Winter Wolf Page 24

  I shivered. The sensitivity of my nose bothered me. Could Normals, as Amber called them, smell the cinnamon of a Fenerec?

  ~No, they can’t. There is a reason what you did is taboo. It’s possible to steal things from others that way—like an enhanced sense of smell. At least Scott won’t miss what you took, right?~

  Guilt surged through me, and for a very long moment, I considered burning the book to ash in my bag.

  “Sign these,” the Fenerec said, shoving a clipboard at me.

  I took it and read the form. When it asked for my name and driver’s license, I grabbed my wallet out of my pocket and dutifully wrote down my details before sliding the clipboard back to her.

  Could the Fenerec sense the lie of my name? Or had I been Nicole Thomas for so long she wasn’t a lie anymore?

  “You ever fire a gun before, Ms. Thomas?” the receptionist asked.

  “No, ma’am,” I replied.

  “The rules are simple. Do not carry loaded guns in the common areas unless directed to. Return all ammunition to the box. There is no one else in the range right now, but I expect some will practice. If you’re using any of the launchers, Ms. Arlington, please call the desk for clearance.”

  “Thanks, Elizabeth,” Amber said, handing over her clipboard. The receptionist smiled and tossed Amber a pair of keys.

  “Have fun, girls.”

  Amber headed towards a door tucked behind the desk, opening it for me and waving me inside. A series of long hallways buffered the reception from the sounds of gunfire. When Amber opened the door leading into the range, I stopped and stared.

  The catwalk we were on overlooked a vast cavern. A window separated the walkway from the range. Below were stalls; I stopped counting after twenty, focusing my attention on the far side of the cavern. A sea of metal fragments covered the floor. Some of the stalls had trolleys and paper targets, while others faced pock-marked stone walls.

  “This is the primary practice range. You’ll learn how to handle guns here. Once I’m satisfied you won’t kill yourself—or me—I’ll take you to the obstacle course.”

  “Obstacle course?”

  Amber grinned. “It’s great fun. They change it at least once a week. Ever play paintball?”

  “No.”

  “Well, we sometimes play paintball on it, but more often than not, the idea is to take live guns on the course and take out targets. Whoever makes the best time on the course wins. They’re tough, though. In three days, you won’t finish, but at least you’ll be better equipped to deal with things like kidnappers.” Amber paused, staring down at the range. “This isn’t a game, Nicole. We’ll have fun, but if those who are after Lisa come after you, you’re going to be fighting for your life.”

  I shivered and nodded my agreement, although I doubted I’d ever feel comfortable with treating guns like toys.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Firing a gun with my injured hand hurt, but Amber didn’t accept any excuses. She did, however, take some pity on me and taught me how to shoot using my left hand.

  At first, the lesson intrigued me; with deft fingers and practiced efficiency, she dismantled a pistol, showed me what everything did and how to take care of it. She taught me the basic rules of handling firearms. Most of it made sense, including the stern reminder not to point a weapon at someone unless I meant to kill them. She showed me a photograph of what had happened to someone’s foot when they had pointed a high-powered rifle at their feet.

  I somehow managed not to throw up.

  With numb hands and gashes sluggishly bleeding from the abuse, I emptied another clip into a paper target. Amber brought the sheet back, examining the results.

  “All shots hit the target,” she declared. She grabbed a fresh target, and sent it sliding back to the end of the range. “Do it again.”

  I considered taking the gun and beating the witch with it. I thought better of it and reloaded the gun. My fingers tingled from the effort of holding the weapon steady. We hadn’t been at the range long, but the repetition frayed my nerves and my arms ached from the effort of firing the same way each and every time I pulled the trigger.

  “Safety on,” a man’s voice barked, loud enough to penetrate the headset protecting my ears from the sounds of gunfire.

  With a relieved sigh, I checked to make sure the safety was on, unloaded the gun, and set it down on the table.

  “All clear,” Amber replied, taking off her headset. I followed her example, setting mine next to the emptied pistol.

  A tall man waited in the doorway of the stall, dressed in a clean-cut suit. He gave off a lawyer vibe, all business and no nonsense, and he inspected me from head to toe. I had abandoned my longer sleeves in favor of a spaghetti-strap shirt, and I struggled against the urge to cover my scars. Was this man the person who was supposed to interview us? Judging from his no-nonsense, brisk attitude, I guessed he was. “You could have snapped a picture of her with your cell phone and spared me the trouble of coming out here, Ms. Arlington.”

  Amber cringed, bowing her head. Uneasy over the presence of a man who made Amber wince, I took a step back towards the gun and ammunition.

  My movement drew the newcomer’s attention. “My apologies for startling you, Ms. Thomas. I’m certain all of this has been very troublesome for you.”

  Bowing my head in the same way Amber did, I stared at the white ceramic tiles. “No need to apologize, sir.”

  “Mr. O’Reilly, Ms. Thomas,” he replied. Under the cover of my eyelashes, I watched him retreat several steps into the hallway. “Please come with me, both of you.”

  “Bring the gun and ammunition box,” Amber ordered, following the other Inquisitor. I grabbed both, stashing them in my messenger back before following the witch. The pair was waiting for me at the end of the hall, talking in low voices. They quieted as I approached. They led me through more winding tunnels until Mr. O’Reilly opened a door and waved us inside.

  The room reminded me of the Venetian; elegant, antique-styled couches circled a coffee table, although the bar along the far wall added a modern touch to the decor. “Sit, ladies. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Water, please,” I replied.

  Amber followed my lead by nodding. She led me to one of the armchairs and pointed at it. She sat on the couch nearest to me. Mr. O’Reilly set a glass of water in front of us. As he pulled away, I drew a deep breath.

  I smelled cinnamon. Picking up the glass with both hands to hide my shaking, I sipped, watching the Fenerec without meeting his gaze.

  “When I was informed you were hired for a protective detail by the Canadians, I’ll admit I was a little displeased,” Mr. O’Reilly announced, setting into the armchair across the table from me. “But now that I’ve seen your ward, I can see why there’s so much interest in this Normal. My apologies, Ms. Thomas, but that’s what we call people who are not affiliated with our order.”

  I nodded, staring down at coffee table; polish kept the dark wood glossy, but the sides had a worn, old look to them.

  “I felt it prudent to arm her and teach her how to use a gun. It may not save her, but at least it’ll give her a fighting chance. It seemed wrong to let someone murder her for having the misfortune of looking like someone else, sir.”

  Mr. O’Reilly waved his hand dismissively. “You made a good decision, Ms. Arlington. I’ve looked into your file a little, Ms. Thomas. It would not behoove the Inquisition to allow harm to come to you. You are a person of interest.”

  Once again, I nodded, but didn’t speak.

  “I must formally ask you to swear secrecy; what you learn here must not be spread. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Mr. O’Reilly. I won’t speak a word.”

  “Of course, you may discuss matters with Inquisitors as necessary, such as Ms. Arlington here, or myself. As the Canadians have an interest in you, and are aware of the Inquisition and our duty, you may also confide with them, but I ask you to restrain yourself otherwise.”

&
nbsp; I dredged up the courage to glance at Mr. O’Reilly’s face. With his gaze intent on me, I looked away before we held eye contact. “I understand, Mr. O’Reilly.”

  “With that out of the way, Ms. Arlington, I have work for you. As soon as you have given Ms. Thomas adequate training, there is someone who has been causing us problems. I want you to deal with him.”

  Amber’s eyes widened, and she lifted her head to look at the Fenerec. Her gaze focused on his chin. “What sort of problem, sir?”

  “Multiple women have been murdered in Las Vegas. We have reason to believe he is a rogue, likely a necromancer or sorcerer. Seeing as the Canadians are currently staying in Las Vegas, I felt you would be the ideal candidate to make certain he’s eliminated. He is preying on young women, particularly those who dress wealthy. There have been seven victims thus far. The bodies have been found not far from Las Vegas Boulevard, so we believe he is hunting at the casinos on the Strip. All of the victims have had large sums of money transferred out of their bank accounts in cash prior to their deaths. All of them were seen gambling in high stakes games.” Rising from his chair, Mr. O’Reilly went to the bar, picked up an envelope, and slapped it on the table in front of Amber. “This is all that we know. As we find out more information over the next few days, I will give it to you.”

  “Shouldn’t I take him out now if he’s killing women?” Amber’s voice cracked as she grabbed the file and opened it up. Unable to look away, I stared at the photographs of the dead women. I covered my mouth with my hand. Their once-elegant dresses—something movie stars would wear to an award ceremony—were rumpled, torn, and stained with blood. I couldn’t tell what killed them, but instead of grimaces of pain, they all wore brilliant smiles, as if they had enjoyed their deaths.

  “I recommend you look away, Ms. Thomas. These images are not pleasant.”

  “I’ve seen worse,” I said, my raspy voice calmer than I expected. But then again, it was the truth.

  Scott’s death had been far, far worse. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. O’Reilly would share the same fate if I didn’t do something about it. The Fenerec didn’t seem sick. But Scott hadn’t seemed sick either.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Thomas.”

  I nodded, staring at the photographs. When Amber finished with each one, I took them and laid them out over the table. Diamonds, pearls, and precious jewels had winked for the camera, and I pointed at a particularly large ruby nestled against the bruised throat of one of the women. “I bet you could buy half of my apartment building with that thing.”

  Amber snatched the photograph, examined it, and then handed it to Mr. O’Reilly. “She’s right, the killer didn’t take the jewelry. Why not? Look at the diamonds this lady is wearing.”

  “We had noticed the presence of jewelry and have gathered it for evidence. You have a quick mind, Ms. Thomas. Please, if you notice anything else, do let us know.”

  Shooting me a warning glance, Amber set the photograph back in place. Uncertain of whether to keep quiet or speak if I found something, I resumed my study of the images. Biting at my lip, I stared at their faces. “Were these women raped?”

  “What a way to go,” Mr. O’Reilly muttered, low enough I suspected he hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him. Then, taking my question seriously, he said, “That is unknown at this time, Ms. Thomas.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. O’Reilly, these are high class ladies. If I wanted to look for sex in a casino, I would not do so wearing this, I assure you.”

  “You do not strike me as a high class lady, Ms. Thomas, nor rich. I mean no offense by that, but your file states you are a struggling actress who lives in one of the poorer sections of Los Angeles.”

  I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t retort, remembering Amber’s warning about lying to Fenerec. When I gathered my composure, I met Mr. O’Reilly’s eyes. “If you were a woman of notable wealth, would you go into a casino to attract a poor man to steal your wealth? I wouldn’t, Mr. O’Reilly. A girl doesn’t wear clothes like this for just any man. I think she wanted to impress someone—someone worth impressing. Someone very, very rich, who knows the difference between real diamonds and fakes.”

  “You are the fifth woman today to make this argument, Ms. Thomas. I’m inclined to agree with you. But the truth is, we simply do not know.” Mr. O’Reilly paused before turning to Amber. “Ms. Arlington, you’re correct in that it’s risky to wait at this time. It’s very likely there will be more victims before you hunt down this killer. I’ve been told we won’t have all of the tests back for at least another day. I would rather send you in knowing what you’re up against. You’re too good of a witch to unnecessarily risk and this killer’s specialty is empowered, wealthy women.” Mr. O’Reilly headed to the door, pausing to look over at Amber, and then at me. “Train well, ladies. I will contact you when we have more information on what you can expect, Ms. Arlington.”

  Long after the Fenerec left, we stared at the door in silence. Amber finally sat straighter, gathering the photos and stuffing them back into the folder. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Nicole.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, wondering what the deaths of the wealthy women would mean for Amber and me.

  ~~*~~

  The next few days passed in an exhausted blur, with a gun in my hand every waking moment. When I woke up bleary-eyed, unsure of how long I’d been at the Inquisition compound, I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. Even my scalp ached and my collection of bruises had grown overnight. Groaning from the effort of moving, I checked my messenger bag for the pistol Amber insisted I carry everywhere, along with my new collection of concealed carry permits. I was halfway dressed and almost ready to be tortured at the firing range when Amber started laughing at me.

  “What?” I mumbled, wiggling my way into my shoulder holster.

  “We’re going back to Vegas today, remember? What are you planning on doing, rob a casino at gunpoint?”

  I paused my adjustment of the leather strap, staring at the witch without comprehending what she said for several moments. “Oh, that’s today?” I couldn’t keep the relief out of my voice. If I never saw the obstacle course ever again, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I winced when I remembered something. “We forgot to call Richard and Alex.”

  “You forgot. I didn’t; I chose not to answer my phone. They’re probably in a frenzy by now. They’re less likely to kill you, so I’ll give you the honor of dealing with them. O’Reilly gave me an updated case file this morning. They think they identified the killer last night, so I have a target. I’m hoping to get him either tonight or tomorrow night.” Amber picked up a folder and waved it at me. “You can read it in the car.”

  “Beats the course,” I muttered, snatching the file out of Amber’s hand.

  “Give it time. If you think you are sore now, wait until you sit in the car for a few hours.”

  I holstered my new Beretta, courtesy of the Inquisition, and hoped I’d never have to use it. But if I did, I had drawing and firing down to an art. While I wouldn’t win any marksmanship competitions, I’d hold my own long enough for help to come. My lessons wouldn’t ensure my survival, but they might prolong it. I flexed my sore right hand. Despite the severe abuse, it was healing well. My fingers still tingled a bit from the vibrations of firing a gun so many times. I felt good—better than I thought I would.

  The leather coat I shrugged on, another gift from the Inquisition, hid the gun from casual observers. While I was grateful to be escaping the Inquisition compound and its devilish obstacle course, it had taught me one very important lesson: I never wanted to meet an Inquisitor who wanted to kill me. At least I had surprised Amber; I managed to complete the course, although it took me three times as long as the practiced Inquisitors.

  My chest and stomach ached from the rain of rubber bullets during my last run at the course. The bruises would fade, but I wouldn’t forget the sensation of a bullet punching into the vest and knocking the breath out of me. ‘Don’
t get shot again’ was a new priority of mine.

  “Do you think I should call Richard and Alex or just face them in Vegas?” I asked as I double checked my gun, packed away extra ammunition and my suppressor, and went through all of my concealed carry permits. Maybe the Inquisition thought I meant to travel a lot, because I had one for every state. The fact they were able to get them all within twenty four hours terrified me more than the fact they’d kill me if they discovered I was a wizard.

  Despite having run me ragged, I hadn’t betrayed myself to them.

  I had survived the lion’s den.

  “I’ll warn them we’re coming back, and you can face off with them in Vegas.” Amber grinned, pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. It beeped at her, and she turned the display to me: over a hundred messages awaited her, and her voice mail was full.

  Motioning for me to stay quiet, she dialed a number. “Hello, Richard. I’m bringing your princess back to you now. We’ll be in Vegas in a few hours.”

  I heard Richard’s rumbling voice, but before I could catch what he said, Amber hung up on him.

  “Really, Amber? Princess? Are you trying to piss off everyone?” I put my hands on my hips and tried to look stern. “He’s going to be angrier than before now.”

  “Hey, I was helping you. Princesses aren’t supposed to be scary. You’re armed and dangerous now. Never forget it, Nicole.”

  ~~*~~

  By the time we reached the Venetian, I was prepared to face down an entire pack of Fenerec if it meant I could soak in the penthouse suite’s tub. I grimaced as I got out of Amber’s car.

  “I warned you,” she said.

  Huffing at her, I couldn’t help adding a jab of my own. “Remind me again, and I’ll help myself to your car for a weekend, Amber.”

  “Grand theft auto? Nice. What other charges are you going for?”

  “I already have two counts of kidnapping. Is there one for having done it with a stolen gun? And is there one for armed assault and battery?” I flicked my hand at the witch in a rude gesture. “I got a gun, witch.”