She sat speechless after he finished, not able to find anything helpful to say. What dumb-ass idea ever made them put their souls in jars?
So she came out with the first thing that wasn’t an outright insult. “If your soul—or whatever—is out here somewhere in my world, that means you’re not tied to the Castle anymore, right?”
“Not exactly. Ordinary prisoners can leave the Castle and carry on with their lives, free of its magic. Guardsmen cannot. First, the magic that allows our bodies to survive separated from our life essence begins to dissipate once we’ve left that dimension. Second, we cannot stray too far from the vessel that contains our life essence. If we do, we start to fade.” He said it coldly, softening nothing.
“Fade?”
“Die. The bottom line, as they say, is that I have to find my urn and return to the Castle as soon as possible.”
Die. The word clutched, cold and hard, in her gut. She forced her dismay down, covering it with gruffness. “How long have you got?”
Reynard gave a slight shrug, his face a complete mask. “I don’t know. I can feel the urn’s absence. It’s like something you’re trying to recall, but can’t. A nagging sensation. But that’s all.” He made a weary gesture. “I assume it will grow worse with time. Being outside the Castle helps. At least I’m in the same realm as my soul.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. Goddess, Ashe, that was lame. “What can I do?”
“I was hoping you would offer your aid,” he said tentatively, finally letting his storm gray eyes meet hers.
It was suddenly hard to breathe.
“You helped before,” he said quietly. “When I was hurt.”
A girl could drown in those eyes.
“Yeah.” She ducked her head, not wanting to think about him dying a lingering death because some maniac had taken his urn. A man’s urn should stay in his Castle. Or whatever. A sick sensation, part anger, part helplessness, made her momentarily dizzy.
“Since I found out about the theft, I checked the vault where the guardsmen’s souls are kept. I examined every vessel. Mine is not there. Mac is questioning the Castle residents thoroughly.”
Ashe swallowed hard. “So now you have to comb through the whole of my world looking for your thief?”
He spread his hands. “I don’t know this world anymore. I’m not helpless, but I don’t know where to start. I am hoping you can guide me.”
“Why not Mac?”
“Besides being an overlarge fire demon with a full-body tattoo and therefore highly conspicuous, he has a prison dimension to run. His contacts in the human police department are checking their contacts, but this is really a supernatural crime. I would benefit more from the advice of someone familiar with the nonhuman world.”
“Plus,” added Ashe, “this sounds like there was someone on the inside. Mac needs to find out who in the Castle set this up.”
“And what they hoped to gain.” His eyes went hard with anger, giving them a gunmetal cast.
Just then Gina Chen, the other clerk on shift, stuck her head in the door. “Hey, Ashe, you here? What’s with the cardboard people?”
The young woman, all sleek black hair and almond eyes, caught sight of Reynard. “Oh, hi.” She smiled slowly, like a toddler spying a ginormous ice-cream cone. “I don’t think I’ve met you before.”
Ashe nearly growled. All of a sudden Gina was far too young and exotically pretty. Reynard was out of his element and vulnerable to the wiles of clever circulation clerks.
“I’ll be right out,” she said. At least the spike of hostility had put her back in charge of her emotions.
“Neat outfit,” Gina persisted.
“He’s in a play,” Ashe snapped. “Early rehearsals.”
“An actor. Cool.”
Reynard was watching the two women cautiously, looking from one to the other as if he were following a tennis match—or perhaps he was a cat choosing between two birds. His expression wasn’t entirely innocent.
“I’ll be out to help with the returns in a minute,” Ashe grumped.
Finally taking the hint, Gina huffed and went back to the desk.
Ashe turned to Reynard. “I have to work. I have to think about what you’ve said.”
Images flitted through her head. Eden. The vampire in the gardens turning to dust. The piles of books waiting to be checked in. Eden. Bannerman’s waterfall of slime. Kneeling beside Reynard in the Castle, watching him bleed. Eden. There was too much crowding in on her.
Reynard frowned, seeming to sense her tension. He took her hand lightly, just holding it. Drawing her in with the touch of his warm fingers. “Please take the time you need.”
“I’ve got a lot going on right now.” She should send Reynard packing. She didn’t need his problems on top of her own—too many demands made it easy to drop the ball. She couldn’t afford that. Not with assassins and lawyers on her case.
Just standing in Reynard’s presence, she felt as if she’d run a marathon. There was a sudden frisson of fear, desire, and schoolgirl nerves.
He let her go, the tips of his fingers sliding along her palm. “I’ll take whatever advice you can offer.”
Her mouth went dry. Well, at least she wasn’t salivating. Just pick a problem, Ashe; pick something and fix it. “You need new clothes. You stand out too much dressed like that.”
He looked affronted. “As I told Mac, this is my uniform.”
So Mac had already lost this argument. Too bad. “You’re going to attract attention. You came to me for advice; I’m giving it to you.”
He frowned, looking very Mr. Darcy.
“Don’t be stubborn.” Ashe used her mom voice.
She watched him back down. That was a lot of pride to swallow, but he did it. Good for him.
Grabbing control made her feel better. “Look. There’s a store in the mall called Workrite. Ask for Leslie and say I sent you for some casual clothes. Enough for a couple of days. Tell her I’ll come by later and take care of the bill.”
He shied from that. “I can’t . . .”
“You can, and Leslie will be discreet.” She was also very gay, which kept things simple in Ashe’s mind. Plus, she’d give Ashe a discount. “It’s the least I can do.”
It was a tiny thing to do. Not enough by any standard, but at least it was concrete and immediate. Best of all, sending him on an errand bought her time to think.
Reynard met her gaze, appeared to consider a moment, and nodded his agreement. “I shall repay you. My word of honor.”
All very proper, gentlemanly. But with a shock that hit low in her body, she saw her own mix of eagerness and reluctance in those storm-cloud eyes. A faint upturn to the killer lips. There was that bad boy again, wondering if he was welcome.
Ashe stood, needing distance. “Let me know how it goes. Stop back here later.”
He rose, standing so close in the tiny staff room, she could feel the male warmth of him. “I am at your disposal,” he said mildly.
In my dreams.
Chapter 7
Late afternoon only brought new complexities.
Ashe had spent most of the previous day—when not dealing with lawyers or children—making phone calls and lurking in her favorite hangouts swapping gossip. If there were hit vampires and slime demons afoot, surely somebody must have noticed.
