Magic Rising (13 page)

Deirdre found a pen on the little table next to his office or what he called his workroom. It was nothing more than a basement entrance in his apartment. She always came in the basement then beat on the secondary door before entering simply because Tech couldn’t hear her from the outer one. Not that it mattered. She was ready to fire the little prick.

She wrote hastily.

My mother never tried to kill me. Do unauthorized checks on me again and you won’t have any equipment to fuck your girlfriend.

The last words were badly scrawled on the paper bag holding the food. It was more than the thin paper. Her hands shook, something that never happened, couldn’t happen. Every paranoid delusion she ever had was coming true and this felt too close to madness. Niam lived, Farmer was after her, and an employee tried to find her secrets. Through all this, that damn Shope case kept popping into her head and she couldn’t keep it out.

What if Niam tracked her here?

She shook her head, trying to keep the terror out of her. There was no need to fear him. She was a woman, not some scared kid he could bully. She doubted he had the resources to find her now.

Deirdre closed her eyes and tried to find her anger, letting it fill her, wash through her because only then could she touch her center and regain balance. As she did this, Sabrine cried out in contentment.

Interrupting such a sweet interlude was rude, but Deirdre felt rude. She balled her fist and beat three times on the door before turning and retreating through the basement entrance. Seeing Tech in her current mood was dangerous, at least for him.

She got back inside her car and pulled away about the time the basement door opened. She saw Tech, half dressed, in her rearview mirror. He would find the food and her message. Hopefully the brilliant Tech would realize when an apology was in order and his need for discretion in the future.

The drive home went faster than she expected. She ran two red lights before her nerves calmed enough for her foot to ease off the gas pedal. For a woman who’d spent her entire life learning control, she was doing miserably at it tonight.

Deirdre pulled into her driveway, happy to see her little home, even if it were so close to everyone else’s. Her cell phone rang, and she jumped. Again Smythe was on the display. Good old Smythe, who she couldn’t date or have anything in common. Other women were content with family or thoughts of climbing some career ladder. All she wanted was to put her demons to rest. Unfortunately, no matter how many people she helped, how many lives she saved, the demons still haunted her.

“Hi, Noah.” She tried to sound casual, which in the history of conversation had never really been faked with any success.

“I’ve been thinking about you, but you never return my calls.”

She laughed. Her mother was dead in the bedroom that she escaped at sixteen. A madman finally found out that she survived the fire. Detective Ryan Farmer was giving her hell, not to mention some little girl whose life might be in danger and all Noah Smythe wanted was her.

“Why do you call me? I just don’t get it. You’re a handsome guy. Get yourself a normal lady.”

“Was our date that bad?” He tried to sound jovial. “I swear I’ll do better the next time. How about Friday?”

She wished she could accept. It might be nice to lose herself in his arms. It had been years since she felt companionship, much less let a man make love to her. None of those things could happen with Noah. She had to face the facts. Noah was too good for her.

“I would like us to be friends but nothing else. I just can’t do anything else. Please try to understand, Noah.” She ended the call.
I don’t think someone like me can have love. I’m certainly not entitled to it.

Wearily, she opened the car door and climbed out. She needed a shower. That smoke scent clung to her hair, her clothes. Maybe she would throw those away. She never wanted to smell that scent again.

With car keys in hand, she approached her front door. She put the key in the lock when a car swung into the drive, parking behind her vehicle. The perfect end to a shitty day got out of his detective’s car, the King Shit in person, Farmer.

“So you finally got home.” Farmer got out and didn’t bother closing his car door, only walked up to her as if fearing she would run inside and not talk to him. “Did you finally decide to talk to me?”

“Farmer.” All the anger swelled in her. She wanted to punish this asshole for digging in her past, for making her see Niam again. She wanted him to hurt for the way she had found her mother’s body. “Perfect timing. Please come inside.”

He looked tired and she wondered how long he had waited, watching for her to return home. It had to be a long time. His head was sweaty and he looked stiff. His shirt was unbuttoned a little too far and his pants were wrinkled.

Farmer looked at her, hesitated while she held the door opened. She smelled the fear on him. He enjoyed challenging her, but she always believed that he wanted her to back down from him. He just wasn’t sure what it would take to make her flinch.

“Surely you’re not afraid to come inside.” She offered her brightest smile, warm and cheerful while she felt evil to her core. Maybe some days it was good to feed her dark side. “Come in, Ryan. Let’s talk. There’s nothing to fear.”

“Of course not.” He stepped into her home. “We need to talk. I think you should consider doing business in some other town.”

She shut the door behind him and locked it. The room filled with darkness, blocking her expression from his sight. She didn’t turn on the light, only stood listening to him breathe.

“Why did you lock the door?”

Deirdre laughed. She couldn’t help it. The day had been hell and the man who’d caused it delivered himself to her door. “I didn’t want anything to disturb us, Ryan. You wouldn’t want to be disturbed, would you? I certainly would like some time alone with you.”

* * * *

Tech ran outside in time to see Deirdre driving down the street. On the way back in, he found the food and the note that she left behind for him. She must’ve overheard them talking about her. His stomach knotted up, causing him physical pain, and he knew he would have to find a way to make this up to his boss.

Sabrine dressed after Deirdre’s interruption. They were finished anyway. After reading the note and seeing Deirdre’s car, Tech couldn’t get it up again if his life depended on it.

“Eat something. It’ll make you feel better.” Sabrine bit into an egg roll, keeping one end wrapped in a napkin.

“You don’t seem concerned over this. Aren’t you afraid she’ll make your boyfriend a eunuch?” He looked down at his crotch as if it were a distinct possibility.

“She’s pissed. Go to her house tonight and make your apologies. Tell her what you found out about Lora and Tamara. She’s more bark than bite when it comes to an employee screwing up.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. Sabrine was right. Deirdre must’ve been more hurt than angry or she would’ve kicked the door down and hauled him bare assed into the street. That didn’t make him feel any better. Deirdre was tough, not some vulnerable chick who needed a shoulder to cry on. Hurting her made him a true asshole because under all the huffing and growling, she’d always been good to him.

“Damn. I don’t want to go there tonight.”

“It will only get worse the longer you let this fester.”

Tech slumped back into the chair in front of the computer. The food smelled great but he couldn’t eat. He was afraid to face Deirdre and afraid not to. From what he could gather, she was raised in some screwed up camp where they taught kids how to kill. There wasn’t an easy way to talk to someone like that.

“It has to be tonight?”

“Yes.” Sabrine finished her egg roll and reached for a wonton. “Do it.”

* * * *

“So tell me, what do you want to talk about?”

Ryan Farmer felt his heart race. He didn’t like this. The room was too dark and Deirdre didn’t seem the least bit phased by his presence. This wasn’t the time to panic, though. He had to take control of this situation. He reached along the wall and turned on the light, hoping to shatter the sense of doom that had entered him from the moment he’d seen Deirdre face to face.

“Can we go in and sit down?” He spoke from the foyer, happy to have the little light bulb glowing above from its ornate globe. “I’ve had a long day.” It had been incredibly long, waiting for this witch to get home. He’d dozed off at some point, then woken to her pulling into the driveway. His back might never recover from sleeping in those stiff seats.

“Go right inside. Straight ahead.” Her words were low, menacing.

He walked into a living room. A large television armoire sat against one wall with two small couches facing it. A heavy coffee table sat in the middle of the room. There were no pictures, only decorations that left no strong personal touch on the place with the exception of two art prints. One held the likeness of a dragonfly, done in pastels, hanging next to a print of a scorpion, in grays.

“I want to talk about Stone House.” It seemed a good time to get the conversation rolling. This wasn’t a social call.

She sat down on the opposite couch, legs crossed tightly but he was certain she could launch herself in a heartbeat and have him kissing carpet before he had a chance to draw a weapon. To look at her, she should be meek, mild, and weak. He knew better, she was a monster, a very beautiful monster.

“Any stone house or did you have one particular stone house in mind? Are you looking to build?” She smiled, looking demure. “I’m not sure why you’d want to talk to me about it.”

Playing dumb didn’t suit Deirdre. Even the way she tried to look all wide-eyed and innocent didn’t work. It didn’t fit her face, one that he watched so many times staring down at what she called a target. What in the hell kind of terminology was that? It made a person sound like something sitting on one end of a firing range.

“I’m talking about where you grew up, the people you were involved with, and the fire that destroyed the building.” He stared into her eyes and the coldness there shook him.

“Oh, you mean the private school I attended. My, that’s ancient history. It was called the Stone House School. Very prestigious in its day. There was a terrible fire though. I’m afraid you would be too old to attend now, anyway.” She finished with a soft smile but her eyes exposed her hatred.

He had to establish dominance now. This was his only chance to shake her, to shame her out of this town and his district. With adrenaline pumping and fear filling his mouth like some sick poison he couldn’t expel, he leaned forward, coming too close to his personal demon.

“Don’t play stupid you little bitch. I found a diary belonging to some guy named Blood and an attendance log from someone calling themselves Keeper. There were a few scheduled activities between you and someone named Midnight. You went there, you competed in martial arts competitions until the age of sixteen. I have the proof of the things Blood said about you. He even made note that one day he believed you’d kill him. Now I need to know if you did it. Did you burn the place?”

Ryan expected her to be upset, maybe cry, at least that’s what he wished for. Deirdre wouldn’t be so easily disturbed. Her eyes narrowed, jaw tightened, like he’d just issued a challenge instead of dragging her secrets into the light. Perhaps that was a front and deep inside she was petrified. He silently wished for a small sign of her inner fear.

“Tell me Farmer, what do you want from me?”

He stood up, leaned over her. He had her now. Deirdre was going on the defensive. She would get out of town and never bother him or his department or anyone in it again. A few more buttons and poof, she would disappear like some mystical creature of the night.

“I want you out of this town. I don’t want to see your face here again. You disgust me. There’s no room here for vigilante justice. You’re dangerous to the people of this town, a hazard to the department, and a pain in my ass.”

Ryan looked into those eyes again, expecting to see tears and hoping he might get to see her beg. Not a tear appeared in the brown eyes though. The whites were clear and her eyes darkened. His only warning was the maniacal smile that appeared on her lips.

There was movement, he was certain of only a blur before pain exploded on the side of his head and he went falling, legs knocked out from under him, and his groin hurt to the point of making him ready to vomit. She hit him, hurt him, but he hadn’t seen her move until he was on his back on her carpet.

Can anyone really be that fast?

“Listen you worm. I saw someone die today, attached to his front door. I also faced the only man to give me nightmares because of this shit with you.” She brought her knees on top of his arms, straddling him, while her forearm pressed against his throat. “I was trained as a killer. I’ve seen people die and many of those went voluntarily like animals to a slaughter house. Whether you want to believe it or not, I’m one of the good guys. I’ve been tortured, I’ve seen people I care about die, and I believe I looked Satan in the eye a few times. After everything I’ve been through, do you really think some slug, some half-assed cop is going to frighten me? So what if you know where I learned my craft. I have a home here, the only home I’ve ever known. If you think you can bully me, try something else because I’m not backing down and I’m sure as hell not leaving. My clients won’t care where I learned my skills as long as I can help them in ways you and your department have proved to be inefficient.”