Chapter Fourteen
Roz must have managed to sleep eventually. She woke feeling terrible, then remembered why and felt even worse.
How were Ryan and Maria feeling right now? That blood-sucking bastard better not have touched them.
Thinking about blood-sucking bastards brought back the scene with Piers, and she pulled the pillow over her head and groaned. At least she would never see him again. Hopefully she would be long gone before he got up out of his coffin—or wherever it was he spent the daylight hours. Why didn’t that thought make her happier?
After showering, she dressed quickly in jeans and a T-shirt, sneakers on her feet just in case she had to run. Then she sat and sipped a cup of coffee while she decided what to do first. The truth was she needed help, and she had very limited choices. Before she left, she checked her cell phone. There were three messages from Shera. Asmodai must be looking for her. What a surprise—but he’d have to wait. It would do him good.
She took the private elevator down to the reception area. The place buzzed with activity this morning, but it was nine o’clock, the start of the working day for most ordinary people—and the people milling about appeared very much like ordinary human beings.
The woman from the other day was behind the desk. She didn’t appear to recognize Roz in her normal gear, which was hardly surprising—people tended not to see beyond the nun’s habit. It was what had made it such a good disguise.
“I need to see Jonas,” she said. She realized she didn’t have his last name. What was she supposed to say—Jonas the “warlock”? She had no clue whether this woman was aware of what went on below ground…Though she had known Piers, and she’d been wary of waking him during the day, so chances were she knew of the Order.
Roz hoped she could help, because if she couldn’t then she was going to have to contact Tara. And she’d rather not do that, because Tara would tell Christian and Christian would tell…
“I’m afraid Jonas is not in the building right now.” She gave Roz a dazzling smile that was all on the surface.
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“He’s probably at the Crooked Hat.”
“The Crooked Hat?” Where the hell is that?
“It’s a public house in the East End. Jonas lives there when he doesn’t stay here.”
“Okay, can you give me the address?”
“No problem, Ms. Fairfax.” So she did know who Roz was. The woman scribbled an address down on a notepad by her desk and handed the paper to her. She glanced at it before shoving it in her pocket. “But Mr. Lamont left orders that if you wanted to leave the building, then Carl would take you wherever you would like to go.”
“Carl?”
Didn’t she remember Tara mentioning a Carl? Wasn’t he a werewolf? She was almost tempted to let him take her just so she could meet him. She’d never met a werewolf before, and today would be her last chance. But she could do without being lumbered with a bodyguard she would no doubt have to lose at some point during the day.
“He’s head of security here. I’ll call him for you.”
Roz smiled. “No, don’t do that. I’d much rather take a cab.”
The woman opened her mouth but Roz didn’t wait for her to speak, just turned around and strode out of the building. She half-expected someone to stop her, but she was out on the street without anyone trying.
It was a gorgeous day and she tried not to think about the fact that it was her last. Instead, she headed off at a fast walk and managed to pick up a cab a couple of blocks down. She gave him the address of the Crooked Hat.
The journey took forty minutes, mainly because the traffic was so busy at this time of day. He finally let her out in a pretty rundown area—a mix of residential houses and small businesses. The Crooked Hat was a pub, with a sign over the door showing a wizard’s tall hat, slightly bent in the middle. The pub appeared no better than the rest of the area, the dark red paint peeling off the door.
She pushed through. For a moment, she stood just inside while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The place appeared deserted, but then someone moved behind the long bar that ran the full length of the far wall.
A young man, polishing glasses, glanced up as she approached. “We’re closed.” His tone was sullen, and Roz didn’t waste her time with a smile. Instead, she kept on coming until she came to a halt by the bar.
“I’m here to see Jonas,” she said.
“He’s not here.”
She reached out with her Seeker power and sensed the warlock’s presence somewhere close. “Yes, he is.”
“How…?” His mouth snapped shut, and he studied her for a moment. “You’re from the Order?”