Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1) (16 page)

“I’m sure I don’t know, Miss Hayes, but I think I can safely guess he wants to talk business.”

“And who are you?”

“Who I am isn’t important, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, you can call me Mr. Smith. I am Mr. Anshar’s assistant.”

“Like his secretary?” I smirked.

He didn’t seem to appreciate the snarky humor. “No. I assist him. My role is primarily to handle the most challenging assignments. Often, I am tasked to deal with those who have disappointed Mr. Anshar in some way. A word of advice, do not disappoint him.” Smith winked at me, but I got the feeling he was much more dangerous than I had initially believed. Anyone who worked for a man like Anshar must be quite good at his job.

We rode the rest of the way back to Manhattan in silence. I stared out the tinted windows, hypnotized by the blur of streetlights and the soft
thump, thump, thump
of the car driving over evenly spaced gaps in the roadway. Soon, I started to drift off, lulled by the motion of the car, the vibration of the engine, and the silence.

I dreamt of a place consumed in fire and ash, and in the midst of the destruction stood an impenetrable gray fortress. Its towers and turrets loomed over the desolate landscape and flew banners with a red dragon on a field of black. I heard a voice, faint at first yet growing insistently louder.
I will teach you. They cannot stand against us.
I didn’t recognize the voice. It was deep and steely with an unfamiliar accent that sounded almost Russian or Slavic, though not quite. Then I was flying over the land. Far below me were glittering rivers, verdant green fields, dense forests, snow-capped mountains, and arid deserts. From this height, all looked peaceful, and I smiled at the beauty of it.

Then the ground was rushing up to meet me. I was plummeting out of control, the wind grabbing at my hair and whipping it painfully across my face. My eyes stung, and I couldn’t catch my breath. As the ground came closer, I started to make out shapes and movement. The tiny specs grew, taking the shape of men, horses, and creatures I couldn’t put a name to. There was fire and arrows and the sounds of clashing steel. As I fell, I could see the bright red of blood and hear the screams of pain and fear.

Looming beneath me was the greatest shape of all—an enormous red dragon like the one on the banners. It looked skyward, as if expecting me. I was powerless to stop my decent and unable to change direction. The dragon opened its mouth to reveal hundreds of serrated teeth. Terror raced through me at the thought of being chewed by that beast, but then a glow began at the back of its throat that grew brighter and hotter. Flame poured forth, spouting into the sky directly at me as I fell to meet it.

I awoke with a start. The car was slowing as it pulled into the garage under a luxury apartment building on Central Park West. The driver took a reserved spot right next to an elevator labeled “private.” We exited the limo, and Mr. Smith used a key to unlock access to the elevator. The doors slid open silently to reveal an immaculate marble and mirror interior.

“No thumb print or retinal scan?” I teased at the low-tech manner of entry.

“A very good shape shifter would be able to mimic fingerprints and eyes. And, even your average human with a good knife could take those from someone who had security access.”

His mention of shape shifters made me immediately think of Eddie. He had made an impression on me with his raunchy humor and sweet demeanor. Had I been wrong about him?

It wasn’t until Jason elbowed me with a wide-eyed look that it dawned on me that Mr. Smith knew about the existence of shape shifters. Could this visit have something to do with the events of the past week? How was a wealthy businessman entangled in otherworldly matters?

Before I could ask Mr. Smith what else he knew, the elevator chimed to signal we had reached our destination on the fifty-sixth floor. The doors opened, and we stepped into a space that looked more like a museum than a home. The walls were covered in original Van Goghs, Picassos, and other masters, all contained in heavy, gilded frames and enclosed in glass, dramatically lit by soft spotlights above each piece. Tucked within corners and alcoves were Greek and Roman statuary, some fully intact and others missing heads, arms, and pieces from their torsos.

Placed thoughtfully throughout the large, open space were settees as well as ornately carved chairs; chests; and other pieces of heavy, wood furniture. On top of tables and chests sat decorative objects—vases, glassware, statuettes, jeweled eggs, dolls—some encased in glass and others accessible to touch. Mr. Anshar was clearly a collector of the rare and beautiful, or maybe he simply didn’t know what else to do with his gobs of money.

“Mr. Anshar will be out in a moment. Please have a seat … and don’t touch anything.” Mr. Smith exited via the elevator, leaving Jason and I amidst the relics. I couldn’t imagine how anyone, except perhaps a thief, would ever risk touching items so delicate and valuable.

“Um, where are we supposed to sit? I’m afraid to put my ass on anything,” Jason said, looking around.

“Yeah, maybe we should just stand here and wait.” We tried that for about a minute yet were soon drawn deeper into the room by the myriad objects, looking at everything while touching nothing.

“Do you see anything you like?” I turned at that silken voice to find the man I recognized from the cover of Fortune magazine.

He was a handsome, older man with salt and pepper hair at his temples and ice blue eyes. He still had the smooth skin of youth and could have passed for any age between forty and fifty-five years old. He carried himself with the supreme confidence of a man who worked hard and had earned his way to the top. He smiled, and his eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners.

I consciously forced myself not to get star stuck. “It’s hard to choose a favorite. Everything in this room is stunning.”

“Well, if there is something in particular that catches your fancy, consider it yours.”

Startled and suspicious, yet intrigued all the same, I asked, “Why would you do that?”

He waved around the room, as if that offered sufficient explanation. When I didn’t react, he smiled patiently and said, “I have plenty of priceless objects, and I like showing off my wealth by giving away extravagant gifts.” I couldn’t tell whether he was joking.

I shook my head. “Thank you, but I can’t accept anything. May I ask why you have brought us here?”

“Right to business? I can respect that. Why don’t we talk in my office? Mr. Ryker, you may come along if you’d like.”

We followed him down a long hallway, passing bedrooms, bathrooms, a music room with a grand piano, and even a game room with a billiard table. The museum-like quality extended throughout the house with Persian rugs, crystal chandeliers, ornate furniture, and more artwork, until we entered his office. Typical of the rest of the apartment, Nathan had a massive carved desk with legs in the shape of lion claws. However, behind that antique monstrosity was a full wall mounted with rare weapons.

The objects on display were placed in historical order, with the oldest weapons starting on the left most wall and the more modern weapons ending farthest to the right. Nathan seemed to have at least one of almost every type of weapon created: daggers, swords, maces, axes, pole arms, war hammers, muskets, flintlock pistols, revolvers, carbines, repeaters, semi-automatics, and full-automatics.

The collection was behind a wall of security glass, but it was brightly illuminated, providing most of the light in the room. This was something Jason and I could appreciate much more than art. We both ogled the display like children on Christmas morning.

“As you can see, I appreciate not only beauty but power, which brings us to why I asked you here. I would like to attain your services to retrieve something that was stolen from me. But only someone with special qualifications will be capable of pulling off a feat such as this one. As such, I need to know whether you are the right person for the job.” He paused dramatically, as if expecting me to know what he was talking about. I didn’t. “Let me see it.”

“See what?” I asked, confused.

“The amulet,” he explained, gesturing toward my chest.

How the hell did he know about the amulet? A wave of panic washed through me as I scrambled my brain, trying to figure out who knew about the amulet and could have shared that information with Nathan Anshar. It left me cold, reinforcing what Fox Mulder always said,
Trust no one
. However, I was in a difficult spot. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about when the shape of the amulet was obvious through my tight T-shirt. We could make a run for it, although I didn’t know a faster way out than the elevator, and Mr. Smith and his bulky driver were likely waiting for us at the bottom.

“So the rumors are true; you do have it. I can tell by the look on your face that you are trying to figure out how to keep it from me.”

“How did you know? Who told you?”

“I am a very well-connected man, at more levels than you can imagine, and believe me when I say I am not the only one who knows you have it. You’re right to be cautious, Miss Hayes. There are worse things than death, and many who would use those kinds of means to possess that amulet.”

“Do you know what it is? Why it is so valuable? What does it do?”

Jason placed his hand on my arm to stop me. The questions had just tumbled unbidden out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant to ask them, to show my lack of understanding, but I was so desperate for answers I couldn’t stop myself.

Nathan didn’t look at me like I was prey, as I would have expected from someone who had just learned they held the advantage. Instead, he said, “As valuable as the amulet is alone, it is exponentially more powerful when coupled with another very special object. The amulet is almost like a brain without a body. It has no way to put voice to thoughts or actions to intentions. You will never know what it is truly capable of until you learn to communicate with it. To do that, you must find its body.”

“Is that what you want to hire me to find?”

“Yes. The object I am searching for is an ancient weapon. It was once one of the most prized items in my collection.” He stood, turning to face the wall of relics behind him. I noticed then an empty spot on the wall directly behind his chair. He placed a gentle hand to the glass, as if remembering the feel of the weapon in his hands. “It was stolen from me about ten years ago, and I wish to have it back.”

“How will retrieving this item help me if I only have to give it back to you? Do you seriously think I’ll turn over the amulet to you, as well?” My hackles went up, anticipating a confrontation. There was no way in hell I was going to turn over everything to him, especially not knowing what these objects were capable of.

He turned back to me and smiled. “Of course not, Miss Hayes. Once you retrieve it, please consider it a gift from me to you, even more so than any of the pieces you were admiring earlier. This item was almost made for you.”

Was he serious? He was simply going to let me have it? There had to be another angle I was missing.

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why would you just let me have something so valuable and supposedly powerful?”

“Because I need a skilled fighter to wield it on my behalf. What I ask for in return is your service … to me.”

There was always a catch. “Sorry, but I already have a job. I work for myself because I don’t make for a particularly obedient employee.”

“I can vouch for that,” Jason interjected dryly.

“I’ve been told I make an excellent boss. The benefits are second to none. I will double your pay; you’ll have an opportunity to visit exotic new places and meet interesting characters; and best of all, I will teach you, train you. You will need someone to guide you in the use of your powers, to introduce you to the world you have forgotten. If you do this, I will tell you everything you wish to know, including who you are.”

Shit, that was a tempting offer … but at what cost? Was this knowledge worth the price of my freedom? Given more time, would I be able to learn this information anyway? I had been piecing things together bit by bit. Sure, it was slow and tedious, but I might be able to figure it out eventually without Nathan. However, would I be able to survive that long? I was being hunted by deadly creatures, and it was more than likely they would find me and end me before I could learn enough to defend myself.

I looked to Jason for help.

“Don’t do it,” he said firmly. “You can’t trust him. You don’t know what he’ll make you do, and I can guarantee the price will be too high. We’ll find another way.”

I turned back to Nathan, still uncertain. “How are you involved in all of this?”

Nathan sat back down slowly, interlocking his fingers and placing his hands on the desk in front of him, looking deadly serious. “Emma, I know your mother.”

I took a sharp intake of breath and sprang to my feet, Jason quickly following, taking my hand supportively. Of all the things I might have expected him to say, mentioning my mother hadn’t even been a thought.

“You knew my mother?” I practically shouted.

“No, Miss Hayes. I
know
your mother.”

The synapses in my brain stopped firing for a few seconds, and all I could feel was a blooming sensation in my chest that I didn’t recognize. When the thoughts came flooding back, I realized the unknown feeling was joy, hope. Nonetheless, as quickly as it had come, I obliterated the emotion with harsh reality.

I had assumed my biological parents were dead; otherwise, why would I have ended up here? If my mother was alive, wouldn’t she have been there to protect me, to keep me with her? How had I ended up here, and did she care? The endless questions were enough to drive me mad.

When I was finally able to produce a sound, it sounded something like “uhgrgh,” and then Nathan’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and put it to his ear, listening to the caller on the other end. His eyes flew up to meet mine, suddenly looking very concerned. All he said into the phone was, “Stall them,” and then hung up.