Personal Demon

by Kelley Armstrong

  I looked behind Karl. "Where's Griffin?"

  "Taking a nap."

  I must have looked alarmed, because he added, "I only knocked him out. But the man definitely needs to work on his people skills."

  "And William?" Paige asked.

  Karl's acerbity gave way to a look of genuine regret and he said gruffly, "I'm sorry, Lucas."

  "Someone shot him before we got here," Hope whispered.

  "Probably long before. The logs showed the elevator coming down a couple hours ago."

  I thought I'd prepared myself for this. Hope went on, saying that she'd seen a vision of his death and that he'd been killed by someone he seemed to know, that he'd been getting a file and commenting on his killer working overtime.

  Carlos...

  "I can go back," she said. "I'll try again and maybe pick up more."

  "No," Karl said. She shot him a look, not too tired to resent him speaking for her. "You've done enough."

  "Karl's right," Paige said. "You need to get some rest." As he bustled Hope onto the elevator, Paige murmured, "I'm sorry for putting her through this."

  "She wants to help," he said.

  "I know, but we didn't mean to--We didn't know."

  He nodded, then looked at me. "Your father did."

  I felt the weight of that look. How many times had I seen it? As if they expected me to apologize for my father's behavior or at least explain it. I couldn't.

  I promised to call Karl with an update in the morning. He pretended not to hear, and the elevator doors closed.

  WE FOUND GRIFFIN in the doorway of a filing room, recovering from Karl's blow. He was convinced Hope was behind tonight's attacks, that she'd encouraged the gang to strike so she could enjoy the chaotic outcome.

  I understood now that an attraction to chaos lay at the root of Hope's powers. I presumed it was similar to a demon's hunger for chaos, but it was difficult to transfer that concept from a demonic entity to a young woman, particularly one eager to stop trouble.

  If my father knew of that chaos need, and brought her into a situation that would feed it...An issue to contend with later.

  For now, I disabused Griffin of the notion that the gang was responsible for these attacks. The blueprints suggested they'd been involved, but only working under the real perpetrator--the one who'd supplied those plans. I did not, of course, speculate on the identity of that actor. Not until I had hard evidence.

  When the security team arrived, I sent Griffin to the hospital to guard my father. Then I had to deal with William's body.

  Two brothers dead; the third almost certainly responsible. Had someone suggested this possibility yesterday, I'd have agreed that such a thing could happen--the tensions and jealousies that had been simmering all my life could finally explode in a Shakespearean tragedy. But the admission would have been purely intellectual. To witness it unfolding? Beyond comprehending.

  I STOOD OUTSIDE a hospital room in a small private facility run by supernaturals, funded by the Cabal for the sole use of their employees.

  Two guards flanked the door, as immobile and expressionless as tin soldiers. I'd been standing here for five minutes and neither had acknowledged my presence. In light of the night's events, to speak would mean having to find something to say, and it was easier to stare straight ahead and do their jobs.

  Paige had gone in first to get an update on Troy. He was out of surgery, still unconscious, but his condition had stabilized. My father was with him, Griffin having joined them.

  When I heard Paige offer my father something to eat, I knew she was starting to stall. I had to get in there.

  Oh God, how could I tell him?

  I took a deep breath and walked in. My father, hearing my footsteps, pulled back the curtain.

  "Lucas."

  He reached out with one arm, the other hand clutching a coffee cup, cardboard rippling under his grip. One look in his eyes and I knew he already suspected what I was here to tell him. Maybe that should have made it easier. It didn't.

  I walked over and embraced him.

  A HALF-HOUR later I was sitting in the tiny Reflections Room with Paige. Two guards were posted at the door. I'd have preferred to stay with my father, but it had been his suggestion that we rest here for a few minutes. Someone had to find Carlos and supervise the intensive operations surrounding not only the investigation into my brothers' deaths, but also the notifications, the cover-ups and the arrangements, both private and public. It would be too much for my father. The duty fell to me.

  And he had another duty, one that I could not help him with: telling Delores that two of her sons were dead and the third was missing.

  I hadn't mentioned my suspicions about Carlos. As strong as my father was, that revelation might be too great a blow.

  The search team had a report of Carlos dining at a restaurant he frequented. It had been hours since he'd been there, but it would be a place to start.

  I was due to meet with the search team in thirty minutes. In the meantime, I was heeding my father's advice, resting in the Reflections Room. In a public hospital, this would be the chapel. While many supernaturals adhere to a religious faith, the Cortez Cabal is careful to keep such places nondenominational.

  "I don't think I can do this," I said after a few minutes.

  "You can."

  "Investigate one brother for the murder of the other two? My brothers?"

  "You can, but if you don't want to, he'll understand."

  I shook my head. "It isn't a matter of want."

  "Then you can."

  I turned and she kissed me, barely more than a press of her lips against mine, but when she pulled back, I could still taste her. I lifted my hand to the back of her head, pulling her into me, and I wanted to lose myself in her, just for a moment, forget everything and--

  My cell phone vibrated.

  Paige sputtered a small laugh. "I'm going to guess that isn't your heart--or anything else--fluttering."

  "Unfortunately."

  "I'll go find coffees," she said. "We'll need them."

  HOPE

  DIAMONDS IN THE ROUGH

  I dozed as Karl drove, waking, befuddled, when he pulled into a lot I didn't recognize. Then I remembered I couldn't go back to my apartment, and briefly wondered how I was going to brush my teeth before deciding it really wasn't that important.

  Karl led me to an exit door. I felt a twinge of curiosity, but couldn't muster the energy to ask. We entered a quiet, carpeted hotel hallway. A glance up and down the hall, then he sat me in a plush armchair next to a window overlooking a pool.

  "I'll be right back," he said. "Wait here."

  "Where's here?"

  "The Royal Plaza. I'm going to get us a room."

  His lips brushed the top of my head. I watched him go, numb from my nap and number still from chaos exhaustion.

  Why hadn't we come in the front door? I was sure this was a place with valet service, and surer still that Karl never parked his car when he didn't need to. One glimpse of my reflection in the window, though, and I realized I was in no state to endure curious stares.

  I pulled my feet up, my shoes sliding off. I was almost asleep when Karl's hands slid under my arms, lifting me.

  "Shhh, I've got you."

  "No, I can walk."

  So I did, shoes in hand, leaning against him for support. He let me get as far as the room door then scooped me up and carried me inside. Even that brief trip to the bed, rocking against his warm body, was almost enough for me to drift off again.

  But then, perversely, as I was finally lowered into the proper place for sleeping, the fog of the past hour parted and everything rushed back.

  I saw Bianca's face as the gun fired. Her killer standing over her body. Benicio's guard, face destroyed, looking up at me, gaze empty. William reeling back, eyes wide with disbelief. Troy in a pool of blood.

  I saw it all and I felt it all, the delicious chaos of destruction and death.

  As I started to shake, Karl
rubbed my arms, leaning awkwardly over the bed, then he sat and tugged me onto his lap. I huddled there as he whispered and stroked my hair. Was it only yesterday I'd silently cursed him for not knowing how to comfort me when Jaz and Sonny disappeared?

  I let myself stay for a couple of minutes, then pushed away and wiped my eyes. As my vision cleared, I saw the last remnants of my mascara smeared across his white shirt.

  "I hope you didn't want to keep that," I said.

  He straightened his arms, the cuffs riding up his forearms. "Not really."

  I looked at the ill-fitting shirt, tear-streaked and mascara-stained, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the last few hours, I'd yelled at him, kicked him, punched him and thrown up on him, and he was still here. Selfish? I'd never call him that again.

  He pulled back the thick white comforter and sheets, and laid me down.

  "I'm not really ready for bed yet," I said.

  "I know. I'm just making you comfortable. I'd offer you a drink but..."

  "Not the way I like to handle things. And probably not a good habit to get into."

  "Agreed." He paused. "A bath?"

  Any other time, that would have been the right answer. There was nothing like a bath for giving me time alone with my thoughts. But tonight even thinking about being alone, I started to shake again.

  "I--I don't think I can do it, Karl." I looked up at him, my eyes filling. "If that's what it's going to be like...If it's only going to get worse...I don't think I'm going to make it."

  The last words came out as a sob, cut off as Karl's lips pressed against mine. His hands went to my cheeks, holding me still as he pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his lips still touching mine.

  "I--I'm sorry," I said. "I don't mean to--"

  "Shhh. Here, focus on this."

  The room went dark, a vision flashing, but I pulled up straight, shaking my head hard enough to scatter the vision and knock his hands from my cheeks.

  "P--please. No more. I'm sorry. I can't handle any--"

  "Shhh. Just look. It's okay."

  The vision flickered and I tensed. Then, like peeking open one eye, I snuck a quick look.

  I was crouched on a dark rooftop. At the distant roar of an engine, I walked to the roof's edge. Far below, car lights crawled along a busy road. A horn honked. I cocked my head but around me, all was silent.

  A slow survey of the rooftop. Adrenaline still surged from a narrow escape. Too narrow, I chided myself. I was too cocky. Took too many chances and came too close to paying the price. But it felt good. So damned good. And I was good enough to pull it off.

  A small laugh. Karl's laugh.

  My clenched fist opened and I looked down to see a black-gloved hand and, nestled in the palm, a diamond bracelet glittering in the moonlight.

  "Yes?"

  Karl's voice, but disconnected from the vision, and it pulled me back into the hotel room. I was lying in the bed now, Karl stretched out beside me, his arm under my head, his face inches from mine, eyes as bright as the diamonds.

  "More," I said.

  He smiled. "Are you sure? You said you didn't want--"

  "More. Please."

  He took me back under, to the rooftop, diamonds in hand, the distant wail of a siren making my heart trip with exhilaration.

  Simple chaos, but my favorite kind--that mix of danger and excitement, devoid of moral quandaries. I was certain he hadn't found the bracelet lying in the trash, but he'd been careful not to show me where it came from, letting me enjoy the aftermath without guilt.

  I stepped to the edge, so close my toes rested on air. The wind caught my jacket. It rustled and billowed. A strong gust rocked me, as if tempting me to take that final step. I smiled, and backed up a few inches to crouch on the edge and survey the street below. Lights flashed to the east. Coming from the same direction as the siren? Yes. Coming this way? Hard to tell...

  The lights veered around a corner.

  Yes, apparently so.

  A fresh surge of adrenaline, telling me to move, but I lingered another moment, casually slipping my hand under my jacket, unzipping the inner pocket. I let the bracelet slide inside onto the small pile of others nestled at the bottom.

  My pulse raced as the lights came closer, but I drew it out, waiting until the last possible moment--

  The memory snapped off.

  "Enough?"

  Karl's face was inches from mine and I could feel his breath, smell it, and it reminded me of what he tasted like, and I wanted--

  "Is that enough?" he repeated, lips twitching.

  "No," I said hoarsely.

  "You want more?" His hands slid down my shirtfront and started unbuttoning it from the bottom. "Maybe we should get you ready for bed. In case you drift off."

  There wasn't a chance in hell of that now, and he knew it, his lips curving as my breath came in short pants. As he spread my shirt, his thumbs brushed my nipples, and I moaned.

  "More. Please."

  His hands went back to my breasts, cupping them, nipples squeezed between his fingers.

  "Oh, you didn't mean that, did you?"

  I hadn't, but I wasn't complaining. I writhed, trying to get closer to him, but he locked his elbows, his hands on my breasts holding me back. His fingers plucked at my nipples, hard and rough, sending shock ripples through me.

  "More," I said.

  "Of what?"

  "Damn you."

  His lips pressed against mine, his body still held back even as I strained to get closer.

  "Don't worry," he murmured. "I won't make you choose."

  The room dipped into blackness again as his teeth closed on my nipple and I hesitated, torn between the two worlds, perched on a rooftop, sirens growing ever closer, and lying on a decadently soft bed, feeling his tongue teasing my breast, hand sliding up my thigh. Then, slowly, they merged into one and I was on the roof, feeling what he'd felt, that delicious chaos, while his tongue and fingers and teeth satisfied the ache and stoked the fire ever higher.

  The flashing lights stopped in front of the building and I knew there was no question now. Someone had sounded the alarm.

  I loped across the rooftops to where I'd left the rope--

  A flashlight beam pinged off the walls five stories below--in the alley, right beneath my escape route.

  I surfaced from Karl's memory, gasping as he nipped the inside of my thigh. I arched back into the pillows, spreading my legs and lifting my hips, as if he needed directions. His laugh vibrated through me.

  The vision pulled me under again and I was tugging up the rope as quickly and quietly as I could, all too aware that I was removing my only escape route.

  Karl's tongue slid inside me and I called his name, my hands going to the top of his head. He chuckled again, the vibrations this time nearly sending me--

  The vision surged stronger.

  I had the rope. Now how to get off the roof...?

  As I struggled for a backup plan, I surfed between the memory and the hotel room, wanting to see the escape to the end, lap up every bit of chaos, yet reluctant to miss one second of an amazing--

  The vision yanked me back under, and this time I knew he was responsible, making the memory stronger whenever I was on the verge of deciding I'd rather immerse myself in the here-and-now.

  I stood on the edge of the building again, this time along the side, between the street front with its flashing lights and the alley with its searchers. Someone shouted below, but I ignored it. The goal was to get off this roof before I needed to worry about what they were saying and the only way to do that was...

  My gaze lifted to the building beside mine, then dropped to the fifteen-foot gap between the two. I laughed, and that laugh--half "are you crazy?" half "sure, why not?"--sent shivers through me. I surfaced from the vision, and those shivers turned into gasps and shudders, nails digging into the bed, his tongue and teeth doing things--

  He pulled me under again and I barely had time to curse him before the visi
on took over.

  I measured the distance between the buildings. A dozen feet? Fifteen? Miss and there was nothing to keep me from becoming a diamond-studded stain on the alley floor.

  My kingdom for a backup plan.

  If I splatted on the road, I'd have no one to blame but myself.

  Perhaps if I returned the way I'd come up...

  Another shout from below ruled that out.

  I backed up ten feet, paused and made it fifteen. I stood there, heart hammering, straining to hear the voices from below.

  Then I ran for the edge. At the last second, I launched. The other building seemed to loom an impossible distance away. I hit the height of my jump, started on the downturn and--

  Oh, shit.

  I wasn't going to make it.

  The chaos was so strong I cried out as it hit me in waves, dimly telling me it wasn't chaos I was feeling, but I was trapped in the vision, falling, my feet dropping beneath the edge of the other building.

  I'd missed--

  Waves of orgasm cut off the thought. Then I felt the lip of the building cutting into my fingers. I braced before my arms jerked out of their sockets as my body came to an abrupt stop. I cried out, rocked by wave after wave, until I fell back onto the pillows, shaking. Even then Karl didn't stop, teasing every last shudder from me. When it finally ended, I opened my eyes to see him crouched on all fours over me, his eyes dancing.

  "Done?"

  I couldn't help feel a tingle of regret that it was over. I looked down, past his open shirt, to the bulge in his pants, and smiled.

  I sprang so fast he let out a grunt of surprise. Flipping him onto his back, I crouched over him.

  "Not done," I said.

  His lips twitched. "More?"

  I pulled his pants down just past his hips and straddled him. "Yes, more."

  That same delicious laugh from the vision filled the room.

  HOPE

  LAYING THE BLAME

  I lay on Karl, my head on his chest, his arms around me. His steady breathing said he'd fallen asleep. When I lifted my head and looked around, his eyes opened.

  "Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

  "I wasn't asleep. I thought you were."

  "I should be but..."

  "You aren't tired. Neither am I. How about that drink then?"

  "Sure. I'll get--"

  Before I could finish, he rolled me over and laid me down beside him, then swung out of bed. His pants were still around his knees and he reached down, as if to pull them up, then kicked them off and tossed them onto a chair, socks following. His shirt had disappeared at some point.