Dark Vessel: An Urban Fantasy Series (Meredith Bale Book 3) by DC Malone

Author:DC Malone [Malone, DC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2021-07-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

I was officially a kidnapper. Kidnaptress? Nah, probably should keep it as basic as possible—this wasn’t a field I planned to continue in, nor one for which I wanted a custom title.

For the better part of three days and three nights I had babysat my hostage, and high-ranking detective with the NAPD, in my apartment while I waited to see what Hiram might dig up with those monks of his and considered my next move. And after nearly seventy-two hours cooped up with an irritatingly reasonable man who claimed to no longer be under the influence of any outside forces, I knew precisely what my next move was going to be.

I needed to get my boots back out onto the pavement. I needed to do anything other than stare at Carter and his passively bemused face for even one more hour. If good ol’ Lechbaalmet showed up and invited me for a night out on the town, followed by a rousing time of bowling in the underworld, I’d have been hard-pressed to turn the fella down.

Thankfully, I didn’t need a good-times-seeking demon to get me out of my apartment-cum-prison. All I needed was a willing and able babysitter. And I had a perfectly able friend who would be completely up to the task. The willing part of the equation was a little iffy, but I’d cross that bridge when she was already fully caught in my snare.

“Almost food time,” I said, startling Carter awake.

It was just after seven in the evening, and I’d spent the entire day up to that point watching Carter watch a marathon of true crime stories on television. I didn’t watch much television myself, and I hadn’t even had one hooked up before Carter’s stay. But I did own a tiny set that I had previously kept on the floor of my closet, just in case the couch potato bug ever bit me. I was able to get the thing to spew out a wealth of news and reality shows just from its built-in antenna. Oh, the wonders of technology.

It was that set that Carter now watched, and periodically dozed in front of, from his perch on my futon. His hands were cuffed—using his very own handcuffs that I found in his car—and the cuffs were connected to the radiator that sat along the wall beside the futon. The setup allowed Carter enough leeway to travel from the futon to the bathroom, which saved me from any embarrassing handholding, and allowed Carter some measure of dignity. Though, to my mind, some of his bathroom tasks seemed like they would be rather difficult in his bound state. But I didn’t ask, and Carter didn’t complain.

“Oh goodie, my favorite part of the day,” Carter said with a yawn. “Are you treating me to Sason’s again?”

He tried to sound cheerful about the prospect, but I could hear a hint of gastronomical fatigue in his voice. It wasn’t that the Middle Eastern food prepared one floor below us in

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