Along Came a Spider (22 page)

“And gathering specimens,” I breathed.

The king’s brows lifted at this. “Specimens?”

I glanced around at everyone before my gaze settled on Nicky. “They’ve been trying to get Al to hand over one of us for a long time. They want to study us, dissect us, figure out what we’re made of, how we’re different. Al has always refused. One of them—Agent Spalding—got to me a little over a year ago and . . .” I paused, wondering what I should divulge. “Well, he tricked me into trusting him so he could try to get information about my ability to read the dead. He didn’t find out what he wanted, though, and I caught a glimpse of what he was up to, so he finally gave up trying. But they almost nabbed Nicky this morning. Al took him into protective custody to keep him safe.”

“Protective custody?” Nicky repeated. “Is that what Al called it?”

I averted my gaze and looked at the king instead. “With so much at stake, with so many of us at risk of being taken and abused by the Agency, I’m sure you can understand why it’s so important to work together and not allow them to plant the seeds of distrust.”

The king narrowed his eyes at me, regarding me for a long moment. “I will reserve judgment at present,” he finally announced. “But I will be watching, madam. And if I sense any threat to my family or my business interests, I guarantee that I will deal with it swiftly.”

And without mercy, I imagined.

I gave him a terse nod. “Of course. That’s all anyone can ask.”

When we all said our good-byes to Lavender’s father, I was surprised to see that the king seemed genuinely disappointed that we were leaving. He hugged Lavender and brushed a kiss to my fingertips with a very gentlemanly bow before shaking hands with Seth and Nicky. But his final words were for Nicky.

“Be careful, Mr. Blue,” he said, his blue eyes pegging Nicky with a look of warning. “I do not generally enter into a deadly game until I am sure I know the situation well and am assured of victory. And there are many unknowns in this instance.”

Chapter Sixteen

Lavender finished tying the small braid of hair around my wrist and sighed. “There you go, sweetie. That should help protect you when you’re out and about, make you a little less vulnerable.”

I nodded and looked down at the talisman she had imbued with her magic and friendship to try to keep me safe. “Thanks, Lav.” I looked up and frowned at the gap in her purple locks. “Sorry about your hair.”

She shrugged with a grin. “It’ll grow back.” She snapped her fingers and hair quickly sprouted, growing longer until the new lock was even with the rest. “See?”

“So, will this keep away the dreams, too?” I asked Lavender.

She worked her mouth a little in thought. “No, probably not. Not much I can do about invasions of that variety. Your defenses are down when you sleep, so it’s easy for Dracula to come in, magic talisman or not. Just keep Nicky close. That’ll help.”

“What about ghosts?” I asked. “What do I do if Amanda comes back?”

Lavender’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes, Amanda. Freaking ghosts—they’re a pain in the ass. Do you have any sage handy?”

I glanced at Nicky, who shrugged and shook his head. “Hell if I know.”

“Okay, well, I know one spell that might keep anything from physically crossing your threshold,” Lavender said, nodding. She grabbed the edges of her shirt and pulled it over her head, then started shimmying out of her skirt before Seth rushed forward to block her from Nicky’s wide eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Seth cried. “What the hell are you doing?”

She looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m going to put a protection spell around the house like I did at your cabin last fall.”

“And you have to be naked?” he whispered, jerking his head toward Nicky.

“Oh, Seth, for crying out loud,” she laughed. “Nicky doesn’t care what I look like naked.”

Seth turned around with a protective snarl, his face beginning to shift a little ominously, and Nicky threw up his hands.

“I’m turning around,” Nicky said, making good on his words. “Promise not to peek.”

“Sorry, Nicky,” Lavender said as she finished stripping off her clothes. “The full moon is coming in a couple of days and Seth gets a little more territorial than usual.”

A low, hungry growl began to vibrate deep in Seth’s chest as he took in Lavender’s gorgeous body. I didn’t know for sure, but I was guessing that ramping up his territoriality wasn’t the only effect the full moon had on him. In the next instant, Seth pretty much confirmed my theory when he gathered Lavender in his arms and kissed her savagely as he pressed her against the wall. He hefted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing even closer.

Holy shit.

“Um, Lav,” I stammered, “do you two, um, need to . . . you know . . .” Nicky started to turn around to see what was happening, but I pushed his head back so he was facing away. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry, Trish,” Lavender gasped as Seth left her mouth to nip at her neck. “We might need a few minutes.”

I tore my gaze away, feeling like a total voyeur, and grabbed Nicky’s hand. “Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” he asked, starting to turn his head again.

“Do you want Seth to rip your throat out?” I hissed. “Come on!” I pulled him out of the living room and shut the double doors behind us.

“What the hell was that all about?” Nicky asked, staring at the closed doors.

“I guess it’s a werewolf thing,” I said, trying not to hear the noises of passion coming from the other room. It made me want nothing more than to drag Nicky upstairs and see if he had a little inner wolf in him, too—especially considering the sexy beast I already knew him to be—but we had work to do and I had a feeling time was running out. “Maybe now would be a good time to visit the Asylum.”

He shook his head. “Damn. Guess so.”

I smothered a smile at his dazed look. “Come on, lover,” I cooed. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can have a little fun of our own.”

Nicky’s head bobbed in a nod. “Works for me.” He suddenly pivoted and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder.

I laughed. “Nicky, what the hell are you doing?”

He strode toward the front door, his long strides thundering on the hardwood floor. “Just speeding things up,” he replied, yanking open the door. I laughed again as he hurried down the steps, making my upper body bob with the motion. Then he plopped me down next to the Escalade and pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “Those folks at the Asylum can have one hour with you. Then you’re mine.”

I grinned and returned his kiss with a slow, sultry one of my own. “I’m yours anytime you want me, lover.”

Nicky groaned, then broke away, slipping a little on the ice and snow in his haste to get around to the other side of the SUV. He hopped in and shoved open my door from the inside, then offered me that mischievous grin that assured me he was up to no good. “What are you waiting for, doll? Tick tock.”

For all the levity we’d shared before we reached the Asylum, the moment we arrived at the entrance of the secluded estate nestled deep in a hundred acres of forest in northern Illinois, it was impossible to be lighthearted. There was a heaviness in the air that weighed down on us, growing more profound with each step.

“How the hell do people work here every day?” Nicky muttered as we climbed the stone steps. “This would depress the shit out of me.”

I shook my head, wishing we’d waited until it was daylight to visit, but there was no way I was going to bail after we’d come all that way. Besides, I had a feeling that when Dracula realized he couldn’t get into my thoughts, he wasn’t going to be very happy. And an unhappy Dracula was something I wanted to avoid.

The Asylum had existed in its current form for over a hundred years, and some of its residents had been there for that long. The FMA tried to rehabilitate those who were brought to the Asylum for treatment, but, sadly, few were as successful as J.G. seemed to be. This was hardly my first trip to the last resort for many Tales who were deemed either too dangerous or too unstable to be left in the general population of the FMA prison, but no matter how many times I had to visit, I never got used to the ominous feeling that pervaded the building.

I shuddered when Nicky pounded a fist on the front door and I heard the knock echoing through the hallways. Sensing my uneasiness, Nicky took my hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m good. I just hate this place. Too many opportunities to catch a glimpse into one of the patients’ thoughts when I’m not expecting it.”

“Are you sure you want to go inside?” he asked. “I can talk to Renfield myself.”

But before I could respond, the door swung open to reveal a very austere woman in a plain black dress, her gray hair pulled back flat against her head in a tight bun. Her face was pinched and unfriendly as she looked us over.

“It’s after hours,” she snapped. “No visitors.”

I offered the matron a smile. “I’m Trish Muffet,” I said. “I’ve visited here before on FMA business.”

“Don’t care who you are,” she said. “After hours.”

Nicky leaned against the door frame, giving her his patented smile. “You won’t let us in for just a few minutes?” he drawled. “We promise not to cause any trouble. I’d consider it a personal favor.”

The matron seemed to cave a little. “I really shouldn’t. . . .”

He bent forward a little toward her. “Hang on—it’s Mrs. Reed, isn’t it? From Jane Eyre?”

She lifted a single brow. “What of it?”

He nodded. “I thought I recognized you. A woman of your impeccable breeding and stature—how did you end up being the matron of the Asylum?”

She straightened, obviously flattered by his notice. “It seems my lot in life to be forced to look after monsters,” she told him, smoothing the front of her dress, which was a far cry from the type of attire she’d been used to in her story.

“A great injustice,” Nicky said, shaking his head. “You were intended for a life of ease, not working in a place like this.”

“Exactly so.” She glared at us for a moment, then stepped back, opening the door wide. “I suppose I can let you in for a little while. Just don’t upset any of the inmates.”

“We only need to see one of them,” Nicky assured her. “Renfield.”

Her brows shot up. “That man is completely deranged. Why would you want to see him?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s classified,” I told her. “Just tell us where he is and we’ll find our way.”

“Third floor,” she spat, obviously not as impressed with me as she was with Nicky. “Cell forty-two.”

“Insufferable woman,” I muttered as we trudged up the stairs to the upper levels. “How dare she call the patients here monsters? Only some of them are completely beyond help. If anyone’s a monster it’s that detestable woman. The way she treated Jane Eyre . . . How could you possibly be polite to that harpy?”

“I’ve had to be polite to a lot of assholes over the years, doll,” Nicky said. “It makes my ass twitch every single time. But if you want to get anywhere, you sometimes have to dance with the devil.”

We were silent as we navigated the dim, clinically sparse halls of the Asylum. The dirty light cast by the bare bulbs spaced in even intervals along the ceiling cast dark shadows, creating corners that weren’t there and bathing the passageway in an eerie, murky glow. I edged a little closer to Nicky and he reached for my hand, clasping it tightly in his.

There were unintelligible mumblings floating toward us and beneath the static of voices I heard a woman keening in sorrow, another weeping, punctuating her grief with sharp yowls that made me start each time her mournful screech split the air.

Nicky’s fingers tightened around mine. “Here’s forty-two,” he said, jerking his chin toward the number hanging over a heavy steel door with a barred window.

I nodded. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Nicky blew out a sharp breath, then slid the blind to the left and peered through the bars. “Renfield.” There was a scrabble of movement inside but no response. “Renfield, we want to talk to you.”

We waited in tense silence, listening for any response. Suddenly a face appeared at the bars, making Nicky jump, which startled a little yelp out of me. I clutched at his arm, my heart racing.

The grimy face before us twisted into a grotesque smile, revealing filthy, rotting teeth. He chuckled, the sound as harsh as sandpaper. “Have come to visit me, have you?” he rasped. “Come to talk to the freak?”

“We need to know about Dracula,” Nicky said, cutting to the chase. “We need to know where he is, what he’s planning.”

Renfield chuckled again. “You won’t find the master,” he assured us. “Not until he wants to be found. And then he’ll find you.” He looked pointedly at me. “But you already know that, don’t you?”