Greywalker - Kat Richardson [109]
Close to that soft warmth, I relaxed, taking deep, easy breaths. Everything Grey seemed to flow like silk thread, shimmering with strands of energy, and I could feel every movement I made through it. I pushed on it and it bent, stiffening into a reflective curve around me. Even the chill was less now. I tried to push it away completely, but it would not recede below a constant bright softness lying over everything. Grids of energy gleamed on the threshold of light. Peeking sideways brought it all up to a bright blaze. I did not wish to step inside and see how the normal world looked from there.
But the constant presence was like acid on my nerves. I didn’t want to be near it or anything associated with it. I didn’t even want to talk to the Danzigers. Then I would have to think about it.
I shoved it back to the limits. I shivered and found myself crying into Chaos’s pelt. Shuddering, I carried her off, crawled back under the covers, and hid from the ugly world.
Monday morning Will met me at a café near the Madison Forrest House for breakfast. He greeted me with a more-than-friendly kiss and we sat at a table outside. I told myself the thin golden line around him was a trick of the cool spring sunshine.
I smiled at the delicious quivers he sent over me. “When do you have to go to work?” I asked.
“Closed on Mondays,” he replied, draping an arm over my shoulders, “and probably forever afterward, too, thanks to Brandon—who’s not returning phone calls and seems to be dodging some guys in dark suits, sunglasses, and grim looks.”
I raised my brows. “Who do you suppose they are?”
“I don’t know. Mikey spotted them hanging around. They didn’t bother to introduce themselves, and their cars had rental plates.”
“He noticed that? Sounds like Michael could be a detective, too.”
“I hope not. I’d rather admire your technique than watch Mike do it.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.“Want to show me your technique?”
I giggled. “Right here? Heck, no. What about Mike?”
“Let him get a girl his own age. I’m not sharing.”
“You know what I mean.”
“He’s fine. Thinks it’s funny. He’s in school today.”
“Does that mean you have nothing to do?”
He ran a finger along the curve of my ear and down my neck. “Mmm. I wouldn’t say nothing.”
I shivered. “Unfortunately, I have things to do that preclude dancing the horizontal tango with you all day—much as I might like to. Or had you forgotten this is supposed to be a professional meeting?”
“Spoilsport.”
I poked him with a finger and made a face. “The curator will meet us in a little over an hour, so take a look at this and give me your professional opinion.”
He glanced at the description sheet I offered him. “Without even looking at it, I expect that my professional opinion will be that it’s a piece of grot.”
“It does make me rather suspicious of the client’s motives.” I was suspicious of Sergeyev in general, but I wasn’t going to discuss that with Will. “I need to know as much about it as possible.”
“You think your client is up to something?”
“Something doesn’t smell right, if you know what I mean. He said there was no rush, but he’s thrown an awful lot of money at the project and he’s shown up once, although he said he was in Europe the first time we talked. His check was drawn on a Swiss bank, but the rest of the packet came from London.”
“I’m surprised it wasn’t an Irish bank,” Will commented. “The Swiss aren’t as reticent about giving out information as they used to be, and the Irish make them look like pikers.”
“Irish offshore banks? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It was on the horizon the last time I was in England,” he explained. “They’ve tried a lot of things to bring international business to Ireland. Most didn’t pan out, but you don’t need any special resources to be a banking power, especially if you’re willing to buck the bully tactics of the US and the EU and maintain absolute discretion about your customers.”
“Really? You’re a guy of unknown depths, Mr. Novak.”
“Yep. A diamond of the first water. Better grab me while you can.”
I laughed.