“Do you really think if I went to the bother of getting this Key from you, that I would calmly hand it back?”
“If you want to ally yourself with Andarta, you will.”
Maybe it was time to give Jack the good news. “Well, you see—here’s the thing. I don’t.”
Jack was silent for a minute. “You’d turn her down?”
“Oh, yeah.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Now, why don’t you calm down and explain just why you think I have this Key.”
Piers could hear ragged breathing on the other end of the phone. Rage wasn’t the only emotion Jack was feeling, but fear as well. Bordering on terror. Andarta was never one to take failure well, and he doubted two thousand years imprisoned in a tomb would have improved her disposition.
“You should have handed it over straight away,” he murmured.
“Piss off.”
However much Piers loathed the other vampire, they had a close connection, closer than father and child. Jack had made him what he was. The transition had been against his will, and it had not gone smoothly—Piers had fought every step of the way. Back then, he would have preferred death to everlasting life. At that point, he had still believed in the gods, and that the only way his soul would be freed was through mortal death. And Andarta and her machinations had put an end to that possibility. Jack had been her servant, and she’d thought to make Piers another.
She’d underestimated him and paid the price.
“You have to have it.” Jack spoke again, desperation clear in his voice.
“Tell me what you know. Where was it hidden?”
“At the house I was staying in.”
“The one the police raided?” Piers asked.
“You know about that? So it was you?”
“No. I knew about the police raid—I warned you it was only a matter of time. They had your picture. So could the police have taken the Key?”
“No way. It was hidden—by a spell. I’m not a fool. Whoever found it must have used magic to break the spell and reveal the hiding place.”
“A witch or warlock working with the police? I don’t think so.” Piers was thinking furiously, though. “What else?”
“I questioned one of the police officers.”
“You did?”
“Don’t worry—he won’t remember.”
“So what did you learn?”
“There was a woman working with the lead officer on the case. She wasn’t police; in fact, the others had never seen her before. She went in first and came out before the officer. Are you going to tell me that’s she’s not one of yours?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Whoever has your Key, it’s not us.”
“Us?” Jack muttered. “I still can’t believe you’re working for this set-up.”
Piers didn’t bother answering. He sometimes found it difficult to believe himself. And he was eager to get back to whomever this person was who was assisting the police, because he was beginning to have a few ideas, and they weren’t making him happy. As soon as he got rid of Jack, he’d call his men trailing Roz and tell them to be extra vigilant.
“You know something,” Jack said when Piers remained silent.
“Well, if I did, I’d hardly be telling you, now would I?”
“Don’t you think you’ve had your pound of flesh—two thousand fucking years’ worth of flesh? So I turned you—if I hadn’t you’d be ashes and dust by now.”
“I know, and surprisingly, I’m grateful. That doesn’t change the fact that you turned me without my consent.”
“I had no choice. Andarta wanted you.”
“And what Andarta wants, she gets?”
“Yes.”
“Well, not from me.”
“It will hardly be my problem if I don’t get that Key back—she’ll finish me.”
“And I’ll cry—really I will.”
“Fucking sarcastic bastard.”
“You are aware that’s it’s my job to stop Andarta,” Piers pointed out reasonably.
“Yeah, but I figure you don’t want this Key loose in the world either. In the wrong hands…”
“Couldn’t get much wronger than you and Andarta.”
“You loved her once,” Jack said. “And better the devil, you know.”
“Jesus, were you always such a cliché?”
Jack was silent again. Piers considered putting the phone down so he could get back to the problem of Roz. But he suspected that Jack had more to say.
“Did you like the little nun I sent you?” Jack asked.
For a moment, Piers presumed he was referring to Roz, but then realized he must mean Sister Maria. Jack actually knew nothing of Roz. He didn’t even know there had been anyone else left alive in the convent that night. “A little too skinny for my taste.”
“But you kept her there?”
“And how would you know that?”
“You think I wouldn’t be watching that place. Besides, I left my mark on her. I can find her again.”
Piers’ senses went on alert. Now, he definitely needed to contact the people trailing Roz. He didn’t trust Jack. Maybe he believed he could snatch Sister Maria back and use her as some sort of leverage, but why would he think anyone would care about the sister? Or maybe he just didn’t like unfinished business and that’s what the sister was to him.
Either way, Piers couldn’t let him get near. Jack obviously had allies, powerful ones, if he was using magic. And a whole load of lesser demons at his call from the description Maria and Roz had given of what went down at the convent—though hopefully, he couldn’t bring them across without expending an enormous amount of power. At least not without the Key.
Jesus, this was making his head hurt.
He had questions to ask Roz, and if she did have this Key, she’d better hand it over. She’d definitely left that part out of her storytelling last night. Why? At a guess, she still planned to hand it over to her demon protector in exchange for her freedom, and he couldn’t really blame her. He’d probably do the same if he’d been indebted to some demon for more than five hundred years. But while he couldn’t blame her, he still wouldn’t let her get away with it. The Key was too powerful. In the wrong hands—and that was probably any demon—it could be a powerful weapon. Also, if the fae caught a whiff of the fact that it still existed, he was going to have to deal with them—and he hated dealing with the fae. He’d no doubt have that bastard the Walker on him again, as though the Order had nothing better to do than babysit a bunch of fairies.
There was only one fae—or half-fae, at any rate—that he wanted anything to do with right now, and that was Roz. He wondered who her father was. She bore no resemblance to any fae he’d ever met, though the majority of them kept to themselves in the Faelands. Then he dismissed the issue —it was unimportant. Her father was hardly likely to come into the picture. No, Roz was nothing to do with the fae; she was his.
The thought surprised him. But he liked her, and not just for the sweetness of her blood.
“You’ve gone very quiet,” Jack said. “What are you thinking about?”
Roz. But perhaps he’d rather not share that with Jack. “That perhaps it’s time we got you off the streets.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t just lock me up at our last meeting or…” He trailed off, probably deciding it might be better not to put the options into words.
Piers grinned. “I’m considering the ‘or’ at the moment.”
“Bastard,” Jack muttered. “You’ll have to find me first.” And he hung up.
Straight away, Piers called the crew who were watching Roz. “I need you to up the surveillance. Whatever you do, don’t lose her.”
“Too late, boss. She’s already given us the slip.”
“Shit.”
Chapter Twelve
“We’re being followed.” Roz had known it from the moment they’d stepped outside the building. “Don’t stop,” she muttered as Maria ground to a halt. Maria shuffled forward. “And don’t look back,” Roz added as Maria started to glance behind her. “We don’t want them to know we know.”