Sweet Peril
Page 15

He sat back in his chair, regarding her with wary respect and I wanted to punch the air. He knew she was right. He’d scoured the earth looking for Mariantha—my mother, a guardian angel whom he’d never stopped loving. Dad gave me a slow nod.
“The fact is, you’ll be less distracted with him out of the picture. So, for now, no trips to California, and I don’t want to hear anything else about him. Got it?”
Patti winked at me.
“Got it,” I whispered.
He’d said “for now.” It was a flimsy phrase to cling to, but still I clung.
CHAPTER FIVE
FIRST ASSIGNMENT
Five weeks passed that summer without hearing from Dad. The good thing was, whisperers were checking on me only once every couple of weeks. The bad thing was, I hated being kept in the dark, and I was impatient. Summer was flying by and I’d been hoping to get some things accomplished before the start of senior year.
I sat on our balcony after my jog, wishing for a breeze in the stifling late morning air.
Patti came out and handed me a steaming mug of coffee.
“You work today?” Patti asked.
I shook my head. “Tomorrow.” I still had my job at the soft-serve stand.
She took a long drink of her coffee and grinned. “Wanna hear something weird? I feel like spending some of that demon loot.”
I almost choked on the sip I’d just taken. Patti never wanted to spend money, especially the haul Dad had given us. She laughed at my expression.
“Come on,” she said. “It’ll be fun. Let’s go crazy.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I said.
We were worn out by the time we headed home. A good song came on the country station, and Patti cranked up the volume. We belted out the twangy chorus so loudly it’s a wonder I heard my cell phone ring. I turned down the radio and my heart hammered at the sight of Dad’s number.
“Where are you?” he grumbled.
“I’m on my way home with Patti.”
“From where?”
Biting my thumbnail, I mumbled, “Atlanta.”
“What the hell are you doing out there?”
I bristled at his tone. “We were just shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“Patti spent a ton of money. It was awesome.” I giggled and Patti popped my leg.
Dad growled something incoherent, then said, “Well, hurry up. I’m at your place.”
Yes! News! I smiled, part smug that he’d have to wait on me for once.
“Tell him to hold his horses,” Patti said. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
When we got to the apartment, I stopped in the doorway, surprised to see someone standing at Dad’s side.
“Kope!” I hadn’t meant to sprint across the small room to hug him around the neck, but I did. Had he always been this tall? I felt his frame rumble with light laughter. He pulled away from the embrace first, giving me a shy grin that showed off the single dimple in his cheek. The black badge of Wrath rested at his sternum.
Kope had never seemed very young to begin with. Too much wisdom lived in those hazel eyes. But he looked even more mature these days with a bit of facial hair on his chin. His black hair was trimmed really short, and his coffee skin was as smooth as ever. He met my gaze full-on and I couldn’t stop smiling. Seeing one of my Neph friends after all this time was empowering.
“You are looking well, Anna,” he said. He didn’t often use contractions, but the end sounds of some words were clipped off and smoothed together in a languid, slippery sort of way, like verbal cursive.
“Thanks, Kope,” I told him. “So are you.”
I turned my attention to Dad.
“So? What are we doing? Where are we going?”
His chuckle was dry, and he reached up to scratch his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I said, remembering my manners. “You guys sit down and then we can talk.”
I went into the kitchen, where Patti was already filling four tall glasses with iced tea. The guys took seats around our small dining table.
Dad pulled a large manila envelope from his jacket and opened it, setting a few pictures facedown, as Patti and I sat across from them.
“It’s still important to keep a low profile after that bout of interest in you, but I think it’s safe to move forward. It’ll be best not to give you all the details about my intel, but I have several trusted humans and spirits who have been gathering information about Neph worldwide. This is the first one I can say for certain does not have a heart for her father’s work and may be willing to help us.”
I smiled and bit my lip, excited and anxious. He flipped over a picture, showing an Arab girl in full garb with a head covering. Only an oval of her olive-toned face showed. In the next picture she was crouching in front of a child with a skinned knee who had fallen. It was obvious she was going to help him, but the picture had been taken at the perfect moment to capture her eyes giving the area a stealthy scan, as if making certain her act of kindness would not be witnessed.
“Her name is Zania,” Dad explained. “She lives in Damascus, Syria, with her father, Sonellion, the Duke of Hatred.” A chill shot up my spine at the name of her father. “They moved to Syria two years ago from the kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Syria’s had some civil unrest, but the area she lives in is still safe for the most part.”
“How long has Duke Sonellion been in the Middle East?” I asked.