A dark-haired man popped his head out from the kitchen. He set the open box of cereal on the table behind him and offered her a smile.
“Your housekeeping skills leave much to be desired, Miss Creed,” he commented. Stepping carefully over a toppled pile of research books, he waved dismissively at the sword. “You won’t need that. I come in peace.”
“I’ve heard that line before.”
A fashionable five-o’clock shadow stubbled his jaw. His dark complexion was probably a tan. Gold and diamonds flickered at his cuffs and fingers. He wasn’t ugly or villainous. Rather attractive, moreso than his pictures online. She could sense he wielded charm as a means to get what he wanted.
“Why has my home become the revolving meeting place for Thugs of America?” she asked.
“Oh, that’s rich. You been having trouble with security? There are protection systems you can get for that. And really, I must protest. I’m not a thug. Serge showed me here.”
“The guy is giving tours of my home? I gotta get a new profession.”
“I’m Benjamin Ravenscroft.”
“I know,” she said.
Serge had lured the most elusive member of her gang of skull chasers right to her. Ravenscroft didn’t appear too threatening. The business suit he wore must have set him back a few Gs. And she’d bet that was a manicure. He smelled…expensive, and looked as though he’d just stepped off the cover of a business magazine.
But Annja wouldn’t let down her guard.
“We need to talk,” Ben said.
“Let me guess. You and Serge are working together?”
“In essence.”
“Didn’t sound like he was on your side when I last spoke to him.”
“We work together on various levels. We’ve recently joined forces on a pressing matter. Do sit down. And please set the sword aside. Nice. Don’t often see women wielding swords in New York unless it’s in the theater district. Hey, I caught your show the other night. It was the Transylvania one. I sure as hell hope they pay you for those nonsense forays.”
“I don’t like the feeling I’m getting about you.”
“Huh. I like you,” he offered with a shrug. “You fascinate me, Miss Creed.”
“Can we cut the small talk? What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
What everyone else wanted.
“Haven’t got it,” she said.
“But you know who has it. I spoke to him earlier. A friend named Braden has been in touch with me.”
That information didn’t surprise Annja as much as she thought it should. It was further proof Garin was in this one for the money. And obviously tracking the highest bidder. So he had the skull, after all.
Ridding the world of it? Yeah, right.
“Whatever he says he has,” Annja said, “he doesn’t.”
“For some reason I believe you. This disappoints, then. I had thought the man was at least telling the truth about his associate having the skull. That associate, I assumed, being you.”
She was Garin’s associate now? Man, did she need to put that guy’s head straight.
“Why do you want the skull?” Annja asked.
Ben spread his arms and stated plainly, “It has the power of God, yes?”
“I haven’t heard it termed in quite that manner, but I suppose one could go there. I’ve come to learn most villains won’t waste their time for anything less than godlike power.”
“Villain? Annja, you hardly know me, and yet you label me so viciously.”
“Yeah, well, if the shoe fits.” She glanced to his leather loafers. She couldn’t even make a guess how much they’d cost.
“Such power could come in handy,” Ben casually tossed out. “Haven’t you ever wondered what you would want if granted all good things?”
“Nope. Not going there, either. Seems like your life is going well enough to judge from the magazine articles touting your riches and philanthropy. As well, you employ a necromancer to see you get anything you desire. So I don’t get it. Why do you want more power?”
“You have family, Annja?”
Sighing heavily, Annja maintained her grip on the sword, but fought against rolling her eyes. And why was that? Why did the family question prick at her like that? She had a great family—of friends.
“No,” she said.
“Some don’t.” Ben shrugged. “It’s the way of the world. But it also leads me to believe you’d never understand my motives. I’m not going to get into the greater meaning behind my quest with you. It’s not worth the effort, especially when I’m not particularly pleased staring at your weapon.”
“Girl’s gotta protect herself.”
“I’ll grant you that. Perhaps I need to stick around while you wait to meet with Maxfield Wisdom?”
The man knew far too much. And Annja was tired of having her private property trespassed on. She swung the sword. Drawing the blade tip along the buttons punctuating Ben’s suit coat, she tapped him roughly under the chin with the flat side of the steel.
“Get out of my home, Ravenscroft.”
“You’re not going to kill me.”
“No, but I am in the mood to poke someone. Do you have any idea how many times my home has been broken into lately?”
“I am only aware of myself and Serge visiting.”
“Visiting? Leave, or I’m calling the cops. I’ve a direct line to a detective who can be here in minutes. Are you willing to have me introduce the two of you?”
“No need to involve the police.” He stepped backward toward the door, arms raised and hands splayed. His attitude changed from arrogant nonchalance to guarded. “I don’t need to be here to keep tabs on you. And I’m guessing my resources for obtaining the prize are greater than yours.” He nodded. “Good day, Miss Creed. Despite the rude treatment, it was a genuine pleasure to meet a celebrity of your stature.”
He left swiftly. Annja clasped the sword with both hands and whisked it through the air.
“You might have the resources, Ravenscroft, but you don’t have the skull.”
For that matter, who did have it?
33
A few more swishes of blade served to slice the steam from her tension. It had been weeks since Annja had practiced the swordplay exercises Roux had taught her. Confidence arrived when the hilt fit into her grip. She knew how to lunge, thrust, riposte, dodge and down-and-dirty go-for-the-arteries with it. Practice kept her muscles toned, as well, her mind strong.
Deciding an impromptu practice session was just the thing, Annja lunged at the curtains and almost severed them when the doorbell rang.
“Bad guy back so soon?” It had been ten minutes since he’d left. “Must have forgotten the departing wicked laughter and evil rubbing of his fists.”
Sword in hand, she answered the door to someone she wasn’t sure she was happy to see. “Haven’t seen you in a while, stranger.”
“And you greet me in such a manner?”
Roux waited for her to step back before entering. He smiled at her ready position, which was so strange Annja finally realized she stood, elbow up and blade angled in preparation to behead the man.
She thrust out her right arm, opening her fingers with dramatic flare. The sword vanished.
“That never ceases to amaze me,” Roux said.
Same with her. That’s why she did it.
“Garin said the two of you had a grand reunion.”
“Always a pleasure to spend time with the man.”
“Liar.”
“Yes, well.” He turned his head to reveal a dash of red through his brilliant white hair.
“Is that blood?” Forgetting her need to remain distant, Annja touched the wound just above his ear.
“From a bullet.”
“Garin tried to kill you?”