Fury of the Demon kg-6

by Diana Rowland

  “Blackmail,” Paul told me with a wink.

  I smiled, even more pleased about the decision to get Sonny out. These men were obviously friends as well as coworkers, and now I saw that another layer of tension had peeled away from Bryce and Paul. Leave no man behind, I thought with satisfaction.

  After another few minutes, Mzatal stepped back, and Sonny lost the good-drugs look.

  “How do you feel?” I asked as Mzatal returned to his position behind me.

  “Okay, I guess,” Sonny said, though he didn’t seem very certain of it.

  “Now think about leaving Farouche’s employment.”

  Fear flickered in his eyes for an instant in pure ingrained reflex, then his mouth dropped open. “That’s . . . impossible.”

  “It’s normal,” I corrected.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Bryce added.

  “Now for part two,” I said. “And I’m sorry to forge ahead so quickly, but we’re hoping you can help us.” I gave him a second to acknowledge with a nod. “Bryce says you’re taking care of Angela Palatino.”

  “I am. She’s at the plantation.” He flinched, as if expecting lightning to strike him for saying something so directly against Farouche’s interests then visibly forced himself to relax.

  “She’s the mother of Idris Palatino, a friend of ours,” I told him, “and she’s being held as hostage to help ensure his cooperation.”

  His mouth twisted. “I had a feeling it was something like that. Orders were to treat her well and tell her nothing.”

  I leaned forward. “Here’s the kicker,” I said. “We have reason to believe Idris will be brought to the plantation within the next two days. Do you know anything about that?”

  Sonny pursed his lips, then tipped his wrist to check his watch. “Nigel Fox and Mystery Man Twenty-two were supposed to land about half an hour ago at a private strip not far from the plantation.” He glanced back up. “Escorting a package. That could be your Idris.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathed as Mzatal’s intensity flared behind me like summer heat off pavement. And Mystery Man Twenty-two is Aaron Asher. My pulse thudded in a mixture of shock, excitement, and victory. It’s not a victory yet, I reminded myself. Not even close. We didn’t even know if the package was really Idris.

  I forced myself to chill. “That leads right in to what I have to ask you. However, I want to be totally clear right up front: You can absolutely say no. We won’t coerce or guilt trip you.”

  The skin around Sonny’s eyes tightened. “Say no to what?”

  “We have a couple of plans,” I said. “One of them,” and the best one, I added silently, “needs someone on the inside to help us.” I watched him carefully. I was basically asking him to walk into a dragon’s lair and punch the dragon in the balls.

  He went still, barely breathing. For a good ten seconds he let that sink in before he stood up, eyes on Bryce and gave a head jerk away from the table. Bryce slid a glance to me then retreated about twenty feet away with Sonny. Paul seemed oblivious to their departure, his attention fully on his tablet, earbuds in, and his eyes with the familiar distant and glazed look that said he was in deep.

  Mzatal shifted behind me and murmured, “Sonny Ortiz can be manipulated to cooperate fully.”

  I actually considered it for about two seconds. It would be so damn easy. “No, Boss. He can’t.” I sighed and glanced back at him. “We’d be no different than Farouche. If Sonny doesn’t agree to do it, we’ll find another way.” I understood why he proposed it. Manipulation was a tool at his disposal, one that would bring him closer to Idris, but I made sure my views and feelings about this were easy for him to read. And, to his credit, I felt Mzatal receive my input and accept it. Good enough for now.

  Yet I had to control a shiver at the reminder of how dangerous the lords could be to humans. An instant later, I felt Mzatal’s hand on my shoulder. He was willing to resist those ingrained patterns of demonic lord behavior, at least in this moment. I covered his hand with my own, deeply appreciating that he made the effort.

  “It’s him!” Paul looked up from the tablet and gave a triumphant smile. “Sonny’s right. Idris came in with Fox and Asher. Both of Big Mack’s jets are in their hangars, so I broadened the scope. Found a Gulfstream G650 belonging to a business associate of B.M.’s that landed at the private strip half an hour ago. No video, but I caught Idris’s name in a phone call. He’s at the plantation.”

  I stared for a second, processing not only the confirmation of our suspicion, but the magnitude of Paul’s talent. “You have successfully kicked all the ass,” I said. “Hot damn. That seals it.”

  Paul grinned, then glanced over at Bryce and Sonny as they returned to the table. Sonny still looked dazed, but there was a determined set to his mouth. Bryce met my eyes and gave a slight nod.

  The two sat again, and Sonny cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “I can do it. I need to do it.”

  I drew breath to respond, even as Paul whooped and shot to his feet.

  “You’re the best, Sonny!” he exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. “All you have to do is go to the server room by the security station and disconnect my firewall of doom from behind the third rack of servers and plug in a dongle I have all ready to go. Then I can run all sorts of interference, kill their comms, and totally rule the plantation so Lord Mzatal can come in blazing!”

  I fought back a grin at Paul’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, what he said.”

  But Sonny’s expression grew more serious. “There’s something weird with that room since yesterday,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “The door’s closed, and I get queasy if I look at it too long.”

  My brief euphoria slipped away. “Shit,” I muttered. “It’s been warded. Sonny, you won’t be able to get in there.” I drummed my fingers on the table as I considered our plans and the giant gaping holes that now appeared in them. “As it stands now, Mzatal can’t go in because the alarm would be raised and Angela would get a gun to her head, but if Paul can get his doogle—”

  “Dongle,” he corrected.

  I snorted. “If Paul can get his dongle to the server room, then he can shut their comms and alarm down and all sorts of other good stuff. But it looks like only someone with the ability to remove wards can get into the server room.” I smiled tightly. “I think that leaves me.”

  Sonny grimaced. “Easier said than done. First you have to get onto the plantation grounds, which isn’t even remotely easy. Fenced perimeter, surveillance, the works. And even if you manage that, then you need to look as if you’re supposed to be there for long enough to do the thing to the server room. Problem is, it’s in the main house, and everyone knows everyone else. Not like you can pretend to be a new hire or something.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for taking Mr. Farouche down, but—”

  “Paul tracked your car today,” Bryce interrupted, eyes bright and expression determined. “You made a forty-three minute stop at the residence of Amaryllis Castlebrook and then staked out her workplace. You prepping for a grab?”

  I swung my attention to Bryce, surprised and thoroughly impressed by the tidbit of information and follow-through. Though Mzatal said nothing, I felt his focus intensify as he read the two men’s nuances faster and with greater clarity than they could speak.

  “It’s scheduled for tonight,” Sonny said, then comprehension dawned on his face only an instant behind my own.

  “You take me instead,” I breathed. Damn I loved my posse.

  “Everything’s easier now,” Bryce said, voice rich with satisfaction.

  Sonny looked off into the distance, no doubt running through the possibilities. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It could work.”

  An ugly thought wormed into my mind. “Sonny, is Rhyzkahl at the compound now? Or has he been there since yesterday?” I couldn’t unwind the wards if he’d set them.

  At Sonny’s puzzled look, Bryce clarified, “Mega-Fabio.”

  “No,” he sa
id. “He hasn’t been around for a few months. But I suspect he’s coming back.” Anger deepened the lines in his face. “Rumor has it that’s who this pickup is for.”

  My mouth curved into a tight and cold smile. “Even more perfect. When are you supposed to grab her?”

  “Tonight, between nine and ten as she leaves a cocktail party at Bimini Bay restaurant in Villafleur—about an hour from here,” he said. “First night of a corporate training seminar being held at the hotel down the street.” He shrugged, then exhaled. “Take her tonight, and she won’t be missed for two days.”

  Bryce glanced at me. “Abductees are always brought in at night,” he explained.

  Sonny nodded in agreement. “And any bad shit happens indoors, away from prying satellite eyes.”

  “Nice to know Farouche has a solid business plan,” I said with a snort. “We’ll ask Ryan and Zack to collect Amaryllis before the party and get her to a safe house.”

  “Sonny, who’s with you?” Bryce asked.

  Distaste touched his mouth. “Jerry.”

  Jerry. The one Bryce said loved his job and didn’t lose sleep at night over it. The one who brought Amber to be raped and murdered. “Does Jerry or anyone else know what Amaryllis looks like?” I asked. “It’ll be pointless to try and sub for her if it’s obvious I’m not the mark.”

  Sonny peered at me. “Jerry’s expecting a blond twenty-something,” he said. “With a good wig you’d pass for her well enough. Plus, I’d bring you in hooded, and no one will check since no one crosses Mr. Farouche.” He paused, then shifted, his face coloring slightly. “But, ah, the other girl is more, um . . .” His flush deepened as he gestured vaguely with both hands.

  “Endowed?” I offered, hiding my amusement at his discomfort.

  “Yeah. Curvy.” He winced. “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool.” I grinned. “In fact it’s perfect. Now I have a place to hide my weapons.”

  Chapter 37

  Plans and preparations for the infiltration and raid on the plantation could have easily turned into pure chaos and been doomed to failure from the start, but Bryce took firm charge with an uncompromising hand. Even Mzatal deferred to his judgment, to my surprise and relief. Within two hours of leaving the Nature Center, and with the help of Paul, Ryan, and Zack, we had maps and satellite imagery, a communication system, and all sorts of other gear that I never would have thought we’d need but suddenly realized that yes, we most certainly did.

  And, most of all, we had a plan. Sonny and I: infiltrate and get me to the server room for the dongle-thing. Paul: take down comms and security. Mzatal: strip the wards and burn through the fence. Sonny and Bryce: Rescue Angela Palatino and get her through the fence and off the property. Zack and Ryan: watch our backs. Everyone: Do whatever is needed to Acquire Idris.

  At about seven p.m. Zack arrived at the house bearing a wig, dress, shoes, and appropriate padding for my role as Amaryllis. I immediately fell in love with the dress, and silently promised myself that after all of this was over I’d have it tailored to fit my normal not-as-curvy figure. Alluring without being slutty, it had a gathered bodice and a side-slit skirt—both of which would allow me plenty of freedom of movement. Most importantly, it came with a sheer and clinging black lace top that slipped over the dress and covered every inch of the sigil scars without reducing the allure level one bit. I didn’t even mind that the sleeves of the lace top were a bit too small. Muscles, I thought with a grin. I gots ’em.

  It took me damn near a half an hour to get the dress and my pseudo-curves adjusted properly to accommodate and hide my little Keltec .32 in a slim thigh holster, but I eventually achieved concealment, along with a voluptuous look I doubted I’d ever be able to achieve by natural means. That accomplished, Paul, Zack, and Eilahn continued to load me up with other necessary equipment. My watch doubled as a GPS tracker, I had a backup tracker shoved somewhere around my right boob, and beneath the left was Paul’s dongle. And yes, I giggled every time I thought about Paul’s dongle. Finally, Eilahn and Zack double-teamed me to get the wig and makeup just right, then stepped back so I could see the result in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

  “Wow,” I said. Then said it again. “Wow.”

  I didn’t look anything like me. The woman in the mirror was sweet and curvy and harmless, with an almost-shy smile on rosebud lips, and honey-blond hair that somehow gave her grey eyes an interesting hazel tinge.

  “Kara,” Eilahn said, eyes on me. I jerked my gaze away from the reflection and stepped away so I couldn’t see it anymore.

  “Yes.” I’m Kara. It was a reflection. Black dress and lace sleeves, wig and shoes and all. The woman in the mirror wore a ring with a cracked stone—

  I shook my head sharply. No, Kara wore that ring. I wore that ring. I looked down at it on my hand. Amaryllis would never wear a ring like this. Too bold, too unique. But Kara would. Cracked stone and all, because the ring and the stone and the crack held a meaning that couldn’t possibly be conveyed in mere words.

  I looked back up at them. “I’m ready.”

  Eilahn exchanged a quick glance with Zack, then returned her attention to me. “No, you are not,” she said firmly, gripped my upper arm, and walked me to the back of the house.

  “What the hell?” I asked, baffled.

  Mzatal stepped onto the porch as Eilahn escorted me through the back door. “The containment,” she stated, which was apparently all the information Mzatal required.

  “Oh,” I said, voice small. Shit. I hadn’t even realized.

  “Zharkat,” he murmured as he lifted a hand to my cheek. I felt the conflict within him, felt him waver in his willingness to risk me for the sake of Idris.

  “Boss.” I squared my shoulders and shoved aside the gnawing worry. “It’s my choice to go do this. Idris is my family.” Whether by blood or not, the truth of it remained. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t even try. You can reinforce the containment, right?”

  He exhaled. “I can.” His thumb stroked across my cheek. “And now I have.”

  I smiled, took his hand and laid a kiss in his palm. “Then we’re all good. As soon as we have Idris, we’ll take our asses back to the demon realm, and you and Elofir can fix this shit right up.”

  “So we shall.” He kissed me, eyes remaining warm on mine for a moment more. Finally, he gave a nod to Eilahn, then turned and strode to the mini-nexus, hands clasped behind his back.

  I returned to my bedroom with Eilahn and allowed her to fuss over my wig and makeup one more time, and after a few minutes she nodded, satisfied. “It is time to depart,” she said and took my hands. “Is there aught else you require?”

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “Can’t think of a thing.”

  “I will never be far from you,” she stated with such fierce loyalty that I felt tears come to my eyes. “Dahn!” She pulled her hands from mine and snatched a tissue from a box on the dresser to dab at my eyes. “You will smear your cosmetics if you weep!” She wore such a look of asperity on her face that I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Okay, okay! I won’t mess up the makeup.”

  Eilahn finished dabbing, stepped back and eyed me critically before giving me a satisfied nod. “Kara Gillian, you will indeed kick all the ass.”

  “Damn straight,” I said fervently. “I was taught by the best.”

  * * *

  This is not ass-kicking. This is hell.

  “Who the hell knew telecommunications analysts could be so rowdy?” I muttered as I narrowly dodged a slosh of wine from the giggling woman beside me. I edged away from her, turned down yet another slurred offer that I assumed was sexual in nature, and finally found a place to put my back against the wall. I’d been “mingling” in the crowded bar area for the past thirty minutes while I waited for everyone to get into position, and had fended off more passes in that time than I’d received in my entire life. I was damn near ready to trace an aversion ward on my ass.

  “It’s
considered one of the most boring jobs to have, Kara,” Paul told me in an amused voice through the tiny receiver tucked into my ear. “Can you blame them for letting loose when they have the chance?”

  “Yeah, well, the guy whose hand ‘let loose’ up my skirt is sporting some cracked metatarsals now,” I said. My stomp reaction had been swift and instinctive, and I’d slipped away through the press of the crowd while the assailant whined in pain. He probably never even realized the sweet blond thing had a bite. Okay, maybe there was a little ass-kicking.

  Luckily I didn’t have to worry about breaking character until I got outside. Nobody in here would ever think I was pretending to be Amaryllis Castlebrook—if any of them even knew her in the first place. To them I was simply another partying teleco-whatever on the first night of what was probably a deathly dull training seminar.

  “Serves the jerk right, Kara,” Paul said, then added, “It’s the dress. Even I think you look smokin’ hot. And you look really good with blond hair.”

  I hid a grin and pretended to take a sip of my drink. Paul was right—the dress rocked, even if I did have to pad the curves a bit. “Maybe I’ll try blond highlights once all this is done,” I said, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone, since I’d learned it was interpreted as an invitation to come annoy me. “I’m ready to ditch the wig, though. It itches. And I think one of the bobby pins has worked its way through my skull.”

  Paul chuckled. “I’ll get you a purple heart, Kara.”

  “Hey, Paul? What’s with the sudden obsession with my name?”

  He cleared his throat. “Orders from above,” he said a bit sheepishly. “Eilahn and Zack and Mzatal want me to keep, er, reminding you who you are.”

  A warm fuzzy glow started somewhere in my middle, and I felt a silly grin spread across my face. “Y’all are so fucking awesome it’s stupid.”

  “It’s a posse thing, Kara,” he said with a laugh. I heard some soft beeps in the background, and when he spoke again he was all business. “Got the ping from Ryan. Amaryllis is safe and away, and all’s clear.” Earlier the two FBI agents had gently scooped up Ms. Castlebrook as she stepped out of her hotel room, leaving me to be her doppelganger at the cocktail party.