Worth Your While

by Connie Suttle

  "It bothers me in some way, too, but I'm not a sensitive. I'll ask Will if he got anything."

  "Let me know, all right?"

  "I will."

  Rob

  "Revenge was certainly a motive, but given the werewolf's occupation, the humans involved could be anyone connected to past cases, I suppose," Will answered my question once we were back at the estate. "Revenge has a certain—bitterness about it, that takes long practice to detect. What I can tell you is this—one of the humans was male, the other female, and not connected by blood."

  "You got that much? Damn, you're good."

  "I wish I were better," he said. "But in every case, specific names elude my kind, else I'd have drawn attention to the Kings long ago."

  "Where and when?" I demanded.

  "They were sitting in a car not far from Cassie's aunt's property, after they burned it down. They were sent to watch for Cassie's appearance, by Shakkor Agdah, no doubt. I fogged their windows so effectively, we'd come and gone before they could see through them again."

  "Talk about missed opportunities," I complained.

  "I know. Consider it yet another failing."

  "No—I consider that a success, because they never saw any of us. Do you know what sort of accelerant they used on Cliff's house?"

  "Gasoline, although they removed most of the evidence. I imagine that the authorities will reach that conclusion soon enough."

  "What about Cliff's property—he said the only things there of any importance were an old shotgun and a fire safe."

  "The firearm was certainly not there—I sense-searched for weapons of any kind. If they found the gun, no doubt they took the safe as well."

  "I was afraid you'd say that."

  "You asked, I answered."

  "Right. I'll let Cassie know."

  Cassie

  "I've contacted a temp agency for the help we need; since I didn't know how long we'll need them, I promised two months salary, and have the right of refusal on anyone they send," Richard reported as I sank into my office chair.

  "When will they be here?" I asked, while wishing I had more coffee.

  "Tomorrow morning. That means we should put a list of duties together, while I scope out the house; I don't want to look like a fool while showing them around. I've already asked for a list of supplies and food to order, and I have a call in to two pool services. They'll be here this afternoon to give us an estimate."

  "Coffee," Jon walked in and set a fresh cup on my desk.

  "You are awesome," I told him and lifted the cup to my lips.

  "I asked to have the hot tub included in the pool maintenance, even if it's in the nineties outside," Richard went on.

  "Good idea," I said after consuming a heavenly mouthful of dark brew. Chet, who'd walked in so quietly none of us noticed, jumped onto my desk and came to give me a headbutt.

  "I cannot believe he took to you so fast; at best, we had an uneasy truce." Richard shook his head at the cat, who purred while trying to rub himself all over my face. "I was hoping he'd have a connection with Jon. Instead, he seems to have taken you as his human. Er—demon."

  "I've heard of witches having familiars, but not this," Jon teased.

  "Right. Where's my phone?" Chet's tail waved in my face as I searched through desk drawers for my purse. I had to spit out cat hair twice before I pulled the phone from my handbag in a bottom drawer.

  "I love you, but I don't want to sniff your butt, Chetward," I told the cat. "Go find Kent—he'll probably oblige."

  Instead, Chet sat on the desk as if he were in charge. After dialing Beverly's cell phone, I waited for her to answer.

  "Richard has a couple of people coming in to interview as kitchen and cooking help," I told her. "You can ask questions and have the final say whether they stay or not."

  "That'll be nice. Does this mean I get a day off?"

  "I think we may arrange for two, if things work out. If nothing else, Kate, Gina and I can cook one night, and let the new staff do the other. Does that sound fair?"

  "Sure does. Is it possible that Faith, Ben and I can have weekends off together?"

  "I don't see why not. It's only right. You've put up with us so far. I will say this, though. If you go out, take a guard with you—Pete, Jerry or one of the vamps. Just to be safe, you know."

  "Not a problem. Thanks."

  "What's next on the agenda?" I asked after ending the call with Beverly.

  "There's a shower head in the guest house that needs to be replaced, some cracked tile in the same bathroom, and one of the burners on the stove in their kitchenette doesn't work," Richard replied.

  "Contractor problems," I said. "I don't know what kind of deal the sprites worked out with the seller. I'll get with Rob to see if it's something covered by a buyer's warranty, or if we're stuck with the repair bills."

  "Let me know; I'll take it from there."

  "All right."

  "Did you find out what happened to Cliff's house?"

  "Arson. Somebody out for revenge, but we found evidence of humans instead of Black Myth."

  "You haven't really told me anything about them, other than they're evil."

  "They cover their skin with sacs containing the disease—if you shake hands with them, you'll have it. The woman who's been spreading it lately, though, she didn't cover her face or hands with the poison sacs. She wears street clothes; the rest generally cover themselves up in dark cloaks. In fact, that's what they're called occasionally—black cloaks."

  "I've heard some people refer to the disease as a plague."

  "It's similar. According to Rob, they had their fingerprints all over the Black Death, back in the day."

  "You think this is a variation of that disease?"

  "If it is, the CDC has never reported it as such."

  "They don't talk much about it on the news."

  "Most of them have no idea where it came from. Only a few—like Grim's department, know everything."

  "Does Grim's department know what he is?"

  "The entire department is made up of supernaturals, so I guess they do."

  "Do they have any like you?"

  I had to draw in a deep breath, close my eyes for a moment and then let it out slowly before I answered. "Richard, on the entire planet, there are only three fire demons left. The other two are in Europe, somewhere. Most of them have been killed by Black Myth because they present a unique danger to their race."

  "How? If you're so deadly to them, how can they kill you?"

  "Some of us died with a little help—sacrificed by the group that Will and Yosuke belong to, to kill many Shakkor Agdah at once."

  "What she isn't telling you is that she was chosen as a sacrifice too," Will strode into my office. "I made a grave mistake then, and one that will not be repeated. Through the years, Black Myth has targeted fire demons when they are humanoid, because they are easier to kill in that guise."

  "That's why you have guards around you," Richard said.

  "Yes. That's why I have guards around me when I'm like this."

  "So you weren't sacrificed," Richard sorted out what we were telling him.

  "No. She was sacrificed. She came back from that. I cannot say how," Will admitted. "It has never happened before."

  "I died. I remember dying. And then I woke up," I gesture with my hands. "It's not the best of memories. Can you save your other questions for later? I think I need to take a walk or something."

  I barely glanced at Will as I scrambled out the door; he looked as if he wanted to say something but didn't. Just as well—I wasn't in the mood for a conversation with him.

  Somebody had bought fabric-covered camp chairs for the back patio. Cliff sat on one of them, staring at the lagoon. I took the chair next to his.

  "Been a crummy day," he said. A beer bottle dangled in one of his hands—he lifted it to take a long drink.

  "Yeah," I agreed. "I'm sorry about your house, Cliff. I still remember the first time I went there."


  "Bad and good memories then, too."

  "I know."

  "Shotgun belonged to my dad."

  "Oh, no. Is there a way to identify it if it ends up in a pawn shop?"

  "I got people on that. I worry that somebody will do murder with it, instead."

  "Was there anything important in the safe?"

  "Old papers. Maybe an address book from years ago. Probably no good to anybody, but you never know."

  "Sometimes people are scum," I sighed.

  "Right there with you, Princess." Cliff emptied his beer bottle.

  "Need another one?" I asked as he set that one on the flagstones beside his chair.

  "Nah. What brings you out here?"

  "Richard's questions, and Will's answers."

  "They got to that part, huh?"

  "Yeah. It's unsettling every time. Cliff, I have a question," I turned to look at him. His eyes were still straight ahead, staring at the lagoon, or something beyond that in his mind.

  His jaw worked for a second; I noticed he had scruff from not shaving earlier. I didn't know how old he was, but he still had dark, thick hair, a strong jaw and eyes so dark they looked black most of the time. I wondered why he wasn't married, but that wasn't my question.

  "What's the question?" he turned toward me.

  "Is it possible, you think, to check DNA or whatever on demon siblings?"

  "Maybe, but we'd have to get one of our doctors to run the tests and destroy the samples. Why do you ask?"

  "I just got a shivery feeling when I talked about my father—like I wasn't really connected to him, you know?"

  "I've kinda wondered how he was able to father two such good girls myself," Cliff sighed. "I just didn't want to bring it up before. Neither you nor Destiny look anything like him, to be honest. If you want me to check into this, we can do it when we're in Atlanta for your next appointment."

  "Yeah. I think I'd like to check—just to know whether I'm wishful thinking or what."

  "What would you do if you found out that he's not your father?"

  "A happy dance."

  "We'll get the test run. I'll find out what the doctor needs to do it. Just remember those results will take a little longer than they show on TV."

  "I know. Thanks, Cliff. I didn't want to talk to anybody else about this."

  "Can I ask why that is?"

  "Because I have trust issues."

  "Understood. Look, are you hungry? Have you had lunch yet?"

  "No lunch yet," I said.

  "Good. Let's find one of those new rock demon guards of yours and go find a restaurant somewhere."

  "They're here?" I squeaked.

  "Yep. Parke has been giving them the low-down, I think, but that doesn't mean we have to see this place as a prison."

  "Thanks, Cliff."

  "Anytime, Cassie."

  "They have shrimp po'boys on the menu," Rob said. We waited to be seated at a popular seafood joint about a mile away from the estate. I found I couldn't leave the house without my sprites and both rock demon guards from the Canadian Mountain Clan.

  "I hope you like seafood," I blinked up at Landon and Liam Belanger, who appeared more than happy to be where they were.

  At least my disguise was in place, according to Rob and the mirror I passed on the way into the restaurant. Blonde hair wasn't my preference, but if it hid me, all the better.

  "We like seafood fine," Landon grinned. "Haven't been here before; it's a bit hot, isn't it?"

  "Welcome to summertime in the south," I told him.

  "We have your table ready," a waitress approached with a stack of menus in her hands. No surprise—there were eight of us to seat.

  My cell phone rang just as we were seated; it was Parke calling.

  "If they have clam chowder, get six orders to go. Got enough cash?"

  "Uh," I floundered, digging through my purse. Eventually I opened a little-used zipper compartment and found three hundred dollars inside. "Yeah, I think it's covered," I told him. Why didn't you use telepathy? I asked.

  Because I'm in the guesthouse, and there's a repairman looking at the showerhead. "Kent, Gina and Jerry wanted clam chowder, if they have it," he continued aloud.

  "It's on the menu," I told him, opening it to check. "Anything else?"

  "Pete wants gumbo."

  "Right. Let me write this down," I said, digging in my purse for a pen and paper.

  "Hushpuppies, too."

  "Got it."

  "I think that's it. Oh, and one more thing."

  "What?"

  "I've been grumpy, and I'm sorry. And, in case you've forgotten, I love you."

  "Wow. Way to go, Worth, telling me now."

  "Why? What's wrong?"

  "You haven't kissed me in three days."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yep. I get more attention from Chet."

  "Great. I'm competing with the cat. Look, I'll see you when you get back, and we'll fix a few things."

  "Fine."

  "Bye."

  "Bye."

  Cliff snickered when I ended the call. He could hear both sides, unlike the others, and found the conversation funny. I wasn't about to call him out about it—not after the morning he'd had.

  I ordered the flounder with red beans and rice plus coleslaw. Cliff ordered peel-and-eat shrimp for an appetizer, then ahi tuna and shrimp for the meal. The rock demons followed Cliff's example; the sprites ordered either fish and chips or shrimp po'boys. I guess they didn't get much fried foods back home.

  "We used to get shrimp pizza in Tuscaloosa, but they stopped making it," I sighed as Cliff offered me a peel-and-eat shrimp off his plate.

  "Was it good?" he asked.

  "It was amazing. I loved it." I peeled the shrimp, dipped it in the red sauce he'd ordered and popped it in my mouth. "Mmmm," I said.

  "Just the right amount of horse radish in the sauce," he smiled. "This is really good."

  "Yeah. That stuff can clear your sinuses if they get too heavy with it."

  Cliff's phone rang as his entrée was set in front of him. He looked at the caller ID before rising and answering as he walked away.

  "What?" I heard him say as he headed for the door. He didn't sound happy when he said it, either.

  Cassie, Parke broke into my thoughts. Your shrink was shot half an hour ago—he's in the hospital and they don't know whether he'll make it or not. His receptionist is dead. Both shot with a shotgun, according to preliminary reports.

  Fuck.

  Exactly.

  Chapter 13

  Decatur, Georgia

  Lilith Sloane

  Jinx shot the receptionist before I had time to ask questions; the shrink came rushing out of his office with a pistol and shot at Jinx before Jinx unloaded the second barrel into his chest. Jinx had fucked this up from the get-go, and now we had no idea what the connection between the shrink and Cliff Young was.

  Jinx had a bullet in his right shoulder, now, and I couldn't take him to a hospital; they'd know what was up.

  "Damn, it's still bleeding," he whined from the passenger seat of my car.

  "Yeah—you're getting blood all over everything, you asshole. What the hell did you think you were doing, shooting first? Now you've got a murder charge against you, I'm an accessory and we still don't know a damn thing."

  "I thought if we shot somebody with his shotgun," Jinx whined.

  "Where the hell did you get your brains? At a discount store? That gun will be reported stolen, you moron."

  "I'm not a moron. I'm bleeding."

  "Right. And there's nothing we can do about it, unless you know a doctor who can keep his mouth shut."

  "I have a friend who flunked out of vet school."

  "You want him working on you?"

  "It's all I got, and this won't stop hurting. What if I bleed to death?"

  "I'd say you deserve to bleed to death for being an idiot."

  "Somebody had to pay for Pit."

  "Stop talking, or I'll kill you
myself."

  "Where are we going?" He craned his neck to look through the windshield.

  "My cousin has a trailer outside Duluth. We're going there. Shut up."

  Cassie

  "His business address was in my address book—the one inside the fire safe," Cliff's words were barely discernible around the constant growling as he paced.

  "Somebody was watching us that day—when we went," I said. Parke frowned at me, but nodded his understanding.

  "Probably got Cliff's tag number off his Escalade, and found his name from that," Parke said. He, Cliff, Kent and Jerry were inside Parke's office, discussing the shootings in Atlanta.

  "That, in turn, led them to Cliff's residence on record," Kent agreed. "They cut the phone line so the alarm wouldn't go off, ransacked the place, took the gun and the safe, then burned the place down. Do we have any security images from the shooting?"

  "I'm sure there's something, but we haven't been able to get around the red tape to be included, yet," Parke replied. "Damn, I wish Trey was awake."

  "I've already talked to the PD back home, telling them that the stolen shotgun may have been used in this crime," Kent said. "If they get any feedback after contacting the authorities in Atlanta, they'll let me know."

  "Call Trey's superior, Director Logan," I said. "Maybe he can loop us in."

  "I'll do that." Parke pulled his cell phone off his desk and strode into the hallway to make the call.

  I huddled in one of Parke's guest chairs, feeling small—this was my fault. I'd needed Doctor Chalmers' help, and that had exposed him and Cliff to this horror.

  "We have information," Parke rushed in. "He's sending it to my laptop. They may have ID on the perps, too."

  "More than one?"

  "Probably the two Kent and I detected at the house," Cliff sounded feral, and his eyes held a strange light in their depths.

  Parke tapped on his laptop after sitting at his desk. It only took a moment to load up the video sent to him. All of us crowded around his desk to see.

  We watched images from a security camera outside Doctor Chalmers' building, as two people, a man and a woman, walked in. The long coat the man wore was completely out of place in the Atlanta heat.