Gunmetal Magic(98)

Curran looked at me, then looked at Kate.

“Revenge,” Kate said. “I’ll explain later.”

Something hissed. The three of us looked up. A dark shadow rose on the neighboring roof, and I recognized Shawn, one of Jim’s people. Speak of the devil. “He’s coming,” Shawn hissed. “Raphael’s coming.”

Oh shit.

“Help!” Kate held her arms out.

Curran grabbed the biohazard suit and ripped it in half, stripping it from her. Kate thrust the suit into the nearest trash can.

I ran inside the house, locked the front door, ran upstairs, lowered the attic ladder, climbed into the attic, pulled the ladder up behind me, and dashed along the beam to the corner over the living room. My surveillance nest waited for me. I’d bugged the entrance and every room in the house, and now the images from the house filled my tablet. I was going to record this for posterity. I plugged the earpiece in.

Curran and Kate stood by the door.

“I can’t believe you decided to come down here and check on me,” she said.

“The guy once handed you a fan and told you to fan yourself if the sight of his naked torso was too much.”

“That was like a year ago. Will you let it go already?”

“No.” Curran grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her. “Never.”

She kissed him back and smiled.

Awww. Kate and the Beast Lord sitting in a tree…

The sound of a car pulling into the parking lot.

I scooted on my pallet of plywood. Showtime.

Raphael approached. My heart skipped a beat. He looked good. He was also carrying something long and wrapped in canvas.

“Hello,” Raphael said.

Now that I looked closer, he seemed a little tired. There were slight bags under his intense blue eyes. Yeah, those sleepless nights of breaking into people’s apartments and rearranging furniture must be killer.

“Hi,” Kate said with a big fake smile.

Don’t overdo it, woman. Come on.

Curran just stared. Jesus Christ, those two couldn’t lie their way out of a paper bag.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.

“We have something important…to discuss,” Curran said.

I hit my hand on my face. Brilliant, Your Majesty. Not suspicious at all.

“In private. Inside,” Kate said.

Raphael looked at Curran then slowly at Kate. “Please come in. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. For some reason all of the plumbing in the Clan Bouda House came apart and my mother called me.”

“What do you mean, came apart?” Kate asked.

“I mean that every coupling and fitting in the house has been pulled open,” Raphael said.

“I didn’t know you were in the plumbing repair business,” Curran said.

“I’m in the good son business. I couldn’t leave my mother in the house with no running water.” Raphael opened the door. “Some idiot likely pulled a prank. It’s a house full of boudas.”

“What’s this?” Kate asked pointing at the bundle.

“An apology for being a selfish asshole.” Raphael unwrapped the canvas, revealing the instantly identifiable shape of a high-tech compound bow: low-tech bows were bent outward, like a crescent, but this bow’s center bent inward, toward the archer. I zoomed in. Lightweight, a hollow carbon fiber riser with the telltale Celtic knot grid pattern, dampers to absorb the recoil vibration, ornate cams, string suppressors…Oh Jesus Christ, he was holding an Ifor compound bow. Sleekest, leanest, meanest bow on the market, with pinpoint accuracy and a vibration-free shot delivered in complete silence. It wasn’t a bow, it was death wrapped in a dream and twenty-first-century engineering. They were made in Wales by a single artisan family, one at a time. I had been trying to buy one for ages, but there was a waiting list a mile long and UK buyers were given a strong preference. How could he even get one? Where?

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Raphael asked.

“She’ll love it,” Kate said. “But I don’t think buying her things will work.”

For me! The bow was for me! I dropped my tablet.

Raphael glanced up. “Did you hear something?”

Oh crap.

“No,” Curran said. “Can we come in?”

“Of course.” Raphael wrapped the bow back up.

I switched to the foyer camera.

The door swung open.

I held my breath.

Raphael stepped inside.

I tapped the screen, splitting it in two and zooming the right half on his face.

Raphael opened his mouth and froze.

The entire house was covered in purple ultra-long shag carpet. It wasn’t just purple, it was bright, vivid, psychotic grape-purple. It made my eyes bleed after a mere five seconds. Medrano Reclamations had pulled miles of it out of some warehouse they had reclaimed, and Stefan had sold the entire lot to me dirt cheap, because nobody in their right mind would ever buy it.