Demon Ensnared (Demon Enforcers Book 4)

by Jenn Stark

  She was about to suggest to Joe that the three of them go and get some coffee in the hospital’s cafeteria or whatever passed for food options in this facility, when the doors opened again. A doctor walked in and glanced first at her bodyguards before zeroing in on Angela. He walked forward, and it was all she could do to steel herself for his words.

  “Your parents are going to be just fine,” the doctor said warmly, surprising her. “We did recover a medical device from the neck of your mother—not something I’ve ever seen before, but you can rest assured that analysis is currently underway. Removing it appeared to cause no other distress, so it could be simply a tracker. Obviously alarming, but not life-threatening by itself.”

  “And my father?”

  “No device,” the doctor assured even as Gregori stiffened beside her. “We did both X-rays and MRIs, even an incision. We were surprised, since we expected to find a device. There isn’t even any scarring at the site where we would expect there to be, indicating a device had recently been implanted or removed.”

  “Okay.” She had no reason not to trust this man, but given the intensity rolling off Gregori in waves, she suspected she should tread warily. She unexpectedly longed to hold Gregori’s hands once more, to feel his cool and penetrating gaze. She didn’t understand what was happening here, but she sensed he did in some way. She needed to know what he knew. “What are our next steps?”

  “We’re going to keep your parents here for a couple of days just to make sure they’re recovering the way we expect them to, totally standard procedure, though that may change once the analysis of the medical device implanted in your mother’s neck is complete. If we have reason to believe your parents’ lives remain in danger, we’ll suggest an alternative course of action, but otherwise, they’ll be able to go home. Rest assured, they’ll be safe here.”

  Angela pursed her lips. Up until last week, she’d felt safe enough that she’d become complacent. That complacency had been ripped away.

  She needed to understand why.

  9

  Gregori watched Angela closely as they entered the lobby of her luxury condo, having personally reviewed all her security measures and found them adequate, if not spectacular, no matter how ironclad she considered them. Angela was far more careful than the average woman, but if they were dealing with assailants who could implant her parents without their knowledge or consent, he wasn’t all that interested in leaving a trail for them to follow. Especially if they were looking at a threat from somewhere within her government.

  And that was beginning to seem a disturbing possibility. One of the benefits of being a demon was a thorough understanding of the physiological attributes of God’s children. Human beings were perfectly integrated systems, and any alteration to those systems appeared to both demons and angels as glowing beacons—hip replacements, artificial hearts, even donor organs lit up like Christmas lights when a demon surveyed a human. A handy feature, since the technology for robotic replacement parts was becoming ever more sophisticated and ubiquitous.

  Bottom line, however, Gregori hadn’t merely suspected that Angela’s parents had been implanted with multiple devices. There was no question in his mind. So for the smiling doctor to regard Angela with an absolutely straight face and tell her he’d only recovered one device…that was a problem. It meant that either the assailant group had infiltrated the hospital, or members of Angela’s own government had done so, stepping in to extract the devices for their own observation without giving her complete information.

  Gregori didn’t begrudge the government its need to understand the terrorists in its midst, but he begrudged them the decision to lie about it. Perhaps Angela would be privately briefed later about the true nature of what was discovered when her parents were examined, perhaps not, but it was something Gregori would watch very closely.

  He’d wasted no time informing the archangel of the developments, but he wasn’t pleased on that front either. The fact that Michael seemed to be more or less in the dark about this newest splinter faction of strangely powerful demons was a very bad thing. He’d admitted to requesting the help of the Arcana Council to a greater degree and promised that help was forthcoming, but this was the Archangel of the Lord who’d been assigned dominion over both angels and demons since before the dawn of time. For Michael not to be in the know simply did not make sense.

  “There’s more security here,” Angela said abruptly, nodding at the line of personnel at the reception desk. She appeared once more crisp and coiffed, not a hair of her dark ponytail out of place, the tailored business suit she’d changed into at the hospital camera ready. “That’s your work?”

  “Partly,” Gregori said. “Joe agreed to it, as well as posting security personnel in any currently unoccupied units in the building. You’re covered.”

  She shot him a glance. “You’ve done this before.”

  Gregori shrugged. “You could say I’ve had a lot of years protecting people.”

  “But you haven’t been inside my condo.”

  “I have not.” The truth was, he hadn’t wanted to leave her side, even though he’d done little but hover at a distance as she’d conferred again with the doctors and then the police. But now they were back, and as they stepped into the elevator and moved up to the fourth floor, he sensed an odd energy in the building, something…out of place for the brick, steel, and glass condo. “Joe said he’d do a sweep before we returned.”

  She snorted, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Joe loves nothing more than being put on sweep duty, no matter how much he complains about it.”

  Gregori didn’t understand what she meant, but then they were off the elevator and moving down the hallway, where the sense of wrongness intensified. The energy on this floor was—chaotic. Frantic almost. A whirling dervish of barely constrained activity.

  He cocked his head, but he couldn’t hear anything. In fact, the floor seemed almost preternaturally silent.

  “You mentioned your security precautions before,” he said, tension stealing over him as they approached the door. “What new precautions have you put in place since the attack in Atlanta?”

  “None,” Angela said simply, waving her key fob at him. “Brace yourself.”

  Then she opened the door—

  And chaos exploded from every corner of the condo.

  Gregori instinctively started forward at the wild, frenetic, and mindlessly joyful rush of life force hurtling toward Angela, his hands going up to ward off the demon horde—only to jolt with surprise as the cacophony of beasts seemed to freeze midleap, then scrabble back, howling and yipping in sudden terror. He had a sense of fur flying, ears flapping, and hind legs churning as a quartet of dogs hurtled out of the room as quickly as they’d rocketed into it, scattering a secondary assault of furry creatures—a trio of cats that hissed, snarled, and jumped straight up off the floor, landing variously on a counter, an overstuffed chair, and a couch while the dogs raced away.

  And there, alone in the center of the room, staring up at Gregori with their paws tucked into their chests and their eyes as large as the world, were…

  “You have rats?” he asked, aghast.

  “Those aren’t rats! How dare you! They’re Teddy guinea pigs. Aren’t you, sweet things? How’d you get out of your cage again?”

  Throwing down her bag, Angela scooped something that looked like chopped-up weeds out of a glass dish on a side table and bent down as the furry-footed bean bags scurried across the floor. They nibbled at her fingers, which apparently was reason enough for the three cats to jump off their perches and head for Angela as well. The two grown cats immediately began twining around Angela’s legs while the third…

  Gregori froze as the miniature orange puffball batted at his pants leg. “What’s it doing to me? I’ll hurt it.”

  “Oh, you will not. That’s Ginger. She’s just a kitten, but she’s very fierce. And she has her claws, so be careful.” Angela stood with a large black-and-white cat in her arms, a
gray one rubbing her calf. “This is Domino, and Ghost here doesn’t come out much, but she clearly doesn’t mind you.”

  “I can’t say that for these idiots,” Joe called from the hallway, and Gregori and Angela turned. Sure enough, the four dogs hunkered back behind the perplexed security guard, whining and straining by his legs. “You got a thing against dogs, Gregori? Because you’re scaring the hell out of them.”

  Gregori grimaced. This didn’t seem to be a good time to bring up the age-old conflict between dogs and demons.

  “I’m big. It confuses them,” he finally said, but he murmured a benediction under his breath, a half-remembered blessing from the dawn of time that spoke to all God’s creatures. The whining stopped, and the boldest dog, a well-built medium-sized mix with a decided bounce to his step, scampered forward.

  “Well hello, Hey Mister! There’s a good boy,” Angela crooned, and that was all that was needed. The remaining three dogs scrambled out after their ringleader, and Domino leapt from Angela’s arms to avoid the canine assault. Then she and Ghost…ghosted.

  “Hey Mister—he’s a boxer mix, if you know your dogs,” Angela said, petting the dogs with a genuine smile. “Elvis is a sort of a hound cross, while Old Sir here is a sweet greyhound, obviously.” Her expression softened further as she stroked the tall, thin gray dog’s white muzzle. “And…well, I see you’ve met Hellboy.”

  “The cat…” Gregori gaped helplessly as the orange kitten pulled herself up onto his pants leg, suspended by her tiny claws. But then he realized she was no longer alone in her assault. Beneath her, waddling from foot to foot, stood a squat, long-eared brown dog who gazed up at him with incandescently adoring brown eyes, his tale whipping violently back and forth.

  Gregori looked from one animal to the next. “Hellboy?” he managed.

  “I know, he’s a dachshund, but it’s apparently his favorite movie. A local indie cinema manager brought him into the shelter after the little guy kept breaking into the late show, and I couldn’t resist. I think he likes you.”

  “Dogs don’t like me.”

  “Yeah, well, this one does,” Joe said, then turned to Angela. “Dogs are fed and walked, cats are fed, and the tribbles are…well, I threw some of that lettuce you’re supposed to eat as a salad at them, and then they got out of their cage again. I can’t believe you picked those two up. They’re escape artists. Messy escape artists.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Angela shot back with the air of someone continuing a long-standing argument, though Gregori had already lost sight of the guinea pigs. “Someone abandoned them in a cardboard box, right by the park. They would’ve gotten eaten.”

  “Yeah, yeah—hey!” Joe abruptly dove behind the couch, coming up with the two bean bags. “Back into the slammer, poop machines.” He carried the animals out of the room, cackling, then reappeared a minute later. He pointed at Gregori. “Yo, watch that one. She’s not quite litter trained yet. I’ll be next door.”

  “What?” Gregori plucked the orange ball of fur off his leg, jerking in surprise as she flipped and wrapped her front paws around his fingers. “No. Take them with you.”

  “No can do,” Joe chortled, heading for the front door. “Angela’s governor friend got this place to bend the rules to let her house this horde—though she pays handsomely for the privilege. But they’re only allowed in the condo or on the rooftop unless they’re in their crates. So you’re stuck with them, my man.” He slipped out of the condo, still laughing as he headed down the hallway.

  “I’ve got you, Ginger,” Angela said, unpeeling the cat from Gregori’s hand and toting her away. She left the room, the dogs following her—all except Hellboy, who remained at Gregori’s feet.

  Gregori sat in a wingback chair and scowled down at the dog.

  “You don’t like me,” he informed it. “Even with the blessing. Have some self-respect.”

  The dog flopped down and rolled over, arching its belly toward Gregori. When Gregori made no move toward it, it rolled back upright with a faint air of bruised feelings, but still didn’t leave his side.

  Gregori passed a hand over his eyes, trying to get his bearings. The rest of Angela’s security personnel were overseeing her rapidly expanding team, while he’d listened to her give her administrative staff enough work for a week on the drive over here. Even her spokesperson/chief-of-staff had more responsibilities than any single person could handle, tasked with media management both at the scene of Angela’s condo and at the hospital.

  So far, the media hadn’t gotten hold of the parent angle, but it was only a matter of time. They were well aware that people had been injured and rushed to the hospital to be set up in a secure ward, and the fact that Angela had recently been attacked made for a scintillating story. Someone would get the idea sooner or later to check on her parents, and it would all come out. The fact it hadn’t yet was a minor miracle.

  “Gregori.”

  Gregori looked up to find that Angela had returned, still in her business suit, though she’d loosened her ponytail. She regarded him with an intensity that would be unnerving in any creature, but triply so in a human. With the animals gone, her face was once again unreadable, and though Gregori’s empathic skills could pierce her barriers, the fact that he’d have to work to do so endlessly fascinated him. She was a complete enigma to him, and a dangerous one. His job depended on him knowing what to do next, but in Angela’s case, until he connected more deeply with her, he was at a loss. He’d started the process in the lobby—and had matched her story exactly when the police had questioned him—but he needed to finish it.

  Then she surprised him again by beating him to the punch.

  “I find I’m somewhat at a disadvantage in our relationship,” she said, her words calm and considered. “I’d like to remedy that.”

  Gregori hesitated. “A disadvantage?”

  “Yes.” She sat in the nearest chair, barely three feet away from him. He could feel the heat rising from her body, the unexpected scent of lavender and cinnamon playing havoc with his senses. He was too attuned to her already, too aware. And it was only going to get worse.

  “I need to know more about you,” she continued. “Who you are. What you are.”

  Gregori settled back. It appeared he wasn’t the only one getting more attuned. “What I am?”

  “Yes, what. You performed some sort of mind-meld with me downstairs, and I want to know what you did and how. I don’t believe in mutants, I don’t believe in science fiction, but I do believe I don’t understand everything about this world of ours. You’re someone I need to understand better. You’ve already saved my life once, and I suspect you’re going to have the opportunity to do so again.”

  It was a nice, tidy assessment, spoken in measured tones, but he’d watched the woman coo at an orange puffball and feed bits of parsley to walking floor pillows. He wasn’t buying the reserved veneer so much anymore. “It’s my job,” he said simply.

  “It wasn’t your job until a very short time ago, and your first opportunity to save my life happened before you were even officially employed.” She tilted her head, considering him. “I believe you’re an insightful strategist, a warrior by any description, and a man…though not an ordinary man…with extensive emotional depths. I think you’ll agree that those characteristics are not often found in the same individual. I think you’ll also agree that the events of the last several days have been highly unusual for me. I don’t often have the occasion to draw the interest of terrorists, nor do my parents. I also don’t often have the occasion to necessitate evasive maneuvers from my own government regarding said terrorist acts upon my parents. I think you would further agree, I’m distressed by these developments. To the extent I can find some measure of understanding of what your role is in all this, I believe I’ll be able to manage the developing situation with much greater success.”

  Throughout this meticulously worded speech, Angela’s face never changed. But as she fixed on a point over Gregori’s
shoulder, he watched her eyes. And, for perhaps the first time, allowed himself to truly reach out mentally to the woman sitting so carefully still in front of him.

  Pain. There was the swiftest flash of pain, a gossamer shimmer whisking out of sight almost as soon as he noticed it. There was anger too, bubbling rage that quaked beneath a barrier so thick that it would never explode outward on its own, never find a natural exit. A blur of other emotions roiled within that rage—hatred, bitter disappointment, and, of course, fear. But this fear had almost been calcified, a corked stone jug bobbing along in the frothing, spitting ocean. He wondered, briefly, what would happen if that jug would ever break, if it ever mixed in with all the rage, hatred, and disappointment that formed a stew around it.

  And even seeing all this, Gregori knew he still wasn’t grasping the full picture. Because he was afraid. Afraid that his own internal torrent was every bit as fragile and potentially lethal as Angela’s repressed emotions.

  Which made what he had to do next all the more dangerous. And here Angela was, practically opening the door for him.

  “What do you want to know, specifically?” he asked.

  She chuckled wryly, as if she knew she was asking the impossible but she didn’t know why. “I want to know the information that didn’t make it to your résumé,” she said. “I want to fully understand the skills you bring to the table—all of them—and I want to know why you’re here.”

  “To protect you,” Gregori said almost automatically, and Angela gave him that same sad smile once again.

  “I believe that’s true, in part,” she said. “I believe your charge is to keep me alive. However, I also believe that charge is ancillary to the real reason why you’re here, why you showed up at that stadium in Atlanta for what I suspect was the first monster truck rally you’ve ever seen in your life.”

  Gregori quirked his lips. “What, I’m not the monster truck rally type?”

  “On the contrary. You’re exactly the monster truck rally type. I simply can’t decide if you were chosen for this assignment because of that, or if it was just a happy coincidence for your employer. Because, let me be clear, I know this is an assignment for you. I appreciate it, because without that assignment, I’d very likely be dead or held in a circumstance that would be…”