Rob Thurman - Trick of the Light

I waited while one of Eden House’s version of MIBs, Men in Bulgaria sunglasses, paid for our admission. I wasn’t paying for my own kidnapping. Mr. Trinity wouldn’t dirty his godly hands with filthy sinful money—never mind he was rolling in it, and Griffin was distracted. He didn’t like being away from his partner’s side and it showed. He didn’t trust Trinity completely anymore if he trusted him at all, but that didn’t show, not to anyone but me. If the other five were empaths or psychics, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t show to them either. Griffin was better than they were. He and Zeke were the prizes of this particular House. They had no equals there.

Leo was back at the bar feeding scrawny girls and their pudgy dogs. She gave most of her food to her dog. She deserved the help, just as Zeke and Griffin had years ago. “She left with a garbage bag full of food,” he’d said placidly when I’d called him on the phone before we left Eden House for the aquarium. “If she does come back to help clean, we may have to roll her through the mouth of the alley.”

“You never know,” I’d said sweetly. “Angels disguise themselves to test the generosity of us sinful mortals. You may have earned a spot in Heaven.” With a snort and no comment, he had hung up on me.

“Miss Leo?” Griffin said in a low tone at my ear, picking up on the emotion that I hadn’t bothered to try to conceal. Griffin was missing his own partner as well, I knew.

“Maybe some. He’s certainly going to be sorry he missed this.” I sighed.

The eight of us moved through a mass of tourists—some pudgy, some thin, and all seemingly dressed from a 1992 JC Penney catalogue. They’d obviously broken out their best for Vegas. Plastic clothes for a plastic town. We went through the underwater ship and then through the tunnel where fish and sharks swam over our heads. One swam especially close, bumped his bullet nose against the glass above us, and rolled—the traditional shark move for taking his prey down. “I think we made a friend.” I waved at it and mentally cursed the Light for at least the fifth time.

After we exited the tunnel, I stood for a second, my head cocked to one side . . . listening, but not really. More like feeling a tickle in my brain leading me along. “This way.”

“This way” turned out to be a door marked NO ENTRY. Griffin kicked it in, using as little force as he could so the splintering of the jamb wouldn’t be spotted from the outside hall. Inside the room was a walkway over the shark tank. Netting rose from the rail to well above six feet. Didn’t want the employees accidentally tumbling in and ruining ticket sales with their blood and snack-able entrails.

“All right.” I leaned against the netting to watch the sea life, and then sucked in my breath, stripped off my shirt and jeans down to panties and bra, and said, “Someone give me a knife or cut me a door.”

Griffin’s mouth fell open. For such a bright, intelligent, and serious guy, it wasn’t such a good look for him. “You. . . . down there? I thought it’d be one of the trainers or guides. You mean the Light planted a clue in some sea bass’s tiny little brain?” He moved forward, stepping on my clothes without awareness. “And, please God, tell me it’s a sea bass.”

“Did I ever tell you my brother liked sharks? And not so much planted a clue as left a trail.” One of the MIB was slicing an opening through the mesh and Mr. Trinity didn’t seem concerned in the slightest if I lost a body part or two. Big surprise. “He thought they were the beauties of the ocean. Not dolphins or orcas, he just had a thing about sharks. He even swam with them.”

“Your brother swam with sharks.” Griffin followed my gaze downward. “He wasn’t any smarter than you, then, was he?”

I smiled, kissed his cheek, and was through the netting and diving into the water below before he could grab my arm. Not that he didn’t try. A very good friend, Griffin.

The water was cooler than I expected. Not cold, but not warm either, but the salt in it burned my raw back like battery acid. I ignored it as best I could and began swimming down. I didn’t have to go too far. With eyes wide open I saw electric blue and yellow fish come to nibble at my knees and toes curiously. I saw the wavering faces of tourists who were getting a far better show than they paid for and then I saw it, the same seven-foot-long shark that had bumped and grinned at me—you haven’t seen a true grin until you’ve seen a shark grin.

Seven feet isn’t really all that big for a shark. They’ve seen them twelve feet long, but right now seven feet was fine by me. Nothing bigger required. It was one of the few cases when smaller was better.

It swam up to me slowly, black eyes round and familiar. It looped around me until I felt the sandpaper scrape of its skin against mine. I reminded myself it had something to give me, to pass on. That’s why I hadn’t brought a knife borrowed from one of the MIB. That’s why I didn’t open my mouth for a gur gly “Oh shit,” not that drowning while being eaten is much better than simply being eaten. I had faith in the Light, which was odd, as I had so little faith in so many other things. I also had faith in the elemental soul of the shark. Kimano had, and for all his lazy ways, he’d been a good judge of character. Sharks weren’t the villains movies painted them. In all likelihood they weren’t half as savage as your average teacup poodle.

I rested a hand on the blunt head and thought of my brother and then of the Light.

It was there, only the tiniest bit—the barest molecule. But even that lit me up. Filled me from the inside out with safety and home and unending warmth.

Neither Above nor Below deserved the Light.

But hadn’t I known that all along? Yet business was business, and few knew backroom negotiations like I did. I knew how to get what I wanted— everything I wanted. My house of cards wasn’t going to tumble down now. There was no way that I would let that happen.

After the warmth and the light came two faces. The first was Jeb—alive, whole, the torture and death a thing of his future. I saw him through shark eyes as he stared back, cradling a large paper bag in the crook of his arm. From the paper bag came a glow—didn’t they say you shouldn’t hide your Light under a bushel? Or in a bag? Then Jeb moved, and a second face appeared, probably that of the next person who caught the shark’s attention. It could’ve been hours later or a day later; who knew? The face was unfamiliar, but I knew it wouldn’t stay that way. He had stared at the shark, mesmerized. Jeb had brought the Light to the shark, and it had passed something along to the giant fish. The shark had in turn passed it along to the second man. The Light hadn’t been shy about leaving a bit of itself in the shark to go poking about in the guy’s thoughts. Who, where, what? The Light obtained it all . . . and that was what was given to me.

Whatever the Light had given to the second man, however, was gone from the shark’s brain now. I was assuming that missing information would be the location of the Light. Assuming, hoping. But all I received was where to look next—or rather, whom to look in .

Clever. I knew where to look for the next trail marker, but the final resting place of the Light, that I still didn’t know.

Next thing I knew, I was standing on the back of a shark and being pulled upward, back through the netting. I wrapped my arms around Griffin’s free one and literally climbed back up him to the catwalk. Up at the top, I shivered, looked down, and then wrapped my arms around my bare breasts. I glared down at the shark, which was diving playfully with a red lace bra caught in his teeth. Then I laughed. What else could I do? And in my mind Kimano stood at my shoulder, laughing even harder. Black hair, black eyes, sun-browned skin, and a grin brighter than the sun on the Pacific.