The Hounds of Devotion Read online

  “How much do you figure we can make off that kind of medical stuff?” I replied, doing my best to match his tone in my own altered voice.

  “Ah, there’s always need for antibiotics and the like. We’ll make a good profit, don’t you worry.”

  “Have you got a buyer lined up already? I don’t want to try to be selling this load bit by bit. We’ll need someone eager for the whole thing.”

  Sherlock shrugged with a grin that showed all his enjoyment at getting to put on a performance like this. We’d both donned disguises for this bit of subterfuge, but while most of his face was hidden behind a false beard and makeup, his light blue eyes remained the same. When they gleamed as brightly as they were right now, I found it hard to look away.

  “I know how it goes,” he said. “I’m sure I can find someone quickly enough. We’ll have plenty of room to be flexible with the price and still have it be worth our while.”

  I couldn’t tell if any of the blokes sitting in the booths were paying attention to our conversation, but reading people wasn’t my specialty. Sherlock shifted back in his chair, giving every sign of satisfaction. If our gambit was going to land with anyone here, I supposed we’d said enough.

  I edged my chair a tad closer to Sherlock’s so we could talk without being overhead now. He reached for his whisky, neat, at the same time as I reached for my beer, and our elbows brushed against each other.

  A few weeks ago, the jolt of electricity that shot through my nerves at the contact would have set me off-kilter. A few months before that, I’d have denied it even existed. Somehow or other, with her wiles and her all-too-perceptive gaze, Jemma had changed that.

  Yes, I found the man in front of me as immensely attractive as he could be incredibly infuriating. Yes, I had acted on that attraction not just once but twice now. The first time might have been a disaster, but the second…

  The memory of our mouths colliding sent another jolt straight to my groin. Sherlock hadn’t run away that time. He’d met me halfway, and afterward he’d found it in him to admit he’d liked it, as awkwardly as he might have gotten that across.

  Having any sort of relationship, even platonic, with my roommate, best friend, and colleague had never been simple. I’d intertwined my life with his knowing that, and I hadn’t regretted it once. Now there was one more dimension to our partnership. So what if I’d never been attracted to any man other than him, and he’d never seemed much attracted to anyone before we encountered Jemma Moriarty? Navigating this new dimension might be awkward, but the feelings themselves were perfectly straightforward.

  I took a gulp of my beer, an ale with a lot less body than I’d been able to get in the last pub. “I still find it hard to believe that Jemma’s ‘folk’ influenced so many people without you catching on that there was something wrong. Do you think they’re really as widespread as she suggests?”

  Sherlock raised his shoulders again, but this time there was a hint of stiffness to his shrug. “I expect with her experience she’d be a much better judge of the particulars than we are. I’ve certainly known that various supernaturally focused cults exist. It simply never would have entered my mind that the supernatural aspect of their worship had any basis in reality.”

  “It’s not just the supernatural, though, but the intersection with the real world. The thefts, the torture, the killings…”

  “From what she’s said, the sacrifices usually are made by the cult’s own people. When they live so far apart from society, there’s no way for any official body to keep track of possible crimes. They hardly pilfer enough medical supplies and the like to draw national, let alone international attention.”

  “No, I suppose that would go against their need for secrecy.” I let out a wry laugh. “Even having seen them—having witnessed their attack on us and Jemma—it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that these things do exist. You don’t think we could have—”

  “I’m quite sure there is a ponderance of evidence in support of the creatures being real—I would never have so much as entertained the idea otherwise,” Sherlock cut in, his normally smooth tenor going sharp.

  I blinked at him. It wasn’t like Sherlock to lose even a little of his temper—certainly not in the middle of a calm conversation with me of all people. Which meant, knowing him, it wasn’t me or the conversation he was really irritated about.

  “Do you think there’s a factor we haven’t considered that could become a problem?” I asked. “Or is this whole endeavor taking too much time away from your usual cases?”

  Sherlock’s stance had relaxed again. He turned his sweating glass between his slender fingers. “Oh, no. I suspect this will be the greatest case of my entire career, even if it’ll also be the most secretive. Onward we go, and we’ll deal with any unexpected factors as they arrive. It’s an adventure, isn’t it?”

  I wasn’t sure I totally believed the smile he aimed at me, but there was no point in pushing a subject if Sherlock had decided he didn’t want to talk about it. He could lock himself up as tight as a bank vault.

  I was reaching for a change of subject with a burly guy with a yellow bandana tied around his head jerked out the other chair at our small table, spun it around, and dropped into it with a decisive thump. He crossed his arms over the back and gave us a narrow stare. My pulse immediately kicked up a notch with a rush of adrenaline.

  “You don’t look like much for a couple of guys who talk a blue streak,” the new arrival said in a growl of a voice. “But obviously you don’t have much smarts twice over.”

  “I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” Sherlock said evenly. “Care to explain?”

  The tough guy counted off his point points on his meaty fingers. “First, you come in here blathering about your plans so’s half the place knows about it already. Second, you didn’t bother to ask around before you started nosing around here with your schemes. This territory is covered. Any deals you want to make, they go through my boss. Any deals you’ve already made, we take double for the disrespect.”

  I reached for my walking stick instinctively where I’d leaned it against the side of the table. The cool firm surface against my fingers solidified my confidence. The thump of my pulse propelled the words from my throat.

  “I don’t think you can lay dibs on a whole area like that. We’ll talk about what we want where we want, and we’ll make our deals without any payoffs.”

  The man focused his dark glower completely on me. His gaze slid to the stick for a second, and his lip curled with a sneer. He had no idea that I could use that tool as effectively in a skirmish as any weapon he might be carrying on him.

  “I don’t think you want to be picking fights you can’t see through,” he said.

  Another burst of adrenaline flooded my veins. In that instant, I could taste how good it would feel to take this jerk on, to flex the combat muscles I rarely got to use, to see the shock on his face when I toppled him. It’d teach him a lesson about judging by appearances, and it’d give an extra gossip factor to help our story spread. I started to shift my weight onto my feet—

  —and Sherlock set a hand on my thigh under the table, warning me to stay in place.

  “We’re not looking for any fight,” he said, holding up his other hand in a gesture of submission. “No deals have been made yet. If you object to them happening around here, I’m sure we can take our business elsewhere.”

  The man scowled at him. “You’d better keep your partner in line. And if you’re going to be messing around in these parts, you ask after Mick first. Got it?”

  “Absolutely. I’m sorry for the confusion. In fact, I’d imagine we should be on our way now.”

  He let go of my leg and stood up, and there was nothing for me to do but follow him.

  I started to reach for my glass to toss back the rest of my beer but decided the mediocre stuff wasn’t worth it. Hefting my walking stick, I let it rap hard against the wooden floor just for the pleasure of watching the guy’s muscles tw
itch. Then I stalked out of the pub after Sherlock, walking slowly so I could keep my pace perfectly even despite the twinge of my war injury in my hip. I’d rather the thug never realized I needed the stick for anything other than an affectation.

  Sherlock headed straight to the car. Without any discussion, he got in on the passenger side, leaving the driving to me. I sank into the seat, but I didn’t turn on the engine right away.

  “I could have handled him,” I felt the need to say.

  “Of course you could have,” Sherlock said. “But that’s not what we’re here for. A bar brawl hardly seems like the type of behavior that would enamor us to a group aiming to keep as low a profile as possible. We’re looking to spread the word, not bruises.”

  I hadn’t thought about that angle. A prickle of shame ran through me. “Right. Of course. I must have gotten a little too caught up in playacting the crook.”

  Sherlock chuckled. “Well, now you can work out some of that aggression by tackling the road with much vehemence, as you’re so fond of doing.” He consulted the map on his phone in the waning evening light. “I think we can manage one more stop before we turn in for the day. Do you figure you can cover fifty miles in half an hour?”

  A different sort of thrill tingled through me. “You’d better believe it. Just remember that I haven’t gotten us into an accident yet.” In the grip of a sudden impulse, I leaned across the seats and planted a quick kiss on his lips. The feel of them, warm and dry and instinctively pressing back against mine, melted the last of my agitation.

  When I pulled back, Sherlock blinked at me, startled but with a faint flush to his cheeks that didn’t look displeased. “What was that about?” he said mildly.

  “To clear our heads?” I suggested. That was the excuse Sherlock most often turned to when he allowed himself to indulge in sexual pleasure. The thought of all the ways Jemma had heightened that pleasure made me momentarily giddy. I knew better than to push Sherlock very far, but maybe eventually we’d explore some of those avenues just the two of us.

  “I suppose that’s as good a reason as any,” Sherlock said with a glint in his eyes that looked a tad mischievous.

  I grinned back and gunned the engine.

  Chapter Three

  Jemma

  The wind rustled through the treetops as I studied the laptop’s screen where I was sitting on the hood of the rental car, connecting the final pieces of a perfect scheme. The internet connection wasn’t great here on the side of a lonely country road, but I got enough to both text with our prospective buyer and use the tracking software to confirm his general location.

  I just needed to keep the guy communicating a bit longer. That was fine. I’d like to get a little more out of him to ensure this plan’s success.

  You’ve got the numbers, I wrote. It’s a great stash. Let’s talk payment.

  My texting partner named a figure that brought a smile to my lips. Not that I needed the money, but clearly the cultist recognized the value of getting this large a collection of supplies all at once. I need a full guarantee that this deal will stay completely anonymous, he added. Only the driver and the truck—one of us will arrive to hand off the payment. If we see anyone else around, everything’s off.

  Of course. I totally understand. That’s a good amount of cash, but we’ve had other similar offers. Care to sweeten the pot? My boss is a collector as well as an investor. Art, historic relics, any sort of curiosities—if you’ve got anything like that you could add as a trade, I can make sure the goods go to you.

  That request would be all too easy for the shrouded folk’s people. One of the main ways they made money was creating and selling unusual artifacts to black magic aficionados and students of the occult. As far as I knew, most of those artifacts didn’t contain any real magic—the shrouded folk rarely imbued a permanent object with their power the way they had the dagger that had severed my contract—but hobbyists couldn’t get enough of them.

  As expected, the guy wrote back just a few seconds later. I have a friend who deals in supposedly supernatural items. Would something like that appeal?

  Oh, absolutely. He’s fascinated by the paranormal. What kind of items are we talking about?

  I could include a talisman for good fortune and a protective brooch.

  My computer pinged, the app showing a fuzzy ring on the map, from which the texts were being sent. My initial forays had been correct, then. We’d be able to sic the local police on these people without any problem now.

  Excellent. Consider the deal made, then. We’ll have the shipment tomorrow night around 11pm. Can do the exchange at midnight. Why don’t you pick the spot to ease your worries?

  The cultist mentioned a half-constructed townhouse development about fifty miles out from where I estimated the commune to be. Close but not too close. As I tapped in my agreement, a muscular figure slipped from between the trees by the car, so stealthily I only heard the faintest rasp of his feet over the ground.

  “We’ve got to get going,” Bash said, yanking open the car door on the driver’s side. With his khaki pants and broad-brimmed hat, meant to make him look like a mere hiker, you wouldn’t have thought he could pull off much gravitas, but his expression was deadly serious. “I think I got a little too close. A sentry started heading my way as if he’d heard something. I’d rather he thinks it was his imagination.”

  “Shit.” I slid off the hood of the car with a lurch of my heart and dropped into the passenger seat an instant later. Bash tossed his hat in the back and gunned the engine. He yanked the wheel to swing the car around. We roared off, back toward civilization.

  “Anyone nearby is definitely going to hear that,” I said with a teasing arch of my eyebrow.

  Bash chuckled. “I got a good head start on that amateur. No point in waiting until someone’s close enough that they would hear, that’s all.”

  “So you had me terrified for nothing.” I shook my head at him.

  His chuckle turned into a full-out laugh. “As if you’re ever really scared of anything, Majesty.”

  “You obviously don’t know me as well as you should if you say that.” I could remember with all too much vivid clarity the panicked thump of my heart as I’d scrambled onto a tall boulder on the Chilean mountainside, knowing I’d either free myself from the fiends that had owned me my whole life or die in the next few minutes.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, then. More accurately, you’re the bravest person I know.”

  That kind of compliment coming from a man who’d been through military combat as a sniper and all sorts of disreputable dealings since then was enough to send a flutter of warmth through me. “All right. That I’ll accept.”

  Bash turned the car onto the main highway. “Where are we heading? The hotel here or all the way back to London?”

  I shifted lower in the leather seat, getting comfortable. “We’ll stay here. The deal’s going through tomorrow night. No point in going to the city just to turn around and come back.”

  “Is everything set up, then?”

  “Just about. I think Garrett still has a few strings to pull, but it sounded as if everything’s going smoothly on his end too.” I folded my arms behind my head and allowed myself a satisfied smile. “I had no idea how easy a scheme like this could be to pull off with the right talents at my disposal. Maybe I should have brought cops into the operation sooner.”

  Bash let out a snort. “I think we’ve had plenty of police presence as it is the last few months. We got lots done when it was just you running the show and me taking care of everything else.”

  His tone was casual, but a thread of tension ran through it. I glanced over at him, noting the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel. This merging of resources hadn’t come easily to him. It had been just the two of us working in close partnership for a long time. I couldn’t blame him for being hesitant—I’d certainly hesitated to put any trust in our trio at all. On the other hand…

  “I’m not sur
e you should be criticizing the approach when you’re the one who arranged it.”

  Bash’s gaze jerked from the road to me. “What?” he said, but there was a hint of guilt in the flex of his jaw.

  I waved my hand vaguely at him. “Don’t give me that. Did you think I wouldn’t figure out that you tipped the three of them off at least partly so they could find us in Chile? I’ve had plenty of time to think over every step we made and the precautions I took. They definitely didn’t track us all that way in the space of a week because I let anything slip. Are you going to deny it now?”

  His jaw worked again, and then he sighed. “Are you going to be angry? I saw how the situation was wearing on you. I wanted you to have as much backup as possible for your big plan. And after seeing how things went down during the eclipse, I still don’t think I could have protected you by myself.”

  “Maybe not.” The events after I’d concluded my ritual with the dagger were kind of a blur, but I knew the shrouded folk who’d turned up had come close to killing me. “You trusted the trio that much. Don’t you trust them now?”

  “It’s not so much about trust,” he muttered. “They just don’t have the same perspective we do. We’ll never be able to talk openly about half the things we’re working on. It was only…” He sighed, and his voice gentled. “I was scared, all right. I was terrified of seeing anything happen to you. So I pulled out all the stops. That doesn’t mean I can’t want to push them back in now that they’ve done their job.”

  The words sent a softer wash of warmth through me. My hitman and I didn’t discuss emotions very often. Until recently, we hadn’t discussed them at all. Our loyalty to each other had been solid but unspoken.

  Given recent events, the way Bash had stepped up for me, and the way my own perspective had shifted when it came to both the people in this world and what I might be capable of… I’d found I might have more capacity for caring in me than I’d ever have believed even half a year ago.