Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian)

by Rowland, Diana

  I fought back a grin at Paul’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, what he said.”

  But Sonny’s expression grew more serious. “There’s something weird with that room since yesterday,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “The door’s closed, and I get queasy if I look at it too long.”

  My brief euphoria slipped away. “Shit,” I muttered. “It’s been warded. Sonny, you won’t be able to get in there.” I drummed my fingers on the table as I considered our plans and the giant gaping holes that now appeared in them. “As it stands now, Mzatal can’t go in because the alarm would be raised and Angela would get a gun to her head, but if Paul can get his doogle—”

  “Dongle,” he corrected.

  I snorted. “If Paul can get his dongle to the server room, then he can shut their comms and alarm down and all sorts of other good stuff. But it looks like only someone with the ability to remove wards can get into the server room.” I smiled tightly. “I think that leaves me.”

  Sonny grimaced. “Easier said than done. First you have to get onto the plantation grounds, which isn’t even remotely easy. Fenced perimeter, surveillance, the works. And even if you manage that, then you need to look as if you’re supposed to be there for long enough to do the thing to the server room. Problem is, it’s in the main house, and everyone knows everyone else. Not like you can pretend to be a new hire or something.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for taking Mr. Farouche down, but—”

  “Paul tracked your car today,” Bryce interrupted, eyes bright and expression determined. “You made a forty-three minute stop at the residence of Amaryllis Castlebrook and then staked out her workplace. You prepping for a grab?”

  I swung my attention to Bryce, surprised and thoroughly impressed by the tidbit of information and follow-through. Though Mzatal said nothing, I felt his focus intensify as he read the two men’s nuances faster and with greater clarity than they could speak.

  “It’s scheduled for tonight,” Sonny said, then comprehension dawned on his face only an instant behind my own.

  “You take me instead,” I breathed. Damn I loved my posse.

  “Everything’s easier now,” Bryce said, voice rich with satisfaction.

  Sonny looked off into the distance, no doubt running through the possibilities. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It could work.”

  An ugly thought wormed into my mind. “Sonny, is Rhyzkahl at the compound now? Or has he been there since yesterday?” I couldn’t unwind the wards if he’d set them.

  At Sonny’s puzzled look, Bryce clarified, “Mega-Fabio.”

  “No,” he said. “He hasn’t been around for a few months. But I suspect he’s coming back.” Anger deepened the lines in his face. “Rumor has it that’s who this pickup is for.”

  My mouth curved into a tight and cold smile. “Even more perfect. When are you supposed to grab her?”

  “Tonight, between nine and ten as she leaves a cocktail party at Bimini Bay restaurant in Villafleur—about an hour from here,” he said. “First night of a corporate training seminar being held at the hotel down the street.” He shrugged, then exhaled. “Take her tonight, and she won’t be missed for two days.”

  Bryce glanced at me. “Abductees are always brought in at night,” he explained.

  Sonny nodded in agreement. “And any bad shit happens indoors, away from prying satellite eyes.”

  “Nice to know Farouche has a solid business plan,” I said with a snort. “We’ll ask Ryan and Zack to collect Amaryllis before the party and get her to a safe house.”

  “Sonny, who’s with you?” Bryce asked.

  Distaste touched his mouth. “Jerry.”

  Jerry. The one Bryce said loved his job and didn’t lose sleep at night over it. The one who brought Amber to be raped and murdered. “Does Jerry or anyone else know what Amaryllis looks like?” I asked. “It’ll be pointless to try and sub for her if it’s obvious I’m not the mark.”

  Sonny peered at me. “Jerry’s expecting a blond twenty-something,” he said. “With a good wig you’d pass for her well enough. Plus, I’d bring you in hooded, and no one will check since no one crosses Mr. Farouche.” He paused, then shifted, his face coloring slightly. “But, ah, the other girl is more, um . . .” His flush deepened as he gestured vaguely with both hands.

  “Endowed?” I offered, hiding my amusement at his discomfort.

  “Yeah. Curvy.” He winced. “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool.” I grinned. “In fact it’s perfect. Now I have a place to hide my weapons.”

  Chapter 37

  Plans and preparations for the infiltration and raid on the plantation could have easily turned into pure chaos and been doomed to failure from the start, but Bryce took firm charge with an uncompromising hand. Even Mzatal deferred to his judgment, to my surprise and relief. Within two hours of leaving the Nature Center, and with the help of Paul, Ryan, and Zack, we had maps and satellite imagery, a communication system, and all sorts of other gear that I never would have thought we’d need but suddenly realized that yes, we most certainly did.

  And, most of all, we had a plan. Sonny and I: infiltrate and get me to the server room for the dongle-thing. Paul: take down comms and security. Mzatal: strip the wards and burn through the fence. Sonny and Bryce: Rescue Angela Palatino and get her through the fence and off the property. Zack and Ryan: watch our backs. Everyone: Do whatever is needed to Acquire Idris.

  At about seven p.m. Zack arrived at the house bearing a wig, dress, shoes, and appropriate padding for my role as Amaryllis. I immediately fell in love with the dress, and silently promised myself that after all of this was over I’d have it tailored to fit my normal not-as-curvy figure. Alluring without being slutty, it had a gathered bodice and a side-slit skirt—both of which would allow me plenty of freedom of movement. Most importantly, it came with a sheer and clinging black lace top that slipped over the dress and covered every inch of the sigil scars without reducing the allure level one bit. I didn’t even mind that the sleeves of the lace top were a bit too small. Muscles, I thought with a grin. I gots ’em.

  It took me damn near a half an hour to get the dress and my pseudo-curves adjusted properly to accommodate and hide my little Keltec .32 in a slim thigh holster, but I eventually achieved concealment, along with a voluptuous look I doubted I’d ever be able to achieve by natural means. That accomplished, Paul, Zack, and Eilahn continued to load me up with other necessary equipment. My watch doubled as a GPS tracker, I had a backup tracker shoved somewhere around my right boob, and beneath the left was Paul’s dongle. And yes, I giggled every time I thought about Paul’s dongle. Finally, Eilahn and Zack double-teamed me to get the wig and makeup just right, then stepped back so I could see the result in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

  “Wow,” I said. Then said it again. “Wow.”

  I didn’t look anything like me. The woman in the mirror was sweet and curvy and harmless, with an almost-shy smile on rosebud lips, and honey-blond hair that somehow gave her grey eyes an interesting hazel tinge.

  “Kara,” Eilahn said, eyes on me. I jerked my gaze away from the reflection and stepped away so I couldn’t see it anymore.

  “Yes.” I’m Kara. It was a reflection. Black dress and lace sleeves, wig and shoes and all. The woman in the mirror wore a ring with a cracked stone—

  I shook my head sharply. No, Kara wore that ring. I wore that ring. I looked down at it on my hand. Amaryllis would never wear a ring like this. Too bold, too unique. But Kara would. Cracked stone and all, because the ring and the stone and the crack held a meaning that couldn’t possibly be conveyed in mere words.

  I looked back up at them. “I’m ready.”

  Eilahn exchanged a quick glance with Zack, then returned her attention to me. “No, you are not,” she said firmly, gripped my upper arm, and walked me to the back of the house.

&n
bsp; “What the hell?” I asked, baffled.

  Mzatal stepped onto the porch as Eilahn escorted me through the back door. “The containment,” she stated, which was apparently all the information Mzatal required.

  “Oh,” I said, voice small. Shit. I hadn’t even realized.

  “Zharkat,” he murmured as he lifted a hand to my cheek. I felt the conflict within him, felt him waver in his willingness to risk me for the sake of Idris.

  “Boss.” I squared my shoulders and shoved aside the gnawing worry. “It’s my choice to go do this. Idris is my family.” Whether by blood or not, the truth of it remained. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t even try. You can reinforce the containment, right?”

  He exhaled. “I can.” His thumb stroked across my cheek. “And now I have.”

  I smiled, took his hand and laid a kiss in his palm. “Then we’re all good. As soon as we have Idris, we’ll take our asses back to the demon realm, and you and Elofir can fix this shit right up.”

  “So we shall.” He kissed me, eyes remaining warm on mine for a moment more. Finally, he gave a nod to Eilahn, then turned and strode to the mini-nexus, hands clasped behind his back.

  I returned to my bedroom with Eilahn and allowed her to fuss over my wig and makeup one more time, and after a few minutes she nodded, satisfied. “It is time to depart,” she said and took my hands. “Is there aught else you require?”

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “Can’t think of a thing.”

  “I will never be far from you,” she stated with such fierce loyalty that I felt tears come to my eyes. “Dahn!” She pulled her hands from mine and snatched a tissue from a box on the dresser to dab at my eyes. “You will smear your cosmetics if you weep!” She wore such a look of asperity on her face that I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Okay, okay! I won’t mess up the makeup.”

  Eilahn finished dabbing, stepped back and eyed me critically before giving me a satisfied nod. “Kara Gillian, you will indeed kick all the ass.”

  “Damn straight,” I said fervently. “I was taught by the best.”

  • • •

  This is not ass-kicking. This is hell.

  “Who the hell knew telecommunications analysts could be so rowdy?” I muttered as I narrowly dodged a slosh of wine from the giggling woman beside me. I edged away from her, turned down yet another slurred offer that I assumed was sexual in nature, and finally found a place to put my back against the wall. I’d been “mingling” in the crowded bar area for the past thirty minutes while I waited for everyone to get into position, and had fended off more passes in that time than I’d received in my entire life. I was damn near ready to trace an aversion ward on my ass.

  “It’s considered one of the most boring jobs to have, Kara,” Paul told me in an amused voice through the tiny receiver tucked into my ear. “Can you blame them for letting loose when they have the chance?”

  “Yeah, well, the guy whose hand ‘let loose’ up my skirt is sporting some cracked metatarsals now,” I said. My stomp reaction had been swift and instinctive, and I’d slipped away through the press of the crowd while the assailant whined in pain. He probably never even realized the sweet blond thing had a bite. Okay, maybe there was a little ass-kicking.

  Luckily I didn’t have to worry about breaking character until I got outside. Nobody in here would ever think I was pretending to be Amaryllis Castlebrook—if any of them even knew her in the first place. To them I was simply another partying teleco-whatever on the first night of what was probably a deathly dull training seminar.

  “Serves the jerk right, Kara,” Paul said, then added, “It’s the dress. Even I think you look smokin’ hot. And you look really good with blond hair.”

  I hid a grin and pretended to take a sip of my drink. Paul was right—the dress rocked, even if I did have to pad the curves a bit. “Maybe I’ll try blond highlights once all this is done,” I said, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone, since I’d learned it was interpreted as an invitation to come annoy me. “I’m ready to ditch the wig, though. It itches. And I think one of the bobby pins has worked its way through my skull.”

  Paul chuckled. “I’ll get you a purple heart, Kara.”

  “Hey, Paul? What’s with the sudden obsession with my name?”

  He cleared his throat. “Orders from above,” he said a bit sheepishly. “Eilahn and Zack and Mzatal want me to keep, er, reminding you who you are.”

  A warm fuzzy glow started somewhere in my middle, and I felt a silly grin spread across my face. “Y’all are so fucking awesome it’s stupid.”

  “It’s a posse thing, Kara,” he said with a laugh. I heard some soft beeps in the background, and when he spoke again he was all business. “Got the ping from Ryan. Amaryllis is safe and away, and all’s clear.” Earlier the two FBI agents had gently scooped up Ms. Castlebrook as she stepped out of her hotel room, leaving me to be her doppelganger at the cocktail party.

  “And now I have Sonny’s signal,” he continued. “He’s on the corner half a block down, waiting for you.” He paused. “Good luck, Kara.”

  “Thanks, Paul,” I murmured. I glanced at my watch. Nine p.m. Amaryllis was going to make an early night of it. “Here goes everything.” I set my drink on a side table and slipped through the crowd to the door, my little Keltec a comforting weight in the thigh holster. Having Paul in my ear was another major comfort. He was coordinating the entire operation from his tablet for portability, and he’d rigged up everyone with nifty communicators like mine. All except for Mzatal, since he received annoying bursts of static any time he manipulated potency. The plan was for Paul to stay pretty much glued to Mzatal’s side for this thing, so it hopefully wouldn’t make any difference that the Boss wasn’t wired up.

  Exiting the restaurant, I faked a slight stumble on the bottom step as if I was a little intoxicated—after first making sure no one nearby was looking my way. Last thing I wanted was for someone to offer to walk me back to the hotel, either out of kindness or with more insidious intent in mind. Either way, they’d no doubt end up hurt. My performance was for the two men waiting down the street. They were watching, I knew, even if I couldn’t see them yet.

  The hotel was around the corner and half a block down. I looped my purse over my shoulder, headed down the sidewalk, and did my best to act relaxed and oblivious.

  “Sonny’s ahead and to your right, Kara,” Paul told me, no doubt watching my progress through hacked security and traffic cameras in addition to monitoring my location via my GPS trackers.

  “Got it,” I murmured. I stepped off the curb to cross a well-lit corner parking lot, bordered by manicured bushes and colorful flower beds. Just the sort of place a naïve girl would let her guard down. Moreover, it made perfect sense for a woman wearing heels to cut through the lot. Sonny sure as hell knew his business.

  Sonny, appearing utterly harmless and seeming to pay absolutely no attention to me, stood near the exit to the street, looking at nothing in particular as he spoke on his phone. As I made my way across the mostly empty lot, I noted his approach in my peripheral vision, but only because I was totally expecting it.

  “Hey, hon’?” he said in a voice pitched with concern. I feigned a startle and an appropriately wary look, but the gentle smile he turned on me would have disarmed a Navy SEAL. “You’d better be careful. Looks like you’ve had too much to drink.” He took a step closer. “Where’s your car? I’ll help you.”

  In the shadows by the building a lanky man in a dark suit leaned against a white Lexus SUV, and I only noticed him because I knew he’d be there. Jerry Steiner, the man who’d brutally raped Amber before Katashi murdered her.

  I kept my gaze away from him though, and stayed in my role. “Um, I’m fine thanks,” I said, adding in a shy little bite of my lower lip. “My hotel’s right down the street.” I let out a girlish titter, then had to clamp d
own on a scowl as Paul snorted in laughter. I turned away and continued walking through the lot, more than a little curious about how Sonny expected to pull off a quiet abduction in a place that was still somewhat public.

  “You sure you’re okay to walk that far?” Sonny fell into step beside me and touched my arm, and not in a skeevy way. In fact, a sensation of calm flowed over me. I felt relaxed, not at all nervous or worried or feeling any need to be cautious. Ohhhhh, now, that’s damn interesting.

  “I only had one glass of wine,” I told Sonny, utterly fascinated by his effect. The dude was like a walking pygah. It wasn’t something that lulled me into somnolence or fogged my thinking, either. I still had no problem assessing my situation and locating threats. If anything, my focus was sharper, simply because I was so calm.

  But I knew exactly what was going on here. Turn that pygah-mojo on an unsuspecting mark, and they wouldn’t stand a chance. And Farouche’s merchandise arrives in good condition and not completely freaked out.

  Sonny caught my elbow. “I think you had more than one,” he said, maintaining the same calm tone. He too was playing a role. He had to follow the typical mode of operation to the letter to keep Jerry from getting suspicious. In other words, I thought, this is exactly how he grabbed all of those other women.

  He leaned close and lowered his voice, though I knew there was a chance his partner could still hear. “Listen to me,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you unless you give me trouble. Even think about making a sound, and I’ll drop you.” He shifted his other hand to show the stun gun in it. “You’re going to get in the backseat of my car, nice and quiet.”

  You stun gun me and I will kick your ASS, I thought, but I widened my eyes in shock and got into the role. “Wh-what? No . . . no!”

  The calm flowed over me. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, and with the words came a sense that he truly meant it. He didn’t want to hurt me. Everything would be alllll right if I simply did as he asked. “But I will if I have to,” he continued, and I beliieeeeved that as well.