Titanium (Amber trilogy Book 2) Page 4

  ***

  Matteo knocked on Benedict’s bedroom door, while hoping to catch his brother-in-law while he was sober and clear-headed. Since the bedrooms were warded by titanium he couldn’t simply trace inside. Sometimes etiquette was a curse.

  It took a full minute before Benedict appeared in the doorway, stark naked. His body shined with sweat and he was wearing a ridiculous feather scarf thing around his neck. His eyes were blood-shot but almost clear though.

  “You were visited by draconis last night. What did Drake Kincaid want?”

  “Good morning, dear brother.” Benedict waved his arm inside. “Do come inside. Mi casa es tu casa.”

  Matteo swallowed a nasty remark. “No, thanks. It smells of vomit and dead animal inside. As usual.”

  Benedict promptly burped in his face and Matteo wrinkled his nose and stepped back. Any other person he would have turned into ash, but his brother-in-law was an extinguished flame and to be pitied.

  “Sorry,” Benedict yawned, not sounding sorry at all. “Did I step on your hand-made Ferragamos? Afraid the stench will never leave you Armani suit?”

  “You know I’m not much for small talk. Get to the point.”

  “The draconi wants to awaken your promesi.”

  “I already know that,” Matteo clipped impatiently. It had been the sole reason why he had allowed the draconi into his house. Keep your enemies close and all that. “But what did he want from you?”

  Benedict scratched his armpit and leaned against the door frame. “He wanted to know who her phoenix maker was so he could summon him. Apparently he knows that you will never help him.”

  “Tell me you didn’t give him Crassus’ name.”

  Another uninterested yawn. “Why not?”

  “He’s your king. Giving his name to an inferi is treason.”

  “Lola wanted it.” Benedict winked at his shoulder. “She knows Crassus can’t hurt a Kincaid. It would do His Obscene Richness good to cross swords with a more worthy opponent for a change.”

  Dammit. Benedict did this every time. Whenever it suited him he brought up his sister. “Lola hasn’t been around for over four centuries,” he almost growled.

  Benedict blinked. “Of course she is. She’s right…” His eyes grew wide and a faint red appeared around his pupils as he began to understand.

  Matteo wished he had bitten his tongue. Reminding someone of his lost promesi was a major faux pas. This was going to cost him a hundred Roman coins.

  Benedict grabbed the door frame and started to smash his head against the wall until it turned into a bloody mess.

  FIVE

  The voices had returned. This time there were two. One was silky-smooth, the other deep like a bass. Amber’s mood perked up now that she had company. Had anyone ever been this bored before? It was so frustrating to be stuck inside a body that prevented her from communicating.

  “She’s about to start a war and isn’t even aware of it.” It was the silky-smooth voice. A beat later, fingers combed through her hair. “How is it possible that a single woman can be the cause of so much trouble?” he continued. “Remember our plans at the beginning of our final year? We would save up and take over the Oasis. Finally have something that was ours and continue to build from there. As soon as the money came in you would continue to develop your software and we would sell it. But then suddenly everything changed. We lost our focus and why? All in the name of love. The most destructive emotion in the world. I can’t stand to watch Drake following in my mother’s footsteps.”

  Drake. They were talking about the Pained Voice.

  She heard footsteps and then cabinet doors opening and closing.

  “Don’t, Logan,” the other voice warned.

  “She deserves better than the life of brain-dead wasting away in some bed. And we don’t deserve to follow her into phoenix heaven or, in my case, probably phoenix hell.”

  A different voice, with heavier footsteps, approached her bed on the other side.

  “If you pull out those wires, he will never forgive you.”

  What? They were here to kill her? The fire simmering behind her eyelids started to flame up, but they stayed shut. Dammit!

  “You don’t exactly look surprised, Tech Boy. I would almost think you want me to go through with this,” Logan said, a challenge in his voice.

  “If I thought it would make a difference I would choke her myself,” Tech Boy admitted.

  What? Not good. So not good!

  “Then you understand why I’m thinking about it,” Logan said.

  “I do, but Drake wouldn’t.”

  The Pained Voiced immediately rose in her esteem.

  “After a while he would—”

  “Nope. You kill her, brother or not, he will kill you. Remember how he went bonkers at Turnpike, mate.”

  The brother of the Pained Voice wanted to kill her? Speaking about dysfunctional families.

  “It’s past time that he should let her go. He’s only holding on to her out of sheer stubbornness. She’s dead as a doornail, cold as a corpse.”

  Please don’t hold back. I love you too.

  “She’s not exactly cold,” Tech Boy replied. “Technically she’s hibernating. Apparently her kind does that sometimes before they explode and wipe out an entire town. Which would really suck just before my wedding.”

  “So the lovely Cally is back to speaking with you?”

  “Yeah,” Tech Boy replied, sounding relieved. “It wasn’t smart to suggest what you were just about to do. She got really upset with me.”

  “Cally got pissed when you told her you wanted to kill her friend?” Logan asked feigning shock.

  The fiancée of her friend had also considered killing her? Speaking of a dysfunctional friendship. A round face with black-framed glasses flashed before her eyes. Was that Cally?

  “She yelled and tossed her ring at my head. Never knew the little bit could be so loud.”

  It was the bafflement in his voice that had Amber internally shake her head. Men.

  “Women, huh?” Logan sounded like he muffled a laugh.

  “Cally never gets angry with me,” Tech Boy said, clearly still impressed by his fiancée’s reaction.

  “Maybe it’ll help if you told her why you want to do something. Women like it when they think you share your feelings with them and all that crap. It makes them think they’re important to you.”

  Tech Boy growled. “Cally is important to me. And I explained to her that I wanted to put an end to Amber’s suffering.”

  “Just Amber’s?” Logan asked pointedly

  “It would do Drake good as well to reset his life,” Tech Boy admitted.

  She heard some more shuffle of feet and then curtains closing.

  “Unfortunately Drake’s own life is kind of a low priority for him right now,” Logan said, letting out a deep sigh. “His priority is to keep Amber at a safe location. No one can find her here. So, now it’s time for plan B.”

  Someone put something on the foot of her bed and opened a zipper. She heard some taps on a plate—no, wait, a phone. An iPad?

  “This sports pub is where Matteo Lancaster’s pupil spends his Saturday afternoons. Namaka is a die-hard FC Barcelona fan. Look at the picture of his red sports car. It’s a bit flashy for my taste, but it must be a wicked drive.” Tech Boy sounded wistful.

  “Does he arrive and leave alone? Do we have enough time to nab him before he traces away?”

  “No social media accounts. Strange.”

  “A teenager without Facebook and Twitter? The horror.”

  “Lucky for us his phone is full of pictures and messages. If people knew what any good hacker could discover from just reading their phone… Apparently Namaka can’t trace yet since he hasn’t Flamed yet. Guess it’s a phoenix thing.”

  “So he uses his car not to just show off but because he actually needs it,” Logan mused. “It looks like FC Barcelona is gonna get his ass kicked by the Gunners.”

  “We love
you, Arsenal!” Tech Boy hollered.

  They had stepped from casually plotting her death to football? The nerve! Wait. How did she know this? She didn’t even like football. Did she?

  Ian.

  Her heart started to race when a face formed before her eyes. Blond, dimples, and twinkling, blue eyes. She remembered him.

  My brother.

  SIX

  The scent of chicken tikka masala hit him when Drake walked into the White Shark that night and sat at a table. The back alley pub looked better than the last time he’d been there. The blue walls were still decorated in a marine theme–varying from a stuffed white shark to shells in all shapes and sizes–but it was a lot cleaner. The old-fashioned wooden tables had been replaced by chrome ones and the bar was a silvery beacon of light showing a sunset in the sea.

  His prey sat at the bar with a pint in his hand. Drake ordered a drink and took another glance from the picture on his phone to the man at the bar. James Smith had a pasty skin with pores as large as craters. Like any other male pixie he had broad shoulders and large, beefy arms. Arms as deadly as the grip of a boa constrictor if he got his hands on you. It had only been a few weeks since he’d chosen Somerset as his new home. He was also the asshole who had tried to kidnap Amber.

  Drake thought back at the conversation with his friend about the re-opened pub. “I installed the cameras and the security system,” Benn had said. “Got to say I was paid better than back when Zacharias owned the place.”

  “Who’s the new owner?” Drake had asked. No place in Somerset that was managed by supes escaped Kincaid’s attention. He’d wondered who Kincaid had deemed fit to entrust the pub to. After all, the place did so much more than just serve pub food. Supes of all galore visited the pub. Even pompous ass Malcolm Fitch frequented the place from time to time to place a bet. No doubt escaping Aunt Elizabeth’s bitching was a powerful incentive. Drake couldn’t blame the bloke.

  “Haven’t the foggiest, mate. I came, I installed, and I could afford a ring. That’s all I needed to know,” had been Benn’s reaction.

  Drake looked at his watch. It was three minutes before midnight. According to Benn, Smith came here every Saturday just before midnight and stayed until the early morning.

  As if he’d been waiting for the clock to hit midnight, Smith slid from his bar stool and disappeared behind the door leading to the back room. Drake waited half an hour before he followed him. His mind went back to the events in the pub on that fatal winter’s night over a year ago. It hurt reminiscing about his best friend, whom he had lost on that night.

  The bouncer guarding the back door was Gold Teeth, the massive dragon with a permanent frown etched on his face. Apparently he hadn’t followed his former employer, Zacharias, into his exile.

  “The buy-in is twenty quid,” he growled.

  Drake paid and stepped through the door leading into a packed room filled with round tables. His eyes scanned the room where you wouldn’t find any humans. Smith sat across the table to the manager’s office. Ian O’Neill sat opposite him. He wasn’t surprised to see Amber’s brother in this gambling hole, but it was a complication he didn’t need. He plopped down on the only available seat, across from Smith. Ian’s reaction was exactly as he had expected.

  The dryad slammed his cards on the table. “I’m not bloody playing with you,” he hissed. It earned them quizzical looks from the other players at the table.

  This time Drake didn’t have the patience for him. “I don’t give a fuck who you play with, O’Neill,” he said and threw some money on the table. “I’m not in the mood for one of your rants.”

  Ian cursed. The scraping sound of the chair echoed loudly throughout the room as he rose.

  Gold Teeth stood by his side in a heartbeat, his hands already formed into claws. “Problem?”

  The dryad next to Ian gave him a warning look. “Sit down, Ian,” he said softly.

  Ian combed a hand through his head, his chest heaving. “How can you say that, Seth? This asshole is the reason my sister’s lying in a hospital. He’s the reason my life’s a mess. His brother has killed your mother, though them dragons will never admit it. He has–”

  The bouncer put a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “I don’t give a fuck. The new boss has new rules. No fighting inside.”

  Ian pulled himself loose and put on his jacket.

  Drake stayed put, keeping his face blank. Nobody knew that Seth’s mother, Nurse Croft, had been a pawn in Kincaid’s power play to take out Logan and get a stranglehold on Drake. It didn’t matter that Logan was acquitted of the murder of Croft. The dryads would never believe in his innocence as long as the true killer hadn’t been found.

  Seth Croft rose from his chair and send him an apologetic look, as if he was ashamed of Ian’s outburst. Or perhaps it was for the fact that Ian blamed everyone, except himself, for screwing up his life.

  “Not so fast, O’Neill,” Gold Teeth said. “You still have an open debt. Your thirty days are up.”

  Ian turned crimson, and after a last scowl towards Drake, he followed Gold Teeth to the manager’s office.

  “Enough with the drama, lads,” Smith said. He scooped up the deck and started to shuffle. “Time to play.”

  Drake neither had Logan’s patience or his poker face and had gone through his money within a few hours. For the rest of the night he ordered drinks until last call. Smith eventually left the pub through the back door. Drake followed him on the foot to the abandoned parking lot. There were only two cars left, and a few trash containers.

  He waited until Smith had grabbed his keys and then made his move. He threw a punch at him, smacking the pixie against his car and onto the ground.

  “I didn’t take you for a sore loser, mate,” the pixie said angrily.

  The wanker thought Drake wanted his money back. “Keep your poker money. I’m here for something else.” He formed his hands into claws, ready to rumble.

  Immediately Smith’s skin turned into a shield-like shell. He made a challenging gesture with his hand.

  Oh, it was on. Drake was in the mood for some bloodshed. He stormed off to the pixie and Smith tried to grab him, but Drake managed to evade his grasp. As long as he stayed out of Smith’s deadly grip, he’d be safe. It would take some time to claw his way through the tough exterior of the pixie’s skin. Luckily for him it made the pixie slower than Drake. He ducked beneath Smith’s arm and kicked him right in the nuts. The pixie groaned in pain, and then started to scream for help.

  “Yell all you want. There’s no one here at this hour,” Drake pointed out. “Not that it would matter. No one can save you from me.”

  Smith nervously cleared his throat. “Are you sure I’m the one you’re after, mate? I haven’t been around in Somerset long enough to piss anyone off. In fact, I was about to leave this place. For good.”

  “Amber O’Neill,” Drake spat at him and he saw Smith pale. “You tried to kidnap her from the hospital. There’s no use in denying it. I’ve seen the security feed.”

  Smith pressed his back against his car as if in an attempt to support himself. “Shit.”

  Drake pointed at Smith’s throat. “Shit, indeed.”

  The pixie swallowed. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was just supposed to get her out and be paid. He said that no one would miss her.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Can’t tell you, mate. Never saw his face.”

  “I will rip out your eyeballs and shove them through your throat if you don’t give me a name.”

  Smith looked over Drake’s shoulder and heaved a sigh of relief. “Help me! He’s attacked me!”

  A shiver went down Drake’s spine. Someone rushed past him and appeared on Smith’s side. He froze when he saw the tell-tale army print cargo pants, black leather jacket, and ponytail. It was a face he hadn’t seen for over a year. “Ravi,” he greeted his best friend. “You’re free.” He immediately regretted his last remark.

  Ravi’s charcoal eyes started to glow,
sparking with fury that cast a glow over his olive skin. “No thanks to you, Kincaid. No bloody thanks to you.”

  Drake tightened when Ravi used his new last name. His tone was hard, just like his eyes that were spitting fire.

  Smith ashened. “You’re the Kincaid from Turnpike.” He turned to Ravi, a pleading look in his eyes. “He’s attacked me, Sengupta. You won’t let him treat a visitor of your fine establishment like that, will you?”

  Only then it registered on Drake what Ravi was doing here. He was the new owner of the White Shark. His friend had left the Catacombs but hadn’t paid him a visit. He knew that Ravi’s imprisonment could put a strain on their relationship, but to be completely ignored by him?

  Ravi’s eyes turned to the pixie. “No, I won’t let him treat someone who owes me money and just admitted he wanted to split like that.” He grabbed Smith and with one twist of his claws he ripped Smith’s head off and dropped it on the pavement like garbage. “I’ll finish him myself.”

  “Dammit, Ravi! I needed him.”

  Ravi sent him an ice-cold look. “That’s Sengupta for you, Kincaid. I’m only on a first-name basis with friends.”

  “We are friends!” Drake cried out, frustrated. “You can’t blame me for not looking you up in the Catacombs. No one even knows where you can find them.”

  “You’re right.” Ravi pulled a phone from his pocket, pushed in some buttons and them gave him his undivided attention. “Nobody knows where the Catacombs lie and no, I didn’t expect for you to find out its place. What I did expect was for you to do everything in your power to get your bloody grandfather to free me. That’s the first thing they teach you there, by the way: to lose all hope.”

  Drake gave him a pained look. “Kincaid wouldn’t have helped me.” In hindsight, Drake should have known that his grandfather had been behind the surprise raid at the pub, resulting in Ravi’s deportation to the hellish prison. His grandfather had tried to do the same with Logan, in an attempt to isolate Drake from his friends.

  The back door of the pub opened and Gold Teeth stepped out, crossing the parking lot until he loomed over Smith’s body.