Many of those in the room had their arms wrapped around themselves in an attempt to keep warm, their ogling gazes vacillating between Bishop and his demon. Fyra had nailed some serious points.
“I grudgingly see your point, but we need more.” Demetrius spread his hands around him. “This isn’t just where we work. This is our home. If you’re conspiring against us or go up in flames while you sleep, we are seriously screwed.”
“Then it sounds like you dumped all your eggs in one basket,” Fyra said sweetly. “Bad strategy, boss.”
Bishop’s heart swelled with pride. His demon had nailed it. Zoey sucked in a breath, Creed covered a cough, and Rourke quirked a brow. Calli frowned as if she agreed and looked to Demetrius.
Demetrius’s facade fractured as he snapped. “We’re not squirrels hiding our nuts in ten different holes. That’s why we need to protect this place.”
Fyra pushed her hair off her face and primly reclined back in her seat. She crossed one knee over the other, her athletic shoes a stark contrast to her professional attire.
“Do sit, Bishop.” She tugged on his waistband. “Me and your boss are going to have a little chat about his nuts.”
Fyra couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed her face. A minor one but still one for the male who’d upset her big guy.
Kick Bishop out. Like old-time America, when a man took up with a girl of ill repute and was disowned. She assessed Demetrius. Perhaps he’d lived through those times and was inclined to return to that way of thinking. After all, he was a prime male and they were as arrogant as they came.
So, fine. If she had to barter the underworld’s daily news to keep a demon-warded roof over her and Bishop’s heads, then she’d do that. At least her bond to Bishop allowed her through the wards.
She cracked her fingers. Bishop’s thermometer was rising from the deep freeze, thanks to her. Any more upset and stalactites would descend. And they’d blame her.
“You know Malachim. He’s actually a cousin or something to Rancor. Probably a half-brother. Uncle. Hard to tell, there’s a lot of inbreeding within certain types of demons, especially the purebreds. Then, let’s see, oh, you’ve had dealings with Bita, correct?”
Rourke nodded, his own cold expression rivaling her vampire’s.
“So that’s three,” she continued. “Then there’s Bita’s mom, Vita. My ex’s sister, Hypna, took over when he met a fortunate end. Hypna’s a real be-otch.”
Demetrius held up a hand. “Wait. Ex?”
Fyra’s mouth twisted. Her not-so-secret shame. “You heard me and no, he didn’t reveal any juicy tidbits. That’s what he wanted me around for, to drop incriminating information he could use against me. Sound familiar?”
Bishop tensed next to her and a new wave of cool air wafted off him. To her credit, Calli looked abashed and Demetrius’s mouth tightened.
She’d go ahead and skip over the incineration event. “That’s five. Spawn, real original name I know. Then you have the ghostly twins: Spectre and Wraith. Notice the nepotism in attaining a Circle position. There’s the couple, Mantis and Jester.”
Bishop broke in. “Does Mantis look like a praying mantis?”
“She’s the one. Genius names, am I right? Demons’ imagination might stretch into violence, but not names. The last three dudes are Barkle, Willistien, and Zanzacor.”
“They all have different abilities?” Demetrius asked.
“Somewhat. I’d say it’s more of a mastery of our spell craft that puts them in the top ranks. And before you ask, they covet their strengths hard. My mom was just looking into them—of course, she planned on using the information to seize a Circle position—but it was enough to turn attention on her and,” she took a fortifying breath, “and get her killed.”
Demetrius glanced sharply at her. “You were close to your mother.”
“Duh. We are not so different, all of us supernatural races.”
“But you’re demons,” Creed pointed out.
“Named by humans who feared we were of the biblical variety when we’re really just the third wheel in your TriSpecies Synod, not hybrids.”
They all stared at her.
“Hellfire, don’t y’all know the origins of our races?”
“The story,” Zoey offered, “is that shifters followed the light and we vampires followed the dark.”
Fyra finished, “And we couldn’t get along with either of you and took to the underworld.”
“But it’s Hell.” Zoey’s tone held the same edge the female must have.
“It is hell, but not like, Hell. We don’t mess with those creatures. Well, we would if we thought we could win, but then we’d be targeted by the angels.” She waved her hands. “What a mess. Best left alone. We aren’t stupid.”
They continued to stare at her.
Demetrius broke the silence. “That’s an interesting view of the origins of the species.”
“One that allowed humans to take over,” she agreed. “We should’ve stayed up here. So, second-tiers, I’m sure your mate has informed you, are weaker versions of full-blood demons, probably due to crossbreeding. I personally never thought we could survive up here; we’re heavily monitored. But,” she gave Bishop the side-eye, “it obviously happens.”
All attention turned to Bishop.
His head dropped and he shoved his hands through his hair. “I suspect my pa found out and killed Mam’s parents but couldn’t bring himself to kill her or me, so he did himself in.”
“I’m sorry, Bishop,” Calli whispered.
A slight nod was his only acknowledgment. “I grew up with Mam’s warnings. Don’t let daylight touch me, but what vampire doesn’t hear that? Don’t get upset. Don’t do or say anything that’ll make me grow cold. Be selective about who drinks from me. Be a normal vampire.”
“The wards.” Everyone turned to Rourke. “If demons learned the wards we used on the buildings, could they use them on themselves to stay in concealment?”
“How would they have learned them?” Fyra asked.
Calli cleared her throat. “The tome has been floating through my family for years, since my mother got her hands on it. I don’t know who she got it from, but if demons have been hiding among us for centuries, it could have been anytime.”
Fyra’s mouth dropped open.
Bishop turned to her, sensing her astonishment.
“What if you’re the reason the tome is in this realm, Bishop? Not you, but, you know…” Fyra shot ramrod straight in her chair. “Demon balls! Those shifty ice demons hated being so restricted in the underworld, but they weren’t let out of the caves lest they turn the place into a giant ice palace.” With a frown, she slumped back down. “But I’d think they’d go even farther north than Freemont.”
Her vampire swiveled in his seat to face her. “They did, but my grandparents migrated to Freemont to blend in with the larger vampire population. Our winters are still pretty brutal.”
“Then when Bishop’s grandparents were killed,” Calli gave him a sympathetic look, “the tome fell into my mother’s greedy little hands.”
“And gave the thirteen the opening they wanted. That theory makes too much sense.” Demetrius made a disgusted noise. “Instead of coming to our realm and being sneaky, they had vampires fucking knocking on their door.”
“My kin are responsible for all this?” Bishop’s eyes were downcast, his shoulders sagging.
“Your kin, not you.” Calli’s gentle voice soothed even Fyra, who’d felt Bishop’s loss of cold like the energy had been drained from him.
Demetrius nodded in agreement with his mate and for that, Fyra would try harder not to torch him. “We’ve learned enough about our past to keep us moving forward. Fyra, how many of the Circle are in this realm and who do they inhabit?”
“I can’t help you with who; I’m stuck going in and out of humans. As for how many, they don’t send out a monthly newsletter.” She bounced her foot in thought. “Bita has been whining to her mom and Mal
achim has been sulking since they both got shot back home. I haven’t seen the twins haunting the caverns for months.”
Bishop pulled out his phone. “Is this Mantis and Jester?”
Fyra watched the five-second recording and burst out laughing. “Bollocks, that’s disgusting. They like their orgies. Show them. Go ahead, show ’em.”
“I’m not. It’s disgusting.”
“Now you have to show us.” Creed reached over the table.
Bishop handed his phone over and his friend winced at the footage.
Creed tossed it back. “Yeah, man. I can’t unsee that. Why would you record it? Freak.”
“I had to cross the opening and needed to know what was inside. Mantis and Jester are accounted for.”
“I don’t think Hypna ever wants to leave, but the three musketeers have made themselves scarce.” Fyra narrowed her eyes at nothing, running the last several months through her mind. “No, I see them on occasion. I think they all come and go.”
Demetrius appeared lost in thought for a moment. “Five other potential prime hosts besides Godet. We came up with the same number.”
Zoey spoke the question they were all wondering. “How do we find them?”
Chapter Seventeen
Bishop’s chill was waning. He’d come into the meeting more worried than defensive. Until Demetrius had attacked his demon and thereby him. Would it have been easier for Demetrius to kick him out, knowing part of his genetics belonged to the creatures they fought?
Many years of friendship would’ve been thrown down the drain over his demon. And D had said it all without twitching, hiding behind the claim that he was doing what was best for his people.
The cold blossomed back up and Fyra reached down to tap her fingers along his thigh. Her touch left a trail of comforting warmth.
He met her gaze. “I’ll work on finding Godet.”
Demetrius’s keen gaze didn’t miss the contact and Bishop’s challenged him in return.
“How many know about you?”
Bishop paled at the question. “None.”
Heads swiveled to Fyra.
“Oh, really?” Her hair sparked and Rourke’s hand twitched toward the fire extinguisher. “No, I didn’t say anything, not even when I was buying time to keep Rancor’s filthy appendages off of me.”
A cold blast waved off him. Clothes ruffled and strands of hair whispered in the breeze.
“Use it,” he growled. “If ever my ancestry could save you, use it. Spill anything you want about me.”
Her eyes became pools of searing lava, and he made it his goal to put that aww, you’re so sweet look on her face as much as he could.
“We go hunt for Godet.” Bishop pushed back and held his hand out for Fyra.
She slinked out of the chair. “Can we fit in a quick shopping trip? I’ll risk the wrath of the entire Circle for a pair of pants that fastens below my bellybutton.”
“Bishop.” Demetrius didn’t raise his voice, but it carried.
Out of loyalty to the friendship Bishop hoped they still had, he stopped before he left the conference room.
“Wait until nightfall and take Zoey and Rourke with you.”
“And take these with you.” Creed gathered the three closest fire extinguishers and pushed them across the table.
Until Bishop could spew ice from his fingers, he took Creed up on the advice. “We’ll go shopping and grab some shut-eye until then.”
Again, he turned to go and Demetrius stopped him.
“Shut-eye, Bishop. Don’t leave the wards until we can watch your back.”
Just Bishop’s, or his and Fyra’s?
Bishop ushered Fyra out, and as soon as they entered his apartment, he turned to her and set his hands on her shoulders.
“How much of your power can you control?”
Two prominent emotions traveled through her features. Alarm and shame.
He rubbed his thumbs along her clavicle, working hard to keep the movement from being sexual. “We’re going in the field tonight. I need to know what you’re capable of and any other possible outcomes.”
The natural fire in her eyes dimmed and she pulled away. She slid out a barstool and patted the seat next to her.
They settled, each with a foot bracing on the floor and one kicked up onto a support bar.
“I certainly didn’t know I could do what I did to Trance. I don’t think my mom even knew.” Fleeting sadness crossed her face. “I can release various combustion-related gases. Start fires, of course, create heat.”
He skimmed her hair with his gaze, then dropped it to her wringing hands in her lap. “With what body parts?”
“I’ve never thought about it. I just do it…with whatever seems right.”
“Bodily fluids?”
“Like sizzling spit? Only if I want it to.” Her sultry smile reminded him that their last two times together had been too quick.
“Then why all the accidental fires?”
She tucked her hands under her bum and rocked side to side. “I get a little emotional…”
“What emotions?”
“The typical. Fear, anxiety, anger. Anger’s a big one.” Her lips turned down and she stared at the wall. “I never get that angry. I never really get angry.”
“You get pissed and someone gets fried?”
“Possibly.”
“No idea how to control it?” Any advice she had, he needed. The more he was around her, the more of his own power was expressed and he had his own issues with control.
“Stryke said I’m more powerful than anyone assumes, but I won’t be if I don’t control it.”
“Stryke seems to be the one with the answers.”
“I think I like him so much because he reminds me of me.” She chuckled. “Two demons born into the wrong realm, coveted by those bad for our health. Sounds like a bad plot.” She released her hands. “Enough about this stuff. I’m tired and we need to have some dirty sex before we hunt Godet.”
He was off his stool and swooping her up before she’d finished her sentence.
***
By the time the sun set, Fyra and Bishop were waiting in the garage by a sizeable SUV. She had a borrowed gun and knife from him strapped under her mom jeans and turtleneck. How she’d ever get to them under her layers of clothing, well, it’d be interesting.
Betty knew how to cover the maximum amount of flesh with the most uncomfortable material. Fyra loved wearing denim, but this stuff was ten times thicker and more unforgiving than the fires of Hell. The floral print on her turtleneck made her think of drapes from the seventies. Fyra and her mother had burned a few during their time, out of the principle that something so ugly shouldn’t be allowed to exist. The world should thank them.
But the shoes were comfortable. Fyra peered down at her size twelves, not an easy score for a woman. And she knew this brand of athletic shoes crept toward two hundred dollars a pair. Betty was forgiven.
Maybe not. Fyra winced as she bent over and the waist of her pants cut under her ribs. She should buy all of these pairs and bring them home to sell as a new-age torture device.
“Ready?” Zoey entered the bay, looking no-nonsense and badass. In other words, normal. And did her hair require holders to stay in that bun anymore? It probably wouldn’t know how to fall free if the female stood in the middle of a Freemont blizzard.
Fyra eyed her outfit with envy. Not because it also showed as little skin as her own, but because the material moved with Zoey’s movements like a second skin, as good as nudity.
Rourke walked next to his fellow vampire, wearing a mask of perpetual irritation.
It might not be a mask. When Fyra had studied the team, she’d never seen him smile, unlike Bishop’s easy grin.
Her and Bishop had actually laughed during sex before they’d slept for the day. Belly laughed.
Snow had started falling after one of his climaxes and in his frustration at trying, and failing, to stop it, it’d turned to pelting sleet. Fy
ra had wielded her fingers like toy guns and zapped as many particles as she could with each blast.
Except for a few scorch marks on the walls, there was nothing but soggy sheets to know anything had been amiss.
Zoey held up some keys. “We ride in the same vehicle.”
Her tone made it clear who was in charge and the males moved without hesitation. Fyra got into the backseat next to Bishop, whose legs pressed against the front seat. More room than a car, but Bishop must’ve wanted to be with her. No one argued and Rourke rode shotgun.
Fyra marveled over the seamless nature of how the team functioned. Even in the conference room when emotions had been tense, they’d all respected Demetrius and deferred to him. Zoey was the equivalent of second-in-command, though Fyra didn’t know how she justified it when she was also on the Synod.
So Fyra asked.
A delicate eyebrow arched. The female was a few inches shorter than Fyra, still tall compared to human women, but she’d pass more for a runway model than a warrior.
“I didn’t fuck up like D did a couple of months ago. I have no mate to be dedicated to more than my work, and my work protecting the species the Synod strives to protect has been my life’s dedication.” Her lips flattened.
So, there was a story. Bishop had said Zoey had lost her true mate. Was it the job that had interfered with the mate, or had the mate interfered with the job?
Zoey flipped the blinker, about to turn in a direction that’d take them away from where the showdown with Rancor had happened, probably to another mansion-filled neighborhood full of primes.
“No.” Fyra leaned forward. “Demons are creatures of habit. He’ll go back to the same place over and over again. Like last time, he thought it’d be the last place you’d look. I’m sure you’ll find him there, or close by, or with old friends of Godet’s.”
Zoey’s skeptical gaze caught hers in the rearview mirror, then flicked over to Bishop’s. Rourke watched Zoey, and Bishop nodded.
She switched the blinker and changed course.
Bishop (New Vampire Disorder Book 3) Page 18