by AE Jones
“I will let you know if I can figure out the other lines.”
Dalton continued, “Misha, have you found anything else in Hampton’s computer files?”
“Nothing that looks illegal. Everything so far seems aboveboard. I was going to have Kyle help me with it today.”
Oh, joy, I could hardly wait.
“I’m going to be at the police station for most of the day, but I’ll follow up with you later.”
“Bye. Have a nice day.” I pressed the disconnect button as Misha and Jean Luc watched me warily.
* * *
I rubbed my gritty eyes and pushed away from the table. I had been sitting for too long, and the remnants of our lunch from several hours ago still lay in the open pizza box on the table. The computer files were getting us nowhere. I stood up to stretch.
“I can’t find anything in these files,” I whined.
Misha sighed. “I told you they were clean. I was hoping you would spot something I missed.”
“But, don’t you see, that’s part of the problem. The books are too clean. No one can run a business without making adjustments. There are no returns or deductions for damaged items. No shipping cost issues. There is no way these can be the real thing.”
Misha yawned and stretched as well. “So he cooked the books and we’re looking at his clean copies.”
“Yep, I should have shoved the second memory stick down my bra instead of this one.”
Misha smiled. “You were lucky to have gotten this out from under Sebastian’s nose.”
I almost shuddered at his name. “You’re right. He is one scary vampire. Speaking of vampires, where has Jean Luc run off to?”
“To follow up on the case we had with the demon twins a couple of weeks ago. He wants to make sure the parents are keeping them in line and they aren’t fighting with each other in public anymore.”
“That was a bitch, wiping half the soccer team’s memories of the boys throwing energy balls at each other.”
Misha laughed. “I think they learned their lesson.”
“Did you ever do anything like that as a baby demon?”
“I got into trouble, yes. But remember, when I was a child you didn’t have to worry about camera phones and YouTube.”
“Which is why we need your technical expertise. I don’t know what we’re going to do when something big finally goes viral.”
Misha shrugged. “People will think it’s a hoax.”
“Let’s hope so.” I filled the empty coffee carafe with water and brewed a new pot. Hazelnut filled the air. “Okay, what are our next steps?”
Misha went over to the white board and picked up a marker, writing “Cooked Books” next to Hampton’s name. “I’m going to start working on the demons in Cowell’s book I don’t recognize.”
“If they aren’t in our database, do they exist?”
“There are many things in the supernatural world we do not have documented. Cowell’s account of the other demon clans was accurate. I have listed the seven he had researched on the board. Maybe the ones I don’t recognize are not allowed out of the demon realm.”
“Like a demon who can stop a human heart?”
“Possibly,” Misha answered. “I’m going to have to leave for a while to do the next stage of my research.”
“Do you need me to tag along?” I knew damn well he was going to see his clan leader and I wouldn’t be allowed to go.
“No. You can’t come with me, Kyle.”
“One of these days I’m going to meet your Grand Poobah.”
Misha smirked. “It will be an interesting meeting, I’m sure.” He walked to the door. “I won’t be back until late.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you have any news.”
I went back to my office and had only been sitting for a couple of minutes when footsteps sounded in the hallway.
“Misha, did you forget something?”
“It’s me.”
Dalton stepped into the doorway and I gawked at him. He was decked out in a charcoal gray suit with a light blue shirt and tie, and his turquoise eyes were even more vivid, if that was possible. Stay focused! Remember, you’re pissed at him.
I nodded, since I was trying to choose my words carefully before speaking. Plus, I didn’t want any drool to escape my lips. It would defeat my whole keep-him-at-arm’s-length strategy. He took a step into the room, but then stopped, as if testing the water. It was frigid.
“So…did you find anything in Hampton’s files?” he asked.
“They’re too clean. He clearly wasn’t running a legitimate import/export business. I don’t know what else we’re going to get from them.”
“Where are Jean Luc and Misha?”
“Out.”
He stood there staring at me and I stared right back at him. I counted to ten. I wasn’t going to small talk him to make the awkwardness easier. If he had something to say, he needed to spit it out.
“Sorry I wasn’t able to help today. We had a big court case, and I had to be there in case we had a media issue.”
I shrugged. “We survived without you.”
He took a step closer. “Kyle, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re obviously pissed about something.”
I forced my voice to remain calm. “I don’t know, maybe the fact you played me last night.”
His jaw tightened. “How does it feel? You’ve been doing it to me for days. You should have seen Misha’s face when I asked him about your relationship. I felt like an idiot.”
“Okay, touché. Glad to see I’m a joke.” My stomach twisted. “Was the kiss really necessary to prove your point?”
“You are not a joke to me, Kyle. Far from it.”
He leaned over the desk into my personal space. Why did he have to smell so damn good?
“And the kiss was not to prove a point. I have wanted to kiss you for days.”
My breath caught for a second as I stared into his eyes. They had turned a darker shade of blue. What was it about this man? But I stopped myself from getting sucked in. I pushed my chair back hard from the desk, stood and glared at him.
“I hope the kiss was memorable, because it’s the first and last one you’ll get from me.” I marched around him and out the door.
Chapter 14
Who did he think he was, anyway? I drove home very proud of myself for shooting Dalton down. We had only known each other for a short time. We were not in a committed relationship.
I sat down at my kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. As I poured the milk into the bowl, a sour odor hit me and I gagged. The milk lay in lumps on top of the cereal. At the rate I was going, I was going to poison myself some day. I crammed the mess down the disposal and sat down again in a huff, no longer hungry.
By the time I crawled into my bed alone, I was second-guessing myself over the whole Dalton thing. I mean, what did he really do that was so bad? I shook my head. Weak. I was so weak.
I shut off the light and closed my eyes. I would gather strength overnight so I could be indignant with Dalton again. Work was the only relationship I wanted with him. I kept saying it to myself over and over again, hoping to make it true. I went to sleep hoping I wouldn’t dream about him.
* * *
The wailing wind woke me. But instead of being in bed, I was sleeping in a fetal position on damp ground. Sitting up, I tried to make out where I was, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. I blinked, wanting my eyes to adjust to the dark so I could figure out what was going on. There was a weak shaft of light high up along a wall. I stood slowly, my arms held out in front of me so I wouldn’t run into anything while I moved toward the light.
I inched my way to the wall. When I placed my hands on it, the cool metal surprised me. Peeking out through the narrow opening, I saw a pole light illuminating the yard. In front of me was a tree with no leaves, its empty branches swinging in the wind. I listened, praying to hear something besides the wind and m
y ragged breathing. After a couple of seconds, there was a tinkling sound, of metal and glass knocking together.
I knelt down, folded in on myself, and sobbed, my cries drowned out by the howling wind.
* * *
I jerked awake and sat up in bed, instinctively reaching behind my headboard for Stanley. What the hell had that been about? I tried to catch my breath while my eyes darted around the room. I had never had such a vivid dream before. Booger sat in the doorway watching me.
“It’s all right, dude, I just had a bad dream.”
He swished his tail and disappeared down the hall. After I calmed down a bit, I returned Stanley to his hiding place and checked the clock. Six a.m. No point in trying to go back to sleep.
I stood in the warm shower for an extra ten minutes to wake myself up. Stepping out, I checked my forehead in the mirror. The bruise had turned into a lovely shade of egg-yolk yellow.
In the kitchen I found Booger asleep on the kitchen table—the only place he was forbidden to stand, sit or lie on. That and the kitchen counter. I shooed him off the table and plopped a can of cat food in his dish. He circled my legs and purred. I read the can and grimaced. Dalton had bought the high-end cat food.
“Don’t get too attached to this, okay? Once it’s gone, it’s back to bargain kitty food for you.”
Booger tilted his head up, and for a minute, I could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. Lord, everyone was against me.
Even though I arrived at work early, all three guys were already there. Was I the only one who slept? I walked over to the full coffee pot. Misha wrinkled his nose and then shook his head slightly. Damn. Now I would have to wait until Jean Luc left the room before I could make a new pot.
I plopped down in the empty chair at the table. “Good morning. What do we know at this point?”
Dalton watched me warily, but said nothing.
Misha jumped in. “I was just going to show Dalton my PowerPoint presentation on demons, to bring him up to speed. Want to watch?”
I smiled. I couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment for Dalton. “Go ahead and get started. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Misha clicked on the keypad and the first slide appeared. “There are twelve clans of demons currently living on earth. Each has its own distinct set of features and powers. I will go through each clan and describe it to you…”
I hightailed it back to my office and sat at my desk. Closing my eyes for a second, I replayed last night’s dream. What the hell was it supposed to represent? I straightened my desk and drawers, throwing out broken rubber bands and twisted paper clips, before wandering back to the front area. Hopefully, Misha had finished his presentation.
No such luck. Misha’s arms swayed above his head as he demonstrated some kind of weird dance. The PowerPoint slide reflecting on the whiteboard was titled “Haltrap Demon’s Molting Schedule.” To my surprise, Dalton was actually asking questions.
“So depending on the strength of a demon’s powers, there are classification levels?”
“Yes. Shamats like me are pretty high in the hierarchy, but the Pavel who fought the angel at the bar is the highest level allowed on earth, and that decision has been questioned over the centuries.”
“Dalmots like Kevin Doyle, our pawnbroker, are low-level?”
“The female Dalmots are more powerful than their male counterparts, but overall they are somewhat harmless. So if you add Doc, you have already met three demon types.”
“Actually, I’ve met four. Kyle and I ran into a Baltran demon in the alley.”
Oh, crap.
“Kyle didn’t mention that to me.” Misha turned to Jean Luc, who shook his head.
“Well, she probably wants to forget about the whole thing, since he slimed her,” Dalton explained.
Misha laughed, a deep belly laugh I had experienced in the past, which would go on for days if I let it wind up too much.
I hurried over and sat down at the table. “Misha, how did your talk with your clan leader go last night?”
I glared at him. He wiped the tears out of his eyes—was it really so funny?—and answered me.
“He didn’t recognize the pictures I showed him, but he’s going to have the elders review them and get back to me.” He turned to Dalton. “There is a hierarchy established within the clans. Each clan has a clan leader and a group of elders who advise the leader.”
Dalton reviewed the white board. “So, why do you think Cowell only has seven demons identified of the twelve?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe he didn’t have time to figure out the rest.”
We were missing something. “What I don’t understand is how he could have gathered all the information he did have on the seven clans. I can’t believe he could have done it without help.”
“Maybe those connections are tied to Hampton? Hampton thought Cowell knew something important enough to torture him for it,” Dalton threw in.
“And since an angel and a demon were both after Hampton, they must think he was successful in extracting the information from Cowell,” I added.
“Besides the leaders within the clans,” Dalton asked, “do you have leaders who lead across the clans? In other words, how do you keep the peace?”
“We have the Council of Twelve. Each member represents a clan, and they meet if there is unrest. And then there is the Full Council which also includes the vampire and shifter contingencies.”
“Have you ever had to go to the Full Council?”
Misha swallowed hard. “Nicholas’s philosophy is the issue should never get bad enough to require involving the Council.”
Before Dalton could respond, Dolly buzzed the intercom.
Misha hit the button. “Yeah, Dolly?”
“Someone’s on the phone. He wouldn’t give his name, but he insists on talking to Kyle.”
I hit the outside line. “Hello?”
“Is this McKinley?”
It took two seconds to recognize the worm. “What do you want, Doyle?”
“First, pick up the damn phone. I don’t want to be on speaker.”
I reached over and grabbed the handset. “Is that better?”
“Yes. I have some information for you on the matter we discussed before.”
“Spill it.”
“No! Not over the phone.”
I rolled my eyes at the guys. “Fine, I’ll meet you at your shop.”
“No, I don’t want anyone to see you there. Meet me behind the State Theater in an hour.”
“The next words out of your mouth better not be, ‘come alone.’ I’m not stupid. This better not be a trick, Doyle.”
“No tricks, but after this we’re even.” He hung up.
Dalton leaned forward. “What’s the deal?”
“Doyle wants to meet with us. Apparently he has more information.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Misha and Jean Luc can come, too. Doyle is nervous as hell, and I’m not getting a good feeling about this.”
Dalton and I went in Dalton’s SUV, and Jean Luc and Misha followed separately. The plan was to have Jean Luc circle in the van while Dalton and I spoke to Doyle. Misha would stay out of sight and watch our backs.
Dalton glanced over at me a couple of times while he drove, but didn’t say anything. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Spit it out, Dalton.”
He sighed. “This probably isn’t the best time for this, but I’m sorry about yesterday. I was pissed at you and thought you needed to be taught a lesson. I don’t want you to ever think you’re a joke.”
I nodded and stared out the window. I had nothing pithy to say, and for once I didn’t think it was warranted anyway. I took a deep breath before facing him. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have let you think Misha and I are a thing.”
“Why did you?”
Indeed, why did I? Did I even know? I probably needed some extensive psychotherapy to figure out what the hell my problem was, but he was waiting for an answer.
“The last human teammate we had was a disaster. I didn’t want to deal with another one. So instead of giving you a chance, I tried to scare you off at first.”
“I remember.”
“And when that didn’t work, Misha mentioned he thought you were interested in me and jealous of him, so I decided to work with that. Stupid, huh?”
“Not so much. Misha was right, I am interested in you.” He parked the car and gave me his full attention. “Do you know you refer to humans like you aren’t one?”
I opened my mouth and closed it. Again I was at a loss for words. “I didn’t realize I did that. But you have to admit, I’m not exactly normal.”
“No, you’re special. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”
Whoa—alarm bells were clanging in my head. It was time to steer this conversation out of murky waters. “So we’re calling a truce?”
He grinned. “Truce.”
Dalton and I got out and went down the alley behind the theater. After a few seconds, I spotted Doyle standing in a doorway. This was a little too reminiscent of my recent slime experience. Before I even got close to him, I could tell Doyle was a nervous wreck. His eyes were darting from side to side, and he let out an audible sigh when he saw us coming.
“About damn time.”
I stood in the doorway with Dalton next to me. He faced sideways, watching the alley.
“What’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff, Doyle?” I asked.
“You wanted to know if I heard anything else about Hampton.”
“Yeah, but what is so hush-hush you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”
“There has been a lot of chatter lately about Hampton’s head. The price tag has gone up. They are offering three million for it.”
Whoa, things were getting serious. “Who are ‘they’?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s coming from the demon pop. Speculation is the vamps might already have the head, but they aren’t talking.”
“Who is in a position to offer so much money?”
Doyle’s eyes darted from side to side again before answering. “There are only a few supes I can think of with that kind of pull. I wrote them down for you.” He handed me a piece of paper. “Now we’re even. I don’t care if you go to Coleen or not, I’m done.”