Wilhelmina A Novella (21 page)

He accepted that answer for what it was and took the glass from my hand. He swallowed the drink in one swig and sat the glass onto my desk.

'So what is it that you want of me? Do I owe you money?' He asked.

'I have money,' I said.

'Ah, well... If it's pleasure you're after, I'm sure we can negotiate a fair price for the both of us,' he said with a wicked grin.

'The pleasure I'm after can't be found in you, I assure you,' I said. He found my scornful answer amusing, but I didn't waste any time begrudging his rude demeanor. 'However, I believe that you can help me find that pleasure. And if you're quite finished being a horse's ass, to be blunt, then we can move onto business.'

'All you had to do was say the word
money
and I'd have put on my business face, ma'am,' he said. He helped himself to the crystal decanter of whiskey on my desk, drinking right from the bottle rather than pouring himself a serving. 'So what is it you
think
I can do for you? It must be something important if I had to be dragged out of the pub against my will.'

'I've been told that you were once a well sought hunter,' I said.

'If it's
procuring
you're after, I no longer taking on dirty work for rich hellions who don't want to get their hands bloody.'

'What I want you to hunt for me is less lively and much older,' I said.

I drifted right up to his side and took the decanter from his hand, setting it back onto the desk. I stared right into his eyes, drooping and bloodshot from his drunken binges. Had his reputation as a hunter not been so esteemed among those of our kind with power, I would have sent him out of my sight. But as it was, I needed someone whose reputation didn't involve risky behaviors and numerous failures. I ran a finger down his chest, trailing down the groves of lean muscles I could feel through the shirt, which captured his full attention.

'I need you to find someone for me - a certain immortal who prefers to remain in hiding,' I said.

'Why don't you have your lackeys find this immortal for you? They tracked me down well enough,' he said, picking up the whiskey and brushing past me.

'Because well-enough is not going to find Pontius,' I said.

His head whipped around, eyes fixed on my satin-draped frame.

'You're bloody insane,' he said. 'That's not tracking an immortal, that's tracking an
ancient
- a particularly dangerous ancient who tried to have our kind eradicated, in case you didn't know!'

'I'm well versed in the history of the damned,' I said. 'Pontius, the first progeny of the All-Father. As the story goes, he was imprisoned for his crimes, somewhere no one would ever think to look for him... And unfortunately for me, that's as far as my resources can get me. But you have certain gifts that can find him for me -
if
he still exists, which I'm not entirely convinced that he does.'

'Then you'll understand why I won't be going anywhere near him. I certainly won't be trying to make him go anywhere he doesn't want to,' said Whyte.

'You don't have you make him do anything, you simply have to find him for me,' I said. I looked up into his eyes and held his gaze with mine, locked him into my entrancing stare. 'If I am wrong and you do find this ancient, you don't have to speak to him, you don't have to engage him - you will do nothing but report back to me and disclose his location. My men and I will take over from there and you will walk away with more money than you'll know what to with.'

He tossed around the idea in his head as he emptied the decanter and sat it on the nearest bookshelf.

'I only have to find him?' He asked. 'I won't have to lead you to him or anything after I've found wherever he's hiding?'

'I give you my word,' I said.

'What's he to you?'

'He happens to be the maker of a man who died many years ago; a man with whom I have unfinished business,' I said. 'Only a maker can bring one of us back from the dead. It's what makes us truly immortal.'

'I'm guessing you and this bloke didn't exactly get along,' he said.

'He killed my family,' I said. I balled my fists and fought against the rage that began roaring within me. 'He made me what I am.'

'Why bring him back to life, then? Shouldn't his death be enough to make you happy?'

'If I didn't need him, it would make me very happy. And once our business has been concluded, I will put his dead body to rest in a place that even his maker won't be able to resurrect him if he wanted to. But before I can make him suffer, I need him to do something for me...'

I drifted around my desk and took my seat, leaning back in the chair and staring into his debating face.

'Do you want the money or not?' I asked.

'I get by on the money I have; but there is something else you can bargain with,' he said.

'Which is?' I groaned, annoyed, and looked down at the pages of my book. Everyone always wanted to haggle, wanted something valuable. They wanted notoriety, or power.

'I want your word,' he said. He walked up to my desk and leaned his body against it, hands on the surface and shoulders squared. 'I want your word that, should I find this ancient, you will introduce me to the Sovereign.'

I looked up from my book. This had most certainly captured my interest.

'What makes you think that I know the Sovereign?'

'Because I know who you are, Mary Shepherd, and I know about your past,' he said. 'I also knew your sister, and I know why you want Pontius to bring Charles Abberdean back from the dead.'

'Then maybe you know too much,' I said.

'Perhaps... But I also understand how important this is to you. How long will it take you to find another hunter with my talents? Two, three decades? A century?' He sat on the edge of my desk and that cocky half-smirk returned. I didn't like it. 'What is one little audience compared to having all of your desires realized?'

'If you find Pontius, your reward will be in currency,' I said.

At that, he grunted irritably and stood up, heading for the door.

'But if you find Pontius and convince him to come to me, then I will give you your audience with the Sovereign.'

Whyte sauntered right up to my desk and placed his hands on his hips.

'Oh, I'll bring you your ancient Maker; just make sure that you can keep up your half of the deal,' he said.

'I'll deliver on my promise when I have my ancient.'

He held out his hand, and I slipped my fingers into his rough palm, shaking on the agreement.

I knew that what I was doing was incredibly stupid. The chance of Pontius ripping out both mine and Whyte's throats was far greater than him helping me. But my strong desires clouded my better judgment. I was doing this for vengeance, to give Charles Abberdean everything that he had coming to him after what he did to my mother. But most of all, I was doing this for my sister.

I would bring Charles Abberdean back from hell if it meant that I could have my sister back again.