Chapter Nine
Marcus adjusted his new belt for the umpteenth time. It was comfortable, surprisingly so, interwoven with nylon webbing and secured to his body by a strap around his left thigh. Thanks to it he could carry three extra knives, a screwdriver set and strap the field medical kit snug against his lower back. The fact that Riya had designed and made the belt had disconcerted him at first.
Yet it wasn’t like he could complain. It was practical, helped streamline his equipment and was much appreciated by his fellow Warriors, who had quickly strapped and secured their equipment into the new belts upon receiving them.
Moving along the darkened sixth floor hallway of the Montague, Marcus had to give the belt further props for being all but weightless and noise-free. None of his equipment jangled or annoyed him as he followed Rafe and Flynn down the strobe-lit hallway. With practised movements Marcus adjusted the strobe light clipped to his Kevlar vest, angling it lower, then switched to the wide angle pan for the camera attached to the right side of his vest. They were in hunt mode, filming the search for Lefty Lucci, resident poltergeist.
Well, that’s how Benny would edit the footage.
In reality, according to Daniel, they were looking for a bunch of wayward Imps. If they could find their den, then it would be a matter of setting a few traps, baiting them with lighters, tacks and tubes of superglue. Anything that had the potential to promote mischief. Once the Imps had taken the bait, the traps would close and they would transport their trouble making Imp asses to somewhere a lot more remote.
The trio halted on Rafe’s signal. They were making fast progress checking out the sixth floor where the re-fit was about fifty percent complete. Meaning a lot of the rooms were all but empty. Still, Marcus could tell from the floor plan and the materials, that this was going to be a five-star venue when it was finished. The rooms would retain a 1920’s vibe, but be full of puzzles, trap doors and tunnels to keep the clientele entertained and surprised.
Flynn communicated via a quick flourish of hand signals. Marcus took the room on the right. Rafe, the left. Flynn remained in the corridor, ready to help if either of his fellow Warriors required back up.
Marcus pushed the door open smoothly, entering cautiously. The wooden floors were laid in this room but had yet to be stained. From the faux fireplace in the corner and all the half built bookcases he was guessing this was intended to be a study or some kind of fancy mob boss’s office.
Moving forward several steps, Marcus listened for any scratching or scrabbling from within the walls or ceiling, playing his strobe light over the room, allowing the camera to pan slowly. The room was spacious, there was a large bar, all but finished, off to one side. Management were no doubt hoping their clients would be willing to guzzle over-priced drinks as they solved the clues to escape the room, or move on to the next level of their adventure.
No furniture made it easy to see that there was in fact little to see in this room. A couple of tools laid down in one corner, waiting for their owner to return to collect them. Next to them lay a pile of discarded wood off cuts from the bookcases. Marcus moved to the door off to the left, an almost completed bathroom. Made sense. Swilling all that alcohol and trapped in a room, a bathroom was a must. So that was it.
The slightest of sounds made him pause, the faux fireplace. He’d heard a scrabbling… something. Moving deeper into the room he noted the light drizzling rain was still falling outside. New York was having a heatwave. And the miserly rainfall was doing nothing but making the city feel steamier.
Without curtains the neon lights flickering outside were a little distracting so Marcus could not be hundred percent sure if the electrical sconce on the left side of the fireplace pulsed ever so briefly to life, or if it had been a light refraction. The second time though, he was sure of what he had seen and closed in to investigate.
Pushing back the visor of his Para-X cap, Marcus studied the sconce carefully, he wasn’t fool enough to touch the damn thing. It might look dead, but if the Imps were messing with electricity, then playing it safe was the wisest move.
He leant over cautiously to get a better look at the fireplace. He’d no sooner taken his eyes off the light fixture when it blazed harshly for a split second, suddenly the floor beneath Marcus’s feet dropped away and he was falling. Shit.
He didn’t fall far, but it was an abrupt landing, jarring his knees. Fuck. The ceiling or trap door or whatever it was had closed shut over his head. He swivelled, playing the strobe light around. Off to one side of the cubby sized room there was a pile of thick padding stacked against the wall. He could only assume it would be laid on the floor eventually, wouldn’t do for future clients to be breaking bones on that fall.
Marcus tapped his earpiece, but the comms line was dead. Glancing down at his camera, he noted the red light was on, meaning the feed was cut. He called out Flynn’s name. But couldn’t hear any response. Soundproofed. Also making sense.
Off to the left he noticed a chute. Hmm, there was a ladder leading down to one of the lower levels. Marcus looked up, the ladder had yet to be installed in that direction. So, his next step should have been a simple one. Head down. But just as he was about to step on to the first rung he heard a voice. The slightest of whispers carried on the still, stifling air that smelled of sawdust and glue.
“Daddy?”
So faint. Barely audible. But every instinct Marcus had seized up. There was a kid in here? Or was it the Imps playing even more tricks?
It sounded again, softer, fainter, but with a slightly more urgent edge. “Daddy?”
Damn, it was coming from one of the upper levels. The voice drifting down the unfinished chute. Pulling at him. The smarter play would be to climb down the ladder, rally the team, go look for the kid as a unit. But Marcus was a Warrior, he always followed his instincts.
Sliding out two of his biggest knives from the holsters strapped to his calves, he contemplated the dark tunnel overhead. Pitch black. Well, Marcus could fix that, adjusting the angle of his light. Hmm, plain drywall. He wasn’t going to win any friends on the construction crew for what he was about to do, but fuck it.
He leapt, driving the two knives deep into the sides of the chute. For a moment he hung in the air, feet dangling, until he ripped out one knife, reached up and plunged it back into the wall, dragging himself up slightly higher. And just like that, through sheer brute strength, Marcus began to climb.
* * *
So this was what it was like to film a reality show that hunted down the supernatural? Riya shifted silently, easing her weight onto her right leg, her left had gone to sleep… again. Exploring the Montague with the Maat Warriors probably would have been fun. Being stuck up here, on the eighth floor level, watching Daniel and Dimity talk into the camera was five kinds of boring.
Everyone had a job to do but Riya. Pepsy was on camera duty. Vivian standing behind him, studying the feed. Benny was bent over the paranormal array of equipment set up nearby, monitoring the panels of blinking lights, switches and dials.
Biting back an impatient sigh, Riya glanced around the large spacious room, the bar, speak-easy, was going to be all glitz and glamour when the design crew finally completed everything. And they weren’t far off. All that was needed was the soft furnishings, like curtains and cushioned seating for the row of intimate booths along the back wall.
Tucked safely out of camera line, Riya brushed the hair back from her sweaty forehead, watching as Vivian turned and began making her way stealthily across the recently stained wood floors to Riya’s side.
Absently, Riya fanned herself with her hand. The air was still and warm in here. Smelling of sawdust, wood and paint. She was glad she’d thought to twist her hair up, keeping it anchored with two silver chopsticks. She was wearing practical black knee length camo pants, similar to the ones Dimity had on. But Riya had paired hers with chunky black shit-kicker boots, perfect for walking around a building site at night with a lot of discarded tools lying around on the floor. For a touch of high fashion, Riya had on a snug black singlet top over which she wore a loose, gauzy, black sleeveless top studded with tiny silver stars.
“Can you do something about this?” Vivian all but pleaded in a low urgent whisper.
“Such as?”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. But this is take twenty-two and we’ve barely got any usable footage, even if we edit hard.”
Riya sighed. Dimity, considering she spent an awful lot of time taking selfies, was not a natural in front of the camera. She kept stuttering, losing track of her lines, blushing and apologising. “I might have an idea. How attached are you to the script?”
Vivian shook her head. “If you get me footage in the can, I could care less.” Vivian called cut, instructing Pepsy to re-set the scene once more.
Riya cleared her throat. “Dimity, a word?”
Dimity looked sidekick suitable in her dark grey knee-length fitted camo pants and matching silky top, paired with soft kid boots. Her chestnut glossy hair was up in a sensible pony-tail. She looked sassy, capable and cute. Even if Riya did say so herself, considering she’d designed the outfit.
What wasn’t working for the outfit was the uncertainty and dismay that was evident in Dimity’s eyes as she moved to Riya’s side. “I’m ruining this, aren’t I?” Her gaze shifting unconsciously in Daniel’s direction, who was currently engrossed in checking out the equipment readings over Benny’s shoulder. A heavy blush once more stealing into the girl’s cheeks.
Damn, Dimity was majorly crushing on Daniel. And he was all but oblivious.
“Here’s what you need to do. Forget the script. Just talk to Daniel.”
“Talk?” Dimity’s eyes widened with fear. “What would I say? I… he…no.”
“Okay, nix that. Don’t talk. Ask him questions?”
“Questions?”
“Men love to talk about things they’re interested in. For Daniel, it’s the history of this place. The scientific equipment. The supernatural. Just ask questions, trust me, you’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Dimity took a step to the right and studied her reflection in a gaudy, narrow, floor to ceiling gilt mirror. “Is my make-up alright? I don’t have any dirt on me, do I?”
Riya held up a pen light she’d tucked in her pocket and played it over Dimity from head to toe. Brushing a smear of sawdust off the girl’s hip. “There. And maybe you just need a little powder to take down that shine.” She was about to lean over and trawl through the cosmetics bag lying at her feet, when out the corner of her eye she caught a flicker of movement beneath the nearest half completed booth.
Instinctively, Riya straightened, stepping forward quickly to shield Dimity. For her trouble she was hit both low and high, as two shadowy small figures leapt off the wall, slamming into her at shoulder and hip height. Riya just managed to push Dimity to the side as her momentum sent her slamming back against the mirror.
Except, instead of hitting and rebounding off the glass, the mirror gave way, spinning Riya around. What the… she was in a tiny cupboard like room. Through the one way mirror she could just make out Dimity getting to her feet, staring in shock at the mirror through which Riya had just disappeared. Daniel and the rest of the crew were running to help.
Damn. Riya played the penlight she still had in her hand over the edges of the mirror, looking for a way to trigger the secret door. Nothing. She directed the light over the walls and was just contemplating the floor when it suddenly dropped away. She fell like a stone.
It was a slide, what a relief. Her penlight refracting off the metal sides brightly. It must be part of one of the adventure puzzles. Riya barely had time to worry about where the slide would lead when she spied the exit point. Oh, oh, she watched as the metal door clunked shut, then opened and snapped closed once more. Again and again. Like a large, deadly, steel mouth. Damn, Riya didn’t think it was supposed to do that. It could very well chop her in two.
Shit. Shit. Thank the Merciful Lady, she’d worn sensible boots. Quickly Riya applied the rubber heels to the metal surface. Ouch. Ouch. Her whole body shuddering as she sought to slow… stop her forward momentum. The metal mouth looming closer. Snap. Riya pushed down harder with her heels. Snap.
* * *
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Vaughn contemplated his wife walking beside him, the silvery flimsy summery dress she wore flattering her creamy complexion, making her clear grey eyes sparkle with reflected glints of silver while it set ablaze her short curls. Her hair gleaming like fire-lit rubies.
Hadleigh smiled, pleased. Anyone else complimenting her, she might have considered punching them in the throat. But this was Vaughn. She knew he was sincere. Phew, so far this date thing was going really well. Okay, they hadn’t actually left the building yet. But her husband had been suitably awestruck by the effort she’d made to dress up tonight.
And she hadn’t heard the word baby emerge from his mouth once as yet.
Which was another thing she liked about this dress. The sparkly neckline might have been a touch low and a bit too decorative for her taste, but the empire waistline and the flowing material that fell to just above her knees meant that at least from the front, you could barely tell she was pregnant.
Feeling happy, Hadleigh tugged on Vaughn’s hand pulling him close, leaning up on tip-toe to plant her lips briefly against his.
“Not that I’m complaining. But what was that for?”
“Stolen kisses, remember?”
A large grin appeared on Vaughn’s gorgeous face. “Yes, I do. So, where are we going on this date?”
“You’ll see.” Hadleigh led the way through the apartment she’d resided in when she’d first arrived at Maat Tower. In the bedroom she halted before the closet door where she’d set up a Transportal. Placing her palm against the door, Hadleigh pictured their destination and then walked in to the closet, tugging Vaughn along with her. Two seconds later they were stepping out through a door marked - Equipment, onto a colourfully lit causeway full of flickering lights and noisy people. “Ta-da.” Hadleigh grinned, pleased with her surprise.
Vaughn looked around, recognising the amusement park where he’d taken Hadleigh on their first date. Being a warm summer evening it was packed with couples and families; laughing, talking and squealing in delight. He winced slightly at the wall of noise. Hadleigh couldn’t be serious, could she? All this noise. The crowds of people. The dangerous rides. “We can’t stay here.”
“What?” Hadleigh looked up to double-check that her husband was being serious. All her happiness draining away as she noted he definitely had his grim face on. “Why not?”
“I would have thought that was obvious. This kind of environment, all this excitement, these people, the noise, it’s not good for the baby.”
Hadleigh fisted her hands, resting them on her hips as she contemplated her gorgeous, annoying husband, her blood beginning to boil. “You must think I’m an idiot.”
“Of course I don’t think that.” Vaughn noted that the crowd around them was smartly giving them a lot of space suddenly.
“No. You must. Otherwise why would you be running around after me constantly, feeling the need to supervise me twenty-four seven. Snatching knives out of my hand. Locking me out of the weights room. Coding all the gym equipment to a moderate level. Force feeding me kale salad for every meal. Every time I turn around you’re hovering, invariably with a glass of milk in your hand. I hate milk. You know that. You…” Hadleigh was hurt, and beyond frustrated. Whirling, she started stomping away from her husband before she said something she really might regret.
“Hadleigh.”
“Don’t follow me.” It was lucky the sparkly diamante flats Riya had left outside her door before she’d flown off to New York were nice and cushy. Good comfortable stomping footwear was hard to come by when you were six foot six inches and had correspondingly large feet.
“Hadleigh.”
She veered left, stomping down a dark pathway alongside the cannonball mountain ride. The humid air smelled of chlorine. What were the chances they would end up back at the bench where Vaughn had outlined their first date rules? Damn excellent by the looks of things.
Hadleigh sat down, gaze flicking up to watch as a log shaped boat full of people sped down the ramp, sending up a wave of water.
“Hadleigh?” Vaughn sat down beside her. His gut was clenched so tight he was afraid he’d snap in two. The sight of Hadleigh walking away, it all but undid him. “I’m ruining this, aren’t I?”
“Well as dates go, it’s not my favourite.” Hadleigh groused, eyes locked on the next boat as it started its descent down the steep incline.
“No, not the date. Though I suppose I’ve ruined that too. I meant us. I’m ruining us. Driving you further and further away… and the tighter I try to hold on, fix things, the further away you get.”
A stab of sharp pain tore through Hadleigh’s heart. Vaughn sounded so miserable… and alone. “I think I’ve been doing my fair share of pushing away.” She recalled what Riya had said, about Vaughn being terrified. “You know the baby and I are going to be fine, right? Thousands are born every day.”
“Not like this baby.” Vaughn’s tone was low and terse.
“Nell assures me Lump is in perfect health.”
Vaughn shook his head, running fingers through his shaggy white blonde hair, causing it to stick up in weird directions. “Do you know all the ways things can go wrong during a birth? Not just for the baby, but for the mother?”
Hadleigh turned on the bench, grabbing Vaughn’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “You know I’m scared too. Not because there is anything wrong, but that it’s all so weird and I hardly recognise my own body.”
Vaughn grimaced. “And I suppose me hovering and quoting statistics and health tips at you all the time hasn’t helped. In fact, thanks to me, you’ve been miserable for the past few weeks.”
“Not miserable… frustrated, uncomfortable. Trust me, with a baby jumping up and down on your bladder you don’t ever get to forget about it, but it would be kind of nice to have a conversation that didn’t end with the words – because it’s good for the baby.”
Vaughn squeezed Hadleigh’s hand lightly. “I just… I have all these what ifs going around and around in my head. What if something happens to the baby? What if the delivery goes wrong and you’re in pain… or worse?”
Hadleigh shook her head, curls bouncing. “Nothing is going to happen. Nell will be there. You know she’s the best and thanks to the Transportal system, only seconds away. And you heard Maat insisting that she wants to be in the delivery room.” Hadleigh shuddered slightly at the thought. The Goddess her husband served was a renown meddler and stickybeak.
Vaughn smiled slightly for the first time since he’d sat down. “That actually doesn’t help.”
“Well, instead of hovering over me twenty-four seven, make yourself useful, talk Maat out it.”
Vaughn gazed into Hadleigh’s clear grey eyes, By The Sands, his wife was beautiful. “I’m sorry.”
“She is technically your employer, I don’t think you need to apologise for her.”
“Not for Maat, for me, the way I’ve been behaving. I just don’t know what else to do, to keep you and the baby safe.”
“Viking, the baby and I are not in any danger, except from me being bored out of my mind. My only hobby is beheading people, and thanks to Lump it has been a long time between beheadings. Maybe you could try and be a little less Matron and act like my husband. Distract me. Talk to me… and not just about the baby and baby stuff. You know this will be our last chance to be together, just you and I, maybe we could take advantage of that.”
The barbed wire hooks that had sunk into Vaughn’s gut retracted just that little bit more. “You do know that kale is a really good source of iron? And that milk is full of calcium?”
Hadleigh chuffed a laugh. “I did know that, so does Nell, my doctor, who swears I am very, very healthy. You know, I didn’t bring you here tonight to go on any dangerous rides. I just thought it would be… romantic to come back here, walk down a few dark paths, hold hands and-” Hadleigh blinked as Vaughn leaned forward and planted the briefest of kisses on her lips.
“And maybe get in a few of those stolen kisses?” Heat shimmered in those burnished golden eyes.
“Yes.”
“Maybe we could re-enact that hot kiss in the Haunted House? That’s if we can still squeeze into the ride.”
“Hey, are you implying I’m fat?” Hadleigh punched her husband, actually managing to rock him sideways slightly.
“No.” Vaughn planted another kiss on her lips. “Never. You’re perfect.” He pulled her to her feet, grabbing Hadleigh’s hand and tucking her in close to his body. “Before we head over to the Haunted House, let’s hit carnival row.”
“Any particular reason?” Hadleigh snuggled in closer still.
“Have you ever tried Whack-a-mole? It won’t be as exciting as beheading anybody, but you can sure as shit beat the hell out of a few electronic moles.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“And you know what else sounds like fun… you and me, tonight, I’ve been reading that a healthy sex life right up until the baby’s born is encouraged by most top healthcare professionals.”
Hadleigh sent Vaughn a heated look, fluttering her eyelashes, hoping that she didn’t look like she had grit in her eyes. “Sex? On a first date? Just what kind of girl do you take me for?”
Vaughn grinned, staring down at Hadleigh’s belly. “Damn, dating is hard. All the rules.”
“Just wait until you hear the second date rules. You up for a movie date tomorrow night?”
Vaughn leaned down, kissing his wife, and this was no gentle brief stolen moment, this was passionate and heated. Full of love and promise.
Hadleigh sank into the kiss. Huh, and Vaughn acted like it had been hard to woo a Warrior. Amateur.