“Can’t I?” he said, his gaze lasering through me. He looked determined. More than that. Dogged. Relentless. Like come hell or high water, he wasn’t going to lose this fight.
Sudden foreboding swept over me, and every hair on my body prickled. My mouth went dry as adrenaline slammed my system.
The ghosts were scared of my answer. So was I.
Just then a knock sounded at the door. Saved by the bell. I stood. Law watched me. I could feel him seething, could almost hear his thoughts. I was running away again, hiding behind a knock at the door instead of facing him. It was true. It was also a lot more complicated than he knew. If he and I were together on any level, I couldn’t keep the ghosts. They’d never feel safe. That bothered me more than I can say. I’d given them my protection, a home. They’d saved my life. I had a responsibility for them. I couldn’t just kick them to the curb.
My visitor knocked again, sharper, impatient. I looked at Law. “I’ve got a feeling whoever it is is looking for you.”
“They can wait.”
But he couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. The unspoken threat was there. Fine. He wanted answers, he could have them. The short-and-dirty version.
“The poltergeist’s name is Tabitha. She’s thirteen. Normally she doesn’t throw tantrums, but something about this place set her off. She’s one of eighteen ghosts who live with me. The job—my mark stole something. I’m here to get it back. My dad—my mom died when I was twelve. Cancer. Dad was a necromancer. He raised her back up. Her body didn’t keep well. When I was fifteen, I put her back in the ground and made sure he couldn’t raise her again. He never forgave me for it. I never forgave him for making me watch my mom rot until I had to kill her a second time.
“What would it take to get me back?” I shook my head. “I don’t even know what that means. You don’t need a partner here. I’m never going to be an exterminator again. You’re never going to leave that life behind. I mostly live out of my car these days, following a job. As for me in your life? I don’t see us having candlelit dinners and long, misty walks on the beach. The only things we ever did together was work and screw. Six years later, working together is off the table and sex—” I shrugged. “You don’t need me for that. You’ve got your choice of all kinds of beautiful women, I’m sure.”
The knocking got louder, more impatient. “Lawrence? Are you in there? Please answer.”
Speaking of beautiful women he could choose from, it was LeeAnne. “Work calls,” I said. “Better answer. I’d hate for her to think I kidnapped you.”
He remained still, his eyes boring through me. I stared back, determined not to be the first to look away.
LeeAnne knocked again. “Lawrence?” She sounded rattled.
He twitched and scraped his lower lip with his teeth. “We aren’t done here, Mallory. Do not try to leave without talking to me,” he ordered and strode away to answer the door.
I followed. I didn’t know if I was relieved that the housekeeper had interrupted us or irritated. It was like leaving a surgery half done and I was the one bleeding on the table.
Just before he put his hand on the handle to open the door, my mouth popped open. “As long as we’re going for full disclosure, I still love you.” I couldn’t believe I said the words, but the truth was I was tired of carrying them around with me unsaid. If this was going to be the last time we saw each other, and please God that it was, I wanted to lay it all to rest. I wanted to know that I’d said all I needed to.
He froze, his back to me. “Still?”
“That’s what I said.”
LeeAnne knocked again. “Lawrence? It’s important. Please answer me immediately. We have a serious problem.”
“Are you going to talk to her?” I asked when Law didn’t move. I’m not sure what response I’d been expecting from him. Silence was better than full-on laughter. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’d kept the words bottled up for so long, it was relief to have said them. I knew he didn’t feel the same way, but letting the words out healed something in me. It was like the last step in growing up. “You probably ought to talk to her. Sounds like it might be an emergency.”
“I was considering strangling you first,” he growled.
The ghosts rippled around me like fluttering moth wings. With his back turned, he didn’t see.
“That would solve some problems,” I said. “Have me cremated if you do. I don’t want to be among the walking dead.”
“You’d probably come back as a poltergeist and haunt me.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m not into masochism.”
“You can dish it out, then, but you don’t like to take it. Is that it?”
I was surprised at the bitterness in his voice. “What do you mean?”
“It means we’ll be having a long talk later,” he said and pulled the door open before I could say anything else.
“What is it, LeeAnne?” He sounded calmly collected. It was his professional voice. I’d heard it a lot the two years we’d been partners. I’d always admired his ability to pull that mask over his own feelings, until he’d started doing it to me.
The Ritter case had been the last straw, but I’d started fraying months before. Every case involved killing someone or something. A lot of them deserved it. Ritter deserved it, even though he ended up in a supermax eating three squares a day and detailing his crimes to psychologists and biographers. He wanted to be remembered.
Law and I put a lot of creatures down. Humans we had to be careful about since they had legal rights. Ghosts, goblins, demons—supernatural creatures in general—they were another story. They were all vermin, according to the handbook, and you eradicate vermin. Only I had begun to see them as people, and extermination started to feel more like murder.
I started drinking more and more and I got angry a lot. When I wasn’t angry, I was whiny and weepy. That’s when Law turned his professional face on me. He went through all the tricks—soothing sympathy, helpful calming, stolid comforting. I felt like one of the victims. Talking to him didn’t help. He couldn’t understand. I took stupid risks, which only pissed Law off. It was better than dealing with professional robot Law. I know he thought I had some sort of PTSD. He was pushing me to take some time off. I knew what that meant. He couldn’t trust me in the field. It killed me to know he was right. The worst part is that I didn’t want to get over the new conscience I had grown. After I helped wipe out Ritter’s women, I realized I was done. If I stayed, I’d be a danger to Law. If I quit and stayed, he’d have treated me as if I were broken. He’d already begun doing it. Pity Mallory; she used to be good, but now she’s lost her nerve.
Leaving became my only good option.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” the housekeeper said. “There’s been an incident—” She caught sight of me behind him. “Ms. Carson. I hope everything is all right. Are you settling in?” she asked with frosty politeness.
She definitely had territorial issues about Law. I wondered if he’d been sleeping with her. A dull sword of jealousy rammed through my chest, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t have a right, I told myself. I never had.
“I’m doing well, LeeAnne,” I said and she twitched as I used her first name.
“I hope you don’t mind if I steal Lawrence from you,” she said. “Auberge business.” Her smile was plastic.
She reached to take Law’s arm and startled back when my wards stung her. Oops. She ought to have known better.
“Would you let me out, please, Mary,” Law asked. “It seems I have work to attend to.”
So did I. “Of course.”
I retreated to let the wards down and returned a moment later. Law stepped out into the hallway, and LeeAnne gripped his arm to drag him off.
He turned back to look at me.
“I’ll be back later,” he said. “I expect you to be here.”
I shrugged. “Girl’s gotta eat.”
“Don’t leave the hotel.”
I hesitat
ed. If my mark slipped away, I’d have to follow. “I’ll wait as long as I can,” I said, hedging.
He scowled, his jaw jutting. “I’ll lock the place down.”
“Lawrence! You can’t do that! The guests would panic,” LeeAnne said. “It would be a disaster.”
He shrugged her off. “I mean it, Mary,” he said. “If you so much as look at the exit, the shutdown will trigger.”
I wondered if he could really do it. The ghosts could change my aural signature into an infinite number of variations. He might not know how I did it, but he certainly knew I could, so he wouldn’t set the shutdown to trigger off that. What else could he use? I didn’t know, but his threat didn’t sound idle. He must have a card up his sleeve.
“Fine,” I said. “Do what you’ve got to do.”
It sounded more like a challenge than an agreement. He started to say something, but LeeAnne tugged his arm. He gave me a hard look, and they strode away down the corridor. They matched; they belonged together. Her ice queen elegance and his lion grace. I looked down at myself. I was all alley-cat grunge.
I shut the door and reset my wards then took a shower. I felt more than a little grimy. I’d driven from Chicago to Greenwich, Connecticut, in a couple of days, sleeping in the car and eating fast food. I was exhausted and working the wards and dealing with Tabitha had drained me. Not to mention the conversation with Law.
I shied from thinking about him at all. I still had butterflies zinging around my stomach from his kiss, and somehow hope had knifed its way inside my heart. I hated hope. It lied more often than not.
Instead I concentrated on the job.
I was after an incubus. Rather, I was after a box that the incubus had stolen. He’d stolen the box after seducing the wife of one of Ivan’s business partners, so Ivan had called on me for help.
He’d hired me to do odd jobs for him a couple years after I left Law and Acadia, a quasi-governmental company and our former employer. A few years later, he put me on retainer and gave me regular work. I liked it. I could still take on any client I wanted, but I had a regular paycheck. Not that I spent much of it. Ivan covered most of my living expenses since I was never at home to get my mail or pay my bills. That left me a good chunk of change to drop in the bank every week. I liked the vagabond life. The ghosts kept me company, and I didn’t have to answer to anybody.
I also didn’t have to think about why my apartment was so bare or the fact that I didn’t have many in-the-flesh friends. I talked to my cousin Remy sometimes, my Aunt Sandra’s eldest. I visited him when I could and sometimes his sister, Traci. They were about the only family I had left, besides Aunt Sandra. She didn’t talk to me much. My dad had told her how I killed mom the second time. Even though she’d said I’d done the right thing, she avoided me.
After the shower, I wrapped up in one of the plush bath sheets and went into the bedroom. I’d left my backpack on the floor. I picked it up, set it on top of a dresser, and untied the knots at the top. As much as I wanted to sleep, I had to get to work. The incubus wouldn’t stay in the hotel long if he thought he was in danger. Tabitha’s tantrum would have made him itchy. He’d not had a chance to feed for a few days, though, so with any luck, I could tempt him into letting me be his meal of choice.
I pulled the stuff I’d need out of the pack. First came the slinky Vera Wang dress. Next came the makeup pouch, shoes, and thigh-high silk stockings. I dug out the perfume, hairbrushes, and thong underwear. No bra with this dress. I was aiming to look like a buffet for the sex demon.
I’d become an expert at dressing first class, thanks to Ivan and the lessons he’d insisted on. I needed to know how to fit into every setting, he told me, especially the ones built out of money.
There wasn’t much to be done with my hair. I blew it out with one of the dryers in the bathroom. The makeup was quick. I gave myself smoky cat eyes and painted on bright red lipstick. I rolled the stockings on and stepped into the slinky dress. The bugle crystals sparkled over the dark green silk. The low back revealed all three of my scars. They ran down the left side of my spine and disappeared under the fabric along my ribs. I’d had them tattooed with delicate vines and spring flowers so they looked less like I’d been clawed by a demon and a dead puma and more like I’d done the whole design out of vanity. Hey, Mr. Plastic Surgeon, could you scar me up real good so I can have a dramatic tattoo?
The front of the dress was slightly more modest than the back. The neckline dropped to reveal generous cleavage, though I wasn’t in a lot of danger of falling out. It was so well designed that even though the sides were mostly not there, I wasn’t going to flop out there either. A slit ran up just above mid thigh on the right side, revealing glimpses of the top of my stocking when I walked. The whole dress clung like a second skin, emphasizing my curves. As I said, I’ve got banging hips and boobs. I added some emerald earrings and a matching pendant—also courtesy of Ivan—and slipped on the matching stiletto heels last. I gave myself a once-over in the mirror.
I have to say I looked pretty amazing. Not a little of me hoped that LeeAnne and Law would get to see me all polished up. I shoved the thought aside. Work. Concentrate.
I took my clutch purse out of the backpack. It matched the dress. Opening it, I put in my lipstick, driver’s license, and a credit card, followed by a thin binding chain. It was no heavier than a necklace, but once I got it on him, he wouldn’t be able to use his predatory sex magic on me. The emerald pendant I was wearing protected me as well. I also slipped in some handcuffs and brass knuckles.
I’ve trained for more than ten years in various hand-to-hand combat styles, but nothing really replaces a solid right hook while wearing brass knuckles. I snapped the purse shut. It would have to do. Demons—even minor demons such as incubi—didn’t drug well, or I’d have gone that route. I had a few magic tricks up my proverbial sleeve as well, plus the ghosts. I didn’t expect a lot of trouble—incubi weren’t terribly aggressive. They were lovers, not fighters, as the saying went.
“Ready or not, here I come,” I said.
The incubus hadn’t arrived at Effrayant all that long before I had. I figured he’d probably gone to clean up and maybe sleep before feeding. The club on the third wing roof was a popular hot spot, and I was sure that would be his hunting ground. He’d stuff himself, going back to the sex buffet a few times during the night. I was counting on the fact that he’d be too hungry to move on before morning, even with the Tabitha episode. Having followed him from L.A., I knew he was also fastidious about his food choices. He wasn’t going to snack on a maid. He liked to dine on the sleekly wealthy, hence my disguise.
I was hungry too, so I decided I’d grab dinner at the bistro inside the club. The view from the restaurant was stunning. I stuffed myself on fried mushrooms, bacon-wrapped scallops, a Moroccan apricot stew, and a sampler of melt-in-your-mouth confections. By the time I was done, I was pretty sure I looked pregnant in my dress. I signed off on the ticket, leaving a generous tip for my attentive waiter, then went into the club.
I was early and grabbed a seat at the bar. I ordered a glass of merlot and settled in to wait. Before long, I had a steady crew of men coming up to buy me drinks and ask me to dance. Because it would be expected, I danced a little and flirted, all the while keeping an eye out for the incubus. I’d stuck a little gold star sticker on the outside of the entrance door. It was spelled to give me a warning when he was near.
I didn’t need a spell to tell me that Law had arrived first. He strode in, driving away my current companion with a smoking look promising pain if the man didn’t get lost and quick.
Law stood over me, taking in my outfit. “What are you doing?” he asked, the muscles in his jaw clenching.
“My job. What are you doing?” I hoped the incubus didn’t show up while Law was around. He’d probably take one whiff of Law’s fury and run for the hills.
“We need to talk,” he said and took my arm. He practically dragged me off the chair and back through the lobby
into a small office near the kitchen. With a wall of bulletin boards holding schedules, rules, OSHA warnings, and charts indicating food needs for various supernaturals, a row of file cabinets along another wall, and a paper-laden desk, it was clearly the restaurant manager’s office.
Law pushed me in ahead of him and shut the door. I wasn’t sure if I should be angry he’d interfered with my plan or worried about why he had.
“What’s so important you had to drag me off the job?” I demanded.
He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes hooded. His eyes glittered as he scanned me from head to foot. My skin heated. This was not a look he’d ever seen me wear before.
“You cleaned up,” he said. “Nice.”
“I’m hunting an incubus,” I said. “I wanted him to take the bait. You think he will?”
I turned slowly in a circle, letting Law get a good look. I don’t even know what was driving me. For the eighteen months we’d been lovers, we’d had great sex, but I’d always felt like the last cookie in an empty jar. If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with. That idea. I wanted more than that. I wanted to know that I turned him on, that I was his choice, not his consolation prize.
I got halfway into my turn when Law came off the wall. Suddenly he was behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck. He traced my tattooed scars downward to where they disappeared beneath my dress. I shivered at his touch.
“How did you get that?”
“A big dead kitty cat.”
He ran a finger over the white stripe in my hair before moving to the scar on my face. “These?”
“Ammit demon in Alabama.”
I felt exposed, like I was naked. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.
“What happened?”
He bent and flicked his tongue over the lobe of my ear. I locked my knees so I wouldn’t melt to the floor.
“Which time?” My voice turned husky.
“Either. Your back,” he said, nibbling around the back of my neck to my other ear.
I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. My heart pounded. I wanted to lean back against him. I made myself stay still.
The Incubus Job Page 4