Bite This! (A 300 Moons Book) Page 4

  When she looked back up, he raised an eyebrow at her again and she flushed instantly with embarrassment that he’d caught her checking him out.

  “I told you I was getting ready,” he said playfully.

  “Search the room. Make sure you’re thorough,” Pink snapped, shaking her head as if to take herself out of the trance of staring at Finn’s body. At least Darcy wasn’t the only one.

  Finn sighed and stepped aside, gesturing with a ridiculous magician-like flourish at his tiny dressing room.

  “I’ll bet you $500 they don’t find anything,” he murmured to Darcy, shooting her a wink.

  To her surprise and horror, Darcy blushed again.

  “What’s this?” Draven asked, pointing at a large wooden box. It looked really old, and genuinely pretty mysterious, making it seem out of place among the various bits of flashy magical paraphernalia scattered about.

  “That’s the Aztec Tomb,” Finn offered without explanation.

  “Open it,” Viking said flatly.

  “No can do, I’m afraid. If I show you muggles how it works, they’ll kick me out of the Magicians’ Guild,” Finn said.

  Darcy stifled a laugh.

  Everyone else stared.

  “I’m kidding. It’s got a false back. Here, look,” he reached over to open it up. “You should probably get back to work, I’ll catch up with you later,” he said to Darcy as he fiddled with the box.

  “Yeah. I’ll do that,” she said. “Good luck.”

  “Never say that. It’s ‘break a leg’,” he corrected her. “Although maybe we shouldn’t give these guys any ideas.”

  He gave her a confident wink.

  She rolled her eyes and turned to the door, his low chuckle ringing in her ears.

  “Be careful with that,” he continued as she left the room. “When things disappear in there, I’m not really sure where they go. And I can’t always bring them back.”

  Darcy walked slowly down the hall, smiling at the thought of Finn. Standing in his underwear, surrounded by people who wanted to do bad things to him, and still making jokes and flirting shamelessly.

  What was his game?

  The kid obviously wasn’t there, or he wouldn’t let them search.

  So where was he?

  There was no way for Finn to tell her with those two around.

  Or was there?

  He would have needed to be sure they didn’t pick up on it. Like some kind of code.

  If only she could remember what he had said instead of what he’d looked like. Damned magician. What right did he have to be built like that?

  She remembered her embarrassment and then his words echoed in her head.

  I’ll bet you $500 they don’t find anything…

  Shit. Her clutch.

  She must have left it on the counter at the coffee bar when the kid showed up.

  She began to run, dashing along the edge of the hallway, slowing when she saw clientele leaving the ballroom.

  At last she reached the dining room. Pushing past customers in line for the sundae bar, she reached the counter where she’d dropped her clutch.

  There was nothing there.

  “Hey, Darcy, looking for this?” the barista reached under the counter and came back up with her clutch.

  “Thanks,” Darcy replied. Most of the staff knew her name, since it was unusual for a female cooler to be in charge. She tried her best but couldn’t remember the barista’s name. “I appreciate it, babe.”

  “Maggie, it’s Maggie. Pretty crazy scene, huh? What was that all about?” she asked.

  Darcy smiled blandly and ignored the question, running her hand along the inside lining of the clutch.

  In the side pocket, next to the $500 chip from last night, she found a set of keys.

  She’d never seen them before.

  She pulled the keys out to examine them. A random assortment - one that looked like it might unlock handcuffs, a larger car key that said Jeep, and a shamrock encased in clear plastic.

  Finn’s keys.

  8

  The cool autumn air swirled around Darcy’s bare shoulders.

  It was always strange to come out of the womb-like ambiance of the casino and into the gray indifference of the Philadelphia streets. If Stackhouse could have catered in fresher air and bluer skies from the parking areas to the front doors they would have done it.

  Darcy jogged across the street to the parking garage, not allowing herself to run until she reached the staircase, out of view of the public eye.

  She took the stairs as fast as she could, finally emerging at the top level, where employees were supposed to park.

  As soon as she walked into the moonlit open parking area her stomach sang with burning pain from the tattoo.

  And her senses receded.

  Gone were the sounds of talking in the lot below, gone was the scent of the pigeon droppings.

  Could this have something to do with her 300th moon?

  There was no time to think about it. She had to find the kid.

  Habit caused her to lift her nose to the sky but she couldn’t scent out Finn’s car like she should have been able to do.

  Frantically she dug the keys out of her purse and pushed the lock button.

  She was rewarded with a beep and a flash of lights a few rows down.

  Relieved, she walked toward it briskly, shivering a bit in the air, which had suddenly gone much colder than it was when she’d walked out the casino doors.

  Before she could reach it, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

  God, it was impossible not having her keen sense of smell. Darcy felt suddenly vulnerable, an unfamiliar and odious sensation.

  She froze, her racing pulse the only sound to reach her ears.

  She scanned the area, but found nothing.

  Pursing her lips, Darcy headed for the Jeep again. Another flash of movement, this time in a different row. Something dark and sleek.

  The shadows rippled again, this time closer to her.

  She knew it had to be Draven, no one else would hide from her. But how could they have possibly gotten here before Darcy?

  She lifted her nose to the air and breathed in deeply, hoping against hope for a clue.

  Nothing.

  She slowed her breath and pulse to a crawl, straining for the sound of footsteps.

  Nothing.

  It was more than just dull senses.

  Whatever was up here with her wasn’t natural.

  As if to confirm her suspicions, a piece of the shadow from a nearby car wriggled and then broke away to melt into a form of its own.

  It whirled and writhed for a moment before coalescing into a doglike shape.

  The shadow-dog lowered its nose to the ground.

  Was it looking for her? Trying to sniff her out?

  Did it have something to do with the kid?

  The shadow hound took a step in her direction.

  Darcy’s tattoo screamed with fresh pain.

  It wasn’t about the kid. It was about her 300th moon.

  Talk about shitty timing. Darcy needed to get out. Now.

  Fighting her instinct to run, she leaned down next to the beat-up minivan next to her, and held herself motionless, barely breathing. Maybe the shadow thing would pass her by.

  She couldn’t smell or hear it, but she sensed its presence through the radiating pain in her navel.

  It crept closer still.

  Darcy used to play hide and seek with her brothers back at the farm. This was the hardest part, the moment when your pursuer had nearly found you. The boys were always too scared, too impatient. They would scream as soon as the seeker came near. But Darcy had been good at hide and seek - the best. Once she’d hidden in her bed in plain sight and they hadn’t noticed her among her toys when they’d glanced in her direction, because of her iron will to stay still and not give up until they had announced her presence.

  She called on all of that patience now.

  At la
st, the creature was close enough that she could see it. Her own breath plumed in the freezing air.

  The shadow stepped delicately past the van, the smoky tendrils of its ears and tail curling away into nothingness.

  It stopped right there for a terrible moment, then lowered its head and passed her by, searching the next row with an eerie patience that was distinctly un-doglike.

  Darcy forced herself to count to two hundred, then dashed past the van to Finn’s Jeep at last.

  She opened the door as silently as she could and slipped herself inside.

  Only when the doors were locked again did she allow herself to look around the car.

  The boy sat curled up in the backseat, swimming in Finn’s too-big shirt and jeans, looking both adorable and pathetic. So that was what had happened to Finn’s clothes.

  She smiled in relief and he grinned right back at her.

  Darcy felt a pang of joy. He wasn’t so far gone then.

  She scanned the garage and saw no sign of the shadow dog or the goon squad. Good.

  “Get your seat belt on, okay, buddy?” she said over her shoulder.

  She started the car and headed for the exit ramp.

  They had nearly reached the rectangle of light that would signify they were out on the street, when the shadow creature appeared directly in front of the car.

  It rose up on its hind legs, shifting into something vaguely man-shaped.

  Darcy’s tattoo erupted in agony.

  She eased her foot off the gas.

  The kid moaned - a small, scared sound in the darkness of the backseat.

  Fuck it.

  Darcy gunned the engine and pointed the Jeep directly at the shadow.

  Bracing herself for impact, she pushed the pedal to the metal.

  They passed through it without slowing. There was no resistance at all – like there was nothing there.

  She checked the rear view mirror.

  The shape reformed behind her and lunged toward the Jeep.

  She was so focused on it, that when her eyes went forward again she almost screamed.

  Finn had stepped into the street, waving his arms to flag her down, and in her preoccupation, she had nearly run him down.

  She screeched the brakes and hit the door lock.

  He hopped in and slammed the door shut.

  “Where are you headed in such a hurry?” he joked.

  Darcy’s eyes found the rear view mirror. The shadow thing was catching up.

  “Anywhere but here,” she said and floored it.

  Horns blared as she crossed two lanes of traffic and ran a red light.

  9

  Finn wrapped his hand around the grab bar and said a small prayer as Darcy flung his beloved Jeep heedlessly into traffic.

  Though he was certain he was about to die or be badly injured, it in no way impeded his enjoyment of the ironic fact that he would go down as a passenger in his own car, clinging to the oh-shit handle and praying silently, just as his mother always did when he took her for a quiet ride on the weekend. Mom had been right after all, this thing was a death trap.

  When the last of the screeching tires and horns had finished their chorus, he looked over at Darcy.

  She was Latina, so her skin was the same pretty tan as always, but he still would have described her face as pale. Her eyes were wide, lips pulled thin.

  Finn had never, ever seen Darcy rattled. And he’d witnessed her in action on more than one occasion, including just now when she was dealing with the goon that tossed his dressing room.

  Those guys had frankly scared him a little, especially the creepy lady in the pink suit giving the orders. He’d heard them call her Miss Sharp. The guys seemed like they might rough him up a little - no big deal, and he knew he could hold his own if he had to. But Miss Sharp… She seemed like she would have liked to put him in a birdcage and make him sing.

  Darcy took a hard left, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her tendons stood out.

  Something had gotten to her.

  And Finn was pretty sure he wanted no part of anything that could unsettle Darcy.

  He tried to stay quiet and help her by being on the lookout for anyone who might be following them.

  Darcy careened and curvetted a seemingly random route through the southern part of the city, past the newly constructed luxury condos and the old shipyard.

  At last they were on the ramp onto the highway.

  As far as Finn could see, no one had followed them.

  Darcy headed south.

  He could see her expression relax slightly as soon as they were rolling along at sixty five. But her eyes kept drifting back to the rear view mirror.

  “Where are we going?” Finn asked carefully. “It doesn’t seem like we’re headed to the police station.”

  “That’s the first place they’ll go. And then that awful woman—” she began.

  “—Miss Sharp,” he heard himself interrupt her to correct.

  “Whatever. She’ll have the kid back in a heartbeat, and we’ll be on the hook for kidnapping,” Darcy said.

  Oh.

  Well, he hadn’t thought of it like that.

  Shit, she was right. And he wasn’t about to spend any more time looking at the inside of a cell.

  “I guess both of our places are out of the question,” he mused.

  “If it was just the kid, I’d bring him right to my family. They’d know just what to do. But I’ve got something else going on,” she said, glancing nervously in the mirror again, “and I can’t bring that to their doorstep.”

  Instinctively, Finn looked over his shoulder to the road behind them. There was nothing unusual, just the same herd of cars heading down the highway at a relatively measured pace.

  He chose not to push the issue.

  “So where, then?” he asked.

  She bit her lower lip, suddenly looking young.

  Finn wondered exactly how old Darcy was. He had always seen her as capable, sexy, confident, more than an equal. Suddenly she seemed vulnerable. And like maybe she was in her late twenties, not her early thirties like he was.

  “We need to find somewhere we can wait for help. Somewhere public, but off the beaten path, and open all night,” she reflected out loud.

  “A hotel lobby? A CVS? A hospital?” Finn offered.

  “No, I’ve got it,” she replied.

  They drove in silence for a while, the gray of the buildings and the spaceship look of the airport fading into trees and swamps.

  They were really in the country now as far as he was concerned. Finn had grown up in a row home with four sisters. All his family lived on the block. The park on the corner with its six trees was the closest thing to the wilderness he had experienced. Even now, Finn considered anything west of 69th street to be the ‘burbs, and even Drexel Vale with its close-set neighborhoods of Tudors with adjoining garages was practically spooky in his eyes.

  This right here though, this felt borderline abandoned.

  How could the bright lights of the city be less than an hour behind them?

  Darcy pulled off of I-95 and onto a side street. Little clapboard houses sat like islands on seas of green grass. As they traveled, the homes got bigger and so did the trees that lined the streets. Gigantic colonials and epic Victorians peered out from behind the massive oaks and sycamores - porches with flags stretching out like waving hands. One of them literally had a picket fence.

  Finn could practically feel a ring growing on his hand and 2.5 kids springing up in the backseat.

  Oh man, the kid.

  He glanced back.

  Unbelievably, the boy was sleeping. He looked a bit like a shrunken Finn, curled up in his big shirt with too-long dark hair brushing the collar.

  That would be a good trick. Except that the union wouldn’t want a kid performing in a casino.

  He had no time to think about it, because Darcy was pulling the car into a parking lot.

  A sign in front proclaimed

&nb
sp; The Barry White Diner - Open 24/7 for a little slice of Heaven

  Nice.

  10

  Darcy sat with her back to the wall of the corner-most booth of the Barry White Diner, feeling as safe and secure as any woman who had just kissed her employment good-bye to save a magician and a kid from a shadow demon-infested casino parking garage could be.

  The kid was warm and cozy by her side. He clearly felt right at home with her, like he knew she’d had dozens of little brothers and sisters over the years at the farm.

  Or more likely because he had seen that she could kick butt and haul ass like a race car driver and that for whatever reason she had decided she would rather lay down her life than see him come to harm.

  Smart kid.

  He’d even let her comb out his messy hair and roll up the sleeves and cuffs of the shirt and jeans of Finn’s that he was wearing, so he looked slightly more presentable.

  No one in the crowded diner was staring. Tarker’s Hollow was like that - residents were prone to turning a blind eye to the unusual.

  The kid still wasn’t talking though. Something had really shaken him up.

  Darcy grabbed her coffee and swallowed a bitter black sip to assuage her anger. It was scalding and delicious - just the way she liked it.

  Across from her, Finn lazily watched the cream drift out of the container and swirl into his coffee.

  She tried not to stare as he added so much sugar that his spoon could probably stand up in the cup.

  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small metal flask, unscrewed the lid, and unceremoniously poured some of the fragrant brown liquid into his coffee.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  He smirked and tilted the flask in her direction, offering it to her with a wink.

  Dammit, she felt her cheeks get warm again. She needed to get out more, Finn was hot, but she shouldn’t be blushing like a school girl.

  “I’m good,” she said. “Why are you always winking at me?”

  “Seems like you like it,” he replied, grinning wickedly.

  “Well, I don’t. It’s… it’s…”