Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 15: Down the Mountain

"Of course not, sir." Struggling to keep my feelings out of my voice, I grip my hands tighter in my lap.

"Mr. Fernsby, I appreciate your concerns." It’s a monumental effort to maintain my professional demeanor. "While I cannot breach client confidentiality, I can assure you that our clients are all alive and well. We take great pride in our work and the safety of those we protect.f"

His eyes narrow, skepticism etched into every line of his face. I press on, determined to get to the bottom of this.

"If I may ask, how did you come by this information? Our client list and upgrade details are strictly confidential, for everyone’s safety."

Mr. Fernsby’s cool eyes bore into mine. "I have my sources, Ms. d’Armand. Surely you understand the importance of keeping one’s ear to the ground in our... unique community."

"Of course." I nod, mind racing. Something doesn’t add up. "And these sources, they specifically mentioned recent upgrades through our company?"

"Indeed, they did." He reaches into a drawer, pulling out a thin file. "I have acquired records of three separate installations. All three clients are now deceased."

My stomach churns.

"Mr. Fernsby, I don’t mean to question your sources, but there must be some misunderstanding. May I see those records?"

He slides the file across the desk. With steady hands that belie my inner turmoil, I open it. Names, dates, installation details from this year—all laid out in black and white.

The paper’s right.

The letterhead’s right.

Down to every detail, it looks legitimate.

But—

I look at the names and addresses again.

Something’s off.

I close the file, my mind whirring with questions. "Mr. Fernsby, would it be possible for me to take a copy of these files? I’d like to look into this matter more thoroughly."

He gestures toward the folder. "That is the copy, Ms. d’Armand. You’re welcome to take it with you."

"Thank you." Standing, I tuck the file under my arm. "I appreciate your bringing this to my attention. I’m afraid there’s little I can do here today until I’ve looked further into your concerns."

Mr. Fernsby rises, extending his hand. As I shake it, his grip is firm, almost uncomfortably so. "Of course. I understand the need for discretion in these matters."

A faint smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "Tell me, Ms. d’Armand, do you think you can accomplish more than the SED’s investigative team?"

How does he expect a simple anti-magic security analyst to compete with an entire division for supernatural enforcement?

But still, this is involving my company, so I smile. "Mr. Fernsby, I assure you that I take this matter very seriously. Our clients’ satisfaction is our guarantee. I’ll personally look into these incidents and get back to you as soon as possible."

He nods, releasing my hand. "I look forward to hearing from you, Ms. d’Armand. Sooner rather than later, I hope."

"Of course." I force a smile. "I’ll be in touch."

Jasper materializes at my elbow, ready to escort me out. As we walk through the cavernous halls, my mind races. How did Fernsby get his hands on our confidential client information?

The cool air outside is a relief after the stifling atmosphere of Fernsby’s office. I fumble for my keys, eager to get back to the office and start digging.

"Ms. d’Armand?"

I turn. Jasper stands in the doorway, his face impassive.

"Yes?"

"Drive safely."

There’s something in his tone that makes me pause. Before I can decipher it, he’s gone, the heavy door closing behind him.

* * *

Driving back down the mountain at night is a white-knuckle experience.

No lights. Only shadows, cliffsides without guardrails, and imminent death taunting me at each curve in the road.

I don’t care how amazing of a client Fernsby is. I’m never coming back here this late. Ever. Again.

Offering up another prayer and plea for my life as I brake for yet another sharp curve, I wonder how many people have died on this narrow mountain road. Seriously. They should probably sue the Fernsbys. They have enough money to raze the mountain to the ground and create a goddamn resort. Fixing the road should be little more than a toddler’s allowance for them.

A shadow of movement flashes across my headlights. My foot slams the brake pedal before my brain can process what’s happening.

"Shit!" The car skids, tires screeching, but I regain control a few heart-pounding moments later, barely inching along at . "Damn. If I run into a deer, the company better foot the bill." But what the fuck runs across the highway and over a damn cliff?

"Dodo birds are extinct and deers can’t fly—"

The words barely leave my lips when something massive crashes into the side of my sedan. Metal crunches. Glass shatters. My world spins.

I brace for impact, arms rigid against the steering wheel. The sickening screech of metal on stone fills my ears as entire fucking mountain slams into my tiny red sedan. Airbags explode in a cloud of powder and fabric.

For a moment, all I hear is my own ragged breathing and the tick-tick-tick of the cooling engine. It’s an effort to peel my trembling hands off the wheel.

I’m facing the wrong way and half of my car is cuddling the damn bluff, but at least I’m not down a cliff and dead.

"Fuck." I pat myself down, checking for injuries. Nothing major, just bruises and scrapes from the airbag. Blood’s trickling down the side of my face, but I don’t remember hitting my head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Relief floods through me. It could’ve been so much worse.

"Goddamn it, Jasper." I spit out the words, tasting blood from where I bit my cheek. "Drive safe, my ass. Thanks for the jinx, asshole."

But what the fuck hit my damn car? There’s nothing on the passenger side of the road as you drive back down the mountain; only the edge of the cliff and sky, and the forest far below.

There’s no bird large enough to do this kind of damage.

I need light. Fumbling with my still-shaking hands, I pop open the glove compartment, closing my fingers around a familiar metal cylinder.

Click.

A beam of light powered with AA batteries cuts through the darkness, illuminating a spider web of cracks across the windshield. Beyond that, nothing but inky blackness, because it reflects back into my face.

Damn. I have to go outside, but I don’t want to. Because if nothing normal could have hit my car, it can only be something supernatural.

My mind’s failing on what that supernatural thing could be, though.

I try the door. It groans in protest but gives way after a solid shove with my shoulder. The night air hits me like a slap, crisp and clean, with a hint of burning rubber.

"Hello?" My voice echoes off the mountainside. "Is anyone there?"

Smart. Make a lot of noise, maybe it’ll come back for you.

I’m a dumbass. Jesus. And people hire me for security.

Thankfully, there’s silence. Not even crickets chirping.

The hood is surprisingly intact, except where the passenger side is snug up against the towering bluffside. Can’t see the state of my tire.

Looks like the back end isn’t quite cuddling the stone, but the beam catches something near the trunk. A massive shadow, darker than the night around it.

Curiosity—or maybe just sheer stupidity—propels me into circling to the other side of my car, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. The flashlight beam dances erratically, betraying the tremor in my hand.

"Holy shit."