Fireborn

CHAPTER 15

Rory met us at the fence line and, between the two of us, we managed to get Jackson over the fence and into the car without too much further damage to his half-healed arm and leg.

“Where to?” Rory said as he retrieved the keys from under the wheel arch.

“I don’t know.” I ran a trembling hand through my matted hair. “We need to go somewhere safe and regroup. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

“No, it’s not,” Jackson said from inside the car. “But there’s little we can do here. You might as well come back to my office, so we can decide where we go from here.”

I glanced at Rory, who raised his eyebrow and shrugged. “Right now, it’s as good an idea as any. But you and I will need to go home sometime this evening.”

Yes, we would, if only so he could recharge. Though I’d called on the earth mother’s power myself, it had been only briefly. Rory had drawn on her energy for a far longer period and, though he hadn’t said anything, his skin was pale and the heat emanating from his body was muted.

We climbed into the car and headed back to the city. I flipped the vanity mirror down and kept an eye on the road behind us. But darkness was rapidly closing in, and it was damn difficult to distinguish cars that might be following us from cars that were simply going in the same direction. In the end, I gave up.

Thankfully, we arrived at Jackson’s without further incident. Together we helped him inside. Though he didn’t say anything, he was trembling by the time we deposited him on the sofa at the far end of his office.

“Right,” I said, rolling up my sleeves. “We all need to eat before anything else happens. Rory, you arrange drinks for everyone, and I’ll rustle up some grub.”

I ran up the stairs and raided Jackson’s fridge, ending up with a big platter of chicken, a variety of cheeses, and some bread that I’d roughly cut into thick slabs. I carried it down and placed it on the coffee table, grabbing a chicken leg and chunk of bread for myself before retreating to one of the chairs.

“So,” I said, once everyone else had helped themselves. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“That,” Jackson said heavily, “depends very much on what the sindicati decide to do next. They have the laptop, so maybe they’ll walk away and leave us be.”

“They may have the laptop,” Rory said, “but they won’t have the files they wanted. A Trojan will destroy all of them the next time it’s booted up.”

“Good move.” Jackson finished his wine in several large gulps, then held it out for Rory to refill. “But it’s one that will surely piss them off.”

“Better to piss them off than give them Mark’s notes.” I grimaced. “But it may not mean anything, given Baltimore has walked out of the morgue and disappeared into Brooklyn.”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “He was infected?”

“Apparently. God knows when it happened.”

“Damn it. That means the red cloaks have both of the scientists who were working on the cure for that fucking virus. That can’t be a good thing for the rest of us.”

“No,” I agreed. “And it’s made worse by the fact that—if tonight is any indication—the sindicati are now working with the cloaks.”

“Which doesn’t make sense. I mean, from what your ex said, vampires can be infected as easily as humans. Why the hell would they work with the people who cannot only give them the disease, but who now control the only two men capable of finding its cure? Wouldn’t it make more sense to try to grab the research and scientists for themselves?”

“The sindicati are nothing if not opportunists,” Rory said, voice grim. “They probably see more benefit in working with the cloaks to gain a cure than working against them and risk infection and possible subjugation.”

“If that’s the case,” I said, “why the farce tonight? The cloaks have the scientists, so if they are working together, they don’t need the notes. And if they simply wanted to kill us, they could have done so when they had us all tied up in that damn room.”

“The sindicati may be opportunists,” Rory said, “but they are also backstabbing bastards. If the cloaks trust them to uphold whatever deal they’ve made, then they’re fools.”

And whatever—whoever—that gray-cowled figure was, I doubted he was a fool.

Perhaps our next move should be trying to uncover what, exactly, those plans were—although that wasn’t likely to be an easy task. If Sam and PIT were having trouble locating the people behind the cloaks, what the hell made me think we’d have any greater luck?

We wouldn’t—except for the fact that the gray-cowled figure had revealed himself in the forest. I had a feeling that was something he’d not done before.

Of course, just because Sam had said they had no idea who was behind the cloaks didn’t mean he’d actually been telling the truth.

“Sam did mention that the sindicati were having factional problems,” I said. “It’s possible that has something to do with the vamps working with the cloaks.”

“Only if one of the factions has decided it needs help to oust the other, and that would be very rare,” Jackson noted. “They tend to just slaughter one another and then start anew with whoever is left.”

“But what would the red cloaks get out of the deal?” Rory asked. “As far as I can see, there’s nothing the sindicati can give them that they can’t just take by infecting them.”

Jackson shrugged. “It could be something as simple as not having the manpower they need at the present time, thanks to the fact that the virus makes most of those infected mad.”

“It only makes them mad if they’re infected by one of the rotten ones.” I tossed my chicken bone onto the platter and grabbed a bit of cheese to munch on. “Otherwise, it just wipes out free will and replaces it with a hive mentality.”

“Whatever the hell is really going on,” Jackson commented, “the fact remains that neither party is going to be happy with us after this evening’s events. There will be reprisals. Everything else might be up for conjecture, but that is fact.”

“Actually, they’ll be coming after you two.” Rory waved a bit of bread at the two of us. “Me, they don’t know about as yet—and it might be wise to keep it that way.”

“An emergency backup,” Jackson commented. “I like it.”

My gaze met Rory’s, and he smiled. We both knew it was a bit more than that—him stepping back meant life could go on for the both of us if the very worst happened. I might have been reborn more times than I could now remember, but I wasn’t tired of life just yet—even if I was getting more than a little pissed off with our whole “love will go sour” lot in life.

“What it does mean,” Rory said, “is that you two may need to watch each other’s backs.”

“And I,” Jackson said, a gleam in his eyes, “have the perfect way to do that.”

“Oh, yeah?” I said, not trusting that gleam for an instant. “And that would be what, exactly?”

“This.” He airily indicated the room around us.

I grinned. “I’m not moving in with you. As I explained, Rory and I need—”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” He paused. “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you occasionally stayed here. No sane man is ever likely to reject the possibility of great sex—and certainly no Fae ever did.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant Hellfire Investigations.” His expression was serious, the gleam giving way to determination. “As I mentioned earlier, I’ve been looking for someone to work with for a while, and if the last few days have proven anything, it’s that we work well together.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s a bad idea to sleep with employees?”

“I don’t sleep with employees. Well, I don’t anymore—not after I ended up in court fighting harassment charges.” He grinned. “Partners, however, are an entirely different matter.”

“Only a Fae would think there’s a difference,” Rory commented, voice dry.

“Well, there is. We’d be on equal standing, rather than in a superior-subordinate situation.”

I stared at him for a moment, then said, “Are you serious?”

“Totally.” He leaned forward and caught my hand. “I’ve got so much work, I’m having to turn potential clients away. I really do need help.”

I had to admit, the thought of becoming an investigator certainly had my blood racing. As Rory had noted before this whole mess had begun, I wasn’t usually one to put up with a staid life for very long. But this would be two lifetimes in a row I’d done something dangerous—and joining forces with Jackson against those who would hunt us down was certainly that—and it was supposedly Rory’s turn to live on the edge this time around.

Not that he’d actually taken up the option beyond becoming a fireman.

I bit my lip and glanced at him. He smiled at my unasked question and said, “I’d feel a whole lot better if you were working here rather than off somewhere else where there’s no one to watch your back.”

I returned my gaze to Jackson’s. “So, full partner? Done legally, with me buying a percentage of the business?”

“Fifty-fifty, and everything legal,” he agreed. “With a cooling-off period of thirty days, just to be safe.”

I hesitated, then grinned. “You have yourself a deal. And a partner.”

Jackson grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled all our glasses.

“To Hellfire Investigations,” he said, raising his glass. “Long may we prosper.”

“To Hellfire,” I echoed, and clinked my glass against theirs.

And knew, even as I drank the wine, that it wasn’t prosperity we had to worry about.

It was survival.