Keira sat down. Who could have done this? At least she knew it hadn’t been Finn, because he’d been with her all morning. Relief that he wasn’t involved was short-lived as she began wondering who might have committed the crime. She tried to get a glimpse into the main chamber. She thought she saw a couple of liaisons inside the room, including two of the werewolf liaisons, Victoria Joseph and Bartholomew Asher. Then the guards at the door closed ranks, making anything more than their large brutish bodies impossible to see. They moved again, and Caladh walked out. Blood streaked the front of his white council robe and covered his hands.
She shot to her feet. “Caladh!” She started toward him, only to be stopped again by the burly guard. “Get out of my way, you damned beastie,” she grated.
“It’s all right, Jeff,” Caladh said. To Keira he replied, “It’s not my blood. It’s Deoul’s.” He paused, his face pallid. “He’s dead.” He raised liquid brown eyes to hers. “Someone killed him. I went into the chamber to…” He shook his head. “He was lying on the floor, covered in blood. I tried to save him.” He stared at his hands. “I tried.”
She went over and took him by the arm. “Come over here and sit down,” she said. She looked at Jeff. “Sorry about the damned beastie thing.”
“No problem.” His slight smile lightened the tension on his face for a moment. “But you need to stand back from him, miss.”
“Oh, right.” No sense in contributing to cross-contamination or whatever the hell it was called. She helped Caladh to a chair and then sat down herself, keeping an empty chair between her and the councilor. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
He shook his head then stiffened before turning toward her. His scowl brought some color to his pale face. “Later, when we can talk in private,” he muttered so low she had trouble hearing him, “you can explain why you came here. For now”—he looked at the guard—“Jeff, make Miss O’Brien comfortable in the employee lounge, would you? She doesn’t need to be mixed up in all of this.”
“Yes, sir.” Jeff motioned down the hallway. “This way, miss.”
Keira stood and walked with him down the hall, casting one last glance over her shoulder to see Caladh sitting by himself, shoulders straight, eyes staring in front of him, while activity took place all around him. The calm in the eye of the storm.
Had Deoul’s murder been at Stefan’s instigation? It seemed too coincidental for it not to have been.
By Dagda’s balls, would any of them make it out of this mess alive?
Finn accepted the bottle of chilled beer Caine handed him.
“Tori just called to let Nix know that Deoul was murdered at council headquarters.” Caine walked toward an overstuffed armchair across from the sofa Finn was on.
“Murdered!” Finn leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “By whom?”
Caine shrugged. “With all the prets that are in and out of there, it’s impossible to know at the moment. But it certainly underscores the importance of what we’re doing, and the need to keep it a secret, wouldn’t you say?” He shook his head and sat down. “It can’t be a coincidence that the council president was taken out three days after my ‘murder.’”
Nix perched on the plump arm of his chair, and he reached behind her. From the way he moved, Finn assumed Caine was stroking his hand across her back. It was the penultimate picture of wedded bliss. Finn was actually happy for them.
“No, I imagine Liuz is behind this.”
“And no one besides the three of us and Lucifer know what we’re doing?” Caine stared at Finn, his gaze implacable. “Everyone must think you’ve joined the pret group as a viable, energetic member. One who will do what’s necessary to further the group’s cause.” He let out a low sigh. “I don’t even know who on the council I can trust. I think I can trust Caladh, but I’m not sure about anyone else, so at this point I haven’t shared anything with anyone.”
“I haven’t told anyone, either.”
“Not even your friend Keira?”
He stared at Caine and took a swig of beer. “What part of ‘I haven’t told anyone’ did you not understand?”
“I’m just making sure,” the vampire said. He leaned back against his chair, relaxed and at ease.
“Though my father did tell Betty.”
“What?” Caine sat up, no longer so relaxed.
Nix also straightened. “Wait, what?” Her gaze narrowed on Finn. “So you’re telling me that Lucifer really is your father, like all the rumors say?”
Finn merely raised a brow and took another sip of beer.
She looked at Caine. “Did you know?” she asked.
He glanced up at her. “Lucifer told me several months ago.”
At the dark look Nix shot her husband, Finn figured Caine should’ve kept that last little bit to himself.
Eyes flashing with demon fire, Nix jumped to her feet. “Let me make sure I have this straight. Several months ago my mother’s boyfriend told you that Finn was his son, and you didn’t tell me? You know I’ve been wondering about that.”
“It wasn’t my story to tell, honey.” Caine tugged her down onto his lap. Finn noticed that she didn’t put up much of a fight. “It was Finn’s.”
She turned her glare on Finn. “And why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I like to keep you guessing, little cousin. It keeps your mind sharp.”
She let out an aggrieved sigh. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. Don’t call me that.”
“The more you tell him not to, the more he’ll do it,” Caine murmured. “If he doesn’t get a rise out of you, there’s no more fun to be had, and he’ll let it go.”
“He’s also right here, listening to you.” Finn tipped the bottle to his lips and chugged several deep mouthfuls of beer. “Don’t you pay him any attention, Nix. I like calling you ‘little cousin.’ And just think, if our parents ever get around to getting married, I can call you ‘little sister.’”
“Aargh.” Nix struggled off her husband’s lap and glared at Finn, though he could see humor lurking in her eyes. “You are a pain in my ass, you know that?” She sidestepped Caine’s attempt to haul her back down. “I’m going to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich and some tomato soup. You”—she pointed at Finn—“can go out to eat. And you,” she said to her husband, her expression softening, “can come get a bite whenever you want to.”
Finn watched her walk away. He was used to rubbing Nix the wrong way, and he ordinarily didn’t care what she or anyone else thought about him. But he cared what Keira thought. She was light to his darkness, a breath of fresh air in the squalidness he found himself in day after day. He had to battle back unfamiliar guilt at deceiving her. What a mess he was in.
“There’s something else you should know,” Caine said.
“There usually is.” Finn finished his beer and leaned forward to put it on the coffee table. Then he sat back and crossed his legs, resting his ankle on the opposite knee.
“Liuz is Tori Joseph’s cousin.”
Finn shifted against the sofa. “I’m sure I misheard you. What the hell did you say?”
“Stefan Liuz, known as Natchook ot Renz in the other dimension, was a cousin to Sirina lan Maro. After the rift, Sirina became Victoria Joseph.”
“And you didn’t think I should know that little fact when you asked me to infiltrate the group?” Finn pushed to his feet. “And you were worried about maintaining secrecy with me. I don’t see how Tori will sit back and let her cousin be captured. She has to know he won’t let himself be taken alive.”
Caine shook his head. “No, he won’t. But Tori’s learned her lesson. She won’t interfere in what has to be done.”
“What do you mean?”
The vampire glanced toward the kitchen. “Natchook…Liuz is the one who caused Nix to be turned.”
Finn had heard the story, or part of it at any rate. He’d known that Nix had been attacked and that Caine had turned her in order to save her life.
He hadn’t known that Stefan Liuz was the one who’d savaged her. “And Tori knows this?”
“She does now.” Caine took a breath and blew it out. “Her brother went rogue a few months back and killed or turned half a dozen people or so. Including Dante MacMillan’s sister.”
Finn let out a low whistle. “I’d heard about all of that when it was happening, of course. Liuz was involved?”
Caine nodded. “Tori’s brother was doing it as a way to prove his worth to Liuz.” He sighed again. “Believe me, she knows better than to stand in the way. Liuz has been responsible for the loss of many lives in his quest for power, and there’s only one penalty to pay.”
Death.
Still, Finn sensed some hesitation on Caine’s part. “You’re not sure of her, are you?”
He met Finn’s eyes. “She loves her cousin. On some level she has to be thinking of a way to get him out of this. I know I would be.”
“Uh-huh.” He stared at Caine. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Caine shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
Before Finn could reply, his cell began to play “Highway to Hell.” He tugged his phone from his back pocket and connected the call. “Dad,” he greeted.
“I assume you’ve heard Deoul’s been killed.” Lucifer’s voice was terse.
“Yeah, Caine told me.”
“You’re with him?”
Finn rubbed his brow. “I’m over at his house.”
“Let him know that Caladh has been put in place as interim president until formal voting can be scheduled.”
“That was quick,” Finn muttered. “Both the action and you finding out about it.”
Lucifer laughed. “You know I have people everywhere, son. Anyone who thinks I don’t know what’s going on would be mistaken.”
And that made Finn wonder something else. “Which begs the question: How long have you known about this rogue group?”
His father didn’t respond right away. When he did, it was only to say, “I’ve known awhile. It doesn’t matter how long, does it? I am doing something about it.”
“Right.”
“We’ll touch base later,” Lucifer said and ended the call.
Finn slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Nix came into the room, popping the last bite of grilled cheese into her mouth. “It got quiet in here. I couldn’t hear anything from the kitchen,” she said, admitting to listening in with a grin. She looked from Finn to her husband. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’m waiting to find out,” Caine said.
Finn raised his brows. “Caladh’s been named interim council president.”
“Well.” Caine looked at his wife and then met Finn’s gaze again. “That changes things, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does.” Finn blew out a breath. “Does this mean that we can trust Caladh more? Or less?”
“There’s the sixty-thousand-dollar question.” Caine put his arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her close to his side. “I don’t know. For now, let’s keep things on the QT as we’ve been doing.”
The dynamics, not only of the council but of the preternatural community on the whole, had changed. How, or if, it would impact the rogue group was anyone’s guess.
Chapter Twelve
Later that evening Finn switched off the motorcycle and heeled the kickstand down. He sat on his bike a moment, studying the exterior of the “club” his father had sent him to. Seemed there was a demon named Julius Ferko who’d decided to bring some fire-and-brimstone-style terror to his human neighbors, and Lucifer wanted it stopped. There was only a little over a week to go until the next rift occurred and tensions among humans were running high.
Julius was one of the Sheddai, demons who could cause rising dread and paranoia in their victims and then feed off those emotions. Julius, though, topped it off with the fear that the devil was after them, which added exponentially to his victims’ misery. He was suspected of being the cause of an attempted suicide at one house and an attempted murder at another. Finn would find out exactly what Julius had done and use his own judgment as to what needed to happen from here.
He heaved a sigh and got off his bike. Graffiti littered the outside east wall, and the sign above the door was missing some bulbs, so the name read OOBIE HAT H.
Why in the hell did these guys always have to hang out at strip joints? Just once he’d like to have a conversation at a high-end steak place where he could get a good meal to go along with his trouble.
He went inside, wincing a little at the loudness of the music blaring from speakers mounted above the performance area, and headed straight to the bar. The bartender, a human, looked up. “What can I get you?” he asked.
“Information,” Finn responded in a low voice. “And a beer. Whatever’s on tap.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and retrieved a photo of Julius. As he showed it to the bartender he glanced around the establishment. The main room was roughly two thousand square feet, give or take. Three women performed pole dances, one at either end of the raised platform and one hot babe in the center stage that jutted out about six feet into the room and was very well lit.
The music at this joint was better than the last one he’d been at. It was upbeat and modern as opposed to cheesy and sad. The audience, if it could be called that, consisted entirely of men, a mixture of preternaturals and humans. Finn focused his attention back on the bartender. “I’m looking for this guy. You seen him lately?”
Curiosity filled the bartender’s eyes. He absently wiped a glass and gave a nod. “He’s here all the time. What’d he do?” He put the glass at the beer dispenser and pulled the tap.
“He here now?” Finn asked without answering the guy’s question.
“He was just a few minutes ago.” The man gazed out over the tables and Finn did the same. Men were seated generally by themselves, sometimes in pairs. One large group was particularly raucous, right in the middle of the room at the center stage. The bartender finally pointed to one man at the far side of the room. “That’s him. The bald guy getting the lap dance from Treat.” He wiped the outside of the glass with the rag and handed the foamy beer to Finn.
“Thanks.” Finn slipped his phone into his pocket and accepted the beer. After paying for the drink, he strode toward the table the bartender had pointed out, stopping a few feet away to watch for several seconds. The lovely Treat—and Finn appreciated why she had that name—had Julius worked up for sure. She shimmied, shook, and rubbed her body all over him, leaving a smear of glitter on his chest and thighs, and everything in between. As Finn began to sense Julius’s ardor beginning to peak, he drawled, “Well, hell. Julius! Fancy seeing you here.”
Julius jerked with a startled “Hey!” and sent Treat tumbling off his lap.
Finn reached out to steady her and set her on her feet. Digging into the back pocket of his jeans, he tugged out his wallet and retrieved two twenties. “Go take a break, honey,” he said, handing the bills to her. “You look like you can use it after this guy.”
Her lips twitched but she was too much of a professional to actually laugh and agree with him. “Thanks,” she murmured as she took the money from between his fingers.
Finn watched her sashay off. He flipped a chair around and straddled it, resting his forearms on the back. He took a sip of his beer and stared at a very nervous Sheddai. “Now, then. Julius. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to?”
“Nothing. I haven’t been up to anything.” He glanced around the room. “I don’t know what you heard that made you look me up, but I haven’t done anything. Honest.”
Finn took the opportunity to study him more in depth. It was time to push the guy even more off balance. “You know, Julius,” he drawled, “it’s a good thing you don’t have to impress people with your looks in order to influence their emotions. With that shiny head and that paunch of yours, I bet the only way you get a woman to pay attention to you is if you pay her. Like sweet little
Treat there.” He let a slow smile curl up his lips. “Am I right?”
Julius sputtered, drawing himself straighter, his bearing one of affronted dignity. “I don’t have to p…” He scowled. “I get plenty of action from women.”
Finn gave an unconcerned shrug. “Well, that’s neither here nor there, is it? I shouldn’t have brought it up. What I’d really like to talk about is what’s been going on in your neighborhood.”
Julius went still except for a trickle of sweat that slid down his face in front of his left ear. “I don’t know.” His gaze flitted around the room as if he were looking for an avenue of escape. Or rescue.
A quick glance told Finn that everyone else was either genuinely not concerned about what was going on in this corner, or they deliberately had looked away in order to not get involved. “Come on, Julius. You know what I’m talking about. Mrs. Peterson two doors down? Lovely little old lady, in her right mind and of sound health who, without warning, tried to hang herself from the second-story landing. Or what about Myra Davis right next door, who tried to hack off her husband’s head while he slept?”
“I…I had nothing to do with that.” Another drop of sweat followed the first in a shiny trail down Julius’s face.
“You’re not nervous, are you, Julius?” Finn raised his brows. “It’s actually quite cool in here.”
Julius stood, knocking his chair over.
“Sit down,” Finn said. “We haven’t finished our conversation.”
“It’s finished as far as I’m concerned.” The Sheddai demon took a couple of steps back, his hands fisted at his sides. “You…you can’t just hunt me down and accuse me of…things. Whatever you think happened to my neighbors, you can’t hang any of it on me.”
“Funny you should put it that way.” Finn put his palms on his thighs, ready to push to his feet if necessary. “Julius, don’t make me tell you to sit down again. And do not make me chase you. You know I’ll catch you, and the mild annoyance I’m feeling right now will be downright ugly when I do.” He paused. “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”
Heart of the Demon Page 15