8
Willow
Iwas beginning to adore this stubborn streak of his. It meant that to break him, I have to peel off one layer at a time. To do that effectively, I needed to know his triggers. Food and water are basic necessities. Some people also had a thing about being unclothed, though this doesn’t seem to bother him. Either that or he’s so hyperfocused on ignoring his stomach pangs and sore muscles that all else was shoved into the recesses of his mind. Nevermind, I’ve already got a few more things up my sleeve.
When they cut his clothes off of him, they brought me the scraps as well as what was in his pocket. One iPhone with numbers in the contact list that were most likely fake. A driver’s license and a credit card made out to a Liam Jones, which is most definitely fake. No way would anyone worth their salt go out on a job with their real ID. The card worked, though, as I’d seen him use it at the club to pay for his drinks. It went to show how thorough he is. He’d needed money, but he also had needed to blend in. These were all parts of his disguise but also very useful. He would have no idea that they’d also be helpful to someone like me. All I had to do was get a Hound and go tracking.
It’s how I spent the previous day while Ghost was acclimatizing himself to his temporary digs. First, I visited a Valkyrie who was mated to a fae warrior I’d befriended in my youth. In exchange for agreeing to sponsor her offspring for elite warrior training, she consented to loan me one of the family’s hunting dogs, Asta. I use the term loosely, as they are most definitely wolves, descended from Odin’s own Geri and Freki. Asta was a massive beast, which I glamored to look more like a dog breed I’d come across during my human sojourns, a Husky. Asta took a good sniff of the clothes and wallet then jumped the rift with me.
The first stop was a nondescript hotel room. It had a “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging outside the door, so no one had come to clean yet. It was empty, save for a lone used toothbrush by the sink. A sniff and a good mouthing by Asta later, and she traveled us to an apartment. This looked like it was his personal space, the place he called home. Framed photos of some kid in fancy dresses and rhinestone crowns, from her infancy on up, adorned the walls. I didn’t get the feeling she was his, as no school photos or candid shots were to be found anywhere. Whoever she was, though, she was important to him. I took several of the pictures out of their frames for Asta’s closer inspection, placing them in a bag I brought with me. I could offer them as rewards for being co-operative, once we reached the stage that made such a thing feasible.
Asta next brought us to a modest house with a small yard. Tall pines grew in a thick cluster behind the row of houses on its side of the street, with the occasional one in the front yards. The house the child was most associated with, though, had a large oak out front. Also out front was a car, which had a woman and said child unloading what appeared to be groceries. Perfect. I’d found the child’s home. I drew a frame around the scene with my fingers, mentally uttering the words that would freeze this image in time for me to call up later, much like the human concept of a photograph. Speaking of which, that also wasn’t a terrible idea. I had his phone with me and it still held a charge. I’d watched humans take pictures with them at the birthday party, so I knew how to do it. I turned around, opening the camera app, and took a selfie once I had a clear view of both females’ faces, the house and car clear in the background. That done, Asta went to get a good sniff of the child, so that she could be tracked no matter where she went, across all the realms.
“I’m sorry!” I called out. “She’s friendly.” Asta proved this by trying to lick the child as if she were her favorite treat. “She got away from me when I opened my front door.”
The child was giggling now.
“Oh, it’s alright,” the woman said, relaxing. “Molly keeps asking for a dog, but we are not home enough to keep even a cat. She enters all the important regional pageants for her age and all.”
Hearing they frequently traveled over a large area, I was glad I’d had the foresight to have Asta mark Molly. If I needed to use her personal presence as leverage, it would make locating her much more straightforward. The woman, too, as I could tell from their individual scents that they were both closely related to Ghost. His mother and a sibling, if I wasn’t mistaken.
“Well, I best get Asta back home,” I said, nudging Asta so that she nosed the woman’s leg. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You, too, Mr.?” the woman angled for my name.
“Jones,” I supplied smoothly.
“Jones. I’m Carol Ann, and you’ve met Molly,” she giggled, batting her lashes coquettishly.
I gave her a short nod, not wishing to engage her any further. I could smell her attraction rolling off in waves and it curdled my stomach. I’d tupped my fair share of females, including a few humans, in my two hundred and twenty-three years of existence. She was attractive enough, but there was only one human I wanted to sink into at the moment, and he was her offspring. That’s a hard no from me. I’ll dip my wick sideways among the branches of a family tree, but up and down the tree trunk is a pass.
I turned away, tugging gently on Asta’s ruff to let her know it was time to leave. She followed me obediently and once we were out of sight, I told her to take us home. As we reappeared in Astrid’s kitchen, she stood up from the table where she was sat eating a meal with her mate and their children.
“Talk about timing!” she greeted me. “I was just telling Ash here about you sponsoring our Eik for elite warrior training.”
Given the level of success and the relative brevity of our mission, I was feeling generous. “Aye. And if he graduates in the top tier, he’ll have a spot in my personal guard.” It was time I stopped borrowing from my family’s guards, anyway, and get some loyal to just myself.
Ash looked at me. “You forming your own, then?” he asked.
“About time, I think. I’ll be two hundred and twenty-five in two years.” I didn’t need to remind him that I’d reach my majority then, and the gloves would really come off then. The Court would no longer have to play by the same rules as they did for a minor.
Ash’s mouth set in a grim line. “We’ve been friends since you were a wee lad that came to watch us spar,” he said.
“We have,” I replied evenly.
“If you’re taking applications, I’d like it if you’d consider me. And I know Glade would make the move if he were asked.”
Glade had been our nursery guard. At nearly five hundred years old, he was an experienced warrior. He’d make a great captain of the guard with Ash as his second. Glade had always protected me from the wrath of my father whenever a childhood prank had gone awry. It wasn’t until late childhood that my sense of smell discerned the reason why our father was so hard on me and only me. Why he placed such a seasoned warrior in such a position and the reason why he and my mother had parted ways shortly after my birth. I was Glade’s son, a cuckoo in the nest. He knew that by claiming me and placing Glade as guard, he’d let no harm befall any of us in the nursery as I was there. I was Glade’s only child, too, as punishment for cuckolding my father had included rendering him magically infertile. It was a standard spell, one given to guards who watched over females to avoid having precisely what had with my mother. Not that Glade had been guarding my mother or her ladies. He’d been in the general house guard and caught my mother’s eye. He was now mated to a fellow former guard, one who was wounded in some skirmish or other my father sent the guard on to grab more territory. I’d take him, no question, and Ash as well.
“I’d have to ask?” I replied, eyebrow raised.
Ash laughed. “I’ll let him know when I go tender my resignation tomorrow.”
“Good.” I’d be checking on my prisoner. After that, though, I needed to go see an outfitter about shields and banners and whatnot bearing my crest rather than my recognized father’s. It was going to be a good day, I just knew it.
