Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (27 page)

A huge smoker, vented to the outside, took up the entire back wall of the kitchen, pumping out heat as they squeezed past. Kiernan tucked her against the concrete wall, keeping her as far from the hot metal of the smoker as possible. It wouldn’t have hurt her, but the thought was nice. Opposite the door, a long line of heavy iron pots bubbled on the stove, sending fragrant steam into the room. Sorcha’s mouth watered. A heavyset woman, her short, gray hair curled tight from the heat of the stove, looked up from stirring a pot of greens. Her face lit up, a wide smile revealing a brilliant gold tooth.

“Kiernan! Chuck said you’d be in. He’s got the back room set up for you. You two know what you want?”

“Hey, Betsy. Two platters of the pulled pork. You pick the sides.” To Sorcha, he said, “Trust me, Betsy’ll set us up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sorcha said. As long as the woman gave her some of anything cooking in this room, Sorcha would be happy. Her stomach rumbled again, sending her cheeks into another flush.

“We won’t make you wait,” Betsy said.

Sorcha gave the woman a little wave as Kiernan pulled her out the kitchen door, down a short hall, and into a dim, wood-paneled room. Cameron already sat at the long, battered pine table, a drink in his hand. A pitcher of what looked like iced tea sat in the middle of the table. Kiernan poured them both glasses, then pulled out a seat on his right for Sorcha. He took the one to the left, neatly separating her from Cameron. Cameron was dressed in jeans and an untucked button-down, his mysterious aura far more restrained than it had been at the club.

“What’s up?” Kiernan asked Cameron. “What couldn’t you tell me over the phone?”

“A few things. First, did you know you two have a tail?”

“That depends,” Kiernan said. “Who’s the tail?”

“No visual,” Cameron said. “It’s a male. Not young. But he’s cagey. We can’t get eyes on him, but he’s everywhere you are. So odds are, he’s got eyes on you.”

“You’re watching us?” Kiernan asked. Sorcha couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed.

Cameron only shrugged, a half smile on his face. Then he said, “You know who it is?”

“Probably. We had a run-in with the Sicarius sent after Conner.”

At that, Cameron straightened in his chair. “That could be it. Which Sicarius?”

“Aiden Mackensie,” Kiernan answered.

Cameron let out a low whistle and shook his head. “He let you walk away?”

“Hey,” Kiernan said, leaning back in his chair, sounding offended. Now Sorcha really couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “I haven’t done anything wrong. That they can prove,” he amended.

“Either way, you’d better hope Mackensie gets a line on Conner, or decides you’re not a threat. If he shifts you to an active target, you’re fucked.”

“Yeah, we know. Tell me something new.”

“Something’s way off with Michael,” Cameron said. “I’m a little embarrassed I’m only now picking up on this.”

“Your sources are usually on top of everything going on around here. You getting too relaxed?”

“Maybe,” Cameron said and sighed. “Not anymore. You Warders have kept it clean in Charlotte. Michael’s low profile. There didn’t seem to be much to look for.”

“And now?”

“My guy who keeps tabs on the Warders finally tracked him down. Said he’s been slippery. The ‘turning a corner and vanishing’ kind of slippery. And he feels off. Not like a normal Warder.”

“What does that mean?” Kiernan asked, sounding annoyed. “I don’t know what a Warder
feels
like. We don’t work that way.”

Sorcha thought that was her cue to jump in. She leaned forward, catching Cameron’s eye. “I don’t know what you get off them, but to me, the Warders feel like cool metal run through with strength. As if a muscle were made of steel.”

“Yes,” Cameron said, raising one eyebrow. “Exactly like that. Alive, but so solid they’re more than flesh and bone. More fluid than stone. Like living metal. And now I’m very curious about you.”

“How about this,” Sorcha said, leaning back, angling her body so she was slightly behind Kiernan. She wasn’t worried for herself, but Kiernan had been getting more tense with every word she shared with Cameron. “I won’t get too curious about you, and you do the same for me.”

“That’s probably wise,” Cameron said with a nod. “Unfortunate, but wise. So Warders like our friend here are usually cool and solid, like living metal. Michael has always felt like a normal Warder. Not anymore.”

“How is he different?” Sorcha asked. “Is it something a Warder would notice?”

“I doubt it. A Warder can feel Vorati. And a few other things. Like lies. But this is subtler. Like there’s something hiding inside him. Michael still has the living metal feel on the surface, but it isn’t solid. Now it’s as if there’s something inside the metal. Something very wrong. Almost like—” Cameron’s mouth snapped shut.

Kiernan pushed his chair back a little, then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Say it,” Kiernan said, his voice harsh. “Almost like what?”

“The man I have on Michael said it almost felt like he was infected. With a Voratus. Which is impossible.”

Kiernan dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed his palms over his eyes. “Fuck,” he said through his spread fingers. “Fuck me.” He straightened and took one of Sorcha’s hands, like he was searching for some kind of comfort or support.

Instinct had Sorcha sending out calming energy, using her empathy to smooth his roughened edges. She might not have been able to feel Kiernan’s emotions the way she could others, but she seemed to know what he needed without directly feeling everything he did. Before he could speak, a quick knock hit the door.

“Come in,” Cameron said.

They all sat up, on edge. The door swung open to reveal Betsy from the kitchen, carrying a loaded tray of food. All three of them relaxed, but only slightly. Catching their mood, Betsy tensed as she put the tray on the table and left in silence. Sorcha felt like she needed a mental shower to cleanse away the clinging, acrid anxiety in the room. Kiernan passed out the plates of food. Sorcha dug in. This conversation wasn’t going to get any simpler. And she was starving. Everything was better with a full stomach.

Kiernan and Cameron ignored the food, staring at each other. Fleetingly, Sorcha wished she knew what they were thinking. If they’d been human, she could have dipped her mind into theirs to pick out their thoughts. Not that she would have…but she could. A Shadow would have been harder than a human, but it would have still been possible. Warder minds were heavily shielded. With the exception of Kiernan, she got plenty of emotion from Warders, but direct thoughts were hidden. After what she’d seen at the club, Sorcha wasn’t even going to try to touch Cameron’s mind. She’d have to stick with emotion. And the emotions in the room weren’t telling her anything. They were both anxious and pissed off, but she could see that right on their faces.

“You’re not surprised,” Cameron said, finally. “Not really. I expected you to agree that it’s impossible for a Warder, a Director, to be infected. Instead, you just look pissed.”

“Fuck,” Kiernan said again. “Pissed doesn’t cover it.” He lifted a hand and set it on Sorcha’s back, stroking absently up her spine.

She felt it then, her empathy automatically extending out to him. Soothing him, easing his stress. He probably didn’t even realize he’d reached for her in need of comfort. She sure as hell wasn’t responding on purpose. It was like he had a direct link with her talent. Kiernan didn’t need her to decide to help him. He could help himself. With anyone else, that might piss her off. Not with Kiernan. At least, not now.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” Kiernan said. “I’ve heard things. Nothing solid. But one of our Sicari swore his brother was infected. There was reason to think he might have been mistaken. But now it’s starting to look like he was right.”

“And where is this Sicarius?” Cameron asked.

“He dropped out of sight. I’ve left him a few messages, but I haven’t heard back. I may not. I’m fairly sure he’s alive, but he’s out of contact. Hannah said Michael was working with a Voratus in the lab. So it’s not a huge stretch to think he might have been infected. They must have a way of hiding it.”

“They’d have to,” Cameron said. “My guy saw him walk right into the Citadel. He couldn’t do that if he were infected like a human.”

“Alexa saw him in person last week. She would have mentioned if he’d felt off. Or maybe not. I’ll ask her.”

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” Cameron said, poking a fork at his pulled pork. “I told myself you’d laugh me out of the building. That it had to be something else.”

Contradicting his words, Cameron started to eat. Kiernan followed suit. For a few minutes, the room was silent except for the scrape of their forks on their plates. Sorcha finished first. Now that her body wasn’t starving for calories, she could think clearly about their conversation. She hadn’t considered Michael being infected. It was an insane idea, but possible. If he was, how did that affect her germ of a plan? Would it still work?

The truth was, she had no idea. It was a risk. All day, she’d been trying to work up the nerve to mention her idea to Kiernan. The way he watched her, protective, scanning their surroundings for any threat, held her back. He wasn’t going to like it. Glancing between Cameron and Kiernan—both eating with single-minded focus, as if getting the food out of the way so they could get back to business—Sorcha knew she wouldn’t be bringing up her plan here. These two had alpha male written all over them. Alone with Kiernan, she might have a chance to talk him around. When he had another male to back him up? One who Kiernan had said was protective of females? No way.

“Cam,” Kiernan said, “you should think about moving your people.”

Cameron looked up at him, a grim expression on his elegant face. “We’ve had a good thing going,” he said. “I hate to leave it. As long as the Warders held this city, we’ve been safe. You keep the Vorati population down and have no idea we’re even here. Meanwhile, we’ve been making cash hand over fist.”

“Yeah, I hate to even suggest it.” Kiernan put down his fork and met Cameron’s eyes. “I have a feeling things are going to shift. If Michael really is infected? If he’s working with a Voratus? Charlotte could swing the wrong way in a heartbeat. And you’d be trapped.”

“You think it’s going to come to that? Why don’t you get Conner back here and the two of you can take Michael out.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Kiernan said in a bitter laugh, his frustration caustic. Sorcha set her hand on his shoulder, drawing out the ugly emotion the way a doctor might lance a boil. “That would be a great plan if my life’s ambition was to die young.”

“Isn’t that your job?” Cameron asked.

Sorcha got a weird twist of humor combined with anger coming off Cameron. He really didn’t want to have to leave. Hadn’t Kiernan said Cameron had come to town only fifteen years ago? For one of her kind, or Kiernan’s, that wasn’t long. Kiernan had never explained what Cameron was, not really, but Sorcha knew Cameron was far older than her. Fifteen years was probably a blink of his eye.

“To die young?” Kiernan asked. “Hell no. I have a long life I want to live. And Conner has a woman and a baby on the way. I’m not dragging him back into this. My job here isn’t to take Michael down. That’s a different mission. We’re here to find the missing Shadows and bring them home. Getting sidetracked is a good way to fuck that up.”

“My guy followed him the best he could, but Michael disappeared three times,” Cameron said, apparently giving up on talking Kiernan into going after Michael directly. “One second he was there, the next, he was gone.”

“Just like the traces of Caerwyn,” Sorcha interrupted. “I’m tracking her just fine, and then nothing. She’s gone.”

“Whatever spell craft they’re using, it’s way better than what we usually get our hands on,” Kiernan said. “Almost like it’s not Warder spell craft at all.”

“Mysterium?” Cameron asked.

“I don’t know,” Kiernan said. “I failed most of spell craft. I can blow shit up all day, but everything else…I don’t have a feel for it. I’m a solider, not a mage.”

“Is it the Voratus’s spell craft?” Sorcha asked. “Wouldn’t that feel different?” Both males stared at her.

“I was about to say ‘Vorati don’t do spell craft,’” Cameron said. “But in light of this conversation, that just sounds impossibly naive.”

“Fuck me,” Kiernan repeated. Apparently, in times of stress he lost half of his vocabulary. “If we’re talking about Vorati doing spell craft, we’re way beyond our pay grade. I’ll have to make a few calls. There’s not a chance of us unraveling what they’ve got working here. Unless you’re got some talent I don’t know about?” Kiernan asked Cameron.

Cameron shook his head. “Nothing that can touch this. If you’ve got sources you can call, do it. I’ll keep my guy on Michael.”

Kiernan nodded.

“Anything you can tell us about where he’s going would help,” Sorcha said. “We don’t have a lot of time left. If Michael’s infected, the girls are in more trouble than we thought.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Cameron said, rising. “Let me know before you make any moves. My people might need time to brace.” He left a few bills on the table and slipped out of the room.

Watching him leave, carrying a heavy cloud of worry, Sorcha wondered about what Kiernan had said. “Why did you tell him to leave town?” she asked Kiernan. “Just because it’s going to get dangerous if Michael is infected? Or is there something I’m missing?”

“I never really explained about the Delectavi, did I?” he asked in a low voice. She shook her head. Leaning in, he said, “Short story, they’re cousins to the Vorati. But they evolved differently. They thrive on pleasure, not pain. They’re harmless parasites. Most humans love having them around even though they don’t know what they really are.”

“So why do they have to leave if they can blend in? I didn’t even know they existed. Do the Warders know about them?”

“Very few. The Delectavi are a well-kept secret. The few of us who do know don’t see a reason to tell. They don’t hurt anyone. But if the Vorati find them, they’ll go after them, full-throttle. There’s nothing a Voratus likes to hurt more than one of the Delectavi. Something about the way their ability to seduce affects the Vorati. If the Vorati love to feed from Shadows more than humans, that’s nothing compared to how they feel about feeding from the Delectavi. In fifteen hundred years, they’ve almost hunted Cameron’s people into extinction. There weren’t a lot of them to begin with.”