Panther Prowling Read online

  That someone had the guts to break into his place was odd enough, but to ransack it? They either didn’t know Daniel very well or they considered themselves stronger and more dangerous than he was. “Someone ransacked your apartment? For what?”

  “I don’t know. But it only gets stranger. When I went back out to my car, I found the sword in the backseat, covered up by a blanket. I don’t know how I got hold of it—I honestly don’t remember.”

  I cocked my head. “And the sword is the same one that was in your client’s living room?”

  “Yes. But there’s more. I didn’t call the cops about my apartment, obviously. But I was going to phone Le—my client—and tell him I had the sword. That somehow it had gotten into the backseat of my car. But when I tried his number, nobody answered.” He paled. “That’s when I found out that he’s in the hospital. Somebody hit him over the head a good one. He claims he can’t remember who did it. What if . . . what if that someone was me?” He drifted off, staring into space and it felt like he’d vanished down the rabbit hole.

  “Daniel?” Camille leaned forward. “Daniel?”

  He barely registered her words.

  I frowned. Daniel was one of the most focused men I’d ever known. It wasn’t like him to lose track of conversations, let alone anything else. He’d been part of a squad so elite that there was no record of it on the books. Trained to absolute discipline, nothing save for an enchantment or spell should captivate him like this. And he usually never lied about what he did, so why would he lie about what had happened starting now?

  Leaning forward, I shook his arm. “Daniel? Can you hear me?”

  He jerked, startling out of his reverie. “What . . . ?”

  “You tranced out when you were talking about the sword.”

  “The sword?” He paused. “Oh, yes. That’s right. It’s really beautiful, isn’t it? Makes you want to just hold it . . . ” Again, he started to drift.

  “So you found out your client was in the hospital. What did you do then?”

  “That was late last night. Given the state of my apartment and what happened with the sword, I decided to stay in one of my hideouts for the evening. Today, I checked on my client—he’s all right but apparently he either really does have amnesia or he just doesn’t want the cops to know about our talk either. I thought about it, and decided that I’d ditch the sword down off the docks, into the Sound. I normally don’t go in for antics like that, but this whole mess has just weirded me out.”

  I glanced at Camille. She looked as clueless as I felt. Turning back to Daniel, I asked, “So what happened, and why was a ghost chasing you?”

  “Okay, I headed down to the docks—I still haven’t gone back to my apartment but I guess I’ll have to pretty soon, if only to clean up. On my way down to the pier, I had a flashback to my time in the ISA. And . . .” He paused, and a worried look stole over his face. “I don’t even like talking about this.”

  “You’d better, if you want our help.” Menolly noticed his water glass was empty and pulled a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge in her office. “Drink.”

  He sipped it, a few drops dribbling down his chin. Absently wiping them away, he continued. “All right. But it’s not pleasant.”

  I eased out a faint smile. “We’re used to unpleasant. Go ahead, Daniel.”

  “Well, you know that I did everything I could to extricate myself from the ISA. I was and am a dangerous and deadly man, and I don’t try to cover that up. When I was given a job, I did it, regardless of how distasteful my orders were. I’ve done things that I regret. That still haunt me in my nightmares. There’s nothing I can do to ever make up for some of the atrocities I committed. That’s why I went to such lengths to get out without the ISA killing me. I couldn’t face the job—or myself—anymore.”

  Daniel had set in place a system where, if the ISA had him executed, news would be leaked as to some of their more covert activities, which would go down with the public about as well as public lynchings and the poor house.

  “But this afternoon, I had a . . . it was like a flashback. A surge of that ruthless spark. I started thinking maybe I should keep the sword and . . . here’s where it gets really weird. I had the urge to rampage through downtown with it, mowing down people. Almost a craving. Now, even when I was in the ISA, I viewed it as a job. I didn’t enjoy what I did. Today I was craving the rush . . . the kill . . . After a long struggle, at least an hour of going back and forth with myself, I managed to get a hold on it. But this scared the fuck out of me.”

  As he once again drifted into silence, it struck me that Daniel was a pressure cooker. As long as he kept the valves running free, he was fine, but clog up the works and he was destined to blow.

  Members who had belonged to the military, whether they were secret service or not, always faced the danger of returning to combat mentality. When you added in assassination and sniper skills, along with whatever else Daniel had done, it made for a volatile cocktail. I frowned. Daniel, when I thought about it, had the foundation to become a highly dangerous and skilled serial killer. Or mass murderer.

  As if reading my thoughts, Menolly pushed through to Daniel’s side. She took his hand. “If anybody knows what the fear of becoming a monster is, it’s me. I live with that possibility every day. I live with that choice every day. Because, Daniel, I am a monster. I keep control by conscious decision. You have a choice, and you made that choice when you left the ISA. It sounds like something has triggered you back into that mind-set again. You’re going to have to wrestle with your inner monster again, I fear.”

  Morio nodded. “I think she’s right. And I think the sword has something to do with this. Daniel, what about the Viking ghost? Have you ever seen him before? What happened to cause him to chase you tonight?”

  Daniel cleared his throat and smiled, squeezing Menolly’s hand before he let go and readjusted the ice pack.

  “No, I’ve never seen him before. I’ve never seen any ghosts before, that I know of. I think the Viking is like . . . a guardian for the sword. As I said, I was going to drop it into Puget Sound. I stopped down by one of the piers and started to take it out of the car when I heard a noise.”

  “The Viking?” Smoky asked.

  “Right. I turned around to see the Viking. When I realized I could see through him, I figured he must be some sort of spirit. I was holding the sword, by my car, when he came charging toward me. Discretion is the better part of valor, they say, so I decided to get the hell out of there. I tossed the sword back in the car and slammed the door, managing to lock my keys inside. By that point, he was almost to me, and I didn’t have time to use the code to get my keys and get the fuck out of there, so I ran. I remembered your invitation to Camille’s birthday—which I apologize for not responding to—and decided to head to the bar. Ghosts and spirits are right up your alley, so I figured you’d be able to help me. Or at least, protect me. That damned Viking followed me the entire way. Luckily, I’m fast.” Daniel’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated.

  “Well . . . it’s a good thing you got here before he managed to catch you.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “So the ghost may be attached to the sword.”

  “One thing is for sure—we won’t be able to tell until we examine it.” Camille tapped her finger on the desk. “So, to be clear, the only time this Viking has ever shown up was tonight, when you were about ready to get rid of the sword?”

  “Right. I’ll be honest about something else. I don’t even know if I could have let go of the sword. I don’t know if I could have actually dropped it into the Sound. There’s something about it . . . But that’s what I was determined to do. I haven’t picked up a carbon copy of the One Ring, have I?” Even though he tried to make a joke, it was obvious that Daniel was shaken up.

  “Luckily, Tolkien made up the ring. Kind of. But there are other things as dangerous . . . even
more so.” As Shade spoke, I knew we were all thinking of the spirit seals and what would happen if Shadow Wing managed to collect all nine.

  Nine parts to an ancient artifact, the spirit seals had divided the world into Otherworld, the Subterranean Realms, and Earthside. The ancient Fae Lords had driven the Great Divide with a fury and passion, ripping apart the three realms in order to lock away the demonic threat. But now the spirit seals were coming to light. We’d found several, but only managed to keep hold of three. Shadow Wing had come to possess three. There were three more up for grabs. If they were reunited, the resulting apocalypse could destroy the portals and rip the veils separating the realms. And Shadow Wing could break through without a problem.

  Daniel didn’t know anything about them, though, or about Shadow Wing, so none of us said what we were thinking.

  Shade cleared his throat. “Do you remember what was running through your mind right before you saw the ghost coming toward you?”

  Daniel rubbed his temples. “I believe what I was thinking right then . . . yes, I was thinking how I couldn’t wait to get rid of the sword.”

  “I think we’re right, then.” Shade let out a long sigh. “The ghost is some form of protector, and when you started thinking about disposing of the sword, your intention summoned him to attack you. Which means that somehow the sword may have taken a liking to you. And that might not be a healthy thing. Let’s hope it’s not permanent.”

  I stood up. “Before we go any further, I think we’d better make sure the sword’s still around and that nobody has broken into your car. Whatever the case, it’s obvious the blade is a powerful piece and we need to know more about it. We don’t want it falling into the wrong hands. We also need to figure out if you’re the one who attacked your client. If you did, and he remembers, he might just send somebody after you, thinking you did it on purpose.” I stood up. “Let’s take a trip down to your car, Daniel.”

  Menolly patted Daniel on the shoulder—a rare gesture for her, but one that I’d seen more of since she’d gotten married to Nerissa. “I have to stay here and watch the bar—I really can’t run off on opening night. But Camille and the others will take you. Camille, do you want to take your gifts with you?”

  Laughing, Camille shook her head. “Why don’t you bring them home when you come? If I bring them now, we’ll probably end up in a fight and they’ll get destroyed somehow.”

  “Are you coming back after you look at the sword?” Menolly opened the door to her office.

  Camille shrugged. “Hard to tell, but I doubt it. We don’t know if Viking boy has friends, or if he’ll still be hanging around. We don’t even know if he’s really a ghost or some other kind of spirit. So if we don’t make it back, please rescue the rest of the cake because I plan on having more than one slice of it.”

  With that, we trooped out to our cars. The lot on the other side of the street had been razed. The building had been old and crumbling and nobody had wanted the lease on it, so a developer bought it and put in a parking lot. At the rates Seattle parking went for, it would likely bring the new owner a pretty penny—a lot more than a storefront would have.

  Nerissa stayed with Menolly, as the rest of us piled into our cars. Camille and I were sober by now—Daniel and the ghost had seen to that. Camille’s husbands rode with her. Shade rode up front with me, and Vanzir and Roz rode in the back. Daniel squeezed in between them. And at precisely nine thirty, we pulled out of the garage and headed down to the waterfront.

  * * *

  Along the way, Daniel seemed agitated, and the closer we got to his car, the more agitated he seemed, muttering under his breath and shifting in his seat. I could see him through the rearview mirror. Finally, Shade glanced over his shoulder.

  “What is going on, man? What’s all the muttering about?”

  Daniel grumbled. “I just feel terribly uneasy about the sword. This is not how I usually am. You know me enough by now to know that I’m almost always in control of myself.”

  “True.” Shade glanced at me and, in a low voice, whispered, “Should we do anything?”

  “What can we do?” I whispered back. It wasn’t like we could sedate him. All we could do was hurry to his car and clean up the mess he’d stumbled into, if we could. But truth was, I found myself eager to see the sword and figure out what was going on. At least we weren’t facing Shadow Wing’s demons, a nice change of pace, ghostly or not.

  “Daniel, what was the name of the person you stole the sword from? We should do some research.” I glanced over at Shade. “Take notes, love, please?”

  “No problem.” Shade pulled out a pen and notebook. I’d gotten him in the habit of carrying them wherever he went. I still liked the solid feel of paper, though when I had my new tablet with me, I often used that. But you didn’t need to worry about the battery going out on a notebook, and you didn’t need to worry about work getting erased.

  Daniel let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ve never given away the name of a client before, you know. I treat everything confidentially.”

  “It’s not like we’re setting him up to be arrested.” I snorted. “Dude, you either want our help or you don’t, and the way things sound, you need our help. So cooperate and hand over his name.”

  Daniel let out a little huff. “His name is Leif Engberg. He lives at the Vista View Towers over in Kirkland.” He pulled out a small tablet and began zipping over the surface. “I do extensive research on every single person that I take on commissions from.”

  “Daniel . . .” I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to call him out and make it stick this time. “We’re done with the charade. We know you don’t like facing the truth; that much is obvious. But it’s over. You can’t fake it with us. You’re a professional thief. If you walk the walk, at least talk the talk.” I cringed, I hated that phrase—it was so slick and easy, but sometimes? It was also true.

  “We don’t approve of what you do; you know that. But we also know you don’t steal from poor people and you aren’t leaving anybody hungry. So we’re not going to get on your case as long as you’re honest. Get it?”

  Finally, Daniel let out a long breath. “Got it. All right, no white gloves. When I’m casing a house, I also case the person. The same with my clients—it never hurts to be as knowledgeable as you can. Usually the people I interact with—on either side—have extensive security systems. And for what it’s worth, you’re correct in that I would never steal from anyone who was poor. Televisions? Stereos? Even jewelry, I don’t bother with. For one thing, I wouldn’t ever want to put a family at risk for food or cause them to lose a valuable memory.”

  That made me feel a little better. At least he wasn’t being a prick. “So you only go after art objects?”

  “Usually. Art. Antiquities. An occasional jewel, but usually it’s a rare specimen and not set into jewelry. The people who hire me aren’t looking for objects to sell. They’re almost always looking to add to a private gallery. They don’t want a two-thousand-dollar ring from the local jewelry shop.” He shrugged. “They have the money to pay me what I need to support my lifestyle.”

  I sighed. He had really built up a business, all right. “All right, so the places you go into are highly secure. Meaning your skills are put to the test. And you need to know about the client so you have every resource at hand. That makes sense. Tell us about Leif.”

  “Leif is the son of a Norwegian immigrant. He’s first-generation American. His father, Karl, ran a highly successful technology company over in Oslo. He moved it to the United States shortly before he was killed in a plane crash—pilot error. Small craft. It went down twenty minutes after it left the ground. Leif was an only son, and his mother was dead, so he inherited a great deal of money, as well as everything his father owned. He’s on the board of his father’s company, but he doesn’t take an active part and enjoys a rather freewheeling lifestyle. He just wants to party, play with p
retty girls, and spend money.”

  That gave us a pretty clear view of Leif. “Do you know how he came by the sword?”

  Daniel consulted his tablet. “Yes, actually. In my research on him, I found out that he inherited his father’s property and it was part of that. His father was an art collector, but apparently the sword is a family heirloom. Another reason why I’d never consciously steal it.”

  As we pulled into the parking lot near the pier, we saw one car—a black sedan. It could be any sedan, which surprised me. I’d expected to see Daniel in a Porsche or something fancy, but then I realized, he wouldn’t want to be noticed. Not in his profession. The less attention he drew to himself, the better.

  As we stepped out of our cars, the chill hit me. I shivered, looking at the mist as it rolled in off the Sound. Filtering up from the water, the wisps of fog boiled along the asphalt of the parking lot, reaching out with ghostly tendrils. Daniel hesitated for a moment, then walked over to his car and punched in a code on a small panel against the driver’s door. The lock beeped, and he opened the back left door. After a moment, he emerged, his keys dangling from one hand.

  “Found them.”

  “I thought you couldn’t lock your keys in the car anymore,” I said.

  He shrugged. “Generally most models are set up to where you can’t, but I’ve modified my car. You can lock it without the key. I realized that I didn’t have time to hunt for my keys with the Viking coming after me, so I punched the ‘lock’ button that I had installed on every door. That way, I can lock it and run if I have to, then use the code access panel to unlock it when I return.”

  He turned back to the car and withdrew a long scabbard, leather inset with sparkling gems. A shiver ran down my back as Lysanthra, my sentient dagger, woke up. She stirred, and an alarm ran threw me as she whispered in the recesses of my mind, Blood . . . the blade craves it. And it will not rest until the spirit within is freed and his thirst quenched.