The Dream Crafter (12 page)

They made their way to the back of the club to the door marked
Private – Employees Only
. Merc stepped through without hesitation, and with a hand at her elbow, made sure she followed.

The suite of offices looked similar to what she’d seen at the club when she met with Fallon and Laire – utilitarian, but with comfortable furnishings and the occasional pretty piece of artwork to view. As they made their way down the main hall, a tall, rangy man stepped into their path. “Merc my man, didn’t know it was you we were expecting.”

“Didn’t have time to call,” Merc responded. Though the words were pleasant and spoke to at least a past acquaintance, the undertow of tension was palpable, and Amana stepped behind Merc, out of the possible line of fire.

She must have been too obvious in her nervousness because the man smiled at her, giving a small flip of his hands suggestive of the
don’t shoot
move. “Don’t worry, little lady. Bossman said to escort our guest, so I’m not kicking y’all out.”

“Always dreaming high, Whisper. That’s what I like about you.” But Merc relaxed the smallest bit, which meant Amana could untense those muscles that had gone into flight mode.

Whisper led them into a waiting room, and his hand once again on her elbow, Merc sat her in a chair. A slither of heat sprung from his hand to wind its way down her body and around her waist.
What the…?
“Stay here,” Merc commanded, then followed the brunet man into another room.

Amana tried to stand, but sure enough, she was held fast. Another bit of magic then. She was going to discover every single thing those tattoos were capable of, including if she could somehow strangle him with his own magic.

She closed her eyes, the boredom of waiting settling down on her as the minutes passed, wishing she could fall asleep on command. It would be a handy skill to have right now, but since she’d spent the last ten years avoiding sleep to the point she dealt with insomnia on a recurring basis, it was probably too much to hope for now.

The lights dimmed, and a man appeared. “Amana?” She jerked back, but he held out a hand. “The Guild sent me. They’ve been looking for you. I’m here to set you free.”

*

Whisper didn’t talk
as they would their way through the back rooms, which was fine with Merc. They weren’t exactly friends. More like occasional comrades who wouldn’t try to kill each other outside of the job. It worked for them.

When they arrived at the final door, Whisper gave two quick raps with his knuckles before opening it and motioning Merc to go first. Though letting anyone at his back was foreign, in this case he didn’t have any choice. He needed this meeting.

Rhaum sat behind the impressive wooden monster of a desk. It should have overwhelmed the little person, made him smaller next to it, but as always Rhaum’s height had no influence on the powerful presence the man projected, and the desk, which should have made him look ridiculous, instead became another item that was his right and proper due.

“You’re too hot to be coming here right now, Merc.” That was Rhaum, straight to the point and not caring if you wanted to hear it or not. Whisper was still at his back, and Merc began the various calculations he would need if his leaving needed to happen under less than happy circumstances. “The Guild has put out a price on you and your companion. Do you know how many are now interested, those pieces of shit who otherwise would look right past you? The girl is
double
the normal bounty. Even if it wasn’t damn good money, if the Guild finds out anyone helped you knowing you were in their sights, they’re going to take it personally. Hells, I should grab you both.”

Funny how Rhaum said it like it wasn’t a possibility, which they both knew it was. Rhaum wasn’t neutral. He worked with all parties, but his only loyalty was to himself. If it was in his best interest, he’d betray someone he’d worked with hundreds of times before. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try.”

“As your compatriot insisted on this meeting, I’m willing to help. It would go a long way toward keeping our relationship in good standing for a little acknowledgement on how much I’m risking here. Say, if you’re not dead by the end of it, I might have a job you could help me with.” And Rhaum held out his hand.

As usual, Rhaum could read any situation perfectly. The handshake would make a magical contract, and Merc wasn’t in any position to negotiate. “I’m happy to do any job that doesn’t conflict with my own feeling of right or wrong.” It was as good as he could do under the Sword of Damocles swinging over his head, but at least it was something.

Rhaum gave a half-smile and took the hand, completing the contract. “Then glad I can be here for you.”

As he withdrew his hand, Merc suppressed the half-fanciful urge to check for the snakebite. It was how all his interactions with Rhaum ended, with the bone deep assurance he’d been marked and somehow poisoned, and not knowing where the antidote was. In this case, though, there had been no choice.

“Now you can’t say we don’t appreciate the help, Rhaum darlin’. We’re thankful we can always count on you.” The female voice came from the corner, and within moments the woman who spoke popped out from the shadows. She crossed the room, all five-ten of easy swagger and commanding presence, her coarse, dark hair in a no fuss ponytail and those near-black eyes bright as they latched onto him. “Been too long, Merc. I’m gonna get a complex if the only time you call me is for help, though.”

“Nemesis.” He clasped her forearm, the greeting second-nature to him after all these years, as was the smile she brought to his face. “Looking a little tired there. Am I keeping you out too late now that you’re an old lady?”

“More like I let you drag me away from an interesting situation, so be grateful for my kindness and mercy.” Her response was easy and playful, and a bit of weight shifted from his shoulders at the familiar camaraderie. She turned to Rhaum and clicked her tongue, motioning with her head towards the door. “Now that you and Merc are square, do you think you could give us a few to catch up in private?”

Rhaum pushed back, a nod of acknowledgement towards Nemesis and pure irritation directed towards Merc. In moments they were alone, and Nemesis backed away to press a small black button against the wall. “Safe to talk now. Not to say I don’t trust Rhaum, but I don’t trust Rhaum.”

“You look good.”

“You look like shit,” she came back with, but that generous mouth with its very full lips was curved upward, and nothing about her body language told she was nervous about meeting with a wanted man. “Understandable. Fallon’s gunnin’ for you. I might even break a sweat under those circumstances.”

“Fallon’s the least of my worries. I got lots of people gunning for me.”

Nemesis leveled a lazy, humoring look in his direction. “I don’t care if you got every necromancer across the Realms on your tail, Fallon will never be the least of anyone’s worries, and after your little trick, you’ve made it personal with her.” Now Nemesis brightened, and she sent him a wink before starting to meander around the room, looking at this and that. “Impressive, by the way. I haven’t heard anyone getting the drop on her in a long time.”

“Her own fault. She got lazy.” That was what he saw, at that café. Fallon standing there cocksure and queen of all, and a scared, disillusioned woman clutching her bag and defiant even as she saw everything crumbling around her.
Pissed him off.
“She got
cocky
, and she got what she deserved.”

Nemesis came before a painting that looked like the artist threw brushes at the canvas and sold the end result. Turning her head in his direction, she pointed at it with furrowed brows, her face all comical disbelief. “This went for a lot of money, didn’t it?” Merc only got out a huff of impatience before her smile came back, her hands coming up again,
sorry sorry
. “No doubt. Doesn’t change the fact it’s now not Guild business to her.”

“And your people?”

Now she was standing in front of a more classical painting, where you actually saw that the person was a person. “If they were interested, we wouldn’t be having this oh-so-lovely get together. The Seven Houses feels this matter is beneath them. The Guild is on their own.”

One small bit of good news in an otherwise crappy time. “That mean you’re going to help me?”

Playfulness fled from her face for one long moment. He was used to Nemesis’s heavy-lidded gaze, the blank eyes all the scarier for the complete
absence
of anything. Used to it, but sure as hells didn’t like it. Then she blinked, and life came back. “Any chance to remind Fallon of a screw-up should be taken, so sure, I’m in. What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve heard Hadrien has gone to ground – Shisen.”

“You’ve talked to him? Is he helping?”

“I’ve given him an interesting problem. He’ll search out the answer, but what good it will do me remains to be seen.” Since Nemesis was as familiar with Shisen’s methods of help as he was, no further explanation was needed, and her nod confirmed this. “I need Hadrien. He can’t fall into the Guild’s hands.”

Speculation was stamped onto her features, but Merc said no more. Yeah, no doubt she knew he needed Hadrien because of a bound, but knowing and confirming were two different things, and they both had drilled into them that you never,
ever
confirmed. As if reading his mind, she didn’t ask, didn’t wait for any further explanations, but said, “I’ll do what I can.” The business part was over, and Nemesis seemed to sense this, because now her eyes lit up with an unholy gleam. “Do I get to meet your guest now? Very curious to see what the little girl that has you actin’ all sorts of ways is like.”

All those years of hard training were worth it, because it meant he didn’t blush like a schoolboy under that almost manic grin. “I’ll save introductions for later, when this has passed.”

“Is she cute? I mean, I might be willing to take her off your hands…”

“Stop.” Merc walked over and cuffed her around the back of her neck, the move familiar between the two of them, but even with that history, there was that split-second of tension, of muscles poised to jump into action should the need arise.

Then trust, and peace, and Nemesis accepted the gesture with a gentle elbow to his ribs. “I’ll be back in touch with an update.”

“Thanks.”

With a touch of fingers to her forehead in a small salute, she backed away and disappeared as she had arrived.

There was no need to see Rhaum on the way out. His business here was concluded, and he needed to get out.

Merc went back to the hallway, only to find Amana gone.

‡

“M
erc bound me
to the chair with some sort of magic–”

“I know,” interrupted the man. “I can feel it. It’s not familiar to me, but it’s not that strong. I should be able to remove within a minute.”

“I don’t know if we have a minute,” said Amana, glancing back the way Merc and Whisper had left. “I don’t know what’s going on back there.”

The man didn’t reply. He held his hands on either side of her waist, not touching her, but too close for her to be comfortable with. Considering he was rescuing her, though, she should maybe relax her standards about that this one time.

Amana had no ability to feel magic, but the man’s face was strained and his breaths were coming in short puffs. From the way he was looking, perhaps Merc’s magic was tougher than he thought it would be. If he didn’t look so strained, she’d ask him his name. It felt weird being rescued when you couldn’t thank the person properly afterward.

It was more than a minute, but the binding around her waist lessened, dissipating into the air, and she was free. There was no time to say anything. The moment the spell was completely gone, he grabbed her arm and half-ran with her through the back hallway and moving once again into the club, he led her straight to the front door.

His car was a beat up muscle car, but it could have been a garbage truck for all she cared. Freedom was hers. Granted, she’d have to dump this guy and head off the moment the first opportunity arose since she was not going to let herself under the Guild’s tender mercies, but right now only relief and gratitude were rushing through her. “How did you find me?”