Collector: City In Embers Part 24

The fragrance of the sheets mixed with the woman's perfume. I rubbed at my nose as the irritants continued to waft up my nostrils. I hated flowery smells, though they had to be better than how I smelled. The need for a shower hit an all-time high. A visit to the shelters should be on our to-do list for the day. They were the only place you could get a warm shower.

Images of tropical plants covered the bedspread, which fell to the rug as I rose to my feet and stretched. I hadn't slept so well in ages. It felt nice to sleep in a bed again. My dirty jeans lay across the arm of a chair in the room, and I pulled them on. I felt slightly shocked Ryker undressed me for bed. Since he was one guy who would probably not try to get a peek at me naked, I wasn't disturbed by him removing my clothes. Again. It was nice he did.

The soft beige carpet cushioned my feet while I padded to the bathroom. I avoided peering into the mirror as I made my way to the toilet. It was too early to take on the horror that would stare back at me. I did find an extra brush left in a drawer and tried to detangle the knots coiling my locks. "Ouch." The brush tugged at the ratty mess, and I found it pointless. Too much dirt, blood, and sweat coated the strands. I stared longingly at the shower before heading out to the family room.

Ryker and Sprig were in the kitchen. Ryker sat at the dining table, staring outside. He leaned on one elbow as his fingers tapped at his mouth. Sprig sat on the tabletop next to him, contentedly eating dry cereal off the counter. The open box of Honey Nut Cheerios sat between them, looking like they were sharing them. Something about the scene triggered a smile. This would be Ryker's version of getting his kid breakfast.

Ryker's head twitched. He knew I was there but didn't look at me. Our wall that had come down the night before now stood back in full force. It put me on guard. I crossed my arms and walked into the kitchen.

"Bhean," Sprig called to me with a mouth full of Cheerios.

"Hey." I pulled out a chair and sat at the other end of the table.

"Want some?" Sprig held a handful of gummy cereal. I shook my head.

"You'll need to eat something," Ryker said. His voice was cold and packed with displeasure.

"Yes, Mom."

His eyes peered at me with annoyance before returning to the window.

Today was going to be one of those days.

I settled in the chair. "So what is our plan this morning?"

Ryker's curved finger tapped one more time against his chin before he exhaled and turned to me. "We travel into the city. I need to find the people who can help us with the key."

"How are we going to locate them?"

"There is no 'we.' Only me."

"What do you mean?" I sat up, leaning forward.

"These men do not like humans. It is better if it's only me. They will not take kindly to me bringing a human along. And they aren't the kind you p.i.s.s off, especially when you need their help."

Frustration singed at the edges of my patience. "Fine." It wasn't fine. "So what should I do while you track these guys?"

Ryker shrugged.

I ground my teeth. "Sprig and I will go to a shelter. I need a shower anyway." I stood and moved to a cupboard. There was nothing much in it except for stale bran cereal. Cheerios it was. I poured my own mound on the table and munched quietly.

Ryker got up, shaking his arms in irritation. "When you're done smacking your lips, I'll be outside waiting." He strapped on his harness and inserted his axe. His boots beat the floor as he stomped through the sliding gla.s.s door.

Sprig's head rolled to me. "Wow. Viking's in a p.i.s.sy mood this morning. What'd you do? Give him blue b.a.l.l.s?"

"Sprig!" I choked on an oat loop. "I didn't do anything."

The monkey's little eyebrows hooked up.

"I swear."

"I saw you two last night. Don't tell me nothing is going on."

"You know nothing went on. You slept with us," I exclaimed. "Plus, eww."

Sprig rolled his eyes. "Deny it all you want. And I wasn't talking about you two doing the hokey-pokey. It's more than that."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." I got out of the chair, grabbed my jacket, and slipped it on. I lifted my bag from the counter and threw the strap over my head.

"Why? Hitting on a nerve?"

"What will it take for you to shut up?"

"This is fun."

"I will get you a dozen granola bars when we get to the shelter, the ones with honey."

Sprig tilted his head. "Shutting up now."

I stuffed whatever I could into my bag: medicine, Band-Aids, rubbing alcohol. There wasn't much. Whoever lived here did a good job of clearing out. "Sprig." I pointed to my bag.

"Am I really so noticeable?"

"A human girl, a talking monkey, and a Viking look-alike? Yeah, we stand out no matter what, but you will cause panic if you open your mouth."

He humphed, shoveling a last handful of cereal into his mouth before crawling into the bag I held. He settled at the bottom, wrapping around his goat.

"By the way, how do you know about blue b.a.l.l.s?" He opened his mouth to speak, before I cut him off. "You know what? Don't tell me."

"But-"

I closed the top of the bag, drowning out Sprig's response and headed after Ryker. I was better off not knowing about Sprig's understanding of blue b.a.l.l.s.

We trekked back to the city toward the Red Cross shelter residing in the northern part of Seattle. It had only been a day, but the city looked in further disrepair. The air held hopelessness. All promise and faith was buried along with the dead. People milled around, homeless and idle, waiting for something to happen. The county, the state, and local volunteer services tried their best, but with so much devastation, it seemed impossible to help everyone. There were so many layers needing attention. Where did you start? The crumbled buildings, the electricity, the water, the homeless people, the dead, food, homes, medicine, or the people still alive under the rubble, if there were any living? It was all desperately needed. It would take years to get this city on its feet again. Until then, for those who couldn't get out of the city, they hung around-waiting.

Ryker did a full sweep of the area before he found me a less populated tent.

"I need the key."

My finger felt for the object in my front pocket, tugged it out, and placed it into his palm. A lot of trust went into my action, but what could he do with it? This was not his mystery to unravel but mine. I had to believe he was doing this because he wanted to help me.

He coiled his fingers over it and shoved it into his jeans. "Don't leave here. I'll be back as soon as I can." His gaze darted around. I could tell he was not happy about leaving me alone, but there wasn't much else to do if I couldn't go with him.

"Well, I thought about going shopping, then maybe a movie or something."

He stared at me, unamused. "I'm not kidding. Stay put."

"Yeah. Yeah. Where am I gonna go?" I opened one of the candy bars we stole from storage and shoved it into my bag. A happy groan emanated from the inside. "I'm going to take a shower and relax. Something I recommend you do when you get back."

He didn't stink, he actually smelled incredible-a clean, earthy scent. Like the air before a storm over a vanilla field. It was strange and slightly sweet but still woodsy and masculine. Most fae had various ranges of this scent, but Ryker's affected me differently and in ways I didn't want to think about.

"Keep your guard up. DMG and Garrett are still out there, searching for us." His head was positioned deeply into the hood of the sweatshirt he took from the house where we stayed. He tried to remain hidden as much as he could, but no matter what, the man could not disguise his daunting form or distinctive looks.

"I know."

Ryker inclined his forehead, almost touching mine. His hood sequestered us, blocking out the rest of the world. He breathed in, his mouth compressing into a thin line, then pushed away from me, walking away. I watched his noticeable shape exit the room, and I wasn't the only one. More than a handful of woman observed the Wanderer leave the room as if he were a magnet, most keeping a close eye on the man's a.s.s.

The feeling of being deserted rushed to the surface, plopping me on my cot. He'll be back. He's not leaving you, Zoey. I was aware of my abandonment issues, but there were very few times they had reason to surface. Most of the time, I didn't let people close enough for it to be an issue. So how and why did a fae stir these emotions in me? I recognized we had been through a lot together, and I had no one else now. All the other people who could manifest these reactions in me were dead. I am projecting, I rea.s.sured myself. Simply projecting.

Opening my bag, I saw Sprig hugging Pam, fast asleep. He usually napped after he ate. Or anytime, really. I grabbed him, the travel-size shampoo, and the towel they issued every cot and took off for the shower. He would most likely stay sleeping, but I'd rather him be with me in the shower than leave him unattended on my bed. Someone could search for money and freak out when they found a monkey instead.

I hung the bag from the hook where I could keep an eye on him and got under the warm spray of water. Washing the dirt and blood out of my hair and the layer of grime from my skin felt like heaven. The water stopped after my allotted time, but I stayed till the last drop. I helped myself to clean underwear and socks from the Red Cross supply closet. Clean undies were a must. When I climbed into my clothes, it dampened my exhilarated mood. Dirty clothes on a clean body were not ideal, but at least I smelled a lot better.

Sprig stirred as I finished dressing. "Stay put," I mumbled, shoving my feet into my boots and wrapping my wet hair in a bun. I slid my jacket on and left the shower tent. When Ryker said "stay put" I figured it meant within the shelter area. At least it was how I took it.

The mess hall looked set for lunch. Small sandwiches, bottles of water, chips, and more granola bars lined the table at the far back. The sight of the bars made me ill, but my finicky appet.i.te was put on hold when hunger struck. Several sandwiches went straight into my pouch. Actually, "pouch" was the perfect description-like a mother kangaroo keeping her young fed by stuffing food into her protected pocket.

"You good, Joey?" I patted my bag lightly. He wouldn't get it, but it amused me.

Walking back to a table, I started to take a bite of my food when the ground felt like it gave way. Fae auras came into the tent, glowing with energy. Every once in a while I would sense a fae aura around the shelters, probably feeding in their own way, but these figures came with names. Garrett and Maxen, the man who killed Daniel, stood at the entrance. Their eyes scanned the room.

"s.h.i.t." I dropped, hiding myself behind a table. A sharp squeak came from my bag. "Sorry, Sprig, but Garrett's here," I whispered hoa.r.s.ely. A few people sitting around stared, watching the crazy lady talk to her handbag.

Alarm rose as I watched them walk farther into the room. Dammit! I wanted Ryker to be with me, but at the same time I was grateful because he was the one they were after, and he was much easier to spot. There was a chance I could get by unnoticed. Didn't we all look alike to them?

Maxen pa.s.sed a piece of paper to Garrett. He took and examined it.

I could see it was my picture. Not good. Really not good.

He placed the paper on the table, his voice and face filled with worry and love. "Excuse me." His accent floated to me. "Have you seen her? She is my sister, and I am so worried about her. Our whole family is." The charm oozed from him, appealing to the ladies. They tilted their heads in concern.

"Oh, you poor dear." One lady patted his arm. Whether he was using glamour or simply the power of his Irish accent, it worked. They were smitten.

One of the ladies studied my picture. "I recognize her. I swear I feel like I just saw her getting a sandwich only a moment ago." She pointed over her shoulder at the food table.

s.h.i.t. Panic swaddled my lungs, wringing them. If they caught me or even saw me, I was done. They would use me against Ryker, and he made it clear he would not let them have the stone, no matter what. He would have traded Amara for the stone already if he were willing to be threatened. He certainly wouldn't trade it for me.

I drew my hood over my head. They advanced toward the far end of the room, studying everyone as they walked. I took the opportunity to start walking to the front. Keeping my head lowered and shoving it in my sweatshirt, I proceeded to the exit. If I walked too fast, I would call attention to myself; if I walked too slowly, I might be caught. My heart thumped out of rhythm with my steps. I tried to keep my strides steady and paced, while the beat of my heart pommelled my ribs. The entrance of the tent seemed to grow farther and farther away, and my legs itched to run. Finally, I reached the opening and made it past. The sight outside the tent stopped my steps, a shriek vaulted around in my mouth. I chomped hard to hold it in. The area brimmed with fae. The glow of their auras colored the gray of the day. Garrett's men swarmed the vicinity, going in and out of the dozen tents located on the premises. All the guys held my picture. My teeth ground together, keeping the fear inside. I ducked my head and turned away from them. Don't see me. Don't see me, I chanted in my head.

"Hey," a voice called. I stiffened, solidifying in place. "Have you seen her?" I peeked from my hood. A blond fae walked to a man exiting the tent near me.

"No, sorry." The man peered at the picture and shook his head.

The fae proceeded in the opposite direction. Hot relief limbered my muscles and allowed me to move again. Holy s.h.i.t. Much too close. Why didn't he approach me?

I didn't have time to care. I quickened my stride, distancing myself from the throng of pursuers. Following the tent around, I moved to the back of the shelter, away from the people and toward the park across the street. Trees equaled protection. At least I could disappear easier. With a glance over my shoulder, I looked to see if any of the fae had noticed me leaving. The men in the distance moved around searching for the girl in the picture and did not seem to notice the real one slip through the trees.

Getting away from them shouldn't have been so easy, but I wouldn't question my stroke of luck. I still wasn't clear of them.

The moment I hit the tree line I ran across the park and into a neighborhood. The area had been hit hard by the ES. Every few houses were burned or in pieces. I sprinted till my lungs ached. Finally my legs slowed, protesting the intense pace. I folded over my knees, taking in gulps of air. "You all right, Sprig?" I asked between breaths, opening my bag.

"Yeah. I feel a little jumbled but not much different than some of the experiments I went through." He poked his head out.

It stunned me when he made comments like this. I was such a hypocrite. Before I had no problem with DMG running tests on fae. Now it bothered me. One big reason was because Sprig had become personal to me. He was my friend. It changed things.

"I hope Viking boy sees them before he goes traipsing through yelling for you."

"Won't he sense them or something?"

"What do you think? We smell each other or something?"

"Don't you?"

"Some species do, but those are mostly shifters. They take on their animal instincts. If their animal is better at hearing or smelling, then that's what they are like in their person form, only heightened. Sprites don't have a nose, we have intuition." He tapped at his chest. "Most fae are aware of other fae, but we don't know what they are or anything like that. It's not like we wear club pins or something."

"It would be handy if you did."

"No kidding."

"Do you think Ryker will be all right? How will he find us? We can't go back there."

"His instincts are better than anyone I've ever met. He will sense something is strange." His little monkey mouth opened in a yawn. "And he will find you. No matter where you go. Believe me..." Sprig's sentence trailed off. His head fell on the ledge of the bag, soft snores escaped his chest.

I snickered and tucked him into my satchel. I placed Pam next to him and closed the flap.

Ryker told me he would be able to find me because I held his magic. So far he had an excellent record, and I was going to believe this time he would be able to again. Before I didn't want him to, now I did.

I continued to make my way through the city. I had no specific place in mind to go, since venturing to another shelter would be suicide. Garrett either had it covered already, or he would be going soon. Going to Elthia would only put her in danger, and without Ryker's presence, she probably wouldn't be so pleased to see me standing on her doorstep. My brain mulled my minuscule option list.

"Well, well, well... look what we have here, boys." A man stepped out, cutting me off. I identified his face instantly. Sleek black hair, dark brown eyes, olive skin. The night we crossed paths in the warehouse was corroded onto my retina.

Marcello.

My defense had been active and sharp but for the wrong threat-fae, not man.

Marcello rubbed his hands together, scanning my body.

"I remember you. Where's your boyfriend?" The leader of the gang looked around for Ryker. "Did he leave you all alone? Such a pretty thing like you should never be left unattended."

An old reflex coiled. Fear of men, ones who wanted to dominate you, could never be unlearned. I spent too long fighting, defending myself. Humans were as dangerous as fae, a different danger, but probably even more terrifying.

Instead of ripping my guts out, he would tear my soul.

I sensed his men coming around the back, surrounding me. Impulse overcame me, and my legs darted for the widest opening in the group. They were on me in a matter of seconds. My fist cracked into a man's face. I twisted and kicked, hitting the groin of another. He fell to the ground, spitting saliva and swear words in my direction.

I grabbed another guy's arm and flipped him over my back. If there were only three or four of them, I would have been fine. I could handle myself in a fight, but there were at least twenty men. What really stopped me was the gun being shoved into my temple, the hammer c.o.c.ked back.

The gang leader took a step toward me, clapping his hands. "A feisty little thing, aren't you?"