King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(5)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

You would know, wouldn’t you?

“What about the crap in this letter?” I pointed to the paper still in Mack’s hand.

“I only know that agreements between members, verbal or written, are considered binding. And failure to meet one’s obligations is grounds for immediate expulsion from the Club. All assets of the forfeiting member become property of 10 Club.”

That was a pretty large deterrent for welshers, but unfortunately, those rules only reconfirmed the heap of shit we were in. “Are there more rules?” I asked.

“Yes, but I don’t remember them.”

“Where does King keep his copy?” I asked.

Mack’s eyes floated up.

“Upstairs?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but the third floor is his private chamber. It’s got traps and spells and—”

“Did you just say ‘spells,’ as in magic?”

“Yes. Why?” Mack asked.

“I called all of this crazy stuff magic, but King insists it’s not.”

He shrugged. “You can call a duck anything you like, but it’s still a duck.”

True.

“Just like the crazy crap you do,” he added. “It reeks of quacking.”

“I’m not a duck,” I argued. “I just have a weird gift.”

Mack looked at me as if he were questioning the ever-loving difference.

Fine, whatever. “I’m going upstairs.”

“No. You need to stay the hell away from there.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

“Mack, in twenty-four hours, those psycho bastards from the Club are going to come and stake their flags in our asses. I think at this point, I’ll take the risk of going upstairs.”

Mack rested one hand on his waist and stared at the floor. “We’ll go upstairs, but don’t do anything stupid. Just—just follow me.”

“Have you been up there before?” I asked.

“No. No one goes up there. Unless they have a death wish.”

“Well, check that box.” I marched off toward the stairs.

“Are you out of your mind?” Mack pulled me back again. “I’m not letting you go first. If anything happens to you, King would kill me. Let me go first.”

I didn’t want him getting hurt, either, but he wasn’t really asking. Mack stepped around me, leaving me staring at his broad back as we ascended cautiously. I wanted to poke him in that nice rear of his to make him move faster. Tick tock, buddy!

“So,” he said, his eyes cautiously scanning each stair we stepped on, “what do you think happened to King?”

My guess was the same as his; Vaughn had taken him. Ironically, the bastard was also the reason I’d gotten mixed up in this shame-of-a-fucking-mess to begin with. My brother had, for unknown reasons, gone to Vaughn for funding to support his archaeology pursuits. In exchange, Vaughn wanted first rights to anything Justin unearthed. When that object became the Artifact, my brother instantly knew it was something powerful, perhaps dangerous in the wrong hands, and ran. That’s when I got sucked in.

“The last time I saw King was at the hospital,” I whispered. “He said he was going to meet with my brother, get the Artifact, and then answer a summons from 10 Club. According to Talia, he never showed up to the summons. And according to my brother, King never showed up to meet him either.”

Two more steps.

“Why are you whispering?” Mack asked.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when approaching something dangerous?” I whispered again.

Another step.

“This isn’t Scooby Doo. So, do you believe him? Your brother?” Mack asked in his regular voice.

The air became thick and heavy, like it was filled with rotting souls and toxic vapors from hell. Why in the world would King want to live in a place like this?

“Justin has no reason to lie to me,” I replied quietly. “If he says that King called and told him to leave the Artifact in an empty apartment, that’s what happened.”

Two more steps.

“What do you think happened to King?” I whispered.

“Stop whispering; it’s making me nervous. And like I said, I think Vaughn happened. No one else is crazy enough to go after King.”

If true, I could only imagine what sorts of horrific things Vaughn might be doing to him. Because the last time the two had seen each other was at that stupid party I keep referring to, when King ripped off Vaughn’s arm for touching me. Yes, he’d touched me in a bad way. No, I didn’t feel bad about the arm; the lunatic had it coming.

We got to the small landing, where the stairs turned in the opposite direction, giving us a partial view of the third floor.

“It’s completely dark,” Mack said. It was the first time I’d ever seen him anxious. Mack, who served in Iraq doing a “special assignment” and made it clear he was a deadly sort of guy, was not one to scare easily. The fact his brow was covered with a light sheen of sweat only amplified my own fear.

I began to hum “Twist and Shout” by the Beatles.

Mack looked at me and ran his hand through his messy, short, blond hair. “Why do you always hum Beatles songs when you’re nervous?”

“How did you know that?” To my knowledge, this was the first time I’d done it in front of him.

Mack shrugged. “King told me about it. Said he thought it was cute.”

I blinked a few times. King had been talking about me to Mack? And said something I did was cute?

“In a very annoying, childish sort of way,” Mack added.

Oh. That was more like it. King wasn’t one to sit around gushing with words of adoration. That said, I thought it was a bit strange King spoke of me at all. He wasn’t a conversationalist.

“What else did King say?” I asked.

Mack shook his head. “We’d be here all night.” He pointed up the stairs toward the darkened room. “But if we survive this, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Promise?” I asked.

Mack held up his hand. “King’s honor.”

“Cute. I’m sure…” I forgot what I was about to say. The colors began popping all around me, swirling over the stairs, ceiling, and walls. This entire building had been coated in some sort of bad energy, probably to warn people away, but the energy up on the third floor felt much different, intense.

“Do you see anything up there?” Mack asked. What he meant was if I could see anything with my gift.