He glanced at her Colt, and a slight flicker of expression showed both amusement and annoyance. That annoyed her right back. He didn’t think, or didn’t care, that she would shoot. He didn’t go for his own weapon— gun, knife, or anything else. No one was that cool unless they were crazy or a liar.
He met her eyes. Liar. Crazy. Iceberg. She couldn’t read him. He was granite. Damn. Reynard studied her, his body nearly as still, as not there, as that of a vampire.
“I can leave my post for an hour or two. Nothing happens. I’m a guardsman, not one of the Castle’s prisoners.” With his free hand, he tapped the hilt of his sword, the gesture reminding Ashe of a detective flashing his badge.
“Why are you looking for me? How did you find me?”
“Word reached the Castle that you were on this case. I found you because, well, that is what guardsmen do. We find our quarry.” He gave a ghost of a smile that didn’t soften his face. “I take it you’re not pleased to see me. I’m devastated.”
Ashe ignored the last bit. “So you found me. Why are you looking?”
“I am here to help with your search. I suppose I should value the novelty of a trip to the world outside the Castle realm.” Reynard somehow managed to glance around without completely looking away from her trigger finger.
“Uh-huh.”
Now Reynard showed a sliver of uncertainty, a slight downturn of his mouth. “This looks very different from anything I recall.”
“It’s the women’s bathroom.”
He looked puzzled. “Bathing room? I don’t see any tubs. No lady’s boudoir ever looked like this.”
Oh, Goddess. Ashe gave up and lowered the gun. “Why did you come to help?”
Reynard gave a small shrug, barely acknowledging the end of their standoff. Ashe tried to bury her temper. She was showing the guy some trust. This was the new, improved Ashe Carver, the one who didn’t stake first and ask questions later. He should be grateful.
He leaned his old firearm against the shining tile wall. “The guardsmen know something about the creature you hunt.”
Reynard folded his hands behind his back, the gesture very old-fashioned, but somehow commanding. Masterful suited him. It occurred to Ashe the title of captain might be a leftover from his human life.
“Go on,” she said, forcing herself to concentrate past her ecstatic hormones.
“The creature escaped from the wilds deep in the Castle. I don’t know why or how. It would not normally approach an inhabited area.”
“So why did it?”
“I suspect someone turned it loose, but that is tomorrow’s investigation. Tonight, we catch the creature, and that won’t be easy. It’s fast. It took only a moment for it to burst past our men and through the portal into your world.” He stood, if at all possible, even straighter. “It escaped on our watch. Therefore, we must help with its recapture.”
Ashe pushed her hair back. He followed the gesture with his eyes. Something dark and very male crossed his face, then was gone. The closed book of his expression had opened for just a second, but what she’d seen had made her whole body tighten. No, the guardsmen didn’t get out much. The Castle kept them immortal, but it also kept their animal appetites under iron control.
But he wasn’t in the Castle now. He’d claimed nothing would happen when he stepped outside its walls. Bullshit. That bad boy she’d glimpsed wanted out.
Caution flooded back, stiffening her shoulders. Caution and curiosity.
“What kind of creature is it?” she asked, and wondered whether she meant the man or the beast.
“A phouka.”
Ashe tried to remember exactly what that was. She’d never encountered one, but thought it was a kind of animal. That would fit with the savage attack. “Can it talk or fire a gun?”
“No. It has no offensive magic that I know of, either.”
“The best news I’ve heard all night.” There were more questions to ask, but time was short. “So what’s the plan?”
“To chase it back to the Castle. Mac doesn’t want it killed. He says it’s too rare.”
Mac was the Castle’s head honcho, Reynard’s boss, and not a bad guy for a fire demon, but still . . . “That’s it? You’re kidding. Surely you guys know what these creatures can do to a human body?”
Reynard gave a slight shrug. “He is my superior. I respect his orders. Mac does nothing lightly, and someone will pay for this breach of security. That is certain.”
The memory of the chewed-on concessions clerk oozed through Ashe’s imagination. “Okay. Fine. How do we get it to go home? Whistle? Rattle its kibble bag?”
“I’ll open a portal to the Castle.”
“Don’t you need a key for that?”
“The old guards do not need keys. We can open a portal at will.”
Ashe knew almost nothing about guardsman magic. She would have to accept that one on faith. “Okay. So, then what do I do?”
“You chase it through. Mac will have men waiting on the other side.”
She gave an inward sigh. She didn’t like working with others, much less turning control of the hunt over to someone else, but Reynard had a plan and she didn’t. No points for her. “All right. C’mon.”
Ashe pushed past him, through the door and out into the night. He followed silently, carrying his long firearm in one hand.
She turned and looked at it curiously. “That’s a musket, right?”
He glanced down, like he just remembered he was carrying it. It was a part of him. “Yes.”
“How many shots does that thing get?”
“Just one.”
Okay, he might have a plan, but his weapons sucked. Points even. “Guess you don’t get to miss.”
He made a soft sound, not quite a laugh, that raised the hairs on her arms. There was something predatory in it. “I would rather count on hitting the target than need a second shot.”
“Can’t argue with that.” But she did, and her tone said so. The thing belonged in a museum.
Reynard gave her a sharp look. He was tall but so was Ashe, and the full force of his gaze caught her straight on. His gray eyes looked darker in the uncertain light. “Do you find fault with me?”
“Not with you. That weapon is old and, forgive me, primitive.”
“You have no reason to worry.” His voice wasn’t quite so friendly now.
She let the subject drop. She’d said what she had to say.
They’d reached the sidewalk that snaked along the perimeter of the buildings. Gift shop. Coffee shop. Ice- cream stand. Art gallery. Restaurant. All the windows were dark, except for the odd security light. It made Ashe think of a movie set after the cast went home. By contrast, the workers left the gardens lit for the search. Colored lights peeked from the flower beds and dotted the paths, making a fairyland of the night garden. Floodlights of red, green, and blue washed the branches of the trees. It was beautiful, but tricked the eyes. There could be anything hiding in that fantasia of color.
The night air was cool enough for her to feel the heat from his body as they walked side by side. He smelled faintly of gun oil, as if he’d been cleaning his weapon before he came. She liked the scent. She’d been drawn to him from the moment they met last autumn—he’d been brutally wounded; she’d been one of the fighters defending the Castle. She’d guarded him until help arrived. The stuff of action-movie romance.
But I got over it. Besides being a not-quite-human guy from another century, Reynard was doomed to eternal servitude in an alternate dimension. Talk about geographically incompatible. No, drop-dead gorgeous didn’t make up for everything.
Besides, she’d had to change. The old Ashe Carver—aggressive, mouthy, with a free- range libido—had been forced to grow up now that her daughter was living with her. She was less eager to start a fight just to see what would happen. It mattered if she took a bullet, because she had to work a regular job. Most of all, having a kid had made her picky about whom she spent time with and utterly paranoid about whom she brought home.
