Zandria Munson - The Enemy's Kiss

“I’m on it.”

A moment later numbers leapt to the screen, scrolling left to right in a random order. Daniela placed her laptop on the floor and waited.

Having a partner certainly made things easier. Mai always worked behind the scenes, as that was where her talents lay. She made all the connections, cracked all the computer codes, communicated with clients and infiltrated Chinatown’s black market to purchase the latest in spy gear. The proceeds from every heist were always split fifty-fifty, and they used them for their own individual causes. Daniela chose to provide assistance to less fortunate families and children. She checked her watch just as the sound of locks being released could be heard. The heavy vault door eased open a crack. A smile crept to her lips. “Good job.”

Nicholas slammed the door of his silver Lamborghini and stormed up the gallery steps. He’d received a call from the police only minutes before arriving home; the gallery had been broken into.

His scowl darkened as he pushed past the officers guarding the front entrance and marched through the marble archway that led into the gallery’s vault. Marius stood at the exit, speaking with a detective.

Nicholas headed toward them. “What happened here?”

Marius looked up as he approached. “A thief entered through the roof only moments after we left. He disabled the cameras and was gone before the authorities arrived.”

“What has been taken?” he asked.

Marius shot the detective a look then Nicholas, his eyes reflecting a contained measure of discontent. “The only item missing is the Rune of Moloch,” he said.

Nicholas met his stare and uneasiness crept over him. He stepped around his brother to examine the tampered wires of the security panel. This had been no random act, he was sure. Why would any thief overlook all the priceless items within the gallery and steal only a stone with no apparent value? The heist had to have been contrived by one who knew the rune stone’s significance.

The detective spoke then. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.” He extended a hand. “Detective Simmons.”

Nicholas shook his hand and the detective continued.

“We have reason to believe that the thief who robbed you tonight is the Midnight Bandit. He’s struck over twenty jewelry and antiques stores within the past year and his pattern is always the same—very clean entry, disables all secondary security devices within a twenty—or thirty-foot radius, hacks the main computer to gain access to the vaults, takes only one item and then disappears before the authorities arrive.”

“And you have no knowledge of who is committing these crimes?” Nicholas asked.

“None. The thief never leaves fingerprints, DNA evidence or even eyewitnesses. One thing’s for certain—this guy’s really meticulous. We’ve only been following leads, most of which turn up empty.”

“Have any of the stolen items ever been recovered?” Marius asked.

“Unfortunately, no. We have reason to believe they’re channeled through the black market and out of the country.”

Nicholas folded his arms across his broad chest. “So this ‘Midnight Bandit’ has been rampaging through the city for an entire year and yet you have no answers or solutions to offer?”

The detective’s gaze flitted to Marius and back. “We just don’t have the manpower to watch every potential target in this city. It’s impossible. There’s no budget for it. So we’ve been encouraging business owners like yourselves to take additional measures to protect your properties. It makes our job a little easier.”

One of Nicholas’s dark brows shot up. “And still you have yet to make progress?”

Marius cleared his throat. “I am certain you are doing everything you can. We will do whatever is necessary to assist you with your investigations.” He sent Nicholas a pointed look.

Nicholas inclined his head and said no more. He allowed Marius to continue the interview while he headed toward the back of the gallery. He looked at the neat hole that had been left in the skylight above. The glass, he knew, was two inches thick. His gaze fell to the marble floor, combing it for any pieces that may have fallen, but found nothing.

He strayed over to the wide glass windows and his gaze locked on to a point on the roof of the building across the street. They had no doubt been watched. His trepidation mounted. Somehow someone had learned that the rune would be delivered on that day and had devised a plan to steal it. Nicholas had been careful to keep news of its transport among only those who needed to know. This could mean only one thing: someone within their clan couldn’t be trusted.

“Must you always be so embarrassing?” Marius’s reflection appeared in the glass before him.

Nicholas shot him a glance over his shoulder. “One of the sacred runes has been stolen. I do not think my behavior warrants objection. There was a time when a thief stood no chance against the law. He was apprehended and sometimes beheaded right on the spot.”

“In case you have not noticed, things have changed. Public decapitations would be sorely frowned upon. It is called being civilized. You would do well to embrace it.”

He turned to face Marius. “The matter of this missing rune should not be taken lightly, brother. If it is so much as damaged the spell can be broken.”

Marius looked pensive. “Father will not be pleased to hear of this. That secret has been buried within our family for many centuries. Whoever stole it must know of its importance.”

Nicholas flexed his neck as a sudden ache began to move down his spine. “There are two possibilities. He intends only to attempt to harvest the power of the stone, for the knowledge of runes has not yet been forgotten. Or he is preparing to conjure the dark and ancient magic that retains the souls of our uncle and his followers. Either way it is a risk we cannot afford.”

“And what of its twin?” Marius questioned. “The Rune of Cythe?”

“Only father knows its location.”

Again Nicholas pondered the possibility of one of their own bloodline plotting to break the spell. Surely the ruin that Gabriel had caused was no secret. To think that someone would wish to revive him was indeed disconcerting.

“I must travel to Romania,” Nicholas told Marius.

“I will go with you,” Marius offered.

“No, your wife needs you here.”

Marius nodded. “And father?” His brows were furrowed with concern.

Nicholas sighed. “I will be the one to tell him.” He sauntered back toward the hole in the skylight and peered up into it.

His eyes narrowed. The space was only large enough for a very slender form to pass through. He would’ve made mention of it, but a faint scent passed into his nostrils. He paused—it was barely present, a soft wisp of something pleasant.

Marius looked at him. “What is it?” he asked.

“There is a fragrance on the air.”

Marius inhaled softly. “I smell nothing.”

Nicholas realized that he was again tapping into the abilities he’d possessed as a gargoyle. He found it odd that Marius was unable to do the same.

“The air is laced with it,” he told him as he inhaled deeply.

Marius followed. “What does it smell like?”

Nicholas was silent for a moment then he turned to face his brother. “Like roses.”

Drakon Castle, Romania

Nicholas flexed the thick and aching muscles of his neck. Obscured within the shadows of the large dining hall of his family’s estate, he waited. He’d been pacing the darkness as he’d contemplated all the possible motives for what had occurred, when a noise had alerted him. Silently, he’d made his way down the hall, slipping an eighteenth-century rapier from the wall in the process.