by Devin Hanson
I saw Lara swallow and she closed her eyes for a moment. “Double it,” she called back.
Raveth laughed. “A half million for each of you?”
“Do you have it or not?”
In the distance, I heard the faint whine of approaching sirens.
“I have it, though the money orders are in smaller increments. I have my friends to pay as well. If you like, I can arrange for the full sum to be paid in whatever way you like. Small, unmarked bills? The deed to a mansion in the Hills? A Cayman Islands account number? Do you demand a million dollars each? Two million? I will give you whatever your heart desires. But you must act now, time grows short!”
“Is he really good for all that?” Sam asked me.
I shrugged. Given who his mother was and the wealth she had probably accumulated through proxies over the centuries, I didn’t doubt it for an instant. “Yes.”
“He must really hate you.”
The sirens were growing closer.
“Decide!” Raveth shouted.
I could hear the desire in Raveth’s voice. He felt the greed just as much as he inspired it in his followers. It made me take a look at my own life over the last week. How many of my decisions and actions had been motivated by lust?
“I’ve made my decision,” Lara called back. She dragged it out, making Raveth, and me, wait. “No deal!” she said loudly.
I let out the breath I had been holding. Lara straightened her back and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Her hands were shaking and her forehead glistened with sweat. I couldn’t blame her. Not really. She had just turned down millions of dollars in free and easy cash. All it would have cost her was her self-respect and professional integrity. Most people I know would consider that a fair trade. Most people I know had already traded theirs away for a whole lot less.
Raveth screamed wordlessly in rage, and I heard him order his followers to leave. The sirens were close now, only a block or two away. A few seconds later, the walkway below was filled with the sound of running boots.
“Can’t just let them run,” Sam said sourly. He peeked over the edge of the wall, trying to see the retreating followers.
“How would you identify them? Rednecks with guns? There must be thousands within a square mile.” I went to sit down on a chair. “Forget them, they were just hired muscle. It’s Raveth you need to capture.”
Lara moved away, talking rapidly into her radio. She didn’t share my lack of enthusiasm evidently, and was calling in a cordon for the area. The police would pick up a few of the followers, but most would escape. The few that were picked up would know nothing. There had been a forum post somewhere or a Craigslist ad, offering an armed enforcement job for ludicrous amounts of money. None of them would be able to lead the cops to Raveth.
Sam sat down in a chair next to me. “We’re not going anywhere until SWAT clears the building,” he said offhandedly, “so we’ve got a few minutes to chat.”
“Wonderful.”
“I know what Lara is going to want to ask you. How do you know this John Raveth? What did he want here? Is he tied to the murders? Why did he call you cousin?”
I eyed Sam. “Sounds like I’m being interrogated.”
“I could be indirect about it,” Sam shrugged, “but I thought you’d appreciate the directness and honesty. So, how about it?”
“Your first question is easy. I met him two nights ago. He had abducted a friend of mine. I tracked him down and got her back.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at me. “Most people would have gone to the police.”
“There wasn’t time. And no offense, but you guys aren’t the most responsive. I didn’t know if you would have even taken my report seriously. And you certainly wouldn’t have acted fast enough to save her life. I barely got there in time myself.”
“On behalf of the LAPD, I’m supposed to say how that would never happen.” He sighed. “But okay. Fair enough. Is that why he hates you?”
“I also have something he wants. I have a question for you… that man back there… the one you shot. You seem pretty relaxed about it. Doesn’t it bother you? I’m going to have nightmares tonight.”
He grinned at me, but it never made it to his eyes. “That’s what therapy is for. I’d admit to freaking out inside, but I’m trying to act cool to impress a girl, okay? Don’t out me, it’s hard enough as it is.” I laughed and he seemed to relax a little. “With the kind of money he was throwing around, I’m surprised he didn’t just offer to buy it off you.”
“I’ve made my position on the matter pretty clear. Raveth can go fuck himself.”
Sam stared at the edge of the balcony, a frown creasing his brow. “I’ll admit, the thought of earning a few million for one dirty deed had me a little sweaty for a moment or two. Is that what these murders are about? Greed?”
“I’ve no idea, Sam, truly. I don’t know Raveth. This is actually the first time I’ve had a conversation with him, if that’s what you could call it. I don’t know what he wants.” I closed my eyes, then snapped them open again when my subconscious replayed the splash of blood going up the wall.
“And that cousin bit?”
“You’re getting into the area of inadmissible evidence, Sam. Are you sure you want to know?”
“If it helps prevent more murders, yes. Do you need to go make tea or something?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “As far as I know, reading tea leaves isn’t even a thing. It’s a sideshow gimmick, strictly.”
“All right, then spill. What’s the cousin thing about? The two of you look nothing alike.”
“We’re not blood cousins, if that’s what you mean. We’re… related spiritually.”
“Like a fraternity? You have to wear robes and chant?”
“Ugh. No. My mother… she died in childbirth. Don’t give me that look, I don’t need sympathy.”
“Sorry.”
“As far as I have been able to figure out, she was possessed when she became pregnant with me.”
“Like, with demons? The Exorcist, spinning heads and pea soup?”
“If you’re going to make this a joke, I’ll stop talking.”
“No, that wasn’t my intention. I’m just trying to find a frame of reference. I watch horror movies probably more than I should.”
I glowered at him, then shrugged. “There are stages of possession, but that’s not important. What is relevant is my mother was, in essence, already dead when she became pregnant. The demon had replaced her soul and was forcing her body to keep operating in order to give birth to me. Once I was born, the demon no longer needed to keep her body alive.”
“Damn.” Sam looked at me, his eyes wide. “You really believe all this?”
“Did I show you something, or not? I’m trying to be helpful, against my better judgement.”
“I’m not making fun, I swear. I’ve just never heard of anything like that before, is all.”
“Whatever. Raveth went through something similar. I don’t know if it was his mother or his father that was possessed, but that is the connection he claims.”
Sam gave me a wry smile. “Well, you’re right about it not being admissible evidence. But for what it’s worth, I’ll take you at your word.”
“Sam, listen to me.” I leaned forward and caught his hands with my own. “If you’re going to hire me for my information, you cannot share what I tell you with anyone. The things I know can get you killed. I’m not exaggerating or threatening you. If the wrong person finds out you know, you’ll wind up dead.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
I gestured around the roof at us. “You are already in the middle of it, whether you know it or not. I think there’s a slightly improved chance of your surviving if you know what you’re going up against.”
“Only slightly?” Sam tried to make it a light-hearted challenge, but his voice hitched halfway through.
At least he was taking my warning seriously. “That marid was bait for a trap. If I hadn�
�t come along, you and your partner would be dead right now.”
“Maybe. Marid?”
Shit. “The weight lifter guy.”
“What’s a marid?”
“We’re going off-topic,” I warned him. “That is not relevant. I should not have said it.”
“I’ll find out eventually,” he told me.
“For your sake, I hope it takes a long time.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Irritated that I had let Sam lure me into a slip, I buttoned up after that. SWAT took their time clearing the building. We watched from the roof as the dead marid and two thugs were carted off in body bags. When SWAT gave us the all-clear, I undid the twisted steel around the door. It was starting to get late in the afternoon by the time I made it back to my scooter.
Ilyena hadn’t called. I wasn’t too worried. She was an adult, she didn’t need to check in with me whenever she wanted to do something. I told myself that, and couldn’t help but feel jilted. Well, there wasn’t anything to do but go back to the hotel and try and figure out a way to get David’s old cellphone into his suite.
The traffic back to the hotel was killer. Why didn’t I pick a place near downtown Los Angeles to hole up in? It took me nearly two hours of awful bumper-to-bumper on the freeway before I was able to pull off onto surface streets. That wasn’t much faster, but I only had to go a few blocks before I pulled into the hotel valet line.
The valet for the morning was there, looking exhausted but at least paying attention to his surroundings. I couldn’t stay in this hotel much longer. In fact, tonight was the last night. Tomorrow I’d be handing the skull over to Elaida and I could find some place closer to spend a few nights in. It would be on my own dime, but that was a sacrifice I’d have to make.
Maybe I could find a detached guestroom I could rent. It would be more expensive than an apartment, but I just didn’t have the financial stability to rent a full house in the LA market. I was still racking my brain for an alternative housing solution when I reached my room.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Ilyena wasn’t here. Her suitcase was packed up, and she had tidied up the place. I took some consolation from the fact that she had left the suitcase here. It meant she was planning on coming back.
Now what? I had to figure out some way to get David’s phone into his rooms. And I needed to see about getting my clothes washed. I had been away from Ethan’s house for days and my clothes were in dire need of a wash. The hotel had a laundry service, so I bagged up every piece of clothing I had. I handed the bag to the hospitality service lady in my bathrobe when she finally came and locked the door behind her.
When I emptied my pockets out, I had found the card of the photographer from the Beverly Hills bookstore. I sat on the bed in my bathrobe and looked up the website on my phone. The guy—I assumed it was a guy—had quite a portfolio. He had dozens of subjects, along with a few I recognized as being famous Twitter models.
I had been pondering the changes in my life. Raveth had been able to gather a posse of fanatics, greedily carrying out his bidding. I sensed that I could do something similar. I knew there were types of men who became obsessed with a woman and devoted every waking moment to trying to get close to them, emotionally, physically, any way at all. Stalkers, in other words.
It wouldn’t be difficult to find stalkers to lust after me. I probably wouldn’t have to actually sleep with them, just lead them on and keep them hoping. I could gather a score of men who would fight over any attention I gave them. I knew it was possible. I felt the itch in my blood to do it.
The thought turned my stomach. I wasn’t oblivious. I knew I would be a target of lust. But what if I could get the benefits of it without having to deal with the greasy personal invasion of stalkers? These Twitter models weren’t any more beautiful than I was.
On impulse I dialed the number on the card and lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“This is Francois,” a male voice said. He sounded very gay and very French.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, hello. My name is Alexandra. I was given your number—”
“The bookstore girl!” Francois gushed. “Arnaud was so thrilled to have met you! He told me all about you, a beauty with sensationalism seen once in a generation. The next Marilyn Monroe!”
“Um.”
“Yes! Arnaud has the eye! He knows when someone is ready to be let loose upon the world. Your beauty will take the unwitting world by storm, Alexandra!”
Francois’ enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming. He hadn’t even met me yet. Arnaud must have waxed poetical about me, which was embarrassing. “Thanks, I think. Honestly. I was just hoping to find out what services you provided and—”
“Everything! Photography is my specialty, but I also curate and manage my talent. Do you want to model? I could find the most prestigious fashion houses for you to debut with. Would you prefer to escort the exceedingly wealthy? That could be arranged.”
I hadn’t even thought of that. I could find a sugar daddy to keep me in clover. Except then I would have to actually sleep with the guy. No, I’d rather not have my life limited to the beck and call of a man. “I was thinking Twitter, actually,” I said.
“Ahhh.” Francois sighed happily. “There are models that make millions of dollars a year. You could definitely do worse with your God-given gifts. And I would be ecstatic to provide my services for you!”
“Look, uh, Francois. I’m pretty busy, and I don’t really want to make it a job, you understand? I want… to inspire lust in others.” I blushed a little bit, embarrassed at even voicing it aloud.
“Lust is the quintessential goal of every model! It can be lucrative as well, Alexandra. Maybe not as much as if you were doing it daily, of course.”
My ideas were starting to coalesce into an actual plan. “I was actually thinking of taking a large number of photos, then releasing them a few at once, at strategic times.”
“I do not understand, ma chéri. This will not make you much money.”
“How much do your services cost?” I asked, trying to work out how to get Francois to understand what I wanted.
“That can be negotiated later, of course. If necessary, I can take my fee from your earnings.”
“What if you could keep all of it? Except I have control over when you release the photos.”
“All? Perhaps you do not understand how it works.”
“If you do your job well, it would be worth every penny to me.”
“Could I release a few here and there to maintain interest? The animals need to be fed if you are to keep their attention.”
I grinned. He understood the nature of what I was proposing perfectly. “I don’t see why not.”
“This is irregular,” Francois mused, “but I do not see why it couldn’t work. Do you have a Twitter account already you wish to use?”
“No.”
“Ahh… this is even better. Marketing is important. When would you like to begin to take photos? I can begin an announcement campaign immediately!”
“How does tomorrow sound? In the morning, early?”
“It is not much time to set up the proper hype,” he mused, “but if I start immediately… I will have to bump a client. But you are worth it! I know, just by listening to you speak that you will set fire to the internet!”
“Great.”
“Tomorrow, then Alexandra.”
“Please, call me Alex.”
He sighed and put a little moan into it. “Ah, mon chéri, my heart cannot wait for morning!” He gave me an address in Beverly Hills, and hung up after a profuse flood of gratitude and promises to build the most viral campaign the internet had ever seen.
I smiled bemusedly as I tossed my phone back onto the bed. Francois wasn’t what I had been expecting, if he was as good as he thought he was, I would acquire a following of thousands of people all lusting after me. If it worked the way I thought it would, releasing a new set of photos on Twitter would trigger a fresh w
ave of lust that would feed my strength. I hadn’t modeled before, but I was fairly confident. How hard could it be?
Satisfied, I headed to the bathroom and took a long shower. I took the time to dry my hair properly, thinking ahead to tomorrow morning. I was brushing my teeth when I heard the front door close. I cracked the bathroom door wide enough to see Ilyena’s bushy white ponytail disappear into the bedroom.
“Alexandra, are you in the bathroom?” she called.
I spat to clear my mouth of toothpaste and called back, “Almost done!”
“Your clothes came back.”
That was fast. I rinsed out my mouth and went to find Ilyena. She was at the minifridge getting out a handful of little shot bottles. My clothes hung on a wheeled rack by the door, individually folded inside plastic bags.
“Ilyena.”
She turned and smiled at me, but a troubled look kept it from reaching her eyes. “Alex.”
“What’s wrong?”
Ilyena shook her head. She took a hesitant step toward me, then closed the rest of the distance in a rush. I caught her and held her slender shoulders as she leaned against me and tilted her head up to push her nose into the hollow of my jaw. Goose bumps rushed down my arms and I felt the faint stirrings of lust from her.
“Ilyena,” I repeated softly as I ran my hands across her back. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered. She kissed my neck and a shiver ran up my spine. She slipped a hand inside my robe and pushed her head harder against my neck.
I felt her teeth scrape my skin and a groan escaped my mouth. “I’m not going to have sex with you until you talk to me.”
Ilyena pulled back and pouted at me. “I need you, though.”
She had a glazed look in her eyes. Lust and hunger dimmed the usually piercing blue of her gaze. It was a lessening of her, and it doused my growing arousal as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down the back of my robe.
I grabbed her shoulders and held her back at arm’s length. “Ilyena, what is happening?”
“It’s nothing,” she pouted. She reached for me, trying to get at my robe sash.
