Secret Worlds (233 page)

Vuur’s facial expression is totally aggressive-assertive—furrowed brow, tight lips, and teeth grinding a firm jaw. “I assure you, I never play games,” the shifter says. “In fact, Ms. … I don’t believe I got your name.”

Although I feel a need to dig deeper into this man’s nature, bad-boy flags are gesticulating with each sentence that comes out of his mouth. He reeks sexy and exudes death.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jane answers. “Ya think that might be because I didn’t give it to ya?” I jump in. “Um, sorry. It’s Jane.”

I believe we’re experiencing a dissociative identity crisis, Jane, I mentally shout. And Jane, sweetie, it comes off as—

So what! Maybe we’re bipolar. Maybe we’re skitzo—don’t matter—deal with it, Chickie. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, she mentally shouts back, and then glares at me in the mirror behind the bar before shooting snarky eyes at Vuur.

Crap, CeCe was a piece of cake. This host is wracking my nerves. Clearly, I’m having a hard time controlling her. I take a deep breath even though I do not need it. And calmly, I mentally say, Jane, hon, we need to work as a team, not...

Vuur clears his throat—we give him our undivided attention—and even I find that throaty growl a bit sexy … until he opens his mouth.

“I was sent to search for the wendigo. If you know where Gaire is, I suggest you enlighten me—immediately.” His eyes flash red and his nostrils flair. “I do not wish to … exsanguinate information from you.”

While my mouth, the one under Jane’s skin, hangs open, Jane takes over. “’Ey, wha’s-a-matta with you? You got wax build up in your ears or somethin’? Like we just spent the last … what...?” she stares at our reflection in the mirror behind the bottles lined against the back of the bar and waits. Eventually, not getting the answer she’s fishing for, she continues. “Uh, thirty minutes, give or take an hour, askin’ questions as to the whereabouts of this guy, Gaire, with like, what? Half the people in this slime-encrusted place? And after you ’can’t help but hear’ all that shit,” she says, making quotes with her fingers, “you get what? That we’re hiding something? Jeeze, man, find a Q-Tip!”

Vuur sucks in lungsful of air through his teeth.

“So sorry,” I sing. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I really do not want to see, up close and personal, just how he plans on sucking us dry or frying our asses.

Jane busts out with, “The hell?” I ignore her. “We do not know where the wendigo is, but I have unfinished—” I clear my throat and pick up a second of clarity, “—business with him, and—”

“Are you mentally infirmed?” Vuur asks politely.

“The fuck you say?” Jane reaches for the gun.

I pull our right hand back with our left as Greta, the troll, followed by the berserker I’d been speaking with earlier, and two shifters close in on Vuur.

“What are you?” Vuur steps toward us, eyes all Satan-lizard-like.

He leans in to run his nose up my collarbone to my ear. I can see his spine ripple in the mirror at his back.

Greta and the bouncer move swiftly, but Vuur’s head rears back and he shoots a spray of fire straight up that ignites a suspended bulb encased in a cream colored, plastic hood. All of that melts and spits sparks from the remaining wire until it cauterizes itself and swings loose above us.

Vuur turns his lizard eyes on me. “Unless you want to be properly introduced to my other half, a very large, very impressive dragon, and witness the complete destruction of this establishment, I suggest we walk out of here peacefully and continue this discussion in the sewers.”

I get up and head for the door, and the rest of the room takes a collective breath.

As we step out of Purgatory, a shadow darts by and disappears into darkness.

The undisturbed movement of sewage water passes by, and a soft scuffling of shoes echo from somewhere on the other side of the darkness. My eyes follow the sound, but I see no one.

“I’ve come to a conclusion,” Vuur says. His eyes roam Jane’s body.

My host is partially clad in street clothes from last night, the ones she’d worn when I doubled up on her in the hotel room: black leather skirt and boots, leather jacket gripped in one hand, and the other hand jerking toward Smith & Wesson. The skirt is too short, the boots have three inch heels and ride the back of Jane’s knees. We’re still wearing the camo shirt I bought, but it rests just under a black lace bra because she ripped the shirt in two after we arrived in the sewer, fifty yards from Purgatory. Then she tossed our new tennis shoes and jeans on a pile of trash behind the bar.

One side of Vuur’s mouth rolls with disdain. “It seems from the information I have gleaned, and the upheaval at Purgatory two nights ago, I believe the subsequent death of the berserker, Vicen DeLego, was entirely inspired by the wendigo’s need to protect you?”

I’m brazenly still under my host’s skin. I quietly watch while he pauses, one hand cupping his elbow, the other rubbing his jaw with thick fingers, eyes searching Jane’s. “And after listening to your account of the incident at the bar, I have ascertained a very personal connection between you and the wendigo half-breed.”

My mind freezes as Vuur slides a hand from his chin and points an index finger at me. “So … much to my dismay, and sorely uncomfortable dilemma, I’m afraid you will be joining me in my search for the shifter. I believe using you as bait an excellent option. However, getting rid of you, should you prove unworthy, would not cause me a great loss of sleep.”

We’re standing under a storm drain fifty feet from the entrance of Purgatory. I’m leaning against a ladder that could lead me out of Down Under and into the human world. As Vuur talks, I hang Jane’s leather jacket over one of the rungs on the ladder, and chew on the pros and cons of what might be a lucrative partnership. He can’t kill me. He doesn’t know that, but still, I don’t want to lose Jane either. He can destroy her, and since this handsome, albeit majorly controlling dragon, squeezes all that is street out of Jane, this is a likely outcome.

Don’t matter, my host whispers into my mind, He ain’t givin’ us a choice.

I look up at Vuur.

Well, crap. Vuur’s stance clearly indicates he isn’t looking for an answer. This just entices me to put him in his place, even if it means another trip to South Orange Blossom Trail to redouble up on Jane.

Jane is simmering to be let out. The old adage:
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer
, plays a mental mantra as she sings. And although I’m not particularly fond of paid assassins and I really don’t want to go anywhere with him, even if he could help me find Gaire, a voice skewers and toasts the cockles of my vacant chest cavity and makes the call for me.

“She is not going anywhere with you, dragon.”

I know the voice. It’s my mother. Boy, I hate calling her my mother. But it’s a title I’ve learned to accept. Only two more years; can’t wait. The elders require twenty-one years of supervision—kind of a probationary stretch—and it’s totally stupid. It’s not like I’m some fairy hatchling or wolf cub. Doppelgangers are a demon conjuring mistake, and our image in size and shape is the same from birth to eternity … or until extinguished by our own kind.

No otherworld creature has yet to kill a single one of us, not even the demon that mistakenly created us, only our own kind. And the Mother title? Well, it’s doubly stupid, since doppelgangers are neither male nor female. We are who we wear.

“Show yourself, and claim rights,” Vuur says, “or your ashes will be floating alongside the sewage you are standing behind.”

Vuur’s posture is all testosterone induced ego and sublime horror. I want to laugh at the assassin. You don’t get ashes from a cloud of smoke. I bet my mother is grinding her pointy little teeth.

“Unless you want me to show you what
we
are made of, I suggest you back away from my daughter.”

Okay, so now she totally pisses me off. I have a demanding urge to put this to bed before Mother steps out of the shadows and shows her ugly self. I don’t think the dragon has figured out my true identity, and I’d like to keep it that way.

“I assure you, no matter what you think you are—”

Vuur swallows the rest of his sentence when I tuck myself under his arm, circle my hand around his back, push a thumb through one of his belt loops, and lay my head against his shoulder.

I smile at the darkness I know is seasoned with Mother and cut Jane’s brazen mouth loose on her. “Lady, what part of me no longer being a minor do you not understand? I’m going with him. You can’t stop me. So slither back to whatever hole you slithered out of.”

I feel Vuur’s body tense. He stretches his head around and captures my eyes with his. “I must admit, your cantankerous side can be quite amusing. However, the next time I am engaging in battle, be it verbal or physical, I will expect you to know your place. When I need your assistance, I will ask for it. Until I do, do nothing. I do not condone insubordination. Do I make myself clear?”

“’Ey, you can condone out your ass, plead your case till your balls turn blue,” Jane crudely slips deep into Brooklyn, which seems to come out every time she’s challenged, or in this case stifled, “’cause I’m not buyin’ it.” She swings her right arm over her head with a fair share of attitude and a flash of C-cup, and flips back her blonde waves with the other. “I answer to no one ’cept Smith & Wesson. Youse guys wanna mix words with them, just ask. I’ll do some intro—”

I give her a mental stab.

Back off a bit, Jane. My mother is not threatened easily, and the guy is an ego junky. You can get more by stroking it instead of stoking it.

Jane shoves back. I don’t stroke nothin’ I don’t get paid for. Hell you say, ’stroke’; I wanna douse the blowhard with lighter fuel and pull out the Zippo. Get it? And your mom? Screw that, I haven’t listened to no mother since I was ten.

I start to tell her we should always err on the side of cordiality when talking to Down Under creatures, but I’m rudely interrupted.

From the shadows, Mom says, “Well, isn’t she someone else’s nightmare? Do as you wish, dear. I can’t stop you. Just remember … 
They
can.”

Her shadow moves. Barely discernible, it slithers toward the water running below us and disappears towards Purgatory. I immediately jump out of Vuur’s reach.

“’Ey, dog, get one thing straight.” Jane moves from the hood to the ghetto. “You may be as hot as two sewer rats gettin’ it on in grandma’s attic, but no one orders us to do nothin’ we don’t feel right doin’, sugar. We be droppin’ that shit like it’s right outta the dog’s ass.” She juts out her hip, works a little wiggle, and says, “Snap,” as she clicks her fingers and does a little head-roll thing. “Do I make
my
self clear?”

Vuur tilts his chin up, head cocked. “I’m not fond of that side of your temperament.”

“Well, then don’t drag it out, dog,” Jane blurts.

As fast as lightening, the shifter wraps his hand around Jane’s throat and slams us against the cement wall next to the ladder. Her head bounces off the cement as Vuur grabs the center of the camo shirt.

“I must ask you,” Vuur says, popping our head against the wall again, “not to refer to me—” He repeats the action with a bit more force. “—as a dog. Otherwise you will force me to—” I try to comment, but Jane’s voice only inaudibly squeaks as Vuur tightens his grip, flashes us lizard eyes, and then continues. “—show you exactly how hot that proverbial dog shit can be.”

“That all you got?” Jane squawks.

Vuur squeezes harder, and then lets up.

Jane swallows hard, and takes a breath we kind of need.

“I’m sorry,” I say hoarsely. “It seems the side of my personality that you are not fond of is quick to respond in the face of anger.”

“Then I suggest you not anger me, and in turn, I shall try not to hurt you again.” The dragon bows. “Lest there be nothing left to hurt if you continue.”

“Okay, sugar, stop puffin’ out like a blowfish, and I’ll try not to stoke the flames,” Jane says. “Unless it’s a sizzle we can both enjoy.”

I hope she doesn’t get herself killed; I really like this human.

When Vuur backs up, runs fingers through his tousled hair, and makes angry animal noises from deep within his throat, I try out Jane’s voice.

“’Ey, you got a car? We can hit Gaire’s lair. I know where that is.” I even work my hand with my hip.

Vuur says nothing until he pulls out two red wish tokens and bounces them in his hand. “Hopefully you have an address? Or are we planning on wading through the sewers?”

“204A West Burleigh Boulevard, in Tavares,” I recite over Jane’s snarl.

***

Twenty seconds later, we reappear under a sewer grate behind a strip of buildings next to the Rise and Shine, Gaire’s diner. More than a few minutes later, after having searched the perimeter … twice, we stand near the back door under the stairway that leads up to Gaire’s apartment. Vuur pulls another long metal B&E tool, a mirror-like thingy, from a leather pouch and slides it along the door frame.

After having passively followed Vuur around for a good fifteen minutes, I can feel Jane’s temper rising. She’s finally had enough. She huffs a silent sigh and pushes me around the side of the building and up to a small, single framed window about shoulder height.

As her eyes search the area below and around the window, I cerebrally open a discussion.

You’re not planning on breaking that window are you?

You wanna get in or what?

Still, what if there’s an alarm?
I mentally prod.

Jane spits a laugh.
I seriously doubt it.

Before I can object further, Jane shocks me when she tugs her shirt off, wraps it around her fist, pops the window, brushes glass off the ledge, puts her shirt back on, and then climbs in.

My head is spinning while Jane guides us through a storage room, moves us into the diner’s kitchen, and up to the door knob Vuur is jostling. We quietly and quickly turn the lock and yank the door open.

Vuur leers at us.

“Surely you did not break a window? Have you searched for an alarm system?” The dragon rushes by, seething at us over his shoulder while his eyes scan the walls. “This is exactly why I asked—politely, I might add—that you do not interfere, and only assist,” he hisses. “Did you give thought to what we might tell the local authorities when they arrive?”