Shadow's Messenger: An Aileen Travers Novel Page 3

  “What about dinner?”

  “Not hungry.”

  “But-“

  “Put it in the fridge. I’ll eat it later.”

  I grabbed my bike and headed out the door, not even bothering to lock it behind me. The door only slightly muffled the sound of crying. I pressed one hand against the cool wood.

  “I’m sorry, Jenna,” I whispered. But this is something you can’t help me with, and I can’t explain without putting you and myself in danger.

  Every point she made was valid. What she hadn’t said, but what everyone in my family was thinking, was that I’d come back from Afghanistan changed. They attributed it to some form of PTSD or a problem with alcohol. They thought I was having trouble adjusting to civilian life again and that my job was a symptom of my problems.

  They were wrong, but I couldn’t explain that without revealing what I was.

  The number one rule of my new world was to keep its existence a secret. Breaking that rule meant death for everyone involved. Since I didn’t want to see my friends and family die, that meant sucking it up and letting them think what they would.

  My phone chimed, signaling I had a new text.

  I dug it out of my pants pocket, thankful I’d had the presence of mind to grab it when I was getting dressed. Without it, I wouldn’t know what jobs Hermes assigned me.

  The message said, ‘Come into the office. Now.’

  Huh. Most jobs were assigned by text. It meant I only had to go into the office when I needed to fill out paper work which was rare. In fact, I think I’d only been into the office five times in the nearly two years I’d worked for Hermes.

  Guess I was heading in.

  Thirty minutes later I parked my bike in front of an old brick building in the Warehouse District. The area was a little run down and many of the buildings around here were abandoned, but recently there’d been a resurgence of interest in this part of town. Luxury housing companies started buying up the warehouses and converting them into high end apartments. Young professionals were willing to pay top dollar for the open floor plans, exposed brick and old feel.

  I doubted Hermes office building would be among that revitalization. Hermes’ owner, Jerry, was old, though you’d never know it to look at him, and he didn’t like change. That’s what I’d heard anyway. I’d only met him a handful of times since coming back to the city.

  I walked around the building to a door with a keypad next to it. That was new.

  This might be a problem. I didn’t know the code.

  My phone chimed. The text message had 4649# on it.

  Convenient.

  I looked around but couldn’t see any cameras or people watching. Not that I really expected to. The few times I had met Jerry he had really embraced the whole creepy ‘I know what you’re thinking before you do’ air of mystery.

  I inputted the code and wasn’t particularly surprised when it lit green and the lock clicked open.

  The inside was at total odds with the run down exterior. The enormous expanse looked taken care of and well lit. Lights turned on one by one, highlighting a raised dais in the middle of the warehouse. Despite the fact there were no internal walls, the dais looked like any high end office with a nice rug covering wooden floors, and several leather chairs arranged in front of a cherry oak desk.

  I blinked, noticing the stern mountain of a man bent over the desk and the red headed woman standing next to him with an armful of papers.

  My steps echoed in the wide open space as I headed toward the quasi office. Neither of the figures at the desk turned to pay me any attention, continuing with their work as if they couldn’t hear my approach.

  Reaching the dais, I paused, unsure of the protocol. There wasn’t a door to knock on and it seemed rude to just step up onto the wood. Last time I’d been called into the office, it hadn’t looked like this. There had been actual rooms with walls.

  “You may have a seat.” Jerry’s low base voice rumbled through the air.

  I stepped up, my footsteps almost instantly muffled by the thick woven rug. There were four chairs to choose from. I picked the closest.

  Jerry and his assistant, a woman I hadn’t seen before, kept working, leaving me fidgeting in my seat.

  Was I supposed to initiate the conversation? He had summoned me. Not the other way around.

  “Blood,” the red head said suddenly.

  I jerked, barely stopping myself from holding my hand up to my mouth and huffing. Did my breath stink? I’d brushed this morning but perhaps hadn’t taken as much time as I should have given the drama going on in my house. Some species in the supernatural world had a heightened sense of smell and could detect when you rushed your hygiene.

  “Would you like me to get you a bottle of blood?” she enunciated slowly when I didn’t respond.

  Oh. Jerry must have told her what I was. That was the second time in as many days that someone had ambushed me with the knowledge.

  “No. I drank before I came.”

  Her face didn’t shift expression, but it felt like she sniffed disdainfully.

  Naw, I was being paranoid.

  “Aileen,” Jerry rumbled, “how long have you been with us?”

  Slightly thrown by the shift in topic but hoping the question would lead to me getting more responsibility and by extension more money, I answered, “Just under two years.”

  “Twenty months and twelve days,” the woman inserted.

  “That sounds about right,” I answered slowly.

  If they knew down to the day, why bother asking the question?

  “How do you like things so far?” Jerry leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his bulk.

  I fumbled for an appropriate description. Somehow I didn’t think either of the two would appreciate the word ‘ok’. “It’s interesting.”

  Jerry tapped a folder in front of him. “Looks like you have a perfect record in your deliveries.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off by the woman. “You cut it close last night.”

  “Yes, there was an accident on Fifth.”

  “We don’t need excuses,” Jerry said.

  That was a familiar refrain from my days in the military. I almost let it pass, but I wasn’t in the military anymore. I didn’t have to play by its rules.

  “It wasn’t an excuse; it was an explanation. As you can see from my record, I ended up making the delivery on time.”

  Both stared blankly at me.

  “Am I in trouble for something?” I asked.

  “Should you be?” the woman asked.

  I could feel my temper rising and took a deep breath. Anger made me hungry. Hunger made me dangerous. I was pretty sure Jerry could wipe the floor with me if it came down to it.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But it’s certainly starting to feel like it.”

  “You’re not in trouble, Aileen,” Jerry assured me. “We’re just trying to determine if you’re qualified for a job with special circumstances.”

  Intrigued, I asked, “What sort of job?”

  “The kind where you don’t ask questions,” the woman said.

  Ignoring her, I spoke to Jerry. “Why haven’t you reached out to one of your other couriers?”

  As much as I would like to think my hard work had earned me this chance, I knew better. All of his other couriers had been doing this much longer than me. They were also much more powerful than me and didn’t come with as much baggage.

  “They’re otherwise engaged,” Jerry said.

  “Ruth?”

  “She’s on her way to Beijing.”

  “Harry or Catriona?”

  “Harry’s on bedrest after an encounter with a siren and Catriona is out on a different delivery. Everyone is out.”

  “So it’s not that you think I’m qualified, it’s that I’m your only choice.”

  His lips tightened as he dipped his head in a small nod.

  I sat back. If Jerry was willing to risk his company’s reput
ation on me, this job must be important. That meant danger. And lots of it.

  “How dangerous?”

  “Your cut would be $10,000.”

  “So life threatening then.”

  Jerry grunted.

  I’d never made more than $500 on a job. I was lucky to get away with a few broken bones, and minor cuts and bruises up and down my entire right side on that job. I couldn’t even imagine how dangerous a $10,000 job would be.

  My brain couldn’t help tallying up the bills I could pay with that sum. I could even put a little away for a rainy day. Get some breathing room.

  “Think I’ll pass.”

  As welcome as that money would be, I couldn’t spend it if I was dead.

  The two exchanged a look. The woman tilted her head at me and nodded. Jerry sighed and picked up a pen, twirling it between his fingers.

  “Refusal isn’t really an option at this point,” he said.

  I stiffened. “Since when?”

  “The fact is that you weren’t hired under our normal methods,” the woman inserted, taking over for Jerry. “Our shielding you from detection could have extreme consequences for us.”

  I looked from her to Jerry then leaned back, slinging an arm over the back of my chair. For all that he was the boss, Jerry looked trapped. His face said he wanted to be anywhere but here.

  “Uh huh,” I said slowly. “And?”

  “We need you to start bringing more revenue to the table,” she said crisply. “In essence, you’ll start by being assigned higher profile jobs. We expect you to complete those to satisfaction.”

  Right. Higher profile jobs. I.e. more dangerous, life threatening jobs.

  The slow burn of my temper kicked up a notch. I didn’t need the money or this job bad enough.

  “Guess that means I’m fired then,” I said.

  “No, no, that’s not what we’re saying,” Jerry hurried to insert.

  “What are you saying then?”

  There was another shared glance. Once again the woman took the lead, “We would like you to take this job.”

  “Pass.”

  The woman’s face turned dark, and she opened her mouth to speak. It was quite entertaining to watch. Made my smart ass comment worth it.

  Jerry got there first. “Aileen, I would take it as a personal favor if you were to do this job.”

  That might change things.

  One thing I’d learned since my transformation is that favors carried more weight than money. A favor from an influential or powerful being was worth a lot. They could be collected and called in at the owner’s leisure. You never knew when something like that would come in handy. It’s how I got this job in the first place. If it hadn’t been for that favor the captain called in, I would be in a very different place. One not quite as comfortable and one that definitely would have meant letting my family think I was dead.

  “Any limits to this favor?”

  “Nothing that will put this organization at risk.”

  “Not a very useful favor then,” I observed.

  “You’re not really in a position to negotiate,” the woman said. “Think of what would happen if word of your existence got round to the wrong people.”

  Vampires were rare. Very rare. We were supposedly powerful, though you couldn’t tell that from me, but we took time to grow into that power. For the supernatural world, I was basically the equivalent of an infant.

  Vampires also existed in clans or families. It was practice that if one of the vampires in a clan managed to successfully turn a baby vamp, their progeny would be raised in the clan for one hundred years. It was basically an indentured service. A sort of ‘hey, thanks for totally disrupting my life. Now let me devote the next hundred years to your interests and goals and pray you don’t get me killed in the meantime.’

  Not really something I wanted any part of. I’d had enough of being the good little soldier while in the Army. Don’t get me wrong. Being a soldier was one of the best, most worthwhile things I’d done. It gave me discipline, made me grow up and opened my eyes in ways that most civilians will never experience. I wouldn’t change a minute of it even if I knew I’d end up as a vampire, never again to sit on the beach roasting myself under the summer sun.

  Besides, I’d never been much of a joiner, the sole exception being the Army.

  “So you’re threatening me now?” I asked, looking back at Jerry.

  “No, that’s not what we’re doing.” He quelled the woman with a look. “I’m asking that you step out of your comfort zone to do me a favor.”

  He must have been pretty desperate to push like this. It made me wonder why he didn’t just do the delivery himself or send the woman. I still hadn’t quite figure out what she was but from the confrontational way she positioned herself at his shoulder I assumed she had some power. That or she just wasn’t afraid of the baby vamp.

  It would be a mistake to take this job.

  “Fifteen thousand and no limit on the favor.”

  “You-”

  “Done,” Jerry said firmly.

  I nearly whistled in appreciation. Hadn’t really thought he would go for my conditions.

  He selected a folder to the right of him and slid it over to me. Though her face hadn’t changed expression since I sat down, the woman’s presence nearly boiled with frustration. It was unsettling. Most people, their eyes shift, their mouths smile or tighten. They fidget or gesture. This woman could have been a statue.

  I couldn’t figure out what she was. Not a witch. For all their power, they were very human in appearance. She didn’t have the same feel as a shifter.

  “This has all the information you need. The pickup is near Easton. You need to be there by ten or the punishment clause will kick in.”

  “And that is?”

  “That’s between you and the client. You’ll get more details from him once you make the pickup.”

  Already I was rethinking my agreement in taking this job. It was a quarter after nine now. It would take me nearly an hour to ride my bike all the way over to that area of town.

  Before I could protest, Jerry reached into the desk drawer next to him and withdrew keys. I caught them before they could hit my head.

  “Take Cherry. Your bike isn’t going to be fast enough for this job.”

  I stared at him wordlessly.

  What sort of job was this? And who the hell warranted this level of caution?

  The keys were scarier than the veiled and not so veiled threats of before. Cherry was Jerry’s baby. She was a candy apple red 68 Ford Mustang GT/CS, hence her name. I’d never heard of Jerry lending her to anyone. He did, however, break every bone in a gnome’s arm when he had the audacity to touch Cherry’s paint with his dirty hands.

  I stood. Jerry’s attention shifted back to the paperwork in front of him.

  “And Aileen, I don’t think I have to tell you to bring her back in the same condition I lent her to you in.”

  I nodded quickly. “Of course.”

  My footsteps echoed in the warehouse as I stepped down from the dais and walked away. My priorities for that money had shifted. It was now earmarked for a down payment on a car. I never wanted circumstances to force me to borrow Cherry again. My luck was just not that good. Hopefully, it would hold out for the night and I could return the car to Jerry undamaged.

  Chapter Three

  “I’m here to see Mr. Barret,” I told the receptionist, who was busy typing.

  “Name.”

  “Aileen Travers.”

  “He doesn’t take walk-ins. Please schedule an appointment and then come back,” she said without lifting her eyes from the computer.

  “He should be expecting me. I have an appointment for ten.”

  The clacking of the keys paused, and the receptionist finally looked up. She scanned me skeptically. I fought not to fidget. I couldn’t help being a bit self-conscious in my tight athletic spandex pants and bright yellow fleece. I’d thrown a beanie over my hair before I left th
e house, and I was wearing my fingerless gloves. I’d dressed for riding my bike in fall. It was hardly the professional attire she was probably used to.

  She pulled up a screen on her computer. “There is only one appointment for ten.”

  “Yes, it should be for Hermes Couriers.”

  She arched one eyebrow. “You’re with Hermes?”

  Nobody ever believed I was with Hermes. I didn’t know what it was about me that caused such doubt.

  I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out my employee ID, holding it out so she could see.

  “Please take a seat until you’re called.” She pointed one long finger at a trio of uncomfortable, modern looking chairs.

  I checked my watch. It was 9:50. I had ten minutes before the pickup time. I could wait and hope he consented to see me before the deadline. On the other hand, this could be a test to see if I had the assertiveness needed for this job.

  I’d never been one for waiting.

  Ignoring the protestation behind me, I walked over to the double doors and pushed them open. Since there was no real attempt to stop me, I assumed I’d made the right choice. It was easy to find my way as the double doors led to a hallway, which led to a conference room unlike any I had ever seen.

  It was nearly the size of a basketball court, which by itself would have been amazing considering this building didn’t look big enough to house a room of that size. The show stopper, the thing that made me catch my breath and drew my attention upward, was the night sky twinkling on the ceiling. It wasn’t a projection or painting either. The clouds actually moved, obscuring some of the stars. The moon looked so close and bright that I felt I only needed to reach out my hand to touch it. The sky was as beautiful as any I had seen in the mountains of Afghanistan. Better because I knew it should have been impossible to see from this room or even in Columbus. Too much light pollution here to see the sky in this clarity. If not for the four walls surrounding me, I would have sworn I was standing in a field far from the city staring up.

  I’d always had a thing for the stars. Once upon a time I wanted to be an astronaut or at the very least an astronomer. If not for my very real deadline, I could have spent hours staring.

  “Magic,” I said softly. It was impressive. Probably more than any I’d yet seen.