Personal Demon

by Kelley Armstrong

  Griffin made a move, as if to lead him away, but I shook my head. There was still one more test.

  "They attacked our father," I said.

  "Is he dead?"

  There was no hope in his voice, but no concern either. I paused, giving him time to contemplate, to react, but his expression didn't change.

  "He's fine."

  "Oh."

  "Griffin will escort you to headquarters."

  Carlos lifted his bound hands. "Not like this."

  "If you'll go willingly--"

  "This isn't a request, Lucas."

  My phone vibrated. It was the SWAT team. They'd already secured the area and were requesting permission to enter the building. I granted it and hung up.

  "Lucas?" Paige nodded to the young woman on the bed and I realized, with no small amount of regret, that I'd forgotten all about her.

  "Untie him, please," I said.

  "Taking your sweet fucking time, aren't you? You like seeing me tied up?"

  I was inclined to say I wasn't the one who liked seeing people bound and helpless. "No, Carlos, surprisingly, I have other concerns on my mind. Our father has charged me with seeing you safely delivered into protective custody. If I need to do so with you bound hand and foot, so be it. Before you go, though, I should ask what happened here."

  "You think?"

  We locked gazes.

  "They came after me too," he said finally.

  "Who?"

  "Well, duh. Obviously the same people who killed William and Hector."

  "You think?" Paige murmured, too low for anyone but me to hear.

  "And the young woman. Is this your handiwork?"

  I waited for him to object, outraged, but Carlos gave me one last unreadable look, then turned to Griffin.

  "Home, Jeeves."

  "Did they kill her to find you?" I asked.

  "I gave you an order, Sorenson. Take me to my father."

  "Did you see or hear what happened?"

  He turned to me. "You're the detective, little bro. Detect."

  CARLOS'S SURPRISE AT hearing of Hector and William's deaths seemed genuine, but he'd shut down when I'd hinted he might have played even a corollary role in tonight's events. In my experience, the innocent either proclaim their innocence or are too shocked by the allegation to intelligently respond. Carlos had done the Cabal equivalent of lawyering up--take me to my father.

  I spent the next thirty minutes examining the crime scenes--the alley, the bedroom and the sniper's roost on a building a block over--and overseeing the technicians' work. They needed little guidance, but they indulged me, knowing I wouldn't contaminate evidence.

  I focused on the young man. Identifying him and his role would help me understand what had taken place here.

  He had no identification. He wore a cargo vest and pants, both with many pockets. When they were emptied, we had two cell phones, two radios, a handheld computer and two devices we couldn't recognize. The extra radios and cell phones seemed to be backups.

  Paige took the handheld computer. "It's a homemade job. GPS maybe? Probably more. It's password protected and something tells me if he knows how to build it, he knows how to protect it. If I start trying to crack the password..."

  "It could trigger a program to erase the contents."

  "If I can use the lab at the offices, I can do more."

  She checked one cell phone as I examined the other. All incoming and outgoing call records had been deleted. Both contained identical lists of eight contacts by initials only.

  "GB," Paige said. "The gang leader is Guy Benoit, isn't it?"

  I nodded.

  "JD, SR, BS...The missing guys are Jaz and Sonny. The dead girl is Bianca. Maybe a coincidence, but something tells me if I press FE I'm going to wake up Hope."

  "I suspect so."

  With that one call we could almost certainly identify the young man. But if I woke Hope to send her pictures of a dead comrade--after the night she'd had--I could safely wipe Karl's name off my contact list.

  I'd have the team run prints, photos and DNA of the victim against Cabal records. I was certain my father would catalogue such information. The completeness of those records was another matter--the gang members were a transitory lot.

  My phone rang.

  "Mr. Cortez? It's Tyson, at the hospital? Guarding Troy's room? You saw me there earlier?"

  Ah, one of the silent guards. The inflections on his sentences told me this was a call he'd rather not be making and I braced myself.

  "Troy's awake, sir."

  I let out a silent sigh of relief. "How is he?"

  "He, uh, seems fine, sir. He's, uh, asking me to--Well, I know you're busy, and he might be..." A lowering of his voice. "A bit confused."

  The rumble of a voice came from the background.

  "He, uh, wants me to ask you to...That is, if you think you should..."

  The rumble grew, becoming Troy's voice, still too distant to be intelligible.

  "I'm sure you have enough to worry about, sir, but he's concerned that--"

  "Give me the fucking phone," I heard Troy rasp.

  "He thinks you--"

  "Give me the fucking phone, Tyson, or I'll be dead before you spit out the goddamned message."

  "Better give it to him."

  A hiss as the phone changed hands.

  "Lucas."

  "How are--?"

  "Later. We've got a bigger problem. It was Carlos."

  "Carlos...?"

  "Who shot me. He came to the house, alone, wanting to talk to your dad, and I knew something was hinky, so I went to talk to him..." A soft grunt of discomfort. "Point is, it was Carlos. I woke up a while ago, but I've been playing possum, waiting for you to come back so I could tell you. I knew if I opened my eyes, the first thing your dad would ask was who shot me, and I sure as hell wasn't telling him."

  "Good. I appreci--"

  "Not so fast. He got a call that Carlos was at headquarters. I waited until he left, then asked Tyson to call you. I told him what to say, about Carlos. Then..."

  His voice drifted off.

  "Troy?"

  "Your dad wasn't gone. He could probably tell I was faking it and hung around outside my door waiting to hear what I was hiding." He paused. "He knows it was Carlos, Lucas. And when he left here..." Another pause. "You need to get there before he does something he'll regret."

  "How much of a head start does he have?"

  "It took me five minutes to convince this numbskull I wasn't delirious and to call you."

  Five minutes, and the hospital was an additional five minutes closer to headquarters, meaning my father had a ten-minute head start.

  "I'm on my way."

  LUCAS

  16

  I GRABBED KEYS and the location of a car from a shocked tech, and took off. As I drove along the quiet streets, Paige held on for dear life with one hand and called Griffin with the other.

  Griffin was holding Carlos in the boardroom. My father had yet to arrive. Ideally, I would have had Griffin quietly relocate Carlos until we got there, but there was no way to do that without the other guards knowing, and no matter what I said, the first guard my father asked would tell him where to find his son.

  I LEFT THE car at the front door and ran in, Paige jogging behind me.

  "Is my father here?" I asked the desk guard.

  "Y--yes, sir. Upstairs. With your--"

  "How long ago?"

  "Umm, two, three minutes?"

  I threw the car keys on the counter as I passed. "It's outside. Have someone park it."

  The private elevator would still be on the executive level, so we took the staff one as far as we could, then the stairs the rest of the way. Paige waved me on ahead--she'd catch up.

  As I raced through the door, voices drifted from the other side of the floor.

  "If you'll just wait, sir."

  "Get out of my way, Griffin," my father replied.

  "I need to update you--"

  "Mov
e, Griffin. Now!"

  I knew Griffin would step aside. No one disobeyed a direct order from my father.

  I broke into a run.

  "Dad," Carlos said. "I heard--"

  "You spoiled little brat."

  A crash and a yelp from Carlos. I rounded the final corner to see the guards at the end of the long hall, clustered around Griffin.

  "Griffin, stop him," I called.

  "I can't--"

  "Who did my father leave in charge?"

  "Lucas, I can't--"

  "I am in charge, and I gave you an order."

  A moment of shocked silence then, as I drew close, Griffin nodded and went into the room.

  "Mr. Cortez, you don't want to do this," he said.

  "Oh, for Christ's sake," I muttered.

  I yanked the guard blocking the door out of the way. Carlos lay on the floor, blood dripping from his nose, eyes glued to our father as he advanced on him.

  "What happened, Carlos?" my father said, voice low. "Was it because I wouldn't advance you money to buy a new sports car? Or because I stopped buying off the whores you beat up? Or because you got sick of having to work for a living? No, not work. Just show up. Because that's all I asked of you."

  "Papa--" I said.

  "Stay out of this, Lucas." He didn't turn from Carlos. "I gave you every opportunity. An Ivy League education...and you wouldn't show up for class. A five-million-dollar trust fund...that was gone before you turned thirty. A VP's salary, with zero responsibilities...and you whine because I expect you here by ten every morning. I always knew you were a vain, vacuous, vicious brat, Carlos, but I blamed your mother's influence. I told myself you just needed guidance. I was wrong. Your brothers, Carlos..."

  "Dad, I--"

  "Your brothers!" he thundered.

  His hands flew up in a spell. Carlos seemed frozen, making no move to cast back, as if he'd forgotten he could, as if this was a nightmare he couldn't escape even by simply diving out of the spell's path.

  So I leapt into it.

  The energy bolt hit my side and I convulsed, blacking out for a split second before hitting the floor and jerking back to consciousness. Consternation crossed my father's face, then vanished as his expression went blank.

  "Lucas, get out of the way."

  "Yes, Lucas," Carlos said. "We wouldn't want to see you get hurt."

  I pushed to my feet and got between Carlos and my father...earning a shove between the shoulder blades for my trouble.

  "You heard Dad. Get out of the way. You don't want to spoil his fun. He's been dying to do this for twenty years. Dying to beat the snot out of me. Tell me how he really feels."

  "Lucas, get out of--"

  "No."

  "Oh, for fuck's sake," Carlos said. "You just can't help yourself, can you, Lucas?"

  "Papa, listen--"

  "Go save someone who needs saving," Carlos cut in. "He's not going to kill me. He might hate me. He might wish I was dead. He might wish he could do the job himself. But he can't. I'm all he has left."

  "No," my father said slowly. "You aren't."

  His gaze shunted to me. Carlos snarled in rage and I spun to stop him from attacking our father. His eyes met mine and I realized it wasn't our father he was after. Before I could dive out of the way, he kicked my feet out from under me. As I fell, his arm went around my neck, crushing my windpipe as he yanked me back onto my feet.

  I opened my mouth to cast, but couldn't speak. When I jabbed my elbow into his chest, his arm tightened, cutting off my air.

  "You're right, Dad," he said. "I'm not all you have left. But I can fix that."

  With his free hand, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, letting our father watch as I wheezed and gasped.

  "Do you know how easy it is to kill someone like this? How fast I can do it? Faster than you can cast a spell. But don't take my word for it, Dad. Give it a shot."

  "Carlos, let him go. He only wanted to help. Let him go and we'll talk."

  Carlos laughed. "Whoo-hoo. Listen to that. Who wants to play 'voice of reason' now? What's wrong, Dad?" His arm tightened so fast I gasped, eyes bulging. "Am I making you nervous? You should see your face, Papa. Sure, you'll grieve for Hector and William, but this--" He heaved me backward. "This one would hurt."

  "If you--"

  "Oh, that's the way. Threaten me. Come on, Dad. Tell me what horrible things you'll do to me if I hurt your baby boy. You say I don't pull my weight around here? At least I show up. This one spends his working hours trying to destroy us. He moves clear across the country to get away from you. Marries a witch. Adopts a Nast. You build him an office, and he uses his trust fund to buy it from you. Sets up shop fighting Cabals with your money. Anything to screw you over. But you keep chasing him, like a pathetic SOB who wants the one piece of tail that can't run away fast enough."

  I kicked Carlos in the shin, hard enough to make him teeter. I grabbed his arm, but it tightened so fast I blacked out. When I came to, he'd gone absolutely still. I wedged my fingers between his arm and my throat, and still he didn't move. I looked up to see Paige across the room, her face pale with concentration.

  "I--I'm having trouble holding the spell," she said. "Can you get away?"

  My father stepped forward.

  "Stay where you are, Benicio. Lucas?"

  I pried Carlos's arm from my throat and managed a raspy, "I'm fine."

  My father tried to move forward again.

  "Not a move, Benicio," Paige said, "or I'll do the same to you. You know I will. Lucas, get away from him. I can't hold--"

  The spell snapped as I lunged to the side. Paige hit Carlos with a knockback spell and he flew into the wall. My father lifted his hands. Paige turned the spell on him and he stumbled back.

  The guards rushed into the room. Paige hurried to me. As she drew near, I could see she was shaking.

  "I almost couldn't cast," she said. "The first one--"

  "I'm all right."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father advancing on Carlos, now restrained by Griffin.

  "Papa. No."

  "Didn't you learn your lesson, baby bro? Stay out."

  "He would have killed you," my father said. "He killed Hector and William, Lucas. Murdered them in cold blood."

  "We don't know that."

  "Don't--?" He shook his head. "He shot Troy. Troy saw him. Are you saying he was mistaken? Lying?"

  "No."

  "I know what happened at Hector's. Carlos was there--the last person to see Hector alive. The butler and Bella both confirmed it for you. Are they mistaken? Lying?"

  "We have no proof that Carlos shot Hector."

  "You sent two officers back here after William's murder to look for evidence that Carlos had been here too."

  "And they found none. His key code hasn't been used since he left."

  "Do you think he's stupid enough to walk past the front desk? To use his own access code? For God's sake, stop being a lawyer, Lucas! This isn't a courtroom."

  "Isn't it? You've judged him, found him guilty and now you're ready to carry out his punishment."

  "He would have killed you."

  "Perhaps, but you put me in charge of this investigation. You can't decide now that you don't want me acting like an investigator. I plan to see this through, and follow the letter of the law."

  "Whose law?"

  "Cabal law." I turned to Griffin. "Take him into custody. Not to the cells, but to the house arrest room. It's to be double guarded at all times. He's to have no visitors except those approved by me. None, including my father. He's to have no food except that ordered by me, delivered to me and taken to him by Paige or myself."

  Griffin glanced at my father. He hesitated, back stiff, then he deflated and nodded.

  "Lucas is in charge. Do as he says."

  HOPE

  RACKING UP CREDITS

  The hotel room door opened with a click. Karl peeked around the corner.

  "You're up."

  I yawned. "Ju
st stirring. Being lazy and enjoying it."

  I was curled up in the king-size bed, propped on two pillows, with the rest strewn around me. On my morning bathroom trip I'd grabbed a robe--not for decency, but because it was thick and soft, too tempting to ignore.

  "You look lost in that bed and that robe. Very cute." He smiled at me.

  "Cute?" I sputtered. I undid the robe and spread it, then stretched out on top of the covers. "Better?"

  His gaze slid down me. "I take it you don't mind a cold breakfast?"

  I noticed the tray in his hands, steam billowing from the plate cover, and I pulled the robe shut.

  "Damn," he said.

  He set the tray down, handed me USA Today, then tossed the Wall Street Journal onto the other side of the bed.

  "You really are spoiling me."

  "No, I'm racking up credits. I suspect I'll need them."

  He kissed my cheek as he leaned over to hand me a coffee.

  "Speaking of credits," I said. "I called my mother while you were out. She said dinner Saturday would be wonderful. She'll make reservations."

  "Too late. Done."

  "You got reservations for Odessa's on a Saturday?"

  His brows arched. "You think I don't know how to get a table at a popular restaurant? You forget who you're talking to, my dear." He set the tray between us as he climbed in. "Dropping your mother's name helped."

  "I'm sure it did. She likes you, you know. For me, I mean."

  "Good. Though I was on my best behavior that night, which may have skewed the results."

  "I don't think so."

  Our eyes met. He nodded. "Good."

  I spread preserves on my toast. "She wants me to invite you to the spring regatta."

  "Rowing? Are you competing?"

  "I..." A shrug. "I'm out of practice, so it'll be strictly a social function for me."

  "There's still time. Consider it a challenge. Get yourself whipped into shape by spring."

  "Are you going to show your support at 5:30 a.m. practices?"

  "Absolutely. From the comfort of my bed, I will be cheering you on wholeheartedly."

  I laughed and took a bite of toast.

  "I'll come out when I can," he said. "In return for breakfast afterward."

  "Sounds fair."

  "And you can tell your mother I would love to come to the regatta. I'm sure it will be a"--a sly grin my way--"glittering affair."

  "Uh-uh. As my guest, you are forbidden to steal from my mother or any of her friends. I'll show you who you can steal from, provided a portion of the proceeds go to a charity of my choosing."

  "A finder's fee?"