“I could see that you weren’t getting anywhere with that receptionist, so I went to plan B.”
“You should have run any plans past us first,” Mike chimes in.
“There wasn’t time. I needed to act.” I relay the plan.
Mandy folds her arms. “I doubt it’ll work.”
“Waste of time.” Mike frowns. “The harpy would never fall for it.”
“It will work,” I assure them. I highly doubt that the woman staying in this hotel is the harpy. The Lilith who screwed over my partner and I wouldn’t fall for this envelope trick. If no one comes down, it’ll give me the heads up that it probably is the harpy. Either way, I’ll know. “I need the two of you to sit in one of those lounges closer to the reception. Order coffee.” I try not to sound frustrated. “Lilith Hunter will be down shortly to collect her mail.”
“I swear if you’re wasting our—”
“Please, Mandy. If you don’t hurry, you might miss her.”
“One cup of coffee,” Mike says. “If she hasn’t been down to collect her mail by then, we’ll have to figure something else out.”
“Understood,” I say, irritation clawing at me. I doubt it, but it might take a couple of hours for Lilith to collect the envelope. We need to be here to ID this woman. My plan needs to be given a chance.
Mandy nods once. She doesn’t look happy.
“Oh, and keep an eye on the exits,” I say to their retreating backs.
“Do we look like amateurs?”
I smile brightly in answer.
Mike gives me a dirty look, and then they get back into the elevator. The doors close. I start pacing. I need to keep an eye on the rear exits. If this is a harpy, she might try to run. I find a door at the back with an exit sign. I turn the lock and head out into an alley. There are large, foul-smelling dumpsters and steam pouring out of a pipe. This is either the laundry or the kitchen.
I take my phone out of my pocket to text M and M – I need to let them know I’m here – and notice that there are two unread texts. They’re from him. Lyre. My lip twitches and I feel slightly better. I’m not sure why he insists on messaging me several times a day, especially since I don’t reply, but he does it anyway. He sends arbitrary things. It’s stupid, but I have caught myself checking my phone anyway. I’ve started looking forward to seeing what he has to say. I should have tossed this burner by now. It would solve several problems. One of which is his constant contact with me, but I haven’t. He could still pan out to be a real lead. I fire off a message to M and M. Then I open the texts.
Hi, Miss Stubborn. Hope you are having a good day? Did you know that roughly one million dogs in the US have been named as heirs in their owners’ wills? I know, I was shocked too.
I choke out a laugh. It’s stupid! I read the second text, which came through fifteen minutes after the first
No answer… Still living up to your name, I see. Oh well! I guess it is what it is. I’m nothing if not tenacious. I have a busy day lined up, so you won’t hear from me until later…maybe even tomorrow. Let me know when you’re ready to meet in person. Have a good day!
My brows go up. It’s the first time he’s suggested meeting with me in all the weeks he’s been texting. He hasn’t asked me about Lilith either. He’s kept everything light-hearted and… fun. Having said that, we both know why he keeps messaging me. It isn’t to make friends with me. It isn’t to brighten my day, even though he’s done a good job of that on most of them, even if it was just for a few seconds. This guy, Lyre, if that’s even his real name, wants information on Lilith. He’s also a liar, and I hate those.
Me: Hi Mr. Pushy! I’ll meet you when you have something to say. Something real. Something factual.
Him: Everything I’ve said has been factual and real.
Me: Factual, real, and useless. One million dog heirs. It was a 9-foot, 100-year-old turtle yesterday and the 1000-gallon inflatable pool that was stolen without a drop of water being spilled, the day before. I know what you’ve been eating and some of the shit you’ve been doing. I’m sorry to say, but it hasn’t been very helpful. Give me something I can actually use.
Him: I’m glad you’re paying such close attention I have lots to say that you can actually use, Miss Stubborn.
Me: Prove it! Right now!
Him: Who’s being pushy now? I’m not giving you anything telephonically. Meet with me.
Me: Not interested! Stop texting me. Either give me something, and we’ll meet…or get lost.
I’m not meeting with some asshole just because he insists he has information. It would most likely be a colossal waste of my time. More importantly, it could be another trap. I hold my breath, staring at my phone.
Him: No can do, Miss Stubborn, I’m pushy, remember?
I try not to smile and fail. I stuff my phone back in my pocket and focus on monitoring the exits.
Lyre
I stare at my phone for a good half a minute before putting it down on the table.
I should have given up on the mystery woman a long time ago. The problem is that we’ve hit a dead end. I have no idea where Gabby is, or what she is, or why she took my power. All I have is this woman. Miss Stubborn. I feel my lip twitch. She finally answered one of my messages. She was just as short as the first time we spoke. I look down at my device; I itch to call her. To try to talk her into meeting me. The problem is that I would have nothing to say to her. Nothing real or true. How would I lead the conversation?
‘Gabby or Lilith, or whatever her name is, stole my powers. Yes, you heard correctly. I’m not human. I’m a dragon demigod. My father is Apollo. I know it’s hard to swallow, but it’s all true, I swear. Gabby stole my power, and I need to find her so that I can get it back. Do you want to work together?’
Yeah…no! It wouldn’t be well received. I might end up in the looney bin. She would block my number and never speak to me again.
I need to keep chipping away at her. I feel like I am getting somewhere. One of these days she’s going to come around. I’ll find out what she knows, and hopefully, it will lead somewhere. One thing is certain, she definitely knows something.
“I’d love to know who you just texted,” Jarrod says, smirking. “You went from smiling to seriously frowning and all in the space of a couple of minutes. Plus, you’re letting your food get cold.” He looks down at my half-eaten omelet. “Although, I probably wouldn’t eat that either. An omelet made with only egg whites?” He makes this face and then picks up a piece of bacon and stuffs it into his mouth, making a noise of enjoyment.
“My omelet is healthy,” I throw back, glad the conversation has moved on.
“I’m guessing it’s a woman,” Stephan smirks, glancing down at my phone.
They won’t let it go! Of course not, that would have been too easy. “It’s not!” I answer immediately. “I mean, it is, but it’s not like that.”