Addicted (4 page)

“You have a high pain tolerance,” London noted.

“It’s not the loudest voice.” Joe ran a trembling hand over his chest.

She got what he meant. “How long?”

“Going on three weeks. Rand promised tonight, if I survived today.” He helped pack up the unused supplies.

“Want me to drive?”

“No, just get in.”

London waited while Joe settled in and buckled the safety belt awkwardly. She thought about helping, but he had it under control and didn’t seem the type who would take kindly to being babied over a flesh wound. Faking out Rand was one thing, and London had no problem with that. Rand had no care for them so she had no issue with lying to him.

As they drove off London watched for any sign of fey who had escaped, especially a pixie and a wingless fairy. She didn’t catch a glimpse of anything. All the way back she wondered what became of them and hoped that they found a way to safety.

The job left her feeling dirty. She’d been called a mercenary before and denied it. She was a private investigator, not a hired gun. Not until today. Today, she’d been a mercenary. Today, she’d killed beings defending their territory without knowing anything about them. That’s what the curse did to her. More than just causing her to suffer the pain of craving, it cursed her in deeper, more personal ways.

“You are thinking about it too much,” Joe cut a glance over to her. “You are trying to rationalize and moralize this, but there is nothing rational about it. And morals are for people with options, which we don’t have.”

“Don’t we have options? Aren’t there any other Sidhe we could find?”

“After the Collapse, we are looking at the big ‘Game Over.’ London, I spend every waking minute trying to find other Sidhe, but once you get a rep for working with Changelings, not a lot of other fey will give you the time of day. They lie to protect what few Sidhe survive. And they don’t give a hairy rat’s ass about humans, much less cursed humans, which is like a diseased subspecies of humans by most fey standards.” He cocked a thumb back over his shoulder. “Those fey you spared? They wouldn’t have done the same for you. Don’t think for a second they would have. Fey don’t care about humans.”

Surprised that he knew what she’d done she glanced at him, and he pinned her with a war-weary look. The kind of look that said he’d seen it all and had suffered the consequences of it.

“You do what you have to in order to survive. Just like the rest of us.” Joe gripped the wheel and glared at the road ahead. There were so many undercurrents there. So much he was not telling. So much history that scarred and tormented him.

And none of it her business. So she let it go and just stared at the countryside all the way back to town. Ugly as the situation was, it was all she had. Work for Rand, get her periodic dose of the Touch, and keep searching for a better solution. At least it was a way to maintain, a way to survive. That was more than she’d had since the Sidhe that cursed her had been murdered.

Chapter Six

That sense of having a safety net lasted all of two weeks.

London had almost convinced herself that she could settle into something of a routine. She’d taken on three cases, the first ones since Rico cursed her, and she’d solved them. She made her rent with cash enough for food and expenses for the month. Things almost seemed to be looking up, as much as it could for a cursed human.

Then she’d gone back to the Fairy Circle Shop. She’d wanted to get the arrangements set up for her next dose. The first hint of anxiety was beginning to set in, the tremble in her hands that was becoming too familiar.

But the Fairy Circle Shop was empty. Abandoned.

For two days she staked it out. Besides the occasional passerby cupping their face to peer through the glass at the shadowed interior, there was no activity. Dread pooled like sickness in the pit of her gut.

It was after sunset when someone rapped on her driver’s side window. London rolled it down and looked up at Joe’s shadowed face. “They’re gone.”

“So I can see,” she got out of the car. “Where are they?”

“The cave’s gone. Totally crushed.” Joe hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I tagged it with the GPS on my phone the first time I was there, so I could find it in a pinch if I needed to.”

“Good idea.” She folded her arms. “What happened?”

“My best guess, raiding the All-Mother’s temple wasn’t such a hot idea. Could’ve pissed off any number of the wrong people. One of the few times we should be grateful that no one gives a shite about us. They don’t care enough to hunt us down and take revenge for our part.”

London dragged her fingers through her hair. “Great. That’s just bloody great!” She spun and punched the heel of her hand against the hood of her car, leaving a dent. “Now what are we going to do?”

He handed her a card with his contact information. “We keep looking. I’m going to head to Northern Ireland and see if I can find any leads up there.”

“This is the second time I’ve been roped into doing the dirty work for a Sidhe and then got left high and dry. They are starting to get on my last nerve.” She accepted the card and stuck it in her pocket. “Selena once told me I needed to think like a vampire and quit doing deals with them. Just hunt them down and take what I need by force. Next Sidhe I find, I am seriously thinking about doing that.”

Joe just chuckled, “Good luck with that. Any Sidhe with any kind of experience is going to be the devil’s own to subdue.”

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious. I’m getting fed up with not being in control of my own life.”

“I just don’t see it happening,” Joe leaned against the hood of her car. “You’d have to catch an earthborn and word on the street is that some Sidhe named Donovan is sweeping up the earthborn Sidhe and taking them to a safe house out west. You aren’t going to get past him. You aren’t likely to uncover any earthborns that he couldn’t find. So you might as well resign yourself to being someone’s hired gun.”

“Even if I was willing to resign myself to that, how can I find a Sidhe? Much less one who will take me on?”

“Same way you found Rand. Just keep digging.” Joe glanced up at the empty Fairy Circle Shop and then up to the stars as if somewhere there might be an answer. “Tell you what, you find a Sidhe you can capture and keep drugged up like Rand’s so-called boss, give me a call. If I find a Sidhe willing to take on some cursed hired help, I’ll give you a shout.”

“Deal.” London passed him her business card before climbed back into her car. She waited until Joe had walked off before driving away herself. Her mind worked over the sliver of information he’d given her. A Sidhe called Donovan was rounding up the earthborn. She’d heard that name before. The Changeling that killed Rico had mentioned it.

Damn the Sidhe anyway. Damn all the fey. They cursed her. They cursed any human they got a notion to curse. Cursed. Enslaved. Same difference. She’d had enough of it.

Might be a long shot. Might get her killed. But it was someplace to start. Time to get serious and quit letting the Sidhe jerk her around. Time to take control for a change.

###

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Enchanted

Touched #3

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Enchanted

London wasn’t looking for Mr. Right. Not even Mr. Right Now. No, she searched for someone much more special than that. More unique. She searched for someone with that special Touch. The Touch she craved. The Touch she would die without.

Most humans cursed with this particular addiction died lonely, miserable deaths. But London wasn’t most humans. She wouldn’t go out that way.

Six weeks.

For six weeks she’d scrounged for every lead. Hit up favors from every underworld scum, fey or otherwise. Promised some disgusting favors to others, if they could point her in the right direction.

Six weeks of total agony. The need… the longing… twisted within her, becoming more and more unbearable with each breath. Finding a Sidhe wasn’t an option. It meant her life and her sanity.

But finding this special someone was only the first problem. The second… well, that’s what the gun was for.

So when she spotted tall, dark, and Sidhe slipping out of the curtain of Glamour that disguised the entrance to a fey-only club, London trailed him. She knew how to tail a suspect, not that this fellow taxed her skill set. He glanced up from his smartphone just often enough to navigate.

To the uninitiated, this particular Sidhe could pass for human. A really sexy human male. The kind of sexy that made you stare. The kind of drop dead gorgeous Hollywood would pay millions for, but could only achieve after hours in a make-up chair and with careful camera angles and creative lighting. There was simply no such thing as an unattractive Sidhe. Heck, there was no such thing as a kind-of good-looking Sidhe. They were all— every last cursed one of them— too damned sexy for anyone’s good.

So that was one reason London hadn’t a single doubt that her prey was Sidhe.

The rugby jersey, the jeans, the trainers, none of it fooled her for a second. He moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, covering ground easily on those long, sexy legs of his. London spoiled herself, admiring his gorgeous bum as she followed. Those jeans fit him wicked perfectly.

The enjoyment lasted only a few blocks, where he passed from the sparsely populated industrial area to a street lined with shops. The Sidhe ducked into the music store. London paused outside, watching him through the window as he flipped through CDs. She smiled to herself. That should occupy him just long enough.

Within five minutes, she parked her car along the Sidhe’s route. London squeezed the steering wheel, but her hands still trembled. Every second telescoped with impatient agony as she glared at the empty street.
Where is he? What if he doesn’t come back this way?
The earthborns, the young and inexperienced Sidhe, didn’t often stray from the club. There was no telling how long she’d have to wait for another opportunity. “Come on, now,” she murmured. “You’ve jerked me around long enough.”

The Sidhe turned the corner two blocks down, heading her way. London stared at him, transfixed by the perfection of his body and the promise of his magic, both lethal obsessions. Snapping herself out of her daze, she accused him, “You did this to me.” Maybe not this guy in particular, but one of his kind. They didn’t care, these Sidhe. None of them cared. Just like Rico, who cursed her so she’d work for him. Just like the dark-eyed Sidhe whose name she didn’t even know, but who’d sent her and the other hapless humans he controlled off on a doomed temple raid, to slaughter or be slaughtered. They just didn’t care. None of these Sidhe cared.

They’d meant to enslave her with this curse. Time for them to pay the price. Time for her to take control again.

The Sidhe carried a small shopping bag, his attention focused on the CD case in his hand, reading as he walked.

London slipped unnoticed from her vehicle and circled around the rear bumper, out of his line of sight. As she peeked over the car, her hand slipped into her blazer pocket. She’d have to time it just right. When the Sidhe passed the front bumper, London moved.

Not every private investigator was trained in hand-to-hand combat. In truth, London hadn’t done much herself until she’d begun to specialize in parahuman cases, those involving former humans who’d become either vamps or weres. Even now, she’d still be considered a novice. But what skills she did possess, coupled with the element of surprise and the determination of her addiction, inspired her body to flow almost without her conscious effort.

As she strolled past the Sidhe, he glanced up and flashed a smile so brilliant that she couldn’t help but blush as she smiled back. Certainly, the Sidhe never expected her to catch his wrist as she ‘brushed’ against him. The click of the handcuff snapping into place caught his attention, too late though. London spun in behind him, jerking back the wrist she’d snared and grabbing his other arm before he could fathom what she meant to do. Just after she locked the second cuff into place, London kicked him in the back of the knee, forcing him to kneel before her.