Heart of the Demon

by Cynthia Garner

  “Ice cream with that?”

  “Oh, of course.”

  The woman smiled. “You got it.”

  Keira waited until the waitress was gone before she asked, “Why on Earth did you pick way out here to meet? I like it, but it’s like a pimple on God’s arse. It’s to hell and back again to get out here.”

  “I think you exaggerate.” Caladh’s grin showed off his small, bright white teeth. “I believe the drive is worth it. The landscape around here is quite beautiful.”

  “I didn’t mean…” She heaved a sigh. “It is beautiful. I only meant it’s not a very convenient place to get to.”

  “That would be the point.” He glanced around. “It is quiet, and everyone in here is human.”

  “Except us.”

  “Except us,” he agreed. “Regardless, the humans should have no interest in our conversation, should any of them chance to overhear it.”

  The waitress returned, and he stopped speaking.

  Keira had to hide a smile. Even though he thought no one would have any interest in their discussion, he still wasn’t willing to talk in front of them. Not that she disagreed. They had to be careful.

  The waitress set a plate with a burger and fries in front of Caladh and then flipped over two coffee cups on the table. As she poured the coffee, she said, “I’ll be right back with your pie.”

  “Thanks,” Keira murmured. She and Caladh remained silent until the waitress deposited a big piece of peach decadence topped by a large scoop of vanilla ice cream in front of Keira and walked away. Keira speared a peach and put it into her mouth, her eyes briefly drifting closed as the sweet fruity goodness hit her taste buds. Then looking at Caladh, she said, “I think I’m about to be invited into the group.”

  His dark eyes lit up. “Most excellent! I knew my favorite grifter would get the job done.”

  “Favorite former grifter,” she reminded him. He might not appreciate her effort, but she’d been living a quiet, law-abiding life for decades. Just one slip in all that time and he’d taken advantage of it.

  “Not all that much former.” He broke open a small container of creamer and poured it into his coffee.

  She tightened her lips. By Dagda’s balls, how many times would he be throwing that in her face? As long as it suited his purposes, she acknowledged to herself. Seventy-five years ago she’d found herself on hard times. Partly out of desperation she’d taken up with a charming confidence man. They’d made good money, enough to get them through several lifetimes, but he’d been a con artist through and through and had wanted to do one last job. She’d been so much in love with him, she’d agreed. But it had gone arse over elbows and the mark—the man they’d chosen to swindle—had died. Not by their hands, but certainly because of their actions. He’d returned to his business earlier than expected, and rather than simply calling the police, he’d given chase. Keira and her partner had barely made it across a busy street unscathed. Their mark hadn’t been so lucky. He’d been hit by a car that had tossed him through the air, landing on the pavement where he’d been run over by another vehicle.

  To this day she carried the guilt of that like a gaping wound deep in her soul. Caladh had learned about it and now the crafty old seal used that knowledge to his advantage, pressing her into service free of charge.

  Not that she disagreed something needed to be done about this rogue group. Caladh had drawn her aside after the last council meet-and-greet of new arrivals to Scottsdale, and told her that he’d become aware of the group’s usage of a small device that opened a mini rift between the dimensions. That was distressing enough. Even more alarming, though, was the fact that by using the small gadget the group had been communicating with prets in the other dimension, and he didn’t know why. That was the reason he’d wanted her to infiltrate the rogue group—to find out who the members were and discover their plans. And, if possible, put a stop to those plans by any means necessary.

  In all the jobs she’d pulled, both here and in the other dimension, she’d never killed anyone. When she’d first gotten to Earth, the tribe she was part of had had several skirmishes with other tribes. She’d killed in self-defense or to protect her village. She wasn’t naive enough to think she shouldn’t be prepared to kill now. She only hoped it didn’t come to that.

  “So,” Caladh said now, “give me the details.”

  She told him about the vampire at the club. “The only thing I can do now is wait for his call.”

  “That is fine work, Keira. Truly outstanding.” He pointed at her with his fork, a French fry suspended from its tines. “Remember, though, I am authorizing this investigation on my own. The rest of the council remains unaware of this situation, and until I know whom I can trust I wish to keep it that way.”

  “I understand.” She scooped up a bite of pie. If she got caught, Caladh wouldn’t step in. He couldn’t help her and still maintain the secrecy that was needed.

  He leaned forward and said, “No one else is to know you’re doing this, or that you’re doing it for me. You’re to tell no one,” he repeated.

  “All right.” Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, did he think she was daft? She’d been around a hell of a lot longer than he had. He’d only been on Earth two hundred and twenty years. She’d been here over three thousand, starting out her new life with a small Celtic clan from the green hills of present-day County Galway.

  As a matter of fact, now that she thought on it, Caladh had come through the rift the same time as Tobias Caine, the newest vampire member of the council. She wondered if they’d known each other before.

  “No one is to learn about this,” Caladh stressed, his dark gaze fixed on her. “And you are to update me in as much detail as possible.”

  “I’ve got it.” She scowled and shoved the last piece of pie into her mouth. “I’m not stupid,” she said after she swallowed.

  “No, you’re not. You’re very clever. Possibly one of the most shrewd and cunning people I have ever met.” His liquid black eyes glittered. “Sometimes, though, a person can be too slick for her own good.”

  She let her fork clatter onto her plate. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He swiped his napkin across his lips and leaned back in his seat. One wide hand crumpled the napkin and dropped it onto the table. “Do not think for a moment that you can use this information to manipulate me.”

  “What information? And manipulate you for what purpose?” Keira shook her head. She wasn’t sure where he was headed with this, but she knew she didn’t like it one bit. Her aggravation showed in her next words. “Just what the feck are ya on about, Mr. MacLoch?”

  He pulled out his wallet and dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table. As he slid out of the booth, he picked up his water bottle and murmured, “Do not think you can blackmail me into anything by threatening to go to the rest of the council with what you know.”

  She frowned. “I don’t—”

  “That’s what grifters do,” he said. “They use situations to their own advantage.” He leaned so close she could smell coffee on his warm breath. “I know you’re trying to mend your ways, and I do appreciate the effort it takes for a person to change. I also know how easy it is to slide back into old habits.”

  As he walked away she drew in a deep breath and held it a moment, then blew it out slowly from between pursed lips. Caladh was the damned reason she was “sliding” back into old habits, the old bugger. He always presented himself with an air of affability, but she’d seen the ruthless side of him that had gotten him where he was on the council. She was under no illusions that she was working with a friend on this. He was her handler, pure and simple.

  If he thought he had to threaten her to keep her on task, he was wrong. Her conscience dictated her actions. She didn’t need any additional pressure from him.

  “Want me to top off your coffee?”

  Keira glanced up at the waitress and nodded, watching her pour the hot brew into the cup.

  “We’re not busy, hon, s
o no need to rush.” The waitress put the bill facedown on the table. For the first time Keira noticed the lines of exhaustion tugging at the woman’s eyes. “And let me know if you want anything else.”

  Keira took a sip of coffee and watched the woman go back to the front counter. The waitress put her hand on an older customer’s shoulder, saying something that made him laugh. She seemed like a kind woman, taking time to cheer up a customer even while tired. For a moment Keira felt wistful that she couldn’t be more like her. Oh, she could be as nice as the next person, but it was usually an act. No, more like a persona she slipped on. Random kindness to strangers wasn’t her first inclination. Her true nature was to look out for herself. As Caladh said, to twist situations to her own advantage.

  She had to work at being kind. And she did, but no mistaking, it was work. But she knew she didn’t ever want to go back to being the person she was before. This was her second chance, hell, it was more like her fourth or fifth chance, and she refused to squander it. By helping Caladh, and therefore the council at large, she would hopefully be scoring some points on the goodness scale.

  With a sigh she reached for the newspaper Caladh had left behind. The first article that caught her eye was a doozy: LEGISLATIVE COMMITTEE APPROVES MICROCHIP BILL.

  “For the love of…” She read on. “HB 3762, the preternatural tracking bill sponsored by Senator Glenn Martin, has been approved by legislative committee. If passed by both the House and Senate, this bill would include provisions for the forced insertion of microchips into every preternatural in the state of Arizona. The bill further assures that humans will not be part of the mandate.”

  Her lips tightened. Yeah, right. Just give them time. Soon enough they’d set their sights on their own kind and make it seem like it was for the greater good. If the state government allowed forced microchipping of prets, that slope was slippery, indeed.

  She grabbed Caladh’s ten and the bill from the table and walked to the front. The waitress rang her up. Keira handed her a twenty with a “Keep the change.” The poor woman had probably been on her feet all day; she deserved something for her efforts.

  “Thanks, hon.”

  Keira pushed open the door, smiling again at the jingling bell, and walked to her car. She pressed the remote to unlock the doors and, as she got behind the wheel, her cell phone rang. She dug in her purse and pulled it out. She pressed the phone icon and brought the cell to her ear. “Hello?”

  “It’s Javier.” The vampire’s voice was as silky as ever. Keira’s empathy didn’t work over a phone line, but he didn’t sound upset, so she could only assume he didn’t know she’d used glamour on him. “You’ll be invited to the next meeting, which is in a week. One hour before the meeting you’ll get a text message with the location. It’ll also have a special code that ensures your entrance.”

  “Great. That’s wonderful.” She threw as much gratitude into her voice as she could without overdoing it. “I appreciate it, Javier.”

  “Just make sure you show up, bonita. It won’t end well for you if you don’t.”

  From the dark tone in his voice, she knew he wasn’t joking. She had no doubt that anyone who expressed an interest in this rogue group and then didn’t follow through on their membership wound up dead. “Oh, no worries, I’ll be there.” She started to say more but didn’t get a response from him. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she saw that the call had ended. “What is it with people not saying good-bye?” she muttered and dropped the phone back into her purse.

  She started up her car and fastened the seatbelt. On the drive home, she went back over her conversation with Caladh. She understood his paranoia about getting other people involved. It would only take one person who was sympathetic to the rogues’ cause to muck up the works. And muck her up as well.

  Her thoughts drifted to Finn. Was he part of the group? And what if he was? How would she handle that? She couldn’t tell him why she was in the group—they’d have to carry on with their relationship, such as it was, with her pretending she was genuine to the cause.

  If he were part of the group, on one hand she wouldn’t be surprised. He was such a nonconformist. On the other hand, it would shock her to find him with the rogues because he really didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about anyone but himself. She didn’t think he’d care about what happened with the rift or with other preternaturals. Not unless it would directly affect him.

  She pressed her lips together. That was the biggest reason she shouldn’t get involved with him. He was too much like the person she used to be and she was doing her best to make amends for past wrongs. He didn’t give a flying feck about whatever sins he’d committed or those he was about to commit.

  He defined what being a demon was all about. Be damned, be unrepentant, and be on your own.

  Finn pulled his motorcycle into the garage and killed the engine. Getting off the bike, he pressed the garage door switch and waited until the door was fully down before he went inside the house. Without turning on any lights, he headed straight back to his bedroom. As inviting as his king-size bed was, he needed to get himself cleaned up before he could collapse between the sheets. It was after three a.m. and he was exhausted. He’d never had such a hard time getting women to cooperate. He’d spent a small fortune buying drinks and had gotten nowhere.

  He shed his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bedroom floor, and padded naked into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and jumped in. The lighted overhead water jet and four side shower heads wet him down in seconds. Goose bumps popped out on his skin until the water warmed up. A few minutes later he haphazardly toweled off and then crawled into bed naked. His body immediately relaxed against the memory foam mattress, but his restless mind wouldn’t let him sleep.

  His questioning at the club tonight had been subtle. He’d bought drink after drink, showered women with flattery and cajoled them with charm, but none he’d encountered was involved with the rogue pret group. He was sure of it. He could tell when people lied—there was a twitch of a muscle here, a slight flicker of an eye there—and none of the lovely ladies had so much as fluttered an eyelash except when they were flirting with him.

  There was only one person who came to mind that could hide when she was lying. Keira. He knew her background, that she’d been a con artist with her husband in the other dimension. Her husband had died before he could be sent through the rift, so Keira had been sent alone. In the past she’d relied on her grifting skills from time to time, but for the last several hundred years she’d pretty much walked the straight and narrow as far as he knew.

  He admired her for that. She had been strong enough, determined enough, to change who she was. He hadn’t, and she deserved better than him. He should keep his distance.

  Now if only his body, and his heart, would pay attention, he’d be all right while he lived out his life alone.

  Chapter Three

  The next evening, Finn rolled his bike to a stop in a parking spot near the front door of the Pixie Dust Lounge. He cut the engine and sat for a moment. The parking lot was well lit. The large sign on top of the building was neon, the pink outline of a woman with back arched and breasts outthrust was the main component. A glitter of cascading sparkles created the illusion of fairy dust streaming down from one of the figure’s outstretched hands.

  He wasn’t a stranger to these kinds of joints; he actually spent quite a bit of time in one or another. In reality he ended up in places like this not because he wanted to be there but because he’d tracked down a demon that needed to be reminded of the rules.

  There weren’t many guidelines for demon behavior, but Lucifer demanded absolute adherence to the few that were in place. When a demon broke one, Finn tracked him down. Usually at a strip club, because most demons—like any other male—had a thing for naked girls.

  Tonight, though, he was here on his own. To talk, not watch pole dancers, though he was just as red-blooded as the next guy. He foresaw lots more talking in his future even t
hough he was used to banging heads together to get what he wanted. He preferred banging heads together to get what he wanted. This whole business of trying to persuade people through verbal communication was making him psycho. He realized head bangings wouldn’t get him the desired results, so he was adapting.

  See? Anyone who said he couldn’t learn and grow was just shooting shit.

  He heaved a sigh and got off the bike. Pocketing the key, he swiped his palms down his jean-clad thighs and headed toward the front door. As he reached out for the knob, the door swung open. Finn jumped back to avoid getting hit, and scowled when a Surtur demon named Phoebus walked out of the building.

  Surturs were called fire giants by humans, but among their own kind they referred to themselves by the name of the planet they came from. They could put their hands on someone and, if they wanted to, literally kill them with a touch by heating up the victim’s body temperature. They could cause anything from a raging fever to spontaneous combustion. Even with the advances of modern medicine, Finn had never known of anyone who’d been touched by a Surtur and survived.

  As Phoebus stood before him, arms crossed over his chest, Finn made sure to keep some distance between them. He didn’t think the other demon would start anything, but he couldn’t be sure. While he wouldn’t call Phoebus his nemesis, they sure as hell weren’t friends, each holding an active dislike for the other. He curbed his natural inclination to reach out and pop the guy on his big schnoz. Instead, he tipped his chin in greeting. “Phoebus,” he muttered and started to walk around the other man.

  “That’s it? No trading of insults? No veiled threats?”

  Finn turned to look at Phoebus. The Surtur’s irises were almost completely yellow, which they hadn’t been until he’d gotten a look at Finn. Now his emotions were riled and it showed in his eyes. Finn figured his own eyes were probably showing a spark of his demon as well, but he didn’t have the time or the inclination to tap dance with the bastard. “Nope,” he said and turned back toward the club.