Hot Demon in the City (Latter Day Demons Book 1)

by Suttle, Connie

  "Damn, dude, you got some chops for a rat shifter," I declared. I was bigger, faster and stronger than any human or shifter, yet he'd gotten in a few punches. Snark Demonio deserved his nickname and reputation.

  "I hope Farin sees the same thing, instead of thinking I'm vermin."

  "If she loves you, she'll never think anything of the sort."

  "I don't know how to tell her," he added.

  "Be honest and show her," I suggested. "Just make sure she doesn't scream at the sight of, well, the normal version. Make her understand that beneath the furry exterior, you're still you."

  "Are you still you—beneath the scales?" his eyes met mine.

  "One hundred percent. I'm just extra dangerous, that's all."

  "How much can you bench press when you're like that?"

  "You've only seen the smaller version," I pointed out.

  "There's a bigger version?"

  "Yeah. If you see that one anytime, somebody's gonna die."

  "Is there a reason for me to be scared of you?" Tiburon asked.

  "None," I shrugged. "Unless you decide to go into business with Granger."

  "Pedazo de mierda, that one," Tiburon hissed.

  "Agreed," I said. He'd called Granger a piece of shit. I was okay with that description, although I had others that would fit just as well. "You know I'm looking for him, don't you?"

  "I understand this, after he sends bounty hunters after you."

  "Anybody who shoots at me and blows up my car better be ready for the consequences," I said.

  "If you need help that I can give," Tiburon shrugged.

  "I'll remember that. If you need help convincing Farin, let me know. I'll do what I can."

  "Thank you. I will remember that."

  * * *

  I wondered what to do with myself after skipping back to the safe house in Petaluma. I hated daytime television, wasn't hungry after my lunch with Tiburon and was already bored after ten minutes wandering around the house.

  Mason was asleep in a darkened room; too bad, I'd have asked him what he'd heard from Davis and Thomas the night before. That's when my cell phone rang. It was Watson. I thought about not answering—after all, he could probably give me good information as to Claudia and Granger's whereabouts, he just hadn't done it.

  "What?" I said, instead of hello.

  "Dude, I need to see you. Like now."

  "About what?"

  "Somebody ran a light and hit Lexsi's car, man. You need to come."

  "Is she hurt?" I was striding toward the door while I spoke.

  "She wasn't in it. I was—I borrowed it. Dude, you need to get here fast. I'm about to lose it."

  "Where the hell are you?" I demanded.

  "At the corner of Comper and Parley." He named an intersection not far from the Tooth and Nail.

  "I'll be there in a minute," I snapped and ended the call. Was he acting as bait so more of Granger and Claudia's hit men could take aim at me?

  I decided to play it safe and skip to the top of a nearby building. That way, I could determine whether an accident really happened, or if it were a trap.

  The scene when I arrived was exactly as Watson described—I just imagined it wrong. The SUV that hit Lexsi's TinyCar looked like an accordion, while the TinyCar didn't show a scratch.

  Firefighters called to the scene were attempting to cut the other driver and his passenger out of the SUV while Watson paced on the sidewalk, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was about to lose it, and I could see why.

  The SUV was larger, heavier and should have obliterated the TinyCar. If the laws of physics had applied, the smaller, lighter vehicle should have been sent sailing. It wasn't. It stopped right where it was hit, in the middle of the intersection.

  Several witnesses were gathered on the sidewalk, too; I imagined more than one of them had called 9-1-1, because an ambulance was on the way. I could hear the siren coming closer the longer I examined the scene from my high perch.

  "Fuck," I growled before I skipped into an empty alley and walked out of it. Watson smelled me before he saw me; his head jerked in my direction. He looked like a man who'd nearly died, only to find his salvation walking toward him.

  "What the hell happened?" I mumbled as I stopped beside him.

  "I don't know. I saw things, man. Things that don't make any sense."

  "Things?"

  "Well, people. One person. Woman."

  "Who?"

  "I don't know, man. Never saw her before."

  "When?"

  "After the car was hit."

  "A witness?"

  "No, man. Look, I don't know how to explain this."

  "Are those two all right? The ones who hit you?"

  "I don't think so. I smell death."

  "But they ran the light," I pointed out. "They're in the wrong."

  "They're werewolf," Watson hissed. "I think they've been following the car. I don't know whether they thought Lexsi was in it, or knew I was."

  If they hadn't been dead already, I might have turned and killed them, in front of street cameras and a multitude of witnesses. "Answer questions for the police, then I'll get us out of here, TinyCar included." I didn't attempt to hold back the breaths of smoke that clouded the space between Watson and me.

  "Please don't turn," Watson whispered. "I want to, too, and we don't need anybody seeing that."

  "Hmmph." I blew more smoke. I wasn't going to explain to Watson on the street that I'd turned the night before and walked into the Tooth and Nail with Mason. Those werewolves should be following me, not Lexsi or Watson.

  Thoughts of calling Lexsi to let her know about the car went through my mind, but I ignored them. Watson would have to tell her—after he told me about his unusual experience.

  He probably had been knocked unconscious during the hit and imagined the woman. Still, I intended to listen carefully to what he said.

  The TinyCar shouldn't have survived, after all, and Watson should have been the one cut out of it, instead of those two in the SUV. Nothing about this wreck made any sense.

  It took more than an hour for Watson to tell his side of the story—that he'd been driving along when the SUV ran the light and slammed into him. Witness accounts backed up his statement, so the officers took his information and asked if he wanted a ride to the hospital.

  He turned them down while both of us watched dead werewolves in human form being loaded into the back of the ambulance. They were on their way to the morgue and were completely covered by sheets.

  So far, not a single person had walked out of Tooth and Nail and I wondered at that, too.

  Still, I felt eyes on us; if Claudia or anybody inside the bar knew it was Lexsi's vehicle, they now knew Watson was connected to her in some way because he was driving it.

  Unless Watson had been their intended target.

  I very much doubted that, although he'd made a target of himself, merely by driving her car.

  "You're not taking this car back to Lexsi's," I said as Watson and I walked toward the TinyCar. I hoped it would start; it had been hit really hard and could still be damaged.

  It started right up after I folded my frame into the front seat. I was surprised my head didn't scrape the top; it turned out to be roomier than I thought.

  Putting the car in gear, I maneuvered around broken glass and the SUV's front bumper, which had crumpled and fallen off. A wrecker was backing up to pull the vehicle onto a trailer; it had sustained too much damage to be towed anywhere.

  "Did you know either of those werewolves?" I asked after we'd driven several blocks.

  "No, man. Neither were from the local Pack. Where are we going?" He thought to ask.

  "To see a couple of friends," I pulled out my cell. Yes, I broke the law by talking on the phone while driving. I told Davis when he answered my call that I wanted Lexsi's car gone over, in case there was a location device planted.

  He gave me the address of a local garage and hung up.

  * * * />
  Lexsi

  Lunch with Farin was late; I ended up doing research for Hannah that she could have done herself. If it had been up to her, she'd have forced me to go without lunch. Lee sent me out the door before Hannah could call my name again; already it was two o'clock and I was really hungry by that time.

  "So, what's wrong with Rick?" I asked.

  Farin and I sat in a sandwich shop that was usually filled to capacity at lunchtime. Since it was after two, the crowd had thinned out.

  "He forgot Mom's cell phone number. I had to tell him it was on his phone."

  "Why would he forget that?" I asked. "Has he hit his head or something? Is he still really stressed over the condo bombing and Mike's disappearance?"

  "I didn't think so, but maybe he kept it all inside until this happened." Farin tossed out a hand in frustration. "We're supposed to have dinner with our parents this weekend. If he's still acting like this, they'll worry."

  "You think somebody contacted him about Mike?" I asked. "Like Davis and Thomas said they might?"

  "I don't know," Farin moaned. "Nobody tried to contact me."

  "He's their first target," I said. "If they can get to him, then they don't need anybody else. Mike must have some special information for them to go as far as they have."

  "I wish we could talk to Mike," Farin sighed. "Rick would probably feel a lot better."

  "It could place all of us in more danger," I reminded her. "We have enough worries as it is."

  "He keeps talking about Mike anyway," Farin said. "Maybe if you talked to Rick, he'd listen to you."

  "I don't know whether that would help at all," I said. I recalled that I hadn't actually seen Rick in two days, although I knew he was still staying at the house. "Anyway, I have to make cinnamon rolls and cookies tonight after I get home. I promised George and Lee some treats for tomorrow."

  "I'll help," she offered.

  "Good. You can bake cookies while I'm making dough for cinnamon rolls."

  * * *

  Anita, I sent, Rick may have an obsession, or something else may be wrong with him.

  I can check when I get home, she replied. What's he doing?

  Farin says he's acting weird. He forgot their mother's phone number, when it was on his phone the whole time. Things like that. She says he keeps talking about Mike. That he wants to talk to Mike.

  That's classic obsession, she said. He's been ordered to squash his love for his family, in addition to other things, most likely. Part of that, of course, is telling the enemy exactly where we are. It's an old trick to get someone to betray family.

  What can we do about it? Anything?

  He needs to be removed from anyone he might harm. My guess is that he came in contact with one of my kind, in a completely innocent setting. I doubt a waiter or a fan on the street would have raised suspicions of the agents tailing him.

  Yeah. But what are we going to do? Somebody probably knows where the house is.

  I suggest you call your friends as soon as you can. We may need a safe house, just like Kory.

  I can't make cinnamon rolls at a safe house.

  Your choice. Either way, we need to get Rick away from Farin—and the rest of us, too.

  Lee says the jerk producer from the LA station who used to be Hannah's boss is coming to take his place on Monday.

  I heard that, too. Look, gotta go. I'll see you at home tonight, and we'll decide what to do then.

  All right.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  Kory, I wish you could hear me, Lexsi mindspoke me, her mental voice anguished. I think Rick has been obsessed. So does Anita. I don't know what to do. I don't want to leave the house, but the people hunting us may already know where it is.

  Watson and I stood inside the waiting area at an FBI facility, answering questions for Davis and Thomas while two people from their agency went over Lexsi's car.

  "Look, I didn't recognize the woman at all. She may have been an apparition, for all I know," Watson declared.

  "What did she look like? What did she tell you?" Davis asked, his voice calm. He knew, just as I did, that the approaching full moon left a werewolf agitated enough. Something like this jacked those feelings to a dangerous level.

  "She had long, dark hair. I swear, she glowed, too—there was a light around her. She said the car and the house were protected. I have no idea what that means."

  "Perhaps it was your brain, making an excuse for the car withstanding any damage," Thomas suggested.

  I gritted my teeth at Lexsi's message and almost didn't stop myself from answering her. "I sure as hell hope you're right about the house and the car," I hissed as I stood. "Lexsi says Rick has been compromised in some way. If he stays in that house with her, and if anything happens to her," I didn't finish.

  "What's this?" Davis was on his feet and pointing me toward the door.

  That meant I was compelled to explain mindspeech, and that Lexsi had no idea I could hear hers. Either way, something had to be done about Rick.

  "Hang on," Davis said. I watched him pull his cell phone from a pocket and select a contact number. "Hey, boss," he said when someone answered. "We have a problem. Kory says Rick Armstrong has been obsessed and may be dangerous. Any suggestions?"

  Since my ears weren't sharp enough to hear the person on the other end, I waited in silence while Davis listened. "We can arrange that," Davis finally said. "It'll solve our problem for now, anyway." He listened again. "Yeah, they'll be looking for him, just like they're looking for Mike. Too bad we still can't get anything from Mike. It could crack this whole case."

  Davis turned his back to me for the last bit of conversation. "Yeah, I'll make sure that gets done, too. It may force their hand on a few things. Thanks, boss." He ended the call before turning back to me.

  "We have work to do," he said and strode toward the waiting room door.

  * * *

  I wasn't asked to participate, but Davis and Thomas arranged for three agents, in full disguises, to abduct Rick Armstrong from News Eighty-Two's parking lot after he got off work at midnight.

  The other thing they'd arranged happened the following day; an exclusive from News Eighty-Two (besides Rick's abduction). The station had received video of field reporter Hannah Tilton meeting Deputy Coroner Jeremy Rollins at a downtown hotel.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  Rick never made it home the night before. Farin was distraught until I got the call from Davis, saying they had Rick and that he'd be kept safe until the case was solved. Somehow, they'd heard something concerning his safety and moved in before the enemy could attack.

  I felt better about the whole thing immediately; Davis said he was increasing security around the house so I shouldn't worry.

  I also learned that Watson wrecked the TinyCar; Davis explained that it was in the shop, so they were providing a replacement vehicle for me and another for Watson.

  That's why Farin stayed home after her brother's supposed abduction and the rest of us gathered in the breakroom for cinnamon rolls and cookies as a sendoff for Lee. I'd made sure to give George a separate box when I arrived, so he could take it home to his family.

  In the middle of Lee's farewell speech to the staff, an intern ran in, babbling something about breaking news at Eighty-Two. A monitor was switched on and we all gaped as images of Hannah's tryst with Jeremy Rollins at a downtown hotel were shown, while the day anchor spoke about secrets divulged, an employee kidnapped and missing evidence at the jail connected to the Coroner's Office.

  Hannah hadn't arrived yet; I wondered if she knew. None of us could take our eyes off the screen as the images of Hannah kissing Jeremy outside a hotel room door was shown repeatedly.

  "Deputy Coroner Rollins has been suspended with pay until this investigation is concluded. Our calls to Hannah Tilton have not been returned."

  "And Seventy-Four gets a black eye on my last day at work," Lee sighed and turned off the monitor. "Food is delicious, Lexsi. May I s
ee you in my office?"

  I followed Lee out of the breakroom, wondering what he wanted. I found out the moment he shut the door.

  "Come with me," he said. "You don't want to stay here while everybody else drowns in this scandal."

  "I want to," I replied. "I just can't do it yet."

  "Lexsi, anybody who looks at your resume in the future is going to ask about the Hannah Tilton thing. You're her assistant. They'll assume you knew something. News stations don't want to be associated with anything like this. Quit now and I promise you'll have a job at Eighty-Two. Stay here, even for a month, and the taint may prevent the execs from allowing me to hire you."

  "You think the Romes will fire Hannah?" I snorted. "I don't think you understand. There's something going on, here, and I intend to find out what it is."

  "What do you have?" Lee took a seat at his desk and studied me.

  "Nothing I can substantiate at the moment. As I said, I intend to uncover this."

  "Here," he pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to me. "If you need an outlet to report your findings."

  He already had business cards for his new job at Eighty-Two. "I'll let you know," I took the card and turned to leave.

  "Silver," Lee said quietly.

  My hand stopped turning the doorknob. "What?" I didn't turn to look at him.

  "You're the best rookie I've seen during my thirty years in the business."

  "Thank you," I said and opened the door.

  * * *

  I couldn't tell Lee that all my research skills and thirst for getting to the bottom of an apparent mystery could be traced back to Master Morwin, my Amterean Dwarf tutor. He'd taught me to think for myself and made me want to delve deeper into my assignments.

  I left him behind when I went to the private college on Wyyld II. Admission there was reserved for the children of Kings, Queens, diplomats, presidents and anyone else highly placed in Alliance government. I'd graduated with highest honors, thanks to Master Morwin's teachings.

  My continued thirst for the why and how of things had stood me in good stead as a rookie journalist. I hoped those skills continued to serve me as I attempted to solve the deepening mystery around me.