Licence To Howl by Helen Harper

Chapter Six

Now that hewas in a position to look around, Devereau was unimpressed with the building and its immediate surroundings. The area was ringed by a high stone wall which had been coated with anti-climb paint that would make it nigh on impossible to scale even for someone of his abilities. The only way in or out was via the remote controlled gates which he’d snuck in through while hunkered behind the car.

Within the walls, there was an overly ornate fountain set in one corner of the narrow landscaped gardens and a small outdoor gym that didn’t look as if it received any sort of action. The grass was manicured so neatly and with such precision that it appeared sanitised to the point of ridicule. The building itself wasn’t any better. He might have been charmed by the rest of Rome that he’d seen so far but this place was like a Disneyfied version. Carved sandstone that was too pristine to be anything other than wholly modern, random jutting blocks with whorls and curves which were simply too … perfect, and elaborate balconies that he supposed were meant to be romantic and inspired by Romeo and Juliet but instead looked like incongruous afterthoughts. The entire structure lacked the character of the other nearby buildings although at least the anti-climb paint didn’t extend to the main structure itself. Devereau was certain the rooms inside would be large, airy and filled with ostentatious gilt features and uncomfortable furniture. He’d seen similar attempts at design in London. It was intended to inspire awe and admiration but actually ended up being both dull and cold. Whoever lived here had far more money than taste. But then he already knew that from what he’d seen of the ring.

If he hadn’t been naked and it hadn’t been December, he might have waited around a bit longer and spent more time working out the lay of the land. However, his teeth were starting to chatter and he was keen to get this entire operation over and done with as quickly as possible so he could get back to his hotel and get some clothes on. At least the building’s design would make it easy to scale – and the physical exertion would warm him up. Heading for the side of the building, where there were no security cameras and there was less chance his mountaineering attempt would be noticed, he jumped up, using the overhanging curves of the lowest balustrade to pull himself up. He swung onto the first balcony. There was a glimmer of light from beyond the closed curtains which he completely ignored. Reminding himself not to look down, he balanced on the edge of the balcony wall before stretching up for the next section. With his muscles straining, he continued to clamber up.

‘Go to Rome,’ he muttered to himself. ‘It’ll be fun. You’ll be an international super spy saving the world from the threat of an evil gang intent on wrongdoings. You’ll be a hero. And you’ll even get to climb up the side of an ugly building while stark bollock naked. What could be better?’

His foot landed on a jutting curl of sandstone. The moment he braced his weight on it so he could spring up to the next section, there was a loud cracking sound. It was going to give way. Cursing, he sped up, leaping upwards as the stone gave way and fell to the ground with a painfully loud crash. Oops. This stupid building was definitely not his sort of thing. Devereau hastily hauled himself up the last few metres before any security guards with big guns came to investigate the noise. The sooner he did what he’d come here to do, the better.

He planted his feet on the relative safety of the balcony belonging to the thirteenth floor and took a moment to catch his breath. Getting up here had been one thing but he doubted he’d find it quite so easy to climb back down the same way. He’d have to find an alternative route for his escape. He’d work something out. He usually did.

Devereau sidled along the wide balcony to the other side. The curtains here were also closed but the floor to ceiling glass door was open a fraction, probably to let in some fresh air. He paused for a moment, listening. There was a low murmur of voices but they were coming from further away, muffled by at least one interior wall. As satisfied as he could be that the room beyond was empty, he gripped the glass door and slid it further open so he could get inside. At least it moved soundlessly. Maybe there was something to be said for tasteless design that cost the earth after all.

Keeping his own movements slow and cautious, he planted one foot inside then the other. He held his breath and side-stepped, creating as few ripples in the heavy curtains as he possibly could. The moment he emerged from them into the large living room and expelled his breath, however, he froze. That scent. Fucking hell. Fucking hell.

There was a loud click as the safety was thumbed off from a gun. Then a voice barked at him from the doorway. ‘Don’t move.’

Devereau wasn’t planning on it. He remained where he was while one of the armed guards from the auction strode towards him, the muzzle of his handgun raised.

‘You’ve made the biggest mistake of your life, boyo,’ the man said, his face twisting into a snarl.

Actually, Devereau doubted that very much. His evening was already looking up.

‘Put your hands up,’ he ordered.

‘Either,’ Devereau said, ‘you want me to put my hands up or you want me not to move. You can’t have it both ways.’

From the man’s expression, he was quite prepared to put a bullet in Devereau’s skull and smile while doing it.

‘Hands up,’ he repeated.

Devereau did as he was told. ‘I’m clearly not a threat,’ he said. ‘I’m not carrying any weapon and I’m not even wearing any clothes. You’re over-reacting while I stand here shivering to death. I’m shrivelling up from the cold.’ He flicked his eyes down his own body. ‘As you can see for yourself.’

Another voice drifted through from beyond the doorway. ‘Devereau Webb. You’re still a moany bastard.’

Devereau smiled. ‘Hi Scarlett. Fancy meeting you here.’

There was a loud, exasperated sigh and then she stepped into the light. Her dark hair was loose, curling round her shoulders, and she was dressed casually, in a simple tunic and trousers.

‘Let me deal with this, boss,’ the armed guard growled. ‘I’ll make sure you never see this man again.’

‘It’s fine, Simon. I’ve got this.’

‘But –’

Scarlett’s eyes flashed and her voice turned to sharp steel. ‘Get out,’ she ordered.

The guard twitched. Then he did as he was told. Devereau waited until he’d gone before speaking again. ‘He’s no vamp.’

‘How very observant of you,’ Scarlett drawled.

Devereau shrugged. ‘Are you branching out?’

‘No. I’m merely keeping a low profile.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Not low enough, it appears.’

His smile grew and he took a step towards her. Scarlett stayed where she was. ‘You were told not to move.’

He paused, pretending to be a good boy, and watched her.

‘I shouldn’t have to ask you this aloud,’ Scarlett said, ‘but it appears that I’m going to do it anyway. Why have you climbed up the outside of my building and then appeared naked in my living room?’

Devereau took another step towards her. ‘It’s a very ugly building, Scarlett.’ He took one more step.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I know it’s an ugly building,’ she said. ‘I didn’t design it and I don’t own it. It’s part of the vampires’ property portfolio. We own places like this all over the world. Ugly or not, believe me, your dangling balls didn’t make its exterior look any prettier and they’re certainly not enhancing the appearance of this room either.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you quite sure about that?’

She chose to ignore his question. ‘Why did you follow me here?’

‘I didn’t.’

Scarlett sniffed. ‘You don’t seriously expect me to believe that you’re here in this apartment in Rome by accident?’

‘Well,’ he said, with an arch grin, ‘kinda.’ He closed the distance between them. ‘But it is good to see you, Scarlett.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth.

‘Whatever was between us is over, Devereau. We’ve been through this. We had fun for a few weeks. That’s all it was. That’s all it ever was.’

He raised his gaze to meet hers. ‘I’m truly sorry about that,’ he said softly.

‘If you think that stalking me will make me change my mind …’

‘I’m not stalking you,’ he interrupted. ‘In fact, if anyone’s stalking, it’s you. Why were you at Regent’s Park last week?’

‘I wasn’t at Regent’s Park. I was outside it.’

Devereau reached out and brushed an errant curl away from her cheek. He was inordinately pleased that she didn’t pull away but he couldn’t fail to spot the flicker of fearful worry in her gaze. Disturbed by her reaction, he moved back, giving her the space she needed. He also picked up a throw from the back of one of the chairs and wrapped it round his body. ‘Now you’re splitting hairs.’

Scarlett’s mouth tightened. ‘We are done, Devereau.’

Damn it. ‘I won’t argue with you.’ He watched her as she looked down at the floor. Huh. Maybe things between them weren’t quite as clear cut as they seemed. ‘I won’t make any move on you. When you change your mind about us,’ his eyes glittered and he took a painful gamble, ‘and, Scarlett, you will change your mind, you’ll have to approach me yourself.’

‘This lady is not for turning,’ she said in a surprisingly prim tone of voice.

He tried to ignore the bitter surge of disappointment which suddenly flared deep in his chest. ‘Very well.’

Scarlett opened her mouth to say something then seemed to think better of it. ‘How is Martina?’

‘She’s well. Her dad is still an arse. And she could do with a decent female role model in her life.’

Scarlett gave him a long look. ‘She has your sister. And Dr Yara. And Rachel Foster.’

‘None of them are supes,’ Devereau pointed out.

‘I’m a vamp, not a wolf.’

‘Are you suggesting,’ he asked with only the faintest hint of a tease, ‘that werewolves and vampires aren’t capable of mixing?’

‘Maybe,’ Scarlett said quietly, ‘I am.’ She appeared downbeat for a moment. Then she tilted her chin upwards. ‘You’re really not here for me, are you?’

Devereau ran his tongue over his lips. ‘No. I’m not. I genuinely didn’t know you would be here.’

She looked away. Was she disappointed? He couldn’t tell.

‘That can only mean one thing then,’ Scarlett said flatly. ‘You’re here for the ring. You were planning to steal right from under my nose.’

‘Yep.’ He held out his palm.

Scarlett laughed suddenly, genuinely amused. ‘You don’t seriously think I’m just going to hand it over?’

‘All I want to do is borrow it for a few days. You’ll get it back. I promise.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘A few days? It won’t be Winter Solstice for another two weeks.’

Devereau stared at her. ‘Are you talking in code? The eagle flies at midnight. The red fox enjoys the forest.’

She hesitated. ‘Devereau,’ she asked slowly, ‘why exactly do you want the Ring Of All Seasons?’

Er… he’d never actually disclosed to Scarlett that he’d been approached by MI5. ‘There’s a gang,’ he hedged, ‘run by a bloke called Christopher Solentino that I’m trying to infilitrate. He wants the ring and I want him.’

She watched him. ‘Why do you want him?’

‘Because I don’t think he’s a good guy. You remember Dominic Phillips,’ he said quietly, referring to the horrific excuse for a human who’d enslaved Martina and who both he and Scarlett had helped to bring down.

‘This Solentino is like Phillips?’ Scarlett asked darkly.

‘Possibly. I don’t know yet. But Solentino wants the ring so I was planning to steal it and bring it to him as a way to ingratiate myself with him.’

She frowned. ‘Why? Why would you involve yourself with a man such as this?’

He looked away. ‘It’s a long story.’

Scarlett sighed. ‘With you it always is. If he’s such a bad guy and you know where he is, why don’t you bring him down? Why all the cloak and dagger shit?’

‘He’s not working alone. I need to know what his group are planning to do so that I can prevent it from happening. Solentino’s death or imprisonment might not stop whatever’s already in play.’ Devereau paused and met her eyes. ‘Anyway, why do you want the ring? You paid five million euros for it, Scarlett. Five million.’

‘It’s not for me,’ she said absently. ‘It’s not my money. Lord Horvath asked me to procure it.’

‘Why? I saw it at the auction. It’s not pretty and it’s not valuable. Not on the face of it. It’s only a damned moonstone. And what does the Winter Solstice had to do with it?’

Indecision flickered across her face. Then she gave her head a minute shake, apparently coming to a decision. ‘It’s a supe ring,’ she explained finally. ‘Rooted in superstition. Legend says that if you wear it at the stroke of midnight on the night of the Summer Solstice, it will give you images from your past.’

Unease trickled through Devereau. ‘And if you wear it on the Winter Solstice?’

‘It will gift you with images from your future.’ She held up both hands. ‘I’m not saying that’s what really happens but that’s what legend says will happen.’

It sounded barely credible – but Devereau knew from his own experience that stranger things had happened. ‘So Lord Horvath decided that the legend is believable enough to warrant the cost,’ he said.

‘Yes. I was sent here to get the ring and bring it back to London.’

‘Why did you send a proxy to the auction then? Why didn’t you go in person yourself?’

‘Because,’ she answered simply, ‘a lot of supes from all over the world want that ring. It seemed prudent to keep our own interest secret. It makes for an easier life.’ She gave him a quick, hard glare. ‘Or at least it did until you involved yourself anyway.’

‘Solentino is not a supe,’ Devereau told her quietly. ‘But I do have reason to believe he could be a very dangerous man indeed. I think he’s some kind of terrorist whose ultimate agenda is financial rather than ideological. Whoever he is, he needs to be stopped. Lend me the ring. I promise you’ll get it back.’

‘You’re Devereau Webb. You’re more than capable of using your own peculiar charm to worm your way into this Solentino fellow’s inner circle without that ring.’

He put his thumbs into the throw which was wrapped round his waist and posed. ‘You think I’m charming then?’

‘Devereau –’

‘This is the fastest way to get to him, Scarlett. I don’t know what he’s planning or when but it has the potential to be bad.’

She gave him a searching look. Then she briefly closed her eyes. ‘I can’t believe I’m about to do this.’

Relief flooded through him and Devereau smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’d better get it back.’

‘You will.’

‘I mean it.’

‘I promise, Scarlett.’

‘Five million euros isn’t chump change, even to Lord Horvath. If something happens to that ring, it’ll be my head on the block.’

She’d given him the perfect opening he needed without realising it. ‘Well,’ he demurred, ‘there is a simple way to ensure that you get it back and that it’s not damaged in the meantime.’

Scarlett looked at him. Then she began to shake her head. ‘Oh no. Definitely not.’

‘It makes sense. You already told me that you’ve kept your identity hidden. Nobody knows that you’re the one who bought the ring. Not to mention that we worked well together last time. You’ll be helping me to bring down more bad guys and maintaining the sanctity of your Lord’s not inconsiderable investment.’ He smiled. ‘Of course, it’s up to you what you decide to do but the offer is there. Work with me and win the day. It’ll be fun.’ He added a cheesy wink for good measure. Sarah Greensmith would be apoplectic at the thought that he was involving Scarlett but what the MI5 officer didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, this wasn’t just about getting to spend more time with Scarlett. She was clever and strong and resourceful - and they really had been a great team last time they’d joined forces.

She sighed and raised her eyes heavenward. ‘I was planning to spend a few days enjoying the sights of Rome before I headed home, not infiltrating some daft gang and pretending to be some idiotic hero.’

Devereau waved a hand. ‘Okay. It’s your call.’ He could afford to be blasé; he already knew what she was going to say. He could read it in her eyes.

Scarlett muttered to herself. ‘This is about protecting my Lord’s investment.’ She shook her head. ‘Fuck it. Alright. I’ll work with you. Only for a few days, however. Then I’m taking my damned ring from whoever has it and going home to London. Got that?’

Devereau nodded vigorously, trying to keep the elation off his face. ‘Absolutely.’

It was all he could do not to fist pump the air and jump up and down. It had nothing to do with the ring itself. Screw the ring. His delight was because Scarlett was prepared to trust him with it - and they’d be spending more time together in close quarters. For reasons he couldn’t quite articulate to himself, that meant the world.