The Royal Occult Bureau

by Barbara Russell

  “We asked a few questions about the girls. It was obvious that the incubus would be interested in you because you can provide him a huge amount of energy.”

  The more he talked, the less everything made sense.

  I set the ice bag on my head again. “Why would I be able to charge an incubus more than other people?”

  “Grey-eyed women are more resilient to an incubus’s charm but can also offer more energy, for a reason not clear to us. You’re a prize to seize, a special treat for him.”

  “Wonderful.” The lights of the room brightened, or maybe my eyesight was becoming normal again. It also didn’t escape my notice that my legs were still on his lap and that he was working on my feet.

  “Men already consider me prey. Now even supernatural creatures want to humiliate me.” I meant it as a joke of sort to lighten the mood, a stupid joke, but he didn’t even smile.

  His muscles stiffened, and he averted his gaze. One day when my head wasn’t splitting in two, I’d ask him to tell me what his problem was with my profession.

  “He disappeared,” I said, to change the subject.

  “Displacement. It’s a trick an incubus can play only once or twice in a day. Displacement tires an incubus. That’s why Bertie chose to leave the fight. He was growing weaker.”

  I didn’t like his pauses. It took too long for him to answer my questions.

  As energy returned in my body, I sat up. “What about the black bird and the symbol it scratched on my window?”

  “It wasn’t a bird, but another unnatural creature called shadow.” His fingers found a sore spot on my ankle. “Do you know about remora fish?”

  “Lord, what’s that? A monster half fish? Does it live in the water?”

  This time he smiled. “No. Remoras swim with sharks. They attached themselves on sharks’ bellies to feed from what remains of a shark’s meal. Shadows are the same thing. They follow unnatural predators, waiting for scrap food, marking the house of a potential victim. It’s their way to attach themselves to the predator.”

  There were things he wasn’t telling me. Even a beaten-in-the-head whore could guess that, but for now, I didn’t want to know more horrific things. Bertie the incubus wanted to rape me. That was enough for one night.

  A knock came from the door, and he slipped out from under my legs.

  “Lynch? It’s me,” a feminine voice said from the other side of the door.

  When he opened it, a woman in a dark blue coat swept into view. A leather bag hung from her gloved hand, and a cashmere shawl was wrapped around her neck and shoulders.

  She strode inside, her grey eyes assessing me. They were a shade darker than mine, but definitely grey. My mind was too sluggish to work properly, but the detail about her eyes colour nagged at the back of my head.

  “What happened?” she said in the professional tone physicians used.

  “Concussion is my guess.” Evander shut the door, and the woman turned to him.

  She exchanged a glance with him. He shook his head.

  “Very well.” In a swish of velvet, the woman sat on the couch next to me. “I’m Doctor Jessica Black.”

  “I’m Asia.” I wondered what she made of me, wearing nothing but a wet shirt and a pair of drawers and lying on Evander’s couch in the middle of the night.

  “Let’s see how your head is.”

  She removed her buckskin gloves. Her slender fingers touched around my neck and head. She checked my pulse and stared into my eyes for a long time.

  “The cut on the head is just a scratch. I can give you a painkiller, but aside from that, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for the concussion to go away.”

  “Jessica.” Evander cleared his throat. “I’ll pay for her expenses.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said at the same time Jessica said, “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Please, give Asia what you’d give me.”

  “Which is?” I sat up, my voice shrilling. I wasn’t going to drink potions made from scales of a dragon or teeth of a wolf.

  “Fast healing medicines.” She rummaged in her bag and fished out a few bottles filled with murky liquids. With expert moves, she measured cups and mixed the solutions.

  “Are they natural things?”

  A fine dark brow arched. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Do you work for the R. O. B?” I pressed.

  “It’s been almost eight years now.” She smiled but not in a reassuring way. It was the smile physicians gave when they were about to slice you up with a scalpel. “I’ll give you something that will make you sleep as well.” She patted my hand and placed a bottle with the mixed medicines on the table. “Is she going to sleep here tonight?” she asked Evander.

  “No,” I said, just when Evander said, “Yes.”

  Jessica paused, her gaze darting between us.

  All I wanted was to crawl in my bed and forget the world, not sure that staying with Evander would help. A sherry would help.

  He glowered. “Asia, you are tired and weak. Please, stay here for tonight.”

  My body shook. Maybe it was the shock. Deep down, I was aware that Evander was right. I wasn’t in the conditions to leave. But the fear coiling in my belly was hard to ignore. “Is it true then? The incubi?” I asked Jessica, almost expecting her to laugh and tell me it was a misunderstanding. I ignored Evander’s raised brow.

  “Not just the incubi, my dear.” She mixed the contents of two bottles and shook them. “There are other creatures out there, more dangerous than incubi.”

  Maybe I should stop asking questions.

  Twelve

  WHEN I WOKE UP after a dreamless sleep, the pain in my head had vanished. Only a dull, distant throb remained, and my stomach rumbled with hunger. Hunger that turned into a wave of panic when I touched around.

  The conversation I had with Evander was real, and I wasn’t in my bed. The bedsheets were too soft and smooth to be those of my bed, and the pillow too big and plush. Scenes of the previous night flashed in my mind. After Dr Black had given me a painkiller that tasted of saffron, I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and Evander must’ve taken me to bed. Whatever Jessica had given me, it had worked like magic.

  Right. Poor choice of words. Maybe it was magic.

  But my head was fine, and even the spot in my chest where Bertie had punched me didn’t hurt.

  I lifted the quilt. My wet underclothes had been swapped with a crisp white nightgown that smelled of lavender. Even my hair was braided in a long tress. My money went on Jessica having undressed me. I doubted a gentleman like Evander would do that. Just the word ‘whore’ made him squirm.

  Gingerly, I sat on the bed and draped the quilt around my shoulders. A thick oriental carpet covered the parqueted floor, and I sank my toes into it. It was like walking on petals. In a corner, a wooden wardrobe and a cherrywood dresser completed the furniture, and thick curtains obscured the windows. It was hard to say if it was day or night. The occult bureau took secrecy too seriously.

  A pair of woollen morning slippers was placed on the rug next to the bed, and a dressing gown was draped over a chair. Evander had thought of everything.

  A sigh escaped me when I donned the dressing gown and the slippers. The fabric was like a caress on my sore body.

  I inched open the door and crept along a dark corridor. The thick curtains and the dim light of the gas lamps were suffocating, and a quick wave of panic rose. Male voices drifted from the other side of the corridor. I paused.

  “The rules are simple,” the cold, hard voice of Dark-hair said. “The Priority Protection Act states very clearly what we should do.”

  “I know the rules.” That was Evander, and in a very bad mood if the wrath ringing in his words was any indication.

  “Then what the bloody hell are you waiting for?” Dark-hair asked, raising his voice. “Just do it!”

  “I’m doing my best,” Evander gritted out.
/>   There was the scraping of a chair against the floor.

  “Are your emotions clouding your judgement, Agent Lynch?” The scorn in Dark-hair’s voice rang sharply.

  Someone cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, this conversation is no longer private.”

  I stiffened and tugged the sash of the dressing gown tighter when footsteps echoed in the hallway. Evander appeared on the threshold, dishevelled and unshaven, and simply ravishing.

  The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular arms, and the pale grey waistcoat stretched over his chest.

  He offered a bow, his hair swishing about his cheeks. “Good morning.”

  “Is it morning then? I couldn’t tell with those thick curtains covering the windows.”

  A corner of his mouth curled up. “Apologies. I’ll draw them. How do you feel?”

  “Better, thank you.” My stomach chose that moment to let out a rumble that sounded like the noise of moose in love. I put a hand on my belly.

  “Hungry?” This time a full smile graced his sculpted lips, and suddenly I didn’t care about the lack of sunlight anymore.

  “A bit.”

  He stretched out an arm towards the room he’d exited, and I walked over to him, taking my time. When I brushed past him, a waft of his clean scent filled my lungs, and a different type of hunger stirred in my lower abdomen.

  Not that he would ever be interested in me. He’d had plenty of occasions to ravish me and had never done it. My chances to dirty-puzzle with him were null, but my body reacted as it pleased.

  Three men sat around a kitchen table so smooth and pristine, I doubted it’d ever seen a kitchen knife or stains of grease. Steaming cups stood in front of them, and the air was thick with the reviving scent of coffee. Two of the men rose when I stepped into the room, but the third—Dark-hair—remained on his chair.

  “Sirius,” a man with curly chestnut hair half-hissed, half-whispered, and Dark-hair stood up, shoving his chair backward.

  “Gentlemen, this is Asia.” Evander straightened to his full height and regarded the men through a narrowed gaze.

  “Good morning,” I said, dropping a curtsy.

  “Asia, this gentleman is Captain Jasper.” Evander pointed at the chestnut-haired man with moss-green eyes.

  Jasper bowed from the waist. “Pleasure.”

  “Damon,” Evander said, and a man with fern-green eyes and bronzed hair bowed from the waist. “And Sirius.” The last one.

  Sirius didn’t bow, but shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Manners.” A warning note rang in Jasper’s voice.

  “Why should I bow to a whore?” Sirius’s chin shot up.

  A collective hiss came from the others.

  Evander rushed past me, heading towards Sirius like an arrow, but I grabbed his wrist. It was so thick I couldn’t fully close my hand around it. “Leave it.”

  Sirius’s rudeness was the last of my concerns.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “Besides, my head has just healed. I don’t want to witness another fight.”

  He locked his jaw but took a step back and fired a glare to Sirius that promised retribution. Jasper tipped his chin towards Damon, who nodded in reply and opened the pantry.

  “Evander was telling us of your encounter with the incubus last night,” Jasper said, clasping his hands behind his back. “You must have many questions.”

  “Evander answered a few, but I do have more.” I cleared my throat while Damon placed cheese, marmalade, and toast on a plate. “Why are you all green-eyed?” I blathered out.

  Evander held a chair for me. The moment I perched on the seat, the others sat too, except for Jasper.

  “It seems that green-eyed men are immune to the power of many unnatural creatures,” Jasper replied, sipping a cup of coffee.

  Many creatures. Just like the doctor had said. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more, especially before breakfast. Questions were piling so fast in my mind I could barely keep up with them.

  “I don’t have green eyes, but Evander”—it still sounded odd to say his name—“told me I’m resistant to the incubus’s charm.”

  Damon, the bronzed one, gestured to his face. “The green eyes rule works for men only. Women are different. Usually, grey-eyed women are those who can resist an incubus.”

  It was the first time I was grateful for the colour of my eyes. Doctor Jessica had grey eyes, too.

  “For you, madam.” Damon handed me the plate.

  I was too ravenous to laugh at being called madam.

  The cheese melted in my mouth with its salty, smoky taste. It was even better than the cheese in Violet’s personal pantry. Not that I’d ever stolen anything from it. Sometimes. And the coffee was strong and intense like Evander.

  While I ate, Evander finished telling how Bertie had displaced himself. I slowed my munching pace as a vision of Bertie’s angry face flashed in my mind.

  “What category is this incubus?” Damon asked.

  Evander rasped a hand on his stubble. “He’s strong, but not more than an agent.”

  “If he . . .” Damon glanced at me.

  Jasper peered at me as well. “Sorry, Asia, but we need to discuss some gruesome details of the incubus. If you wish to leave, I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Thank you, but I’d rather stay.” Despite my words, a quivering note sneaked in my voice. But Charlotte was in danger. Heck, every whore in London was in danger. I wouldn’t leave.

  Jasper nodded at Damon who continued.

  “If the incubus ate four women, he should be exceptionally strong. Besides, it’s unusual for an incubus to kill his victims so quickly and so frequently.”

  Oh, Lord. The cheese didn’t taste that good anymore.

  I lowered the piece of toast I was about to chew.

  Evander’s fingers brushed my wrist. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin.

  “The incubus,” Jasper said, “might be a recently awakened one.”

  “Recently awakened?” I asked.

  He turned to me, his stare firm but kind. I liked how he regarded me as if I weren’t a nobody wearing only a dressing gown.

  “Sometimes incubi decide to hibernate for a century or two. We don’t know why they do it.” He shrugged. “The scientists of our research department believe hibernation is a natural mechanism that . . .” Jasper chuckled. “I’m digressing. My point is, if the incubus Asia calls Bertie has just awakened from a long sleep, he might not have gained his full strength yet, which explains also why he is so hungry.”

  “Then this is the right moment to strike,” Sirius said. “Before Bertie becomes uncontrollable. If Evander did his damn job—”

  “Watch your mouth,” Evander snapped back.

  Jasper slammed a hand on the table, and my cup rattled. “Enough, both of you. Sorry, Asia.” He turned to his men. “Evander, Sirius, please, address your fellow agents with respect.”

  Evander’s hands closed in tight fists, but he remained silent. Sirius’s nostrils flared.

  I swallowed more heaven-sent coffee. “Where is my friend now? Charlotte?”

  The sipping stopped. Damon put his cup on the counter. Jasper drummed his fingers on a corner of the table, and even Sirius avoided glancing at me.

  Every pair of green eyes set on Evander. I angled towards him. He sat straight on the chair, knuckles whitening.

  “What is it?” I lowered the cup. “Do you think she’s already dead? Have you found her body?” I clamped a hand on my mouth as pain slashed right through my chest, and hot tears blurred my vision.

  “Another woman has been found dead next to a pleasure house called the Jack-knife,” Evander said. “It’s not Charlotte. Don’t worry.”

  How could I not worry? “It’s like the song,” I said, choking with relief.

  “What song?” Evander and Jasper chorused.

  My
body trembled when I described what happened close to Jasmine House and the song that Bertie’s driver—the noxus—had sung, or what I remember of it.

  Jasper pulled out a notebook from his pocket and scribbled furiously. “What’s the next line?”

  “I’m not sure, something to do with a boar, a whore hit by a boar.”

  “A boar,” Evander muttered. “Is there a pleasure house with a boar as a symbol?”

  I sank my teeth into my bottom lip. No name sprang to my mind.

  “We’ll do a search.” Jasper kept taking notes. “It shouldn’t be difficult to find a connection between a boar and a pleasure house.”

  “So?” I prompted. “What about Charlotte?”

  Jasper rubbed his temple and closed his eyes for a moment. “We don’t know where she is. When an incubus starts feeding from a woman, the woman develops an addiction for the incubus.”

  “Yes, Evander explained it.” It didn’t bode well. The toast turned into ash in my mouth. “And?”

  “Most likely, Charlotte tried to find the incubus due to her need to be with him.”

  “Which means she isn’t dead, right?” I gazed around the room, meeting grave faces.

  Only Sirius had a half smirk plastered on his mouth as if he knew something I didn’t. Well, surely, he did.

  “How can we take her back?” I asked.

  Damon leaned closer. His bronzed hair caught the light, shining with red and golden hues. “We’ll do what we can, but Charlotte is probably in Bertie’s lair, and finding an incubus’s lair isn’t easy. On top of that, your friend is there because she wants to be there. We can’t help her unless she decides to leave the incubus.”

  “Which isn’t going to happen any time soon,” I completed. At least, she was alive. “Our only chance is to catch the incubus then.”

  “Our?” Sirius slanted me a piercing glare that could’ve drilled a hole in the wall. “Let’s make this quite plain. You aren’t involved in this investigation. In fact, you shouldn’t be here to start with, and after this is over, I’ll personally scrub your memory clean.”

  “Sirius!” Jasper hissed.

  “You’ll do what?” I nearly laughed.