Lee Child - MatchUp

The vampire cleared his throat. “I’d rather we go somewhere a bit more discreet, Lilliane. Someplace secure.”

“We won’t find anywhere more discreet or secure in all the city,” she assured him. “Or all the world, probably.”

She’d been coming to this place when the pair of men assaulted her. And while the shop’s enigmatic proprietor, Bastian Drake, wasn’t likely to welcome this late-night intrusion, the fact that the store’s light was still burning in the window, the fact that the shop itself hadn’t disappeared from sight altogether by way of his powerful magic, was signal enough that she and her unwanted new acquaintance could take shelter inside for a while.

She opened the door and led Lucan Thorne inside. Shrugging out of her soaked raincoat, she indicated an empty wooden chair and watched as the vampire dumped the human onto the seat.

“Are we alone here?” he asked.

“Alone enough.”

She noticed how his shrewd gaze surveyed the cramped space with its rug-covered, old wood floors and the dozens of thick candles on display in unusual burnt-umber glass containers. “I know the owner of this shop. We won’t be disturbed.”

“Considering how the rest of this evening’s gone already, you’d better be damned sure of that.”

She laid down her briefcase. “Suffice to say, the proprietor isn’t exactly what you’d call a people person.”

The remark earned a cryptic smirk from the massive Breed male.

“Strange place,” he said, strolling over to a collection of candles shelved on the far wall. He brought one to his nose and sniffed shallowly. Then he jerked his head away, as if his preternatural senses told him he wasn’t merely smelling poured wax and some added fragrance, but something else.

Something primal, raw. Otherworldly.

“Smells terrible, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“That and then some.” He returned the candle to its shelf. “The presentation had me fooled.”

“That’s because it’s not for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“The candle. It’s not meant for you. So to your nose it probably smells like pond water or something worse.”

“And the one it’s meant for? What will it smell like to them?”

Her eyes glazed over but held their natural color. “Ever been in love?”

“I am now.”

“Ah, you’re sweet.”

“I’m not talking about you.”

“And I wasn’t remotely serious, so sheathe those fangs, big boy. Is the love of your life a he or a she?”

“She.”

“She’s got a smell, right? A special smell. Not just the smell of her skin, but the way her skin smells when she’s flushed and ready for you, beckoning to you. It’s a smell that makes you feel like you’re in her arms no matter where you are when you smell it.”

“I suppose so.”

“If that candle was meant for you, that’s what it would smell like to you. Only none of these candles are meant for you, because you’re already with the love of your life. Or at least it sounds like it. But if you weren’t, and the love of your life was in your life, but you weren’t man enough to step up and try to make a move, or you had a hundred excuses why it wasn’t going to work and you shouldn’t even try, eventually, you might find yourself here, smelling her smell in one of those candles.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Or are you just humoring me? I’m not really sure how to handle skepticism from a vampire, so you’ll have to bear with me for a second.”

“I’ve got a question. If there isn’t a candle for me here, why’d this place appear to me at all?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe the guy who runs it wanted me to help you. Maybe that’s why I wound up in this courtyard right as you were attacked.”

His words gave a tense set to her jaw. “Let’s stop speculating and get back to the business at hand.”

“Fine. You going to tell me what’s in that fancy case of yours, or am I going to have to open it and see for myself?”

She saw no reason to lie. After all, as he’d pointed out, they shared a common problem tonight. Namely, both of them being revealed to the world as something other than human. She lifted the glossy leather briefcase and flipped the jeweled locks open. Holding the open case in her arms, she presented the contents to him.

He strode over to look at the half-dozen glowing jars, nestled safe in their cushioned sleeves inside the case. Their illumination seemed to startle the large warrior. He drew back, as wary as any solar-allergic being should be.

“Is that light captured inside them?”

“In a manner of speaking.” She glanced at the soft hues that burned like colored embers in the jars. “They hold the pure essence of true desire. That’s a force even more powerful than light. More powerful than most anything in this world, or the next.”

He swiveled his head and took in the scores of candles that surrounded them. “And your friend who runs this shop. How does he fit into the equation?”

“He’s not my friend.” Her jaw stiffened. “As for what he does, that’s a long story. And one best saved for another time.”

The unconscious man slouched in the chair across the room was beginning to rouse.

“I’ll just say this. I’ve got a little business I run that supplies him with what he needs to run his place. All my customers walk away happy. Most of his do too.”

“Most, huh?”

“Like I said, long story.”

Lucan cursed under his breath. “Long story or not, before this is all over tonight, you will tell me.”

She inclined her head, observing as he stalked toward the unconscious human and hoisted the man upright in the wooden chair. The man’s head lolled before finally facing Lucan. As soon as his bleary eyes opened, the human sucked in air and practically leapt off his seat in terror.

“Oh, God, no. I thought it was a nightmare.”

“That’s all it is,” Lucan said, placing his palm against the man’s sweaty brow. “A bad dream. Relax now.”

The human complied immediately.

His trembling ceased, along with his panicked stammering.

“What are you doing?” she asked, setting her briefcase down to draw up beside the vampire.

“I tranced him. He’ll tell us everything we ask.” Lucan turned his attention back on the calmed human. “You can start with your name.”

“Danny Boudreaux.”

Lucan glanced her way and she shrugged, signaling that the name meant nothing to her.

“What about your friend in the van, Danny? What’s his name?”

“I dunno. My friend Ricky—he knows him, not me.”

“Ricky is the other guy you were with tonight?”

Danny nodded.

“And what did Ricky tell you about the man with the camera?”

“He said the dude was offerin’ us fifty bucks to come with him and jump this lady he’s been watchin’ for a couple of months. Said he wanted to see what would happen if we got her good and pissed off.”

“You succeeded,” she muttered.

“There was supposed to be an extra hundred in it for us if we could grab the bitch’s briefcase away from her.”

“A lousy hundred dollars,” she said. “You don’t have the first idea what’s in these jars or what to do with it. And you’d spend the rest of your miserable life trying to figure it out.”

Lucan slanted her a look. “I don’t think it mattered to anyone what was inside it. The man with the camera knew the briefcase was important to you. He only wanted to test your reaction to the theft. He’s been watching you long enough to know your habits, where to find you.”

“What for? Just to make a feeble attempt to mug me?”

His face turned grim. “So he could capture the altercation on video. More specifically, your reaction.”