He was studying it. But for what? “Why?”
As tempting as it was to stop and investigate further, I couldn’t risk it. Today was Thursday. The new manuals came out every Wednesday, and after Joaquin had committed whatever crimes and melee he could happily manage in a twelve-hour period, I’d bet another eyetooth he’d be back here, poring over pages that would bring this shrine to life with sound and color and light.
A plan began to assert itself. If I could find a place to hide, somewhere I could burrow in so deeply that Joaquin would never intuit my presence, I could stalk him from down here. I could take him in this room, which he felt was a safe and hallowed refuge. One moment he’d be leafing through pages of violence, incense burning the air, and the next he’d be sitting, stunned, in the afterlife. I smiled. There was a lot to be said for the element of surprise.
The crowded anteroom would be my best bet, I decided, snuffing the black taper and exiting the room after one final look. There were dozens of niches and crannies where I could bury myself; an old English wardrobe, a sliver of space beneath the giant bed, or a leaning bookcase piled with old tomes, though that might be tricky to wriggle my way out of later. I rejected a large trunk as being too uncomfortable-plus if Joaquin carelessly threw the lock, I’d have sealed myself in my own tomb-and studied the rest of the room, kicking off a scorpion as it scuttled across my boot.
Somewhere on the hillside’s surface the day was being born. Now that I was more than human, I felt the nascence of dawn and dusk the same way consciousness slipped into me at the start of every morning. I’d known coming into this I probably wouldn’t be heading back to the sanctuary at dawn, but I still had to fight back a wave of regret. It disappeared entirely seconds later as a noise sounded from the bug I’d planted in the living room. It was a lock snicking, a door being opened, then keys tossed on some hard surface, probably the coffee table, as the sound thudded jarringly through my earpiece. I looked around with renewed resolve. The evidence of my run-in with the hounds of hell would probably send Joaquin scurrying to his hidey-hole to make sure for himself that nothing had been tampered with.
Which meant I had to hurry.
I yanked the device from my ear as my gaze landed on a space I’d dismissed before as being too narrow. But it was deep and would provide easy access to the other chamber, and I could slip behind Joaquin when he ventured inside. So I slid in sideways, angling to nestle back as far as I could, and cocked my conduit in front of me as I made sure my mask was firmly in place. Then I slowed my breathing until the air around me was as pristine as glacier wind, and waited.
I’d been standing still a full thirty seconds when it occurred to me to wonder: if daylight couldn’t seep underground, why was it growing brighter in here? With a gasp, I looked down to see my glyph alight, then an arm like a crowbar yanked me against a body I knew all too well. My wrists were grabbed, torqued expertly in an unnatural angle, making my dog bite throb anew, and my conduit clattered uselessly to my feet.
“Regan said you might be stopping by,” Joaquin whispered in my ear.
I’d have sighed if I had any air to spare. Instead I choked on fear and adrenaline. As I said, there was a lot to be said for the element of surprise.
17
With no conduit, no leverage against his superior physical position, and having received a few sharp blows from Joaquin against my face and kidney-warning shots; he wasn’t trying to hurt me yet-I was easily subdued. I quickly found myself in the center of the room, trussed up to a sturdy, high-backed chair, which Joaquin happily assured me was an original Louis the Fourteenth. Oh goody. I’d hate to die bound to something from IKEA.
I looked around for something I could use as a weapon, but I was tied up so tightly, I might as well have been wearing a straitjacket. There was nothing I could do but wait for an opening and hope Joaquin released me, or made a great mistake. Like the one I’d made.
For now, he was simply scrutinizing me. He hadn’t removed my mask-I think my identity was yet another treasure to be mulled over later-but gone was the lascivious smirk he usually wore-I’d long ago become more to him than a mere conquest-and in its place was a thoughtful gaze, like I was a puzzle he’d yet to solve. Of course, when he saw me watching, his demeanor shifted, and a cagey gleam returned to his eye.
“Still looking for buried treasure, Archer?”
“You seem to have plenty,” I said, indicating the room with my eyes, as everything else, including my neck, was too tightly fastened to move. The ropes dug in uncomfortably, and the glyph on my chest was beginning to feel like a severe case of heartburn, though I tried to let none of this show. It irked me that his glyph was significantly less pronounced, the smoke rising from his chest in scant tendrils, like incense recently burned out.
“Oh, this?” he said lightly, looking about as if seeing his cavern for the first time. “This isn’t treasure. It’s… creature comforts, that’s all.”
“And the mini-cathedral you’ve built next door?”
“Ah, yes. I was wondering how you liked that. You spent enough time in there,” he said, and I could see it bothered him. “I almost left my hidey-hole to find out what you were up to, though I could see where my reference room would be of interest to you. Perhaps you’d like to borrow a few manuals, do some light reading of your own… though I’d have to insist you return everything back to its proper place. It took me ages to organize.”
“No, thanks,” I said dryly. “You know why I’m here.”
“Yes. Hunting me,” he said, eyes widening dramatically. He laughed then, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d have done the same were our positions reversed. Sometimes irony sucked. “You’ve done so well too. Without Regan’s help I doubt you’d ever have found me.”
I bristled at that. “Maybe not here. Not now. But I’d have found you.”
“Oh sure,” he said, crossing his ankles as he leaned against a pine farm table crowded with Civil War-era dust catchers. “After your entire troop was massacred by disease. After the valley’s population was decimated, though that could be any day now.” He leaned close to me, so close my eyes nearly crossed, his soiled breath warming my cheeks. “By the way, whatever damage was done to my dear pets upstairs will be done to you, tenfold.”
The thought of screwdrivers made me swallow hard, and picking up the emotion, Joaquin inhaled theatrically. I smiled back and let my Shadow side flare, sending up the scent of fresh ash to mingle with the cloying scent of burned honey and rotting fruit. Joaquin jerked back at the reminder of just whose daughter I was, and for the first time, looked as if his back was against the wall.
Perhaps I did have a weapon after all. “My father-”
I was going to say,
“Fuck it.”
He came at me like a bull, fists clenched, and I tried to push away, but ol’ Louis had made some seriously fine furniture. Joaquin was on me instantly, my hair clenched so tightly in one fist that tears watered up in my eyes, nails from his other hand digging into my shoulder as he pressed me back so the wood of the chair sent arrows up my spine. Then his lips were on mine, thin and slimy and demanding as his tongue fought entrance past my teeth, an intrusion that reminded me of the lizards wriggling above us, the worms writhing in delicate peril, the serpents sliding through earthen roots and sun-baked grit. I gagged on a combination of panic and revulsion as juices from his mouth entered mine, his death stench seeping down the soft lining of my throat.
He finally pulled back, a curious mix of triumph and fear twisting his features into an uncertain blaze, all wiped away with a frown as he watched me hack and spit. His sewer-water saliva was fouling my mouth, and noxious fumes rose to burn the membrane lining my nose. I needed a glass of water, pronto. No, I needed a tetanus shot. Better yet, a shot of pure alcohol to cleanse my senses…and something to cool the ember on my chest where my glyph was scorching through my shirt. Fuck, but it hurt! I focused on that, and used the pain to anchor me.
“What?” I demanded, as Joaquin continued looking at me expectantly. I spit again.
His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, but his mouth only twitched, holding the words back as he waited for…something.
