Priceless (A Rylee Adamson Novel, Book 1) Page 4

  “You’ve got two minutes left,” Kyle said from behind me.

  “Okay, I’m almost there,” I said

  I did a search for ‘supernatural,’ and then ‘unexplained,’ with no results. “What’s another word for unexplainable or magic?” I muttered to myself.

  “Arcane.” Kyle grumbled at me. He was still pouting from being told to butt out.

  I typed in the word and the computer screen flashed before taking me to a section I hoped I would never see. The Arcane division of the FBI.

  Chapter Seven

  You have got to be freaking kidding me!” Kyle exclaimed over my shoulder.

  “Damn it, kid, don’t you ever listen?” I snapped. “Forget it, just print this off, or save it for me, or do whatever you can in the last bit of time you have.”

  Kyle sat and the printer started up. “I’ve printed the entire section for you, but it’s over three hundred pages long so it’s going to take a while.”

  “How long’s ‘a while’ and are you going to have enough paper?” I sat back in the recliner.

  A while turned out to be over two hours thanks to his prehistoric printer. You’d think with all the upgraded equipment he had, he would’ve put out for a faster printer. The possibility of not having enough paper was bad, but worse was his non-stop questions, of which I answered zero. If he’d been just a few years older, I would have had a lot less difficulty with him. I would have just thumped him on the head and left him tied up in the bathroom. Being a kid gave him an immunity to my anger and my blades that he didn’t even realize he had.

  I ended up drinking the rest of the root beer and felt a sugar headache coming on fast. At least it would keep me awake.

  Kyle bundled up all the papers for me and wrapped them with two elastic bands. “Here I think that’s all of them.”

  I took the bundle and tucked it under one arm.

  “So, what do you think the files are really for?”

  I looked up, surprised at first. Of course, he couldn’t believe the files were about the supernatural. That was an impossibility in his world of technology.

  “Just a code name for missing kids. The ones they can’t explain.” He followed me out to the door, neither one of us noticing the slight beeping on his security system until we were at the door. Or the pair of suits walking up on the camera monitors toward his back door. Not good; sloppy on both our parts. I blamed my inattention to the memories that this case was stirring up.

  The doorknob was cool under my hand and the slightest shuffle on the other side of the door caught my ear at the last second. I froze and looked over at Kyle.

  His face was pale and his eyes wide. He shook his head ever so slightly and I backed off the door. Together, we sidled back into the kitchen. Running back to his workroom, he checked his security monitors and let out a groan, hands clenched in his hair. There in black and white were two very dark grey suits, standing at his back door, discussing something. Probably us. Kyle grabbed my arm, his body trembling. “I didn’t know they would actually show up at my door,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the sudden stress.

  “Neither did I.” I thought for a minute. There was a way out of this, but there was a possibility Kyle would get a glimpse at some of the things I could do. “Go back into your computer room, get all the online games going that you can, quick now.” I gave him a shove in the direction of his work room.

  “How’s that going to help?”

  “Just do what I say!” I took a breath and explained quickly. “If they come in, you can claim you didn’t see what I was doing, that you were playing your games while I used the printer.” A thread of adrenaline started to pump through me. If I got thrown in jail, it would mean the end of India’s chances. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Kyle stumbled over his own feet as he tried to make his body obey his commands despite his obvious fear, glancing back at me for reassurance. I nodded and shooed at him with my free hand before turning my back on him.

  With Kyle busy, I turned my attention to the bundle of papers. I couldn’t make it disappear; that was way beyond what I could do. But I could make it look like something else. Something close to what it truly was. Giselle had shown me how to do this, but using my abilities to do something they weren’t designed to do would make my sugar headache a fond memory.

  Concentrating, I focused on the heading, slowing my breathing to match the pulse of my energy. FBI Arcane Division became Francine Bouvier’s Interesting Facts on Divisions of the Arcane. A bead of sweat rolled down my face. This kind of glamour always left me drained. It just wasn’t one of my strong abilities, though at the moment I was glad I at least had this little amount. I slipped off the elastic bands and flipped through the pages; changed the major headings of which there were ten. The pages began to flow under my hands as the glamour took hold and spread through the entire stack of paper. I let out a breath and wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. Crap I was tired now, even with the sugar rush; I was not at my best for facing down an FBI agent. Even worse, since it was O’Shea.

  A hard knock at the door snapped my head up. A glance at Kyle’s white face and wide eyes didn’t give me much comfort.

  “Stay there,” I said, gesturing at Kyle as he stood. “I’ll go to the door and deal with them. You just stay there.” He nodded and sank back into his chair, his hands going to the keyboard, listless with his fear. If O’Shea saw Kyle, he’d know there was more to this than what I was going to tell him. I took a deep breath and strode across to the door, Ms. Francine Bouvier’s Interesting facts clutched in my arms. One last deep breath and I opened the door, smiling up into O’Shea’s glowering face. “Well hello, Agent O’Shea, fancy meeting you here.”

  I leaned against the doorframe, paper bundle held loosely in my arms, as if it were not important at all. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me.” I looked up at him from under my eyelashes. “In fact, I’m beginning to think you want a repeat of this morning.” I ran my tongue over my bottom lip.

  His face cultured under his olive complexion. Oh yeah, he hadn’t forgotten. If only I’d tried this trick of Milly’s years ago. He regained his composure quickly, though I did detect a smirk on his partner’s face. No doubt Mini-Me had been razzing O’Shea relentlessly about kissing a person of interest.

  “What are you doing here, Adamson?” O’Shea growled at me.

  I blinked up at him. “Me? I’m visiting a friend. He has a printer.” I shifted the bundle of papers to get his attention. “I don’t have any high tech stuff like computers. Prefer to have things on hard copy. I don’t think that’s against the law now, is it?”

  Mini-Me piped up. “Of course not, miss. We’re just doing our duty, following up on leads.” His voice trailed off as O’Shea turned his glare on his partner.

  I continued to smile as O’Shea’s glare returned to me, letting the laughter fill my eyes. His dark eyes narrowed. I started to chuckle. Couldn’t help it. I fanned my face and took some deep, gulping, over-exaggerated breaths. “Oh man, you two are way too much fun! Do you hire out, or do you only do your act for friends and persons of interest?”

  They were both frowning at me now, and O’Shea reached out and snagged the bundle of papers. I heard a squeak from inside the house and silently prayed for Kyle to hold it together for a few more minutes.

  O’Shea glanced over the heading of the bundle of paper and flipped through a few pages. “You catching up on some light reading?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll read anything. Especially when I have nothing better to do.” I gave him my best innocent eyes, keeping them wide and batting my lashes. An exaggeration for sure, but we both knew I was lying; he just couldn’t prove it.

  He snorted and handed the papers back to me. We also both knew he didn’t have a warrant for anything, so unless they traced the hacker here already, which I didn’t think they had, there wasn’t any reason for him to continue harassing me.

  “Are we
about done?” I asked.

  “Not by a long shot, Adamson. Not by a very long shot.” He turned on his heel and strode away, Mini-Me following in his wake.

  Kyle shuffled up behind me. “You know those guys?”

  “The big guy has been following me around for nearly ten years. You get kinda used to it.”

  “But they’re FBI. Why would they follow you around?” Kyle’s voice trailed off and I looked over my shoulder at him. He was just a kid—brilliant, dorky, and so naive it almost hurt to look at him. I told him the truth though; he deserved that much from me.

  “They think I did a very bad thing, that I killed my sister. And some days, I think they’re right. I could have stopped those who took her, if I’d been trained then.”

  I stepped into the bright sunlight, the cold cut of the wind going right through me.

  Chapter Eight

  I drove for an hour, heading west before I pulled off the interstate and into a gas station, just as the autumn sun began to set. I was too far from home to make it before I’d just have to get up and leave again in the morning. It was better to get a good night’s sleep and start fresh in the morning—that’s what Giselle always said.

  There was a motel across the street, half decent, clean and close to the highway. I’d stayed there before when I hadn’t wanted to make the three-hour trek from Bismarck all the way home. All fuelled up, I pulled a u-turn and crossed the street, glad I always kept an overnight bag in my Jeep alongside an array of weapons and equipment not so easily found at a corner drug store. A girl can never be too prepared.

  North Dakota is known for its farming, badlands, and good people. Not so much for its high-end hotels, gourmet cuisine, or anonymity. This little motel was no exception. Hiding my body from prying eyes, I slipped my favorite weapon into place: A two-foot long blade, edged in silver and copper, with a custom-fit handle just for me. No, I wasn’t going hunting for vampires and I hadn’t read too many comic books as a kid. But, most supernatural creatures weren’t bothered by modern weaponry. It tended to piss them off rather than do any actual harm. Handle down near my right hip and blade tip near my left shoulder blade, it was held in place across my back, not only by sheaths and leather, but by a spell put together for me by Milly. My throat closed up as I thought of my sister-friend. That’s what we’d been for nearly ten years; now she was just gone. I took a deep breath and let it out, putting her out of my mind as I examined the rest of my tools. Ten daggers, also edged in silver and copper, two lariats, one tazer, and one high-powered crossbow with bolts on top. Underneath, there were packages of herbs and poultices, again prepared by Milly, to use on everything from burns, cuts and broken bones to head injuries. With everything accounted for and my blade underneath my jacket and securely in place, I went to check in.

  The desk clerk nodded at me as I walked in, his battered cowboy hat pulled low over his ears and a few stray grey hairs sticking out at the edges. John had checked me in here more than once.

  “Find any kids today, Ry?” He was also the only person I let get away with shortening my name; he was, after all, in his eighties and I figured he’d earned his right to say whatever he wanted to at his age.

  “Nope, not today. Kissed an FBI agent, though. That was kind of fun.” I winked at him and he smiled back at me. It was a routine game between us. I told him the truth and he thought I was funning him.

  “Did you make him blush?”

  I scooped my room key off the counter. “Come on, John, you know a lady’s not supposed to kiss and tell. Then again, I’m not much of a lady, so yes, I made him blush and his partner too. Too hot to handle—you should know that about me by now, John.”

  He guffawed and said, “Off with you now, girl. I swear, an FBI agent?”

  I stepped back out into the quickly cooling night air and walked down to my unit. Number thirteen. I liked it, and it was the one everybody else avoided so I didn’t have to worry about how many people had left their little nasty bits behind in the communal bed. Gross, I know, but something to think about next time you stay in a hotel.

  It was still early, so I sat down at the small but real wooden desk, pulled out a pen and paper, and began to write down what I knew so far. At the top of the page I put India’s name, age, hair and eye color, suspected abilities, and quirks her parents told me about. I had nothing else to speculate on except what groups could possibly want her and her abilities as a spirit seeker. That had been my first inclination when I saw the pictures—someone who could commune with the dead with great ease and for whom the dead held a great affection. Like someone who was good with animals, spirit seekers rarely had to actually seek out spirits; the dead came to them, flocked to them in droves, desperate to be heard and remembered. There were times that it was a temporary phenomenon. Children had been known to grow out of their abilities as they hit puberty. But those who didn’t were powerful and very, very rare.

  I scrubbed my hands back through my hair and laid my head on the desk, on the paper with all of India’s stats. “Where are you kid?” She didn’t answer, not that I really expected her to. I hated the fact that I couldn’t track a child on the other side of the Veil. My stomach growled suddenly, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Leaving off with the list making, I headed out for something to stave off starvation.

  There were no pizza joints out this way, or any other type of foods that could be delivered, so I settled for gas station gourmet. A bag of chips, two pepperoni sticks and small carton of milk. Carbs, protein and dairy, a nice balanced meal. The night air felt good, cleansing, with the constant wind that was just a part of the landscape, and I found myself walking away from the hotel, taking a side street into the nearest suburbs.

  I walked for over an hour, my growling stomach and the food in my bag forgotten as my mind tried to work through what I was facing. If I wasn’t on a salvage, I’d be doing everything I could to find out more about the Arcane division of the FBI. How much did they know about the supernatural world, and was any of it true? But more than that, did they even have an inkling of how ugly it would get if the big, bad, uglies of the supernatural world felt threatened? It would be one giant clusterfuck if word got out about this new FBI division. It was a weight on me that only added to my concern over India. Distraction wasn’t a possibility, not when going after a kid. So, for now I would have to put it aside, deal with it after I found her.

  With the decision made on how I was going to handle at least that part of things, I headed back to the motel.

  I poked my head back into the office before I went back to my room. “Hey, John. If anyone comes looking for me, dial me up first, would you?”

  John frowned and scratched his head under his hat before answering. “Ain’t nobody come looking for you before. You ‘specting trouble?”

  I shrugged and bit off a piece of pepperoni. “Maybe. Hopefully not, I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow and don’t really feel like spending the evening fighting off FBI agents, no matter how cute they are.”

  His laughter followed me back out the door and I could still hear him when I got to number thirteen—where the door stood open, the lock busted, splinters of wood scattered on the floor. Dropping my meager dinner and drawing my blade, I edged up to the door, keeping my back flat against the wall. For a good two minutes I was silent; I didn’t move, just listened.

  There was nothing, not a single heartbeat, breath, shuffle, or even any psychic energy thrumming through the air. I stepped into the room, still in a fighting stance, blade at the ready, despite what all my senses told me. I wished now I’d brought some of my other toys from the Jeep. I hadn’t really been thinking anyone would be gunning for me. Not yet anyway. No one in the supernatural community should have known that I was on the case. By tomorrow, yes, but not by tonight. With only one large weapon between me and hand-to-hand fighting, I was not a happy girl, no matter how good my hand-to-hand was.

  A quick circuit of the room showed nothing, confirming what I
already knew: it was empty, the intruder gone. I let out a sigh. Nothing like a pile of problems to make life interesting.

  Then something fluttered to my left. I turned to get a closer look. The curtain had been shredded and was covered in long black hair. I recognized it immediately. It belonged to a very large and very determined werewolf.

  Damn it all to hell and back.

  I lowered my blade and felt the itch in my spine a split second too late as a hairy set of claw-tipped hands wrapped themselves around my throat. I let out a strangled squawk, my hands first going for the claws, and then stopping to lower my blade.

  I couldn’t use it, not on this one.

  Chapter Nine

  Gotcha!” A familiar rough voice growled in my ear as the hands tightened around my throat for a heartbeat before letting go. I took a deep breath and turned to see my ever faithful werewolf, half crouched at my feet, tongue lolling out; amber eyes wide and innocent, and his human wolf hybrid body covered in pitch black silver tipped hair.

  I let out a sigh, a mixture of irritation and relief. It could have been worse; it could have been whatever had taken India on my tail, or even O’Shea and Mini-Me.

  “Good job, you did it, you finally snuck up on me. But what are you doing all the way out here, so far away from home?” I lay my blade on the bed and folded my arms across my chest, doing my best imitation of a scolding mother and repeated my question. “Alex, what are you doing so far from home?”

  He cringed, his body, stuck between human and wolf because he wasn’t strong enough, and never would be, to switch between forms. Only the Alphas could do that; only the Alphas could pass for human. Most of the pack was like Alex, unable to switch between forms. To the contrary of what the world will tell you, being bit by a werewolf doesn’t automatically make you a powerhouse. It only strengthens the traits you already have, takes them to the next level.

  From what I could find out about his previous life, when Alex had been bitten he was a kind, quiet, submissive, harmless man. So he’d become the golden retriever version of a werewolf—loving and faithful.