I winced at yet another pothole Yasha found. “Nothing.”
I was kneeling between the driver and passenger seats. The truck’s shocks were a thing of the past and were almost as worn out as I was.
Not that I wanted to watch the Russian werewolf’s kamikaze driving; in fact, I’d be happier not knowing how close we’d come to death any number of times. However, I usually called shotgun for a reason.
I was the poster child for car sickness. But with Ian literally riding shotgun, I made do the best I could and tried to convince my stomach and its contents of Coke and cookies not to leap into my throat every time Yasha found yet another pothole. I wasn’t even gonna allow myself to think about the state of my bladder. I’d been in a perfectly good ladies’ room, but thanks to the two leprechauns cuffed to one of the racks in the back of the delivery truck, I hadn’t had a chance to use it.
We were actually getting a signal from the tracking device, meaning that wherever Rake Danescu had taken Finn through the Rotten Egg Portal of Doom, at least they were still in our dimension. While we were following the flashing dot on Ian’s phone—yep, SPI had an app for tracking chips embedded in a leprechaun’s butt cheek—there was no time like the present to get some answers from my partner.
I was coming down from the effects of the clover weed, so while I wasn’t quite as forthright in my behavior and opinions, I felt like I was more than due some straight answers.
“When were you going to tell me I’m walking around wearing a bull’s-eye?”
With that, I had my partner’s full and undivided attention. I would have crossed my arms for visual effect, but they were occupied, death-gripping the cookie racks to keep me from ricocheting off the sides of the van, so I just went with a glare.
“Who tol—?” Realization hit. “Danescu. I should have known.”
“I should have known, too. You know, the boss knows, the hot bad guy—”
“Hot?”
“Hey, I thought we’d already established that. Besides, I’ll be honest if you will. I wasn’t told that taking a job as a seer at SPI came with an expiration date. Danescu told me I’d been lied to, and asked if I’d like to know why. I’d like that very much—without a side order of bullshit.”
Ian scowled.
“Sir,” I quickly added.
He ran the hand not holding the shotgun over his face, and for a moment, I got a look at Ian Byrne, just a tired guy with too much on his plate.
“There have been accidents—” he began.
“What kind of accidents involve exsang—”
“What at first were thought to be accidents.”
“You know differently now.”
“Without a doubt.”
“And I was hired to be the fourth sacrificial lamb because SPI needs a seer.”
“There were no sacrificial lambs. Yes, SPI needs a seer, now more than ever. My mission is to ensure that you’re alive to work for us for many years to come. Contrary to what Rake Danescu may have told you, and what you may now believe, Vivienne Sagadraco values each and every one of her employees. She takes the loss of any agent hard, and personally.”
At that, I felt bad about implying otherwise, but not bad enough to take back anything I’d said. They’d known what had happened to my predecessors. I’d been clueless, and they’d kept me that way. I’d signed on thinking I was getting a cool job with great insurance—not a ticking time bomb to a death sentence.
“We believe a powerful supernatural entity is planning a major event,” Ian said. “And they’ve killed three of our seers to keep it covered up. One death could be an unfortunate accident. Two is highly suspicious.”
“And three means an evil plot.”
Ian nodded. “That’s how we’re treating it, and that’s why Vivienne Sagadraco assigned me as your partner.”
“So you’re not a babysitter for the newbie; you’re a bodyguard for the next Dead Seer Walking.”
“There aren’t going to be any more deaths.” His expression darkened. “At least not on our side.”
“So I take it that ‘major event’ hasn’t shown signs of happening yet?”
Ian hesitated. “No. It hasn’t.”
We both knew what that meant. As long as I worked for SPI, and as long as the unknown “they” were still weaving their evil plot, I’d still be sporting a bull’s-eye.
“Rake Danescu offered me a job,” I said quietly.
The only thing that little factoid got out of my partner was a raised eyebrow. “Interesting.”
“Just interesting?”
“Also unexpected. Danescu doesn’t work with humans. He must need a seer badly.”
“He said it’d be the same work I’m doing for SPI, with an immortality bonus clause. Don’t worry,” I hurried to add, “I’m perfectly happy with just plain old major medical.”
“Sounds like Danescu doesn’t know any more about all this than we do.” Ian’s eyes narrowed. “But if he wants you—”
“You’re preaching to the choir. My granny told me all about strange men offering candy.”