Priceless by Shannon Mayer Read Free Book Online

Underneath, there were packages of herbs and poultices, again prepared by Milly, to use on everything from burns, cuts and broken bones to head injuries. With everything accounted for and my blade underneath my jacket and securely in place, I went to check in.
    The desk clerk nodded at me as I walked in, his battered cowboy hat pulled low over his ears and a few stray grey hairs sticking out at the edges. John had checked me in here more than once.
    “Find any kids today, Ry?” He was also the only person I let get away with shortening my name; he was, after all, in his eighties and I figured he’d earned his right to say whatever he wanted to at his age.
    “Nope, not today. Kissed an FBI agent, though. That was kind of fun.” I winked at him and he smiled back at me. It was a routine game between us. I told him the truth and he thought I was funning him.
    “Did you make him blush?”
    I scooped my room key off the counter. “Come on, John, you know a lady’s not supposed to kiss and tell. Then again, I’m not much of a lady, so yes, I made him blush and his partner too. Too hot to handle—you should know that about me by now, John.”
    He guffawed and said, “Off with you now, girl. I swear, an FBI agent?”
    I stepped back out into the quickly cooling night air and walked down to my unit. Number thirteen. I liked it, and it was the one everybody else avoided so I didn’t have to worry about how many people had left their little nasty bits behind in the communal bed. Gross, I know, but something to think about next time you stay in a hotel.
    It was still early, so I sat down at the small but real wooden desk, pulled out a pen and paper, and began to write down what I knew so far. At the top of the page I put India’s name, age, hair and eye colour, suspected abilities, and quirks her parents told me about. I had nothing else to speculate on except what groups could possibly want her and her abilities as a spirit seeker. That had been my first inclination when I saw the pictures—someone who could commune with the dead with great ease and for whom the dead held a great affection. Like someone who was good with animals, spirit seekers rarely had to actually seek out spirits; the dead came to them, flocked to them in droves, desperate to be heard and remembered. There were times that it was a temporary phenomenon. Children had been known to grow out of their abilities as they hit puberty. But those who didn’t were powerful and very, very rare.
    I scrubbed my hands back through my hair and laid my head on the desk, on the paper with all of India’s stats. “Where are you kid?” She didn’t answer, not that I really expected her to. I hated the fact that I couldn’t track a child on the other side of the veil. My stomach growled suddenly, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Leaving off with the list making, I headed out for something to stave off starvation.
    There were no pizza joints out this way, or any other type of foods that could be delivered, so I settled for gas station gourmet. A bag of chips, two pepperoni sticks and small carton of milk. Carbs, protein and dairy, a nice balanced meal. The night air felt good, cleansing, with the constant wind that was just a part of the landscape, and I found myself walking away from the hotel, taking a side street into the nearest suburbs.
    I walked for over an hour, my growling stomach and the food in my bag forgotten as my mind tried to work through what I was facing. If I wasn’t on a salvage, I’d be doing everything I could to find out more about the Arcane division of the FBI. How much did they know about the supernatural world, and was any of it true? But more than that, did they even have an inkling of how ugly it would get if the big, bad, uglies of the supernatural world felt threatened? It would be one giant clusterfuck if word got out about this new FBI division. It was a weight on me that only added to my concern over India. Distraction