Janet Evanovich: Wicked Appetite

I was on a couch in a living room, I thought. I swung my legs over the side and sat. Furniture was all clean lines, ivory and cocoa. Expensive art on the walls. The black glass was a window. The street was at least twenty floors below. I moved my eyes left, and spotted him. He was motionless in a chair across the room, his dark eyes fixed on me. His face was almost as pale as the ivory chair. His glossy black hair was loose, swept back, falling to his shoulders in waves.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice soft. “Steven acted without my direction. Although, it has turned out well, because here you are… unprotected by my annoying cousin.”

“Where are we?”

“You’re in my home.”

“It doesn’t look like the brownstone.”

“This is a new address,” Wulf said. “A necessary inconvenience.”

I looked around the room. “Does Hatchet live here, too?”

“No.”

“How did Hatchet get me here?”

“Stun gun and then a mild anesthesia. He was a paramedic in the military.”

“He’s insane.”

“Yes, but sometimes in an amusing way. His obsessive brain is currently mired in the Middle Ages, but he’s actually quite brilliant. He’s an authority on paralytic toxins and Inquisition torture techniques. And as you know, he’s one of only two people living who can identify an empowered object.”

I walked to the window and looked out. We were in Boston. The sun was rising, tinting the black sky red at the horizon. A few car lights slid along the streets. I could see the Common below me. Behind me, the far end of the room opened to a marble-floored foyer and elevator. Wulf was occupying a penthouse. If Diesel were living here, there would be shoes left lying around and a sweatshirt draped over a chair back. Wulf’s home was pristine.

“Is there a Mrs. Wulf?” I asked him.

“No. I live alone.”

He crossed the room to stand behind me. When he moved, there were no sounds of footsteps, just the barest rustle of cloth. He made no attempt to touch me, but I could feel his energy field edging against mine.

I stepped away from him into a more benign space. “I’m supposed to be at work.”

“You have something I want. After you give it to me, you can leave and go to your work.”

“What do you want?”

“Information.”

“That’s it?”

“Eventually, I’ll require more from you,” Wulf said. “When I possess all of the SALIGIA, I’ll need to take your gift away. Unless, of course, my much too normal cousin loses control and risks his power before I have the pleasure of your company.”

“Aren’t you afraid of the risk?”

“If I have the SALIGIA, there will be no risk.”

“You’re assuming I would cooperate in this.”

“I’ll have no trouble persuading you to cooperate.”

That was a chilling thought.

“How many charms do you have?” he asked me.

“ I don’t have any. Diesel has one from Shirley More. And you have the charm from Mark More.”

“And Lenny’s charm?”

“Lenny’s charm got exploded.”

“Yes, but not destroyed,” Wulf said. “The empowered object can shift forms, but it can’t be destroyed.”

“It doesn’t seem to me that Lenny’s charm matters. We’re at a deadlock. The hunt for the SALIGIA is done. You and Diesel each possess a charm, so the charms will never be combined.”

Wulf’s eyes dilated totally black. “One way or another, the charms will be combined, and the first of the SALIGIA Stones will be found.”

Yipes. For a nano-second I thought I saw tiny flames flicker deep in Wulf’s eyes. Probably, it was a reflection from the candles on the sideboard. The other explanation was that he was the devil. Either way, he was wigging me out with the SALIGIA stuff.

“Four members of the More family were given identical boxes when the estate was settled,” Wulf said. “Sadly, the estate executor died shortly after the will was read and property was distributed. So I can’t encourage him to share his information. There’s no record of the four recipients, but we’ve managed to find three of them. I don’t suppose you know who the fourth is?”

“I thought there were only three.”

“Three were at the reading of the will. The fourth didn’t attend and was privately given the box. Neither Mark nor Lenny knows the identity of the fourth More. And you’ve effectively silenced Shirley.”

“Why are you sharing this with me?”

“There are far too many Mores in the Salem area, and searching for the correct one will be tedious. I’m going to let you find the last More for me.”

“I’m working with Diesel.”

“In the end, it will come down to a deal and a roll of the dice. It doesn’t matter who finds the last charm. Possession of the Stone is all that matters.”

“Why do you want the Stone?”

Wulf thought about it for a moment, his eyes still intense and fixed on me, his energy prickling against my skin. “I suppose I enjoy the hunt,” he said. “And the power of the SALIGIA fascinates me.”

“Diesel will turn the SALIGIA over to the BUM for safekeeping, so it won’t be used for evil purposes.”

“Admirable,” Wulf said. “And predictably boring.”

“Would you use it for evil purposes?” I asked him.

“Evil is relative.”

“That’s a convenient attitude taken by people who do bad things.”

Wulf smiled at that, but the smile was small and didn’t extend beyond his mouth. “Perhaps.” He picked a slim cell phone up from an end table and tapped a number in. “I’m done with her… for now,” he said into the phone. “She’ll be on a park bench on Boylston, in front of the swan boats.” He disconnected and turned his attention back to me. “Face the window and close your eyes,” he said, moving behind me, placing his hand on the back of my neck.

His grip was firm, and his hand was warm. A wave of panic slid through my stomach, and my heart tap-danced in my chest. “Who did you call?” I asked.

“I called your ride.”

And then an electric charge buzzed down my spine and hummed in my head. My legs gave way, my vision blurred, and the last thing I remember was Wulf wrapping his arms around me.

I shook my head in a reflex action to clear the confusion. I was sitting on a bench at the edge of the park, and Diesel was squatting in front of me, holding my hands. The line of his mouth was tight with anger, his eyes showed concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” The truth is, I felt okay, but Diesel looked worried and a little shaken, and his anxiety was infectious.

“Do you know your name?”

“Lizzy.”

“Do you know how you got here?”

“No.”

“You were with Wulf,” Diesel said.

“Oh yeah. Now I remember.” I looked down at my hands. “Am I burned? Do I have blisters anywhere?”

“The parts of you I can see look okay. I’d rather wait and examine the rest of you at home so I can take my time. Right now, we need to get moving. I’m illegally parked.”

“You’re supposed to be a powerful Unmentionable. Can’t you cloak your car in an invisibility shield? Can’t you make the sign disappear from the handicap parking space?”

Diesel tugged me down the path to the sidewalk. “No, but I can make you wish you were nicer to me.”

I looked up and down Boylston Street, but I didn’t see Diesel’s SUV. “Where’s your car?”

“I swapped it out. I was getting a migraine from the monkey smell.”

The only car illegally parked was a black Porsche turbo. “You swapped it out for a turbo?”

Diesel opened the passenger-side door for me. “Gwen takes whatever is available and fits me.” He angled himself behind the wheel and pulled into traffic.