Page 42 of Deader than Dead
The mention of O’Reilly had me grimacing. There was only so long you could ignore the elephant in the room. I rolled onto my back so I could make eye contact. “She knows where we both live.”
“She does,” John agreed with no inflection in his voice.
“Doesn’t that worry you?”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know.” We both looked toward the nightstand as his phone started up once more. Again, he made no move to answer it. “If we think about it logically, though…”
I propped myself up on one elbow, ready for him to make me feel better. “Go on.”
“You can’t give her the mask. It’s back where it started, and if she could have got hold of it herself, she would have done that. But the man we met in the graveyard, he said that the mask chose, that if it hadn’t wanted to be taken, you wouldn’t have seen it. I’d lay odds on you not being the first person they’d sent in there. You were just the first person the mask let take it.”
It wasn’t becoming any less strange to discuss the mask like it was a sentient being. “Why though?”
John shrugged. “Who knows? To bring you and me together. To recruit us as future helpers. Some other reason. We may never know.”
Yeah, there were definitely unanswered questions about the mask. Like what was stopping it from happening again? Perhaps they moved on once it had been discovered. Neither of us had thought to ask the pertinent questions we should have done. Probably understandable, considering everything that had transpired, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Hopefully, the mask wasn’t a threat anymore. Which brought us back to O’Reilly. The mask might not be a threat, but she could be. “What if she wants revenge?” I asked. “You took out a lot of her men in a rather unpleasant way.”
“I did,” John said with a slight smile. “More fool her for not realizing the ramifications of taking a necromancer to a graveyard.”
“Seriously, though?”
He thought for a minute. “I think she’ll have more important things to worry about, like having lost the top tier of her organization, and needing to replace them.” John’s phone started up again, and he turned his head that way. “Cade probably knows more about her than he’s letting on.”
“So maybe you should answer it and find out what he knows.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m too tired.” As if to prove he wasn’t just bullshitting me, he let out an enormous yawn. In true infectious style, it made me yawn too.
“We should eat something,” I said. “We’ve eaten nothing for…” I was already sliding under the covers, though, my eyelids feeling like lead weights and my brain refusing to cooperate for long enough to finish my sentence. If John offered a response, I wasn’t with it enough to register it. O’Reilly herself could stroll in here, and I doubted I’d care. Unless a nuclear bomb went off, everything else could wait.
Chapter Twenty-one
Bellamy
The building that housed the PPB was impressive, all sleek black modern lines, and windows that gleamed in the light. It had taken two days of Cade constantly ringing on the hour every hour before John had taken his call and agreed to see him. So here we were, John insisting on me accompanying him no matter what Cade might have to say about it. Not that it had taken much arm twisting when we’d been inseparable for the last two days, any time when we hadn’t been putting my house back to rights spent sleeping, eating, or having sex. No prizes for guessing which of those activities had been the most enjoyable. However, since we couldn’t stay in bed forever, there were certain things that we had to address, eventually.
John tipped his head back to stare up at the building, his gaze lingering on the top floor windows. “There’s a nice little coffee shop just down the road. It does lovely cream cheese bagels. We could go there instead?”
I smiled. “Nice try. But we’ll need to talk to him soon or later.”
John’s lip curled. On someone as fresh-faced as him, the attempt at derision just made him look like a grumpy teddy bear. A sexy teddy bear, but a teddy bear, nevertheless. “Need is a strong word.”
“I figured it fitted the situation better than want.”
He heaved out a sigh. “True.” More staring at the building, the moment stretching. “I guess we may as well get it over with.”
“We may as well.” Over the last couple of days, John had oscillated between the desire to tell Cade where to stick his job, and to return to it, with no definitive decision reached. My advice had been to wait and see, that he’d probably take one look at his boss and know what the right thing to do was. At least, I hoped that might be the case. “Come on.” Taking the initiative, I grabbed him by the hand and tugged him toward the flight of stone steps.
He took the lead once we reached the door, pulling the ID out of his pocket that we’d returned to John’s flat to get, and swiping it to gain admittance. The door opened into a very white, very swanky, and very empty reception area. “No receptionist?”
John shook his head. Visitors are not encouraged.
“What happens to them? Do you have them shot?”
John laughed. “Not quite. They just get to stand outside and look through the windows for all eternity. Unless they’ve got an appointment and then the ice prince comes down to get them.”
“The ice prince?” I queried as John strode toward the lifts, the ID getting its second use to get the lift moving as he selected a floor.
“Asher. Half man. Half robot. He masquerades as Cade’s personal assistant, but I’ve never really worked out what he is, really.”