Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Read online

  A decision was made before Brain found the time to decide. Entering the building, I passed the front desk stationed by a young female. The woman was bent over an iPad, so completely absorbed on the screen that I walked by without a glance from her being cast in my direction. Where I was going exactly… well, that most certainly was the question.

  Off to my left was a common room cluttered with chairs, sofas, a pool table, and a large, plasma screen television. A guy lounged on a couch in front of the TV, eyelids at half-mast as he stared unblinkingly at the flashing images.

  I approached. “Hey?”

  “Hey.” His gaze never refocused, and his expression never changed.

  “I heard a girl killed herself here a couple of days ago.”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s sad.”

  His shoulders gave a slight wiggle in a half-hearted shrug. “Didn’t know her.”

  “Where can I find someone who did?”

  “She lived up on three.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah.”

  The elevator was an easy find. Anna’s dorm room even simpler. It was the staging location for a showdown. Two women stood in front of a door, and neither appeared happy.

  “You are not allowed inside,” said a tall, brisk-sounding blond.

  “It is my room and my stuff.” The reply came from a petite Asian girl who, despite her tiny frame, appeared willing and able to take on the much larger woman.

  “You were told to grab what you needed.”

  “I took what I needed right then. No one said anything about it being days before I was allowed back inside.”

  “Once her parents have cleaned out her belongings, you can go back in.”

  “Not fair.”

  “Not my rules. Take it up with the Hall Director.” The blond turned and disappeared into a room several doors down the hallway.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, approaching the extremely frustrated woman—if frustrated was defined by the series of curse words being sharply muttered loud enough to reach my eardrums.

  Cautious eyes turned to me. “Who are you?”

  “Someone looking for information on Anna Dunne.” I glanced at the closed door. “I take it this is her room, and you’re her roommate?”

  “Are you a reporter?”

  “Nope, psychology student working on a paper about suicides.”

  “Well, good luck with that.” She may have thrown in an eye roll for good measure. It was hard to tell as she stomped off. “Can’t help you.”

  I reached down and touched the doorknob. “Hey, did you know this door latch was broken?”

  “What?”

  She halted and pivoted on a foot to face me. I gave the now broken door a little push open. My extra strength came in handy sometimes.

  A whirlwind of pissed-off female shoved past me and entered the room.

  “You’re not going to get in trouble—”

  “It’s my stuff.” She pulled open a dresser drawer and began tossing clothing into a bag. “They had no right to lock me out.”

  I stepped inside the cramped space, my gaze falling to the area Roomie wasn’t acknowledging. Anna’s side, no doubt. Anna’s belongings. A shelf above the desk was crammed full of books, and I inched forward to study the titles. “What was Anna like?”

  Roomie paused. “As for roommates, she was okay, I guess. I didn’t really know her. She kept to herself and didn’t mess with my stuff.”

  All right then. This girl was serious about her stuff. My gaze settled on one particular title on the bookshelf, and my breath caught. It was the same Celtic mythology book Anna had led me to in the overpriced rip-off of a bookstore. “So Anna’s mood or appearance didn’t change?”

  “Not that I noticed.” Roomie approached her desk and began dumping the contents into the now overflowing bag. “I think she had a date the other night, before she killed herself.”

  There was a silence, and I turned to find Roomie standing still, staring off into space.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I didn’t tell the cops about the date,” she finally said.

  “How come?”

  She sat down. “It was a suicide, right? I mean, I found her hanging…”

  My gaze tracked where her eyes were now staring. It must have been the location in the room where she’d found Anna.

  “So you didn’t mention the date since it was suicide, not murder?” I shoved the mythology book into my purse. Hadley would disapprove, but screw morals and ethics. I had a world to figure out how to save. Committing theft number two didn’t need to be dwelled on during a crisis like this. Walking over, I took a seat next to Roomie. “How well did you know the guy?”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “He wasn’t a boyfriend. I think it was a first date. Anna briefly mentioned it, and she hadn’t talked about him before. It’s just that…”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “Trust me, I won’t.”

  “I think I saw the guy she went out with.” Roomie stared down at the worn carpet. “I’d gotten off the elevator on our floor… I’d been out at a bar with some friends, so I was a little drunk. But this guy passed me in the hall and… and I got this sense he had come from my room. Don’t know why I felt that’s where he’d been… just did.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  Her head shook. “No, I remember looking at him and thinking if he was Anna’s date, he was kind of cute. But then… then I saw his eyes.”

  “What was wrong with his eyes?” I asked.

  “They were pitch black… like black holes. But as he watched me, they flashed red.”

  Chapter 5

  Demon-possessed human it was. Or a cambion, perhaps. The account of the potential killer’s solid black eyes was throwing me because the description reminded me of Psycho Praedator, but since she was the only cambion I knew, I hadn’t a clue if her unique features were a testament to her lineage or an anomaly.

  Not a Warlock this time, at least. Thank God. I’d had more than my fill of their preferred killing methods.

  The stolen goods from Anna’s dorm room remained crammed inside my purse, its hardness bulging the soft leather of my bag. A reminder to me of what I had snatched. Remorse didn’t fill me at the acknowledgment, unlike the guilt of the cash Damon had tucked inside his wallet.

  Anna had wanted me to have the book. Logic dictated that she wouldn’t have led me on a merry chase to the bookstore otherwise. The ghost was attempting some kind of non-verbal message, and I would be obliging enough to decipher it.

  Except for right then. Agenda for the day was already set: home and then work. Showing up to the place that direct deposited cash into Checking Account would have to commence if I wanted money. And yes, I wanted. Very much so. I’d simply have to pray like hell that whenever Damon deemed it time to grace me with his presence, my company would not be present.

  New clients had signed up to Fated Match in the last week—one being a rich friend of Natalie’s who was encouraged by the upcoming nuptials. Finding the friend’s Mr. Right in time to perform wedding date duties would make the friend happy, which would make Maude’s number one client happy. Then, of course, Maude would be happy. Win-win-win.

  My cell phone dinged a text message.

  Looking forward to Saturday’s meeting. Don’t waste my time.

  Ah, the pleasant morning wake-up text from Maude’s second favorite client, Desiree Hurst. International runway model. Beautiful. Filthy rich. A pain in my ass. The woman could be vying Natalie for Maude’s numero uno spot if only Desiree would settle down with a Maude-matched mate. But no, Desiree was officially off men thanks to Miss Prim, and now I was coerced into holding an anti-men meeting where I was the leading counselor discussing who knew what. The top ten reasons why men were the ultimate cause of women suffrage, no doubt.

  The day Maude discovered Desiree was plotting out a new civilization that didn’t inc
lude the male species, instead of picking out new home furnishings to color coordinate with the six-foot-four blond Maude had her eye on as Desiree’s perfect match, was the day I became unemployed. Hell, the reasons for why my booty was about to end up seeking government assistance for meager survival were racking up. None the least of which was the fact that I was now officially late to work.

  Home. It probably hadn’t been the smartest of ideas to swing by there prior to my stop at Fated Match, but the book needed to be tucked safely away from the prying eyes of ghosts and Warlocks. Both of which could be found at my job. Still, facts didn’t give a flip to my reasoning, and the facts were Maude had a ten o’clock appointment with a client, and it was now past nine.

  Hopping off the bus a couple of stops early, I figured Legs could get me to my destination faster via shortcuts.

  I figured wrong.

  A lavender leather jacket became my roadblock. It drew me in like a snare with the delicate sheen to its perfectly hued smoothness. No idea what in my wardrobe it could accompany, but while displayed in a storefront window, it screamed a single word: mine. One peek at the price tag was all I needed. Checking Account would then give me a swift kick in the booty, and I’d be on my way.

  Of course, that didn’t happen. Leaving the shop, that was. The expected holy-crap-this-is-expensive reaction occurred as expected from seeing the numbers displayed after the dollar sign. Then the turning back toward the shop door to exit the store transpired… and that was where all of my perfect planning took an unexpected sharp-right and landed in impromptu-land.

  Movement from the far corner of the room caught my eye, and I saw the back of a blond-headed man disappear into the connected electronics store. A man who suspiciously looked like Tristan. A vampire. One who had no business being inside a retail store at that very moment because of the thing lighting up the earth’s sky outside called the sun. Yet I’d previously seen that particular vamp sneaking his way around the city during the daylight hours, and considering he’d been spotted by my very own eyes having a back-alley meet-up with one particular evil Warlock, suspicions inside me arose.

  What to do when the opportunity was presented to check up on my dubious mentor? Follow, of course. I was damn well going to be in the know if there was any back-stabbing plotting taking place by one Tristan LeFevre.

  The store where I stood was part of a new retail strip that filled the entire block. Trendy and unique boutiques all interiorly connected to one another without the setup of a mall. So instead of exiting out onto the street, I darted through the connecting archway in the back of the clothing shop and entered a room full of electronics and gadgets. One employee was flipping through a magazine behind the cash register. Missing from sight was a two-faced blood-sucking demon.

  All right then. Mind was up to its tricks…

  Oh hell no, it wasn’t. A blur of blond moved swiftly through the shop I’d exited only moments before. That same tall head I searched for was next spotted inside the candle store on the other side by the time my feet reached its original starting location. Always one step ahead, damn it. And so it went… through a maze of books, clothing, expensive dog treats, and jewelry. Tristan’s identity confirmed with the speed and grace by which the man moved, smacking of vampire. No human shared that type of agility. What I wasn’t so certain about was who was following whom. Because that part… yeah, it kept getting fuzzy.

  “You seek me, ma chérie?”

  My back hit the wall as my chest was crowded with one, tall mouthwatering male. Muscular arms drew up on either side, caging me in. Mind took two seconds longer than it should have to rationalize thoughts.

  “Can’t a girl shop?” I asked.

  “You’re not shopping.” Taking a step back, Tristan glanced behind him before clasping my hand. “Come on.”

  “What? Wait…”

  It was no use. Tristan was leading, and I was being led. Protesting would have only drawn attention, but since curiosity was winning the internal debate I barely acknowledged having, Mouth remained quiet. We reached a door protected by a keypad at the back of a pottery shop.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed as Tristan reached up and typed in a few numbers. He didn’t answer as the door pulled opened. I only got a brief glance at the oblivious store clerk before being jerked into a dimly lit corridor. “Tristan…”

  He kept walking and tugging me along with him. I’d had enough. Jerking my arm free, I shoved the vamp up against the wall and got in his face. Turnabout was fair play. “You’ve got two seconds to tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  “I love it when you get feisty.”

  Elbowing him in the ribs produced a satisfying grunt. “No joking around. What do you want? I saw you speaking with Damon Reed a couple of weeks ago.”

  The grin on his lips tightened into a line of seriousness. “Here’s not the place, Kiara. Follow me, and I will explain.”

  Backing up, I nodded in agreement and let him pass. Another locked door was farther down the hall. Tristan knew the code to gain entrance to that one as well. When stepping through the threshold, it felt as if I’d entered a completely different building. In fact, I knew I had.

  “This is your apartment building.” I looked around at the interior architecture of the old building. High ceilings and thick wood.

  “Yes.” He extracted keys from the pocket of his jeans and paused in front his apartment door.

  “Let me guess, you own the retail section of the building beside this one?”

  “Very good, mademoiselle.”

  “Well, that certainly explains a lot,” I said, stepping into the dimness of his apartment. “Now, to business. Why were you following me?”

  A roguish grin re-formed on sexy lips. “Ah, but was it not you following me?”

  “I’m serious, Tristan.” Crossing my arms across my chest, I stared him in the eye. “Stop reverting to flirtation as a distraction like you always do. I want answers. Honest answers.”

  “I met with Damon to determine what he knew about you.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as you being the Fáithsine.”

  What the… “You know about that?”

  “Of course, I know, Kiara,” Tristan said. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “Since when?”

  “I suspected from the beginning.”

  It was too much for my jumbled thoughts to process as I attempted to recall every memory I’d had regarding Tristan. I sat down on the couch. Fell, really. Legs were too wobbly to support me upright. “How did you know?”

  Tristan sat down beside me. “I told you your blood was different.”

  Previously I’d suspected Tristan knew more about me than he’d let on, but never would I have suspected this. “And it was why you agreed to train me? What’s in this for you?”

  “Nothing.” He waited until my gaze caught his before continuing. “Nothing, Kiara. I am on your side, and I want to help.”

  Gut informed me he was sincere, and my instincts were usually dead on. “Okay, what did you learn from Damon?”

  “The Thirteen believes either you or a woman who lives over on Fifth Avenue is the prophecy.”

  The impact of his words weren’t lessened by the fact I’d already worried about the very thing. “Why would a powerful group of Warlocks speak to you?”

  “Because they do.” Tristan stood and paced. “You need protection.”

  “Seriously… what was with the chasing thing back in the shops?”

  “I had to be certain you weren’t being followed before I approached.”

  Shit just got real. “Damon wants to see me today. He’s figured out that I’m not so easily… persuaded.”

  “You can’t be compelled?” He stopped walking and stared. At me. “When are you to meet?”

  “He’ll most likely stop by Maude’s… Oh, shit! Work.”

  Whipping out my cell, I studied the clock on the screen. Ten after ten. And Maude hadn’t texted.
>
  A text message dinged. Speak of the devil… I swore the woman had me bugged based on the timing of her messages.

  Why is a new client sitting in my reception without a receptionist there to greet him?

  “I have to go to work,” I said, looking up from my phone.

  “Not without protection.”

  Stuffing the phone into my purse, I stood. “Who’s going to protect me? You? There’s sunlight going on out there in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “No.” Tristan pulled out his own cell. “I have resources in the police department.”

  I froze. “Please don’t tell me Detectives Ross and Wilcox.”

  “You know them?”

  “That would be a yes,” I said, and then plopped back down onto the cushions.

  Well, this ought to be fun.

  The minutes until my day of reckoning dragged. Worlds were about to collide. Then it came.

  Andrew walked into the apartment first. His face froze in stunned surprise upon seeing me perched on the edge of Tristan’s couch. It wasn’t often I was able to shock Mr. Laid-back. If the circumstances were any other, I’d pat myself on the shoulder for accomplishing that triumph-worthy feat. But the situation wasn’t. Wilcox, walking in on Andrew’s heels, made that abundantly clear.

  “Kiara? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too, Detective.” I gave my best charming smile to cajole him out of his brewing tiff.

  It didn’t work.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Ty.” Tristan extended his hand. Wilcox was too much a gentlemen to not shake before his glare swung back in my direction. Tristan didn’t appear to notice the disruption of air current at Wilcox’s attempt to stare out all of my dark secrets—which was rubbish for a man who held his own so damn tight. Nope, none of that phased Tristan as he said, “Kiara needs protection.”