by Jane Cousins
She eased her foot off the accelerator slightly as the car entered Haven Bay town limits. Mulling over the case. No physical evidence so far. Nothing untoward in the banking records she’d hacked into. Not so surprising, since the Incubus King had forwarded Darcy a copy of the untraceable cashier’s cheque.
Damn, she wasn’t seeing the connecting thread here yet. A big piece of the puzzle was obviously missing, and it was making her antsy.
Even if the Incubus had gone rogue, left the area, there should have been evidence of his arrival in the Sanctuary. The King had emailed her the co-ordinates for the Summoning Circle that had accompanied the cheque. An Incubus was nothing more than a Demon with a hellaciously pretty package. They couldn’t walk the Earthly Plane without a Summoner, and in the case of the Incubi, their appearance fee paid up front.
To make the transition between planes more pleasant, if the Demon were provided with arrival co-ordinates then it could open up its psyche to the Summoner. Allowing itself to be called in a relatively quick and stress free manner. The co-ordinates supplied were without doubt the Southern Sanctuary. And that meant one of the four Elemental Altars was required to make the connection to the Demon Realm.
Blasting through planes, that took a lot of energy and left a lot of residual evidence. Three Altars checked so far, one left.
Tomorrow they’d hit the dreaded Fire Altar. Darcy should have known it would be that Altar. Grrr. Just what she’d been hoping to avoid, frizzy hair and open pores. Nothing about this case was proving easy so far. Why should things change now? Speaking of annoying things, what in the name of the Goddess, was up with all this traffic?
It was a Wednesday, just gone lunchtime. No parades or parties were planned, yet the traffic along Beach Road had slowed to all but a crawl. They inched along, following the flow. Darcy ground her teeth, even more annoyed to find when she came to the turn off for the Town Square that the long line of cars in front of her were headed in the same direction. A large truck made the turn and suddenly Darcy could see what had caused the log jam.
That sneaky, balls out bitch. On the lawn, directly across the street from the Special Liaison’s Building, ten Pagan Priestesses were stretched out on towels, sunbathing in what could only be described as bikinis. That’s if you broadened the definition to include string and dental floss.
There was so much flesh on display, Darcy was kind of shocked the women hadn’t attracted a rogue band of hungry zombies. Instead, they’d just managed to draw the attention of every red-blooded male in the immediate vicinity.
It explained the traffic jam, and why most of the windows overlooking the Square were full of gawking lookee-loos. Darcy turned to glare at Declan, intending to tell him to put his eyes back in their sockets but annoyingly he was staring at his watch. Yeah, of course, this was Casanova she was talking about here, he had so many women throwing themselves at him on a daily basis that this bold bikini display didn’t even raise his level of interest to mildly intrigued.
“It’s just after twelve-thirty. How about I grab us some lunch?”
Hah, he intended to sneak off and inspect the eye candy up close and personal. And she was fine with that. He was a grown up. Single. Grrr, icy anger formed in her gut, at the core of the web and radiated outwards. “Just don’t make it anything too heavy. We’re expected at my parent’s place just after six.”
Declan’s violet eyes locked onto Darcy, pleasure lighting those sparkling depths. “I’m invited to Boyd’s birthday dinner?”
“Of course. When I told my mother we were working together this week, she insisted.”
“Intending to use me as a personal shield?” Declan grinned.
“Not at all. But there’s more chance of me getting cake if you’re there.” Less chance of her mother and her getting into an argument and Darcy being forced to storm off early on principle.
“Cool. I’d love to be your date.”
“It is not a date.” Darcy almost hit the kerb as she manoeuvred the car into her reserved parking spot.
“I don’t know about that. A couple, us, turning up together for a dinner party? Sounds kind of like a date to me.”
“No.” Darcy barked. Jerking hard on the parking brake.
“Just think about it. Breaking and entering together last night, that’s practically foreplay for you. And now asking me to your brother’s birthday. Darcy Montgomery, are you courting me?” Declan fluttered long lush eyelashes her way.
The knife was in Darcy’s hand and two inches away from Declan’s left eye before her mind caught up with her actions. “Quit with the dating nonsense, or you lose an eye.”
Declan’s smile never wavered, if anything heat fired in those violet depths. “And we have the trifecta, personal threats. I must have hit a nerve.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Declan dazzled her with the dimple duo. “Yesterday you were seen wearing nothing but my t-shirt, today you’re in my lap. The grapevine is going to go into melt down.”
Darcy was annoyed to find she had all but vaulted the handbrake in her bid to get closer to Declan… to threaten him, not for any other reason. “Please.” She immediately backed off. “I could decapitate you, drag your body out and put it in the trunk and no one in the Square today would see a thing… except perhaps for the bathing beauties.”
“So you want to manhandle me? Sweet.”
“Just go away.” Darcy waved him off, exiting the car speedily. She wasn’t going to look. She wasn’t. But half way up the stairs she glanced back expecting to see Declan chatting up all ten of the bikini clad Pagan Priestesses. Instead, all she got to see was ten gob-smacked gorgeous faces as Declan breezed by, seemingly oblivious. Cutting through the middle of the Square, headed for his favourite sandwich shop.
She knew Declan had said he didn’t want anything to do with his mother but she couldn’t believe he was snubbing all those bodacious posing babes. Two more women and they could have put together a Playboy calendar. Declan must be seriously hungry.
“There you are.” At the top of the staircase Darcy found her way blocked. “Just what are you going to do about this spectacle of flesh?”
“Spectacle of flesh, really, Daphne. I thought we had agreed on multitude of mountainous mounds?”
“No, no. I thought we were keeping it simple, tits and ass on parade?”
“Margo.” Both her sisters, Adelaide and Daphne, rounded on her.
Damn, cornered by three of her Great-Great-Aunts. Luckily they didn’t expect Darcy to smile and be nice. But they did assume she would keep her hands off her weapons and not hurt any of them. Honestly, the things she did for family. “What exactly do you expect me to do?”
“This is a public park. There are children present.” Margot huffed.
Darcy cast a quick assessing eye around. “I count sixty-eight witnesses to this event, no one is under twenty-three years of age.”
“It’s offensive.” Great-Great-Aunt Adelaide declared.
Darcy was genuinely surprised by her words. “Adelaide, you of all people, offended? I thought you’d be down there taking notes, searching for the next muse for one of your books.”
Adelaide tossed her golden tinged white mane of hair, sniffing loudly. “I’ll have you know all my heroines are respectable, smart, modest women… until they tap into their inner sexual animal. But even then they do so tastefully, with a sense of decorum and a dash of humour.”
Adelaide’s raunchy erotica books were mandatory reading in the Sanctuary. Whoa betide any family member who couldn’t point to a favourite book and quote at least two scenes. But never in all her speed reading had Darcy noted Adelaide’s heroines having a sense of decorum, as they succumbed to the raging desires of the flesh and all too often a bit of light BDSM.
“They’re not hurting anyone. It’s a nice day. They appear to be taking sun protection seriously.” Darcy’s ice blue gaze narrowed as she watched one bikini clad beauty slather another with sunscreen a little too enth
usiastically. “And okay, yes, we have a perfectly good beach only a five minute walk away. But as I said, the Town Square is a public place. And if they were breaking any laws, then it would be up to our local law officers to enforce it.”
“Harumph.” Margot, encased in a dark blue dress, pointed off to their left.
The Southern Sanctuary Police Station was on the same side of the Square as Darcy’s Building, in fact they adjoined one another and shared the same wide set of polished concrete stairs. Darcy glanced over to where Margot was pointing to find two of the McKenzie brothers, Gideon and Cam, dressed in their khaki police uniforms, enjoying some afternoon sunshine, their eyes locked on the spectacle of flesh in clear enjoyment.
Honestly, the least those two could be doing was to help with the traffic snarl, which seemed to have all but ground to a halt at the moment. Heavens, was that a fire truck? If Fen Valhalla was on board Darcy was totally dobbing him in to Brodie, his territorial Valkyrie wife.
“I don’t know what you think I can do. They’re not hurting anyone. Unless you count making the female population feel a little jealous. I don’t see any weapons… or in fact any place they could hide a weapon even if they wanted to.”
“So you intend to do nothing?” Margot’s eyes flashed with accusation.
“It’s not my place to do anything.” Darcy really wanted this conversation over. She had noted several of the Pagan Priestesses had quit lolling about and were now having an impromptu yoga class. Beautiful and incredibly flexible. Declan would be passing back through the Square any moment. She really didn’t want to have to stand here and witness that lust-fest.
“Well, then you give me no choice.” Daphne held her mobile up to her ear. Her red hair and the swathes of colourful silk scarves wrapped around her shoulders glinting with jewel tones in the bright sunshine.
“Daphne, what are you up to?”
“Siggie? Now… I don’t care if it isn’t scheduled. Now.” Daphne ended the call and turned to face the Square fully, as did her sisters, triumphant, gleeful smiles on all their faces. Damn, this couldn’t be good.
Darcy had just caught a glimpse of Declan’s breeze tousled golden locks exiting the sandwich shop across the Square when the automatic sprinkler system suddenly switched itself on.
Oh, Good Goddess, no.
Feminine squeals of surprise split the air.
Beside her, Darcy’s three Great-Great-Aunts all but cackled with evil glee.
The Pagan Priestesses squeals of surprise quickly changed to giggling delight.
The Aunts cackling halted abruptly as ten bikini-clad bodacious babes began to frolic through the sprinklers. Bosoms jiggled. Buttocks bounced. The barely-there swimsuits now clinging to glistening wet curves.
“You really didn’t think that through, did you?” Darcy gritted out from between clenched teeth, as off to their right came the sound of squealing tires and the crumple of metal. Off to their left, Great-Great-Uncle Gil missed a step on the staircase outside the High Council Building and went tumbling down, library books spilling out around him.
And right down the centre pathway of the Square came Declan, clutching a large paper bag. Darcy squared her shoulders, wincing as a wave of ice cold dread gripped her gut. Bloody Hell, add one Love God to ten frolicking wet and ready nymphettes, who wanted nothing more than to worship him, and there would be a riot… or more likely an orgy.
And the only reason Darcy was upset, was because of how all this was going to impact her. She wouldn’t get any lunch, and okay, she suddenly wasn’t hungry but that wasn’t the point. And she’d wanted Declan to follow up on the two highly suspect sightings of the missing Incubus they’d received. And then there was the Spare’s birthday party this evening. Who would act as a buffer between her and her mother? There went her chances of getting a slice of cake.
All perfectly good explanations as to why a wave of ice cold seething rage threatened to engulf her. What was up with that lately? Darcy didn’t do flying off the handle anger. She mounted clinical retribution campaigns on the Sanctuary’s enemies before they even left their evil lair to initiate their attack. She did cool, calculated reprisals and revenge. She put together punishing merciless treaty documents for when the bad guys inevitably surrendered.
And much to her annoyance, she was too often required to attend the funerals of their enemies. So boring. But nothing said what a fierce and unforgiving opponent the Sanctuary could be when the Special Liaison attended the funeral of the dearly departed, wearing a completely inappropriate outfit, and chose to sit directly behind the grieving family, smiling and waving at everyone. And any time there was a respectful lull in the serious ceremony, Darcy took it upon herself to hum something cheerful, to help perk up everyone’s spirits. She was thoughtful like that.
Darcy didn’t let anger grip her, guide her actions or re-actions. She was the Spider, spinning her web. Patient. Manipulative. She didn’t get angry, she got even. But twice within the last twenty-four hours she had pulled a knife on Declan. Who fell under the definition of family, even though technically he was not of their blood. What was up with that? What was up with her?
And even now, she had to fight the urge to pull out her favourite knife, march down there and start carving. Not on the Pagan Priestesses, but on Declan. If she carved her name into the hard muscled plane of his chest, it would be very clear to everyone with eyes who he belonged to… the Sanctuary of course, her name was just shorter, less time consuming.
Darcy wasn’t being possessive; she was just being protective of a member of the Sanctuary. It was her job to safeguard him, and she took her job very seriously.
Okay, so she might be feeling a little attached to Declan at the moment. He was effectively her intern for the foreseeable future, and her means of getting cake tonight. And so far he’d proven himself capable and quick thinking. He took direction well. And okay, yes, he was aggravatingly cheerful and flirty, but that was just him, and easily ignored. Plus, he had displayed all the hallmarks of being a decent cat burglar. Quiet, prepared, and quick on his feet. They’d had fun last night breaking into Nell’s office at the hospital and then Boyd’s house.
And she had already factored him into her plans for the rest of the week. No point in ditching him now. So for him to get distracted by a pack of Pagan Priestesses would inconvenience her. Grrr, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. He was a grown-up. He had every right to flirt with a battalion of bodacious babes on his lunch break if that’s how he chose to spend his time. Double grrr.
She should look away. Didn’t want to witness the flirty encounter, but Darcy respected other predators. Liked to watch them work, pick up the occasional pointer.
The Priestesses stalked Declan as he sauntered along the central main pathway. Skipping back and forth in front of him, from sprinkler to sprinkler. Laughing with abandon. Jiggling and bouncing with absolute disdain for words like sag and gravity. They were Raptors slathered in sunscreen as they herded their prey forward. Tossing their wet hair back. Flicking water at him playfully, in an attempt to get his attention.
Declan’s focus never wavered from the pathway, his long stride eating up the distance fast.
Darcy had to give him props, even as her gut felt like a slushie machine churning away. Declan played hard to get with a dedication that was almost admirable. Most men would have stumbled to a halt, slack-jawed and enjoyed the show, soaking up the attention. Declan, for all intents and purposes, looked completely oblivious.
Desperation does funny things to people. The Priestesses suddenly sensed they were about to miss their window of opportunity. Lips pouted until cheek muscles were strained to their limit. Bosoms bounced until one or two of the more overly endowed almost gave themselves black eyes.
A bold brunette in a shimmering platinum bikini decided to take matters into her own hands. A last ditch effort. Making a beeline directly for Declan. It was unclear whether she meant to casually bump into him, or tackle him to the grou
nd. Either way it was a wasted effort, at the last moment Declan side stepped, right into the path of a faulty sprinkler. Lightning fast he raised the paper bag over his head as he took the spray of water right in the face and chest.
“Oh, my.” Margo sucked in her breath harshly.
“Damn, I don’t have my camera. Does anyone have a camera?” Adelaide was mumbling under her breath.
Darcy found she couldn’t look away. Declan’s white t-shirt was suddenly transparent and clinging to hard muscular planes. He tossed his head back, sending his damp golden locks flying. Dimples dented as he sent a rueful smile, directed right at Darcy, his violet eyes blazing with amusement.
Off to her right, there sounded the screech of tires and a crumple of metal. Off to Darcy’s left, Great-Great-Aunt Celia who’d been helping her husband, Gil, get back to his feet, lost concentration and sent him slamming back down to the pavement, more library books tumbling to the ground around them. And two Pagan Priestesses in mid frolic forgot to look where they were going, smacking into one another and crashing to the wet grass.
“That was lucky.” Declan jogged up the stairs to where Darcy remained standing surrounded by their three Great-Great-Aunts. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I managed to keep our lunch dry.”
“That’s about the only thing around here that’s dry.” Adelaide fanned herself.
“What’s that?” Declan enquired.
“Nothing. Nothing.” Adelaide and her sisters dove forward to pat at Declan ineffectually with their hankies and in Daphne’s case, one of her jewelled scarves.
“It’s okay… I’m fine, really.” Declan attempted to side step all the attention. He glanced Darcy’s way, looking for help but all she did was roll her eyes at him. “Look.” He grabbed the waistband of his drenched t-shirt with one hand and pulled it off over his head. “I’ll just take it off and hang it up to dry.”
“It could probably use a good wash first.” Margo made a grab for it.
“No, I’ll do it.” Daphne tried to elbow her sister aside.