The Silver Stag Page 8

  COME MORNING, EVERYTHING seemed a little brighter. As I was dressing, I glanced in the mirror at my birthmark. The stag’s head and antlers suddenly made sense. How far had my father’s connections with Cernunnos gone?

  I brushed my hair back, binding it into a high ponytail. I looked more like my father than my mother. He had had raven black hair just like mine, and green eyes like mine as well. My mother had been a redhead, with bright blue eyes and a voice that could charm the morning birds.

  After I shimmied into a pair of jeans, I slipped on a corset top, inhaling deeply as I fastened the busks. I found that corsets supported my boobs better, and they also—if not cinched too tightly—supported my back, especially when I was out on the job, although acrylic boning was a must for being able to move quickly. I wasn’t a tomboy, although I certainly couldn’t be described as prim and proper. I liked makeup and I liked pretty clothes, but I liked my look with an edge.

  After I finished dressing, I slipped on a pair of ankle boots with two-inch heels. They were chunky, and had good tread so that I could run in them. I threaded a studded leather belt through the loops in my jeans, and then, after a quick splash of powder, eye liner, and lip gloss, I headed out to the kitchen.

  Angel was already up, whistling as she prepared pancakes. I was surprised she seemed so cheerful, but Mama J. had taught her to trust her instincts. If she thought DJ was safe, then he was safe.

  “How long have you been up?”

  “About an hour. I took a shower, and I’m grateful I packed a bag for a few days. I’ll need to get the rest of my clothes soon. I thought I’d make bacon and pancakes for breakfast. There weren’t enough eggs so I hope you don’t mind going without on those. I’ve already fed Mr. R. and he’s off playing in the living room.”

  Mr. Rumblebutt loved Angel because she always brought him catnip toys.

  “Mind? Hell, I’m just grateful you’re cooking. My specialties are pizza and toast. But you know that.” I grinned at her. We had gone to community college together, rooming together, and she had done most of the cooking for those two years. I had pitched in with housecleaning. I’d rather scrub the toilet any day than figure out how to prepare dinner. Most nights, I ate sandwiches and opened cans of soup. Or I’d stop for takeout on the way home.

  “Ready to start our new jobs?” She flipped three pancakes onto the plate, added five rashers of bacon, and handed it to me. I carried my plate and the maple syrup over to the table. She followed with the butter and her own plate.

  “Coffee? Coffee coffee coffee?” Angel didn’t share my obsession with caffeine—at least not with coffee. She had her own raging addiction going in the form of black tea, however.

  “I don’t know how to work your espresso machine. So you’re going to have to fix that yourself.” Her eyes were twinkling as she spoke.

  “You’re going to have to learn how to use it if you expect to live with me. Just like I know how to make your tea. You like two tea bags in the cup, so strong that you could stand a spoon up in it. I don’t know how you can gag that stuff down.” I wrinkled my nose at her, grinning. “I’m glad you’re feeling okay this morning. I was so worried about you last night.”

  “I told you, he’s going to be fine. He’s safe where he’s at. Meanwhile, I have to admit that I’m kind of excited. I hated that job, and you’ve got to admit, this is going to be a whole new way of life. No more drifting. And at least I know DJ will be looked after and that they can afford to take care of him. There were months where I ate ramen for dinner so that he could have a halfway decent supper and breakfast.”

  “I wish you would have told me.”

  We had very few secrets from each other, but there were matters we were both embarrassed about. Or maybe, too proud. Money was one of them, on Angel’s part.

  “There’s not much you could have done. You weren’t that much better off.”

  I shrugged. “I could have figured out something to help.” I dug into my pancakes. “Where the hell did you find pancake mix? I didn’t have any in the cupboard.”

  “Flour and eggs, baking powder and milk. A pinch of salt. I know my way around the kitchen, girl.”

  I frowned. “I don’t remember buying flour and baking powder.”

  “My house. You brought them with us last night.”

  “Oh! That’s right. I just grabbed whatever I found. I wasn’t paying close attention.” The pancakes were soft and fluffy, and the syrup tasted slightly different but good.

  “I know I didn’t have syrup. Your place?”

  She shook her head. “I was out of syrup, too. But there was brown sugar and cream, so I made a form of caramel. So you want to be roomies again?”

  I nodded. “I’m game if you are. We can look for a house after we go visit Herne. Or rather, after we go to work. I must admit, it will be a relief not having to freelance anymore. It gets scary when the clients run thin. Or when they cheat you.”

  She gave me a solemn nod. “While my job was more secure, I got really tired of being cussed at when things went wrong, and watching the guys get promoted right and left. Not to mention having the scuzzball boss hit on me. But if I had filed a sexual harassment suit, he would have found a way to turn it around on me. And I couldn’t afford to be out of work, given taking care of DJ.”

  I bit down on a piece of bacon. Several times, I had wanted to pay a visit to Angel’s boss and set him straight on how to treat her, but she begged me not to. And I knew she couldn’t afford to get on his bad side.

  “I’ll put the condo up for sale. I should be able to find a little house on the outskirts of the city for not much more than I paid for this. Mortgage shouldn’t be too steep, and you can rent a room from me. That work for you?”

  She nodded. “All right. I’ll give thirty days’ notice on the house, it’s not on a lease so at least I’ve got that going for me. The only thing I ask is that you don’t buy anything near a frat-boy hangout or party house. The one thing going for the neighborhood I lived in was that it was quiet.”

  “And dangerous. We can ask Herne for some recommendations.” I paused, glancing sideways at her. “Am I the only one who thinks he’s pretty hot?”

  Angel let out a laugh. “You better watch yourself. Getting involved with a god could be dicey.”

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex? After what happened with the last couple guys…” I fell silent, my giddy mood suddenly vanishing. “Thank you, by the way. For explaining to Ray. I just couldn’t tell him.”

  “I thought you might be mad, but I felt he deserved to know. He deserved to know that you weren’t being a bitch. You did what you could to save his life.”

  “Well, thank you anyway. I still can’t talk about it very easily. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know if I ever will. The first time I thought it was a fluke, but after Leland I knew it was just being in proximity to me and my work.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to keep away the images that kept running through my mind. First there was Robert, who tried to help me on a job putting a stop to a batch of will-o’-the-wisps, but they lured him away when I wasn’t watching and drained him of his life force. I blamed myself, and it had taken me months to regain my equilibrium, and a couple years before I felt strong enough to date again.

  And then I met Leland, and I had fallen in love with him. He was a cougar shifter from Mount Rainier. We dated for several months before I would even let him kiss me, and then slowly, I let the relationship move forward. He was a gentleman, waiting for me to give the okay. Finally, I took him into my bed, made long slow love to him, and in the middle of our tryst, he had a fatal heart attack. The doctor said it was too much rich food—and Leland did love his expensive pastries and carb-rich pasta dishes—but that kind of put a damper on things for me.

  Then Ray showed up. He almost made me almost change my mind, but the closer we got, the more flashbacks to Robert and Leland I had. And then, Ray was attacked
by the goblin I was going after. He hadn’t died, but the scar was a nasty one, and I decided that I liked him too much to chance him getting killed because of me.

  “So you’re thinking, maybe because Herne’s a god, that he won’t fall under whatever curse you think you carry that killed Leland and Robert, and almost killed Ray?” Angel smiled. “Just make sure that you really like him first, okay? I know you’re hard up, and trust me, I understand. But don’t jump your employer’s bones just because you’re horny. That could be bad in so many ways, and I’m not just talking about finding him dead on the bed.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” I gave her a wry grin. “It’s been so long since I worked for anybody else that I’ve forgotten the nuances of social interaction on the job. I guess it would be like sleeping with one of my clients. Not such a good idea.”

  I hated to admit it, but she was right. I also didn’t like owning up to the fact that I found Herne absolutely gorgeous. I had a thing for the biker boys, especially the bad ones. Pushing lascivious thoughts away, I finished my breakfast and stood up.

  “I suppose we better go find out what our new lives are going be like.” I paused, then added, “I’m glad you’re okay. Last night was harsh.”

  Even though Angel insisted she was all right, there had to be a place deep inside where she was devastated. She took her responsibility for DJ so seriously that I couldn’t imagine that everything was quite as hunky-dory as she said. But I wouldn’t push matters. Angel would deal with this in a way that was easiest for her. If that meant pushing away her own feelings of loss, that was probably what she needed to do. At least, for now.

  We carried our dishes to the sink. Then, grabbing our jackets and purses, we said good-bye to Mr. Rumblebutt and headed for the elevator. It was time to go to work.

  ON THE SURFACE, Seattle was a beautiful city. Over the years it had grown into its nickname—the Emerald City. Set on Puget Sound, it was a major port for the country and an international hub, airport-wise.

  A mix of old buildings amidst gleaming new ones, the city was as diverse as a box of crayons. It was a high-tech magnet, and yet there was a startling level of poverty in the city. Rents were steep, and for every penthouse owned by some computer guru, there were two-bedroom apartments filled with families of eight or nine people, trying to make ends meet.

  There was a sector of homeless transients, as well. Tent cities cropped up here and there, some by the freeways, some under the numerous overpasses that connected suburb to suburb. For a long time, people had protested their existence. But when the recession continued, the arguments faded and the transitory neighborhoods became just one more fact of life. The rich moved to the suburbs on the northern outskirts, or over to the Eastside, and the core of Seattle—its heart—was left to the lower classes.

  I took Greenwood Avenue, southbound, until it turned into Phinney. Then I followed Phinney until we hit Thirty-fourth, where I turned left. From there it was an easy hop onto Fremont Avenue and over the bridge to the Queen Anne area. Another fifteen minutes of stop-and-go traffic saw us down to First Avenue, where I pulled into a parking garage across from the address Herne had given us.

  The streets in downtown Seattle were wide, riddled with potholes, and notorious for their awkward placement. But the city felt like home, and the multitude of beautiful old brick buildings and tree-lined streets were in direct juxtaposition to how gritty the city could feel on bleak days in midwinter. As I eased into the parking garage, I grimaced when I saw the rates, but the skies opened and a hard spring rain began to pound down and I was grateful we weren’t parking on the street three or four blocks away.

  “Well, at least we’re only across the street from the Wild Hunt. We won’t have far to walk in this mess.” I eased into a parking stall, and pulled out my credit card. “Let me pay for the afternoon and then let’s get going.”

  Now that we were actually here, some of my excitement had worn off. I was more nervous than anything else. I kept telling myself that if it was really bad, we could nullify our agreement and take our chances.

  Angel and I dashed through the rain, weaving through the pedestrian traffic that filled the sidewalks. A lot of the small boutiques that used to line the streets were gone, and now a profusion of neighborhood markets and delis took their place, along with the brothels that had become so popular. They catered to the fetish personality, each one offering a specialized service. I averted my eyes from one with the name of “Spank-o-Rama” as we passed by. I had my own kinks, but that wasn’t one of them.

  The Wild Hunt Agency was in a five-story brick walk-up. There was an elevator, but an out of service sign was plastered across it.

  “Wouldn’t you know it? He’s four flights up.”

  “Of course.” Angel grinned. “Quit complaining and start climbing stairs. It’s good for you.”

  The Wild Hunt Agency took the entire fourth floor.

  As we exited the stairs, we found ourselves in the lobby of a spacious waiting room. There was a desk in the center, facing the elevator, and a seating area to the right, with a leather sofa and several upholstered chairs. A water cooler sat in the corner, along with a couple large plants in vivid blue porcelain urns.

  There were two doors on the wall behind the desk, a window that overlooked the city streets to the left, and against the right wall, a hallway led further back into the agency. The brick walls were clean, and the lighting was bright, giving an airy feel to the reception room. It was a pleasant surprise, considering how old and grimy the building had looked outside.

  We crossed to the desk, but there was no one behind it. Instead, a bell sat on the edge, with a sign propped next to it that read, please ring for service.

  I glanced around. There was no one in sight, so I reached out and tapped the bell. A loud chime reverberated through the room, louder than I expected.

  “I’m surprised there isn’t somebody waiting for us.” I craned my neck, trying to see around the corner down the hallway, but we were too far from it. I decided it wouldn’t be polite to go snooping just yet.

  Just then, the door directly behind the desk opened, and Herne entered the waiting room. He shut the door behind him, and when he saw us he broke out into a smile.

  He certainly didn’t look as messy as he had the night before. His hair was smoothed back into a ponytail, and though he still had the closely cropped beard, it looked like he had trimmed it. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a suit jacket with leather patches on the elbows. Beneath the jacket, he wore an olive green sweater with a V-neck, and he had a bronze necklace around his throat, but from this distance I couldn’t tell what the pendant was. He looked just as good as I remembered him looking last night.

  He was carrying a file folder, and when he saw us he closed it. “Welcome to the Wild Hunt. I’m glad you actually showed up.” His eyes were twinkling as he said it, but there was a serious note to his voice.

  “Has anybody actually not shown up who said they would?” Somehow, it had never occurred to me to stand up a god.

  “Actually, yes. Several people. They were in similar situations as you, and unfortunately, they decided to bail on me.” He sat on the corner of the desk, dropping the file folder by the laptop.

  “What happened to them?” Angel asked.

  “They vanished. Unfortunately, people who make enemies of the Fae often do.” He shrugged, then stood and straightened his jacket. “So are you ready to get to work?”

  I nodded. “I guess we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. But you haven’t told us what we’re going to be doing.”

  “Well, as you can tell there’s nobody manning the reception desk. Our last receptionist left the agency to have a baby and she’s decided to stay home. Angel, I thought you would be best suited at being our new receptionist. Your ability to read people will be a great help.”

  “How did you know that I’m able to read people?” Angel gave him a suspicious look.

  He
snickered. “Being the son of a god has its perks. I knew right away that you have precognitive abilities. I’m able to sense such things. But when I was doing research on Ember, you came up as her best friend.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “So of course, you researched my background?”

  “Of course. And given what happened with your brother, I’m glad that I did. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have been able to move so quickly on getting him into a sanctuary house. By the way, over the next few weeks, I need both of you to acquaint yourselves with all the sanctuary stops around the city. And that includes the Eastside as well. You’ll have to have that information at the tip of your fingers should the client need it—and that goes beyond the scope of our dealings with the Fae. But we can go into that a little later.”

  I was beginning to realize that we weren’t just going to be poking our nose into the skirmishes between Light and Dark. It sounded like the Wild Hunt dealt with a number of life and death situations.

  “So, Angel, this will be your station. Ember, I’ve decided to put you out on the front with us. You’ll be assisting us with cases. Your background as a freelance bounty hunter will fit right in for that. You already know how to research and track. You’ll have to learn our procedures, of course, but that’s just a matter of memorization. For now, come meet the rest of the team.”

  He motioned for us to follow him.

  I wasn’t sure why, but I hadn’t expected there to be a “team”—which seemed ridiculous, when I thought about it. He couldn’t work alone, not and run an agency like this. But for some reason I hadn’t gone so far as to wonder who else we’d be working with.

  He led us around the corner, into the hallway that I had been curious about. It ran back about fifty feet to an end wall, with three doors on the right side, and one door at the end on the left, near the end. He led us to the first door on the right. The frosted glass pane in the upper half of the door was stenciled with the words break room on it. He turned the knob, and led us in.