Chapter Fourteen
The underground community of Ţărână
7:52 P.M.
Hands stuffed deep in his pockets, Breen leaned back against a wall in the shadow of the Teague Sisters’ Dance Studio situated across the street from Three Friends’ Place and watched Charlize though the restaurant’s glass front. She was the chef on shift tonight for the grand reopening, and the place was packed.
Along with a lot of other people, the same couples who were at the tasting party were there—Dev and Marissa, Gábor and Chelsea, Lara and Kardos, Thomal and Pandra. Not Amza or Hadley or Breen, though. Breen couldn’t be sure about the first two, but he knew he wouldn’t have been welcomed.
All the diners were giving Charlize a lot of compliments, and she seemed to be really riding high on them all. Every time someone stopped at the tall counter to gush, her eyes would shine when she smiled. That was cool to see.
What blew was that he had to sneak around in order to see it.
Over the last month he’d made a habit out of spying on Charlize a lot, catching her at Cosmopolitan Night with the girls, at hip-hop dance class, at the running club she’d started. He also bumped into her here and there in their apartment building—she lived only two doors down—which had given him the opportunity to move things along with her.
Which he’d failed at miserably.
One time they met in the hallway, and he took grocery bags out of her arms and carried them into her apartment for her. Then stood by her kitchen, awkward and silent, before saying, “Okay, ’bye.” A couple of other times he stepped onto the elevator at the same time she did. He said, “Hey.” Then just stood there, awkward and silent, until the doors whished open, and then, “Okay, ’bye.”
Big surprise that there remained nothing between them.
So how’s the restaurant biz going?
Are you still planning to run marathons?
Why couldn’t he have made his voice box produce shit like that? Strike up a casual, friendly conversation with her, be suave, make it okay for her to hang out with him.
He scraped his fingernails over the seams at the bottoms of his pockets. He wasn’t a smooth talker on his best day, but lay the pressure of the future of his entire relationship with Charlize on his conversational abilities, and his tongue pretty much went into hyper-lock. He couldn’t—
His cell vibrated.
He reached down and fished it out of his bottom pocket.
Inside the restaurant, Dev, Gábor, and Thomal went for their phones at the same time.
The Special Ops Topside Team was called to Toni’s office on an emergency summons.
They dropped everything to go—not that Breen was doing anything more important than spying on his wife—and when they arrived, Jacken, the warriors’ overall boss, was already there, along with Alex Parthen.
Toni’s brother, who had blondish-reddish hair like his sister, was a seer of many things by virtue of him being both a Soothsayer—his enchantment skill—and a computer expert. He was the type of guy who probably had his ass cheeks duct-taped together a lot in high school, dressing the part in tan Dockers, a plaid button-down with a pocket protector, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Alex was bonded to Dev’s sister, Luvera, and they had a son, named after his father, but in the Romanian tradition, Alexandru. They called him Alec.
Dev, Thomal, and Breen lined up in front of Toni’s desk, while Gábor plopped down on the couch.
Breen glanced over his shoulder at him.
Gábor stretched out, lacing his fingers behind his head and crossing his feet at the ankles. “Just tell me who I need to kill.”
“What’s up?” Dev asked Toni.
Toni held out a piece of paper to Dev. “An old email account Alex monitors just reactivated. It’s the one the Topside Om Rău used four years ago when they kidnapped Marissa and Hadley.”
The Topside Om Rău were a relatively new faction of bad guys run by Raymond Parthen, Toni’s uber-powerful father. For clarity’s sake, the community referred to these guys as the “Topside Om Rău,” and Ţărână’s nasty neighbors living in Oţărât as the “Underground Om Rău.” Usually the two demon races had nothing to do with each other, but four years ago, the Topside Om Rău arranged to give Marissa and Hadley—and another woman named Kendra—to the Underground Om Rău. The Spec Ops Team stuck a pin in the plan by saving the three women before the handoff could be completed.
Dev looked up from reading the message. “They’re planning another exchange?”
Toni gestured at the paper. “It appears so.”
Thomal’s eyebrows shot up. “Doesn’t that break the truce?”
“Not necessarily,” Jacken stepped in. “The Underground Om Rău agreed not to steal our women from down here. There’s nothing in the contract preventing them from going for women topside.”
Dev rubbed a hand over his goatee as he reread the email. “It still doesn’t make sense. The Underground Om Rău don’t have the resources for that kind of shit anymore, not since the war.”
“Agreed,” Toni said. “I don’t like this.”
“Me either,” Alex said.
Dev glanced at Alex. “Any visions about it?”
Alex sighed thickly. “No.”
As a Soothsayer, Alex could sometimes see the future, but only if the future involved the Vârcolac. Alternatively, a lack of visions didn’t mean the Vârcolac were free and clear of trouble, just that the spiritual world was staying out of it.
“I could ask the Underground Om Rău about the authenticity of this message,” Toni suggested, “see if it actually came from them. But that would entail me leaving a note in the neutral zone, waiting for them to obtain it, read it, and answer. If they even responded.”
Thomal was peering over Dev’s shoulder at the message. “This handoff is going down within an hour after the sun sets topside. Tonight.”
Toni checked the clock on her desk. “We have nine, ten hours to get an answer.”
Dev shook his head. “According to what Jacken just said about the fine print of the truce, the Om Rău are under no obligation to tell us dick about what they get up to when they’re topside.”
Toni made an open-handed gesture.
On the couch Gábor burped.
Dev’s mouth tightened. “Are we just going to ignore this?”
Thomal growled low in his throat. “Not sure I could live with myself if we did, brother.”
Toni looked at her husband. “Jacken?”
“No, we’re not going to ignore this,” Jacken clipped out. “Have your team head to the address listed in the email and observe only. Get dialed in on what’s really going down with this bullshit, and don’t act unless fully warranted.”
Dev set the paper on Toni’s desk. “I can live with that.”
“Be careful.” Jacken crossed his arms. “I don’t like this, either.”