Blind Salvage: A Rylee Adamson Novel(39)

Dox’s eyes softened and his breathing, which I hadn’t realized had been hitched and shallow, evened out. Apparently, it wasn’t just me feeling the vibe the area was giving off. Liam though, I checked him out in the mirror If anything, he was on high alert. No relaxing there.
“Hey, you smoking something over there that we can’t see?” I punched Dox lightly in the arm. He shook his head, his eyes never leaving the road.
“It’s the smell of home.” As if that said it all. Maybe it did; I couldn’t wait to get back to the farmhouse, to my own bed and my own space. But I surely didn’t look stoned when I was jonesing for my own bed. But if it was the smell of home, why was I picking up on it?
“It’s a ruse.” Dox glanced over at me. “Something to keep other supernaturals calm and mellow before—”
“Before they get slaughtered?”
He nodded and I took a deep breath. Clever, very clever.
Dox parked the truck at a pay parking lot, slid out of his side and looked around, like a seven-foot tall trying-to-be-subtle FBI agent. I slid out, checked my weapons, and Liam followed, checking his two blades and straightening his clothes. Around us were red brick buildings, each one no lower than three stories. Stamped concrete below our feet collected miniature rivers in the grooves with the steady rain that fell from the overcast sky. At least it wasn’t snow.
“I’d like to go somewhere warm after this,” I muttered.
“Mexico?” Liam’s eyebrows quirked upward and I nodded.
“Yeah, Mexico, where I can just slowly roast in the heat.”
Dox glared at us. “Shut up, you two. And don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.”
I opened my mouth and he clamped a big hand over it. “I mean it, Rylee. Your mouth will get us killed without so much as a ‘fuck you’ slipping out of it. And if things go sideways, you will get the hell out of here. Understood?”
There weren’t too many people I would let get away with man-handling me. Dox was one of them, Liam the other. And that about did up my tally of man-handlers.
Jaw tight, I gave him a stiff nod. Damn, I had no idea that Dox could be such a hardass. Even if it was kinda warranted. But if he thought I would leave him behind, for any reason, he didn’t know me as well as he thought. I didn’t leave my friends behind, not ever.
With long strides, Dox crossed the wide open courtyard that cut between the buildings. I scrambled to keep up, trying to take everything in, our feet slapping in the accumulated water on the concrete.
There were no humans around that I could see; maybe everyone really was on a doobie break. Or maybe it was just the steady rain. Or maybe it was something I hadn’t quite put my finger on yet.
Liam and I settled into a jog, catching up to Dox as he rounded a corner and entered a second wide courtyard, this one with small metal trivets sunk at intervals in the ground. It looked like a setup for a fancy water fountain, but I didn’t ask. Nope, I managed to keep my mouth shut. At the center of the courtyard, I could feel the difference in the air. I let my eyes droop to half mast, seeing the slightest of differences. This was not a mirrored reflection like Doran’s house, this was an actual entrance to the veil. In the middle of the gods-be-damned courtyard. The entrance point seemed to be one of the sunken metal trivets, rusted and bent; I would have bet good money that the humans didn’t think it worked anymore.
Dox crossed the veil as he stepped on the metal trivet, his body shifting between the human world and the supernatural. Liam and I followed.
Before we could finish crossing the courtyard, three ogres stepped out from the buildings around us, their skin shimmering in the rain. Each one of them towered over Dox, their faces bejeweled with gold. Bright gemstones pierced not only in their eyebrows, lips and ears, but were set in their cheeks and chins too. Dressed in deep brown leather pants, knee-high boots, and vests, their arms and much of their torsos were bare to the weather, but they didn’t seem to mind. I caught a glimmer of steel when they moved. Weapons, of what kind I couldn’t be sure, but they were packing. And they were big boys.
More disturbing than the weapons though—they had violet skin, the skin that had covered the book of the Lost. The book Milly had stolen. A chill swept over me that had nothing to do with the inclement weather. Coincidence? I think not.
“Motherfucking pus monkey, will you look who it is,” the largest of the ogres crowed, his hands on his hips, violet eyes dancing with laughter. I took that as a good sign. An ogre who was quick to laugh, that had to be good, right?
Dox though, he tensed. Maybe I was wrong.