Page 45 of Shadow Warrior
Fourteen
Larkin shut the census book, a huge tome that sat proudly on a pedestal. “Okay, so we have an address for Payne,” he said. “He’s living in the cottage on Academy grounds. He’s the new psychology professor.”
Lunar Creek was a place filled with supernatural creatures, most of whom didn’t have a clue they were supernatural. A few, like Trinity and her misfit friends, had figured out they were different and taken it upon themselves to protect the village from harmful forces. They also all happened to be tutors at the local Academy. The majority plodded along in blissful oblivion.
“So, we find the nest,” Kash said. “Tip Trinity and her team off about the location—an anonymous call should do it—and let them wrap up the case. Once the case is over, the weavers won’t be looking at footage of them sleeping, so then we find Payne and convince him to come with us.”
“All in the space of four hours.” Larkin looked at me. “When I say we leave, we leave, regardless, are we clear?”
I pushed away the doubt. “We’re clear.”
“Good.” He headed back to the census tome.
“What are you doing?” Kash asked.
“Phone number for the Lane residence.” He scanned the page and then nodded. “Got it.” He tapped his chin with a claw. “Now, if I were a sucker, where would I nest?”
Both Larkin and Kash turned to look at me.
“Hold up, I’m not a sucker, I’m a nightblood, and we do not nest, unless you call gathering for fancy balls nesting.”
Larkin made a meh sound and seesawed his head. “I suppose so. The suckers of the creek are primal, and their only focus is their next meal.”
I scanned my memories of the show. There had to be a place, a location that had been mentioned before to foreshadow the events of this season. The warehouse on the east side that had been used two seasons ago, or the abandoned farmhouse on the south side, or maybe they’d holed up in an alley somewhere. It was impossible to figure it out until we knew more about these creatures and their habits.
“We need more information about this breed of sucker.” I headed toward the exit. “We’re going to have to eavesdrop on Trinity’s meeting.”
Larkin appeared in front of me, blocking my exit. “Justice, if we do this, you cannot be seen. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “Trust me, the last thing I want is for the weavers to figure out what we’re doing and be waiting for us when we get back. We’ll get the information we need and get out. Simple.”
Kash joined us. “I know where they’ll be meeting,” he said. “Trinity’s house, but the place is guarded by hounds.”
“I can get in. I can use the shadows to take me to Payne.”
“We can’t risk the others seeing you,” Kash reminded me again.
“Besides,” Larkin said. “Your ability may not even work here. It could be twisted into something entirely different. Most weavers that are banished here lose their power completely, or it manifests in small ways. Like I said earlier, the connection to the weave here is tenuous at best.”
I threw up my hands in agitation. “So, what do we do?”
“I can keep the hounds busy,” Larkin said. “We’ll play a little peek-a-boo. I’ll draw them away and give you two time to get inside.” He fixed his orange gaze on me. “No engaging. No lingering. Get what you need and get out.”
Time was running out. I could feel it in my bones, and if we didn’t find the information we needed, then I’d have to face the real possibility of leaving without my father.
I wasn’t ready for that.
* * *
The village hallclock struck midnight as we skulked through the town. Trinity Lane was a regular on Lunar Creek. The last season hadn’t featured much of her, but she’d dominated the season before that. I’d never been as into the show as other supes, but I’d watched it enough to know she was a hard-ass with a dark past and some kickass moves. Her parents had died when she was young, and she’d been raised by Principal Lane and his wife. The principal was a hard man, not prone to showing affection, but he was fair. It was probably why she’d decided to go into teaching herself.
Trinity’s early years on the show had been a wild ride as she searched for her niche.
Looked like she’d found it, not just with the teaching but with the monster-slaying too.
We approached the Lane property—the rambling, old, moss-covered mansion we’d passed on the way in. Gates stood partially open and falling off their hinges. But they didn’t matter, because the Lanes had hounds to ward off trespassers. A neat sign had been hammered into the ground a meter away from the gates:Trespassers will be devoured by huge, hungry hounds. Don’t be suicidal.
I couldn’t help but smile. Nice.
