Ian’s body went limp as the magic burst through him in a flurry of red sparks. It seared into his skin and lit him up from the inside. I watched helplessly as the red light from Charlie’s hand filled Ian’s body and lit up his mouth, nose, eyes, and hair like he was a Jack-o’-lantern.
His human exterior melted away, leaving the black humanoid demon mass exposed and naked.
That’s what I really looked like on the inside. At least half of me was anyway, and the sight always broke something inside me. No matter what I did, how I acted, that was the real me, and it scared the hell out of me.
I shuddered as I watched the demon shudder and shake. I had half a mind to try to help him. I always did when I saw these things, but I knew from experience there was nothing I could do. Besides, I needed to take advantage of the situation. If I didn’t, Red’s sacrifice would be for nothing.
“Go to her,” I whispered to Renee, pointing to Ester, who stood watching horrified in the corner.
“He tried to kill me,” she said, looking at the man with eyes that told me she would neither soon forget nor forgive. And that she wanted to do something about it.
“You want him to finish the job?” I asked, daring her with my certainty.
“He can try,” she answered through gritted teeth, holding onto her pen like it was a demon killing machine or something. ”
“You Joan of Arc all of a sudden? Go!” I yelled.
Rushing along beside her, I scooped Gary up into my arms. He was cursing under his breath, holding his broken arm.
Running back over to the women, I glared at the witch.
“The thing you did with time, can you reverse it?”
“Turn time back on?” she asked, staring at the horror show as it neared completion behind us. Ian was little more than a flaming heap of rubber scented awful now, and soon enough, Charlie would turn his attention back to us. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
“No,” I answered. “Speed it up.”
“It won’t matter,” she said, shaking her head. “It didn’t affect him when I stopped time. It wouldn’t affect him if I sped him up either.”
“I don’t want you to speed him up,” I said, wrapping a free arm around Renee and making sure she was close. “I want you to speed us up. Get us the hell out of here.”
Ester’s blue eyes went wide, and a smile crept across her face. She could do it.
“One condition,” she said, eyes searching my face in a way that made me think she knew exactly what I was. “I want in. I can’t protect myself from this. You have to promise. Otherwise, no deal.”
Ian screamed one last primal scream before exploding into ash and fire. Charlie smirked like the whole thing had been easier than washing his hands and turned toward us. His eyes widened in shock as he saw us and he took off toward us. The hard slap of his shoes on the marble seemed to echo across the room as I glanced at the blonde witch.
“Sure!” I yelled, my body tensing. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
“Deal!” Ester yelled lifting her hands and contorting them. She mumbled something in Latin, and Charlie slowed to a snail’s pace in front of my eyes.
But I knew that wasn’t what happened. It wasn’t Charlie who had changed. It was us.
Pushing Renee forward, I watched as the man inched his way toward us. She stopped me, pulling me toward her. “That sonofabitch,” she asked, looking at Charles Whitmore. “Did he do something to my brother?”
“I’m going to find out,” I said, looking up at him myself.
“You better,” she growled back.
Then I ran like hell until he and the courthouse were nowhere to be seen. All the while, a dangerous truth sat in the forefront of my mind.
We were in trouble. Real trouble.
16
“Couldn’t we have hidden out somewhere with cable?” Ester asked, sitting on my couch, eating my potato chips, and flipping through my admittedly sparse channel lineup.
The witch had been in my apartment, along with Renee and Gary, for the last forty-five minutes, which was not near enough time for me to wrap my head around this quickly growing pile of horse crap we found ourselves neck deep in.
“That depends,” I answered, marching back from the kitchen with three beers, one for me, one for the witch, and one for Renee. It was our third round and not nearly enough “On whether you know of a hotel that’s been magically cloaked.”
Handing Renee a beer, I sat down next to her on the couch, eyeing her and trying to gauge just how she was doing without going so far as to ask in front of everybody.
“Hello. I’m a witch,” Ester said, tossing the remote on the table in disgust.
“A witch who couldn’t freeze Charles Whitmore in time,” I answered, taking a chug of my Bud. “Seriously. You had one job.”
“That’s not exactly fair,” she said, flipping her blonde hair over to one side of her neck and straightening it with her hands. “Ian didn’t tell me he was an oddity.”
I leaned forward, letting my hand fall on top of Renee’s. I hadn’t meant to. It was sort of right time, right place. But the instant my palm graced the softness of hers, something about it felt pretty damned good. She didn’t pull away either. Just looked up at me for a split second before returning her attention back to the witch. I turned back to Ester. “What kind of oddity?”
“Beats me,” Ester shrugged. “Maybe the same kind you are? The kind that uses warlock magic and flashes demon eyes when he gets pissed off.”
I set my gaze, wondering if I should flash those demon eyes and really give her a show. She was likely fishing for answers, but she was out of luck. I wasn’t in the sharing mood.
“Coincidentally, it’s also the kind that’s none of your business,” I said, shuffling my feet. My hand still sat on Renee’s and I kept waiting for her to move it, to shrug herself away, but she never did. “Either way, we’re safe here.”
“You sure about that?” Ester asked, throwing her feet on my coffee table and slumping her head against the side of my couch. “Fulton is a different kind of powerful.”
“So are the people who keep this place protected, Toots. We got friends, Roy Boy and me. And don’t be a lush,” Gary sneered, hoping onto the table and pushing her feet right off.
Oh. So it’s okay for him to fart everywhere, but the minute company wants to make herself at home, he suddenly turns into Martha Stewart. Not that I was complaining. This witch was starting to piss me off.
“You’re a crabby little thing,” Ester sat up. “Kinda ugly too.”
“Look who’s talking. You don’t even have a tail,” Gary answered, waving off the insult.
“How are you seeing him?” Renee asked, placing her beer between her legs and somehow still consenting to allow my hand on hers. If we weren’t in deep shit, this would actually be kind of nice.
“What do you mean?” Ester asked, looking from Gary, to Renee, and back again. “I see him because he’s standing there. It’s pretty straightforward.”
“Wasn’t straightforward for your brethren. They didn’t even know what an imp was,” Renee answered, and suddenly I realized what was going on here. The tone in Renee’s voice had changed. She was more solid, more assertive.
In her mind, she had Ester on the stand and she was questioning her.
My heart jumped a little as I realized this. Half because I knew Renee was good at what she did and we might finally get some information, and half because-in some weird way, I found it sexy as hell.
“They’re not my brethren,” Ester answered, her voice lilting upward like she was insulted Renee might actually think she and Ian were in cahoots.
Except, well, they kind of were.
“And it doesn’t surprise me they didn’t know what an imp was. Ian was young for a demon, and Antoine liked to keep his pet projects sheltered. Keeps them loyal.” She shrugged. “It’s m
uch easier to keep someone locked in a cage if they don’t realize they’re in one.”
“So what were you doing with him?” Renee asked before I got the chance to. I felt her body stiffen beside me and knew she was building up an offense of information. In the same way I built clues and used magic to get what I needed done, Renee’s game was logic and truth. And she was ready to play.
“I wasn’t with him. I owed him a favor,” Ester said, looking past Renee and giving me a look that told me to call off my girl. Only, Renee wasn’t my girl. Besides, even if I could have called her off, I wouldn’t. This was too good.
“What sort of favor?” Renee asked, her mouth tightening and her tone worried. She was obviously out of her element here, and she was trying desperately not to get too lost.
“The kind I couldn’t get out of,” Ester said, obviously getting upset. “The kind you have to pay no matter what. That’s what Fulton deals in. Don’t you get it? Fulton procures favors for people. He gets everybody together and facilitates unions that are mutually beneficial. Demons get witches or vampires to do the things they can’t and vice versa. And you know it’s legit. You know you’re going to get what you pay for, because it all goes through Fulton. Nobody’s stupid enough to piss off Fulton.” Her lips pursed distastefully. “Present company obviously excluded.”
“So he’s like the supernatural mafia?” I asked, glaring up at Ester.
“No,” the witch shook her head. “The mafia has competition. Fulton has none. You need something, you go through him. He gets it for you one way or another. Then you owe him. You pay the favor forward. You do what’s asked of you and you don’t say no.”
“So what were you doing whoring yourself out to Ian?” Renee asked, gearing up. “That was obviously in direct opposition to what Fulton would have wanted.”
“Because Ian saved my life,” she answered flatly. “Some dickhead got obsessed with me a while back. Starting leaving me threatening notes, showing up outside my house. But he was a warlock and, well, you know the rules,” she said, looking over at me. “Witches and warlocks can’t shed each other’s blood. So I went to Antoine, and he got one of his little home-schooled demons to do it. We went around Fulton, which isn’t exactly kosher, but the warlock up my ass was one of Fulton’s pets. So as you can see, I was between a rock and a hard place.”
“You people and your favors,” I spat back. It was all I’d heard lately. Antoine owed Charles Whitmore. Ester owed Antoine. Isa owed me. When would this end and why didn’t people just deal with their own shit anymore? Not that I had any room to talk. I was just as bad as any of the riders on this supernatural back-scratching carousel.
“I’m guessing you don’t know who this Fulton sonofabitch is either then?” I asked, standing from the couch and looking over at Ester. Pulling my hand away from Renee had been a little tougher than I’d expected, but she didn’t seem to notice as she readjusted her dress.
“No one knows who Fulton is. I mean, he’s Fulton,” she answered, shaking her head.
“How insightful,” I muttered. This was getting to be like a broken record, and I was getting more than a little sick of the tune.
“He’s got offices somewhere else,” Ester continued hopefully.
“Like in Detroit?” Gary asked, still leering at the woman.
“Like in Hell,” she replied, leaning forward and trying to make it sound as new and inventive as I’m sure she thought it was. But this wasn’t fresh for me. And it sure as hell wasn’t impressive.
“I’ve heard that before,” I answered, nodding at the witch. “It doesn’t impress me.” Looking over at Renee, I motioned for her to meet me in the kitchen.
She stood and walked the ten or so feet to the kitchen section of my open (and pretty messy) living room. Staring at her, I noticed how tired she looked; bags under her eyes, swept up hair, pale skin. Still, there was a fierceness about her. She was doing this for a reason, and she didn’t look half bad doing it.
“I need to go out for a while,” I said, rubbing my eyes with my hands. I was starting to get cabin fever, and I didn’t want to be here if my demon side started getting peckish again. Besides, I had stuff to do.
“I’ll come with you,” she said instantly. I knew she would, but she couldn’t go where I was going to go...
“No!” I said, throwing my hand out toward her. “I-I can’t have you doing that. It’s too dangerous.”
“And it’s not dangerous for you?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up accusingly.
“Not as dangerous,” I admitted, nodding. “Not to say you can’t take care of yourself, but this is different. Way different.”
“But I’m not a demon,” she replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear and looking at the floor, her body tensing. “Or a warlock. Or both.”
“You’re also not to be underestimated,” I answered, trying to reassure her. I leaned against the wall. “You went after that witch pretty hard out there. Didn’t seem too afraid.”
“What’s to be afraid of?” she scoffed. “I deal with people like her every day, trapped in some mess after they fall down while skipping through the dark. I’d feel bad for her if she wasn’t so damned annoying.”
“I feel you,” I answered, chuckling. “I need to go see somebody, somebody who might be able to get me some information about Fulton, why he wants you, and what he has to do with your brother’s disappearance.”
“Then let me come,” she answered in a deadpan voice.
“I can’t do that,” I shrugged. “Where I’m going, you can’t follow. Even if you could--”
“You want me here,” she finished, crossing her arms and giving me the stink eye...
The truth was, it was too dangerous. Where I was going, who I was going to find, was the kind of thing a normal person never needed to come into contact with. It would mess them up, screw with their mind, and I didn’t want that for Renee. But she had a good thought there. So I decided to go with it.
“Who else is going to make sure Gary and Ester don’t trash my place?” I gave her a conciliatory smile. She probably knew I was lying because, hello, lame excuse. “I’ve got some pretty nice stuff here.”
“I especially like the Cheers dartboard,” she answered, motioning toward the flat artifact on my far living room wall. “I can see how that needs protecting.”
“Don’t mock Cheers. It was an American classic,” I said as she nudged me with her shoulder.
Digging in my pocket, I pulled the necklace out of my pocket. “I want you to put this back on okay? Don’t take it off. If something happens, if you feel anything that you construe as danger, I want you to run as far and as fast as you can. It’ll make sure I find you.”
“What is it?” she asked, taking it and putting it around her neck. “I’ve seen the way you look at this thing. I’m not stupid. It’s not just some stone you found in Russia. So what’s it made of, and what does it really mean?”
I stared at her for a long moment. Hell, I would have probably been asking those questions and more if I was in her position. But I wasn’t, and if having her think I thought she was stupid would keep her safe, she could think it all night long. “If I told you, you wouldn’t wear it,” I admitted. “And I need you to wear it.”
“Then I’ll wear it,” she answered, nodding at me, but the look in her eyes told me this conversation wasn’t over, merely postponed. “Hey,” she added, grabbing my hand. “I haven’t thanked you. For everything. For all of it.”
“Don’t,” I said, shaking my head like it wasn’t a big deal. The idea of her feeling indebted to me rubbed me the wrong way, and I wasn’t sure why. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do though,” she replied, still holding my hand. “It’s not enough. It’s not near enough, but I at least have to thank you. Though honestly, I don’t even know why you’re doing this for me.”
“Because it’s the right thing,” I answered a bit too quickly. “Because I’m a cop. Because I know what
it’s like to lose somebody you love, the only person who makes you feel like yourself. Because I’m in this now too. Because this bastard has seen my face and knows what I am, and he won’t stop until all of us are dead.” I shrugged. “And because I like you.”
17
Recent events rang through my head as I sipped at my whiskey sour. It wasn’t high quality, per se, but the girl here had used real egg white, which was a nice touch.
I was on my second whiskey sour and the last couple of phone calls hadn’t turned up much of anything.
In fact, the only upside to the last hour or so had been that I had finally started to get my head together. Prophecies were one thing and when they told you life was going to kick you in the crotch and tell you to suck it because you were going to be unable to stop the woman you maybe, sort of, kind of, like a little bit, from getting slaughtered right there in front of you, well, let’s just say it was tough to look at the bright side of things.
I couldn’t let that get me down. Too much was at stake, and I didn’t have time to let myself get bogged down in self-pity. I needed to make a plan, a plan that used every arsenal at my disposal.
Including one I really didn’t want to use. Still, it wasn’t every day something like this came up.
On that note, I downed the rest of my drink and ordered a third whiskey sour. While I sat there waiting, I watched the crowd milling around this bar. I had been to this place a couple of times since my move to Atlanta. The dark and dingy box of a place was the perfect place to crawl in and hide; perfect for someone like me. A scuffed up wooden floor housed two pool tables off to the side, a long bar against the far wall lit by a single light hanging from the ceiling, and no more than six round tables sprinkled throughout the room, filled with what could conservatively be described as society’s less than desirable. Bikers with long beards and beer bellies fought over the score at the pool tables and aged women in skirts that were way too short for what they had to offer sat, eyeing up the pickins’.
Pound of Flesh: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Half-Demon Warlock Book 1) Page 11