I’ve frightened her. The bitter scent of Eloise’s fear fills the cab and makes it impossible for me to ignore. She barely says a word as I drive her to the warehouse in the Richmond industrial district. Her reaction is a good reminder of how human she is and how persistently altruistic. Only she would regret hurting someone who meant to injure or kill her. It’s Tony all over again. The woman has a soft heart, even for the wicked.
I grind my teeth. This is why what happened between us can never go any further. I’m a shade, a monster to her, and she’s a soft, pink, vulnerable mortal who wouldn’t last two weeks among my kind.
This area of town has seen better days, peppered with broken-out windows and barricaded doors slapped with orange foreclosure stickers. I park across from a large brick building under a streetlight flickering its last breath.
“This can’t be right,” she mutters, climbing from the Jeep. “Tony would never do business here.”
The street is empty, but the chemical stench of meth cooking on the breeze has me moving closer to Eloise on high alert. If I crack another skull in front of her today, she’s liable to dismiss me again. But she needs me, even if she doesn’t believe she does.
“The location isn’t half as surprising as what’s inside,” I mumble. I lead her into the yawning concrete maw of a perfectly empty warehouse. At the rear of the vacant building, a rat skitters across a beam of moonlight cascading through the broken windows.
“What the hell is this? Where is Gold Weaver, Inc?”
“Exactly my question.” I walk deeper into the empty room, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the voluminous space. “This is the address Tamara remembered.”
Eloise taps on her phone’s flashlight, reminding me she can’t see in the dark. “Hey, there’s something over here.” I follow her to the corner where a pile of paper trimmings waits. “Do you think he used this place to shred documents?”
I sift through the scraps, sending a stampede of cockroaches scampering for a hole in the wall. Eloise shivers and takes a step closer to me. I’m tempted to put my arms around her, but stop myself, holding my breath rather than breathing in her scent. “Tamara said he shredded anything related to Gold Weaver a few weeks ago, but these are blank. It seems unlikely that Tony would rent a warehouse to shred blank sheets of paper.”
“What the hell was he doing here?”
We both whirl around when the door we’d entered through gives a head-splitting squeal. Uneven footsteps herald a haggard-looking man in a hoodie who steps into the light. The pungent,chemical scent I smelled on the street wafts off him. Tensing, I growl low and step in front of Eloise.
“Wait, he might know something,” she whispers.
I enhance my illusion to appear more human, dimming the glow of my eyes and shifting my weight the way their kind does.
“You hiring again?” the man asks her.
Eloise walks around me and approaches the man with a warm smile. “Hello. Did you say you worked here before?”
The man glares at her through dull eyes, his face marred with scabby sores. I don’t like how close she’s standing to him and have to dig my talons into my palms to keep from forcing myself between them. “Just looking for work, if it’s back.”
“If what’s back?” she asks.
The man winces. “Never mind.” He starts for the door, but I’m already there. I grab him by the throat, prepared to compel the truth out of him. His eyes widen the moment he registers the points of my teeth, the way the shadows cling to me, and the hard light I’ve allowed back into my gaze. I smell his fear but also his confusion. This man doesn’t trust his own mind.
“Don’t hurt him,” Eloise commands, and there’s that note of compassion in her voice again. Her green eyes are misty with it, her expression pleading.
Unbelievable. Must she sabotage her best interests at every turn? I sneer at her. “I was only going to help him remember.”
She pulls out her wallet and holds a ten dollar bill in front of the man. “I think he’ll tell us without anyhelp.”
The man’s gaze snaps to the money, and he licks his lips. It takes only a moment for his resolve to crack. “Yeah, Iused to work here off and on. This place hired a lot of us. Paid us in cash.”
I release his shoulders. “Us?”
“Uh, vagrants. Street people.” He folds his arms and casts me a sideways glance. Yeah, I’m between him and the door, and I’m not going anywhere. “A lot of us don’t like regular jobs. Ask too many questions. This one, you just showed up, and they gave you work.”
Eloise nods encouragingly. “What is it you did here?”
“Me? I just moved reams of paper to keep the presses going.” The man shrugs.
“Presses? They were printing something?” she prompts.
He nods slowly. “I take it you’re not with them, then.”
She shakes her head and holds up the money between two fingers. “What did they print here?”
