Gods Ascendent

by T. G. Ayer

  Syama groaned. “Man, I really wish profanity didn’t taste like marigolds, or I’d be swearing right now.”

  “Marigolds?” Vee laughed as she stared at Syama.

  “Yeah. When I was little, my mother used to shove marigold-leaf paste into my mouth. Burns like hell and the taste is disgusting.”

  Vee snorted. “I thought that was supposed to be done with soap? Or, worst case scenario with a chili.”

  Syama smirked. “Nope. Not where I come from. Things are hard down below.”

  Vee shook her head as she gave the street one last check. “Marigolds are hard?” she asked in disbelief, sharing an amused look with Akil, whose face had appeared impassive until Syama’s complaint.

  “Marigolds are the most disgusting flower on the planet. Worse than jasmine.”

  As the trio crossed the street, Vee sent Syama a questioning glance. “I think you may be coming down with something.”

  Syama snorted, reaching for the red-glazed glass door to the entrance to the Lucky Clover. She and Akil had remained glamored the entire time, and any witnesses to Vee’s approach to the bar would have seen only one person. “You can’t make me change my mind. No matter how hard you try,” said the hellhound as she held the door open for Vee, who winced at the sound of the doorbell as it jangled above their heads.

  “Be careful,” growled Vee, keeping her voice low, “You’re invisible so this door just magically opened for me before I even reached it.”

  “Shit. Sorry.”

  Vee didn’t answer, more so because they stepped into a churning mess of noise and heat and alcohol fumes. It all hit Vee like a punch to the head, and she wobbled on her feet. Just the tiniest bit, but enough for Akil to place a helping hand to Vee’s back in support.

  Vee straightened and took a breath, then marched toward the bar—an enormous thing that stuck out in the middle of the floor and ran in a full U-shape, serving customers on both sides of a bar that divided the room in half.

  At the far end sat Monroe, nursing a glass that still contained a finger of a golden liquid. Beyond the bar, Vee noticed the establishment was light on supernaturals. “Wonder where all the demons are,” whispered Syama from Vee’s side.

  “Just one more thing to worry about; fewer demons being something only we would worry about,” Vee muttered as they closed in on Monroe.

  The detective barely glanced up as Vee arrived and took the empty seat beside her. “You okay?” Vee asked, having to raise her voice to be heard. The bartender sauntered over, his plaid shirt and orange beard making him look like a lumberjack just home from a day’s work. Vee pointed at Monroe’s drink, and hoped it was something she’d be able to stomach.

  Monroe looked over at her, the detective’s eyes unusually clear for someone who looked inebriated. She’d called Vee here, sounding weird. And now she looked neither of those things. Vee’s gut tightened as she wondered if this was possibly a setup, and the woman she was talking to was not Monroe.

  Then the detective cleared her throat, waved at the bartender for another drink and glanced back at Vee. “Heard about the cab incident.” She sounded like she was saying she was sorry, but the words and the tone of her voice didn’t jell.

  “Gianni told you?”

  “Yeah. The shithead came upstairs just as we were rounding things up. Stood in the doorway giving us a rundown of how he saved your pretty ass.”

  Vee snorted. “As much as I’d have liked to say that he hadn’t saved me, he did. Although I’m not ruling out the possibility that he set the whole thing up to put me off balance.”

  Monroe grunted as she lifted her glass and swirled the amber liquid in the glass. “Yeah. Come swooping in and save the nice FBI agent and then win the jurisdiction battle.”

  The detective downed the remainder of her drink and slammed the glass onto the bare wood surface of the bar counter.

  “I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Or his sleazy pretty-boy partner.”

  Vee sighed as she scanned the area around them again. Syama had remained at Monroe’s back, calmly scanning the thin crowd. Akil had drifted to Vee’s right-hand side, protecting her from an approach from that direction. If people noticed that they were unconsciously giving the area behind Monroe and Vee a wide berth, they didn’t say anything.

  “What’s up?” Monroe eyed Vee, only half-turning to her. The bartender brought two drinks and deposited one in front of each of the women, then walked off.

  “Didn’t know you drank.” When Vee lifted her glass and threw Monroe a curious glance, the detective replied, “Thought you guys weren’t allowed to drink.”

  Vee chuckled. “Think you got your brown people mixed up.” Then she took a sip and enjoyed the warmth of the liquid as it slipped down her throat.

  “Must have. Sorry.”

  Vee glanced over at Monroe—surprised the detective had apologized—and what she saw was confusion and contrition. Interesting how Vee had worked with the woman for so many months, and the pair had never progressed past their encounters at their crime-scenes and the odd phone-call that amounted to little more than a report or an update of some sort.

  Vee had to admit that she herself had been prejudiced, assuming after a couple of meetings that Monroe was one of those women who felt threatened by other women in power and that she’d be more of an opponent than an ally. So, could she really judge Monroe now?

  Monroe let out a soft bark of laughter, but the sound was anything but amused. “Those DNA results. That’s just bullshit.”

  “What do you mean?” Vee asked taking another sip before sharing a worried glance with Syama over the detective’s shoulder. Did Monroe suspect something was jinky with the results? Vee had told Brent more than once that one day someone was going to figure out something was wrong with those results. She’d suggested they do their own testing in all of the cases, even obtain warrants to force the cops to part with samples for testing at an independent lab. But Rossi had believed they were fine. As long as we are careful, he’d said.

  Now Vee had to wonder if careful hadn’t been enough.

  “Monroe?” Vee nudged the detective’s arm.

  Monroe looked up at Vee, widening her eyes as if she were forcing herself to remain awake. “There wasn’t enough tissue under her fingernails to get a conclusive match. And that’s bullshit. I saw it myself when they scraped her hands. There was enough. I saw it—I’m not imagining things.” She paused and took another sip before slamming her glass onto the bar. “There was enough. So what’s this crap?”

  “And?” urged Vee. She wasn’t sure if Monroe was playing her, holding the knowledge over her. All Vee had to do to clear it up was to message Brent, and she’d have her answer in seconds, but she forced herself to remain calm and patient.

  Monroe sipped her drink again and coughed before wiping her mouth off on her sleeve. “And the hair samples? You won’t believe it—” Monroe broke off, laughing again, the sound loud enough that Vee noticed a few patrons glancing their way. Monroe hiccupped. “They came back dead. No DNA? You telling me that two full, intact, uncontaminated hair samples that did not belong to the victim just happened to not have sufficient DNA on them to identify at least something about the killer?”

  Vee was amazed that the detective had managed to speak such a long sentence in her state of inebriation, but she schooled her features to one of understanding and sympathy.

  Monroe shook her head, eyed Vee out of the corner of her eye. Then she pointed at Vee.

  “And you? You’re suspicious.”

  Oh shit.

  Chapter 23

  Vee’s heart thudded as she waited to hear what else Monroe had to say, waited for the detective to admit that she was onto Vee, that she knew what Vee was, and what she’d been hiding.

  Vee took another sip to buy herself some time.

  Monroe laughed, the sound gurgling in her throat. “You think one day you’ll ever tell me how you do it?” Monroe asked, eyeing Vee out of the corner
of her eye.

  Swallowing a sigh of relief, Vee responded, “Maybe. I don’t know.” She shrugged.

  Monroe snorted then started to giggle. Vee reached over and patted her shoulder. “You need to get home. Get some rest. I don’t think the next few days are going to be easy on any of us. Not until we find that missing woman. Two lives are at stake.”

  “Did you get the report?”

  “That the house gave us nothing?” Vee nodded. “Yeah. If that was a dead end, then we look elsewhere. They went to the hotel for some mother-daughter time. Means they weren’t into anything criminal.”

  “Not that we know of.”

  Vee nodded. “Anything else we need to know, I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

  “And if he kills her tonight?”

  Vee paused and took a breath. “If that does happen, if we do lose her or the baby or both of them, then we have to accept that there wasn’t anything we could have done at the time. We have no clue as to motive. We have no idea where he went or where he is keeping her. At the moment, it’s out of our hands. Go home. Rest. Look at it fresh in the morning. You’re of no use to anyone, including Lucy and her baby, if you don’t take care of yourself. Drunk detectives don’t often have a high success rate, you know.”

  Monroe shrugged Vee’s hand off her shoulder. “Think I don’t know all this bullshit?”

  “Then what’s wrong? Why the self-pity?”

  “It’s not self-pity.” Monroe turned to stare at Vee. “Have you ever seen something that you didn’t think was possible, but you knew in your gut it was real?”

  Vee’s own gut tightened in response to the woman’s words. Was Monroe suspicious about what Vee was? What she could do? Had she somehow realized that Vee’s ability was not necessarily based on plain old human deduction?

  Vee felt a poke in her ribs and glanced back in the direction of Akil who’d likely prodded her just to pull Vee out of her worried introspection. The sirin gave her a pointed look and Vee shifted in her seat, then glanced back at Monroe.

  The detective was frowning at Vee. Then she turned to look beyond Vee, and stared directly at Akil for a few, painfully long moments. After what seemed like an eternity, Monroe turned back to Vee. “What were you staring at?”

  “Nothing. It’s just the bar is on the empty side.”

  Monroe shrugged. “You familiar with this place?”

  “Came here once, a while back. Was way busier then.”

  “Yeah. I think they had some kind of corporate buyout or something. The bar changed hands recently.”

  That explained the fixed letter C.

  Vee pursed her lips and nodded, interested but aware of the late hour—or early depending on the way you look at it—and she was tired, Monroe was drunk, and the ratio of demons to humans in the bar leaned dangerously toward non-human. Vee had no clue as to the allegiance of the new owner, which meant the best thing to do now was to get the hell out of there.

  Syama seemed to think so too. She shifted closer to Vee. “Let’s get her out of here. Some of these guys are not the kind you want to meet in a dark alley.”

  “Not to mention that we seem to be drawing a bit too much attention,” Akil murmured softly. Vee noticed his hand shift toward his hip, fingers closing around the hilt of his narrow-bladed sword.

  Vee frowned and then got to her feet. At some point, she’d drained her glass, but she couldn’t recall when. She tossed a few bills onto the bar and stared at Monroe. “Coming? Either I help you out of here, or you can get one of these creeps here to take you home. I’m not sure you’ll be happy if that happens.”

  Monroe let out a soft bark of laughter. “Funny. I’m not the type these guys are looking for. That’s more your area.”

  Vee lifted her eyebrow.

  “What I meant to say was—”

  “Save it for when I get you home.” Vee began to walk off, leaving Monroe to trail behind her looking a little too much like a lost puppy. They left the bar and hurried across the road and back into the darkness of the alley.

  A light fixed to a wall above them cast a fluorescent glow on the front end of the alley, and the women headed deeper into the shadows. Syama was already throwing her glamor over them when a shout erupted from the street. A small group of men had left the bar, and one glance over her shoulder confirmed they were after her and Monroe.

  “C’mon hellhound, do your thing,” Vee muttered giving Syama a glare.

  “Don’t call me that,” Syama replied through gritted teeth. Monroe teetered between the hellhound, and Akil who was rolling his eyes, and began to shimmer away.

  Vee hadn’t yet had time to coax Monroe’s address out of her, but the sound of rushing boots on the sidewalk told her they were out of time.

  But, before Vee could tell Syama to hurry, the hellhound had already transported them to the garage at Vee’s house. They materialized only to have Monroe pass out in a heap on the floor.

  “Crap. Good thinking getting us here. I have no idea where she lives.”

  “Wallet?” suggested Syama.

  Vee was barely paying attention to her as she rifled through the detective’s pockets. She found the woman’s wallet and flicked through the cards before waving one at Syama. Then she read out an address that straddled Harlem and Morningside Heights. Vee found herself extremely grateful that she didn’t need to bother with ordering a ride every time she needed to go places. She’d missed the ease of travel that she’d experienced since Syama had arrived and vowed never to take the hellhound—or the sirin—for granted.

  As Syama and Akil lifted Monroe off the floor in preparation for the jump, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Vee was about to tell the two to wait, but again the hellhound was too fast. They materialized inside Monroe’s front room, and almost collapsed under the dead weight of the woman.

  Syama and Akil staggered a few steps and dropped Monroe onto the nearest sofa where the detective sank against the cushions and let out a loud snore.

  Vee grinned. “Right. Let’s get outta here.”

  “She’s going to be super confused when she wakes up.” Syama was smiling as she reached for Vee’s hand.

  “Let’s hope we can get away with telling her we drove her home after she passed out,” Vee said.

  Syama shimmered, and Vee watched in fascination as her own arm took on the strange, almost liquid, luminescent quality that Syama possessed when she jumped. They left Akil to jump on his own, and Syama transported her and Vee back home, landing in Vee’s bedroom.

  “Door to bed delivery, any hour of the day.”

  Vee chuckled as Syama turned on her heel and sauntered out into the hall. Outside the window, morning was beginning to brighten the skies, gray light peeking in at the sides of the drapes.

  Vee yawned and kicked off her shoes. She was shrugging out of her jacket when she remembered the piece of paper that had fallen from Monroe’s pocket. Curious, Vee left her room and hurried downstairs, locating the paper on the garage floor within seconds. It turned out to be a business card.

  On one side was a black and red drawing of a lotus, and on the back were contact details for a person named Howard. Vee frowned. What the heck was the card for? No company name, no address, just a name and a phone numbers.

  Interesting.

  Vee tucked the business card into her back pocket and headed upstairs. Undressing, she padded to her dresser to grab a pen and a post-it note. She wrote a message on one and stuck it on her room door.

  Then she dived under the covers and prayed that anyone who dared to come to her room would heed her warning.

  5.05am: I’m going to bed. Disturb me at your peril. Much love, V

  Chapter 24

  Two days had passed since they’d discovered the abduction of Lucy and her unborn baby, and as yet no law enforcement agency in the entire state had managed to uncover a thread of evidence that could even suggest where she’d been taken.

  Vee had woken up late, checked her phone to discov
er no messages from Karan about new demon killers on the loose. She did find an update from Brent confirming that he’d fixed all the tests and autopsy reports and that things were fine.

  They weren’t.

  Vee had rung him back almost instantly and had alerted Brent as well as Rossi that Monroe was suspicious. She warned them again that tampering with the reports was going to tip someone off. She repeated her suggestion that going forward they procure their own portions of samples for independent testing—and strongly suggested they be sent to Shankar Industries so Vee herself could spearhead the forensic investigation of that evidence.

  Vee didn’t enlighten her boss that she was currently redirecting some evidence to her own lab for testing. That was one of those I’ll-deal-with-it-when-the-shit-hits-the-fan things.

  She’d previously encouraged Rossi to destroy the evidence the forensic techs picked up and even though Monroe’s rant about it last night highlighted the danger, destruction of the evidence prior to testing made better sense than tampering with reports after the fact.

  Rossi assured Vee that he’d set something up as soon as possible.

  Vee’s other message was more along the lines of something she preferred to see. Nivaan’s voicemail had advised her to be prepared for a night out on the town, that he’d booked a table at Eduardo’s in Manhattan, and that jeans was acceptable but that a little fancy won’t hurt.

  She smiled as she messaged him back, confirming his request for a date.

  Request indeed.

  Vee headed over to her lab at Shankar Industries and had immersed herself in studying the samples of pey brain she’d prepared the previous day. She’d paused only when she’d identified the existence of a parasitic virus that seemed to live inside the brain of the pey demon.

  After considering various options, she began to suspect that she’d be able to create a bio-weapon based on that virus. Perhaps it would be considered unethical, but Vee believed she’d only ever use such a weapon in defense of the innocent.