Department 57: Bloody Crystal (11 page)

She glared at him. “Of course.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

Yes, she was. The day after she’d accepted the keys to his house, Rhodri hadn’t come to collect her after work. Neither did she find a note when she returned. No e-mail, no text on her phone. Not even a tweet. Nothing. She knew he’d have to leave; he’d warned her. But she hadn’t known how much she’d miss him, how his absence left a space nobody else could fill. And how the lack of any contact, not even a “have to go, sorry” note, would hurt her.

He’d asked her to trust him, but surely he’d have had time to leave her
something
?

At first she’d expected him back soon, but the days merged into a week, then another, and he didn’t reappear or send a message. So that was where she fitted into his life. She’d have to accept the fact, or dump him. An occasional, fun lover.

And here she was, pulling pints, fending off amorous customers. Same old, same old.

But it had hurt too much to live in the house. She’d closed it up and moved back into her flat. Without a car, she’d had to do it bit by bit. Either that or get Dave to drive her, and she didn’t want to do that. He was already trying to console her, and she didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her.

Rhodri didn’t owe her anything, and he’d made her life brighter for the three weeks he’d been in it. That was what she told herself. She’d cried. At the end of the first week, when it was as if he’d never been there, she cried. But she never told anyone, and after that, she determined to put it behind her. Nobody would know except her and her pillow. And that bit of memory foam wasn’t about to talk.

She’d bought books, rented videos, but nothing held her imagination that first week. The next week, she began to listen to melancholy music. Then she decided she was out of it. So he’d gone. So what?

All the stages of mourning, she realized as she carefully pulled another pint. Back to being a mortal, as far as anyone was concerned, locking her Talent away as her parents had taught her.

She glanced up to see a remarkable man standing in front of her, waiting for his turn. Oh, silly her, he wasn’t waiting at all. The other customers in her section of the bar seemed to melt away, even though this was a busy night of the week and they were usually waiting three deep.

But this man was in a class of his own—long, silvery blond hair caught back behind his head, penetrating, light blue eyes, and a height that would banish all but the most intrepid antagonist. And yes, the word
antagonist
came to mind.

He stared at her, the merest twitch of one eyebrow indicating he wanted her attention. Commanding and arrogant, he should have repulsed her. But he fascinated her. The next moment she had an inkling as to why. He blinked and at the same time unveiled two sigils in his mind, sending them directly to her so she couldn’t miss them. This man was a Talent. More she wouldn’t admit right now. Rhodri had told her to compare the sigils carefully before she let anything slip. “Can I help you, sir?”

“A small scotch, please.”

“Single malt or blend?”

“Glenmorangie. On ice.”

She went to fill his order, giving herself a chance to compare the sigils. She didn’t have to concentrate on getting the scotch from the optics, so she took her time.

Color, shape, everything matched. Even the small shadow at the bottom of one. Okay, so he was legit.
“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

She still wanted to be sure.
“In public. Here.”

“Very well. I have a friend with me, a woman.”
“Could you make that two, please? I’ll be at the table in the corner.”

She glanced around to see him heading for the table with a blonde. From the back, she noted that the blonde was tall, her hair smoothly brushed into a French pleat, not a hair out of place. She walked with a confident sway that spoke of finishing schools and exclusivity. Instinctively Cerys didn’t like her, though in truth she was perhaps jealous. A Talent usually got that kind of treatment, not the upbringing she’d had, although her parents loved her.

“Want me to take the order?” Dave asked her quietly so no one else would hear.

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. They’re okay—just a bit stuck-up.”

Dave glanced at the silver-haired dude. “He’s a big one.”

“He wouldn’t waste himself on me.”

Dave laughed. “You’re probably right. Okay, but I’ll keep an eye on you.”

She took the drinks over. The silver-haired guy pushed out a spare chair. “Sit.”

“I can’t. I’m working.”

He nodded. “Very well. We need to speak to you about Rhodri Tryfanwy.”

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected that. After all, why else would a couple of Department operatives turn up and seek her out? But hearing that quiet, cultured voice articulate his name startled her. To hear it outside her own imagination, as if she hadn’t conjured him up. “Do you know him?”

“We’re friends. I’m Kai Murdoch, and this is Esti Hart.”

She knew those names.
“Are you here for the security check?”

The woman spoke straight into her mind, her voice light, but it sounded like shattering ice.
“We’re here to find out how well you know him. Rhodri Tryfanwy has disappeared.”

She went through the rest of her shift in a daze. They couldn’t say too much, but she arranged to meet them at the Excalibur later. They left shortly after, and both drank their whiskies. So that meant they weren’t vampires. She didn’t have enough experience to tell what kind of Talents they were, but powerful would describe them perfectly. Strangely she didn’t feel any danger from them toward her, although she felt plenty of menace. Just not directed to her.

“Glad they’re gone,” Dave commented after they left. “Gave me the willies, those two.”

“They left a nice tip.” They’d left her a five-pound note. Not bad for a few minutes’ work. She put it in the jar, although she knew some of the other staff kept the bigger tips for themselves. If they got caught, Dave showed them the door, but they rarely got caught. On a Saturday night, drunks would leave stupidly big tips. But this wasn’t a Saturday night. It wasn’t even a Friday night, another good night, and they weren’t drunk. They were relatively sober.

At closing time, after they’d cleared the glasses, stacked the machines, and replenished the optics, Dave mentioned it again. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”

Cerys was so startled she almost dropped the pint glass in her hand. Dave hadn’t asked her that in a long time, since he’d seen her dispatch a drunk from the bar on her own. She’d used her usual explanation, about practicing her martial arts, and prayed Dave didn’t know any. Otherwise he’d guess that her “martial arts” moves were pretty basic, used only to cover her real strength. “I’ll be fine. I’m walking along the front. It’s well lit, and I never take any diversions at this time of night. It’s not far. But thanks,” she remembered to say.

Dave shrugged. “I just didn’t like the look of those two jokers earlier. Take care, will you? And keep your hand on your phone.”

She grinned. “Sure. I promise.”

She had to look behind a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t following her. Passing her flat, she continued to the Excalibur. Its cream exterior, with white columns and window trims, only enhanced its similarity to a giant wedding cake.

Inside, the lobby was old-fashioned, gleaming mahogany and brass, with neatly uniformed staff waiting behind the desk and around the entrance. She hadn’t noticed the usual porter outside, uniformed as some kind of valet or footman, but perhaps he didn’t work this late. She wondered if the Talents did, as it was two a.m. now. She’d had to ring a bell to be allowed in, but maybe a small blonde woman didn’t look like a threat. Small blonde women could still carry big guns under their jackets. It just showed how quaintly old-fashioned Llandudno was.

She murmured to the woman behind the desk, who called up and then said, “You can go up,” although she gave Cerys a glare that said she’d better not be on call. Llandudno wasn’t
that
far behind the times that a receptionist wouldn’t suspect a woman on call.

A man stopped her before she got into the elevators. “Excuse me, madam. Do you have any identification?”

She had her driving license, but the implication angered her. Instead of reaching inside her pocket, she decided to do it the easy way. She opened her mind enough to project gentle persuasion into the man’s mind.
“Let me go. I’m fine.”

But it never reached the guard. She found her thought bounced back to her with a strength that temporarily stunned her. Instead the doors to the elevator opened and a man stepped out. Kai. Immediately he enveloped Cerys in a giant bear hug. “How lovely to see you, cousin!” and at the same time,
“Play along.”

“You did that? Sent my thought back?”

“Esti did it.”

“Kai, it’s been a long time,” she said obediently.
“Why won’t you let me project?”
He gave her the answer almost before she’d asked him.

“It could be dangerous. Talent to Talent won’t leave a ripple. Sending a persuasion will send a jolt of power that any other Talent could pick up.”
“Come upstairs; we’re dying to catch up. Sorry your boss makes you work so late. Don’t you get tired of it?”

She didn’t have to answer because the elevator doors had closed. Instead she turned on him. “What’s all this about?”

“Wait,
mignonne
. We’ve secured the suite.”

Typical. They had a suite. Good job in being circumspect. Appearing looking stunningly unforgettable, and then booking a suite.

“Security is more important than circumspection at this stage.”

“Can you hear what I’m thinking? I thought I did a good job at hiding.” She’d hidden her Talent all her life. How could he penetrate so easily?

“Esti is an exceptional Talent. She’s a Sorcerer, one of the strongest we have.” He glanced at the screen and tapped his foot. “How long does it take to ride seven floors?”

Her mind reeled. “A Sorcerer?”

He turned to her, frowning. “A mistress of the psi Talents. She can move heavy objects, project into minds. Her telepathy can travel for miles. Since Rhodri evidently gave you our sigils, I assumed he told you about us. Otherwise you wouldn’t have accepted us so readily, I hope.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But he just gave me your names, not your Talent. A Sorcerer? You make her sound like a pier act.” She bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

But to her surprise, he cracked a smile. “Now that is an image worth treasuring.”

The doors opened, and he put a hand to the small of her back to usher her out. She felt no thrill, not like Rhodri’s touch had always given her. The door opened just before they reached it, and they went inside.

A comfortable suite greeted her eyes, with brocade-upholstered sofas, a flickering fire effect in the grate, a dining table even. The woman, Esti, sat on one of the sofas, a laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. Cerys sat on the sofa opposite, and Kai sat next to her, but at the other end, not touching her. She felt a warm pressure in her mind.

Esti wanted ingress. “If you resist,” she said, “it will hurt.”

“Esti, please. Let the woman tell us herself. Do you have to go for the jugular all the time?”

Cerys flinched. The metaphor was unfortunately apt. “You know what I am?”

“A vampire,” Esti said. The pressure disappeared, but Esti didn’t. Somehow she knew that if the Sorcerer wanted to monitor her unobserved, she could. But this was a courtesy, she guessed. “She’s what Rhodri said she was.”

Kai gave a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, in a way. It means she had nothing to do with his disappearance, and we have a longer job ahead of us. My wife and my husband will have to manage without me for a while. At least Tyler can look after Zoe properly. That’s one worry I don’t have.” He got to his feet and crossed to the bar. “Can I offer you a drink, Cerys?”

“Hello, vampire?” She rarely drank while she was working, and then usually made it something long and cold, but this was way after sundown. She hadn’t drunk tonight. She needed all her wits about her. Wife? Husband? How the fuck did that work?

Kai grinned and shrugged. “Sorry.” He fixed a soft drink for himself, poured in a tall glass with lots of ice. Esti refused the refreshment with a small shake of her head. “We’re working on the same assignment as Rhodri. Did he tell you much about it?”

“Only that he was chasing someone who’d done a lot of harm to the Talented community, and he wanted to settle that first.”

Kai crooked a brow. They were light brown, darker than his amazing silver hair. It didn’t look age-related or dyed, and it rippled all the way down his back to touch the top of his backside. “First?”

She swallowed. “He said he was coming back, but he left without a word. Didn’t leave a note, even. I thought he’d had second thoughts or something, because he hasn’t been in touch since.” She tried not to look needy, although she felt it. “He said my anonymity was my best protection.”

Kai and Esti exchanged a glance. “I think we might have compromised that,” Kai said. “I’m sorry. We’ll check before we leave, do our best to minimize it.”

“The staff downstairs—”

“I’ll take care of them.” Esti dismissed them with a wave of one perfectly manicured hand. “They won’t remember your visit. We need to know as much as we can because Rhodri has disappeared. Gone off the face of the earth, it seems. We need to find him.”

Cerys caught her breath. She should have believed his promises, should have tried harder to find him, should have contacted someone. “He spoke to his boss.”

“Will Grady. Yes, we know about that.” Kai crossed his legs. He wore jeans, and she’d bet they were designer. They fit him perfectly, outlining every muscle of his long legs. “That’s one reason we’re here. Grady tried to contact him and found his mobile phone wasn’t working. Then he asked Esti here to trace him. She can’t find him.” He drew a deep breath and let it out in another sigh. “We think someone took him.”

“Took him where?”

“Kidnapped him. Captured him.”