He smirked. “Yeah, I suppose it does. Plan on making me scrub toilets?”
“Tempting,” I said. It was, too, since Boice had reminded me of my bathroom cleaning duties. But I had something else in mind, something better suited to D’s skills and temperament. “But I have something else in mind for you if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for anything.” He said it in a way that made heat creep up my cheeks and down to a few other places. Then he frowned. “You trust me?”
“Not as far as I can throw you,” I said, which wasn’t quite true. “You owe me some answers.” I wanted those answers, but at the moment, I was more concerned about survival.
“I’ll explain everything to you, I swear,” he said. Then, he pulled out his demon knife from its sheath on his hip, and without taking his gaze off me, he held up his arm and scored his wrist. He held up the knife, its crimson glow brightening as drops of his blood sizzled on its sharp edge.
Oh no, no way. I wasn’t making another demon bargain tonight.
“Relax,” he said. He took a deep breath and locked his gaze on the glowing knife. “I swear by my blood to guard your back, to fight at your side, and to protect you from your enemies, Jane McGee. If I betray you or this sacred vow, I forfeit my life and my soul.”
Magic washed over me in dark tendrils. D vibrated with its power as the knife lit up with a series of sigils that sealed the pact. I stood, stunned. He’d sworn allegiance to me with his blood. Demons didn’t make pacts lightly, and they were binding. Sure, there were loopholes and provisos, but D hadn’t left any ambiguity in his promise.
Shaking off the effects of the magic, he sheathed his knife and looked at me, brow arched. “Now that we’ve established my intentions, what can I do to help with this case?”
I cleared my throat, not quite sure what to say. “Thank you” wouldn’t be right, and I didn’t think he’d appreciate “are you out of your freakin’ mind?” I settled on giving him a task that would help me while giving me time to process ten years’ worth of emotions unleashed by his sudden and unexpected return.
“I’m assigning you to investigate all the known summoners in the city. I don’t care how you interrogate them or for how long, find which ones helped Mephisto gain access to earth. I’d also like to know if he went back to the hell realm by the same portal or if he might still be on earth. Oh, and find out if they let any other unauthorized demons through.”
He nodded, his grin turning positively wicked. “Good call. I happen to be an expert at interrogation. Text me the list, and I’ll get on it.”
Wow, that was…easy. I’d half expected him to argue for a more important assignment or to react with stoicism, but he seemed excited at the prospect. It was weird. It was also kind of hot. Heat crept into my cheeks. Was I blushing? Ugh. I was far too old to be blushing. I didn’t look and rarely acted my age, but blushing like a silly schoolgirl?
Ridiculous.
“Okay, good,” I said, faltering a bit. He’d thrown me off, the bastard. “I’ll get busy on Murkowski and then figure out what to do with my family. How about we meet up tomorrow night? You can come here if you want. We can talk about the case.”
I was silky smooth. He’d come over under the guise of working on the case—which we would be—and I would blindside him with a little interrogation of my own. He owed me more than a few answers.
“Midnight,” he said. “I’ll have answers one way or another.”
The way he said another sent shivers down my spine, but that was why I’d put him on the summoners. The midlevel ones would be easy to screen. With any luck, Roice would have that done by now. It would take Lacey and Alexi a little longer to hit all the portals, so I’d have to settle for hitting the books, or rather, the book. I hoped it would give me the lowdown on Belial and his rebellion.
I’d have to get Trinity in on the book research, too. She’d been itching to get her hands on this one for ages. I might not even have to bribe her with donuts this time.
And I was totally going to bend the corners of the pages just to spite my asshole boss.
I fished out my car keys and tossed them to D. “I assume you know what I drive.”
“Yes.”
“Can I also assume you know where I parked?” Because I didn’t remember.
He laughed. “I’m sure I can work it out. Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”
Not likely, but I appreciated the sentiment. He’d just fired up the engine when I yelled, “Wait, I don’t have your number.” I kind of needed it to text him my demon summoner hit list.
My phone pinged, and I dug it out of my pocket to read the text message.
* * *
Dominic’s number.
* * *
That was it? Guess he wasn’t into small talk or sexting. I gave him a thumbs-up and dragged Mara inside the building and into the elevator. Thank goodness I didn’t run into any of my neighbors or management. Didn’t really matter. I was the building weirdo, and they generally steered clear of me. When we exited at the ginormous penthouse suite I shared with my demon roomies—paid for by the boss—I arranged a date for Mara with my shower and checked in with said demon roomies.
My two favorite pains in the ass, one for each cheek, were settled at their desks. Identical twins who assumed the appearance of tall, lanky teens with dirty blond hair and the usual fascination with smartphones, their forms betrayed their true natures and their true ages. They were the twin demons of technology. At least, that’s what they told me. More powerful and higher ranking than the average tempter demon, they were relatively young, as was mortal technology in the grand scheme of the hell realm time scale—appearing on the scene sometime after the end of the Civil War and rising to power during the Industrial Revolution. I wasn’t sure whether the damning article from an evangelical website that they’d produced as evidence was legit, but they were freakishly good with electronics, computers, and mechanical devices, so I decided to just go with it.
They’d insisted on mirror-imaging their workstations to creep me out, or possibly confuse me. It worked. I could only tell them apart by their T-shirts and by getting a peek at their computer screens. Boice spent his time writing fanfiction and surfing the stock market, while Roice enjoyed online RPGs and stirring the political pot with fake news and scandals.
Mostly harmless. He also made killer memes.
Boice deigned to look up from one of his screens first to greet me. “Hey, Jinx. Heard you caused quite the shit storm at HQ.”
His brother looked up then, identical faces staring at me with interest and something suspiciously like admiration. Roice grinned. “Wish I’d been there to see it. You’re like one of those yappy little chihuahuas who barks at everybody because you’re so tiny.”
I snorted. “You mean the ones who make pit bulls turn tail and run? Yup, that’s me. Did you get that list of scumbag summoners for me?”
“Did I get the list? Pshaw, that was easy. Already texted you the deets. Give me a real challenge next time.” He rolled his chair over to another part of his workstation and started clicking away on a keyboard in front of a screen filled with images of contraband materials and Bitcoin values.
“Surfing the dark web again?” I shuddered at the thought of the transactions made on whatever site Roice had found. Drugs didn’t bother me much, but weapons and human trafficking did. The ordinary humans running these rackets were even worse. The twins took out said human trash in their spare time.
“Yeah.” Roice grinned at the computer screen. “No demons tonight, but I’ve got a ring of kiddie porn distributors lined up. Hungry, bro?” While the twins found and banished the occasional mammon, aka greed tempter demon, behind contraband trade, the souls of human traffickers and their clientele were fair game for the demon brothers, satisfying their considerable appetites. I was cool with it. Good riddance to the dregs of humanity.
“Save some for Mara, okay?” I figured the succubus could use her talents to help flush
out their prey. She’d need more than a few gremlins to tide her over. “And find out everything you can on a demon lord named Belial and any hell realm rebellions he may or may not have led—and any he’s planning to lead.”
“Why not ask his demon messenger? Hannah’s got him, right?”
“No.” I said it extra loud so my demon could hear it from wherever in my consciousness she was hiding. “That would be too easy. D caught him and brought him to HQ, but then he got away. Apparently, he traded information to Hannah for his freedom and she let him go. Anyway, Mephisto’s in the wind, or maybe in the sewer. Not sure how he travels. Hannah said she was sending a message back to his boss, this Belial demon lord.”
Roice whistled long and low. “There’s a rabbit hole I never thought we’d go down.” Turning back to his screen, he said, “If that’s the case, odds are Mephisto hightailed it back to the hell realm to deliver Hannah’s reply in person, or he may have sent the message back through other channels so he could stick around, grab another host, and have another shot at taking you and Hannah with him. I’m on it.”
“And before you ask, no, Hannah hasn’t told me anything. Mephisto told her something. I think he helped her get some of her memories back, but she’s not sharing any of them with me. I don’t know why unless she’s mad at me for making that bargain with the boss.”
Roice laughed, twirling in his chair. I got a glimpse of tonight’s T-shirt, a lovely mocha number emblazoned with “Shh… Nobody cares” on the chest. I’d have to steal it when he wasn’t looking. “Who isn’t mad at you?”
He made a fair point. I turned to Boice. “Murkowski?”
He nodded. “I took care of the medical bills. You’re lucky he’s insured. Otherwise, you’d be in the red this month. Again.” Pushing a stray lock of dirty blond hair off his forehead, he gave me a frown that seemed suspiciously like concern. “Seriously, let me invest for you. I’ll make you a billionaire in less than a year.”
Oh, man, that was tempting. But that was what demons did. “I never pegged you for the patron demon of greed, but I might have to reclassify you. I am not a cheater. No insider trading. Period.”
Boice’s shoulders sagged, obscuring the message on his red T-shirt. It read, “If you need anything from me, reconsider.” Oh, the irony. My demon boy really did have his heart in the right place, just not his methods. Still, I was seriously rethinking my ethics. At the rate I was going on my own, I’d never be able to retire.
“Suit yourself,” Boice said. Perking up, he asked, “Where’s our guest?”
Naturally, Roice perked up, too. “I haven’t seen a succubus in ages. Is she hungry?” He wagged his brows, and I rolled my eyes.
“Give her a break tonight, fellas. The boss almost sent her back to the hell dimension through a reverse summoning portal.”
Their gazes darkened, and they both muttered “asshole” under their breaths.
“I stopped him,” I said, earning more admiring glances—or maybe they were just ogling my boobs. “But I kind of, sort of forged a blood pact with the boss to find out how Mephisto made it onto the earth dimension. I have to root out the summoner or summoners who helped him and close the portal so we can stop Belial from kidnapping me and Hannah for his demon rebellion. If I don’t do it in six days, counting today, my family and I will face a fate worse than death.”
“We heard,” Roice said.
Then both of their gazes went wide, and they turned to one another and said, in unison, “I call dibs on her half of the suite.”
Ah, demons. Loyal to the bone.
Chapter Eleven
I managed to catch a few Z’s before getting up at the butt crack of dawn—something I rarely did—and heading out to interview Mr. Murkowski. I left notes on the twins’ computers reminding them that my soul, and thus their squatters’ rights, were in jeopardy, and that Mara was off-limits. They had work to do, not fellow demons. Like most males, they thought they could handle Mara if they worked together—gross—and it would be totally worth the recovery time to get with a succubus.
And I was pretty sure she’d devour them for their sparkling personalities alone.
I also left Mara a legal pad and a note asking her to write down everything she knew about Mephisto’s mission and Belial. Then I sent a text to Lacey, setting up a rendezvous at the portal through which Mephisto might have entered. I texted Trinity and told her about the book, which I’d left with my roomies, and her research assignment. The twins’ cell phones rang about two seconds later, forcing them out of bed with a slew of groans and curses.
Trinity had been drooling over that book for years and was no doubt gunning to get started. I loved that woman, and not because she was the perfect alarm clock for my lazy demon roomies.
That was just a bonus.
Finally, I scheduled an evening staff meeting at my place using food and an open bar as incentive.
I was totally charging that to the boss’s account. It might be one of my last meals.
I pushed worry about the loss of my soul and my family’s safety aside—I’d had contingency plans for them since I started the demon-hunting gig—to focus on investigating. Feeling uncharacteristically professional, I parked my freshly washed and waxed car, courtesy of D, and waltzed into one of the many midtown hospitals and asked to see Murkowski. Boice had gotten me on the list of authorized visitors. I loved having hackers at my service. Gathering my bag of goodies, I knocked softly on his door.
“Come in.” Murkowski’s hoarse voice was barely audible through the door. No wonder. He’d been intubated. Because I was a masochist, I’d read his chart and mentally flogged myself over the man’s injuries.
At least the tube was out now.
The room was bright and seemed cheerful for a hospital suite. Balloons and flowers crowded the counter and floor space around Murkowski’s bed, well wishes from friends, family, and colleagues. The man formerly known in my mind as Bad Santa appeared less than jolly, but his eyes sparkled, and his beard had been neatly trimmed. He sported the standard-issue hospital gown, of course.
Too bad. I kind of missed the Hawaiian shirt.
“Good morning.” I plastered on my best winning smile as I walked in, dodging balloons, vases, and medical equipment. “How are you feeling today?”
He chuckled. “I’ve had better days. You a nurse?” The question was infused with humor. I’d skipped the camo and tank top, but jeans and a formfitting V-neck T-shirt weren’t exactly nurse attire.
“Nope, I’m an investigator.” I straightened, doing my best to look more authoritative. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your attack in the alley last night if you’re feeling up to it.”
He grimaced as he adjusted the bed, bringing him to a sitting position. He had an IV drip running through his right arm and was also tethered to a blood pressure monitor. The flimsy hospital gown did little to bolster his jolly Santa appearance.
Nor did the bruises.
“I told the police all I remember,” he said, averting his gaze. Didn’t take a demon lie detector to spot that big fat whopper. Then again, who’d believe him?
I pulled up a rolling doctor’s chair, plopped down beside him, and took out my very official-looking pad and pen. “I get it, and I’m not with the police. I’m part of a special investigation unit that investigates unusual cases. You can speak freely.” I leaned in closer. “This is strictly confidential. My only concern is catching the entity who did this to you and making sure it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
His body jerked, and he sat up straighter. Ouch. That had to hurt. I put my hand on his shoulder and eased him back. “Take it easy, Mr. Murkowski. You’ve got a concussion. No sudden moves.”
He leaned back but still eyed me through a narrowed gaze. I got that a lot. People were so mistrustful. Then again, I had several advantages in delicate situations like this, not the least of which was a nice pair of boobs. I adjusted Santa’s blankets while my girls hopefully put him at ease.
/> My height, or lack thereof, worked, too. Gave folks the idea I was younger than I was, cute, and totally harmless.
Murkowski squared his shoulders and sat up again, though not as quickly. He cocked his head to the side and examined me—my face, not my boobs. Weird. Finally, he said, “I don’t remember everything, but I do know you were there.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You did some pretty freaky stuff, too.”
“I did indeed. So did you, as I recall.” I wagged my eyebrows at him, and a blush spread across his cheeks. I caught a flash of deep sorrow in his gaze. Poor guy.
I sat back down on the rolling chair and put on my best I’m-in-charge-here face. “What else do you remember? Do you know how you got to the alley?”
He laughed, or tried to. It started as a laugh and ended in a dry, rasping cough. “You’re the first person who’s given it to me straight in the past twenty-four hours. What were you doing in the alley?”
I grinned. Bad Santa was no fool. “I asked you first.”
To sweeten the deal, I pulled out one of the items from my goody bag. I draped the thick, fuzzy blanket over Murkowski’s feet. Hannah infused it with a bit of warmth. At least she was communicating with me again, even though she hadn’t deigned to give me any answers. And at least she was helping.
“If you want to keep me as a host,” I said in my head, “you’d better get with the program and help me solve this case so we can save my ass.”
Do not fear. I am with you, and all will be revealed in time.
She didn’t seem concerned. In fact, I sensed smugness and calculation before she retreated into the depths of consciousness.
Cryptic much? Maybe I could get that little nugget of nonsense stitched on a pillow.
Murkowski groaned as he wiggled his toes underneath the toasty blankie. I almost had him. Digging into my bag, I pulled out a smaller paper sack from which the mouthwatering scents of deep-fried goodness wafted. I’d read his updated file, generously provided by my roomies. It confirmed the guy loved burgers and fries. Honestly, who didn’t?
Catching Hell Page 9