The Royal Occult Bureau

by Barbara Russell

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.” A pulse drummed in my temple. I faced the hearth as shame and humiliation burned my skin. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. And I know that men don’t consider bedding a whore like cheating on their wives. You, you don’t have to feel guilty, and I won’t hold any grudge against you. It wouldn’t be fair of me when countless men did the same.”

  “Dammit, Asia, do you think I’m such a cur?” Desperation crept in his voice.

  The thud of his footsteps preceded him. Then he took my arm and spun me towards him until I was half an inch from him.

  “You do count for me. You deserve respect, from me and from the entire society.” His fingers clenched around my arm. “Look at me.”

  I gazed up. The heated glint in his eyes held anguish.

  “Believe me.” His voice cracked. “I care about you and Charlotte.”

  “Why?” I asked. “No one cares if a whore dies. Even the bureau doesn’t care, but you, you’re different.”

  The hard slant of his chin told me I struck a nerve. “Don’t make the mistake to think I’m an angel.” He ran a hand over his face, wincing as he touched the wound.

  Evander put his hands on the mantelpiece, hunching his shoulders. “There’s something I must tell you.”

  “You can tell me anything.” Always better than being lied to.

  He didn’t turn towards me. The light of the fire cast hard shadows on his face. “Using you as bait was my initial idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sex attracts incubi. They can smell, feel, and sense when two people are making love. Sex is a beacon they follow easily. That’s why incubi can be found roaming around brothels. Pleasure houses are irresistible for incubi and succubi.” He finally glanced at me. “As I told you, women with grey eyes are usually immune to an incubus’s charming power, and incubi are particularly attracted to grey-eyed women. The plan was simple. While I had sex with you, the incubus wouldn’t have been able to resist the call and would’ve barged into your bedroom, falling in a trap.”

  The gasp I released was filled with shock. “But you didn’t have sex with me.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t. It felt wrong and . . . It was too dangerous. A mistake, and you would’ve been killed.”

  The pause and the hesitation with which he spoke the last words made me think he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. But I didn’t want to push him now. He might stop talking altogether.

  “I knew the incubus would’ve come, and I was ready to fight him, but after he attacked you and I fought him, I realised he was stronger than I thought.”

  I touched my chest where anxiety pressed. “Is this what Sirius meant when he said to tell me the truth?”

  He nodded, but again, there was a pause before his answer. “That’s why my superiors didn’t object when I decided to accommodate you here. They knew you were supposed to be the bait and didn’t want to lose you.”

  Great. I was a piece of meat to offer to Bertie on a platter. The more I knew about the bureau, the more I was convinced it needed a few changes.

  I stepped closer to him, needing him to tell me more. Secrets and half-truths wouldn’t help me find Charlotte, and she was the only reason I wasn’t running away from the bureau and its schemes. “Still, why are you so keen on protecting me?”

  A frustrated huff left his lips. “Why can’t you simply accept that I want to protect you.”

  “Because you’re hiding something.” I put a hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “The idea to use me was yours, but then you changed your mind, and you became angry when that man at the bookshop insulted me. What aren’t you telling me, Evander?”

  “Asia . . .”

  “I need to know the truth if I want to save Charlotte. Every scrap of information you withhold from me puts me and her life in danger.”

  Evander reeked of nervousness and fear, as if he were worried I might judge him.

  The crackling of the flames filled the silence between us. Turmoil etched his features. He swallowed.

  “Only a few people know that my mother was a prostitute,” he said in a firm but low voice.

  I trapped a new gasp threatening to escape me. That explained a lot.

  He studied my face before continuing. “And she was a famous one. Miranda of—”

  “Jasmine House,” I completed, half in shock, half in awe.

  Evander was the son of the most famous and paid whore in history.

  Every whore knew the story of the fallen aristocrat who became the most paid and most requested lady in underground London. Rumour had it her fees were so high she could live with only a couple of very selected clients per week.

  “I’ve heard of her. Tarts and clients spoke of her like she was a goddess.”

  The comment earned a quick, sad smile from Evander.

  “Your mother was famous and respected. Well, at least in my world,” I said. Dash it, it came out wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  The smile brightened. “You didn’t.”

  I cleared my throat before I jumped into his arms. “No one knows what happened to Miranda. She disappeared and was never heard of again, which helped create a myth around her.”

  His eyelids drooped. “She died giving birth to me.” The tone was flat, but the hard ropes of his neck tensed.

  “Oh.” I clamped a hand over my mouth.

  “My father, Lord Lynch of Bradbury, decided to adopt me and take care of me, to raise me as his own, but his wife never accepted me.” An outraged knot formed between his brows. “Officially, I was the son of one of my father’s relatives who died in an accident. We couldn’t tell the truth because my father’s wife refused to rear me as one of her children.” He paused and closed his eyes for a moment, surely lost in some sad memory. “My father died when I was eleven, and I knew I wouldn’t receive anything. Not money, not love. I had to work in the mansion to earn my keep, cleaning the stables, helping in the kitchen. Everyone in the house avoided me and feared me.”

  I longed to smooth those worry lines on his face with my kisses. A world of loneliness and pain echoed in his words. We were more alike than I’d thought. “Why did they fear you?”

  Long tendons stood out on the back of his hands when he clenched them. “You heard the stories about Miranda.”

  “Yes.”

  “You heard how she was able to ensnare rich clients with a single glance, how men tramped over each other to be her clients, how she became rich beyond any prostitute’s dream.”

  “Yes,” I said again, a thought worming its way through me. “All that and more. They said that men went mad under her spell. Some women believed she was a witch.” I stifled a gasp. I’d never given much thought to the rumours, but now the word ‘witch’ had a new real meaning.

  “There was a reason my mother was such a successful prostitute, despite her prohibitive fees.” Evander stared at me with an intensity that shook my core. “She was a succubus, and a clever one at that.”

  “Oh, my God.” This time, I couldn’t contain my shock, but Evander didn’t flinch at my intake of breath.

  “My mother never drained or killed her victims, showing an unprecedented self-restrain that was never heard of among her species. Her ability to keep a low profile kept her out of the bureau’s investigation. Some agents suspected she might be an Unnatural, but as long as she didn’t kill anyone, no one bothered her.” Another sad smile played on his lips. I wished I could know what he was thinking. “Her charm on men was irresistible, which also explains why my father kept me. His obsession with my mother was so absolute he couldn’t bear the thought of causing her pain by leaving her son alone and uncared for, even after she was dead.”

  Lord. I plonked down into an armchair. “How . . . I thought that incubi and succubi were immortal? How did she die giving birth to you?”

  He shrugged as
if the matter didn’t trouble him. “Succubi aren’t supposed to bear human children. It’s remarkable that she didn’t have a miscarriage, but she grew weak. The pregnancy drained her and eventually claimed her life.” His stance slackened. “She could’ve gotten rid of me, you know, but she didn’t, knowing that she might die.”

  “Oh, Evander.” I sprang up and wrapped my arms around him.

  After a moment of tense hesitation, he returned the hug fiercely and buried his face in my hair.

  “She loved you.” A succubus capable of love. I didn’t know much about Unnaturals, but I’d already judged them as cold, evil creatures.

  “I thought you wouldn’t understand,” Evander said, pulling back from me.

  “I’m not here to judge you.” I put a hand on his chest where his heart kicked against my palm. “I’m the last person who can judge others.”

  His big hand covered mine, and he stroked my knuckles with his thumb. “Thank you.”

  “Did your mother’s power pass to you? Is this why people feared you?” Is this why I’m so attracted to you?

  “Yes.” He stopped stroking my hand. “When I was a child, I couldn’t control my power.” A rueful chuckle rasped out of him. “Hell, even now it’s hard, but back then, odd things happened around me. I couldn’t charm people like a proper incubus, but my energy caused objects to fall on their own accord. Glass cracked when I was angry. Fire sizzled at my command, and my energy simply made people uncomfortable in my presence. When I was thirteen, I met an occult agent, Wayne, a man who had been tasked with investigating my mother. He was the head of the bureau at that time, but fell prey of her charm too and protected her. He became the only friend I had, although I was aware he sought me only because I reminded him of my mother. Wayne looked after me, worried that my Unnatural nature might be discovered. He taught me to control my power and instructed me on the Unnaturals’ power. When I was fifteen, he managed to enrol me at Sheltenham Academy. No one was sorry to see me gone. Only Jasper knows that I don’t need to inject myself with the green serum like the others.”

  “So the attraction I feel . . .” Of all the dozens of questions swirling in my head, I had to choose this one.

  He flashed a mischievous grin. “Grey eyes, remember? I can’t charm you.” He reached out and caressed my cheek with so much tenderness I wanted to weep. “But I can be a danger for you. If I lose control of my power, I can drain you. My incubus power is the reason I decided it had to be me to attract the incubus. My power combined with the lure of the sex would be a powerful beacon. I couldn’t risk your life.” He dropped his hand. “But now you’ve volunteered to be the lamb. I confess that the reason I told you all this is because I hope you might change your mind. I hope you understand how dangerous playing with an incubus could be.”

  I fought the impulse to take his hand and kissed it. He had spilled it, but he was still taken, and I might be a whore, but I wasn’t a thief. “I am more determined than ever to carry on.”

  Despite the cold spiral of dread coiling around me.

  Nineteen

  THERE WAS NOTHING more boring than hearing men discussing politics or, God forbid, cricket and rugby. But hearing them talk about technicalities on the plan to catch Bertie I’d helped conceive was the king of boredom.

  Sitting at a table in Jasper’s office, I squirmed in my hard wood chair. The bureau should invest some money in furniture and windows. The windowless room with its dark walls seemed to close in on me, and the gloomy light of the gas lamps did nothing to cheer up the atmosphere. Not to mention that my arse was growing numb on the uncomfortable chair.

  “This is the right place,” Jasper said, thumping a finger on a point in the map of London spread on the table. “The incubus is bound to drive close to this road.”

  I groaned inwardly. Jasper and his men couldn’t agree on which house should be used to attract the incubus.

  Damon, the bronzed-haired one, shook his head. “The house there has two storeys.”

  “So?” Sirius huffed, reclining his head.

  “Defending a two-storey house is more difficult than a cottage here.” Damon tapped his hand in an area around north-east London.

  Protests erupted. Everyone spoke together.

  “It’s not in the right place,” Jasper said.

  “The incubus isn’t stupid,” Damon added.

  I slouched back in the chair, wishing I was sprawled on Evander’s couch, reading my book. Had I complained about finding Evander’s house boring? Yes, but I was eating my words back.

  We’d been discussing the location of the house for more than an hour, the coffee was a watery brew that tasted of burned wood, and the scones were so rock-hard they could be used as a weapon.

  “Gentlemen.” I waved a hand and stood up.

  Everyone fell silent, most likely because of the surprise of seeing me there. I was sure they’d forgotten about me while they reviewed the plan.

  Now that I had their attention, my tongue tripped on itself. Great.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Sirius asked.

  I could bet that if we’d been alone, he would’ve added ‘whore’ at the end of the sentence.

  “I’d understand if you’ve changed your mind,” Jasper said.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Damon added.

  “Yes, she has.” Sirius’s sharp tone could cut glass. “Van Doren approves the plan.”

  Evander’s fingers flexed. “He can’t force Asia though.”

  “Listen, I still want to carry on with the plan.” That earned me a glare from Evander. “I just wanted to say that, in my opinion—”

  “No one asked,” Sirius snapped.

  “Sirius.” Jasper curled up his upper lip. Then he turned towards me. “Please, continue.”

  I cleared my throat. “Well, I was thinking that the locations you’ve proposed might not be the best.” I expected another venomous comment from Sirius, but he remained silent. “We know the incubus is following a schedule. Before Jasper and I killed the cryptid, he gave me another line of the song. It said something a whore going on a spree and drinking herself to death.”

  Damon lifted a shoulder. “The line could mean any place. Lord knows if there are enough pubs in London to keep everyone drunk.”

  Jasper leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. “Even if we can identify the place where the incubus means to strike next, the plan is to attract him somewhere else to protect the next victim.”

  “Yes, but I think the song refers to this place.” I put a finger on the map right over West Kilburn, following the anti-clockwise path of Bertie. “There’s a brothel here called The White Spree. If Bertie is going to be around this area in the next few nights, I think we should find a house here. Do you have any place in West Kilburn?”

  Murmurs spread as they considered my option.

  “The idea is sound,” Evander said, smiling at me.

  “I have a house in West Kilburn,” Damon said. “It’s off the main road and with a park around. Nothing big, just a couple of hectares.”

  I arched a brow. ‘A couple of hectares’ was nothing big? Not for me.

  “It’s decided then,” I said.

  No. They talked for another hour until my head spun, but in the end, they agreed Damon’s house was the best option. Then they started to discuss other technicalities of the plan: how many agents they needed, where to place them, and how many types of ammunitions they had to carry. I did my best to follow, but the technical terms had me lost in a few minutes.

  Evander stood up and handed me a brass key. “Why don’t you go home and relax? We have a few more things to examine, and you look exhausted.”

  I almost snatched the key from his hand. “Thank you.”

  ~ * * ~

  WHATEVER EVANDER AND THE other agents had to discuss had to be something complicated because two hours had passed since I left the meeting room, and Evander wasn’t here.
r />   I tucked my feet underneath me as I reclined on the chesterfield sofa next to the window. The back garden separated the house from the busy road, and little noise reached me. Carriages rattled past. People promenaded on the pavement, oblivious that world had turned a shade darker.

  The sound of a key turning in the lock crackled, and I jumped off the sofa. Knots of anxiety tightened in my abdomen as I thought about the imminent meeting with the incubus, but the curiosity to know what the agents had decided was stronger.

  I skidded to an abrupt halt in the foyer. A tall woman stood next to the door. Long golden curls escaped her velvet hat, and pale blue eyes flared wide at me. Lace covered her slender neck and elegant fingers, and the faintest shade of pink coloured her cheeks. A gently bred lady if I’d ever seen one. Someone who had never carried baskets of coal to earn half a loaf of bread.

  The girls of De Luna House would kill for the deep Prussian-blue coat rimmed with velvet and silk that hugged her curves like a glove. Her rouged mouth fell open as she set her gaze on me.

  For a moment, none of us spoke. We stared at each other as if wondering who of us was the intruder.

  The blonde woman straightened and tipped her chin up. “Who are you?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I was about to ask you the same thing, and how did you enter?”

  “With my key.” She showed a brass key similar to the one Evander had given me. “What are you doing in my fiancée’s house?”

  Bloody hell. Shock punched me in the chest. So this elegant, beautiful woman was Evander’s bride-to-be. I smoothed the crumpled skirt of my plain grey dress. How could I have known that the woman had free access to Evander’s house? Usually, the gentleman courted the lady in her own house, and the lady never came unchaperoned in the gentleman’s apartment. Her presence here would be considered inappropriate. Well, I was one to talk about decency.

  She squared her shoulders. “I came here alone because I knew Evander wasn’t at home. My chaperone is waiting for me in the carriage,” she said, seemingly reading my mind. “You, on the other hand, have no business here. Again, who are you?”