Death & Desire: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 2)

by Deborah Wilde

  I half-closed my eyes, braced to start losing body parts or black out, but nothing happened. I just stood there, hands balled up at my sides, waiting for the ax to fall.

  A stunned hush fell over the market. The hairdresser’s phone clattered to the cement.

  “She is not ours to take.” The twin’s voice was rusty.

  The dentist cursed, denied a good show.

  “Why not?” I planted my hands on my hips. “I mean, yay, no death, but why am I different?” Again with the special snowflake status. What made me different as a Jezebel?

  “You have a destiny,” the twin said, plucking the shot glass away. “It is not for us to interfere in that.”

  “Fucking hell.” I stomped my foot. “This is the Dream Market and I have a perfectly fine dream. Not any stupid destiny.”

  The twin blinked impassively, then pivoted sharply and walked back to the bar.

  A train whistle sounded in the distance. The ground rumbled as the train drew closer and closer with a terrifying speed, its headlamps growing blindly bright.

  Very calmly, everyone moved the bits and pieces of their stalls inches back from the tracks. Chairs and the bar were rolled out of the way, the table with the wheel lifted to safety. They cleared the rail in minutes.

  Closer and closer the train came, while I was frozen like a proverbial deer. The old woman nudged me back, a frown creasing her already wrinkled face.

  The train blew through on a cloud of hot, stagnant heat, fanning my hair back from my face. If I leaned forward, I’d have touched the blacked out windows with my nose.

  It gave a shrill blast, then was gone as quickly as it had come, disappearing around a bend.

  “It didn’t take you.” The redhead nodded at the twin who’d served me. “They were right.” She patted a few loose strands back into her hairdo. “Exciting night, dearie. You’re free to go.”

  This time the bronze token worked without incident. I was back at Moriarty, no worse for wear, unless you counted my lack of direction, constant questioning of what was really in my control in my life, and a nice new desire to smash things.

  I’d seen movies. When you refused the call of destiny, it punched you in the throat until you cried “uncle.” The biggest irony here was that if I had a heart’s desire, it was for free will in my Jezebel future.

  I texted Arkady, asking if he was free to train right now. He replied that he was at House HQ working but could take an hour break and to meet at the gym on the seventh floor.

  Me: If you can assure me that both Levi and Veronica will be in attendance and throw in a colonoscopy without anesthetic, I’d be delighted to meet there.

  Arkady: Entirely the wrong use of ass, pickle. See you soon.

  After swinging by the office to pick up my back-up Taser and lock the feather in the safe, I drove home to change into workout clothes and grab a snack and then went to meet Arkady.

  I skulked through the hallway to the employee gym. Arkady waited outside the door, still wearing his “Let Me Be Perfectly Queer” T-shirt. I was impressed with how comfortable he was. He didn’t hide his identity from anyone. That’s how I wished to live. Free and true. How I would live as soon as my magic was on the books.

  “Not to abandon you, but I have to make a call.” He swiped his card in the scanner and the door clicked open. “Be back in five. Meantime, feel free to warm up. Make sure you stretch your hamstrings.”

  Voices drifted into the hall and, not wanting to interrupt any actual employees working out, I hid behind the door and peeked in.

  Miles and Levi were sparring in the middle of the gym. Both were stripped down to loose board shorts, their chests gleaming with sweat, and their feet bare. Miles’ technique involved a constant assessment and a steady and methodical assault on his opponent. With his bodybuilder frame, he outmatched Levi in power, and while he landed a fair number of kicks and punches, it was like watching a bear wrestle a plume of water.

  Levi’s punches didn’t knock Miles back as hard and he failed to gain much ground in moving his very solid friend, but he was in constant motion, balanced on the balls of his feet with a lithe grace and deceptively lazy movements that turned whip fast in the blink of an eye.

  So much about Levi was a calculated illusion, from his magic to his suits that presented a mask to the world. This was Levi unguarded, a man that very few of us got to see, and I suspected, that I’d been privy to in ways he’d always kept hidden. It wasn’t just the scars he’d shown me, it was how he’d allowed me to literally wear his face during that smudge fight in front of the cameras and the crowds, knowing that he couldn’t control me, that he had to trust me.

  I leaned in, mouth slightly open.

  “You’re telegraphing with your left hip.” Miles jumped the leg that Levi swung out and pushed on Levi’s shoulder.

  Levi hit the mat and winced, stretching out a hand for Miles to help him up.

  Miles grabbed it, and Levi gripped his forearm with his other hand, pulling Miles into some kind of roll and straddling him.

  “Tap out.” Levi’s hair hung forward over his eyes.

  Miles flung him off. “You had a good week when we were twelve. Haven’t pinned me since, but optimistic of you to keep trying and recapture that dream.”

  Levi laughed and jumped up, catching his shorts with one hand as they slid, exposing the glistening olive skin along the ridge of his hipbone.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

  I jumped at Arkady’s voice. “I wasn’t–” I stammered.

  He wasn’t even looking at me. “No seriously, take a picture. I left my phone back at my desk and that would break the Internet.”

  Miles stretched up to grab his T-shirt hanging off a set of bars mounted to the wall, causing his back muscles to ripple, while Levi bent over to pick up a towel and rub himself off.

  “Perv time is over.” Arkady brushed past me into the gym, catching the attention of the other two men.

  Miles grimaced. “Gym privileges are restricted to full-time employees, not random freelancers.”

  Arkady chucked him under the chin. “Ah, Mimi, don’t be that way. Ash is an asset to the House and we need to keep her in tip-top fighting shape.”

  “Mimi.” I tested out my new favorite word.

  “Call me that and I’ll break you in half, Cohen.” Miles snapped his T-shirt at Arkady, catching him in the ribs. “And you, quit running your mouth.”

  Arkady batted his lashes. “You love it when I run my mouth.”

  “Only situationally.” Miles shrugged into his shirt.

  Speaking of mouths, mine was hanging open because was Miles flirting with Arkady? What did this mean for my Priya plan? More importantly, what did this mean for my entertainment factor?

  I spun around, like a handy tour guide to this bizarroland might be standing behind me, and instead collided with Levi’s chest. I stepped back, rubbing my nose. “Geez, wear a bell.”

  All traces of the easy manner and laughter he’d shown with Miles were gone. Even in nothing but shorts with a towel draped over one shoulder, he oozed haughtiness.

  I narrowed my eyes. I could break that iron control of his and not even need my magic. I wanted to be the only one allowed to see his secret self, to ruin him for others. The ferocity of that desire overwhelmed and terrified me. I didn’t lose control. Not since I’d stolen my mother’s car and paid a horrible price.

  Wild, reckless energy bounced around inside me. I tracked a drop of sweat that snaked down the ridges of his chest, wanting to do something unpredictable to throw destiny a curveball.

  What’s your most satisfying relationship?

  My eyes slammed to the ocean of wintry blue looking down on me. No, Levi satisfying me came in one flavor: sex.

  He’d inserted himself every step of the way on this Jezebel journey. Bound himself up in this, yet another variable taking control away from me, and if he left me in registration limbo, I’d never work Nefesh jobs. My future was partia
lly in the hands of a man I didn’t trust, couldn’t predict, and often failed to understand.

  Time to punch things.

  I brushed past Levi, but he placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Did you still want to speak to my alibi for the other night?” he said.

  Right. The mystery woman.

  “That’s no longer necessary.” I stepped sideways, the hot flush staining my cheeks incinerating all foolish thoughts of a moment ago.

  “Give us a moment,” he said to the other two.

  Miles scowled, but heaven forbid he disobey His Lordship. He dragged Arkady to the exit.

  “Wait, you can’t leave her with him,” Arkady said, twisting around to look over his shoulder. “He’s holding her hostage.”

  “Save me from Stockholm Syndrome, Arkady! I might start thinking Levi’s a reasonable human being.”

  “I didn’t sign up for two of you.” The slam of the door punctuated Miles’ words.

  “If you wish to speak to my alibi,” Levi said, “I’ll phone her right now.”

  “Like I said, no need. Really.” Please do not push this point. “You’re off the hook. And besides, this is training time. Not sleuthing time.”

  Levi narrowed his eyes and I tensed under his scrutiny, but he gave a nod and let the matter drop. “Arkady is training you?”

  “Are we playing ‘state the obvious?’ Then, yes, because your attention span on that front lasted all of one session. Your turn.”

  “Why don’t you need my alibi?” he said.

  The topic was supposed to be closed, you big jerk. “You’re off my suspect list.”

  Levi stepped closer to me. “What, exactly, was I suspected of?”

  I jutted my chin up. “Attempted murder.”

  The gym around me wavered, then spun and spiraled in on me. The only stationary thing, starkly clear in this nauseous claustrophobic mess, was Levi, face pinched with anger and pain.

  The illusion stopped, Levi once more in control.

  “You used your magic on me?” I dropped the blood dagger that I’d manifested during that ordeal and took a deep breath. His scotch and chocolate scent filled my nostrils, but this time it wasn’t intoxicating, it was cloying. “In case I wasn’t clear the last time you pulled that stunt,” I said icily, “don’t ever do that again or I’ll show you what I’m capable of.”

  He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Trust me, I know.”

  Something about the way he said it made me think he wasn’t referring to my magic. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You always want to prove how smart you are, and yet after all this time, you know nothing where I’m concerned,” he said. “You should have put your brilliant deduction skills to work and trusted my character.”

  “The way you trusted mine when you kept accusing me of being a Rogue?”

  “That was different.” Levi crossed the gym to a small duffel bag and pulled out a sweatshirt that he yanked over his head. “Based on all known understanding of magic, you’d hidden yours.”

  “Based on what I knew of this case, you were the only illusionist around powerful enough to pull off the attack. Multiple people claimed to see an Angel of Death descend from the heavens and attack a dude, and I only know one jerk with the kind of magic that can fool crowds and cameras. I’d have been a fool not to put you on the suspect list.”

  “What was my motive?”

  I hedged my words. “There was a tentative connection with your father.”

  There were no terrifying illusions this time. No walls rushed in on me, gravity remained completely normal. Levi was utterly still, a beautiful statue carved from granite. And that would be all you’d see, unless you’d known him enough to know his tells, to pick up on, just for a second, his eyes flashing something not unlike hurt.

  Levi picked up his bag and I spoke my next words to his back. “I’m sorry for thinking that you’d strike back at him in that manner.”

  “You thought this attempted murder was in retaliation for something Isaac had done to me?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  He prowled toward me. “No, Ash. You said there was a connection to him.”

  “Huh? Ew. No. I didn’t think you were working on his behalf.”

  “Good to know I have standards. Low bar though, don’t you think?”

  “I was doing my job. How about you run along and do yours?”

  He saluted me, the bag hefted on his shoulder, but as he passed he briefly caught my hand. “What took me off the list?” He ran his other hand over his jaw that showed a faint dusting of dark scruff, his eyes trained on me.

  “A feather from a set of costume wings.”

  “Ah, yes. My views on the use of props while committing murder are rather well known.” He snorted and dropped my hand.

  “The attacker hit me, okay?” I stepped back. “You insult me, you annoy me, you push every single one of my buttons, and lose the smirk, Leviticus, I don’t mean that in a good way. But you’d never physically hurt me. Or maybe I’m just good at my job and know that you’d never lose your precious control in that manner.”

  Levi went quiet. After a moment, he opened his mouth, then caught himself and shook his head. “There were no matches off the prints in the apartment.”

  Was that an apology? An olive branch? Or simply a statement of fact?

  Arkady threw the door open. “Forty-five minutes left on my break. Pickle, start running laps. Levi, go away.”

  “It’s my gym.”

  Arkady threw him a “so?” look. Levi huffed a laugh and left.

  Damn Levi for fucking with my reality so easily. How could I even sift through our layers when the ground kept shifting beneath my feet?

  “Bossy men are the worst,” Arkady said.

  “Agreed.” I started with an easy jog. “Is Miles your boss or what? Don’t you work for Levi directly on some covert team?”

  “Levi uses people as needed.”

  “Doesn’t he just?”

  “Meaning…” Arkady gave me the stink eye at dissing his hero. “Miles as Chief of Security for all House matters is my boss, but he coordinates with Levi for operations that Levi directly wants to oversee. Which doesn’t happen often. Now, enough chitchat. Run like the hounds of Hell are on your tail. And pick up your feet. You’re not a zombie.”

  Bossy men were the worst. I ran.

  Chapter 14

  The training session was light on punching and kicking, but getting out of all of Arkady’s holds drained the razor sharp curl off my reckless mood enough to keep a civil tongue when I showed up at the cocktail party that Talia had bargained me into. Part of me wanted to bail, but I was determined to connect with my mother, even if it meant associating with the Untainted Party in a way that I vehemently disagreed with.

  The small hotel ballroom was beige and bland with appetizers to match. Though if bigotry was a spice, we’d have had a hell of a zesty party.

  I plucked at the sleeve of my cream pantsuit with the brass buttons that was Talia-approved and relieved me of the stress of what to wear for all those yachting dates in my future. The fabric itched and I’d had to quickly abandon the drinking game I played with myself, where I took a sip of overly dry red wine for each insult hurled at Nefesh, or risk alcohol poisoning.

  Talia supervised me for a while then cut me loose to continue working the room on my own as the dutiful daughter here to support her, while she stayed with some old dame in a satin turban spewing forth on how “the magics” were lowering her property values.

  Other than the fact that my city had more magic-haters happy to legally have Nefesh under their thumbs than I’d realized, and were willing to throw a lot of money behind this, I failed to learn anything important or useful. The party’s legislation was still in draft form, and this meet and greet was one of many to suss out public input.

  I made small talk for a couple of hours about how proud I was of Talia, while perfecting my use of noncommittal n
oises about how vital this bill would be to the well-being of our society. I didn’t even stab anyone.

  When I’d reached my limit, I did a last tour of the room, battle weary and searching for Talia. My circuit took me past a couple of businessmen, whom I glanced at in passing. My jaw clenched, because despite the short hair and lighter eyes, one of them was Arkady.

  Even if I hadn’t been at the top of my game, I’d have known it was him because I’d just spent an hour escaping his holds.

  He didn’t betray a flicker of recognition, but it was him in a wig and contacts. My magic surged under the surface of my skin, my fingers tightening on the stem of my wine glass as I fought to keep from detonating in the middle of this Nefesh-hating crowd.

  My suspicions that Levi used him to keep tabs on me deepened. Did he not trust me where Talia was concerned? Did he think I’d pick her over the safety of the Nefesh, especially as I was one?

  He and I were in for a reckoning.

  I got myself under control and, setting my glass on a table, found Talia in order to arrange another meeting between us where I’d demonstrate my magic.

  She’d schmoozed her way to the back corner, a shark in a navy silk dress and seven-hundred-dollar pearl earrings.

  “Sorry to intrude, Mother. I’m leaving.” Never calling Talia by her first name in public–one of our endless negotiations.

  “Ashira, isn’t it?” a man said in a strong Italian accent. “I believe you went to camp with my son.”

  I turned a polite smile on the speaker, then almost swallowed my tongue, because the person before me was Levi in thirty years. A handsome man with a winning smile, he was the last person you’d suspect of physically harming his child, but I’d seen the scars. I’d seen how Levi carried himself to conceal them or illusioned them away, how he’d startled when I’d felt them under my fingertips the first time. How he’d honed his own power so he’d be able to make them disappear longer. Now here Isaac was openly throwing his support against the Nefesh community that his son led.

  Levi was wrong. We weren’t the monsters.

  On the other side of the room, Arkady had perfected the art of surveilling without appearing to be watching. It was all in the angle of the body and the tilt of the head allowing for slightly more peripheral vision.