There was a good chance Piers was in the vicinity, no doubt with back up. He could even be watching the place right now if he’d traced where Jack was staying. If he saw her here and out of her nun’s outfit, he’d never believe it was a coincidence. He’d take her in to the Order, and she’d lose her prize so fast. She bit her lip. She’d prefer to keep hold of the Key, but until she got it to Asmodai, the deal wasn’t completed. There was no way to contact Asmodai directly; she had to go through Shera, and that could take time.
It would be too dangerous to hide the Key here—the house would doubtless be searched, and not only by the police. And she couldn’t take it outside in case she was caught.
What to do?
She glanced at Ryan, and he raised an eyebrow in query.
While she was reluctant to involve him, she reckoned there was zero chance of anyone dragging Ryan back to the Order for a full body search. The Key would be safe with him for a short while, and he would be safe with the Key. “Will you do me a favor?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
She almost smiled at the wariness in his tone. “It won’t hurt—promise.” She held out the small package. “Will you keep this safe for me? It will probably—hopefully—only be for a few hours. Then I’ll come and get it.”
“What is it?”
“Just a key.”
“A key to what?”
“I have no clue. It doesn’t belong to me. A…friend asked me to find it for him. It’s what I do—I find things. I just have to get in touch with him and arrange to hand it over. But I’d prefer it if no one knows I have it.”
He studied her for a moment, genuine concern in his eyes. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
She grinned. “No more than usual.”
“Okay. Give it here.”
She handed him the Key and watched as he put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and zipped it up safely. “Right, I’m out of here,” she said. “Will you tell your guys I’m coming out?”
He nodded, and she turned and headed for the stairs. At the door, she paused. “Ryan, if anyone does come asking about that key—hand it over. It’s not worth fighting for.” That was a lie, but it was her fight, not Ryan’s, and she’d hate him to come to harm over this.
Without waiting for a reply, she hurried up the stairs. At the front door, she peered out. The black van was still opposite. As she stood there, four men and a woman climbed down. It was time to leave.
She sauntered down the path as though she had no worries in the world. One of the men held open the gate for her, but no one spoke as she passed through. She presumed Ryan must have told them she wasn’t to be bothered.
Once past them, she picked up her pace and hurried down the road, expecting every second to be stopped. She took the first side road, in order to get out of sight and avoid bumping into either Jack or Piers, and then stopped and turned around.
The night was warm, and the scent of summer flowers drifted up from the gardens. She felt almost at peace. Hopefully she could contact Shera and set the meeting up sooner rather than later. She could get the Key back from Ryan, hand it over, and she’d be free.
Afterwards, she’d disappear. A momentary pang of regret hit her. She wasn’t sure what for, until an image of Piers Lamont rose up in her mind. Gorgeous and sexy and…probably wanting to kill her.
It was for the best.
She stood in the side road and watched as they led Jessica out and into the black van. It drove away, and she waited to see if anything else would go down, but the road remained quiet. She guessed Jack had picked up that something was wrong and changed his mind about coming home. Or whoever had been tailing him had finished him off. That would be nice, but way too convenient—things were never that tidy. But at least it meant that there would be a delay, hopefully a considerable one, before Jack discovered that his Key was missing. And by then, it would be safely in Asmodai’s hands, and she would be off somewhere warm and sunny with no demon to tell her what to do.
After half an hour, she decided the coast was probably clear, and she could head for home. She sauntered back toward the river. The streets were quiet, and she felt quite content as she strolled along. Jessica was safe, and she couldn’t believe what a weight that was off her mind. Just a little bit to offset all the bad things she’d done. Maybe she’d become a philanthropist, dedicate herself to doing good. Hey, she might even become a nun. She chuckled to herself, but the truth was she could become anything she desired. The world was her oyster, or her playground or…
She came out of her little daydream, to find herself confronted by two figures. For a second her heart stuttered; then she looked closer and realized they were nothing but young punks. Probably after her valuables, or her body.
They weren’t getting either.
One of them smirked at her. He couldn’t have been more that seventeen. What was the youth of today coming to?
She let her eyes drift down over them, very unimpressed. When she reached their faces, they were frowning as though she wasn’t behaving as anticipated. Well, what did they expect? She’d seen far worse than them already today—hell, she’d been bitten by a vampire only this morning. A couple of skinny punks weren’t going to spoil her mood.
“Hand us your cash,” the taller one said.
She smiled sweetly. “Just a moment.” Reaching behind her, she pulled the hunting knife from the sheath at the small of her back. It was a huge blade, the edge serrated, and she wrapped her fingers around the hilt and held it in front of her.
They took one look at the blade glinting in the streetlights and bolted.
Roz chuckled as she strolled on. The world was good.
Chapter Seven
Christian handed him a glass of scotch and sat in the seat behind the desk, sipping his own drink. “Isn’t it about time you told me what this thing he stole from the convent actually is?”
Piers rested his head against the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling while he decided just how much of his murky beginnings to reveal. He’d never told anyone at the Order of his life before he was changed. He gulped his drink in one go and held out his glass, then changed his mind and put it down on the table in front of him. “Hand me the bottle, and I might.”
Christian raised an eyebrow, but leaned across and handed him the bottle of scotch. Piers unscrewed the top and took a long drag. He sighed. “It’s a key.”
“A key to what?”
“It opens portals between worlds.”
“Which portals?”
“All of them.”
Christian stood up abruptly and held out his hand for the bottle. Piers grinned and handed it to him.
“How come I’ve never heard of it?” Christian asked.
“Probably because it’s a relic from a long time ago—from before the Shadow Accords. It was supposed to have been destroyed when the Accords were drawn up—before you were even born.”
“But it wasn’t?”
“Well, obviously not.”
“Why?”
Piers shrugged. “I wasn’t involved in the Accords when they were set up—I wasn’t particularly interested in bringing order to the world back then.”
“Really? You surprise me.”
