Читать книгу Grey's Magic - Dawn Addonizio - Страница 6

Scarlett lowered herself onto a barstool and ordered a shot of whiskey from a Hawaiian-shirt-clad bartender. She tilted her head back as she tipped it past her lips, closing her eyes as it burned a fiery path down her throat. She sighed in appreciation, thankful that her father had insisted on paying for a full bar.

Tapping the empty glass with two fingers, she signaled the bartender to make the next one a double. She gave the dark purple hem of her bridesmaid’s dress an irritable yank as she waited for him to finish with another order.

She supposed she should be grateful that her new sister-in-law hadn’t chosen one of the more frilly contraptions she’d seen at the bridal shop. Whoever had designed some of those dresses bore an unhealthy obsession with making women look like cupcakes.

At least this frock had a simple cut and was short enough to give her a full range of movement. But Scarlett still preferred the loose robes that her people, the sidhe, wore for such ceremonies.

Or even better, her favorite jeans and leather vest.

Not that the pointy heels her mother had insisted she wear didn’t have some intriguing possibilities...too bad they all involved using them as weaponry instead of shoes.

Scarlett’s face ached from the strain of forcing a smile for the pictures. And it was going to take a week of sparring with her cousins to work out the knots in her shoulders and neck from sitting through getting her hair and nails done.

Being surrounded by all of these humans made her tense as hell.

She downed the second shot, the warmth in her belly taking root, and reached up to massage the base of her neck. A man in a rumpled suit grinned at her from down the bar. She glared at him, but it wasn’t the deterrent she’d hoped.

He slid over to sit on the stool next to hers, the crinkles around his eyes glowing white against his too-tanned face as his smile widened. Combined with his shaggy, sun-streaked hair, it was a sure bet that he was one of her brother’s beach bum friends.

“You’re Doyle’s sister, right?” he slurred, confirming her observation. “He never told me how pretty you are. Let me buy your drink, I insist.”

He laughed at his own joke and Scarlett cringed. He was obviously some piss artist who’d been drunk long before the free wedding bar opened.

“No,” she growled, adding a grudging, “thank you,” as she remembered her mother’s dire warnings to be nice to Doyle and Violet’s guests.

“I’m Joe,” he continued, unfazed by her refusal. The human leaned forward and brushed against her shoulder, the alcohol fumes on his breath wafting into her face as he called out to get the bartender’s attention.

Scarlett jerked away, sweat trickling an uncomfortable path between her breasts. He was oblivious to her anxiety as he accepted a fresh drink and pointed for hers to be refilled. Then he clinked his glass against hers with a hearty, “To Doyle and Violet!”

Nearby guests cheered and raised their glasses in salute. It seemed Scarlett was expected to do the same, and she tried to steady her shaking hand as she lifted her own drink.

People crowded closer to tap her glass, a suffocating mass of bodies hemming her in. Their voices crashed against her senses, loud and unintelligible through the blood pounding in her ears.

Scarlett looked up toward the rustic wooden planks of the ceiling and tried to suck more air into her lungs. Her vision wavered as she blinked at the roof timbers, decorated with white paper garlands and strings of tiny lights. The myriad twinkling points grew brighter and coalesced into a dazzling supernova.

Scarlett swayed on her stool.

Suddenly there was a hand at her elbow, pulling her to her feet and leading her away from the cluster of humans.

Pat Sparrow’s familiar scent of woodland spice enveloped her and she almost sobbed with the relief of it. He was her brother’s best friend, and one of the few men outside her family that she trusted.

“Easy there, Letty,” he murmured in Gaelic as he steered her from the restaurant and toward a quiet bench on the docks. Tiki torches lent a velvety glow to the walkway. They flickered in the breeze, their fiery reflections shimmering on the rippled surface of the water.

Pat urged her to sit.

Scarlett’s panic faded to annoyed embarrassment. “I’m fine,” she snapped in their home tongue.

He sighed and gave her a look so filled with pity it made her want to scream. “Letty, you haven’t been fine for almost two hundred years.”

She scowled at him. “Well, I would be if I didn’t have to visit the blasted human realm every time I want to see my own brother. Now that he’s taking one of them as his soul mate, he’ll probably never come home,” she predicted with disgust.

Pat arched a brow at her. “Violet is perfectly lovely, and she makes Doyle happier than I’ve ever seen him. Besides, you know we don’t choose our soul mates. If we’re lucky, fate allows us to find them.”

Scarlett knew he was right. She had even developed a grudging affection for her brother’s human. But the look in Pat’s eyes when he spoke of soul mates left her no doubt that he was thinking of his own date.

“I suppose you think you’ve found your soul mate as well,” she scoffed. “Though, in that sleeveless dress of hers, it’s hard not to notice that your Aegishjalmur tattoo hasn’t imprinted on her yet. At least Doyle’s human can claim that much.”

The warmth in Pat’s eyes fled. “You and I have been friends for a long time, Letty, but I’m warning you to tread lightly on the subject of Sydney. She is my soul mate. My tattoo reacts to her touch. You know my human blood has always interfered with my sidhe magic. That must be why the Aegishjalmur didn’t imprint on her skin.”

“Sparrow?” called a concerned female voice. “Is she okay?”

Scarlett smiled sourly at the human in question. Sydney appeared ethereal in her ankle length, strapless gown. Her long, golden-brown hair floated in a cloud around her pale shoulders, and she looked softer and more feminine than Scarlett would ever be.

“Yes, love, just give us another minute,” Pat replied.

“No problem.” Sydney smiled at him, her eyes sympathetic as they travelled to Scarlett before she turned and went back inside.

Humiliation stained Scarlett’s cheeks as she wondered what Pat had told his human about her. “Sparrow?” she mocked. “Do you think you and your ‘soul mate’ will graduate to a first name basis any time soon?”

Pat’s jaw clenched. “You need to stop pretending you’re jealous of her,” he snapped in English. “You’ve used me as an excuse not to live your life for far too long.”

He got up and followed Sydney back to the reception, leaving Scarlett feeling as if he’d slapped her. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to allow the tears to escape them.

She needed to get out of there. But she’d never hear the end of it if she left her brother’s wedding this early.

Maybe she had time to slip away for a calming walk on the beach. She rose from the bench, hoping her mother hadn’t already noticed her absence. The heel of her shoe snagged on a wooden deck plank and she expelled a vivid curse, barely catching herself from toppling over.

She’d give both pinky toes to be able to conjure her favorite pair of leather boots right now. But unlike Pat, she didn’t have Seelie clearance to use gratuitous magic in the human realm.

Muttering to herself, Scarlett yanked off the ridiculous shoes and set out barefoot down the ramp and away from the party.

The solitude and salt air was a balm to her frazzled nerves as she meandered along the deserted sidewalk. If this place wasn’t infested with humans, she might actually enjoy spending time here.

She turned down a residential street that bordered the beach, Pat’s parting words replaying in her mind. He’d accused her of using him as an excuse not to live her life. And if she was honest with herself, she knew it for truth.

When she was younger, she hadn’t had eyes for anyone but him. Though she hadn’t been just another village girl swooning after his mouthwatering looks. She’d been a terrified teenager who idolized the boy that had saved her.

She closed her eyes and slammed her mental shutters down against the memory. Shaking her head, she drifted to a stop and peered across the unfenced yard of the house to her left.

It looked like cutting through the property would bring her straight to the ocean. There were lights on behind the windows of the house, but the curtains were drawn. She was debating the wisdom of trespassing, when she sensed that she was being watched.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Grey stood in the shadows outside the quaint beachside cottage. Ceramic garden gnomes peaked out from the colorful hibiscus and bougainvillea blooming along the fence-line. A welcome mat embroidered with butterflies beckoned visitors onto the front porch.

The cheerfulness felt grotesque, considering the profanities that had been committed inside the cottage less than forty-eight hours ago. The profile fit the unsub he’d been chasing for three months now. He’d been to three other crime scenes, just like this one, spread across the country from New Hampshire, to Colorado, to Texas, and now Florida.

He couldn’t figure out how this psycho was choosing his victims. Much less how he found the time to travel across North America stalking them.

Grey sighed and shook his head, trying to push his frustration aside and get into the mind of the killer.

Key Largo was a beach community. It thrived on tourism. None of the residents would think twice about a stranger hanging around this neighborhood.

The perimeter of the yard was a thick mass of foliage. Normally it would provide an ideal place for a predator to lie in wait. But the thorns on these bushes would scratch the hell out of anyone who tried to use them for cover.

There was no sign of forced entry. Nor was there any sign of a struggle near the front or back doors. And all the windows were locked tight from the inside.

It had been the same at each of the other crime scenes. Perhaps this victim had felt safe enough to leave her doors unlocked? But not all of the women had lived in such casual neighborhoods.

Which meant that they had to be inviting him in. Or he had keys.

Grey gritted his teeth at the all-too-familiar theories, wishing his brain would pick up something new. An unsub who had killed in four states in as many months would need access to a chain of inter-state businesses to maintain local professional ties in all of these cities. But Liza, Grey’s technical analyst, hadn’t found evidence of any victims having recent contact with professionals who had access to their customers’ keys.

And when a tech as good as Liza found nothing, there was usually nothing to find.

Maybe Grey would get lucky and something about this poor woman would finally give him a bead on the bastard.

A faint sound interrupted Grey’s musings, and his eyes narrowed as they scanned the surrounding darkness for its source. A lone figure approached along the sidewalk. The moon slid from behind a cloud, its light gilding strawberry blonde hair, and revealing the most incredible woman Grey had ever seen.

Tall and lithe, she moved with the grace of a panther. Her sheath dress clung to her lean curves, flaring to a stop at mid-thigh, and showcasing toned legs with a sexy bronzed glow. Her eyes flashed with awareness as she slowed her walk, her full lips gleaming beneath the caress of her tongue—as if she was tasting the air for danger.

Grey’s heart jumped inside his chest and he inhaled sharply. Her eyes flew toward the pool of shadows in the yard, zeroing in on him. Though he knew she couldn’t possibly see him from her vantage point.

He stood immobile, staring at her in fascination and feeling an odd pang of regret as she moved forward, seeming to dismiss his presence.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Scarlett’s pulse sped up as she scanned her surroundings. She felt, more than saw, a lone man standing motionless in the next yard. Adrenaline spiked in her blood, fueled by anger.

This was the first moment of peace she’d had all day. She’d be damned if she let another human ruin it. She moved closer, pretending as if she didn’t see him. Then she stopped and pivoted on her heel, her stance defensive as she faced him.

“Do you make a habit of hiding in the bushes and spying on women?” she demanded.

Chocolate brows rose in surprise above dark eyes brimming with intelligence. He recovered quickly and flashed her a chagrinned smile, revealing an intriguing dimple in an otherwise smooth cheek. As her vision adjusted to the gloom, she saw that he had a trim, muscular physique and skin the color of coffee with a hint of cream.

“Do you make a habit of walking the streets alone at night?” he countered. “This isn’t the safest place to be,” he added, his expression turning grim.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at his change in tone. He had a familiar scent about him. Her nose tingled with recognition as she realized it was a pungent combination of herbs that her people used to make a particularly potent sleeping draught—a Morpheus potion.

Her body tensed. “Is that a threat?”

He gave her an odd look. “No, I’m …”

He reached into his pocket as he spoke, and she leapt at him before he could complete the sentence. She wasn’t about to give him a chance to dose her with Morpheus.

Grey grunted in shock as the woman came at him full force, sweeping his leg and sending him crashing to the ground. She landed atop him with one arm braced against his neck. Her other hand rose in a powerful arc behind her head, and he had a split second to realize that it was clenched around a stiletto heeled shoe.

With the pointy end aimed at his face.

Years of martial arts training kicked in, and he sent an uppercut flying into her ribs. He took advantage of her surprised gasp and deflected her chokehold, flipping her onto her back.

Then she began to fight in earnest.

They rolled across the lawn in a wild tussle of limbs, each landing punches heavy enough to bruise bone and steal breath. She refused to be subdued, and he realized with shock that she might be able to best him in a fight.

“FBI,” he panted, groaning as she landed a brutal blow to his kidney. “I wasn’t threatening you. I was trying to show you my badge. I’m FBI.”

He rolled off of her and held up his hands, hoping she would accept the truce. But he kept his elbows tucked into a defensive position just in case she wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy.

She leapt to her feet, nimble as a cat, and took a step backward. Her wary eyes never left his face as she towered over him.

“Do you want to see my badge?” he asked, pointing to his pocket. When she didn’t respond, he slowly reached for it, keeping one hand up in supplication.

She took another step back, almost stumbling on one of the garden gnomes. Her face was smudged with dirt and her fancy dress was probably ruined. But her sharp, sea-green gaze tracked his every move.

“I’m Special Agent Greyson Derrington,” he explained. “I’m investigating a murder that occurred here two days ago. That’s why I said it wasn’t safe for you to walk alone at night.”

He watched her face as her mind processed his words. She glanced at his badge, but seemed to be more interested in discerning the truth from his eyes. The tension she held in her muscles relaxed and he felt his own tension begin to drain away.

“Who are you?” he asked, still incredulous that she’d almost beaten him at hand to hand combat. She was a skilled fighter, and quite possibly the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. It was a dangerous combination.

“My name is Scarlett Thresher,” she answered softly.

Desire shot through his groin at the intense way she held his stare as the musical cadence of her Irish brogue washed over him.

She retreated another step and shook her head, silky strands of hair caressing her cheek where they’d escaped from their array of pins. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” she murmured, looking as bewildered as he felt.

She bent to grab her shoes, then turned and fled back up the sidewalk, slipping away into the darkness before he could formulate a protest.

Grey sat back on his haunches in the grass, stunned. A shimmer of light caught his eye, and he reached down to pick up an earring with a large teardrop diamond glistening in a gold setting. He’d seen its mate resting against the delicate earlobe of the amazing woman he’d just let get away.

He stuck it in his pocket, wincing at the twinge in his ribs. She’d kicked his ass and then bolted without so much as an explanation. He wasn’t sure whether to feel impressed, offended…or turned on.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Scarlett ran, her legs pumping faster and faster, her mind a haze of confusion. She faltered to a stop when she found herself back at the docks by the wedding reception.

Agent Greyson Derrington of the FBI, her brain whispered as she made her way over the wooden planks and past the row of tiki torches. He’d said he was investigating a murder, so he must be part of the human police force.

She puffed at the loose hair on her cheek as she pushed open the door to the building. A cool blast of air hit her, drying the perspiration on her forehead. Scarlett grimaced as she realized what a mess she must look with her sweaty face, torn dress and bare feet.

She sprinted for the washrooms, avoiding the gazes of the other guests, and hurried through the door with the crepe-paper bride taped to it. She locked herself in the largest stall with the sink and steadied her hands on the basin as she tried to calm down.

She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She never should have engaged the man. She should have turned and walked away. But she’d been upset and itching for a fight.

And what a fighter he was. She was almost disappointed that he’d surrendered before she found out if she could beat him. How insane was that?

He’d defended himself against her attacks, yet he lacked the arrogance of many fighters who could claim his skill. He’d attempted to subdue her, but none of his moves had been designed to truly hurt her. And there was something in his eyes that made her want to trust him, despite the fact that he was human.

That had to be the most insane part of all.

And it wasn’t the only disturbing thing about their encounter. There were also the herbs she’d smelled on him. If Agent Greyson Derrington of the FBI had picked up the scent of her people’s most potent sleeping potion from his crime scene, in all probability, his criminal wasn’t human.

She couldn’t allow herself to keep that knowledge a secret. Not if it could help catch a murderer.

She cursed and gave the tap a hard twist, yanking some paper towels from the dispenser so she could wipe the dirt from her face. The careful design that the human hairdresser had taken so much time creating was wrecked.

She began pulling out the remaining hairpins, and groaned as the mirror revealed her bare earlobe. Damn it. She’d lost one of the special dwarven-made diamond earrings that her father had given her for her birthday.

“Scarlett?” her mother’s voice called from outside the stall.

She groaned again. “Yes, Ma,” she replied, trying to sound composed.

“Are you alright? Paddy said you weren’t feeling well.” Marjorie Thresher’s tone was concerned, but there was a strain of exasperation in it. It wasn’t much of a leap for her mother to assume that Scarlett was hiding in the washroom to avoid mingling with the human guests.

Scarlett hesitated. One look at her dress told her that she needed to avoid opening the stall door at all costs. Nothing but faerie dust was going to fix the torn and stained cloth, and she didn’t have any with her.

“Not really, Ma. I think I had a bad oyster from the raw bar,” she improvised. “I’ve been in here wondering if I’m going to be sick.”

Marjorie paused and Scarlett felt her disbelief thick in the air.

“Paddy said you were going for a walk.”

Scarlett dropped her head back and exhaled. “I thought the fresh air might make me feel better,” she answered truthfully.

There was another moment of silence, as if Marjorie was torn between wanting to comfort her daughter, and not truly believing she was ill.

“Do you want me to come in there?” she asked finally. “I may have a soothing potion in my purse…”

“No,” Scarlett replied quickly, and then added, “Thanks, Ma. I’d really just like to blink home and go to bed, if you and Da don’t mind.”

Marjorie sighed. “It’s not your Da and me you should be asking. It’s your brother’s wedding you’ll be leaving early.”

Scarlett swallowed a lump of guilt. But Doyle probably hadn’t expected her to stay as long as she had. He was well aware of how she felt about humans.

“Please tell Doyle and Violet that I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Her mother hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, but then she sighed again and left Scarlett alone in the bathroom.

Scarlett released a breath and thanked the goddess that she hadn’t had to explain to her mother how she’d ruined her bridesmaid’s dress. She loved Ma, but no matter how old Scarlett was, Ma could still make her feel like a disobedient child.

She thought about retracing her steps to look for her earring, but decided against it. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a disheveled state. And she’d had more than enough of the human realm for one day.

Not to mention she’d probably lost it during the fight, and Agent Derrington might still be hanging around his crime scene. The thought of seeing him again made her belly do a weird little flip.

She told herself that her stomach was reacting to her lie about eating bad oysters, and put him from her mind as she gratefully blinked home to the faerie realm.

But later that night, as she tossed in restless sleep, a hard bodied fighter with smooth, brown skin and a dimpled smile watched her from the shadows in her dreams.