Secret Lives (Secret McQueen Book 9)

by Sierra Dean

“Nonsense.” He glanced over my shoulder, probably checking the place where his two guards had stood.

  Now there were none, though it hadn’t been particularly easy to get rid of the old one without anyone seeing. His body was currently tucked behind one of the large swaths of curtain that kept Davos hidden from the rest of the club.

  “Oh, it’s just us,” I told him, leaning back in the booth and making myself comfortable. “No one will be interrupting us.”

  His eyes narrowed, and all the charming pretense he’d worn to get me here melted away, leaving nothing but a sneering, sinister glare, one that might have made me quake in my booties if I hadn’t seen many things scarier than him in my day.

  “So, I gather you are not J-J-Jessica,” he said, mocking my earlier stammer.

  “Not last time I checked.”

  He gave me a cool once-over, then as realization sank in, he let out a weighty, annoyed sigh. “Of course.”

  “I’m guessing when they sent out my last press release they didn’t include a photo.”

  “Tiny, blonde, annoying. I’m not sure why I didn’t see it sooner.”

  “You were looking with your fangs. You know what they say about that. Only gets a vamp in trouble.”

  “Evidently. I was under the impression you weren’t based out of New York anymore.”

  “I made a special trip home just for you.”

  Davos scoffed. “We both know I’m not that important.”

  “Aw, don’t sell yourself short, buddy. Maybe I’m not here to kill you. Seems like you have a sneaky way of getting out of that sort of thing.”

  He gave me an assessing look, and I was sure he was trying to figure out how much I knew. He leaned back in the booth, mirroring my relaxed pose. The knife sat on the table between us, Bruno’s blood drying on the blade.

  “Perhaps I have something that might be of some interest to you,” he said.

  He was testing the waters, and as much as I wanted to reach across the table and shake him until he told me where Sig was, I couldn’t act rashly. This was the kind of thing I would only get one shot at.

  “What could I possibly want from you?”

  A serpentine smile spread over his lips, giving me the willies in a serious way. Killing this guy, when I eventually could, was going to be a pleasure. I wouldn’t even charge the Tribunal my old fee.

  “It’s funny. Where I come from, there is a word for a woman like you. We call you jędza. This is the reputation you have built for yourself.”

  “I would be offended if I knew what that meant.”

  “Means witch. Fury. An evil woman.”

  I made a mental note to share the word with Genie later, because as an actual witch, she would probably find it amusing. “Well, what can I tell you. I didn’t make the reputation, but I sure do my best to live up to it. Is this going to be the part where you start bragging about how lucky you are to be the one to kill me once and for all? Because let me tell you, that shit’s not original.”

  Davos frowned. “I expected you to be different. You, who once wielded as much power as anyone in our race ever could.”

  “I’m still pretty powerful.”

  “But you reek of humanity. You are laid low, made human. How can anyone be expected to cower before you when you are made of nothing more than blood and bones?”

  “Boooooring.” I rolled my eyes and let my head loll forward in mock sleep. “Your villain banter is worse than your pick-up lines.”

  He bristled visibly.

  “You are very frustrating.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this how you kill so many people? You badger them until they would rather die than spend a single second more with you?”

  I snorted. “Okay, that was good.”

  We stared at each other in a moment of shared contempt. I couldn’t really kill him here, and now that we had established a little banter, the time had come to bargain.

  “You know I’m here to kill you,” I lied. He knew of my reputation and had to have some idea what I’d done for the council before I’d become a member of the Tribunal. So with that awareness, he had to know what I would do with his warrant in my hands.

  “Yes.”

  “And you know I’m not the first one to be assigned the job.”

  “Aw, you weren’t their number-one pick? How sad for you.” He laced his fingers together and rested his interlocked hands on his stomach.

  “I don’t usually waste my time on low-rent Jack the Ripper wannabes. But when they start drawing demon sigils on things and killing innocent girls, that gets my attention.”

  My mention of the sigil certainly got his attention.

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I know a lot more than you think I do. I know a bunch of your buddies in Los Angeles tried to open a gate to Hell, and I know they failed. Do you want me to tell you why they failed?”

  “I suspect you’re going to tell me it was because of you.”

  “You are correct.”

  He gave me another long look, this one more intrigued and less dismissive. “I assume the reason you haven’t simply killed me yet is because you want something from me, then.”

  “I want you to tell me why one of the oldest vampires in the world would suddenly change his mind about killing you.”

  “Maybe he likes me. Maybe he’s a fan of my work.” Davos shrugged. “I can’t speak to the inner thoughts of others, Ms. McQueen.”

  “I think you know perfectly well why he did it. And you’re going to share that information with me.”

  Again he leered at me with a creepy smile that made me want to immediately move to a nunnery so I never had to see another man again.

  I hated knowing anyone had to die with that being the last face they ever saw.

  I really wanted to punch him bloody. Break that nose a few more times before I took his whole head off.

  Just as soon as he told me where Sig was.

  Davos leaned forward, leering. “Why don’t you ask his pretty human servant?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  My blood went cold at the mention of Ingrid.

  Ingrid, who no one had seen or heard from since Sig disappeared. Ingrid, who had spent seven hundred years helping him with his daytime needs.

  “What did you do to her?” I growled.

  “I don’t know what you mean. I simply suggested that if you’re looking for Sig, then you might want to start with the person who knew him best.” Another shrug. “That’s all.”

  “I never said Sig was missing.”

  “What?” He faltered.

  “I asked you why it was he would change his mind about your warrant, but I never told you he was missing. So how did you know that?”

  Davos paused, then said, “You implied it. If he was around, you could ask him yourself why he changed his mind.”

  “Bullshit. Where. Is. Sig?” I was starting to lose my patience with this particular song and dance, and frankly I didn’t know if Davos was going to tell me anything useful. Maybe I should just stick a knife in him now and get back to some proper detective work.

  He seemed to sense my rope was quickly coming to an end, because he looked towards the door again. “I have no idea where your vampire is. Perhaps he got sick of seeing your pinched little face and moved to a different country.”

  “Rude.”

  “That’s what I would do.”

  “Tell me—” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence. The echoing sound of a dozen different police officers bursting into the building interrupted me.

  Amid the cacophony the lights in the space went up, forcing me to blink repeatedly from the suddenness of the change. In that moment, Davos was on his feet, making a break for it.

  I kicked the table between us towards him, grabbing the knife before it hit the floor. The falling table caught him in the foot, sending him stumbling in his getaway. I lunged at him, tackling him to the hardwood as he tried to get up again, and though my wei
ght wasn’t considerable, the surprise of my assault kept him pinned for the time being.

  As did the knife pressed to his neck.

  “You’re going to tell me where he is,” I snarled.

  “Fuck you.”

  I pushed the knife deeper into his skin, and he hissed.

  “Tell me,” I demanded.

  Which was, unfortunately, the precise moment Mercedes came up the steps, gun drawn, and saw the scene laid out before her. She gave me an apologetic half-smile, as if she wished she could just turn around and look the other way.

  She was no great fan of vampires.

  Especially ones who killed human girls.

  But more than anything, she was a good cop, and her moral compass pointed true north at all times.

  “Put the knife down, Secret,” she said.

  “I have a warrant for his execution,” I offered hopefully.

  That was the thing about Tribunal warrants. They weren’t exactly legal. It was a situation the human police knew about and often looked the other way on, but they weren’t too gung ho about ignoring murders that happened right in front of them.

  “You know I can’t let that happen.”

  I did. I knew. And still I wanted to let the knife sink in and deal with the repercussions later. The only problem with that particular plan was I wasn’t going to be able to help Sig or anyone else if I was locked up in a cell somewhere.

  “This is the guy who killed those girls in High Line.” I eased back on the knife and got to my feet. “Make sure he gets a secure cell, preferably one with a nice big window in it.”

  Mercedes made a call on the radio clipped to her bulletproof vest. Something about Vampire Unit, which would ideally already be on site, since they were raiding a vampire bar. A few moments later two uniformed officers appeared and secured Davos in specialty vampire handcuffs, then escorted him off to God knows where.

  “You need to keep asking him about Sig,” I told her. “Please.”

  “I will.”

  “And you need to make sure he doesn’t get out again.”

  She gave me a look that said, Girl, seriously, is that what you think of me? and I left it at that.

  “Take me to see the bathroom.” Cedes helped me off the floor, and I guided her to the women’s bathroom, showing her where I had left the wall open, and the space behind.

  We spent several hours going through the bar together, and by the time I got out, the sky was starting to lighten and some very-early-morning commuters were beginning to make their way to the office. Times like this I was especially grateful for New York, because this was the rare kind of city where I didn’t look like I was doing a walk of shame at four thirty in the morning simply because of the short dress and heels I had on.

  There were messages waiting for me as I made the short trip back to my apartment. A text from Simone that said she’d gotten out fine but would have appreciated a heads-up about the raid.

  Guess she wasn’t exactly worried about me.

  There was a voicemail from Holden checking to make sure I was okay. I sent him back a text since he’d be just about dead to the world right now, but at least he’d wake up knowing I was still in one piece. Another call from Tyler confirmed what I’d figured out on my own. The mark was a demonic sigil.

  Specifically, it was the sigil of Belphegor himself.

  So it turned out it wasn’t happenstance that brought the Prince of Hell to the gate first. They’d been calling for him in particular. After a nap, I was going to have to do a little more research on Belphegor, something our willing captive-friend Harold might be able to offer some insight into, considering he’d pretended to be the guy.

  I found it interesting that Davos, who so clearly wanted to bring Belphegor up, had no idea the demon was already here.

  What was it precisely the big, winged guy had to offer that made him so appealing to these vampire cults? I wasn’t up to date on all my demon lore, so I wasn’t sure why he’d be the go-to guy they would want waiting at the door, but knowing that might also help us understand where he was going next so we could recover him and dispatch him from whence he came.

  I got to the apartment, kicked off my boots at the door, and made a beeline for the couch, where I flopped down face-first in the squishy cushions and covered my head with a blanket to block out the rising sun from our huge windows. Rio jumped up next to my head and started purring happily.

  The clack of a mug being set down near my face wasn’t enough to make me move the blanket, but I grunted a thank you.

  Desmond lifted my legs and sat down next to me, placing my feet in his lap. Judging by the smell he had his own fresh coffee in hand.

  “So I know you don’t like me to press, and I want you to know that I believe you to be very capable and tough.”

  “I sense a but coming.” I pushed the blanket off my head and rolled onto my back, putting two throw pillows under my head so I could look at him without actually sitting up.

  He turned on the TV to the news, where the exterior of the club I’d just been at was shown, police cars and tape in front. It had been taken when it was still fully dark out, and there I was, plain as day in my minidress, looking like a petite dictator as I pointed things out to the cops.

  “You told me you were going to do some recon to find Sig. What I got was no wife in my bed last night and a newsfeed about how a vampire bar got busted for playing a part in a kidnapping and murder.”

  “Probably more than one.”

  “Secret.”

  “So now wouldn’t be the best time to tell you that I got pulled through a bathroom wall because one of the vampires was hoping to make me an unwilling participant in a demonic ritual, right?”

  He rested his hand on my feet, gently squeezing the arches, and took a sip of his coffee before speaking. “I’m not going to tell you what you can and can’t do. It’s not my place, and I know you won’t listen to me anyway. I knew who you were when I married you, and that’s the woman I love, and still love. But, Secret, I think you might not be aware of the fact you are mortal now, and fallible, and there’s going to come a day where you don’t get to walk away and make jokes about it.”

  “If we’re being technical, that day already came.”

  Desmond looked at me with an unexpected pang of sadness and guilt, and I immediately regretted saying it. “Yes. So I know exactly how it feels to see the woman I love die. And this time around I might not be lucky enough to get a second chance.

  “What do you want me to say, Des? I can’t quit my job. Not only does it matter to me, it’s also important, and I’m one of very few people who can do it as well as I do.”

  “I’d like you to reconsider my offer.”

  I lay there in silence and looked back at the muted TV. “You know it’s not that easy. If I agree to become a wolf again, to get re-Awakened, or whatever we want to call it. Born Again Werewolf? I don’t know. But if I do it, my time in Los Angeles is over.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  I was quiet for a long time, not able to properly put into words why it would feel like I was giving up a huge part of my life if I had to leave L.A. How could I make it make sense without hurting him?

  I was silent too long.

  He patted my feet again before getting up. “There’s sunshine here too, you know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My marital discord would need to wait a little longer to be resolved. I knew I couldn’t keep putting Desmond off forever, and in the back of my mind I’d already resolved myself to letting him turn me into a werewolf again.

  That solution made the most sense, there was no doubt. I just hoped I could make amends with the King of the West first, and find a way to be a werewolf queen and work out of the L.A. office.

  I’d need to remember to call my uncle Callum, King of the South, and see what sort of diplomacy might be involved in getting the western pack king to accept my presence.

  I knew it was going to require a l
ot of sucking up and groveling. If the guy had been open to being paid off, it would be so much easier, but werewolf royalty was big on ego, and I’d hurt his pride by encroaching on his turf. Nothing about this would be easy.

  I’d talk to Desmond about my misgivings later over dinner, which would give me most of the afternoon to think about how best to approach things. A combination of hard truth and blow jobs was usually the most successful approach when it came to my husband.

  Not really a magic formula, I guess.

  Shane was waiting for me when I parked in front of The Plaza and handed my keys to the valet. I didn’t say I’d murder him if anything happened to the BMW, but I certainly suggested it loudly with my expression. The Z5 was a custom build that had been given to me years earlier by Lucas, and to my knowledge might be the only one of its kind, with its bright yellow finish and the added bonus of an actual backseat.

  It had also survived nearly as much violence and mayhem as I had, and I wasn’t about to let the thing that killed it be an eighteen-year-old valet with hints of a tattoo creeping up out of the neck of his uniform shirt.

  Shane, on the other hand, did nothing to hide the tattoos that covered his arms top to bottom. He was wearing a short-sleeve shirt even though it was still only spring in Manhattan and what one might classify kindly as jacket weather. Apparently to be a big, scary vampire hunter, he also had to appear like he wasn’t afraid of little things like being cold.

  What a tough guy.

  “You know, God invented leather jackets for a reason,” I told him as we entered the hotel. I pointed to my own, a wide-lapelled one that cost about as much as my old apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. “You can look both menacing and stay warm.”

  “Got some fae goo all over mine last night out in the Bronx. Not all of us have a no-balance Amex. I’m going to need to wait for my next job from the Tribunal before I can replace it.”

  I started to say something when he waved his hand at me. “Don’t you dare offer to buy me one. I’m thrifty, not a charity case.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

  “I know, but you’re like legit rich now. You’d buy me something so expensive I’d feel weird wearing it. I’m the kind of guy who needs one secondhand that was already broken in by some seventies gutter punk named Tito, and has parts of it held together by safety pins.”