Don't even talk to me about painful footwear,” she said, smiling. “Come on, let's get moving. I wonder if I can get cell reception down here. If not, we'll have to wait till we come out into the open to call for a ride.”

As we started through the musty tunnel, fresh air piped in from somewhere above. How many people had used this getaway? And for what? Whom had they been fleeing from? But try as I might, I couldn't get my mind off Terrance. He'd decided to make his move before I had time to plan. His call had just been a terror tactic, and it had worked. And I knew him well enough to know that he'd stop at nothing to get me back.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, but in reality we were walking for only about fifteen minutes. Camille's cell phone didn't work in the underground passage, and neither did mine, so we walked in silence, pushing forward with Camille behind me, keeping an eye over her shoulder. After five minutes, I let out a long breath. After ten, I began to relax. Maybe we'd gotten away after all. I sure hoped Terrance didn't tear up Camille's car, though, in his anger that he hadn't been able to catch us.

Fifteen minutes and we were at the end of the passage, facing a series of steps that led us up to a door with a one-way lock on it. Locked from the inside, we could get out, but once we did and the door swung shut, we wouldn't be able to duck back in.

“Don't let the door close,” I whispered. “Not until we know it's safe.” I cautiously pushed it open a crack and peeked out. I was looking into what appeared to be a women's restroom. There was no one in sight. I pushed the door open and stepped out. Camille followed me.

“Wait here,” she said, leaving me to hold the door as she raced over to the outer door leading . . . well, wherever it led.

I glanced around the room. Four stalls, dull green, two sinks with faucets. And these were old-fashioned faucets—no
run your hands under the sink and make the water come out
technology here. A paper towel dispenser and a spartan-looking mirror hung on the wall. Track lighting illuminated the room with fluorescent lights. Windows lined the upper wall, letting in some natural light. Yeah, this was a utilitarian bathroom, all right.

Camille dashed back. “It's okay. We're in the women's restroom for Westmeyer Park. You get back in the tunnel and keep the door open a crack. I'm going to step outside and call Delilah to come pick us up.”

I nodded, waiting as she disappeared out the front. A couple minutes later, she was back. “She's on her way. She left Tim at your apartment. He's still fooling around with your computer.”

I let out a long sigh. “That's fine.” I was tired; my back was killing me from walking in pumps—ever since I'd become pregnant I'd longed for flats, and all I wanted was to sit down somewhere and cry.

Camille noticed and wrapped her arm around me. “Oh, Siobhan, everything will be all right. You wait and see.” She cocked her head. “I think I hear a car. Come on, it must be Delilah. The parking lot is just a few feet away from here.”

I reluctantly let the tunnel door swing shut. The dark passage might be creepy but it had provided us a haven, and right now I needed shelter from the storms raging in my life.

As Camille opened the outer door, she let out a startled cry. “Run! Siobhan, run!”

Someone slammed the door open, sending Camille flying against the wall. She screamed as she hit the concrete and slumped to the ground, where she shook her head, dazed.

I whirled back to the tunnel but too late—the door was closed and there was no getting in. With no other exits in the restroom, I ran toward a stall, thinking to lock myself in and maybe buy a few seconds.

The swift scent of ozone filled the air as Camille shouted and a blast ricocheted against the walls. Freezing, I paused; then a man swore and, again, Camille shrieked.

“Siobhan, you might as well give it up. You're coming with me.”

That
voice, I knew.

“Terrance?” I turned, knowing that no matter what I did, it would be too little, too late.

Three men stood there: Terrance, along with two other men I recognized instantly by their scent as being full blooded Finfolk.

Terrance motioned to them. “Keith, grab the Faerie bitch. Lon, keep watch.”

The one named Keith grabbed Camille up in a bear hug, clapping a hand over her mouth as she struggled. The other took up guard on the door.

I stared at Terrance as he slowly walked toward me. It had been a long time since I'd looked into those cold, blue eyes.

“Just leave us alone. I'm not going with you. You can't force me to go with you.” I backed up toward the wall, petrified. The look on his face was maleficent, his lips curled into a snarl.

“Oh, you're coming with me, and as soon as we get rid of the whelp bastard you've got locked up in that oven, I'll get you with my own child and that will seal the deal.” His eyes glimmered and he chuckled softly. “I've followed you for too long, over too many miles, to even think of letting you go now.”

“No, don't hurt my baby. Please don't hurt my baby.” I crossed my hands over my stomach. But then, fear turned to anger. This was
my child
,
Mitch's child
, and if Terrance tried to hurt it, I'd rip him to shreds. “Get out of here or I swear, Terrance, I'll kill you.”

He laughed again. “Right, you go on thinking that. No, my dear, you're coming with me and so is your friend. I know plenty of people who'd pay a pretty penny to give her a ride.”

“You're part Finfolk, aren't you? You've got Meré blood in you!”

As he walked me back against the wall, one step at a time, he reached out and caught my chin in his hands. He stroked my cheek with one finger, hooking it lightly over my lower lip. “You finally see me clearly, my beautiful selkie princess. Now, it's time to come home with me.” The way he said the word
princess
stopped me short. It wasn't an endearment. No, there was something else behind his words.

“Well, I'll be damned. Your mother never told you, did she?” Terrance laughed roughly. “Ah well, I don't blame her. Your father's folk were a rough lot—coarse and stinking up the sea. Your mother probably thought she was doing you a favor, but the truth will out, won't it?”

“What truth?” I'd been lying so long that I half believed my own stories, but now he was claiming that my mother had lied to me?

“Your blood gives you a direct lineage to nobility on her side of the family. You're in line for the throne within the Isle of Man Selkie Pod. Since you ran away from your father's people and turned your back on them, you have the option to return home and claim your heritage and right of kinship.”

He couldn't be right. My mother, a princess? And now me, in line for the throne?

“Wait—my mother! Isn't she the one who should rise to power if there's a change in rulership? If you harm her—”

He twisted my arm just enough to hurt. “Pipe down. Your mother's fine. But she knowingly turned her back on her own Pod and pledged herself to your father's people. She can't return home now.”

“I'm pledged to the Puget Sound Harbor Seal Pod—”

“Ah, but you have the choice to return to your mother's people because she never told you about them. Which you will do. Then, when I marry you, I'll have one of the most powerful groups of selkies under my control, via
your own sweet self
. You, my dear, are my ticket to ruling the waves. After that, it's a short step to the Finfolk taking over your people, just like we did the Cobh roane. My father married into the Pod. He was half Finfolk, and now we control them. We'll reign terror over the seas. At last, do you understand why I chased you for a hundred years? There's more at stake than just a pretty pussy. My people wait for me back home. And your people wait in fear that I'll find you. They've finally figured out just who my family is.”

“You're crazy,” I said. “I'm no princess—”

“But you are, in your own right. Even if you never married me, you've got the blood of queens flowing through your body. Your father had no idea of just
who
he captured when he went seeking a mate.”