by Kat Cotton
“Sit down. We have things to discuss.”
I sat down on the sofa. It was a really comfortable sofa.
“Nice Airbnb,” I said.
In an instant, his whole persona changed. The snarky look disappeared from his face and he seemed more animated.
“It’s not bad, although the kitchen has five apple corers and no colander.”
Why a vampire would need a colander beat me. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t going to whip up a pasta dish with a human blood sauce. Still, he had a point.
“Who even needs an apple corer?” I asked. I never knew such a thing existed.
“I know.” He sat down in the armchair next to me. The wingback chair framed him perfectly, and the color complemented his skin.
“So, what’s this about?”
He crossed his legs and leaned toward me. That made me turn my body toward him. I knew this matter was serious.
“The Demon Child. He needs to be stopped. I want you to take him out.”
Even though Kisho had told me that, I was surprised. Vampires do not want other vampires dead.
“Whoa, hold up there. I’m a Demon Fighter. I work for humans. I’m not about to become a hit man for a bunch of vamps.”
“But he killed a bunch of humans, massacred them. Don’t you want to save people and be a hero?”
His expression changed again. I wasn’t sure if those words were real or a challenge.
“I have no interest in being a hero, and I’m not really sure if being a hero comes from working for vampires. Once I start down a road like that, who knows where it will end?”
“It will probably end in a big chunk of cash.” He smiled at me again, that amazing smile instilled with a confidence that the person being smiled at would automatically agree to anything he said. And sure, it was a brilliant smile, but I could steel myself against it. The cash, not so much. Okay, my morals, like his gender roles, were fluid. Cash meant a lot to me.
I checked myself. I couldn’t take money from a vampire. It was the number one rule of the Demon Fighting Council. Instant expulsion, my license revolved. All those awards I’d won taken from me. You cannot ever, under any circumstance, work for any kind of paranormal creature. A little bit of fraternizing, they turned a blind eye to, especially if the demon ended up dusted afterwards, but taking money from a vampire, that was clear-cut.
“How much are we talking?”
No. I couldn’t do it. I really couldn’t. No matter how much I needed the cash.
Mentally, I set a limit. If he went above that, I’d consider it. There was no way he’d offer me that much, though.
He named a figure. I reeled back in my seat. That figure was so far above my limit, my head spun. I’d be living in clover for the next year at least. Why did people keep offering me cash with strings attached? Strings that I really didn’t like. Although, on the whole, I’d rather work for vampires than with a team of damn academics and their dithering.
“This is my whole future, buddy. If I get found out, I have no career. I have nothing.”
“So? Don’t get found out. I’m sure Mr. McConchie wouldn’t be so whipped by some stupid rules.”
He didn’t know McConchie that well, then. McConchie was all about the rules. But then he’d never been offered a job like this before either. Who knew what the promise of cash and kudos would do to a person?
Nic shot me that smile again. His smile should be registered as a weapon. Between the fat wad of cash and the smile, I struggled to say no. If I needed anything to tip the scales, it was knowing that money would go to Harry McConchie otherwise. I’d never want that poor cash suffering like that. It’d be much better off going to a good home where it was appreciated. I’d be like a money-mother. I’d tuck it into bed at night and sing it lullabies. Well, at least until I needed to spend it.
“So, say I do take on this job, what exactly is involved?”
“You find the Demon Child and stake him. Simple.”
“He’s no ordinary vampire,” I said.
“You should enjoy the challenge.” His smile this time was less charming, obviously intended to provoke me.
“I know nothing about him. Well, nothing beyond the basics. I have no idea when he’ll surface again or where he hides out.”
He shrugged. “You’re supposed to be the expert at this. If you are indeed the number one demon hunter in the world, then it should be a piece of cake.”
The money. The money called to me. The money needed me. I was the only one who could love it like it deserved to be loved.
“It’s not about whether I can do the job or not. It’s about the effort needed for the money. Stakeouts and the like are very time-consuming, my bloodsucking friend. You can’t just do a Google search for something like this. It takes time and—”
“There’s no time. You don’t seem to understand much about vampires.”
“Well…” I pushed my hair back from my face. “They aren’t my area of expertise. I’m more of an incubus kind of person.”
Incubi were so much less complicated. I guess that’s why he was offering the big bucks.
“This vampire is young. Very young in vampire years. Young vampires are stupid. They are all animal instincts, just wanting to feed. Usually, they get taken into a pack and get some kind of training. Or they are so full of bloodlust they die early. That weeds out the really stupid ones. But this Demon Child is strong. Way beyond anything I’ve known before. A young vampire shouldn’t have his strength. And he shouldn’t have that level of bloodlust.”
“A renegade vampire?”
He nodded.
“He’s approaching his one hundredth death day. Once he gets to that age, it’ll be too late. He’ll be out of control forever.”
“And usually he feeds three times.” I’d done some research. I knew that much. “Three big feedings, then it’s nap time again.”
Feeding three times, then sleeping had been the standard pattern up until the last time. Last time the Demon Child hadn’t fallen into a normal post-feed nap, he’d been put to sleep with magic. Strong magic to prevent him from waking up.
“Three times seems to be the standard. Often a week apart.”
“That gives me two weeks?”
“Seems about right.”
“And the mayor?” All I knew was that the mayor wanted the Demon Child outed.
“I haven’t put all the pieces together, but the mayor isn’t what he seems.”
Yeah, that seemed to be everyone’s favorite line at the moment.
“So, he’s paranormal?” I’d been working on a theory that the mayor was some kind of demon, and he’d glamoured everyone to think he was this totally swell guy.
“Don’t be stupid. He’s human. He has an agenda, though.”
“Well, he’s a politician.”
“So, you’ll take the job?” He smiled again. Damn him. He played me with that smile, and even while I knew I was being played, I enjoyed it.
“I’m on the fence.”
If I took this job, I’d be more mixed up with these vampires than I wanted. I didn’t like this guy. He was beautiful and hot and he could wrap me in a rainbow of sexual desires. I hated him. I hated him so much.
“I’ll throw in something to sweeten the pot,” he said.
Yeah, right. If I was strong enough to resist all the cash he offered, there wasn’t much sweeter.
“Tempt me all you like, I’m not risking my entire future for this job. What’s the sweetener?”
“Kisho,” he called.
“I don’t work with others.”
“He wouldn’t work with you. He’d work for you. He can do your research, make coffee, run errands, look pretty.”
Hell, there was no saving me. I’d take on his job.
Chapter 10: Lemon Fresh
What the hell? Was this my office? I walked back out and checked the name on the door. Yep, it said me. So, what had happened to the place?
The reception area smelled stran
ge. Had demons attacked? I sniffed the air. It wasn’t sulfur or brimstone. It was kinda pleasant and lemony-smelling. And the place gleamed. The desk had a glow to its surface—its empty surface. The shelves behind it also had a glow and, as well as the books of demon lore all lined up in order, the middle shelf held a bunch of flowers. Flowers? In my office? That was definitely not right.
Green carpet? Huh? No way. The carpet in my office had never been green. It was a sludgy grey color.
I shook myself and walked through the door to the inner office. My space.
The lemony smell lingered and something wasn’t quite right. The mustiness of old papers and cigarettes had gone. A gentle breeze blew through the windows, and the blind hung so the bottom edge was parallel to the windowsill.
This was not my office. I didn’t even have the urge to sneeze from the dust. On my desk, the pencils sat in an even line, ready for me to start work. A bunch of neatly typed notes sat beside the computer.
I was dreaming. I had to be. No space I occupied could look so good.
I’d fallen through a portal to another dimension. That was the obvious answer.
I heard a sound in the outer office and jumped up as someone clanged through the door.
Kisho walked into my office with a coffee mug in his hand. He set it down on my desk. Coffee and cleanliness, these were not things I was used to in my office. I waited for him to speak, some explanation of the night before. I dreaded to hear it but had to know. Instead, he smiled that sweet, shy smile as though the things I’d seen had never happened.
“I cleaned up a bit. I hope you don’t mind.”
What could I say to that?
“Umm… yeah… thanks.”
I should’ve been on the floor in gratitude at what he’d done, but who wouldn’t be suspicious about something like that? There was definitely more to this than met my eyes. I never took anything at face value, and this got all my alarms ringing. Still, I’d take the free cleaning and coffee while it was offered.
I sat down at my desk and took a sip of the coffee. Holy shit. He had to be some kind of angel to make coffee like that. It was preternaturally good. I’d never tasted coffee anywhere near as good in my entire life. I wanted to marry that guy even if he was Nic’s bitch. How the hell had he done it? There was a communal kitchen and bathroom at the end of the hall, but it only held a jar of ten-year-old clumped-up instant coffee and some chipped mugs with corporate logos on them.
This was a trap. Nic had to be behind it all. He wanted to make me his bitch too. For coffee like that, I’d almost be willing.
I picked up the notes that he’d set beside my computer and flipped through them. There was a ton of information about the Demon Child. He’d even color-coded it so I knew the source. Some from his own experiences over the last hundred years, some from various books. Hell, he’d consulted books I’d never heard of.
He was gay. That was the only explanation. Okay, maybe there were some unearthly reasons that explained the enigma that was Kisho, but the gay theory was the most likely. That had been totally a sex thing. I’m not sure why Nic had let me watch. Maybe he got off on it. He seemed like the type that got off on being watched. I mean, we all do, don’t we? And I had no real objection to watching two hot guys getting it on. I just didn’t want to waste my time lusting after a guy when I had zero chance with him. And I’d have liked a bit more closure to the whole thing. A money shot. Preferably, a literal money shot.
Hell, my feelings for Kisho had to be nipped in the bud. Snipped, like a Ziorohn demon’s dick. The kind that wiggled around on the ground for a full five minutes after you cut them off. That’s what my feelings would do—squirm, then turn black and shrivel up and die. Maybe I should ask him, just to confirm. Later, though. It wasn’t something you could rush into, and I didn’t want to look like I assumed he was gay just because he was neat and good at cleaning and let another dude whip him.
Maybe I needed to him to make a pie chart. Then I could see the size of the wedge that was the percent chance of him having sex with me. Also, the percent of sex with Nic would be handy.
Ah, fuck it. What I really wanted was a Venn diagram so I could see the divergence of “sex with Clem” and “sex with Nic.”
No.
No, I didn’t.
My life was complicated enough without adding sexually ambivalent BDSM vampires into the mix. The thought of it got me far too worked up.
I couldn’t clear my mind of Nic’s smile. Nic knew exactly what effect his smiles had. Like you could see him in front of a mirror, measuring at exactly which millimeter and curvature of his lips he’d have the most impact.
Kisho’s frowns and smiles and every other lust-inducing facial expression were made with no thought for the impact they’d have on people. Like he didn’t even know that having an impact on people was something that was possible.
I’d fallen asleep last night with the image of his naked back reddened by the crop. The way his muscles flinched from the contact. But mostly the way he’d crumpled to the floor sobbing. The sobbing. Oh my God. I would not get that out of my mind.
Any other guy, any other guy in the world, could cry like a little bitch in front of me and I’d laugh at him. I’d mock him mercilessly. But when Kisho did it, mocking was the last thing on my mind. Something about him crying shot straight to my vagina.
Why?
I liked my guys hard and rough. I wanted to be pushed against a wall, my clothes ripped off and my lady hole thoroughly pumped. Last night, in bed, I had not been thinking about hard grinding sex.
I struggled with it. I’d left the vamp lair filled with strange desires and crazy thoughts, my body throbbing with an aching need. I liked to kick guys’ asses, that was true, but domination? Not my thing. Not my thing until now.
Nic was a twisted little fuck, that was the truth. Why had he even put on that display? To torment me, or to torment Kisho? In part, he’d wanted to prove to me that the darkness in him was also in me. He’d wanted to draw me into his world.
As much as I wanted to, I refused to masturbate to the thought of him, of either of them.
I had no idea what his endgame was, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to delve into that. On the other hand, I had
that big bucket of cash. I’d do this job and leave them both far, far behind me. They could play their little games on their own.
“I’m just going to set my things up at the front desk, if that’s okay with you.”
Damn, I didn’t want the reality of him interrupting my fantasies.
I watched him walk out of my office. The welts on his back should hurt. Well, they should if you were human. Vampires heal quickly. Maybe he didn’t mention anything because being beaten was just a regular thing, like offering a visitor a cup of tea and some cake. He sure didn’t walk like he’d been injured.
I could call him back. I could ask him outright. A simple “are you gay?” or even “are you and Nic a couple?” would clear it up.
“Just a minute. You remember the last time he was awake?”
Kisho nodded. “I wasn’t in the same area but, of course, it caused problems. When a vampire goes off the rails like that, it gets a lot of attention. A life in the shadows is best.”
“So you can quietly feast on humans?”
“I don’t… I never…”
He blushed, like I’d accused him of something shameful. He was happy for me to see him tied and beaten, even crawling on the floor, sobbing, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of feeding? If he didn’t feed on humans, how did he survive?
“Even Nic doesn’t,” he added.
“He doesn’t feed?”
“He feeds, but he doesn’t hunt. People come to him willingly.”
“Because he thralls them.”
“He doesn’t thrall. He hates that. He says it’s a cheap, dirty trick. They volunteer. When he does the speaking circuit, there are always girls who find him afterwards. Without him ever saying he’s a vampire, they seem to
know and they offer themselves. Anyway, all I remember about the Demon Child is in there.”
He nodded at the folder of notes he’d prepared.
I flicked through them.
“What makes you think he’s looking for a father figure?” I asked.
He screwed up his face. “Makes sense. He’s got no pack, no leader. That means he’s regressed. Like those children raised by apes in the wild or something.”
I nodded. This case seemed pretty simple, really. We just had to find him. No one had any idea of where he’d gone after he’d left Soho.
As I read the notes, I realized we need to do stakeouts. I’d had my car repossessed six months ago and had been relying on public transport since then. This was a major operation, though. It wasn’t like tailing a simple vamp. I needed wheels.
“Hey, Kisho, get your stuff. We’re going to buy a car.”
Chapter 11: Mustang
“The sky-blue Mustang,” I said. I trailed my fingers along the door of the car. It was a thing of beauty.
Kisho mumbled something about that not being what Nic wanted. To hell with Nic, it’s what I wanted. I wanted a lot of things. Even more than the sky-blue Mustang, I wanted Kisho, but I had to put that desire on the back burner, so the car was my focus for the moment.
“I’m not sure that’s practical,” Kisho said. “It might make us a bit noticeable on stakeouts.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to be practical. I wanted that car.
“It matches my eyes.”
“We need to take this job seriously. Nic wants it done.” He frowned. That frown drove me madder than Nic’s smiles.
That damn Kisho walked through the car lot with me, just a little too close, the warmth of his body within reaching distance. Almost like he wanted me to touch him. That distance pulsated between us. I could touch him, but after what I’d seen, I wasn’t sure if I should.
He’d pointed out the blandest, boringest car on the whole lot. White, a few years old, family car.
“It’s so boring, I’d fall asleep driving it.”