Storm of Sin

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “This is not a good time. If you will excuse me—“

  “No. I’m afraid I can’t do that. I need your help.” Velma leans a hip against the counter next to me and trails her hand down my arm. “I caught a case where a succubus was poisoned. And I could use a…demonstration.”

  Arching a brow, I retreat closer to the threshold, anger stirring in my gut. “A demonstration?”

  Velma follows me, her hands pressed to my chest. “I want to understand how incubi and succubi feed. And reading about it isn’t the same thing as experiencing it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Hey. You want to step back, bitch? Or should I report you to Other Resources?” Zoe forces herself between me and Velma, and the feel of her ass brushing against me stirs my arousal until I register how much danger she’s just put herself in.

  With a hiss, Velma bares her fangs, and Zoe’s eyes widen. Before I can move, the vampire has Zoe pinned against the refrigerator, one hand wrapped in her curls, the other around her throat.

  “Get away from her. Right fucking now,” I snarl and shove Velma across the room.

  The vampire rolls to her feet, her eyes changing from violet to blood red, and stares at Zoe like she’s a lamb waiting for the slaughter. “Who the hell do you think you are, human?”

  I can scent Zoe’s panic, but I stopped feeding on fear after my time with Thorn, and my instinct to protect, to hold Zoe close and ensure nothing ever happens to her flares white hot. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I glare at the vampire with as much power as I can summon.

  “I do not give demonstrations, Velma. Everything a Bureau agent needs to know about the talents of incubi and succubi can be found in the handbook. You think because the commander is preoccupied, you can do whatever the fuck you want? Hardly.” Keeping Zoe close, I edge closer to the telephone mounted on the wall, then dial security. “We have a situation in the break room. Agent Velma Mont Clare just attacked and threatened my partner. Bring the silver cuffs.”

  By now, the Yeti and two of the witches have flanked us, ready to lend aid. The vampire is a new transfer, and has rubbed almost everyone the wrong way in the past two weeks. This…will be the end of her.

  “You will regret crossing me,” Velma says, her fangs lending a slight hiss to her words.

  I snarl at her. “And if you ever put your hands on my partner again, I will personally stake you through the heart with a silver dagger.”

  If I were alone, I would bait the vampire further, but I will not risk Zoe’s safety. Nor the others standing with us. Velma swears and curses us as the Bureau’s security team drags her away in cuffs.

  “Where are they taking her?” Zoe asks softly.

  “She will be detained in the underground holding cells for a day, perhaps two, until she is sentenced.”

  She sucks in a sharp breath and wriggles free from my hold, her slight body still trembling. “Sentenced?”

  “For attempted murder. There are certain crimes that are not tolerated in our world, Zoe. A vampire exposing your neck, fangs bared, eyes blood red? She was seconds from biting you, and she would not have stopped until she had drained you dry.” I should be more delicate. Considerate. Gentle. But our world is full of dangers she has yet to learn, and I must protect her at all costs.

  Even if we can never be together—if she never accepts me—she will always be mine.

  Zoe

  My neck aches from the vampire’s fingers around my throat, and my legs aren’t all that steady, but I refuse to let Sin help me back to my desk. I force myself to walk ahead of him, then as he pulls out my chair, I meet his gaze. “What the hell were you doing back there anyway?”

  His brows shoot up. “I was getting coffee.”

  “And letting a vampire feel you up.”

  He grunts something that might be “fuck,” before taking a seat at his desk and glaring at me. “You made it quite clear this morning that there was nothing between us. Is there some reason you care who I let ‘feel me up’?”

  Because I was wrong.

  That’s what I want to say. Instead, I brace my hands on the desk and force strength into my tone. “Because she’s going to jail. And she almost killed me.” I swallow hard and keep my stare locked on Sin’s very blue, very stormy eyes. “Is it too much to ask that my partner act like a fucking professional?”

  He leans halfway across the desk, close enough I can smell his cologne. Or maybe that’s simply his natural scent.

  “Watch yourself, Zoe. You have seen a part of me I do not show to anyone. But this face? This side of me?” His lips curl into a snarl, and his eyes churn with emotion. “I am a demon, and I have killed more than I have ever saved. Do not test me.”

  Oh, I want to test him. A lot. Until this cold, calculated demeanor of his cracks and the real Sinclair comes back. The one who held me all night last night. Who stopped a vampire from killing me.

  Arousal warms my core, and Sin’s nostrils flare. Shit. I have to change the subject. Or get the hell away from him somehow. “I’m still waiting for the bill for the clothes,” I say as I shove my hands under the desk so Sin doesn’t see them trembling. “I won’t be in your debt.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticks for a full thirty seconds before he finds his words. “I have more money than I can spend in a thousand of your lifetimes, Zoe. Keep the damn clothes. And gather your things. I believe I tracked down one of the missing men. His name, at least. And we have an appointment to speak with his brother in twenty minutes.”

  I don’t want to be in Sin’s Fiat sitting less than a foot away from him, having his scent wrapped around me.

  “So, who is this guy?” I ask.

  “There’s a new tablet in my satchel for you. All of his information is on it.” He stares straight ahead, his voice flat and hard, and I roll my eyes. Fine. I’ll play his game. At least the tablet isn’t likely to try to kiss me. Or make me care about it. Not unless other worldly technology is somehow sentient.

  “Gregory Locke, twenty-nine years old. Hasn’t reported to his job at the Fisherman’s Terminal for two weeks. Lives alone. No forced entry, no signs of a struggle.” Scrolling through the police photos, I enlarge one or two, hoping to find something…anything…that points to Temple or Thorn, but the police report is accurate. Everything looks…normal.

  I sneak a glance at Sin. “You’re sure this guy is with Thorn?”

  He stiffens. “Yes. My vision is better than a human’s. They were masked when they attacked us, but the scar on his neck is distinctive.”

  Enlarging Gregory’s photo, I focus on the mark below his jaw. “It almost looks like a brand. The letter K?”

  “Yes. From a Los Angeles gang. Gregory grew up there.” Sin accelerates up a hill, and I grab the door handle. I know his reflexes are sharp, but I’ve never been a good passenger. He sighs and slows the car to a more reasonable speed.

  “You’re infuriating,” I mutter quietly.

  “Because?”

  His mocking tone grates on me, and I roll my eyes again. “You’re an asshole. Grade A. One hundred percent. Until you purposely slow down because you know I don’t like it when you drive so fast. I can’t reconcile those two sides of you, and it’s making me crazy.”

  “I am trying to protect you, Zoe.” His fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and the veins in his neck bulge as he takes a slow, deliberate breath. “I cannot deny what I feel for you. Nor do I want to. There is something between us. But if we give in—if I give in—you will be hurt and I could not live with that.”

  I don’t know what to say, but circumstances don’t give me the chance because Sin stops the car and pulls effortlessly into a parking space in front of Gregory’s apartment building. .

  “We are here.”

  Twenty-Two

  Sin

  Gregory Locke’s brother, Nathan, doesn’t speak as he leads us to a pair of couches in his sparse living room. “Kinda surprised to get your call,” he says once we’re seated. “The detective in charge of
Greg’s case said they didn’t have enough evidence to continue the investigation.”

  “We are not affiliated with the San Francisco Police Department. Consider us…independent investigators.” I focus my gaze on Nathan’s brown eyes, prepared to employ my talents if he pushes too far. Mem-Clear is a last resort only—one I rarely agree to use.

  “I don’t care if you’re with the clown brigade if you can find my Greg.” The strain in his voice and the rather significant bags under his eyes speak to the close relationship he shares—or shared—with Gregory. “They said he probably just ran off. Found a girl or lost himself to drugs again. But he wouldn’t do that.”

  Zoe taps her tablet screen a few times, then arches a brow as she focuses on Gregory’s photo. “Your brother had several arrests for drug possession with intent to sell back in Los Angeles.”

  “Greg was clean. He’d been clean for three years.” Nathan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver chip. “We both were. Went to meetings twice a month, together. The last one was a week before he disappeared.”

  Zoe’s tone softens. “I’m sorry. We had to ask.”

  “Comes with the territory,” Nathan says quietly, then angles his head to show off the tattoo on his neck. “We got wrapped up in a gang when we were kids. I was fifteen, Greg was just thirteen.”

  Nathan falls silent as he scrubs his hands up and down his thighs. “That’s why I know my brother wouldn’t just run off. We got out together. Moved up here together. He wouldn’t have left me.”

  This man is telling the truth. I would bet my life on it. “We need you to tell us everywhere your brother might have gone the night he disappeared.”

  Two hours later, over mulitas from Tacos El Primo, Zoe and I find a bit of a peace. Perhaps it is distance from this morning’s events, or the food, or the shared desire to honor the anguish of Gregory’s brother. She’s somber, but every few minutes, looks over at me or out at the water. Something in her gaze stirs a distant memory. One stolen from me.

  Another pair of eyes, the same emerald green. Another smart mouth. Another set of long, elegant fingers that fiddled with…something. Not a bracelet like Zoe wears. Metal. Fuck. Chains. Thorn's chains.

  I can almost see her. Almost touch her. Almost hear her screams as she died reaching for me. The world stops, the plastic fork in my hand suddenly transforming into the whip he forced me to use to hurt her. To hurt all of them. I am no longer with Zoe. I am a prisoner. Chained. Starved. Beaten.

  “Do not fear, my love. I will come for you soon,” I whisper as Thorn calls for me and curses my slow response.

  A hand wraps around my throat, cutting off all my air, and Regina’s voice consumes my entire world. “You will answer truthfully, demon. Or you will die.”

  “I will answer truthfully.” It is all I can do. I am powerless against the Fae, even as my love’s emerald eyes plead for me to fight.

  Thorn forces me down to my knees. “You think you can deceive me?”

  With everything in me, I try to resist, but Regina’s compulsion is too strong. “Yes.”

  He laughs, the sound grating along my spine. “Then you will watch her die.”

  “Sin?” Zoe touches my arm, and the fork falls from my hand, tumbling down the stone steps in the breeze coming off the bay. She rushes after it while I am still frozen in place, tosses it in a nearby trash can, and then hands me hers. “Are you okay?” The blue of the sky and the scent of the water chase the memories from my grasp. But a faint vestige remains, and I know now. Why I am so drawn to Zoe.

  Whatever she is? The part of her that is other? It may be unique in this world—she may be unique in this world—but another woman centuries ago carried the same power she has. If only I knew what it was.

  “Merely lost in thought. Nothing to be concerned with,” I say, hoping she will believe me.

  For a moment, she considers my words, weighing their tone, their truth. Apparently convinced, she asks, “What’s next?”

  Relief makes my reply easier. “Old fashioned police work. We visit every spot Gregory may have been, and we talk to as many people as possible.”

  Her lips twitch into a half smile. “At least that’s something I’m good at. And we’ll be back in the human world for a while.”

  Turning to her, I reach across the plates and cover her hand with mine, hoping she will not pull away. When she twines our fingers, something inside me warms. Another familiar feeling I need more of. Much more. “We will be in your world, Zoe. But that does not mean the danger is any less. Thorn and Regina have practiced the art of deception for centuries. Millennia, even. As far as I am aware, they cannot change their physical appearances beyond hair color and clothing, but with their particular talents, they can hide in plain sight. Disappear in an instant. And get to anyone. So I must ask you to do something for me.”

  “What?” Her face is so open, so expressive. Concern, curiosity, and a hint of fear all playing over her features on a loop.

  “Stay by my side. Do not go off alone. Not until this case is over. No more errands like this morning. And at night, you will stay with me. My apartment is heavily warded, and we will be safe there.”

  “Sin—“ Her shoulders jerk back, and she tries to pull away, but I grip her fingers tightly.

  “Please, Zoe. You can take the guest room. You do not have to talk to me, or even see me. But after what happened yesterday, we cannot take the chance. I was careless this morning when I let you leave. My anger got the best of me, and I put you at risk. What you found on James Temple’s will? The watermark? Were you able to tell what it was?”

  “No. It just looked like some strange curved lines.”

  “It was anything but. Once I rotated the images appropriately, it was clear. Thorn and Regina forced Temple to write a new will the day before he shot you.” Zoe flinches, but I have to impress upon her the seriousness of the threat. “The watermark was of an orange blossom.”

  “An…orange…blossom…” Her hand goes limp in mine, and I can see the realization in her eyes.

  “It was a message. They are coming for me, Zoe.”

  “You. Not me,” she says.

  “The easiest way to get to me?” I bring her hand to my lips and brush a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her. “Would be to go after you.”

  Zoe

  The sun is flirting with the horizon by the time we return to Bureau headquarters. I’m exhausted, and all I want to do is spend an hour or two with Sin in private so we can talk. Really talk. The short bursts of time we’ve spent in the car haven’t been enough to have any sort of meaningful conversation.

  “The easiest way to get to me would be to go after you.”

  When he said those words, I wanted to smack him. The man runs as hot and cold as the ancient pipes in my apartment. But when he’s hot, he’s positively smoking. Possessive, protective, and about as alpha as they come. Yet still one of the most respectful men I’ve ever met.

  The bullpen is nearly deserted. Kunchin waves from his desk, and I nod towards the break room. I need to talk to someone other than my partner-slash-lover-slash-most-annoying-demon-on-the-planet. And I need coffee. Now.

  I can feel Sin’s eyes on me as I walk away from him, but when I toss a glance over my shoulder, he quickly turns to look at his computer screen.

  “You all right, Zoe?” Kunchin asks, then hands me the carton of sweet creamer. “Velma was a powder keg waiting to blow. Good riddance. And I haven’t said that about any other agent in my five years here.”

  “I’m fine. Just a little sore.” In truth, my neck aches like a motherfucker, but I managed to cover up the redness with some foundation and powder, and we’ve been so busy interviewing people today, I’ve mostly ignored it. “Is she…?”

  “We don’t tolerate that shit here,” he says. “She’s headed to the vamp prison on Alcatraz.”

  “There’s a vampire prison on Alcatraz? No, wait. Of course there is.” Shaking my head, I lean back against the counter
with a sigh. “I’d ask you to pinch me, but your hands are twice the size of mine and you’d probably break my arm totally by accident.”

  His laugh sounds almost like a bark, but it’s such a happy, joyful noise that I forget he’s a yeti and join in. So gently I almost don’t feel it, he bumps my shoulder with his fist. “I may be big, but I’m a gentleman.”

  “Can I ask you something?” We stand side-by-side, staring out at the bullpen, and I can’t look at Kunchin or Sin at this point, so I pin my gaze to the assignment board on the far wall. I’m not sure how I missed it before, but the San Francisco office of the Bureau only has a dozen agents. The rest of the people working here are all support staff. Crime scene investigators, Mem-Wipe technicians, researchers.

  “Anything. I’m an open book.” Kunchin turns and fills our mugs, then adds a truly unhealthy amount of creamer to both of them.

  “You’re like seven feet tall and covered with white fur. You don’t…live here, do you?”

  “Here? At the Bureau?” His ice blue eyes widen, but then he chuckles and pulls a small black box from his pocket. With the press of a button, the yeti’s entire body seems to blink and vibrate for a split second, but nothing else happens. “Perception filter,” he says. “Works on all humans.”

  “Um, I think it’s broken.”

  Kunchin cocks his head, then shakes the box. “Dammit. If this thing’s on the fritz again…”

  My stomach clenches, and I brace my hands on the counter. “You said it works on all humans. But what about others? Does it work on them too?”

  “Nope. It’s coded for human eyesight only. Well, and human recording devices. This is the age of the cell phone video after all.” He peers down at the box and fiddles with the buttons as I pull out my phone and snap a photo of him.

  “Oh, shit.” I show him the picture. In it, a tall, very well-built man with pale skin and snow white hair stares at the box in his hand. His very human hand. “It’s working just fine.”