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Jill blinked, then grabbed the edge of the step with both hands as if to keep from toppling over. “Whoa. That was . . . I don’t know what that was.” She let out a breathless laugh, then focused on Steeev. “Whoa. You look really good.”
“I have all my bits and pieces?” he asked, eyes still closed. His human voice was light, pleasant, and smooth.
She snorted. “Uh, yeah.”
I descended the steps, wrapped the towel around Steeev’s waist. “I’ll find some clothing for you.”
He opened his eyes. Nice golden-brown eyes set in an amiable, dark-ski
“You’d definitely distract any attackers,” I said with a laugh. I returned to Jill, sat and wrapped my arm around her. “You okay, chick?”
She smiled. “Yeah. The bean’s going crazy, and I’m dizzy, but that’s it.” Her smile grew into a grin. “Holy shit! I have a demon guardian named Steeeeeeeeeeev.”
Chapter 29
As I returned to the house, I allowed myself a moment to bask in the success of the Jill and Steeev venture. Yet at the same time I knew how incredibly fucking lucky we’d all been. Farouche obviously didn’t know how much Jill meant to me. He likely thought her a close friend at the most. I knew damn well that if he’d known how much I loved that stubborn woman he wouldn’t have settled for a simple dump of a dead body on her lawn. His people would have grabbed her at the first opportunity to use as leverage to get Paul and Bryce back.
Mzatal was still on the mini-nexus, and as I passed I felt how much stronger the flows were than the previous day, coiled with potential energy like a compressed spring.
An exultant shout from the direction of the obstacle course drew my attention. I heard another shout, then the sound of Bryce cursing along with a musical peal of laughter. A few seconds later Bryce and Eilahn burst from the woods pelting neck and neck toward the house. At least I assumed it was Bryce. It was hard to be sure since he’d apparently done a face-first, full-body plant into mud somewhere along the course.
However, he didn’t let what looked like an extra ten pounds of mud slow him down, and even though I knew damn well Eilahn could outrun any Olympian, and was certainly sandbagging a bit for his benefit, Bryce still managed a final kick to finish neck and neck with her.
Eilahn gri
“I should have warned you about her,” I said as I approached them. “No such thing as a fair fight in her book.”
Eilahn bared her teeth. “A fair fight is the one you survive.”
“I’m with you, sister,” Bryce said as he pushed up to sit. He swiped a hand over his face and flicked mud away. “Though I admit I didn’t see eye to eye with you when you hooked my leg and shoved me into the mud.”
“I wished to be certain of my victory,” she stated.
“And stepped on my back.”
“Very certain.”
“You were already wi
Eilahn tilted her head. “I wished to be very certain of my victory. And it was most amusing.”
Bryce lobbed a chunk of mud at her which she nimbly dodged. With a parting musical laugh she loped off into the woods.
I cocked an eyebrow at Bryce and smiled. “Do you want the hose?”
“I think that’ll be a good start,” he replied with a laugh.
He levered himself to his feet while I fetched the hose and turned the water on for him.
“I’ll let you sluice yourself off,” I said, handing him the hose. “But I’d like to pick your brain once you have the worst of the mud off.”
“I’m all yours,” he said with a smile as he began to rinse.
“I need to get something from the living room, and then I’ll meet you on the back porch.”
He nodded and held the hose over his head. Smiling, I headed inside. It took me a few minutes to find the journal I needed in the stack on the coffee table, and by the time I returned to the back porch Bryce had not only finished rinsing off but had even found a battered towel to dry himself. He’d also exchanged his wet and muddy clothing for battered-but-clean t-shirt and shorts, and his drying shoes sat in the sun on the steps.
“Ready for my brain picking,” he said.
“I’ll try and make it painless,” I replied and sat in one of the rocking chairs, gestured for him to do so as well. “This is one of Tracy Gordon’s journals—the one that has your name in it along with several others.” I passed it over to him. “Do you know any of these other names?”
He read through the list, all humor fleeing from his expression. “Shit.”
My gaze locked onto him. Finally, something. “You do know them? How?”
“I know about half of them.” He looked up at me, perplexed. “What the hell?”
“Anything unusual about them? Any common link you can think of?”
“The ones I recognize work—or have worked—for StarFire or other companies Mr. Farouche owns.” He frowned in thought as he drew a finger down the list. “But they do all sorts of things. I mean, they’re not all—” Pain flashed briefly over his face before he could control it. “They’re not all like me. Hanson is an accountant. Stevens is Mr. Farouche’s in-house financial advisor. So
I slumped in the chair. Great, so at least half of the people on the list worked for Farouche, but we still had zilcho idea why they were in Tracy’s journal. “Any link apart from working for Farouche you can think of?”
Bryce considered for almost half a minute, then gave a shrug. “Nothing I can come up with.”
“Did you all come on board at the same time?” I asked, frustration rising. “Are you all from the same area? Are you all allergic to Ethiopian peanuts?” I threw up my hands in desperation. “There has to be something.”
“I’m sorry. I’m trying here.” He shook his head, grimaced. “We weren’t all hired at the same time. He
I blew out a sigh of disappointment. “Thanks anyway. I’ll check with Paul to see if he can run the names. Maybe something will pop as a co
“Wait!” Bryce said. “Shit. I just realized—there is a co
I spun to face him. “There is? What?”
“There was this one time we all went down—passed out or got really sick and dizzy—all at the same time. Several at the compound, including Mr. Farouche and Paul and me. It didn’t hit everyone, but every person I know on that list was somehow affected.”
My skin tingled. This was it. “Tell me what happened.”
“It was sudden, struck us all at once,” he said, face intense with the memory. “Some people had a bit of nausea, headache, vertigo, that sort of thing. Others collapsed completely. Lasted about ten minutes. Seriously weird.”
I felt my pulse quicken. “When was this? Date? Time?”
“No clue on the exact date. It was in November, late afternoon.” He paused in thought, then gave a firm nod. “It was a Wednesday, because Wednesday was always sushi day for Paul, and we’d decided to go eat di
Hot damn. “I know what the link is to the people collapsing,” I said with barely contained glee. “That’s the same date and time an attempted gate to the demon realm got fucked up and nearly collapsed.” I gave him a tight and triumphant smile. “It happened in that warehouse where you got shot, where you and Paul went chasing a wiggle.”