Collateral Damage_A Tethered Novel Read online

  Jakes face lit up as the words sank in. “You want to send me, to London, to authenticate artifacts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is amazing! Thank you so much, Mr. McGinley!” He grinned madly, and fist punched the air before realizing where he was and settling back into his seat. “I mean, of course, this would be an incredible honor.”

  “I am glad you think so. How long do you need before you can leave?”

  “Heck, I can leave tomorrow!”

  “Wonderful. I will have Jess get everything in order for you.” He couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the excitement reflecting on the young man's face. Seeing that love and elation on Jakes' face had made him grateful he’d gone ahead and asked about sending him as a replacement. It surprised him that he felt joy at Jake’s excitement. Who knew, perhaps he wasn’t such a careless bastard after all.

  “I cannot thank you enough, Mr. McGinley, this is an opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “You are more than welcome. I trust that you will do good work and make a name for McGinley Antiquities while you’re over there.”

  “I sure will Sir.”

  “Go ahead and take the rest of the day to prepare yourself to leave.”

  “Will do! Thanks again!” Jake practically ran to the elevator, and Timothy found he was slightly jealous. What he would give to feel that excitement, that absolute enjoyment of the unknown even one more time in his long life.

  Chapter 2

  Paislee Adams pulled her hood up over her head and stepped onto the street. She watched closely as people walked nearby and kept her eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, this was now second nature for her.

  She pulled her backpack closer to her and pushed her way through the crowd towards the library where she spent the majority of her time researching and trying to find a way to control the part of her she didn’t fully understand.

  People passed by her, completely unaware that the humming was slowly building in her blood making her feel like at any one point she might explode into a million pieces and destroy everything and everyone around her.

  She stepped into the local library but kept her hood up. With her fiery red hair, she stuck out like a sore thumb anywhere she went. People tended to remember the redhead with the giant, ragged scar along her jaw. She was a hard face to forget.

  “Can I help you find anything dear?” the elderly woman working the counter asked as Paislee stepped through the entry doors.

  “No thank you, I’m just browsing.”

  “You got it dear. If you need anything just let me know.”

  “Will do, thanks.” She smiled and made her way through the rows and rows of books and to the back of the library towards their magic section. When she’d first stumbled into this library, it had felt like she would finally discover answers to the millions of questions in her mind. Their paranormal and magic section was broader than any of the others. It wasn’t long though before she realized most of it was crap written by those with zero-real knowledge about the subjects they claimed to be experts in.

  Once she reached the section she was looking for, she placed her bag down on the nearest table and went over to the rack to scan the titles.

  She imagined these books were here for amusement purposes rather than actual how-to guides since it seemed the majority of the public didn’t actually believe in magic. Shit, she hadn’t believed in it even as a child, not until she’d no longer been able to refuse its existence.

  She grabbed a book titled My Magic and I: A detailed look at the magic inside of you from the shelf and made her way back to her table so she could start her research for the day.

  The cover was a deep purple with gold words that stuck up from the thin paper jacket. She opened to the first page and read the inscription, To my sister with love. I’m forever grateful we were blessed with this power together. Blessed be.

  Paislee rolled her eyes, especially when she started actually flipping through the pages.

  This book had clearly been written by a woman who’s only power was boring the shit out of people. It was jam-packed full of crackpot love spells that had no actual hope of working.

  She looked down at the words of one incantation that was supposed to bring wealth and happiness to any and all that believed.

  To me, I call my magic wide

  Show me as I watch the sky

  Bring me love and happiness near

  Show me the path to my monetary ear

  What in the actual crap was a monetary ear? Paislee shut the book and returned it to its shelf. If she’d had the time, she might have been interested to read what other stupid crap had been put into the book. But she didn’t have time, not when her life was on the line.

  Instead she grabbed a book titled Magic: real or hoax and took her seat at the table again. She needed to find something, anything that could help her harness the power inside of her.

  Because if he found her and she wasn’t ready for him, she doubted she would be able to escape again.

  * * *

  The day had unfortunately proven to be a bust as far as learning about her heritage. The book's author had some interesting ideas about where magic originated from, but there had been absolutely nothing in there about how to control it if you did possess the gifts.

  That was her biggest concern, she was a ticking time bomb. Her magic would grow inside her, and then release itself in whatever way it felt like. Just last month, she’d nearly killed a man who slapped her on the butt as she was leaving a bar.

  Sure, he might have deserved an ass kicking for it, but not the jolt of power that shot him back as if he’d been electrocuted.

  She supposed the plus was he probably wouldn’t be grabbing anyone else’s ass for a while. The negative was that she’d liked that bar. The bartender had been cute, and she’d enjoyed the easy conversations they’d had each night over a glass of whiskey. He had looked at her the way men studied women they were attracted to, and Paislee had considered taking him to bed more than once.

  The day had darkened into dusk as she stepped onto the street and headed towards the pawnshop she visited every now and then. She was running low on cash, and in the event, she would need to run, it was going to be important to have some on hand.

  Giovanni’s Pawn was six blocks from her apartment, and while the owner was a disgusting excuse for a man, he never asked her questions, and since her items were stolen, that was more important to her than his manners.

  “Hey, look it’s the fire crotch!” Giovanni’s voice boomed as she stepped into the store. She had to bite back the anger at her nickname, it would do no good to level the shop when she needed the money.

  “I have a new item for you.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a plastic container that held an incredibly old painting. She had only briefly looked at it, and it was the first one she had brought in to pawn. Her previous items had been gold coins, pottery, and weapons from the early 1800’s.

  He took the painting from her and carefully unrolled it than snorted and tossed it back at her. She glared at him, she loved antiques, and he had just tossed it at her like it was garbage.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with a painting of some dude and his whore?”

  “It’s an original McCreary painting. Which if you knew your history, you would realize is well worth fifty grand. And that’s on the low side.”

  “You want me to pay 50 thousand fucking dollars for a piece of paper?” He howled in laughter, and Paislee’s cheeks turned red. “Oh, look at you! Your cheeks nearly match your hair, fire crotch. I tell you what, you show me what you have down there, and I might pay you your fifty grand.”

  It was Paislee's turn to let out a laugh. “No, thanks.”

  “Well, then I suggest you go and get that authenticated before bringing it back to me.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

  “I d
on’t give a shit. It’s not me who needs the money, if you rethink my offer let me know, it’s always on the table. I bet you’d be a hellcat in the sack.” He winked at her and Paislee fought the urge to throw him the bird. She was wound tight, and it wouldn’t take much before she snapped. It really was too bad she needed his shop standing.

  “Any ideas where I can take it?”

  He shrugged. “There’s a place on the other side of town. It’s called McGinley Antiquities. The guy who runs it knows his shit. You get a certificate from there, and I’ll buy your painting.”

  “Lovely. I’ll be back.” She left before he said something else stupid to piss her off. How the hell was she supposed to get a certificate of authenticity on a stolen item? If his office had been notified of the theft, she could get arrested.

  It would help if she knew whether or not the original owner had gotten it through legal channels, but as it was, she wasn’t sure that would be the case. She’d be willing to bet the son of a bitch had stolen it himself, or more likely, had paid someone else to steal it. The last damn thing she needed was to get arrested. It would be entirely too easy for him to find her if she was behind bars.

  “Fuck!” she yelled once she got outside of the shop and headed towards the other side of town. She didn’t have a choice, if there was no money to keep her safe, she was as good as dead anyway.

  As she walked, she went through the notes she’d taken over the last week in her head. So far, the closest she’d come to learning anything had been an old book she’d discovered in the library titled The Mystics of Magic. When she’d gone back the next day, the librarian had informed her it had been purchased by a man in exchange for a large donation.

  The woman had been absolutely beaming, elated that the library was getting new computers and hundreds of new titles for its shelves. Of course, she’d been happy about it, how could she have known that the woman standing before her had needed that book desperately?

  It wasn’t like she could get a library card since she didn’t even have a single form of identification. She lived in a crap hole apartment because the woman that ran it was a junkie whose only concern was when she was going to get her next high.

  Unfortunately, Paislee knew all too well what a junkie would do in order to score some drugs.

  She shook her head, no sense in dwelling on the past. It was there for a reason and was no use to her now. Now was all about focusing on learning as much as she could before she destroyed the man who had torn apart her entire existence.

  Paislee continued walking through parts of town most people wouldn’t want to be in alone after dark. She ignored those who asked her for help and pushed through the catcalls from the men sitting on steps of their apartments,

  Before long though, those scenes disappeared and were replaced with up kept, gorgeous brownstones and lovers walking together amongst the snow that was now falling lightly.

  It stuck to her jacket, and Paislee stopped for just a moment to appreciate the beauty of it. She’d always loved the snow and after going nearly fourteen years without being able to touch it, took every opportunity to feel it. Even now, she stuck her hand out to allow the tiny flakes to dissolve against her warm palm.

  She continued her walk into downtown and stopped across the street from McGinley Antiquities. The tall, looming building had been beautifully sculpted with stone, it’s elegance portrayed in tall arches above the windows and main entry door.

  It was well past closing time, but Paislee had wanted to get eyes on the company before she resigned to her apartment to do research. Knowing the location helped to calm her nerves.

  What kind of man, or men, had built this company? Were they honorable and would turn her away at the first hint of trouble? Or were they like Giovanni or the man who’d held her captive and relish at the opportunity to get their thieving hands on such a priceless item?

  It was the last of the things she’d stolen upon her escape, and she’d told herself she had only kept it because it was the most expensive. Truthfully though, there was something in the painting that called to her. Whether it was the haunting eyes of the man standing protectively with the red-haired woman or the way she looked up at him with pure love reflecting in her own. It could have even been that Paislee thought she’d resembled the woman, and wanted to imagine what it would feel like to have someone look at you as if you’re the only person in the entire world that mattered.

  Paislee wondered if the man depicted in the painting had at one point been a real person and if he and the woman had truly been in love. Because whenever she stared down at that painting that was the emotion she felt.

  The artist had captured pure and absolute love.

  She saw a man in a black hoodie slip into the alley behind the building, and moments later a shot rang out. It was muffled as if being fired from a silencer and had she not heard that sound countless times in her life, she might have thought it was just another random noise in the city.

  But she knew what it was, and while most would have run the other way, Paislee found herself sprinting towards the alley.

  Chapter 3

  Timothy stared out of his large windows at the darkening sky. The city was never more beautiful than it was right now as the sun sank lower leaving trails of orange, yellow, and red in its wake.

  City lights were just beginning to come on and the combination of them and the sunset as the last rays glinted against the white blanket of snow was pure magic.

  He scoffed at the thought, nothing good came from magic. Only death and despair. He drank down the rest of the whiskey in his glass and grabbed his jacket off the chair. He never smoked in his office, but damn he could use a cigar now.

  Since everyone had gone home for the evening except for Ashton who was in his office watching the security feeds, the building would be silent which was something he dreaded each night.

  He had spent a lot of years in the silence, and it was deafening.

  Timothy stepped out into the alley behind his building and clipped the end of the cigar he had pulled from his office humidor. He held it up to his nose and breathed in the sweet smell before lighting it.

  The darkness enveloped him as he leaned against the door and puffed on his cigar. There was nothing in the world like the taste of a fine cigar as the tobacco seeped into your system.

  The calming effect it had on him was one he’d failed to find anywhere else. The chill in the air had the puffs coming out even more defined than usual, and Timothy was enthralled by them as they faded from view.

  It wasn’t until he was half done with his cigar that he saw the shadow lurking in the corner.

  “Can I help you?” he asked easily, and the man stepped from the dark. Timothy straightened when he saw the gun in his hand. “No need for that, tell me what you want, and I’ll be sure you get it.” Timothy wasn’t overly worried; the man couldn’t actually kill him. But damn, gunshots hurt like hell. He should know since he’d been at the receiving end of one too many times to count.

  The man stepped close enough Timothy was able to see the glint of amusement in his eye. Timothy had only ever seen that madness once before, and that man had been responsible for two innocent deaths and the root reason as to why he was trapped.

  His back straightened, and he gave the man before him his full attention. “What is it you want?” he asked again.

  “I want to see you bleed,” the man said with a smile and pulled the trigger.

  It was the pain that hit him first, that sharp tearing of skin and flesh as the bullet forced its way into his body. He fell to the ground, cigar falling next to him, and clutched his abdomen. No matter how many times he’d been shot, stabbed, punched, or even on occasion-burned—over the years, the pain was not something he ever got used to.

  The coldness came next and was something Timothy had not been prepared for. His wounds, no matter how severe, had always healed themselves before the numbing fingers of death gripped him as they were now. How was this possibl
e? He thought to himself. What was happening to him? He tried his best to move but found his body had gone completely numb as he lay there in the pool of his own blood.

  And as his attacker knelt next to him, he felt for the first time, as if he wouldn’t survive the night.

  “I knew he was wrong about you.” The man smiled. “Oh well, I suppose it was worth the trouble. There is just something about having the ability to snuff out the light within someone’s eyes.”

  “Hey!” a voice screamed, and the man stood.

  Timothy wasn’t sure what happened next, but where it had once been dark, a light appeared, and his attacker was thrown away from him. He watched as the light faded, but not before he got a clear picture of the one who had saved him.

  A woman, with hair the color of fire, and kind blue eyes, ran to his side and knelt in the blood that poured from him.

  “Cait?” he whispered. Was he dead? Was she sent here to usher him into what waited beyond this life?

  “You’re going to be alright,” Cait said as she closed her eyes and pressed her hands to him.

  It would always be the pain he remembered first, but the surge of power that came next would be impossible to forget.

  * * *

  Paislee fell to her knees next to the bleeding man. “No, no, no you can’t die.” Had they somehow discovered she was coming here for help? How had they found her? Had Giovanni sold her out?

  She had recognized the man holding the gun even in the dark from where she stood at the end of the alley. He was Malcolm’s assassin, one that had been gunning for her ever since she escaped. He’d nearly cornered her twice already, and she’d managed to barely evade him.

  Fuck this man can’t die because of me. She pressed her hands to his wound and willed her magic to heal him, which was something she had never done before. She had absolutely no idea what it would do to the man, especially with the amount of power she’d built up recently. But since he was lying there dying, she figured it couldn’t hurt.