Wuthering Frights Read online

  Trey stood up then, and propping his pudgy arms on the top of his monitor, he offered me a consoling smile as he studied me. "Things will get better between the two of you, Dulce."

  I felt my eyebrows arch in surprise as I realized Trey was more in the know than I could have imagined. I mean, I didn’t tell him Knight and I had broken up. "So word's already gotten out about us?"

  Trey nodded with the expression of someone disappointed. "Yeah, I found out from Sam."

  "From Sam?" I repeated, suddenly worried that Sam had somehow broken the silence charm I'd insisted she put on herself. "What did she tell you, exactly?" I asked, eyeing Trey like a hawk.

  Trey shrugged again and then ran his arm across his nose, apparently in an effort to scratch an itch. "Nothing really, just that you and Knight weren't together anymore. She said she didn't know why."

  Relief cascaded through me at the same time as a rock of worry filled my gut. It was just a huge bummer to realize the finality of Knight's and my breakup was now public news. I noticed Trey watching me expectantly, like he was waiting for me to fill him in on the hows and whys of it, which of course, was never going to happen.

  "Well, sometimes things just don't work out," I said dismissively and faced my computer screen again. I tried to remain uninterested and casual as I forwarded to the next bio and hit "print."

  "I thought you guys were really into each other," Trey continued, his lower lip sticking out so far, someone could trip on it.

  "Relationships aren't as easy as they appear to be," I said in a stilted tone, not wanting to discuss any of this at all. It was beginning to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

  "Knight's been different ever since though," Trey continued, sighing heavily. He leaned his large head on his arm, looking like a country singer about to lament his unrequited love in a woe-be-gone song.

  I knew I should've just avoided the subject altogether because it wasn't like I could do anything about it. I'd done what I had to and that was that. But somehow, I couldn't help my own curiosity. "What do you mean?"

  "He's just in a crappy mood all the time now and doesn't seem like he wants to hang out with any of us, like he used to."

  I exhaled my pent-up anxiety and shook my head. "He'll come around eventually. I think he just has a lot on his plate at the moment."

  "Do you have those reports for me yet?" Knight's irritated voice sounded from behind me and I felt myself jump in reflex. I glanced at Trey and grimaced, realizing Knight had probably just overheard the remnants of our conversation. Trey just smiled innocently and sat back down, leaving me to suffer the wrath of the Loki. If I'd thought Knight was in a bad mood before, overhearing me discussing our failed relationship certainly wouldn't help things.

  I pulled the final printouts off the printer and stacked them on top of the other ones piled on my desk. Knight said nothing, but turned around and started down the hallway for the break room, his coffee cup in hand. He called out over his shoulder, "Just leave them on my desk."

  I had no intention of leaving them on his desk. Nope, I had my own reconnaissance to do and that involved finding out as much as I could about this “anonymous tip.” I walked the printouts into Knight's office and sat on the visitor's chair, waiting for him to return.

  With nothing else to do, I busied myself by scanning his office. His brown leather jacket was draped over his bookshelf, which was piled high with file folders. There really wasn't anything too personal in Knight's office, aside from a picture of him standing next to Gabriel, his best friend from the Netherworld. Knight and Gabe grew up together. Gabe was also a Loki and gorgeous—almost as gorgeous as Knight. I only met him once, when Knight and I were being held captive in the Netherworld. Moving on from the picture, there was a BMW magazine on the top of Knight's desk and a motorcycle magazine beneath it. I shook my head with an amused smirk as I thought about what a man's man Knight was with regard to his love of speed. The only signature in the office that was truly Knight’s was the smell—his office smelled just like him: crisp, clean aftershave mixed with pure and raw masculinity.

  "I thought I said just leave them on the desk?" Knight grumbled from behind me as he closed the door, being careful not to spill his coffee. He walked behind his desk and took a seat.

  "Yeah, you did," I answered, my tone flat. I definitely didn't appreciate his sudden aggression. "So why the bad mood?"

  He raised his eyebrows with surprise, before frowning. "What bad mood?"

  "Um, the bad mood that’s been hovering over you all day. If you're trying to beat the competition for 'World's Worst Boss,' you're well on your way."

  "Funny, Dulcie," he said, although his expression said it wasn't funny by a long shot.

  "Haven't you noticed everyone around you seems to be walking on eggshells?"

  He glanced at me as he sipped his coffee, looking completely irritated. "Is that why you came in here—to ride me about my office manners? If so, I'm not in the mood to hear it."

  "No that's not why I'm here," I snapped, frowning as I leaned forward and gave him a little sass. "I wanted to bring you the printouts and ask what's going on with this new street potion you mentioned."

  He arched a brow at me and motioned for me to hand him the stack of papers. I did and watched as he shuffled through them and then tossed them on the desk, leaning back in his seat and taking a deep breath. He rested his legs on the desk, crossing them at the ankles and stretched his muscular arms above his head like a cat just waking from a nap.

  "I don't know if there's any credence to the tip," he started as he faced me again. "But we received a typed note saying to keep an eye out for a brand new, incredibly addictive potion."

  "Does it have a name? And if so, was it anything you'd heard of before?" I asked, sitting on the edge of my seat as I waited for his response with visible anticipation. "Did the note say when the potion was going to hit the streets?" Knight looked at me closely, as if wondering why I was so curious. "Um, I'm back on the force again; or did you forget?" I replied to the unasked question in his eyes.

  He dropped the suspicious expression and simply nodded. "The note didn't say what the potion was or when it's due to hit, but from the sound of it, it's something completely new."

  "Where's the note?" I asked, trying to sound more businesslike, while burning with the need to see it. I hoped the note might give me some hint as to where it had originated and, more specifically, a hint as to who knew too much.

  Knight said nothing, but pulled open the top drawer of his desk and handed a folded piece of white paper to me. His fingers brushed against mine and I felt my eyes go wide as they met his, which were narrowed and angry. I quickly looked away.

  "And you checked it for prints?" I asked, unfolding the note as feelings of gratitude descended on me over the fact that I had something with which to attract my attention away from the heat in his eyes.

  "Of course," he answered tersely, wrapping his arms across his broad chest. I glanced up at him for a second and immediately regretted it. He just looked so ... mad.

  Refocusing my attention from Knight to the letter, I read:

  New potion hitting streets soon from Netherworld. Nothing like it out there. Instantaneous dependency. Could cause widespread epidemic. Increase patrols.

  I felt myself gulping as my heart started pounding in my chest. Someone knew! There had to be a snitch somewhere in Melchior's ranks and the thought made me sick to my stomach. The next logical step was to deduce that if there was a snitch, he or she could easily have ratted me out ... if he or she hadn't already.

  I took a deep breath and told myself to calm down. I was getting way too carried away, and playing the "what if" game wasn't going to help things. I handed the note back to Knight and offered him a raised brow expression, not really knowing what else to say. There was nothing in the letter that I could comment on. And, since there were no fingerprints associated with it, it truly was anonymous. Whoever left it had been incredibly careful.

  "W
hat do you make of it?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence between us.

  He shrugged. "Who knows if it's legit, but I'd rather be safe than sorry; so I'm going to treat it as if it came directly from Caressa."

  "Probably smart," I said, the words dying on my tongue as I noticed his intent gaze on me.

  "What do you make of it?" he asked, studying me as if trying to memorize every line of my face.

  "Not much there to make anything of," I answered, feeling like I was choking on the words. He didn't lose that suspicious expression and at the thought of further questions, I quickly added: "Where do you want me to patrol?"

  "I don't," he said simply, his jaw tight.

  I felt my stomach drop and was suddenly scared to death that he knew more than he was letting on. There was just something in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "I don't think you're emotionally stable at the moment," he said simply.

  I nearly swallowed my own tongue. "Excuse me?"

  He shrugged as if what he'd just said wasn't a big deal by any stretch of the imagination. "You've been sleeping in and showing up late to work, things you've never done before."

  "I did it once!" I interrupted him, spearing him with my eyes. "One time, for fuck sake!"

  He didn't seem fazed. "You're too thin, you look sick and you've distanced yourself from all your friends. All warning signs, as far as I'm concerned."

  "Warning signs of what?" I demanded, glaring at him. He was basically doubting my ability to do my job, and I had to admit, despite my fuming, I was hurt. "And I haven't distanced myself from any of my friends, I've just been busy!"

  "Doing what?"

  "None of your business," I said in as collected a tone as I could muster. "All that matters is that I'm good at my job, Knight, you know that."

  "You were good at your job. These days, I don't know what to think about you."

  I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth. "This is fucking unbelievable," I said as I shook my head.

  "I think you have some things to figure out for yourself, Dulcie," Knight continued calmly, like he thought he was a shrink or something. "And as head of this branch of the ANC, I can't, in good conscience, put you in a potentially dangerous situation."

  Feeling like I would either cry or pull my hair out, I exhaled deeply, and ran my hand through my hair in frustration. Instantly Knight's eyes glommed onto my wrist.

  "What's that?" he demanded, pointing at my portal compass watch.

  If I'd had anything in my bladder, I absolutely would have wet myself. Instead, it felt like I was in slow motion as I brought my gaze to the diamond-faced watch, which caught the sunlight coming through the window. It reflected rainbow prisms all around the room as I panicked, my heart beating frantically. Then I realized there was no way in hell that Knight could identify this as a portal watch. There was nothing about it to give it away. Instead, it appeared to be an extravagantly ostentatious timepiece.

  "It's a watch," I said simply, berating myself for not having left it at my apartment.

  "I can see that," Knight barked back at me. "Where did you get it?"

  "A store." I said the first thing that came to mind, and realized my mistake immediately.

  "You bought it for yourself?" Knight asked incredulously.

  Well, the lie had already escaped from my lips, so there was no use in backing down now. As transparent as my lie would be, it was still way better than admitting that the Head of the Netherworld, a.k.a., the head of the illegal potions market, gave the watch to me. "Yes."

  Knight cocked his head to the side and studied me. "Interesting, considering you detest the color pink not to mention diamonds."

  I swallowed and prayed for a miracle. Unfortunately, one didn't come. "I, uh, needed a watch and didn't feel like shopping ... for a long time, so I just bought the first one I saw."

  Knight stared at the watch again, before bringing his fuming blue eyes back to mine. "A Rolex? You bought the first Rolex you happened to see?"

  I suddenly wished one of the flying Netherworld monsters had followed me home and gobbled me up, just so I wouldn't have to face the ire in Knight's eyes. "Yeah, I wanted to get something nice for myself," I answered sheepishly.

  "Good to know you have, oh, ten thousand dollars just laying around."

  Ten thousand dollars! My eyes nearly popped out of my head. I had no idea the watch was that expensive! I said nothing, but watched Knight shake his head as he exhaled. "It's great you've moved on so quickly, Dulcie. Kudos to you."

  "That's not …" I started, but he shook his head again, silencing me with his raised hand.

  "I don't give a shit about your personal life," he interrupted me. "All that matters to me now is that you do a good job here. And lately, your attitude sucks."

  I shook my head and felt exhausted from my hair to my toes. "If anyone has had a personality change lately, it's you," I spat back at him. "So don't try and tell me that I can't do my job when it's pretty clear where all of this is coming from."

  His jaw went tight. "And where would that be?"

  I wasn't about to back down, not now. "Obviously from the recent events between you and me."

  He snickered an ugly sound and then the smile left his lips entirely as he glanced at my watch again. "Don't flatter yourself."

  "I'm not," I answered, narrowing my eyes as the pain of his words singed me. "I'm simply looking at the facts."

  "Dulcie," he started, a slight smile playing with his lips again, which pissed me off even more than his harsh words had. "I've had plenty of time to ask myself what happened with you and me and I've reached the conclusion that what happened was destined to be."

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "It means that your hang-ups are bound to fuck up any relationship you get into."

  I shook my head, at a loss for words to adequately defend myself. And the kicker of the whole damn thing was that I'd broken up with him merely to protect him! "Maybe and maybe not," I said finally, feeling completely defeated because there was nothing I could say that would make things better.

  "It is what it is," he finished dismissively. "But don't worry about me because I'll move on." He narrowed his eyes. "I am moving on."

  I didn't want to admit to myself how much his words stung me to the core, and of course, I wasn't going to admit anything to him. I simply held my tongue and nodded, trying not to lose my poker face. "Then I'm happy for you."

  He glared at me for a second or two before a mask of indifference pasted itself over his face. "And as far as this investigation goes, you're off it."

  I stood up, feeling sick to my stomach and left his office.

  ###

  The cell phone on loan from Melchior buzzed in my pocket at exactly seven p.m. I pulled it out and noticing "private caller" on the window, figured it had to be Quill. Really, he was the only one who ever called me on the damn thing anyway.

  "Hello?" I answered, impatiently.

  "Dulce." It was Quillan. "Christina is going to pick you up in thirty minutes."

  Yes, I was dead tired and needed to sleep, but after my day with Knight, I knew I wouldn't be able to. "Sounds good," I said with a deep sigh.

  "I'll see you both soon," Quill answered. Then he apparently remembered something. "Your father had one of his cars shipped to the empty warehouse at the loading docks. You can take it home tonight, but just be sure to park it somewhere where no one will notice it; and make sure no one's around whenever you're getting into and out of it."

  "I'll park it in the Vons lot around the corner," I said. "And I'll go for incognito when I'm driving it."

  "Yeah, that sounds good," he answered quickly and then paused for a few seconds. "Are you okay?"

  I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that no, I wasn't okay by any stretch of the imagination, but held myself in check. "I'm great."

  Twelve

  After I got off the phone with Quill, it suddenly struck me as odd that Christina was coming to p
ick me up—mainly because it wasn't like we were friends or anything. I shrugged the concern away, though, figuring Quill was just nervous about me using my ANC bike on Melchior business. And when it came down to it, it would be an opportunity for me to grill Christina for information, and find out exactly how close she was to my father.

  Christina rang my doorbell precisely thirty minutes after I hung up with Quill. This time, she was dressed in dark blue jeans with flared legs, white sneakers, and a white T-shirt, which made her natural olive complexion look even tanner. She didn't have a speck of makeup on, not even eyeliner or mascara, and even in this most natural state, she was still very pretty. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, which I immediately noticed because I'd always had an aversion to wearing my hair up and revealing the points on my ears. Apparently Christina wasn't a self conscious fairy. Point for her, I guess.