I looked back at Braxen to see his extended hand. For all his attraction to me, he didn't seem upset by my going with Rune. Instead, he looked oddly satisfied. I drew the keys out of my purse and handed them to him, thinking that of all the strange things I'd experienced in my life, this was right at the top of the list.
Braxen locked up while Rune watched the street. Then they sandwiched me all the way to Rune's car. Rune helped me into the backseat while Braxen put my suitcase in the trunk, then the men got in front, Rune at the wheel.
That was when Braxen drew a gun out from beneath his seat.
“What the fuck?” I leaned forward. “Why do you need a gun? Don't you guys deal with spirits? I assumed that man was possessed.”
“He's not,” was all Braxen said. He was too busy scanning the street and sidewalks as Rune drove. He kept the gun ready but below the window, out of sight.
“Then who was that man?”
“Please, Lora,” Rune said. “Just wait until we've got you safe.”
“This is scaring me.”
“Good,” Braxen grunted.
“Brax!” Rune snarled.
“What?”
“You're not helping.”
“She needs to be afraid. It will help to keep her safe.”
Rune shook his head but didn't say anything more.
I decided to focus on where we were going and let the men focus on their tasks. I noticed that we were headed for the water—Lake Washington. Then we took a turn into a very exclusive neighborhood—Windermere. We drove past sprawling estates done in every style from Tudor to modern Victorian. We drove closer and closer to the lake. Then we took a private lane with only a few homes off it. Another turn took us onto a driveway. We rolled down the center of a massive lawn, stone walls soaring at the edges. At the end of the driveway, a white stone home waited, done in a Spanish Revival style, with softly rounded stone arches over the upper-story windows, a wide redbrick porch, and a green roof. It was amazing. Massive. Very expensive. But then, what did I expect from a Cerberus team?
Cameras swiveled to follow us as we waited for the garage door to lift. As soon as he got the clearance, Rune drove into the huge space. While he parked, Braxen hit the remote, stopping the garage door on its way up, then smacked it again to bring it back down. He climbed out of the car and went to the trunk. Rune jumped out and opened my door.
I took the hand Rune offered and got out as I looked around the clean, neat garage. A row of vehicles was parked beside Rune's. I saw the car Merrick had been driving—a black Mercedes. Then there was a dark blue truck. Don't ask me what kind. At the end was a gray work van, and then there were three motorcycles along the wall.
“This way,” Rune said.
We went into the house through a laundry room, then entered the kitchen. All white with a coffered ceiling painted pale blue. Through the windows, a backyard stretched, then fell away. Beyond the drop was Lake Washington, lights glinting off the serene water. It was a ten-million-dollar view, especially combined with the house.
With a tight grip on my hand, Rune drew me past a vast kitchen island and through a bright dining room with a table long enough to sit a village. A left turn into a corridor and then we were heading upstairs. Hardwood floors, tasteful paintings on the walls hanging beside ancient weapons. No photographs. High ceilings and wide hallways. Nothing to stifle. You wouldn't feel claustrophobic there. We went through a doorway. Braxen continued past with my suitcase.
“Where's he going?” I asked.
“To put your things in a guest room.” Rune took me across a dark red handwoven rug, the design featuring the same weapon that Rune and Braxen had tattoos of.
All right, that had to be important. I should have asked Rune about it when I first saw his tattoo, instead of assuming it was simply a design he liked. But Braxen had it too and the dang thing was woven into their carpets, so there was a good chance that all three of them had the image tattooed on them. Why? What was it?
I stared at it, trying to remember where I'd seen it before. With all my research into battles and armor, I must have come across something similar before. But then I had to focus on navigating the room, stepping around thick leather couches and heavy side tables. To the right, a wooden desk loomed, three monitors set up like a folding screen atop it. Their glow turned the wood paneling behind the desk green. Several display cabinets were built into the walls, but a few more were freestanding. They all had interesting objects inside them. I wasn't surprised. As an immortal, I too had collected items from the past—items that became more and more precious as time went by.
“Have a seat, Lora,” Rune said, waving me to the couch.
I sat down, noting the bronze mantle above the cold fireplace. That weapon was featured in the bronze as well. As Rune drew a fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and settled it around my shoulders, I finally remembered where I'd seen the spear. No, not a spear—a bident. It was an ancient weapon. As ancient as the Gods.
“That's Hades's bident, isn't it?” I asked.
Braxen grunted as he came into the room. “At least we don't have to explain who we are to you.”
“Yes, it's his bident,” Rune answered with a nod at his packmate. “We all bear Hades's mark. He gave it to us when we were made.”
I shook my head. “I never thought to ask you about your tattoo. And I call myself an artist.”
