Demon Hunt

by A. Blythe

  Pinky closed the door and gave us a sly smile. “So what are you two doing out late together?”

  I dangled the card in front of her nose. “This. This is all we’re doing together.”

  Her smile drooped. “Lame.”

  “What’s the deal with your butler?” I asked. “Since when do they look like underwear models?”

  Reed looked blankly at the closed library door. “He looks like an underwear model?”

  “We call him the chamberlain.” Pinky shrugged. “I don’t know why. Mommy likes to be different.”

  “And he lives here?” I asked. I wondered if he was more than a butler to Serena Edwards.

  “He lives in the carriage house on the property,” Pinky said. “It has its own tennis court and everything.” She took the card from my hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “I’d like you to take a look at this card and tell me if you notice anything odd.”

  She studied the front of the card. “Whoever bought it has no taste. It’s cheesy as hell.”

  I sighed. “The inside of the card, Pinky.”

  “Oh.” She opened the card and noticed the unfamiliar scribble. “I see what you mean.”

  “It’s not a language,” Reed said, and I placed a hand on his arm before he said anything more. I wanted to see what Pinky could glean on her own. Like Flynn intimated, I had to stop holding her hand all the time.

  She waved a hand across the card. “It’s like a false drawer.”

  “Isn’t that where there’s a handle but no actual drawer?” I asked.

  Pinky bit her lip. “Okay, not like a false drawer then, because there is definitely something written underneath.”

  Bingo. “Can you remove the glamour so I can read it?” I tried not to sound too eager.

  “Give me a sec.” She walked over to the mahogany desk and placed the card on top. She closed her eyes and said a few words in Etruscan. When she opened her eyes again, she was beaming. “Totally did it.”

  She handed me the card and I looked down in disbelief. The gibberish was gone and Jamie’s chicken scratch was in its place. Plain English, just like Reed suspected.

  “Glamours are so easy,” Pinky said, examining her fingernails.

  Easy for her. Nothing was easy for me without my magic.

  “It couldn’t have been that simple,” Reed said. “Your handler wouldn’t have made it easy to decode it.”

  Pinky looked at me askance. “This card is from your dead handler?”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to reveal too much to anyone, even Pinky. “I want to see if the message will help me find his killer.”

  “No offense, Alyse, but you’ve got your own fish to fry,” Pinky said. “Don’t you want your cuffs off? That’s what I’d be focused on.”

  “I’m pretty sure this is part of the same fish,” I said. “At least I think it is.” I scanned the message. It was only a first name and what appeared to be a phone number.

  “So who’s Jonathan?” Pinky asked.

  I racked my brain for anyone called Jonathan. “I have no idea.”

  “He obviously wanted you to call this person,” Reed said. He fished the phone out of my back pocket and handed it to me. “No time like the present.”

  I took a deep breath and tapped the screen. I didn’t recognize the area code either. The call immediately went to voicemail—no greeting, no voice at all. Just a beep.

  I covered the phone with my hand. “Do I leave a message?”

  Reed nodded emphatically.

  “Jonathan. Jamie gave me your number. My name is Alyse. Please call me when you get this message.” I gave him my number and clicked off.

  “Do you have any idea who he might be?” Reed asked. “Someone in the agency?”

  “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Ooh,” Pinky said. “Give him a special ringtone so you know when it’s him calling.”

  I did love my ringtones. “Good thinking.” I chose Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.

  Reed’s brow lifted. “Really?”

  “It’s appropriately dramatic.”

  “So does everyone in your phone have a ringtone?” I knew the question he was really asking.

  “Yes, Reed, you have a ringtone.”

  He grabbed my phone. “What is it?”

  “None of your business.” I stomped on his foot and snatched back my phone. “I don’t go snooping around your phone.”

  He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. “Go on. Have the grand tour.”

  I groaned. I had no doubt the contents of the Boy Scout’s phone were perfectly innocent in every way. “No thank you. I value your privacy.” I gave him a pointed look.

  Pinky huffed. “Omigod. Just tell him.” She turned to Reed. “Your ringtone is Superman. The R.E.M. version.”

  He nodded his approval. “I like that song.”

  “Let me know when Jonathan calls,” Pinky said. “I’m dying to know who he is.”

  Me too. “Thanks for your help, Pinky.” I shoved the card back into my pocket. “I wouldn’t have been able to read it without you.”

  She waved me off. “Oscar would’ve done it for you. He owes you oodles since you saved my life.”

  “Well, we’re partners,” I reminded her. “I’d much rather come to you for magical assistance.” Not to mention I’d do anything to avoid a nausea-inducing trip to Enclave HQ.

  Pinky radiated pride. One day she’s sulking at me and, the next day, I’m her favorite person. Teenagers.

  Reed and I rode back to Center City in relative silence. Thankfully, he didn’t bring up the kiss again and neither did I. He pulled in front of Tops and Bottoms and unlocked the car door.

  “Thanks for the help, Reed,” I said, and reached for the handle.

  “So you owe me one, right?” he asked cheerfully.

  I froze. “Owe you one?” I was not a fan of owing anyone anything—not even Farah, and she was my best friend.

  “For my help. I figure you might want to offer me some sort of recompense. So here’s the deal. I’ll let you take me to dinner.”

  “You’ll let me…” I sputtered.

  “I know you’re not going to want this dangling over your head,” he said, in a frustratingly reasonable tone. “So I’ll let you make good on the IOU by taking me to dinner.”

  I fought to keep my voice calm. “I’ll have you know…”

  When he started to laugh, I knew I’d been had. “I know better,” he said. “Nobody lets Alyse Winters do anything. She just does it.” I relaxed until he spoke again. “So would you like to go to dinner with me next week?”

  An internal war raged inside me. The rational part of me knew any attempt at a relationship would be futile. For so many reasons. He was a Naphil. I was a djinni. He was good and kind and I…wasn’t. He only knew me in this magicless form and I had no intention of staying locked in human chains. What happened when I got the cuffs off and he decided he didn’t like the real me? Heartbreak City.

  On the other hand, he was ridiculously handsome. And good and kind. And I was, begrudgingly, impressed by his supernatural skills. It wasn’t easy to impress a Marid, especially me.

  “What are you doing?” Reed asked suspiciously. “Are you creating a mental list of pros and cons?”

  “No!” I said, and felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

  “Good. Then it’s settled. Dinner.”

  Oh dear gods. “I’m a pretty messy eater. I might embarrass you.”

  “Then don’t order the wings,” he said with a wink. “I’ll pick you up at seven on Thursday.”

  I exited the car and stood on the sidewalk, confused. What kind of Naphil mind trick did he just perform on me? Without saying a word, he practically convinced me that he was the droid I was looking for. Before I could change my mind, he sped off. I watched the taillights in disbelief until they were swallowed by the night.

  The next morning I honored a prearranged date with Mix to go for a run.
Even though I was drained from the night before, I was determined to stick to my schedule. No pain, no gain and all that.

  He used to run with Paulette, his girlfriend, before we discovered she was a secret mage complicit in multiple murders in the city. Now he was stuck running with me.

  I took a cab to his apartment so that I’d have enough energy for the actual run. As I paid the driver, I caught a glimpse of a familiar blond chignon leaving Mix’s apartment building. She was hard to miss in a faux mink coat and heels.

  “Mrs. Edwards?”

  It was nine o’clock in the morning. What on earth was she doing here?

  Serena stopped, shocked to see me standing on the sidewalk. “Alyse, what a wonderful surprise. Ready for a run, I see.” She gestured to my sneakers.

  “Yes, I’m supposed to run with Mix.” I hesitated. “Is that where you were?”

  She tucked an imaginary strand of blond hair behind her ear and flashed me a charming smile. “Why, yes. Jeremy was kind enough to escort me to a charity event last evening when my date came down with a sudden illness. Since the event was only a few blocks away, we decided it was best if I stayed.”

  Because his postage-stamp sized apartment was preferable to her royal palace? Doubtful.

  “I didn’t realize that you and Mix were in touch.” We’d all had dinner together—Serena had invited Farah, Mix and I to dinner to get to know us better—but I wasn’t aware that she and Mix had continued the conversation. As usual, he was holding out on me.

  “We ran into each other again recently,” she said. “Last night’s charity was for an animal rescue center and I know how fond Jeremy is of animals.”

  I blinked. Jeremy Mix was fond of animals? He didn’t even use the glass and paper method for spiders. He stomped on them and left them for dead. In his tiger form, he ate every small animal that wandered in his path.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you. It’s funny to run into you here because I was actually at your house last night,” I said. “I met Michael.” I raised an eyebrow. “I bet he’d look pretty good in a tux.”

  Her expression grew pinched. “Michael is our chamberlain,” she said, stressing the last word. “It would hardly be appropriate for him to escort me anywhere outside the home.”

  Testy, testy. “Do you need me to call you a cab?” Or will your helicopter be landing momentarily?

  “No need. Thank you.” She adjusted the hem of her dress. “Lovely to see you, Alyse.”

  I bit back a laugh as I bounded up the steps to Mix’s apartment. I couldn’t wait to hear his side of the story.

  He was stretched across the couch when I arrived, still in his boxers and a T-shirt.

  “Does this mean we’re not running?” I asked.

  His head shifted slightly at the sound of my voice. “Alyse?”

  “Did you forget?” He couldn’t be hung over. It would take a lot more drinking than Mix was capable of to get a djinni drunk. Flynn—yes. Mix—not a chance.

  “Oh, right.” He pulled himself to a sitting position. “I was out really late.”

  “Yes, with Mrs. Edwards.”

  His eyes popped. “You saw her?”

  “Don’t worry,” I told him. “She didn’t look half as disheveled as you.” A grunting sound from the bedroom distracted me from what I was going to say next. “Mix, there’s no one else here, is there?” The Jeremy Mix I knew was not that kinky. Then again, I just passed Pinky’s mom leaving his apartment after a torrid night of animal rescue.

  “No, just me here,” he said. “Why?”

  “Stay here.” I grabbed a pan from the stovetop and crept along the wall until I reached the bedroom.

  “Alyse, what are you doing?” he asked groggily.

  “I hear someone in your room,” I said quietly.

  The grunting grew louder and I pulled the pan into striking position.

  “Alyse, no!”

  As I yanked back my arm, a pot-bellied pig ambled out of the bedroom.

  My arm dropped to my side. “What in the Plasma Plane…?”

  “Alyse, meet Annie. Annie is my new pet.”

  “Did you win her in a raffle last night?” I watched the pig go over to Mix and nudge his leg. He scratched her behind the ear. She easily weighed one hundred pounds.

  “No, I rescued her last week.”

  “You rescued her?”

  “Yes, from the meat market. I was passing by and I saw her hanging upside down and squealing. It was awful, Alyse. It was like she was begging me to save her.”

  “So you did.”

  The pig grunted at me.

  “I did. When I ran into Serena outside my office building, I happened to mention Annie and she had all kinds of great advice.”

  “And you exchanged numbers to bond over animal rescue missions?”

  “Actually, we ended up having lunch together that day. She was a lot of fun.”

  I bet.

  “What about Pinky?” I demanded, hands on hips.

  “What about her? I’ve never been interested in Pinky.”

  “I know, but she’s our friend. Isn’t it weird if you date her mother?” Her very wealthy, very connected mother.

  “We’re not dating,” he said. “Her date for last night fell through at the last minute and she called me.”

  “And she stayed here,” I said. “Overnight.”

  Mix eyed me. “So what? We’re both adults.”

  Somehow, this felt worse than Paulette to me. My priorities were seriously messed up.

  “Come and pet Annie,” he urged. “She likes to be scratched.”

  I stared at the snorting pig. “Mix, I’m not entirely comfortable with pets. You know that.”

  “Annie will change your mind. She’s so smart. You can see it in her eyes. I couldn’t let them butcher her.”

  I felt a little hypocritical walking over to pet the pig. After all, I liked sausages and bacon.

  “Hi Annie,” I said awkwardly. “I’m Mix’s friend, Alyse.”

  “She’s nice, right?” Mix asked.

  “Um, sure.” I sighed, disappointed. “We’re not running today, are we?”

  “Not if my life depended on it,” Mix said.

  “Take a shower and I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “Do you mean you’ll put cereal in a bowl or actually cook something?” he asked.

  I arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

  “I just don’t want you to set my apartment on fire while I’m in the shower, that’s all.”

  The voice of Jennifer Lopez erupted from my phone.

  “What is that?” Mix queried.

  “I’m testing out ringtones for Detective Thompson. Gloria Estefan wasn’t working out.” I held up a finger and answered. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “The judge approved the search warrant. Meet me at the bank in thirty minutes. Sounds like there might be some paperwork involved.”

  “Oh boy,” I said. “I can’t wait to dot those i’s and cross those t’s. This will be much more fun than working in the field.”

  Thompson sighed. “I can’t imagine what you were like as an agent on the loose.”

  “Just like you. Thompson, I did my job and I did it well.” And I missed it horribly. “See you soon.”

  “What was that about?” Mix asked.

  “You’re on your own for breakfast,” I told him.

  Mix looked crestfallen. “Are you two still doing Ghul School?”

  “We’re on hiatus. Too much going on,” I said. I had offered to teach Thompson everything I knew about Ghuls so that she could one day avenge the death of her parents.

  “So you’re not going to tell me what you’re up to?” he asked.

  Between Katrien, Reed, and my role as Thompson’s shadow, there were far too many secrets floating around in my head right now. I couldn’t possibly pick just one.

  “Only if you promise to tell Pinky you’re dating her mom.” Ha! Fat chance of that.

  “We’re not dating. Besi
des, if anyone says anything to Pinky, I think it should be Serena.”

  I shook off the image of Mix and Serena together and started for the door. “See you later, Mix.”

  “Show Detective Thompson some respect and try another ringtone,” Mix called after me.

  Like I’d take advice on respect from a guy who decided it was perfectly natural to keep an enormous pig in a tiny apartment.

  7

  By the time I arrived in the bank lobby, Thompson was already deep in conversation with my old pal, Mr. Moyes. She didn’t look happy, not that her grim expression was all that unusual. There was another gentleman standing with them in a finely tailored navy blue suit and crimson tie. His hair was silver and his deep tan suggested a recent vacation on a tropical island.

  I strode toward them and stuck out my hand. “Alyse Winters. And which client do you represent?”

  He smiled in an obvious attempt to put me at ease. “My client has asked to remain anonymous,” he replied, “but I’m happy to act as the voice of reason here.”

  He produced a business card from his trouser pocket and handed it to me.

  Standish Guthrie. Although I didn’t recognize the name, I recognized the law firm because I’d been there a couple of times. It was where Mix worked in IT.

  “The voice of reason, huh?” I repeated. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is the scope of the warrant is far too broad and my client is not a suspect in any criminal investigation.”

  I looked to Thompson for confirmation and she jerked her thumb at Mr. Moyes. “The bank notified its account holders that it received a search warrant.”

  Mr. Guthrie leaned forward. “Which is entirely permissible within the…”

  I held up a hand. “I don’t need citations, Mr. Guthrie.” I faced Thompson. “So what happens now? Since his client is the only one who objects, can’t we just skip that safe deposit box?”

  Thompson folded her arms, looking thoroughly disgusted. “Except his client wishes to remain confidential, remember?”

  “Well, that’s unreasonable,” I said.

  “As is your warrant,” Mr. Guthrie replied.

  “Did you call the judge?” I asked Thompson.