some degree of comfort, Tiago shifted into high gear. He yanked out his cell phone and punched in a call.
Rune picked up on the first ring. “What do you need?”
“We got a shitload of trouble postmarked for our address,” Tiago told him. “If it hasn’t hit the fan yet, it will soon.”
“You guys safe?”
“Yeah.” He told the other sentinel their room number. “We’re good.”
“How’s our favorite princess?”
“She’s okay,” Tiago told him. “She’s stressed out, of course, and exhausted. The wound was infected, so the doc had to give her a cleansing spell. She just fell asleep.”
“So about this shitload of trouble.”
“There was another attack.”
“You happened to mention that precious fact when you threatened to shoot a gaggle of reporters, camera crews and paparazzi outside the Regent. I’m here to tell you, son, you are one motherfucking public relations nightmare.” Rune did not sound concerned. He cracked gum. “You look cute on TV though.”
Tiago paced the living room. “Would you trust your life to anyone in Chicago? Really. Trust.”
A short pause grew invisible talons and fangs. “Spill it,” said Rune. The other sentinel’s former amiability had vaporized into the flat, cold tones of the Wyr warrior that had fought his way to become Cuelebre’s First.
“There was a triad involved in the attack,” said Tiago. “They were dressed to look like they were Dark Fae, but they weren’t. Rune, they were Wyr.”
N iniane stayed in a deep, dreamless sleep until bodily needs forced her awake. She struggled to get out of bed and knocked a bottle of water off the bedside table. Suddenly Tiago was there. He carried her into the bathroom, and this time he insisted on staying. She felt so weak and leaden she didn’t have the energy to argue with him or to be embarrassed. Instead, she leaned against him, eyes closed, as he helped to pull her underwear down and ease her onto the toilet. When she had finished and they had washed their hands, he scooped her up again and carried her back to bed.
“I want this damn thing off,” she mumbled as he tucked the covers around her.
“What damn thing?” he asked. He smoothed the hair off her forehead.
She twitched the hand with the IV. “If I have to pee, I’m not dehydrated enough to need this anymore.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll talk to the doctor.”
A few minutes later the doctor came into the bedroom. He eased the IV needle out of her skin and covered the puncture with a small section of cotton pad folded under a Band-Aid. She muttered thanks, curled up on her unwounded side and fell back asleep.
The rest of the day flew by for Tiago. He was on the phone more often than not. Fifteen minutes after he had dropped his bombshell, Rune called back. It was too late to send a cleanup crew to the scene of the second attack. The police had already been called, and the crime scene was being processed. Rune and Aryal were headed to Chicago to investigate the Wyr involvement in the assassination attempt.
In the meantime Tiago triangulated with the gargoyle sentinel Grym, who was head of security back in New York, and the Chicago police commissioner, until they came up with a list of senior level police officers they could all agree upon for a task force specifically set up for Niniane’s protection.
Once the list was solidified, Tiago began to work with the leader of the CPD task force. Lieutenant Cameron Rogers, a twenty-year veteran of the Chicago police, arrived at the Regent within the hour. She was a tall, sandy-haired, freckled woman in her early forties with the strong, bright energy of a self-confident athlete, and she combined sturdy efficiency with a sense of humor. Once the hotel floor was locked down with more than just two undercover cops posing as hotel guards, Tiago turned his attention to other things.
Tiago refused to leave Niniane’s bedroom door unguarded. After Tucker delivered his duffle bag and
Rune picked up on the first ring. “What do you need?”
“We got a shitload of trouble postmarked for our address,” Tiago told him. “If it hasn’t hit the fan yet, it will soon.”
“You guys safe?”
“Yeah.” He told the other sentinel their room number. “We’re good.”
“How’s our favorite princess?”
“She’s okay,” Tiago told him. “She’s stressed out, of course, and exhausted. The wound was infected, so the doc had to give her a cleansing spell. She just fell asleep.”
“So about this shitload of trouble.”
“There was another attack.”
“You happened to mention that precious fact when you threatened to shoot a gaggle of reporters, camera crews and paparazzi outside the Regent. I’m here to tell you, son, you are one motherfucking public relations nightmare.” Rune did not sound concerned. He cracked gum. “You look cute on TV though.”
Tiago paced the living room. “Would you trust your life to anyone in Chicago? Really. Trust.”
A short pause grew invisible talons and fangs. “Spill it,” said Rune. The other sentinel’s former amiability had vaporized into the flat, cold tones of the Wyr warrior that had fought his way to become Cuelebre’s First.
“There was a triad involved in the attack,” said Tiago. “They were dressed to look like they were Dark Fae, but they weren’t. Rune, they were Wyr.”
N iniane stayed in a deep, dreamless sleep until bodily needs forced her awake. She struggled to get out of bed and knocked a bottle of water off the bedside table. Suddenly Tiago was there. He carried her into the bathroom, and this time he insisted on staying. She felt so weak and leaden she didn’t have the energy to argue with him or to be embarrassed. Instead, she leaned against him, eyes closed, as he helped to pull her underwear down and ease her onto the toilet. When she had finished and they had washed their hands, he scooped her up again and carried her back to bed.
“I want this damn thing off,” she mumbled as he tucked the covers around her.
“What damn thing?” he asked. He smoothed the hair off her forehead.
She twitched the hand with the IV. “If I have to pee, I’m not dehydrated enough to need this anymore.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll talk to the doctor.”
A few minutes later the doctor came into the bedroom. He eased the IV needle out of her skin and covered the puncture with a small section of cotton pad folded under a Band-Aid. She muttered thanks, curled up on her unwounded side and fell back asleep.
The rest of the day flew by for Tiago. He was on the phone more often than not. Fifteen minutes after he had dropped his bombshell, Rune called back. It was too late to send a cleanup crew to the scene of the second attack. The police had already been called, and the crime scene was being processed. Rune and Aryal were headed to Chicago to investigate the Wyr involvement in the assassination attempt.
In the meantime Tiago triangulated with the gargoyle sentinel Grym, who was head of security back in New York, and the Chicago police commissioner, until they came up with a list of senior level police officers they could all agree upon for a task force specifically set up for Niniane’s protection.
Once the list was solidified, Tiago began to work with the leader of the CPD task force. Lieutenant Cameron Rogers, a twenty-year veteran of the Chicago police, arrived at the Regent within the hour. She was a tall, sandy-haired, freckled woman in her early forties with the strong, bright energy of a self-confident athlete, and she combined sturdy efficiency with a sense of humor. Once the hotel floor was locked down with more than just two undercover cops posing as hotel guards, Tiago turned his attention to other things.
Tiago refused to leave Niniane’s bedroom door unguarded. After Tucker delivered his duffle bag and
Similar Books
