Secret Santa

A chill slithered down my back like a drip of ice-cold water.

“Let’s skip the exposition.” Then, scolding myself for how rude I was being, I added, “Just until we have Penny safe. Then I want to know it all.”

This appeased Nolan, because he continued, skipping over the backstory from were-Grandma. “It’s a type of lesser fae that feeds on fear, in the literal sense. Older records say it goes after the amygdala”—he had to work to emphasize the a—“ya know, the emotional core of the brain. Seems like the fae originated in England in the sixteenth century, or that’s when the first written record of it shows up. It could be way older, or have had a different—”

I cleared my throat.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“What kind of fae is it?”

“It’s a tidal fae, salt water. It moves with the phases of the moon, coming up when the moon is full, then going back to the water once it’s fully fed, usually by the time the next full moon is out. It has a pretty long hibernation period. If the gaps between stories’re a good indication, once this thing is back in the water it’s not coming back for ’nother forty years.”

A knot in my throat threatened to choke me. The full moon was only days away. If this thing planned to complete its business and go to ground before then, we were running out of time.

“Any idea where we can find it?”

“’Parently it can make short spatial jumps. That’s how it gets in and out of houses.” And inside police stations. “But it’s pretty consistent as far as locations. Somewhere within a few miles of water, where there are dark, cool places for it to hide.”

“So, pretty much the entire city of New York and all the surrounding areas.” Cripes, everything from Brooklyn to the Bronx fit the bill. If this bastard was hiding in the subway system, I would kill it on principle alone.

“Sorry, Secret. I wish I could give you more.”

“I know. Thanks.” I hung up and looked to Desmond, but his chair sat empty.

I hadn’t felt him leave.

Instead of following him, I opened my phone and made another call. I had an idea, and if I was right I would save a little girl’s life. If I was wrong, the Alvarez family would never be the same.

Chapter Thirteen

I met Holden at the corner of Queen’s Boulevard and 40th where he found a parking spot for his BMW a block away from the Paradiso. Across the street a Queen’s bound 7 train had just unloaded and a bustle of commuters exited the covered stairwell of the station. He handed me the item I had requested.

I took the katana and held it in the crook of my arm. As he locked the car he said, “I never thought when you gave me that key I’d be using it to be your errand boy, fetching your weapons.”

“And I didn’t think you’d use it to break in at all hours and harass me while I slept, so let’s call it even.”

“It’s only harassment if you don’t like it.”

My mouth formed a hard line, and if looks could kill, Holden Chancery would be an obliterated pile of steaming vampiric ash. Since I had not yet learned to kill telekinetically, he remained in one solid piece with a smirk on his face that would have melted me under better conditions.

When it became apparent I didn’t find his flirting amusing, he asked, “Where are your werewolves?”

“Dominick followed Desmond. I don’t know where they went.”

“And you think you can do a better job of finding their sister than they can?”

“No. I think we can do a better job.”

He sat on the hood of his car and crossed his arms. As usual he looked impeccable, wearing a camel-colored trench over black trousers and a mint-green dress shirt. His hair was brushed back so nothing interrupted my view of his dark-chocolate-hued eyes. Goddamn, the man was beautiful.

“You need me.” It wasn’t a question, they way he emphasized the need.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I considered telling him he could take his help and shove it, that I could find Penny myself. The problem was I did need Holden, as much as it pained me to admit it to him, and I wasn’t willing to put pride ahead of the task at hand.

“Yes, I need you.”

He investigated his nails as if there was something deeply interesting buried under them. There wasn’t. Holden got a manicure more often than most socialites. Was the son of a bitch waiting for me to beg?

“Holden, will you please help me?” What I was thinking was more along the lines of Holden, if you don’t agree to help me, there will be blood all over this sword before I even start hunting for fae.

“On one condition.”

“Condition? No. Fuck you. No conditions.” I turned on my heel and walked down the block. I wasn’t ten feet away when the loud clearing of his throat made me pivot back to him. Anger bubbled though my veins and my gums ached, threatening to expose my fangs. I was so livid I wanted to bite him, which meant I was angrier than I’d been in a very long time.

“Secret.” He frowned and shook his head. My rage must have been palpable.

I growled. “There is a girl’s life at stake here. Even you have to appreciate that.”

“Someone’s life is always at stake. That’s the world we live in. Sometimes you save lives, sometimes you take them, and sometimes you do nothing. Not everyone gets to live.”

“How can you be so cold?”

“I’m dead. Whether the living continue to live doesn’t impact me. I only came because you said you needed me to.”

“Then help me.”

There was no humor left in his expression. He now looked as serious as I felt. “On one condition,” he repeated.

Red-hot rage boiled over me, and my skin prickled with the electric sensation of it. “I saved your life. You owe me everything. I am your Tribunal leader.” The last words came out in a snarl.

Around us the wind picked up and debris skittered down the sidewalk, scraping over the concrete with an eerie chittering sound. Holden’s frown deepened, but he dug his hands into his pockets and looked resolved to not move from the spot. I could claim that I’d call down the retribution of the Tribunal on him and hold him treasonous for not helping me on my command, but we both knew I wouldn’t. What I was doing had nothing to do with the council.

After a silence stretched between us for miles, I set my katana down and leaned against it. With the blade sheathed I wasn’t worried about dulling the edges, but I might scuff the ebony case. So be it, the sword had been through worse. I sighed. “Name your condition.”

“I want you to acknowledge there’s something going on here.” He motioned between us.

“Holden…” Suddenly my feet were the most interesting thing on the cold sidewalk.

“No, listen to me.” The sharp edge to his tone caused me to look up, and I found his penetrating gaze locked on me with such longing it made an icy pit swell inside my throat. I nodded and licked my lips, but they still felt dry. He continued, “I will help you, because I would follow you to hell and back. But when this is over I need your word that you will stop ignoring this.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you.”

My hand clenched on the sword and the pit dropped from my throat to my stomach. “I can’t promise you that.”

“Just tell me you’ll give it a night. Not now, not even soon. I want one night to see what this is, without all the rest of the bullshit. No fights, no council, no werewolves.”

Without having sensed him move, he now stood in front of me with his hands hovering a hairsbreadth from touching my arms. A shudder wracked my body, because I wanted him to close the small gap between us but I fought against my better judgment to let him. The memory of what had happened between us in a dream mingled with the visceral knowledge of what his real-world kisses did to my senses.

I took a step backwards out of his reach and picked up my weapon.

“I can’t promise you when,” I confessed.

“Say yes.”

“One night?”

He nodded.

I looked out into the street as cars whisked by, kicking up debris that caught in the breeze. An old newspaper tumbled down the sidewalk where it battered against my anchored feet. “Okay.”

Holden didn’t question my acceptance, but I did. Instead, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and offered me a small, apologetic smile. “What do you need me to do?”

“Find me old blood. Lots of it.”

Sure, I was part vampire. And of course my sense of smell was better than a human’s and as good as the average supernatural. I could track a rabbit from a mile away thanks to my werewolf DNA, and I could smell fresh blood from the smallest cut. But old blood was tricky. Old blood lost most of its potency after a week as the coppery promise of sweet plasma faded.

Older vampires could still smell it, though.

Desmond and Dominick would try to find Penny using her unique scent, which would lead them all over Sunnyside since it was her territory. They’d follow her smell to the places she most commonly ventured and would waste a lot of time eliminating obvious locations.

Instead of looking for the girl, I was going to look for her abductor. I hoped I hadn’t totally misinterpreted the wordless clue given to me by the ghost of Ashley Parsons. She’d only pointed, but I wanted to believe that meant the killer was hiding in the Queen’s part of Long Island. If I was right, he wouldn’t have taken Penny far. I would use Holden like a bloodhound and track the fae directly to his lair.

I had faith in the plan working. Whether I’d get there in time was less certain. We hadn’t found any bodies of the missing youths yet, and I had to believe we might still find them alive.

I’d left my bag in Holden’s car, along with Brigit’s sweater. If we were going up against a tidal fae that lived somewhere dank and nasty, I didn’t want to explain to my protégée why her pretty white sweater was destroyed. I had tied my new blade to my thigh and liked the feel of the extra weight and the protection it signified. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">