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When I wake up, it’s after three p.m. I’ve never slept in that late, but the last two days had been very taxing, and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep where I felt completely safe in years, if ever. I feel more rested than I’ve ever been.
As soon as I shake the sleep off, I smirk. Terrance wasn’t kidding about his snoring. Like his laugh, it’s loud, deep, and rattles the whole house. I’d been so exhausted it hadn’t wakened me, but I’ll be investing in some earplugs.
After a nice, hot shower where I’m not worried about hidden cameras or perverted neighbors breaking in on me, I get dressed and make my way into the kitchen, wondering what a troll keeps in his pantry. I don’t make it to the cupboards, because there’s more than a key waiting for me on the kitchen table. Terrance has left me a laptop, and on the same ring as the house key, there’s a fob for a car sporting a Cadillac logo.He gave me a key to his car?
Along with the computer and keys, there’s a note. It simply saysNO ARGUMENTSand lists five contact numbers.The handwriting is strong, slanted, and all caps. And it’s dark, as if he bolded the letters to emphasize his point.Point?I snort. It’s not a point. It’s athreat.
I don’t take charity. In my experience, when guys give you stuff, they expect too much in return for it. But somehow I feel safe accepting this loaner. I know Terrance is only trying to be nice. He’s trying to take care of me. And he’s doing it because he wants to. Not because the state is paying him to. I’ve never had someone look out for me like that. It’s overwhelming.
After scrounging up a bowl of cereal, I sit down at the table and open the laptop as I eat. Terrance has already set it up and connected it to his Wi-Fi. While I connect to the Internet, I look over the list of phone numbers and add them to my contacts. The five numbers he gave me are for himself, his bartender Wulf, Nick Gorgeous, Parker, and Oliver. The list makes me grin. It’s like he’s telling me these are people I can count on. People I can trust. The irony of it is that they’re all underworlders. Who’d have ever thought I’d find more friends among monsters than humans?
I’m surprised Parker’s number made the list. As angry as Terrance was at him and Henry last night, I’m shocked he’d trust Parker enough to give me his number. Still. It’s a good thing he did since he’s the person I need to talk to right now. My thumb hovers over his name, but I can’t make the call. I shake off my nerves and take a deep breath. “Get over it, Nora. Parker’s not Henry, and you need his help.”
The personal pep talk does the trick. I dial his number before I can think better of it.
“Hello?” His voice sounds sleepy. It’s cute. That thought shocks me almost as much as the small smile currently on my face. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Hello?” he asks again, because I haven’t said anything yet.
“Hey, Parker. It’s uh…Nora.”
“Nora?”
His surprise sucks away the little confidence I had. “Um, yeah, it’s me. Terrance gave me your number. I hope it’s okay that I called.”
“Of course. I’m glad you did.” He doesn’t sound groggy anymore. “Listen, Nora, I—”
“Don’t bother with the explanations or apologies. I don’t want them. It happened. It’s done. End of story. I’m just calling to see if you found out anything about that license plate number I gave you.”
There’s a long pause, and then Parker says, “Let me take you to dinner, and we can discuss it.”
My heart jumps up into my throat. I go with my initial knee-jerk reaction to being asked out, even though something akin to butterflies flutters in my stomach at the offer. “No. Hell no.”
“I don’t mean you harm, Nora. I’d just like to see you again. Under normal circumstances this time.”
I’m tempted to accept, and that scares me. “I don’t date,” I whisper. “Ever.”
“Not a date, then,” Parker persists. “Consider it a business meeting. We’re both working on the same case, and we can help each other.”
Tempting. Very tempting. I almost say yes. But I just can’t disregard years of bad experiences and gut instinct. “Or…you could just tell me what you know now, and I won’t have to wait for dark to get to work.”
Parker sighs. “The plates were fake,” he says.
“What?”
“The license number you gave me belongs to the minivan of a soccer mom in Plymouth.”
My heart sinks. That was our only lead. “You’re certain?”
“100 percent. It was most likely an illusion spell.”
“Magic?”
“Yes. The club’s cameras and the street cameras were all spelled out of commission that night, too.”
I leave the kitchen and start pacing in the living room. This doesn’t make any sense. But it does go along with the vision I had of the guy who took Shandra. He’d breathed something in her face that knocked her out. I’d assumed drugs of some kind, but maybe he was using magic. “So we’re looking for a sorcerer.”
“One who’s stealing underworlders,” Parker says. “Though I can’t imagine why.”
