Unholy Proposal (Unholy Inc Book 1)

by Misty Dietz

  He wasn’t sure if that made him feel more guilty or more irritable.

  Kat turned to the club promoter. “If hoochie mamas and pimp daddies are your invitees of choice, Mr. Ford, you may as well rip up that tidy little contract I had my assistant prepare for you because you’ll never work for Unholy Inc again,” she said.

  “Can I get an instant replay of yo’ cute little nose wrinkling while spitting out ‘hoochie mammas’ and ‘pimp daddies,’ please?” Eugene’s robust laugh caught the attention of all the bartenders.

  “Don’t annoy me. I’m running out of places to hide bodies,” Katherine rejoined.

  Eugene’s brown eyes widened. Nate hid his chuckle with a rough cough.

  “Ahh, shit. I’s just jerkin’ your chain, Lady K. Hey, you not even dressed up. It be Halloween, fine lady. Why you in this business if you’s all uptight?”

  When Katherine started tapping her strappy, pointy-toe stilettos, Nate felt the urge to hit the hills. “Silence is golden and duct tape is silver. Which color are you favoring this evening, Mr. Ford?” she asked.

  Eugene grabbed a white napkin from the shelf behind the u-bench and waved it in the air. “A’ight. You the boss, Lady K. You don’need me for any shit straight up, I go check with my girls. Gonna be the fuckin’ party of the century with DJ Immortalis, Dante and his Dead Enders band, and JBlaze’s booty call.”

  Nate’s spine straightened. Booty call?

  Eugene’s wert whirl whistle drew rebound cat calls from all three male bartenders while that scoundrel José pinched Jessie in the ass. The floor shifted so suddenly from Nate’s worked up Earth element, that he had to grab Katherine’s arm lest she fall. The quelling look she leveled on him had emasculated many a lesser man than he, but right now she could stuff it. She had no idea how close he was to firing one of their bartenders minutes before they opened.

  Do the right thing.

  Nate closed his eyes and breathed deep.

  “Bro, you gots some badass special effects goin’ on with that floor shakin’ like some hundred foot snake be slitherin’ right under our feet. High-five, motherfucker.” Eugene held up his hand, which Nate chose to ignore for the club promoter’s own welfare.

  Eugene dropped his hand. “Or not. See you later, dickhead, I mean, dude. Time to party hardy.”

  When Eugene moved out of earshot, Nate turned to Katherine, but she beat him to the punch.

  “I suggest you get your Neanderthal impulses under control, Guardian, or you’re going to miss important details this evening. You do remember why this network of nightclubs was started in the first place, do you not?”

  Yes, teacher, he wanted to bark back, but he was trying so hard to be considerate and well-mannered for Jessie’s sake. He respected—and dammit, even liked—most of his Unholy Inc partners, but that didn’t mean they had an easy alliance. Becoming a Guardian didn’t automatically make you a kinder, gentler version of your old self. On the contrary, you came back with all your psychological defects juiced up with special powers.

  And of course they’d been assholes in their previous existence, so what did they really expect?

  He still didn’t know why he’d thrown himself in front of a blade meant for a perfect stranger. It was a complete aberration from decisions he’d made before.

  What he did know was that this Guardian gig was a test. If he failed, he’d spend eternity in Hell.

  Yay for second chances.

  “Well, do you?”

  He blinked at Katherine, then remembered her question about why they’d started their business. “What do you think?” he threw back sarcastically.

  “I don’t know, Nate. When you act like an immature and over-stimulated adolescent, it makes me suspect you need a reminder.”

  Humans were generally at their most uninhibited state in nightclubs, and thus more vulnerable to demonic influence, not to mention possession. The nightclubs gave Guardians the unique opportunity to lure and deal with demons. It would be swell if all bars, lounges, and nightclubs in the world were Guardian-owned. But even then, human free will would still be a factor. The Guardians could never vanquish every demon.

  As it was since the beginning of time, the path of wickedness was so very tempting.

  Nate put an arm around Katherine. She stiffened in his arms before shrugging him away. It took all his power not to tease her. “I’m sorry, Kat. I promise to be a good little Guardian and watch out for monsters messing with all the innocents.”

  “You call me Kat one more time, and I’ll flood this dance floor with salt water one second after the last person exits the building.”

  Nate chuckled and held his hands up in a universal no-contest gesture. She’d do it and bring in man-eating sharks to boot. “My apologies, fair lady.”

  She straightened her suit jacket as they walked toward the hallway leading to the stairwell. “Have you tried reaching out to Alexios regarding Jessie healing your death wound?”

  “Not outright, but he’s touched my mind.”

  Katherine nodded. It was something Alexios did to all of them. Somehow he was able to gauge what was going on by telepathically reaching out. While all Guardians could communicate telepathically, no one else had that one-way ability of discernment that Alexios possessed.

  “Have you heard if he’s been able to locate Sophia yet?” Katherine asked quietly.

  “I don’t think so.” Both Guardians were silent for a time. In return for the valorous Spartan warrior’s sacrifice as the first Guardian, the Archangel Michael had promised that the love of Alexios’s life, Sophia, would return to him again and again, reincarnated through the ages.

  It must be an exquisite torture to watch your soul mate die over and over.

  Perhaps worse yet, to not be able to locate her, knowing she was alive somewhere and at great risk because demons the world over knew the lore of their abiding love story.

  Nate’s gaze found Jessie. If he were in Alexios’s shoes, he would be as relentless in his search for his compar as his leader was for Sophia.

  “I added an extra layer of wards to the building’s exterior after the exorcism,” Katherine said.

  Nate’s gaze returned to his partner. “Thank you.” Katherine’s wards were nearly as powerful as Alexios’s, and with the threat of the Seam opening soon, they’d need all the reinforcements they could muster. Thing was, the wards they used at the nightclubs were different. These weren’t protection wards that kept demons at bay. Rather, they worked to keep the monsters locked inside the club until they could be dealt with permanently.

  Setting wards on top of an exorcism, however, must have depleted Katherine considerably. Her jeweled, sea green eyes were now a faded blue. “Why don’t you take five in the sanctorum,” Nate suggested.

  “I’m in no mood to meditate.”

  He shouldn’t. Really. He knew he’d regret it, but…“Then I highly recommend lovemaking as a means to recharge. I’m quite certain Ari would be happy—”

  He sputtered and gagged as a surge of water blew him backwards against the wall. The attack only lasted a few seconds before he managed to manipulate the drywall around him like a caterpillar building a chrysalis.

  When he pushed out of the drywall cocoon, he saw two people at once.

  Katherine…and Jessie’s friend Dante.

  The Dead Enders’ band member stood twenty-five feet away, two large drum cases on the ground at his side. When he recovered from his shock, he grabbed his cases and stiffly walked out the back door.

  Blast. Nate sprinted to intercept the drummer before he started jabbering about the impossibility of what he’d witnessed. “Dante.”

  The drummer froze, but didn’t turn around. Other Dead Enders band members were getting their equipment unloaded from a small trailer hitched to Dante’s truck. Nate slowed, praying Dante kept it cool for two more minutes so he could get him alone for a mind wipe.

  “You guys go on and get shit set up, I gotta talk to Mr. Temple, eh?”


  Dante’s band mates nodded and called a greeting to Nate before leaving him and Dante alone. When Katherine slipped outside, Nate steepled his fingers to ramp up the mind wipe energy as he approached the drummer. “Dante, I’m so glad you accepted my invitation to play at tonight’s Grand Opening.”

  Dante watched Nate’s hands, then met his stare. “I always knew there was more out there than what most people believe about the world.”

  Nate froze. “What do you mean by that?”

  Dante’s smile faltered. “Ghosts, spirits, poltergeists…aliens.”

  Nate glanced back at Katherine who mirrored his humor, curiosity, and caution. “What do you think just happened?”

  “You’re not denying that those things exist?”

  How to answer? Dante might be testing him. “Not responding to a question is neither acknowledging the validity of the claim nor denying it. I’m asking what you think you observed moments ago.”

  “You and you,” Dante’s gaze swept over Katherine, “aren’t human. No human I know can manipulate wall pipes to spurt water or peel the fucking wall back to block such an impossible geyser.”

  “Nate.”

  Katherine wanted him to proceed with the mind wipe. He knew he should, and yet…

  “Shit!” Dante’s stance widened as though he was preparing for a possible ambush. “You’re going to make me forget, aren’t you?”

  “Nate.” Katherine moved to Nate’s side, intentionally pressuring him to get on with it.

  “My Noni practiced voodoo until she died. She still comes to visit me from the other side. She doesn’t mean for it to happen, but sometimes mean son of bitches cross over with her.” Dante took a deep breath and continued, “not too much scares me anymore, so believe me, I can live with what I saw and not squeal. What I can’t live with is having my memories taken away against my will, so be ready for a fight.”

  Interesting. Nate could count on one hand the number of humans who were able to deal with scary shit like that. “If I wipe your mind, you won’t have any awareness of it. Your life will go on as before, undisturbed.”

  “I don’t know who or what you are, but if you disrespect human life enough to rape their minds, you should go back to wherever you came from. The Earth’s already full of lowlifes.”

  Katherine glanced at her watch. “Fifteen minutes until the doors open.”

  Nate pitched his voice as placid as possible. “How many humans do you think can live peacefully with this type of knowledge? Mind wiping is an act of kindness, not a violation. We don’t touch or look at anything in your memories besides the supernatural acts you witnessed.”

  Dante paled a little. “What are you?”

  “Nate, this is absurd!”

  He turned to Katherine. “Go inside and see to your health. You know where the key to the sanctorum is.”

  Katherine suddenly looked more exhausted than he’d ever seen her. She put a hand on his arm. “Please. We’ve worked too hard to drop our guards now.”

  She was referring to all the years of sustained effort it had taken to build the Unholy Inc clubs into the successful enterprises they’d become. But really, she had nothing to worry about. TERRA was opening on schedule. “You’re just tired. Trust me, I can handle this. After tonight, you’ll see light at the end of the tunnel.”

  Katherine sighed and walked to the back door hugging her arms against the chilly, fall air. At the door, she looked back. “I hope you’re right, Nate. But sometimes that light in the tunnel is an oncoming train.”

  Chapter 19

  Three hours into the wildly successful opening night, Jessie winked at a departing Elvis impersonator who’d left her a twenty-dollar tip. She glanced up at the mirrored glass of Nate’s office, adding a dash of grenadine to a Blazin’ Apple Martini, one of her signature drinks. Was he upstairs watching the dance floor crowded with sweaty monsters and skimpily clad sirens?

  She’d thought—okay, hoped—that he’d spend a good share of the evening within eyeshot. Not that she needed help or wanted him sitting smack in front of her, but she wanted to tell him how much she appreciated her set-up. This bar was a total dream, with each of the mixologists having their own stations with ice makers, individual soda and liquor guns, garbage cans, speed rails up front with the most common spirits used in mixed drinks, and—thank you, God—their own cash registers. Best of all, there was a separate station for waitresses and runners to pour their own beers and wine, so the bartenders could focus on their liquor art.

  Mostly, though, she wanted him around because she enjoyed having him around.

  Ugh. That doesn’t sound needy at all.

  He was responsible for the safety and welfare of the five hundred imbibing customers. Of course he had a thousand things to attend to instead of mooning at her while she juggled cherries and martini glasses.

  “JBlaze! When you gonna get yo’ sweet ass up on them rails, sugar?”

  Jessie looked over at Eugene, the club promoter who didn’t spare her the courtesy of eye contact before shoving his head in a young coed’s cleavage. In between classes and spending time with Nate this week, Jessie had managed to catch up with a few of her uncle’s previous employees. Based on those brief conversations, Eugene seemed the likeliest candidate for bringing the drugs into Mason’s club.

  Her uncle had been aware of the illegal activities and did nothing to stop them.

  How many people had he hurt by turning a blind eye? It was so disappointing.

  Earlier this afternoon, Mason’s sometime girlfriend Sonja had reached out, saying Mason hadn’t returned her calls for a couple days. She worried he was having a breakdown. Was it due to drugs or a chemical imbalance? Her uncle obviously needed an intervention. Maybe rehab? Jessie’s shoulders dropped. Gramma and Grandpa would be devastated. It was like her mother’s situation all over again.

  First things first. Find Mason and make sure he wasn’t hurting himself or anyone else. She wanted to talk to Nate, too, because she trusted his insights. She would go from there and hope she didn’t have to involve law enforcement, but she would if she had to.

  Receiving a drink order from a server, Jessie reached once more for the Goldschlager, unable to tear her eyes from the scene in front of her as Eugene raised his glass in a toast to those gathered around him. For some reason it brought to mind the Bible passage etched on the aged fireplace mantle in Nate’s special room:

  You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons; you cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons.

  A shiver passed through her. Eugene turned her way in slow motion, his eyes morphing to slits of a glowing, repellent yellow. His lips retracted in a snarl to reveal a mouthful of dagger-like teeth, the black plastic spiders above his head quavering as though awakening from a long slumber.

  The Goldschlager bottle slipped from her fingers to shatter on the floor. She felt the cool wetness of the liquor all the way up her thin socks, smelled the bold tang of cinnamon, and heard blood rushing in her ears, shutting off even the heavy bass of Dante’s band on the stage.

  Suddenly weightless, she pushed at a solid chest. “Put me down, José!”

  When he placed her atop the counter, she glanced back at Eugene.

  All was normal.

  No yellow eyes. No mouthful of tiger teeth. No vibrating spider web. The club promoter was merely a man in a perverted doctor’s lab coat, smiling and drinking amid a circle of laughing women.

  Then he looked over once more and winked. Her breath came out in a quaking rush. Jessie swallowed with difficulty. How silly she was being. How utterly ridiculous. The Halloween decorations were influencing her imagination. Clearly, this week’s lack of sleep was catching up to her.

  But she could sleep all she wanted next week.

  Alone.

  She closed her eyes, determined to push loneliness and thoughts of intervention aside until tomorrow. Her eyes snapped opened when someone’s hand groped her breast, but almost immediatel
y the offender was lifted from his stool and escorted out of the club by Nate’s head of security, Dorian.

  Why couldn’t Nate come to her rescue instead of José and Dorian?

  A hot tide of shame filled her. She was acting clingy and insecure and purposeless. The next thing she knew she was going to start crying like a spoiled brat who’d had her candy plucked away. How could she be an example for the downtrodden if she couldn’t even pick herself up from the weight of her emotions?

  Maybe a mood disorder thing ran in her family after all.

  “You gonna get back to work, Blaze, or you gonna sit there all night looking tasty and gettin’ the men riled up enough to get their asses kicked out the club?” The other mixologist, Drake, tossed a bottle up in the air, caught it, and poured a shot with his unique flair. José wheeled the mop bucket to the edge of the bar where a member of the kitchen staff retrieved it.

  Jessie slid off the counter. She’d clean José’s station later, since he’d tidied up her Goldschlager mess. She’d have a few more messes to deal with shortly, but she would do it on her own like she always had.

  A girl didn’t climb out of a dumpster only to fold at the first prick of hardship.

  “Yo, Jessie, I need two Blazin’ Heat Moonshines and one Legal Brief with three cherries, please!”

  Jessie nodded at the sleek, cat-suited server, grateful for the order. Grateful to have created something people enjoyed even if it was only sweet-tasting liquid courage. When she placed the last drink on the server’s tray, she glanced toward the stage. She smiled and started to wave in greeting to Dante, but his hands holding the drumsticks had frozen, pausing mid-song, staring at someone or something in the crowd so intently it made her stomach drop.

  Jessie’s gaze rapidly scanned the faces below Dante, trying to identify who or what was affecting him so keenly, but the dance floor was too crowded and half the faces were covered with costume paint or a mask.

  Dante had always been a rock amid sifting sands in her life. Not much rattled him. Not giving up an MIT scholarship so he could help his sister build her motorcycle repair business after their parents’ death. Nor being wrongly convicted and spending a year of his life behind bars in place of one of his buddies, so his friend could stay home and care for his dying wife.