Kindling The Darkness. Jane Kindred
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had fixated on him. They weren’t the boss of her. And they’d subside on their own in a few days if she could just keep her shit together.
Her phone, which she’d tucked into the waistband of her underwear, buzzed, and Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin. Jesus. Who needed a...whatever Finn was...when you had a vibrating phone? On second thought, Finn had been decidedly more satisfying. Just not...satisfying enough.
It buzzed again, and Lucy hitched up her skirt and yanked out the phone and answered. “Lucy Smok.”
“Are...you okay?”
Oliver’s deep voice rumbling against her ear made her wet. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You just sound a little funny. Sorry. I wanted to let you know that we’ve had another sighting.”
Lucy sat up straight. “During daylight?”
“Sort of. It was in one of the mine shafts.”
“Did it attack?”
“No, some tourists caught sight of it and got the hell out of there. They’re here at my shop now. Do you want to come interview them?”
“I’m in Sedona, but I can be there in forty-five minutes.”
It would take too much time to head back to the villa for a change of clothing, but she kept a “go bag” under the seat, a habit from her days of globe-trotting for Smok Consulting.
Lucy stripped off the dress where she sat, ignoring the looks from a couple who’d pulled into the space next to her, and wriggled into the garments she’d pulled from the bag: a pair of soft faded jeans and a comfortable shirt from her alma matter that she liked to travel in. After trading her heels for a pair of white slip-on sneakers, she was on her way. Dusk was just settling over Mingus Mountain as she made her way up.
* * *
Oliver did a double take when he came to unlock the door. This was a decidedly different look for Lucy. In a pair of well-worn jeans and a gray rugby shirt that said University of Oxford, she was wrapping her loose hair into a makeshift knot at the nape of her neck as she stepped inside. Her beet-stain lipstick was even more striking with the casual clothing.
“They’re in back, having some hot chocolate.” Oliver nodded toward the Hendersons sitting on the couch by the counter. “They were pretty spooked, but they’ve calmed down some.”
Despite her uncharacteristic attire, Lucy introduced herself to the couple with her usual cool professionalism. “I’m Lucy Smok. Can you folks tell me what you saw?”
Mrs. Henderson held her mug between her hands as she looked up. “We found one of those old mine shaft openings out near the park. You’re not supposed to go inside, but we just wanted to take a quick look around, and I think we...woke...whatever it was.”
Her husband continued. “I thought it was a dog, but it was huge, like a wolfhound. Shaggy.”
“And it smelled terrible,” Mrs. Henderson put in.
“I figured it must be a stray, and I took a step toward it...and its eyes shot open.” Mr. Henderson shuddered. “They weren’t...right. We hightailed it out of there, and thank God it didn’t follow.”
“Tell them what you heard,” Oliver prompted.
Mr. Henderson hesitated. “It’s going to sound ridiculous.”
“It spoke,” said his wife.
Lucy had been looking slightly bored and annoyed at the pedestrian encounter, but she perked up at that. “It spoke?”
“It’s crazy, I know. But I swear—”
“What did it say?”
Mr. Henderson studied Lucy with surprise. “What did it say?”
“You said it spoke. I assume you mean words. What did it say?”
“Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to believe us. I mean, Mr. Connery was very understanding, and—”
“What did it say?”
He swallowed. “It said, ‘Give my regards to the...the Queen of the Damned.’”
“It had to have been someone in a costume,” Mrs. Henderson cut in. “I mean, it was very convincing, horrifyingly realistic, but of course it must have been a person.”
Lucy was quiet, obviously thinking intently.
Oliver pushed himself away from the chair back he’d been leaning against. “We really appreciate you letting us know about this, no matter how odd it may seem. Ms. Smok is absolutely the best person to figure this out.”
Lucy gave him an odd look.
The couple rose, recognizing that their exit was being announced, and Mr. Henderson shook Oliver’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Connery. Ms. Smok. I’m not sure how much we helped.”
“You’ve been a great help,” Oliver insisted as he walked them out. He turned around after locking up and shuttering the door to see Lucy sitting on the couch, staring at her hands poised on her thighs. “Did that mean something to you?”
Lucy’s head shot up. “What the hell could it possibly mean to me?”
Oliver tucked his hands into his pockets as he neared the couch. “You just looked pretty startled.”
“I was shocked that it would speak to a victim.”
“But maybe they weren’t intended to be victims. Maybe it was sending us a message.”
“Or me, you mean. You think I understood the message.”
“Do you?”
Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “It means I need to get out there and find this damn thing.” She rose decisively. “It’s getting dark. I’m going to go check out this mine shaft. Where is it?”
“That thing tore your shoulder open last night. You need to let it heal.”
“I told you, I’m fine. I’m a fast healer.” She tried to walk past him, but he sidestepped in front of her.
“Let me take a look at it. You should have gone to a hospital today instead of rushing off to wherever hunting things.”
“As a matter of fact, I saw my doctor. She took a look and said it was fine. She approved of your stitching skills.”
“Is that so? Then you won’t mind if I verify that you’re healing.”
If Lucy’s eyes could start a fire, he was sure they would be doing it now. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
Lucy glared at him for a moment. “I’m trained in Systema. Russian martial arts.”
“I’m familiar with it. I’m pretty sure I can take you.”
“Take me?” Lucy’s stance seemed to turn instantly rock hard and immovable, a promised threat emanating from her, though she hadn’t moved. “I seem to recall you ending up on the ground under me the last time you tried.” After a split second’s pause, her skin grew flushed. With anger, presumably. But he was getting a weird vibe.
“I wasn’t actually challenging you to a fight.”
“You just said you could take me.”
“You brought up your Systema skills. Which seems pretty strange, because all I suggested was that you let me look at the stitches and see how you’re healing. Is there some reason those are fighting words to you?”
Lucy let out a slow, deliberate breath, as if trying to breathe out her own anger—a gesture he was familiar with. “No, I suppose not.” They stared each other down for another few seconds before Lucy unexpectedly crossed her arms in front of her waist, grabbed the