Stone Chameleon (Ironhill Jinn #1) (3 page)

Amun, the cheeky bastard. I was an average looking woman who lived over an antique store, and he could have been the poster boy for Egyptian Gods ‘R’ Us. He owned three city blocks worth of office buildings I knew of, and I worked in the sewer half of the time. He and I existed in different worlds.

“Amun’s a persistent bastard, all right.” Harper chuckled and groaned from the back. “But you have to admit he is the hottest man, like, ever. It’s those dark eyes that make you believe he’s thinking all kinds of wicked things to do between the sheets. Aren’t you the least bit flattered he’s after you?”

“He’s not after me, not the way you mean,” I said too quickly, relieved when Simon poked his head out of the security booth and waved before pointing to the phone pressed against his ear. “He’s a businessman first, and he wants something, I can feel it. I just haven’t figured out what it is, and quite frankly, I have much larger issues at the moment.” They didn’t come much bigger than Isaac.

“Well, I say no woman could possibly say no to that tasty piece of pie. You are human, after all.”

I winced, glad to have her at my back. She’d asked about my origins in a hundred different ways over the years before she’d given up and taken me at my word. Each time the lie passed my lips, it chipped another sliver off of my heart. Her observance, though beneficial in our line of work, had made it hard to hide my secrets from her.

“I’m a woman with standards, Harper. Unlike you, I won’t crawl into bed with any man who offers, no matter how pretty his packaging might be, nor with one who dangles a Twinkie in my direction.”

“Hey, I have standards, they’re just different from yours. And if it’s
his
Twinkie he’s dangling in front of me, well…”

“Harper Fox!” Laugher burst out of me, harmonizing with her giggles until she took up moaning again. The memory of Dom’s worried gaze stole away the rest of my humor. “I feel like a wretch for leaving Dominic to deal with Gerry. He looked so frightened right before he shut us into the van.” And more, he appeared determined. I hoped he wasn’t planning to do anything stupid on my behalf.

“He talks about you like you’re an untouchable Amazon warrior, Lou. He’s scared for you because he doesn’t know you well enough yet to know he shouldn’t be.”

I squinted at that. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been in worse spots, and you’ve come away unscathed every time. This bullshit vamp thing will turn out the same.”

“What could be worse than Isaac thinking I’ve murdered five of his people?”

She chuckled. “I seem to recall a certain incident with a colony of spider rats in the basement of Bo’s Tavern last year.”

The creatures had bound our arms and legs with webbing as thick as repelling rope and hung us from the ceiling upside down and bleeding. Yes, I supposed that was more immediately dangerous, but the vampire murders frightened me more.

“Still don’t know how you got us out of that one with no hands free and no weapons, but you did, like you always do, like you always will. Why do you think I never get worried before we go out on a job?”

I’d called upon the earth that day, summoning stone shards to nick the webbing at my back where she couldn’t see. “I’m not infallible, Harper. Our fear keeps us alive, and you may need it one day when my luck runs out.”

“Never gonna happen.” Her voice faded.

I bit down on my retort when Simon, the lead guard on the day shift, left the brick building by the gate and bounded up to my rolled-down window.

“Sorry it took a minute, Lou,” he said. His salt-and-pepper hair stuck out in clumps beneath his blue guard’s hat. “Something’s got Blake’s bees all in a buzz.”

My eyebrow quirked up. “What about this time?”

“Not sure.” Simon’s bony shoulders jerked up and down. “He wants to double up the guards every shift, but didn’t tell me why.” His weathered hands clamped over the door frame. “If you don’t know what’s up, then I’m guessing the you-know-what is about to hit the fan big time?”

I groaned and retrieved my cell, pressing the speed dial for my boss.

It rang twice before Blake picked up, and his Texas drawl filled my ear. “Now, don’t go off on me.”

I flattened the stone in my free hand to dispel some of the fury from my voice. “Tell me you’re not responsible for sending the media swarm that ambushed us today.”

He sighed, never a good sign with Blake. “It’s good press. Business is booming because of the paparazzi, so yeah, I might’ve tipped them off to where you were at.”

“So now they have footage of my presence at yet another crime scene involving the hive. And besides that, we have more business than we can possibly handle. How much money do you need before it’s enough, Blake?”

“Christ. If I’da known there was another dang vamp down there, I’da kept my trap shut. It takes a lot of scratch to run the creature reservation, you know it does.”

“Don’t try to sell your greed as anything but what it is. Now, tell me why you’ve doubled the guard.”

There was a long pause before he muttered, “Gerry mighta called me. Why didn’t you stay at the damn scene, Lou? If Isaac comes here—”

“If Isaac comes after me with the power of the hive behind him, no amount of human guards, even if they were all armed with fae silver, will stop him. We’ve been over this before. If I survive the night, you and I will come to an understanding of how this business will operate in the future, or you can find yourself another pest control expert who has a degree and a decade of experience in preternatural creature management.”

Fae silver wasn’t silver at all, but a substance the people of the Underhill discovered that could seriously harm a vampire. When the undead had found something similar to hold against the fair folk, it created a strained peace between the two powerful races.

I hung up amidst a torrent of curses on the other end of the phone. “Would you kindly open the gate now, Simon? And a word to the wise—if the hive lord arrives on the premises, he’s to come to me unhindered, understood?”

Simon nodded, his smile revealing crooked teeth. “Sure thing, ma’am.” He trotted back to the guard house, and, a moment later, the gates trundled along their rollers as they receded into the stone walls on either side. The compound not only housed the headquarters for IPC, but also the facility containing the creatures that were too dangerous to be running loose, but not so dangerous they needed to be destroyed.

Not that the public knew what we had squirreled away beyond the main office tower. Oh, they knew preternatural creatures existed, worked alongside them, even dated them, but the majority preferred to pretend everyone was a harmless human. They certainly wouldn’t want an entire compound dedicated to containing dangerous ones so near the city. What they didn’t know I made sure didn’t hurt them.

W
hen the road forked, I took the right one and continued up to the three-story building made of black brick and mirrored windows. Large white letters announced Ironhill Pest Control across the top of the main client entrance. I drove around the side to the underground garage, punched in my security code at the pillar, and maneuvered down the ramp beneath the building.

Rachel, Dr. Courian’s resident nurse, waited with a gurney near the industrial sized elevator. A swath of translucent hair lay along the center of her head like a mane, the back secured with a polka-dot scrunchy. Her eyes of perpetually morphing shades of purple relayed her pleasant demeanor better than if she’d jumped up and down and waved with excitement.

The shorter than four-foot woman was the product of a union between Dr. Courian’s son and a mermaid, or so he’d told me. I didn’t know how much of what came out of the old kelpie’s mouth was true and what he made up to drive me mad with curiosity.

“Hello, Lou.” Rachel’s soft voice carried through the van window more like a song than simple words. Tiny pink elephants dotted her purple scrubs, a perfect match for the sweet girl. “How badly is Harper injured this time?”

I climbed out, followed the slender nurse around the van, and pulled the back doors open. “Broken bones, some lacerations, a goose egg on her forehead, but she seems to be breathing okay.”

Rachel hopped into the cargo bed and crouched down by Harper in an oddly frog-like move. Not for the first time, I wondered if she had flippers tucked into her white shoes instead of feet. Humming, Rachel stroked unusually long fingers over Harper’s hair in the way an adoring mother pets a child’s head after they wake from a nightmare. “I’ll take care of you now, it’s all right. Rest now, and be well.”

Harper’s breathing slowed, and her arms relaxed from where they’d clamped over her black tank top. Even I couldn’t resist the promise in Rachel’s words, noticing the tension slipping out from between my shoulder blades under her vocal spell. Perhaps her mother had been a siren instead of a regular mermaid. That, or some creature altogether different I hadn’t yet encountered. That would explain her ability to survive out of water when neither mermaids nor kelpies could, to my knowledge.

In a coordinated effort, Rachel and I lifted Harper and put her on the gurney without a single noise of discomfort from her. I wished I knew how Rachel did that. That particular skill would come in handy when talking down an irate banshee from the ceiling, or coaxing a grouchy elephant mole from a subway tunnel.

A short ride down in the elevator took us to the basement level that adjoined the reservation. The doors opened to a wide hallway painted a calming aqua shade. The wheels of the rolling bed clicked over the white tiles as Rachel guided it toward the double doors at the far end. I mirrored her on the other side, holding Harper’s small hand.

Through the doors, the room opened into a cavernous space lit with bright beacons in the ceiling. Most of the right side lay enclosed with thick glass. Within, the good doctor made his home in fresh water circulated by pumps humming on top of an enclosure large enough to house a few whales. To the left, the circular healing tank waited for Harper, with its teal water rising almost to the top of the twenty-foot cylinder. A network of wide tubes connected the two enclosures.

Dr. Courian poked his blue finned head above the surface of the healing tank and scowled down at Harper with saucer-sized black eyes. “What have yeh done now, eh? Look at the filth. Ach!” His thick Scottish brogue grew heavier with his disapproval. “Silly girlies, off doin’ the work of yer men. One of these days yeh’ll be comin’ home in a bag, and tha’ I canna fix.”

His spindly legs sported webbed toes at their ends, and navy oblong spots dotted his midriff. Bulbous red sacks bulged out of either side of his chest with his breaths, which he could also use to make bullfrog-like noises. For mating, I’d learned one day when he’d divulged far too much information about kelpie procreation activities to me. To see me blush, no doubt, which I had. Furiously.

I’d stopped trying to convince the doctor we no longer lived in a time when women were only cooks, cleaners, and child raisers and decided, instead, to ignore him. “Good evening, Doctor. I trust you’ll take care of her while I wash up?”

“Ach, bring her up, then.” He waved me off and dove under the surface. Grouchy old codger.

Rachel took the controls for the winch attached to the ceiling and lowered the harness, then we fastened the straps around Harper.

I brushed crimson hairs away from her forehead. “I’ll come back to check on you tomorrow.” At her smile and blink, I lowered my voice. “And please don’t get the doctor started in an argument. I don’t have the strength for a lengthy rant tomorrow after the one I’m no doubt going to receive from Isaac tonight.” Although I’d come to the conclusion Dr. Courian quite enjoyed arguing with anyone who would engage him.

Harper’s smirk let me know she’d most likely do the opposite of what I’d asked. Perhaps she enjoyed it as much as he did. A press of Rachel’s thumb drew the cable taut until it picked Harper off the gurney and lifted her to the ceiling. The cables whined as Rachel pressed another switch to position Harper above the tank, then lowered her inside.

Once Dr. Courian reached my wounded friend, he wrapped his hand around her nose and mouth and submerged with her. His methods allowed the injured to breathe the liquid he’d concocted inside the tank, like an infant in amniotic fluid, while his kelpie magic sped up the healing process tenfold. At least, that was his answer every time I asked. Given the laughter in his eyes, I assumed that wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe none of the truth, for all I knew of kelpie genetics and magic.

Everything I’d learned in college had been speculation. Apparently none of the kelpies were terribly forthcoming with details about themselves. Except, of course, when they wanted to get a rise out of a lady bold enough to ask questions.

Satisfied I’d left Harper in capable hands, I plodded on weary feet back the way I’d come. The elevator took me to the third floor. With the state of my clothing, I exited the back of the elevator instead of the front where a narrow corridor led me to the rear entrance of my office. On the small chance I failed to make Isaac see reason, I wanted to be in clean, comfortable clothes for reasons my voice of reason deemed silly, given my future if convicted. At least I’d look nice in my coffin, if anyone found my body.

My stomach lurched, but I shut down my thoughts before they sucked me into the awaiting darkness. Inside my white-tiled decontamination room, I unlatched the knife harnesses, stripped away the soiled jeans and shirt, turned on the shower until steam billowed into the room, and stepped inside.

Three rounds of vanilla-scented shampoo, one round of conditioner, and a generous scrubbing with anti-bacterial soap later, I turned off the water and toweled myself dry. Although I loved my job most days, I preferred to be clean. Nothing soothed away the aches of the day better than a long, hot shower or bath. Preferably a bath, but I’d failed to convince Blake to splurge that much. Most of the time I appreciated practicality over luxury, but when it came to my one indulgence, I’d invested a little more to install a whirlpool tub in my apartment.

After searching through the supply of clothing I’d stashed in the closet, I came out with a simple gray pencil skirt and a blouse in the same indigo-blue shade as my eyes and the wide strips that interrupted the otherwise pitch-black of my hair. I told anyone who asked that I dyed them in, being a fan of the color, but they occurred naturally. I didn’t know what my father looked like, but I surmised they must have come from his side of the gene pool, my mother being a stunning redhead.

My jinn father had been destroyed when the nations of all the realms deemed the elementals too powerful to exist and extinguished them in a war that lasted fifty days. Most of the fighting had taken place overseas, but the American jinn met their end in Philadelphia, along with the city itself.

According to my mother, he died three days before I was born, and had deserved his fate. No amount of asking discovered the reason she believed it so. If anyone protested the genocide, I found no record of it. As far as I knew, no records of the jinn survived to indicate who they were or why they’d been eradicated. Their culture, traditions, even the abilities they possessed, remained a mystery to me.

I’d lost my temper only once when I was small, causing enough devastation to scare myself into never doing it again. If my father was anything like me power-wise... I dispelled the thought. Perhaps it was best I didn’t know what the jinn had done to bring on their extinction.

After cleaning and oiling my blades—I wouldn’t be allowed weapons at the precinct despite a desperate urge to arm myself—I fingered some gel through my hair and dried it over a large round brush.

My fair skin needed no makeup; it remained blemish free without much work, one of my best features in my opinion. My lashes were dark enough I didn’t own mascara. I did, though, apply a little pink to my cheeks, and some gloss to my lips to make me appear less pale.

I studied my reflection, noting all the signs of stress and fear Isaac would no doubt attribute to guilt. The places under my eyes appeared bruised, and my jaw remained tense. Gripping the sides of the sink, I drew in a settling breath and allowed it to escape slowly. I was innocent, an indisputable truth I needed to cling to in the coming hours. My confidence would be my defense. My offer of help and my tentative friendship with the hive lord would be my offense.

In the end, justice would prevail. Despite being proven wrong on that belief in the past, I had faith now. I’d given up on the laws evolving on their own to keep up with our ever-changing demographics, so I’d taken matters into my own hands. If I failed this time, though, it meant my life.

“Then you’d best not have butter fingers, Baylou,” I said to my reflection, securing a string of pearls at my nape. It had been my name at birth. I still didn’t know why my mother had given me a known jinn name, given the war raging beyond the hospital room walls at the time. It had taken me a long time, a lot of money, and a warlock to erase that mistake.

Basking in a newfound calm and feeling better that I no longer looked like a drowned cat, nor smelled like a toilet, I slipped on a plain pair of black heels and opened the door to my office.

“You must be Miss Hudson?”

The man’s voice startled me badly enough my bones would have leaped free of my flesh had they not been so firmly attached. At first I decided it had to be Mr. Bassili, but a look at the slim man sparked no recognition.

“Who are you, and how did you get in here?” My sharp tone left no question about my degree of irritation.

His hand extended toward me. Short nails, hints of dirt in the knuckles, callouses galore. A working man’s hand. “Connor Lewiston. Your secretary said it’d be okay for me to wait in here for you because she had to leave.”

I glanced down at his hand, back to his casual expression and storm-cloud eyes, no more impressed with him than before. He was handsome, I supposed, in a simple sort of way.

“She did, did she?”

Gloria and I would be having a chat tomorrow.

Tired of leaving him hanging, I shook his rough hand, and then perched a hip on the edge of the desk, smoothing my palms along my skirt to keep it from rising. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lewiston?”

“Connor, please.” He tilted his head and squinted at me. “You’re not what I expected after reading so much about you in the papers.”

I sighed and propped my palm on the smooth wooden surface beneath me. “How so?”

Thoughts passed over his face before he spoke. “I guess I expected you to be a little less lady and a lot more, I don’t know, leather and blades.”

“Just because I look and dress like a lady doesn’t mean I’m not capable, Mr.— Connor.”

“Of course not. No insult intended.”

“Your smirk would suggest otherwise.”

His lips flattened, and he played his hands along the green tie secured at his neck. His short haircut stood up as if his fingers had made several passes through the copper-brown tresses. He didn’t seem suited to formal attire. Those rough hands and his fidgeting suggested he’d have been more comfortable wearing coveralls and spending his days beneath machines.

When he didn’t speak, I circled my hand. “You were saying? I’m rather short on time at the moment.”