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

by Deborah Wilde

  Ew. That sounded like the premise of a cheesy Hollywood romance.

  “I don’t feel any bond,” I said. “Could that ward be the reason why we don’t have this connection you spoke of?”

  He stared into the depths of his wine, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I suspect it is. Regardless, we don’t have it and that fact fueled my previous conviction that you shouldn’t be a Jezebel.”

  That longer conversation needed to include a thorough inventory of what I should and should not be able to do.

  I drained my Coke. “This complicates things, doesn’t it?”

  “Everything about you complicates things.”

  “You’re not the first person to say that.” Rafael and Levi could never meet. “Where was this location-sensing bond of yours when Gavriella was taken? Why didn’t you rescue her?”

  Rafael toyed with the stem of his glass. “Gavriella spiraled after my father’s death. She numbed herself with drugs.”

  “The Blank.”

  His hand stilled. “You know about that?”

  “Assume I am a phenomenal Seeker and save yourself constantly asking that question and boring me with repetition. Blank kills the cravings and the magic.”

  “It also killed our connection. Chariot captured her and forced her off the drug. Her magic returned, but they had her so heavily doped up that between the damage that the Blank had done to our connection and the powerful sedatives, I couldn’t find her. Only sense her…” His eyes clouded over. “Distress.” He shot me a brittle smile. “Quite wretched actually, to be that helpless when one’s life work is to serve and protect. And yet, I find myself in the same situation with you.”

  “Trust me, Rafael, our situation is nothing like that one. You’re not my house elf. Though if you do laundry…”

  “I do not.”

  “Can’t blame a chick for asking. This is going to be far more of an equal working relationship.” I held out my fist and Rafael tapped his knuckles against mine with the look of someone who feared they’d made a pact with the devil. “Welcome to Team Jezebel.”

  Getting me up to speed required clearing my schedule for a while, which couldn’t happen until I’d discharged my duties to the Queen. Rafael planned to return home to London and pack up his things to move to Vancouver, at which point we’d meet in earnest and hammer out our next steps.

  I was cautiously excited about this plan. I’d accepted the Mantle, so my P.I. dreams were riding on my ability to implement it.

  My original reason for meeting with Talia, the loan, was no longer necessary. I could have cancelled, but I needed closure, even if the thought of not having her in my life gave me a stomach ache.

  I dragged my feet up the stairs to the atrium at the Law Courts downtown.

  The large open space with its polished concrete floor, generous amounts of greenery, and tons of light from the multistoried sloped glass roof that ran the length of the space, was packed with Mundane business leaders, there to hear Jackson Wu push his anti-Nefesh agenda.

  An aide directed me to Talia, who stood at the back, nodding along with the party leader, as if mentally crossing off each talking point.

  “It’s almost over,” she said.

  Jackson’s speech was cleverly written and he delivered it with conviction and gravitas. He didn’t preach outright hate, but instead enumerated sound financial and social reasons for dissolving House Pacifica and bringing Nefesh under Mundane control. It was a persuasive argument that played to the crowd, and when he finished, he received loud and enthusiastic applause.

  “Come.” Talia caught me by the elbow. “There’s a small chamber where we can have some privacy.” She tugged me through the crowd.

  Jackson was still up on the low makeshift stage, a line of business leaders waiting to speak with him. He conversed with a woman who, from her hand gestures, and the way she turned her body, was introducing him to the man beside her. As they shook hands, the man moved into profile and I stiffened.

  It was a slender man dressed in an expensive business suit–the German who’d killed Yitzak.

  All noise flattened out to static and my peripheral vision narrowed to pinpricks. I broke free of Talia’s grasp, took a couple of steps and stopped.

  My mother placed her hand on my forehead. “You’re cold as ice.”

  “Who’s the man talking to Jackson?”

  “Your party leader gives a good speech.” Leah Richards, a reporter with shark-like instincts who I’d encountered while illusioned as Levi, stepped in front of Talia and thrust a microphone into her face. I edged out of camera range. “How far away would you say this legislation is from being put before Parliament?” she said.

  I rose onto my tiptoes to keep the German in sight while Talia deflected from actually saying anything concrete and Leah pressed her for more.

  Jackson said something that made the woman laugh and the German gave a tight-lipped smile.

  The crowd shifted, blocking my view for a second, but by the time my line of sight was restored, the German and his companion were gone, and Jackson was speaking to a group of South Asian business leaders.

  Leah moved on to other quarry and Talia returned her attention to me. “Which man?”

  “He’s gone. He was with some blonde woman in a black dress.”

  Talia spread her hands, indicating the many who fit that description. “If it’s important, we could go over and ask Jackson.”

  My hands balled into fists. No, we couldn’t, because even though I didn’t think that Jackson was part of Chariot, I had no idea who in this room was. They lived in the shadows, and I’d have to as well. Whatever Chariot was involved in, I was the only one who could stop them and that meant acting like a fox, not a wrecking ball.

  If Jezebels were the only Nefesh who weren’t born with magic, but had it triggered, then registering even my enhanced strength with the explanation that it had turned on after the crash was too much of a risk. Should anyone involved in Chariot find out, they’d immediately be suspicious and Talia was too public a person for my Nefesh registration to fall quietly under the radar.

  “Ashira? The loan?”

  Mind reeling at this turn of events, I docilely followed her into a small chamber. When she shut the door, the silence was as stifling as being wrapped in cotton batting.

  She clearly expected me to say something, but what? I couldn’t tell her about being a Jezebel as I’d planned. I couldn’t tell anyone and I certainly couldn’t register as Nefesh. Had I fucked up by accepting the Mantle?

  No, I didn’t regret my choice, because there was still a way forward. It wasn’t what I would have ever chosen for myself, and it involved trusting my dream to someone else, but I wanted to believe we could make it work.

  I’d been wrong in thinking that since magic was out in the open, anyone who was top of the food chain would declare themselves. Chariot had brought magic into this world and, in one way or another, had been attempting to control it ever since. That made them incredibly powerful, but they kept to the shadows. The only ones who could virtually defeat them, Jezebels, had to keep to the shadows, too.

  I could still be Sherlock, I just had to reconcile living a public persona that was a total fabrication while not unconsciously exposing myself through some tiny detail.

  That challenge was kind of cool.

  My mother’s brow furrowed. “You needed a loan?”

  “Right. I did, but not anymore. I was offered an ongoing contract with an insurance company,” I improvised. “A Mundane company.”

  Talia lay her hand on my cheek. I yearned for the contact and the assurance that I would still have her in my life, as much as I grieved that she’d never accept the Nefesh part of me. “That sounds like a wise choice,” she said. “What’s the job?”

  “They want someone to investigate fraudulent claims. It’s a good pay bump and great benefits.”

  “What about Cohen Investigations?”

  “I’ll still have it, just with a
n exclusive client and a sure way of making rent every month. I’m tired of struggling. The fact that I had to ask you for help hammered home that my priorities have changed.”

  She gave me a genuine smile and hugged me. “I’m happy for you, darling.” When she released me, she smoothed back a strand of my hair. “All grown-up. This will be an exciting new chapter of your life.”

  Thanks for the backhanded compliment, Mom. “I’m sure it will be.”

  “I’m glad you’ve…” Decided to live in the closet? “Shown such a mature and responsible attitude. How about we grab dinner? My treat.”

  Her enthusiasm for this fake decision was both buoying and depressing. Our relationship was better than ever, except for the part where it was built on us both being complicit in a total fucking lie.

  No lies, no games. It was supposed to be what saved us.

  “Rain check? I have a few loose ends to tie up before I take the other job.”

  “Of course.” She kissed my cheek, laughing when I wiped her lipstick off.

  “Okay, great. We’ll talk soon. And Mom?”

  She blinked at my use of that word since there was no one around to hear it.

  “Be careful with this legislation.”

  “We have very good security and people monitoring all Nefesh activity.”

  “You can’t be too vigilant,” I said. “Watch for any unstable element, even with Mundanes. If someone doesn’t feel right, then trust your gut.”

  I couldn’t be more specific because this fight against Chariot necessitated keeping Talia in the dark. For her own safety.

  Facing myself in the mirror wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

  “So suspicious,” she said. “A benefit in your new job.”

  “Yeah.” I kissed her cheek. “I’ll call you soon.”

  With that, I walked away, leaving Talia to mingle with my enemies–both in the open and the shadows.

  Once upon a time I’d had a mother who loved magic. She’d snuggled under the covers with me, told me all sorts of fantastic tales, and taught me to believe in the impossible. I’d lost a lot growing up and I’d stopped believing in happily-ever-after.

  But my mother had stopped believing in me.

  Chapter 25

  Pulling down my visor mirror, I carefully finger-combed my hair and reapplied my lipstick, determined to look my best for my next stop.

  “Failure is not an option,” I said, and turned the key. Moriarty didn’t start until the third try. Third time’s the charm, right? Taking it as a positive omen and not a sign that my life was about to derail, I drove to House Pacifica.

  Levi often worked Saturdays–him being there now wasn’t a stretch.

  Veronica watched me approach with furrowed brows, speaking to someone over a headset. When I got to her desk, standing there politely and waiting for her to finish, she kept craning around me, looking for something.

  After the second time, I stopped checking for whomever she was waiting for.

  Finally, she finished up the call and pulled the headset off her high ponytail without messing up a single hair. “He’s not in.”

  I pushed down the hot rush of disappointment. “Would you please give him a message to contact me immediately? It’s extremely important. And I’m sorry he makes you work weekends.” I thanked her and headed back to the elevators, wondering how long Rafael would give me before declaring my plan a bust and making me close down Cohen Investigations.

  I’d almost made it back to the elevators when Veronica called after me. “Am I being pranked?”

  I stopped and turned. “No?”

  She waved a hand at my outfit. “You show up here looking halfway professional, you behave politely. Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “He’s obviously inside.” She huffed in annoyance, picked up the receiver, and said something quietly into it.

  Totally confused by her behavior, I’d barely made it back to the executive area when Levi’s office door banged open.

  He took in my outfit and frowned. “Are you sick?”

  “I can dress nicely without it being indicative of disease. My professionalism is unparalleled.”

  Veronica and Levi exchanged a doubtful look.

  I threw them both the finger–behind my back where they couldn’t see–and walked into Levi’s office, thinking calm thoughts.

  Levi shut the door and sat down, turning his office chair away from its customary view of the window and towards me. “What’s up?”

  “I have a present for you.”

  He wheeled backwards, looking faintly queasy. “Is it more donuts?”

  “No. Consider this your official notice that the vials will be in my possession tomorrow. No more smudges.”

  He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “I guess you want to discuss payment.”

  “About that.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m going to take you up on your offer.”

  “Of obligation blow jobs?” He grinned.

  “Of the offer to work exclusively for you.”

  If I didn’t have everything riding on this, it would have been comical how he half-rose out of his seat, before dropping heavily back into it. He picked up a pen and clicked it several times. “Why?”

  “I don’t want to cause you problems by registering my magic and with my unique abilities, I’ll be an asset to the House. Protecting the Nefesh community is important, and I’d like to be a part of that.” The speech I’d rehearsed on the way over came out perfectly.

  “No.” He spun around, his back to me, and moved his mouse to bring his monitor to life. “Thanks for the heads-up on the vials.”

  My mouth worked, but no sound came out and a red haze washed over my vision. I spun Levi back around and shoved his chair up against the desk, hard enough to jolt him. “Why don’t I get the job?”

  “I wasn’t aware I owed you an explanation.”

  “You offered me the gig and you know damn well I’d be amazing at it. I’d be your own secret weapon and don’t tell me that doesn’t get you all hard.”

  “I hope not. Pretty sure that falls under HR sexual harassment and I have more than enough paperwork to deal with already.” He pried my hands off his lapels.

  “You can’t do this!”

  “Why not?” His mild curiosity pushed me over the edge.

  “Because I banked everything on you!” I thrust my hands into my hair. “There’s no team. Taking down Chariot, protecting humanity from their evil, it’s all on me. I was given a choice. My destiny at the expense of my dream or walk away from the magic and go back to being a nobody Mundane P.I.” I paced his carpet. “You were my answer to having it all. Working for you keeps my status under wraps, which allows me as a Jezebel to pursue Chariot from the shadows and fulfill my Sherlock dreams.”

  Levi caught my hand as I passed him for the fourth time. His eyes had that same blown-out look he got post-orgasm. “You had me at ‘I banked everything on you.’” He spoke the words in falsetto. “The job is yours.”

  I stumbled, and jerking free, punched him in the shoulder. “That’s what this was about? You wanted to hear me beg and admit that I needed you in my professional life?”

  Levi rubbed the tender spot. “That was a beautiful moment, but no. I wouldn’t have offered the job to you if I didn’t want you to take it. But I wanted you to take it, Ash, not some bullshit version of who you think I want you to be. You getting mad was the first honest thing you’d done since you showed up. Other than give Veronica and me the finger.”

  “I did not.”

  He stared at me flatly.

  “Whatever. The job is mine?”

  “I said it was.” He scratched his head. “Though I don’t see how that helps with your ‘destiny at the expense of your dream.’” He did the quotes.

  That was the other part of the very fine pitch I’d prepared. “Part of my duties here would be my Jezebel ones.”

  Levi drummed the pen on his thigh. “You want me to foot t
he bill to take down Chariot.”

  “Think about how much trouble those smudges they created caused and how dangerous it was to our magic community. If you think about it, this falls squarely under House obligation. Also–”

  Levi groaned.

  “You should give me a team. I already have Rafael–”

  Levi crossed his arms. “Who the hell is Rafael?”

  “Evil Wanker. My Attendant, silly. All Jezebels get one. He’s very stuffy.”

  “Do I have to pay him as well?”

  I sat down on his sofa, one leg over the other, swinging my foot breezily, now that this was going much better. “I’m not exactly sure. He might have independent means, but maybe. Hmm. That would be four people budgeted under this operation.”

  “Four?!” Levi threw the pen at me.

  “Yes. I want Arkady. He’s being underutilized here and he loves excitement.” Also, if Levi continued to use him to spy on me, I could control the flow of information. And possibly turn him. “Priya is only one day a week because the rest of the time she’s already on your payroll as a separate line item. Also, if you want to come play Scooby Doo, which I know you totally do, you wouldn’t need to pay yourself.”

  Sherlock had to gather a team to defeat Moriarty: Watson, Mycroft, Lestrade, even Scotland Yard and his irregulars. Molly Hooper got added in the series. If Sherlock couldn’t do it alone, I certainly couldn’t. This lone wolf needed a pack.

  Hopefully, I wouldn’t gnaw my paw off in the process.

  I clicked the pen, as another point occurred to me. “The rent on my office is a taxable deduction.”

  “I’m paying your rent?”

  “No point having all that money you spent making it so lovely go to waste.”

  “You’re gambling that my sense of duty is enough to compensate for the burden of taking all this on,” he said, flippantly.

  “It does. You’re Watson.” Click. Click.