Red (19 page)
Nate gave a tight nod. “Like I said, I fit a certain profile.”
“And how did you find out about us?” I asked, my voice strained.
“I literally stumbled upon you.” Nate turned toward me, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them, deeper somehow, and filled with that same pain and longing I’d caught a glimpse of once before. “I knew this was where I needed to be.”
I didn’t know how to respond to his revelation. Part of me wanted to say it didn’t matter a damn where he’d come from and what he’d been before. All that mattered was what he was now. But another part of me was angry as hell for having been led to believe he was something he wasn’t. Of course, that seemed to be a running theme when it came to the people I cared about. Why should Nate be any different?
Indecision and confusion still plaguing me, I decided to do what I did every time I found myself in a situation that threatened to make me feel more emotion than I would have liked.
Without another word, I put the Rover in gear and pulled back into traffic.
“Red?”
“Yeah?”
“We okay?”
I gave Nate an indifferent shrug. “Sure. Yeah.”
“It doesn’t change anything, you know,” Nate assured me. “I’m still your partner. Your friend.”
“Okay.”
“You asked, remember?”
I gave him a tight nod. “Yep.”
“I can’t change my past but, trust me, I paid the price for what I did.” He jerked up his sleeve, revealing the tattoos on his forearms. “My penance? Having these seared not just into my skin but into my soul. And it’s done slowly, painfully. You think a burn on your skin is agonizing, try a burn to your soul.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what he’d been through—it made my heart ache far too much and I wanted to stay pissed for a while longer. “You were forced to be an assassin,” I told him. “I understand that. You’re not that person anymore—obviously.”
“You’re upset because I’m not a true Tale?” he cried. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I was worried about confessing about having been an assassin, and you’re shitty because I used to be an
Ordinary
?”
Ordinary
?”
I shot him a furious look, my betrayed feelings bubbling up whether I liked it or not. “You lied to me,” I spat. “You lied to all of us. You made us believe you’re something you’re not!”
“And what about you, ‘Red’?” he asked, complete with finger quotes around my name.
My brows snapped together. “Excuse me?”
“You pretend to be this rough, tough, ass-kicking Enforcer,” he explained evenly, his tone maddeningly condescending. “But beneath it all you’re just a scared little girl who’s still running from the Big Bad Wolf.”
If we hadn’t been driving down the road at breakneck speed, I would have clocked the son of a bitch. Instead, I jerked the wheel to the right and skidded to a halt, sending up a roiling cloud of gravel and dust.
“Get out,” I ordered, my grip tightening on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.
Nate sighed and removed his fedora so that he could run a hand through that midnight black hair of his. “Tess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Get. The Fuck. Out.”
He cast a crestfallen look my way, then opened the door and climbed out. I didn’t even wait for him to slam the door closed before I peeled out, leaving him standing there by the side of the road.
I was pulling into a parking spot down the street from Seth’s restaurant twenty minutes later before I realized my cheeks were wet with furious tears. Damn Nate for daring to challenge my image of him and damn him again for what he’d said about
me
. I don’t know what pissed me off more—that he saw right through me, or that I cared enough about that to actually cry.
me
. I don’t know what pissed me off more—that he saw right through me, or that I cared enough about that to actually cry.
Disgusted with myself for devolving into a bullshit emotional wreck, I slammed my palms against the steering wheel and let out a loud scream.
On the sidewalk, a woman walking her dog glanced my way, then quickened her pace, obviously anxious to put as much distance between herself and the deranged lunatic screaming her lungs out in the dilapidated Range Rover.
I hastily wiped my tears and took a few deep breaths, trying to get a grip. I had to get it together. The last thing the FMA needed right now was me bringing down a shitload of attention on the Tales because I couldn’t deal. Oh, yeah, Al would
love
that. As if he didn’t have enough of my bullshit to put up with on a daily basis, now I was going to give him one more mess to clean up?
love
that. As if he didn’t have enough of my bullshit to put up with on a daily basis, now I was going to give him one more mess to clean up?
Screw that.
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror and, after confirming that my eyes and nose weren’t so swollen that I should consider moonlighting with Ringling Brothers, I got out of the car and headed toward the steak house where Seth was the executive chef.
As my fingers closed around the heavy brass handle of the restaurant’s door, my stomach twisted painfully. I swallowed hard and pulled, telling myself that the aching feeling deep in my gut was merely due to the fact that I was so damned hungry. And as I stepped across the threshold and caught the delectable aroma of charred meat, I almost believed it.
Chapter 23
The waitress who came to my table took one look at me and whirled around, scurrying in the opposite direction.
Well, damn.
I’d really been looking forward to a nice filet, too.
With an irritated huff, I hurried after her, catching her just as she was about to burst into the kitchen and announce my presence. “Hi, there,” I said, putting on my best fake smile. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”
She glanced around frantically, then gave me a pleading look. “He’s not here,” she whispered. “Please, don’t make a scene. I need this job.”
“They don’t know you’re sleeping with Seth?” I asked loudly.
She looked like she wanted to sink through the floor. “I’m not sleeping with Seth!” she hissed. “He just let me stay at his place as a favor.”
The look I gave her clearly conveyed my disbelief.
“Look, are you hungry?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
She glanced around again. “I have a break coming up. Go back to your table and I’ll bring you something—on the house.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to look as menacing as possible. “How do I know you’re not going to bolt?”
She sighed. “Because Seth is my friend and I think he’s in trouble. You look like the kind of person who could help him.”
I stared at her for a few seconds, trying to figure out exactly how I should take that. In the end, I decided it was probably some kind of compliment. “Okay,” I relented. “But if you’re not out here in five minutes, I’m coming to look for you. And I won’t be quiet about it.”
She nodded and hurried away, so I went back to my table. True to her word, a few minutes later she brought out a filet with steamed veggies and a Caesar salad.
“Here,” she said, sliding the plates in front of me and taking a seat at my elbow. “I wasn’t sure what you’d wanted. I hope this is okay.”
“It’s fine,” I said, lifting my fork. “Thanks.” I ate a few bites of the steak, savoring the special brand of seasoning that was Seth’s signature blend. The moment the first bite hit my tongue, I pictured the simple cabin in the woods near my village where Seth would often roast venison or rabbit or create some other delectable dish for me, sharing glimpses of his soul through the food he created. But it was the night he’d prepared a particularly delicious steak from the gift of beef I’d brought him that I learned the full range of his talents—from the kitchen to the bedroom.
After making her wait for several minutes while I finished off my steak, I finally asked, “What’s your name?”
She gave me a tentative smile. “Molly.”
“Other than the fact that I showed up at Seth’s door looking for him the other day, Molly, what makes you think he’s in trouble?”
She leaned forward a little. “He’s being recruited away from here to go work for that pompous jackass, Todd Caliban.”
I blinked at her, wondering just how much she knew about Seth’s new gig. “Why would that bother you?” I asked. “It sounds like an incredible opportunity. And lucrative, too.”
She waved away my comment. “Seth doesn’t care about the money! He just loves what he does.”
I polished off the veggies and paused to wipe the corner of my mouth with my napkin. “If he’s working in Caliban’s flagship restaurant, he’ll get the chance to really exhibit his talents, put the restaurant on the map in the culinary world.”
“That’s what Seth thought, too,” Molly admitted. “I told him he’d be miserable working with Caliban—that guy’s
such
an asshole to everyone. But Seth says he can get along with anyone.”
such
an asshole to everyone. But Seth says he can get along with anyone.”
Generally true. Unless the village Welcome Wagon showed up loaded with torches and pitchforks, Seth was about the most affable guy you’d ever meet.
“But something’s bothering Seth about the deal,” I guessed.
Molly folded her hands together and fidgeted with the cuticle on her thumb. “Seth told me he was concerned about the investors, that he didn’t trust them. He was worried they’d be too controlling when it came to the actual running of the restaurant that Seth is supposed to manage while Caliban’s filming his show in LA.”
I lifted a shoulder half in agreement. “If these people are sinking a lot of money into Caliban’s future—and Seth’s by extension—I’m guessing they’d have some expectation of involvement.”
Molly’s mouth turned down into a frown. “Within reason,” she returned. “There’s a difference between being involved and being intrusive.”
“No arguments there,” I agreed. “I take it these investors have already been putting on the pressure?”
Molly nodded. “Seth is being told the investors want complete creative control over Caliban’s enterprises—not just his show but all his restaurants as well. But I don’t really think it’s the investors making those demands.”
I lifted my brows. “No? Why’s that?”
“A couple of weeks ago, Seth got into a huge screaming match with that producer of Caliban’s—what’s her name?”
My mouth suddenly went dry. “Sebille,” I supplied, trying to keep my dislike for the woman from seeping into my voice. “Sebille Fenwick.”
Molly gave me a quick nod. “That’s the one.”
“What was the argument about?” I asked.
Molly didn’t bother trying to mask her true opinion of Caliban’s assistant. Her lovely features contorted with disgust as she said, “That bitch had the nerve to demand Seth sign over all the rights to his recipes.”
I blinked at her in disbelief. “What?”
“The original contract stated he’d retain all creative rights to his dishes,” Molly told me, “so Seth told her to piss off.”
“And Sebille didn’t take too kindly to his response,” I filled in.
Molly rolled her eyes. “You can say that again. She was furious. Seth said she threatened him, but he wouldn’t tell me what she said. I imagine it had something to do with contracts and lawsuits.”
I shook my head. “She totally went Ordinary on him,” I muttered under my breath.
Molly gave me a quizzical look. “Pardon?”
I stiffened, reminding myself that I was talking to an outsider.
Unless the FMA intervened in a situation and forced interested parties to settle their differences amicably, Tales tended not to waste time on litigation the way Ordinaries did. You piss off a Tale, you should probably start checking your garden for toads and other harbingers of retribution. Fairies and witches are a dime a dozen and can whip up a quick revenge spell or curse for a few bucks in today’s market.
“So, you think Sebille’s request is just Caliban being a dick and wanting all the glory for himself?” I asked, guiding the topic away from my ill-advised remark.
“I honestly have no idea,” she admitted. “You’d have to ask Seth. I
do
think something else is going on, though—behind the scenes. One of the investors showed up here a few days ago to talk to Seth.”
do
think something else is going on, though—behind the scenes. One of the investors showed up here a few days ago to talk to Seth.”
“Who was it?” I asked around a mouthful of steak. “Did you catch a name?”
“No,” she said. “I’m sorry—Seth didn’t say. But I’d recognize the guy if I saw him again.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t help me a whole lot. I couldn’t exactly start parading a bunch of investors through the restaurant for Molly’s viewing pleasure—for one thing, with the exception of the Sandman, I didn’t know who any of them were.
“So what happened with the investor?” I prompted. “Did Seth have an argument with him, too?”
Molly shook her head. “No. It was a very civilized, polite conversation. But Seth was definitely rattled by the visit. He said the guy warned him that he should be careful, that he was dealing with dangerous people. Seth’s been lying low since then, staying at the apartment most of the time when he’s not at work.”
“How long have
you
been staying at Seth’s apartment?” I asked, trying to keep the hostility out of my voice.
you
been staying at Seth’s apartment?” I asked, trying to keep the hostility out of my voice.
Molly turned her eyes up to the ceiling for a moment, apparently calculating the days on her internal abacus or something, considering how long it was taking. “Two weeks.”
“Are you sure?” I wiped my mouth with the napkin and slid my plate away. “You had to think about it for quite a while.”
“My boyfriend and I had a big fight, and Seth said I could crash on his couch for a while.” She averted her eyes, studying her fingers again. “It’s not the first time I’ve needed a place to stay.”
I leaned forward toward her and rested my elbows on the table. “Molly, has Seth been around while you were staying at his place?”
She gave me a nervous smile. “Of course.”
“If you want me to help him, Molly, I need to know the truth,” I told her quietly. “I need to know if he left home at any point during the last couple of nights.”
Molly shifted a little and glanced toward the tables surrounding us, ensuring no one was listening in. “Okay, he went out a couple of times,” she admitted, adding quickly, “but it was just for a little while! He said he had some things to take care of.”
I felt my very full stomach sinking. “Did you see or hear him come back home?”
Molly opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. She slowly shook her head. “He was there by morning, that’s all I know.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block the headache I felt coming on. It also gave me time to figure out how to ask my next question. “Molly,” I said cautiously, “do you know anything about Seth’s . . .
condition
?”
condition
?”
Molly inhaled sharply, her face going disturbingly pale. After gaping at me for a long moment, she finally nodded, tears filling her eyes. “He suffers so much. He needed someone to talk to.”
“Yeah,” I said, my throat growing tight. “I know.”
“I don’t want anything else to happen to him,” Molly said, her voice cracking.
“Me, either.”
She hastily wiped away a tear that had rebelliously made its way to her cheek. “When I told Seth you’d visited, the look on his face . . . He was in love with you once, wasn’t he?”
I nodded.
The look Molly gave me was so full of longing and heartbreak, I felt like I was looking in a mirror. “What was that like?” she whispered. “To have him love you?”
I blinked at her, wondering how long her love for Seth had tortured her, coloring every aspect of her life. Molly seemed like an intelligent woman and there was no arguing that she was beautiful. I got the sense that she could do anything or be anyone she wanted, but that she was waiting, holding out for something she wasn’t sure would ever materialize. Hope could be both a blessing and a curse. And Molly’s was definitely of the latter variety. Clinging to that cursed hope had bound her to Seth, keeping her right where she was no matter how miserable it made her.
Feeling an unexpected kinship to the Ordinary woman beside me, I squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Seth obviously thinks enough of you to share his secret. He has trusted you with his life, Molly. Tell him how you feel. My guess is he might feel the same way.”
Her face brightened at this and she squeezed my hand back. Then, without another word, she hurried toward a patron just taking his seat. Her smile was so radiant and glowing when she greeted him that he couldn’t help but smile back.
I grinned a little myself as I left the restaurant. As much as it pained me to admit it, I liked Molly. I liked that she loved Seth so much she had the nerve to stand up to me to protect him. And I liked that she had the same disdain for Caliban’s little sergeant-at-arms, Sebille.
At the thought of the woman, my grin turned into a frown.
The more I heard about Sebille Fenwick, the less I trusted her. And the thing that bothered me most was that in all my readings, I’d never come across her name. Even though she obviously was a Tale, I couldn’t place her in any story.
As I headed down the street to where I’d left my Range Rover, I took out my phone, planning to dial headquarters and have the guys run Sebille through the Tale registry. But I hung up the moment the line connected. Putting her name on their radar might raise some flags that I wasn’t quite ready to raise.
No, I’d have to look into this one on my own for now. Problem was, I wasn’t quite sure where to start. I could make a trip to the public library, but it would take days to comb through their stacks without a jumping-off point. What I needed was someone as well-read as I was who could help me brainstorm on Sebille’s possible origins, someone who would enjoy the kind of mental gymnastics of such a challenge. And only one person—or, I should say couple—came to mind.
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