The Royal Occult Bureau

by Barbara Russell

  “I’m Asia.” I almost dropped a curtsy. Almost. “I’m here because . . .” Did she know about Evander’s job? About incubi and cryptids? I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “Let me guess.” She removed the pin keeping in place her hat and took off her beautiful coat. “Did the bureau send you here?”

  “Yes.” Sort of.

  “Evander might’ve hinted something about you.” She strolled towards the sitting room, a sense of nostalgia coming off her. “In one of his rare moments of consideration,” she added so low I barely caught it.

  I writhed on the spot, not sure about what to say. She plucked out her gloves and adjusted her curls with the same pristine care of a swan cleaning its feathers.

  “I suppose you sleep here.” She stopped a few feet from me and gave me a long, appraising look.

  To her credit, I guessed I didn’t make a good impression with my dishevelled hair loosely falling to my waist, my bare feet, and the modest grey dress that had seen too many English winters.

  “I’ve been his guest,” I replied, wondering how much Evander had told her about me.

  Whatever she found while searching my face with her stare must’ve relaxed her because she offered a bow of her head. “Your presence has caught me off guard. I’m Lavinia Van Doren.”

  An aristocratic name for an aristocratic lady. She arched a brow as if expecting that the name sparked some recognition from me.

  “Nice to meet you.” I returned the bow. I doubted she’d bow her head to me if she knew I was a whore.

  “Why did the bureau send you here?” Suspicion dripped from her voice.

  “I was in danger of being attacked by an Unnatural, and I’m cooperating with the agents to catch him.” Despite having met the incubus and the agents of the occult bureau, it seemed that the logic and rational side of me had problems accepting that supernatural creatures lived among us because my head ached.

  She paced half a circle, patting her gloves on her palm. “Why didn’t they give you a room in the bureau then?”

  Tarnation. Evander hadn’t told her everything. “I don’t know. Everything is new for me. I didn’t even know the bureau existed until a few days ago.” At least that was true.

  “You can tell me what kind of creature attacked you. I’m aware of the bureau and his activity. I work in the bureau’s administration section.”

  “An incubus attacked me. He’s on the loose in London, killing . . . women as he pleases.”

  Lavinia might be aware of the bureau’s activity, but I wasn’t going to inform her I was a whore.

  She flinched when I mentioned the incubus. “An incubus is a very dangerous creature.” There was a pause before the word ‘incubus’ as if she didn’t want to say it aloud. “You’re lucky to be unscathed.”

  The colour drained from her face.

  “Have you ever met one?”

  She paled further. “No, of course not. Where I would meet an incubus?”

  Fine. She didn’t want to tell me.

  Another pause stretched. I fiddled with my hands and opened my mouth to tell her I’d leave her alone, but she was faster.

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Evander is my husband-to-be.”

  The cold tone made me shiver.

  “I am aware of that.”

  “Just so we are clear, he won’t leave me to marry you.” She said ‘you’ with the same way she’d say ‘drowned rat.’

  Oh, I knew that Evander wasn’t going to marry me. I’d never been deluded to this point. “Your fears are unjustified. Evander has been nothing but a gentleman with me.” Unfortunately.

  My heart constricted. She’d be the lucky one to sleep every night in his bed, to feel all those hard muscles under her hands, to kiss those sculpted lips as much as she wanted.

  The frost didn’t melt, but her shoulders lost their straight pose.

  I bowed my head, hoping for a swift retreat to my room. The more I talked with Lavinia, the more distant Evander became. “I’ll leave you alone then.” To do whatever she’d come here to do.

  “Don’t leave on my account. I won’t stay long. I just have to deliver this letter for Evander.” From her silk reticule, Lavinia produced a cream-coloured letter. “I’ll drop it on his desk and be gone in a moment.” Her cheeks flushed, but not in a sweet way, and her lips clenched.

  The meek way she accepted my presence here made me think she was resigned to Evander’s lifestyle, or maybe he invited women to his house all the time. No, he wouldn’t.

  Lavinia paused on the threshold of Evander’s office. “When are you going to leave his house?”

  “In a few days. This accommodation is temporary.” In a way or another. Either I’d be dead in a few days or we’d catch the incubus.

  “Good,” Lavinia said, striding into the office.

  Releasing a breath, I turned towards my bedroom, but stopped when Lavinia’s hurried footsteps hounded me.

  “One last thing.” She closed her small but strong hand on my upper arm. “No one takes what is mine. You touch Evander, and I’ll burn the heart of you.” With these sweet words, she donned her coat and rushed towards the door like a storm clad in velvet.

  Fantastic. I’d just added a new enemy to my always growing list.

  Twenty

  I SHOULDN’T DO IT.

  I really shouldn’t do it.

  The letter Lavinia had left on Evander’s desk was a temptation. After she’d shut the door, leaving behind a trail of expensive French perfume and sharp words, I’d entered the office. At first, my feet had moved without my consent, following my inner curiosity, but then I stopped close enough to the desk that I could touch the letter if I stretched a finger.

  I was shifting my weight from one foot to another, wondering why I didn’t leave immediately, but the letter teased my curiosity. And with good reasons.

  The envelope didn’t have any sender’s name. The words ‘For Evander’ were scrawled in angry strokes on the back. My money went on the chance that the letter had been written by Lavinia herself, considering that the writing was elegant and pristine, despite being angry just like she’d been.

  Why would a fiancée need to leave a letter on the desk of her betrothed?

  There could be many reasons, of course—an invitation, a document he needed, or a love letter. But Lavinia wouldn’t deliver a love letter on his desk in a boring, plain envelope. A woman like her would seal the love letter in a scented envelope, and if the letter contained an important document, she would’ve left it in his office at the bureau. No, the letter was a personal one and an angry one at that.

  The only answer I could find was that she delivered the letter because she and Evander hadn’t seen each other in a while, so she resorted to write a missive and drop it on his desk in his house. Since the message didn’t bear any official stamp, if I read it, it wouldn’t be like breaching the law. In fact, the envelope wasn’t even sealed.

  It was an invitation my curiosity couldn’t ignore.

  Something was going on between Evander and Lavinia, something not exactly romantic. Or maybe it was the side of me that wished to be closer to Evander that made me hope.

  I glanced at the door. If Evander caught me reading the letter, he would be furious. But I’d hear him coming and have the time to leave the room. Just a quick peek.

  The paper crackled when I gingerly slid the letter out of the envelope. My heart leapt to my throat, and I glanced at the door again.

  Evander, the letter started. No dear or any greeting. I’d been right then. It was an angry letter.

  This is my last warning.

  I knew I was right. A grin stretched my lips.

  Since you seem to avoid me, I decided to write this letter to inform you of what I have been trying to tell you in the past few weeks. Remember what you did to me. Remember how much you made me suffer.

  My father has become more insistent about our wedding date. He wishes
we organise the wedding in a few weeks. Rumours are spreading about our engagement. People whisper behind my back that you have a lover and that you do not seem to court me.

  We must make a decision. I think I have suffered enough, and you obtained what you wanted from me. It is my turn. If you don’t marry me, I will tell everyone what you did.

  You know I am serious.

  Lavinia.

  Lord, she sounded incensed, and she sounded like a blackmailer. Evander couldn’t have hurt her. I refused to accept it. But what if Evander had lost control with Lavinia and attacked her? She was an attractive lady—refined, elegant. If his incubus side took over, he might haven’t been able to control himself. It would explain why she was blackmailing him. If he’d ruined her, he was bound to marry her.

  No. It didn’t make sense. If a man had attacked me, I wouldn’t marry him, not even to save the appearances. Although I wasn’t a young heiress who had to fit into London’s aristocratic society and save the appearances no matter what. Perhaps Lavinia wasn’t a virgin anymore after Evander attacked her, and she wouldn’t find another husband. Toffs were complicated.

  I folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and tiptoed out of the room. Half of the things Lavinia mentioned didn’t make much sense, but one thing was clear.

  The engagement wasn’t a happy one.

  I had barely the time to shut the door of the office and head towards the sitting room when Evander emerged from the bureau’s door. A broad smile graced his lips when he saw me, and a flutter started in my belly.

  “Welcome back,” I said, casting a guilty glance at the office. “Did you decide all the details of the plan?”

  He removed his bowler hat and laid it on a table. “We planned the escape routes from Damon’s house. The house is easily accessible from the main road and is on the route of the brothels the incubus visited in the past weeks. There are good chances he’ll detect your presence and be attracted by you. We’ll be there to intervene the moment he arrives.”

  Oddly enough, his voice didn’t carry any confidence.

  The flutter of before died a swift death.

  “When do we start?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow night. We’ll study the area tomorrow morning and prepare everything for the evening.” The smile was replaced by a frown.

  “Do I need to do anything? Prepare anything?”

  “Try to sleep during the day. It’ll be a long and exhausting night for you, even if the incubus doesn’t show up.” His long eyelashes flapped down. “Asia, I’m going to be honest. I’m worried. The more I think about the incubus, the more he seems a different creature from the incubi I met. I’m not sure we are prepared to face him.”

  “If there’s one thing I learned in the streets is that prepared or not, things happen all the same and crush you like a tonne of bricks. I want to help Charlotte, and she needs me now.”

  “I know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Shoulders hunched, he walked into his office and paused. “Did a woman come here?”

  Oh, dear. “Lavinia Van Doren. Your fiancée.” It sounds unfamiliar to say it out loud. “She left less than half an hour ago.”

  Scowling, he opened the letter. A tendon in his neck pulsated as he read it. He crumpled the letter in his fist and lobbed it into the cold hearth.

  “Bad news?” I stretched my neck to see his reaction.

  “Nothing new.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Is something the matter?” I tried to sound surprised even though my heart gave a guilty lurch.

  “As I told you, things with Lavinia aren’t simple.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a gun. “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  Evander showed me the gun. Its grey metal glinted in the light. “This is an Enfield Special, specifically made to shot Unnaturals. I want you to practise with it, tonight and tomorrow.”

  “I’ve never used a gun.”

  “That’s why I’m going to teach you.”

  The dimly lit tunnels of the occult bureau were crammed with agents when we joined the main underground road. Leaflets were pinned on a noticeboard with warnings about a dangerous witch at large, a wili that was causing havoc in Scotland—I had to ask what a wili was—and an attack from a succubus.

  Evander took a side street, and the noise of the chatter and footfalls diminished. He slid a tubular key on a narrow hole in the wall, and a double metal door opened.

  “Target practise hall.” He tilted his head towards the room.

  The place was as long as a cricket pitch with rows of cubicles. At the end of the room, sacks filled with something hung from chains hooked to the ceiling. Holes drilled the coarse material of the sack.

  Evander flipped two fingers, beckoning me closer. He showed me the gun again. “First, you remove the safety latch.”

  A little switch clicked when he pulled it.

  “You put the bullets here, in the chamber. This Enfield is a semi-automatic pistol. You don’t have to recharge it after a shot.”

  I nodded, although I wasn’t sure what he meant.

  “Try it.” He handed me the gun, grip first.

  It was heavy but warm from his hand.

  “Stand here.” He took my shoulders and gently led me to the front of a cubicle.

  The heat of his chest pressing against my back distracted me, and I missed his next instruction.

  “Sorry?”

  “Widen your stance.” His lips were close to the curve of my neck. “Bend your elbows and close an eye.”

  I did as told, although his hand on mine guiding me sent hot flushes to my face. He adjusted my wrists, shoulders, chin, and head until he was satisfied and I was standing in a stiff position.

  “Pull the trigger. Be ready for the recoil.”

  I wasn’t ready. When the gun kicked back after I pulled the trigger, pain exploded in my shoulder, and I was shoved backward, but Evander caught me.

  A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Well done.”

  “Ouch.” I rubbed my sore shoulder. “It’s absolute agony.”

  “Now that you know what to expect, your muscles will be ready.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Try again.”

  And again. And again.

  He was right. After several shots, I knew how the gun reacted, and I managed to hit a corner of the sack. Sand spilled from it.

  “Are you tired?” he asked, recharging the gun.

  “A bit, but I want to try one last time.”

  “Just lift your hands a bit further up when you shoot, and take your time. Don’t rush it. Also, release a breath when you’re shooting.”

  I took aim, stroked the trigger, and released a breath while firing. The bullet hissed across the ten yards that separated the target from me and hit the lower part of the sack. It wasn’t the middle where a red dot was painted, but close enough to make me gloat.

  “Yes!” I pumped a fist in the air. “I can shoot.”

  Evander laughed. The sound reverberated in my stomach and spilled sinful sensations within me. “You have talent.” He wiped something from my forehead, his fingertips leaving goose-bumps on my skin. “You had some gunpowder on your forehead.”

  “You should laugh more. You look utterly ravishing when you laugh.”

  His expression sobered. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “You don’t have many reasons to laugh, do you?”

  “My job can be hard.” His gaze clouded. “Many times, after we find a body, we can’t even inform the dead’s relatives. They will never know what happened to their loved ones, or if the police are involved, what they know is a modified version of the truth. If my wife, brother, or son died a brutal death in the streets, I would know who did it. I think the secrecy is what bothers me most of the job.”

  I put a hand on his and squeezed. “You’re a good man.” Even if he might’ve done something to Lavinia.

  H
e shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. “Don’t believe that.”

  “You wouldn’t be an agent, risking your life daily to protect people if you weren’t.”

  Another chuckle rolled off him, but it lacked the warmth of his laugh. “You make everything sound simple.”

  “I just know your heart.” I pressed a hand on his chest.

  I meant to withdraw my hand quickly, but once my fingers touched the smooth shirt and felt the hard muscles underneath, I couldn’t stop touching him.

  And he didn’t step back.

  Maybe touching him was a mistake because the simple contact turned my insides into a mesh, and my pulse spiked. The dark heat in his gaze did nothing to convince me to remove my palm.

  He took my hand, and for a moment disappointment speared me as I thought he wanted me to leave him alone. But he brought my hand to his mouth and planted a soft kiss on my inner wrist.

  My knees threatened to buckle. I was a whore, and men had kissed me and touched me countless times. There wasn’t an inch of my body that a man hadn’t touched or bitten, but no one had ever kissed my wrist, certainly not with Evander’s kindness and sensuality.

  My spine wilted when the tip of his tongue stroked my quickly kicking pulse. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss him, but I was afraid he might stop. Breathing hard, I remained still, despite my fingers itching to grab his golden strands of hair and drag him towards me.

  He pushed up the hem of my shirtsleeve, uncovering another inch of skin he nursed with his lips. Wetness pooled between my legs when he bared more of my arm. My wrist was all exposed, and even though I was fully clothed, the effect of his tongue on my skin ripped a moan from me. I closed my eyes for a moment to better savour the feeling.

  Evander planted another kiss on my wrist when he drew up the shirtsleeve to my elbow. I rubbed my thighs together to ease the throb tormenting me. His nostrils flared, and the heat in his gaze intensified. He inhaled deeply as if he were smelling something enticing.

  My lips parted. Could he smell me? My arousal?

  Every rational thought fled my mind when he put a hand on my nape and crushed his mouth against mine. The kiss was a clash of tongues, lips, and teeth. It was raw and wild and completely exciting. His fingers pulled at the back of my dress as if he wanted to rip the fabric. I tangled my hands in his thick hair and pressed my body against his.