Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [62]
I snagged a jacket from a table, and yanked it on to cover my bloodied wrists. Then I stole a purse someone left on a chair while she went to grab napkins.
I’d feel bad about the purse. Later. For now, it contained cash and it had a cell phone. I took both and left the purse in a bathroom stall. Then I called a cab.
My plan was to call Paige on the cell. But as I got into the cab, I realized the obvious: Freedom had come altogether too easily.
They’d let me escape.
Or had they?
I wasn’t sure, but if they had let me escape, the reason would be obvious. They wanted me to lead them to the others.
I couldn’t call Paige or Lucas. Probably shouldn’t call anyone who might be even peripherally on their captive list. Or their hit list. But I did need to warn Elena and Hope.
I dialed a number.
“Prevail Aluminum Siding,” a voice chirped. “How may I direct your call?”
“Is Mr. Prevail in today?” I asked. “He’s doing a quote for my condo, and I gave him the wrong measurements.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Tell him it’s the nasty girl.”
“I’ll put you right through.”
Code words are cool. I keep telling Paige we really need to use them at the agency. She fails to see the value. Or the sheer awesomeness factor.
I was calling Rhys Vaughan—Hope’s boss. One of them, that is. She has her job at the tabloid, and she occasionally helps out with the council, but in the last couple of years, she’s shifted her extracurricular focus from the council to Rhys’s organization. As a chaos demon, she needs more of the dark stuff than the council can provide.
Rhys is a mercenary. He doesn’t like the word. I don’t see why. For me, it’s right up there with secret codes. I think his problem is that the term conjures up images of hardened killers who will do anything for a price. Rhys’s supernaturals are guns—and spies—for hire, but only for the right cause. You can hire him to assassinate a Cabal goon on your tail; you can’t hire him to assassinate your boss to free up the position.
Rhys was a clairvoyant. Just like that baby the group had its sights on . . . a baby who just happened to be his grandchild. His disabled teenage son impregnated another clairvoyant, who died before giving birth. He got custody of his son. The Nasts got the dead woman.
For years, rumors had been floating around that the Nasts had kept the woman—Adele Morrissey—on life support until she had her child. I’d asked Sean about it once. He’d given me an answer that I’d taken to mean the rumor wasn’t true, but thinking back, he hadn’t actually said that. As honest as we tried to be with each other, there were Cabal secrets I couldn’t expect him to share.
It took a while for me to be connected to Rhys. Long enough for the cab ride to end. I was walking along a downtown street, looking for anyone following, when Rhys finally came on the line.
“Hello?” His tone was cautious.
“Hey, it’s me.”
A pause.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Savannah?”
“Actually, I’m kind of pressed for time here—”
“What was the name of the first pet you had as a child?”
“Um, never had a pet. What’s with the security quest—?” I stopped. “Hope called when I went missing, so you could put out feelers. And now someone’s calling from a strange number claiming to be me. It is me, Rhys. I escaped, and I have a feeling I got away too easily, which is why I’m using this stolen cell phone to call you instead of Paige and Lucas. My mother’s maiden name is Levine. My first school was Hill’s Park. My—”
“Okay, okay. And for the record, those are lousy security questions because they’re based on publicly accessible information. Now, look around, as if you’re trying to find a street name, and make a note of every person you see.”
“Already did that. The most likely suspect is a guy in his twenties reading lamppost flyers advertising band gigs from last summer.”
“Okay, stop looking at him. Are there restaurants or coffee shops nearby?”
“Yep. I’m in downtown Kingston. Small city in Indiana, though I’ve never