by K.N. Lee
Why was it so hard to think? She pursed her lips, struggling to clear her head without revealing her inner battle.
“I insist you join me,” Azkeel said.
His admirers watched with wide eyes. Their hands were frozen mid-grope and their bodies stiff, their inner battle to hide their distress at losing Azkeel’s attention obvious on their faces.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Shannon storm closer. He was almost to the arch of the alcove. She didn’t want to appear too eager with Azkeel — as much as a part of her really wanted to be eager — but she couldn’t turn down the opportunity. Regardless that she wasn’t an entity — or recognizable as one, which, when she had a moment, she’d turn some serious thought to — her information-gathering might not be at an end. She still might be able to get someone to talk to her.
Azkeel nudged his people away and eased off the pillow to kneel before her. “Don’t you believe in fate?”
She didn’t want to believe in fate. If she believed in fate, then Grandma Ro was right and something terrible awaited her. But somehow she was smiling instead of frowning at him. “You’re saying our meeting was fated?”
“There’s no other explanation. This night won’t be complete without you. I insist you join me.”
Shannon reached through the curtain of vines, seized her arm, and wrenched her to her feet. “Hill,” he barked, his tone dark.
She tried to wrench free of his grip, but he held on too tight. God damn it. Why couldn’t he have just pretended she wasn’t there or something? She glared at him and he let go as if her arm was suddenly too hot to hold.
Huh. She hadn’t thought just a look would have that kind of effect on the man.
She turned back to Azkeel. “I accept.” Then she shoved past Shannon and marched to the staircase without looking back at either man. She didn’t know how her other-self had dealt with Shannon, but bullying her in public was unacceptable.
She reached the inner foyer and was headed to the front door when Shannon caught up with her.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She spun on him. “I could ask you the same thing. Don’t you ever treat me like some possession again.” It seemed too strong since she didn’t really know the nuances of their relationship, but she was too angry to care.
Uncertainty flashed across his expression before he narrowed his eyes and growled. She couldn’t believe it. He actually growled. What had her other-self seen in this man? Or rather, entity?
“I told you to go back to the office,” he said.
“Because you were being petty and didn’t want me to join you in the interviews.”
“This is an entity club. Humans aren’t allowed. You know that. I know that. And Jovkovic knows it.”
“Didn’t look that way to me.” She raised an eyebrow. Those people with Azkeel had seemed perfectly human. “I’m pretty sure you could have gotten me in.”
He pursed his lips.
So that was a yes.
She shoved open the door leading to the outer foyer. The four-armed doorman still stood at his post. He glanced at her and the muscle in his jaw twitched. She strode past him, out the front door, and onto the steps. The rain had stopped, but it was gray and cold out. The SUV was parked a block away in the mini-mall parking lot and she had a feeling she’d have to listen to Shannon complain all the way there.
“So you just decided to break in?” Shannon asked.
“Yes, I just decided to break in.”
He grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. He let her do it. She knew that. He’d already proven he could overpower her and there was nothing she could do about it.
“This isn’t some human club,” he said. “Even you don’t go in without backup.”
“And if you had backed me up on our arrival…” She let the words hang between them. This Shannon — like the one from her world — struck her as smart enough to pick up her meaning.
She was going to do what she wanted, regardless of him, since she had no choice in the matter. Seth had backed her against a wall and it drove her crazy that she might have to play his game. She didn’t know where her other-self was… if there was an other-self and this wasn’t a dream… God, this was so confusing. Pick one. Fine, parallel world — she really hoped she was wrong, but she had to stick to something.
Parallel world equaled other-self, and she was on the verge of ruining whatever relationship her other-self had with Shannon. Rowan didn’t want to mess things up for other-Ro but she wasn’t going to pussyfoot around at the expense of going home. And really, maybe her other-self enjoyed the tumultuous relationship with Shannon. The thought didn’t appeal to her, but hey, each to their own.
Shannon glared at her, knowing she’d implied he hadn’t done his jump and she let him hang, trying to decide if she should push the situation. Her other-self didn’t deserve to be treated like a possession — even if that was the way she liked it.
This was ridiculous. She didn’t have time to wait and see who would break the silence first.
Jeez. “What did you find?”
Shannon jerked his gaze from her and shrugged. “Not much.”
Just her luck.
“Both of our missing demons were members of the club and part of some inner circle. Everyone I talked to thinks they’re on vacation.”
“I got that, too.”
“So there was no need for—”
“We’re not starting that again.” She gave him a dark look and he raised his hands in defense.
“Fine. There’s a private party tonight of the inner circle. I’m trying to get an invitation.”
She flashed him a wicked smile. “I already have one.”
24
Rowan and Shannon returned to the FBI office to find Special Agent in Charge Jovkovic waiting for them. He wore an expression similar to the one she’d seen from Agent Brown numerous times since she’d joined the occult crimes unit.
“I thought I told you to return to the office.”
She headed to her desk, but he followed.
“What about that did you not understand?” he asked.
There wasn’t any good excuse. She’d disobeyed an order and could only hope it wouldn’t become a habit. She wondered how much authority Jovkovic had over this world’s other-Ro, then decided it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to be here long enough for it to make a difference. “I thought Shannon could use some backup.”
From over Jovkovic’s head, she saw Shannon scowl and storm away. Well, that was an easy dent made in his ego.
“I need a profile of the victims more than Shannon needs help,” Jovkovic said.
“Knowing where and with whom the victims socialized is essential to creating an accurate profile.” She had no clue if that was the case, but it sounded good.
Jovkovic didn’t look impressed. “All of which you could have learned from reading the files.”
That might be true, but she was sure there were certain nuances at the club that didn’t come across on paper. Maybe there was something else motivating Jovkovic. Everyone had seemed surprised to see her up and about. Manny was dead. How badly had she, or rather her other-self, been hurt in this world?
Funny how only a few days ago she would have been content sitting at her desk and reading the reports, although she supposed a part of her had wanted more hands-on experience with fieldwork.
“You know as well as I that you’re too human to get inside without a warrant or help from an entity. And while I’m sure Agent Shannon would have vouched for you, we can’t have you cavorting around needlessly with him. This case is too important.”
“Excuse me?” That sounded awfully close to a commentary on her private life, not her work life.
“How dumb do you think I am? What you and Shannon do on your own time is none of my business, but when it affects your work and I have the most powerful families in the entity community breathing down my neck—”
Oh, that was too far. “It
’s not affecting my work.” Although really she had no idea if it was. She’d only been living this other-life for less than a day.
Jovkovic glared at her through his thick glasses. “Really? Where are my profiles?”
“Do you have any forensics yet?” She fought to keep her voice even.
“No.”
“Then why don’t you go breathe down their necks?”
“Because I’m breathing down yours.” Jovkovic put his hands on his hips. If he was taller, it might have been more intimidating. As it was, Mr. Muscles from the entities’ club with his four arms and third eye won the prize, and Jovkovic just looked petulant.
“All you really have right now are two demon brats on holiday and a bunch of nosy rich parents. There’s nothing to prove otherwise.” She snatched the files off her desk without looking at what they were and pushed past Jovkovic.
“Where are you going?”
“To our second victim’s apartment. Maybe there’ll be something there to profile.”
She rushed out of the office, biting back her frustration. She hated being accused of anything, let alone not doing her job. And the fact that it was true hurt more. It didn’t matter that she had no idea what her job was supposed to be, or that she wasn’t planning on staying in the world.
The elevator released her and she rushed out the front door. God damn it. These were issues she needed to get over. She was a grown woman, for goodness sake.
She jerked into the alley between the Federal Building and the next office tower and slapped her palm against the building’s rough exterior in frustration. The pile of folders under her arm slipped and she adjusted her grip.
It all came down to the fact that she had no idea what she was doing. That was what really bothered her. All she had was a bunch of papers for a case she hadn’t even looked at and a barely controlled urge to scream at everyone.
God, just get a grip.
She pressed her back to the building, squeezed her eyes shut, and sucked in a slow breath. She would conduct this investigation — once she figured out what she was supposed to do — and find a way home, either by finding an alternative to Seth, a way to force Seth to send her home or by breaking down and doing Seth’s bidding.
That made her insides squirm. She hated doing anyone’s bidding.
No. Everything was manageable. She could handle this. She would handle this.
And the first thing she needed was to gather more information. She rifled through her purse, found her phone, and dialed technical support.
Bright-and-Cheery answered again. “It’s a wonderful day. What can I do for my favorite profiler?”
“Can you do a background check on someone for me?”
“Sure thing. Who and how soon?”
“Seth Abbaddon, and as soon as you can.”
“On it.”
“And,” Rowan said before Ms. Sunshine hung up. A little preemptive damage control was probably a good idea, too. She could see it now, Jovkovic all in a tither because she’d ordered a background search on an upstanding member of the entity community — although somehow she didn’t think Seth was that upstanding. “Could you keep it on the down low?”
“Oh?”
“I’m working on a hunch, and you know how gossip travels in the office.” She had no idea if gossip traveled the same way in this office as it did back home. With only two primary agents, four or five on-call agents, and a few contractors working in the OCU, everyone knew everything about everyone else. But here…
She had no idea what this unit was even called, let alone how many people worked in it. However, the comments from Jovkovic about her and Shannon suggested a certain amount of gossip did circulate. Of course, maybe her other-self and Shannon weren’t discreet.
Yet another thing she might not have in common with this world’s self.
“Mum’s the word,” Ms. Sunshine said. “A plain envelope will make it into your side drawer, and no one will be the wiser.”
“Thanks.” Rowan hung up, wondering how often her other-self went behind her boss’s back. Ms. Sunshine of technical support didn’t even seem curious about it, which implied it happened, perhaps a lot.
This brought to mind the nagging question of where her other-self was. Surely she was somewhere causing trouble.
Rowan dialed the number for the hospital where she’d gone when she’d been shot. Since everything else was so similar, it seemed logical that her other-self would have been sent there, as well. An automated operator answered and listed numeric options. She selected the registry.
“Patient registry,” a woman said. She sounded tired and Rowan could only guess the woman was at the end of her shift or had worked too many hours, too often.
“My cousin was admitted a few days ago and I’d like to send her flowers. Could you tell me what room Miss Rowan Hill is in?”
“One moment, please.”
She was put on hold, and tinny elevator music squeaked over the connection. As she waited, she watched the people on the street. Autumn had decided to make an appearance, and a cold wind blew dead leaves down the road. Pedestrians hugged their coats and clutched their collars to keep the chill out. Cars inched by, caught in perpetual slow traffic. Beneath her, the ground thrummed as a subway train roared by.
All she needed was to talk to her other-self. Together they could sort everything out. She was sure her other-self wouldn’t be impressed if she ruined her life. And the less time she spent masquerading as someone she wasn’t, the better.
“Thank you for holding. I’m sorry to inform you Rowan Hill passed away yesterday from her injuries. Her body has been transferred to the morgue but hasn’t yet been released.”
A gust of wind stung Rowan’s cheeks, and she turned her back to it, huddling closer to the wall of the Federal building.
“Excuse me?” She hadn’t heard right. The woman had said she was dead— No, that her other-self was dead. “Her injuries weren’t that serious.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any more information available.” The woman hung up.
Rowan listened to the dead air, unable to move the phone away from her ear and hang up.
She was dead.
How did something like that happen? But it happened every day. People lived, died, were born.
Circle of life and all that crap.
And sometimes the natural order of things had nothing to do with it. She wasn’t supposed to be here in this world, and yet Seth had brought her here. From what she’d seen of the demon — sexy or no — she wouldn’t put it past him to have had a hand in her other-self’s demise.
She flagged a taxi and took it to the hospital. While the subway would have been more cost-efficient, she didn’t want to wait. The morgue would only hold the body for so long, and she didn’t want to keep chasing it all over town. Besides, it would be nice to look at the body with whatever report was available and have a doctor there to explain it — and she was going to keep referring to her other-self as the body, or she was sure she’d lose her mind.
With plan in place, she finished the ride with relative ease, paid the cabby, and forced herself to walk — not run — into the hospital.
The morgue lay in the basement at the end of a cold, bright hall. Rowan followed small plaques with arrows directing her to a pair of double doors with another plaque, at chest height, labeled morgue. Underneath the white lettering was the word in Braille.
Rowan ran her fingers along the raised dots, her other hand raised before the closest door. There was something surreal about going to the morgue to look at yourself.
Was this how identical twins felt whenever they looked at each other? Her other-self wasn’t her, but a part of her couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She couldn’t understand how she was dead.
She pushed the door open and strode in. A man in white scrubs glanced up from cleaning a body on a stainless steel table and nodded in the direction of a small office to the right of the door. Inside, a middle-aged man with a s
houlder-length gray ponytail sat behind the desk cluttered with piles of paper, folders, newspapers, and Post-It notes. On the corner, partially covered by a newspaper, was a name plaque: Dr. John Mercer. He peered at her over a pair of silver-rimmed half-glasses.
“I’m here for Rowan Hill,” she said, flashing her badge — hopefully fast enough that he wouldn’t pay attention to her name.
Mercer nodded, stood, and led her to a bank of square doors along the back wall.
The handle clicked and she held her breath.
She didn’t know why. Perhaps because in all the time she’d spent studying occult crimes and working first with the RCMP and now the FBI, she hadn’t actually been in the presence of a corpse. She’d seen pictures — and with the recent case, gruesome ones — as well as autopsy pictures. But her other-self wouldn’t look like that. She’d died in the hospital, of a known cause, not murder. That was something else she should probably look into.
Mercer opened the door and slid the tray halfway out. It was empty.
25
The medical examiner, Dr. Mercer, glanced from the empty drawer in the morgue’s cooler locker to the card on the front of the stainless steel door. “Hill? Rowan Hill?”
Rowan nodded.
He pursed his lips and turned to the lanky young man in white scrubs, working on a body on the other side of the room. “Jerry, what’s the status on Rowan Hill?”
“She was sent out this morning.” Jerry peeled off his gloves and went to a counter with a row of file folders standing in a metal rack. He riffled through them, picked one, and opened it. “Yep. Bereavement Liaisons notes that the body’s to be cremated before shipment to Canada.”
“Cremated? Where?” she asked.
Jerry shrugged. “It doesn’t say.”
“It doesn’t say?” She rushed to his side. Maybe she — or rather, her other-self — wasn’t dead and there was hope to figure this out. Of course, a missing corpse didn’t prove or disprove her other-self’s death.