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Elise intended to find out.
She'd been itching to leave her apartment since the moment she recalled the intriguing detail, but a rather immense, rather arrogant Breed warrior stood in her way. As Tegan didn't think she had anything to contribute in the fight against the Rogues, Elise saw no reason to bother him with her information until she was certain what it might mean.
It took several minutes to reach the FedEx store near the train station. Elise loitered outside for a while, formulating a loose plan and waiting for the handful of customers inside to complete their transactions and leave. As the last one came toward the exit, Elise tugged her earbuds free and walked up to the counter. The clerk on duty was the same kid who had been working yesterday. He nodded a vague greeting at her as she approached, but thankfully he didn't seem to recognize her.
Can I help you?
Elise took a deep, calming breath, fighting hard to work through the cacophony that was building in her mind now that her crutch of blaring music was gone. She wouldn't have long before she was overwhelmed.
I need to pick up a package, please. It was due here yesterday but got delayed because of the storm.
Name?
Um, Raines, she replied, and attempted a smile.
The young man glanced up at her as he typed something on the computer. Yeah, it's in. Can I see some ID?
Excuse me?
Driver's license, credit card. . . gotta have signature and ID for the pickup.
I don't have any of those things. Not with me, I mean.
The clerk shook his head. Can't release without some form of ID. Sorry. It's policy and I can't afford to lose this job. No matter how bad it sucks.
Please, Elise said. This is very important. My. . . husband was here yesterday to pick it up, and he was very upset that it was delayed.
She weathered the clerk's answering rush of animosity toward the Minion. He was thinking of baseball bats, dark alleys, and broken bones. No offense, lady, but your husband is a dick.
Elise knew she looked anxious, but it would only serve her all the better at this moment. He's not going to be happy with me if I come home without that shipment today. Really, I must have it.
Not without ID. The kid looked at her for a long moment, then ran his palm over his chin and the little triangular growth of whiskers below his lower lip. Course if I happen to leave it on the counter and go back for a smoke break, there's a good chance that box might sprout legs and walk off while I'm gone. Shit does go missing from time to time. . .
Elise held the kid's cagey stare. You would do that?
Not for nothing, I won't. He glanced at the earbuds dangling from the collar of her sweatshirt. That the new model? The one with video?
Oh, this isn't. . .
Elise started to shake her head in refusal, ready to tell the clerk that the device belonged to her son and it wasn't hers to give away. Besides, she needed it, she thought desperately, even while reason told her she had the means to buy a hundred new ones. But this one was Camden's. Her only tangible link to him now, through the music he'd been listening to in the days--the hours, in fact-- before he left home for the very last time.
Hey, whatever, the clerk said, shrugging now and pulling the box back off the counter. I shouldn't be messing around anyway--
Okay, Elise blurted before she could change her mind. Yes, okay. It's yours. You can have it.
She pulled the wires out from under her sweatshirt, then wound them around the iPod and set the sleek black case down in front of the clerk. It took her a while to remove her hand from the top of the device. When she did, it was with a wince of deep regret.
And rigid resolve.
I'll take the package now.
Chapter Eight
Tegan came out of a brief, light doze, fully recharged, as footsteps approached the apartment door from outside. He knew the sound of Elise's soft but determined gait even before a key slid into the lock announcing her arrival.
She'd been gone almost two hours. Another two and the sun would finally be gone, and he'd be free to get the hell out of there, back to his business as usual.
Seated on the floor with his elbows resting on his knees, his back against the foam-padded wall, he watched as the door opened cautiously and Elise slipped inside. She didn't seem as eager to singe him with the waning light from the hall; now she was focused on her own movements, as if it took most of her concentration just to remove the key and carefully close the door behind her. A lumpy plastic grocery bag swung from her tightly fisted left hand.
Find what you needed? he asked her as she rested a moment with her forehead pressed against the door. Her weak nod was her only reply. Another headache coming on?
I'm fine, she answered quietly. As if marshaling her strength, she pivoted around and with her right hand up at her temple, she headed for the kitchen. It's not one of the bad ones. . . I wasn't out very long, so it will ease soon. Without dropping her grocery bag or shedding her down vest, she walked past the treadmill into the narrow galley. She was out of his line of vision now, but Tegan heard the tap running, water filling a glass. He got up and moved so that he could see her, debating whether to offer her the comfort of the trance again. God knew, she looked like she needed it.
Elise drank the water greedily, her delicate throat working with every swallow. There was something fiercely basic about her thirst, her need so primal it struck him as absurdly erotic. Tegan considered how long she'd gone without blood from one of the Breed. Five years at least. Her body had begun to show the lack, muscle groups going leaner, skin less pink than pale. She would be able to better cope with her talent if she was nourished by Breed blood, but she had to know that, having lived among the vampire race for any length of time.
She drank more water, and after her third full glass, Tegan saw some of the tension drain from her shoulders. The stereo, please. . . will you turn it on?
Tegan sent a mental command across the room and music soared to fill the quiet. It wasn't blaring like she preferred, but it seemed to help her take the edge off a bit. After a moment, Elise began putting away the supplies she'd brought home. With each second that passed, her strength renewed before his eyes. She was right; this wasn't nearly as bad as what he'd walked in on last night.
It's worse when you get close to the Minions, he observed aloud. Being exposed to that level of evil--having to get close enough to touch it--is what brings on your migraines, and the nosebleeds. She didn't try to deny it. I do what I must. I'm making a difference. And before you tell me that I'm of no use to the Order in this fight, you might be interested to know that the Minion I killed last night was in the middle of an errand for the vampire who made him.
Tegan froze, eyes narrowing on the petite female as she turned to look at him at last. What kind of errand? What do you know?
I tracked him from the train station to a FedEx store. He was there to pick something up.
Tegan's brain went into instant recon mode. He started firing questions at her one after the other. Do you know what it was? Or where it came from? What exactly did the Minion say or do? Anything you can remember might be--
Helpful? Elise suggested, her tone nothing but pleasant even though her eyes flashed with the spark of challenge.
Tegan chose to ignore the slight goad. She may want to grind that tired axe with him from the morning, but this shit was too critical. He didn't have the time or interest for playing games with the female. Tell me everything you recall, Elise. Assume that no detail is insignificant.
She went through a basic recap of what she observed about the Minion she'd hunted the night before, and damn if the female didn't make an excellent tracker. She'd even gotten the Minion's name, which might prove useful if Tegan decided to locate the dead human's residence and dig around for further information.
What will you do? Elise asked as he formulated his plan for the night.
Wait for nightfall. Hit the FedEx store. Grab that goddamn package and hope it gives up some answers. It won't be dark for a couple more hours. What if the Rogues send someone to get it before you have the chance?
Yeah, he'd thought of that too. Damn it.
Elise cocked her head at him, like she was measuring him somehow. They might already have it. And because you are Breed, you're stuck here waiting for the sun to set.
Tegan didn't appreciate the reminder, but she was right. Fuck it. He needed to act now, because the odds were good there wouldn't be a later.
What street is the delivery place on? he asked her, flipping open his cell phone and dialing 411.
Elise gave him the location and Tegan recited it to the computerized prompts on the other end of the line. As the call connected to the FedEx store, he prepared to hit whoever answered with a little mental persuasion, level the playing field while he had the chance. The line picked up on the fifth ring and the voice of a young male who announced himself as Joey offered a disinterested greeting.
Tegan latched on to the vulnerable human mind like a viper, so focused on wringing information out of the man he hardly noticed Elise coming toward him from the kitchen. Without a word, she dropped a weighted plastic grocery bag down in front of him, a rectangular box at the bottom of it clopping on the counter.
Through the yellow smiley face Thank You logo stamped on the bag, Tegan saw an airbill addressed to one Sheldon Raines--the same Minion that Elise had killed the day before.
Holy hell.
She couldn't have-- He released the FedEx clerk's mind at once and cut off the call, genuinely astonished. You went back for this today?
Those pale violet eyes holding his surprised gaze were clear and keen. I thought it might be useful, and in case it was, I didn't want to risk letting the Rogues have it.
God. Damn.
Although she didn't say it, Tegan could tell that Elise's Darkhaven-bred propriety was the only thing keeping her from reminding him how not a few hours before he'd assured her there was nothing she could do to help the Order in this war. And whether it was stubborn defiance or courageous savvy that sent her out today, he had to admit--at least to himself--that the female was nothing if not surprising.
He was glad for the interception, whatever it might prove to yield, but if the Rogues-- particularly their leader, Marek--were expecting the package, then it must be of some value to them. The question remained, why?
Tegan pulled the box out and sliced open the tape seals with one of the daggers at his hip. The return address appeared to be one of those shared-office corporate types. Probably bogus at that. Gideon could verify that fact, but Tegan was betting that Marek wouldn't be so careless as to leave a legitimate paper trail.
He tipped the box and the contents--a thin, leather-bound book sealed in bubble wrap--slid into his hand. Peeling the cushioned plastic away from the antique, he scowled, perplexed. It was just an unremarkable, half-empty book. A diary of some sort. Handwritten passages scrawled in what appeared to be a mixture of German and Latin covered a few of the pages; the rest were blank except for crude symbols doodled here and there into the margins.
How did you manage to get this, Elise? Did you have to sign for it, or leave your name, anything?
No. The clerk on duty wanted identification, but I don't have any. There was never a need for anything like that when I was living in the Darkhaven.
Tegan fanned the yellowed pages of the book, seeing more than one reference to a family called Odolf. The name wasn't familiar, but he was willing to bet it was Breed. And most of the entries were just repetitions of some kind of poem or verse. What would Marek want with an obscure chronicle like this one? There had to be a reason.
Did you give the delivery station any information that might identify you at all? he asked Elise.
No. I, um. . . I traded for it. The clerk agreed to give the box to me in exchange for Camden's iPod.
Tegan glanced up at her, realizing just now that she'd made the trip back to her apartment without the aid of music to block her talent. No wonder she had seemed out of it when she came in. But not anymore. If she felt any lingering discomfort, she didn't let it show. Elise leaned forward to inspect the book, focused wholly on the task at hand with the same interest as him, her mind totally engaged.
Do you think the book might be important? she asked him, her eyes scanning the page that lay open on the counter. What could it mean to the Rogues?
I don't know. But it sure as hell means something to the one leading them.
He's not a stranger to you, is he. Tegan thought about denying it, but allowed a vague shake of his head. No, he isn't a stranger. I know him. His name is Marek. He's Lucan's elder brother.
A warrior?
At one time he was. Lucan and I both rode into many battles with Marek at our side. We trusted him with our lives and would have given our own for him.
And now?
Now Marek has proven himself to be a traitor and a murderer. He's our enemy--not only the Order's, but all of the Breed's as well. They just don't know it yet. With any luck, we'll take him out before he has a chance to make whatever move it is he's been planning.
What if the Order fails?
Tegan turned a hard stare on her. Pray we don't.
In the answering silence, he flipped through more of the journal pages. Marek wanted the book for some reason, so there had to be a clue of some sort secreted in the damn thing somewhere.
Wait a second. Go back, Elise said suddenly. Is that a glyph?
Tegan had noticed it at the same time. He turned to the small symbol scribbled onto one of the pages near the back of the slim volume. The pattern of interlocking geometric arches and flourishes might have appeared merely decorative to an untrained eye, but Elise was right. They were dermaglyphic symbols.
Shit, Tegan muttered, staring at what he knew to be the mark of a very old Breed line. It didn't belong to anyone called Odolf, but to those of another Breed name. One that had lived--and died out completely--a long time ago. So what reason could Marek have for digging up the ancient past?