“And you’re staking out his house alone?”
I glanced at him. “I am practically immortal,” I reminded him.
“I could kill you,” he mused, reaching to tug a strand of my hair.
“It’s a good bet that whoever this is, they’re not quite as powerful as you are,” I said, turning my attention back to the house.
He smiled. “And how powerful am I?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re very powerful,” I said to appease him.
He chuckled. “You know, from watching TV, I understand there’s a certain protocol for when two people are alone in a parked car, at night,” he murmured, leaning closer.
I grinned and leant closer too. “Yeah, well, I watch TV too and if we are to believe everything that happens on TV then we are probably moments away from being dragged out of the car and brutally murdered.”
He huffed. “You’re no fun.”
I laughed and leant to kiss him briefly. He had come all this way, I may as well give him something. “We’re not hormonal adolescents, peaches, I’m pretty sure we can keep it in our pants for long enough to make sure a pansy-ass old Dean doesn’t get dead.”
“Well, I’ve no doubt we could, whether or not we should is a whole other matter.”
I grinned and shook my head. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” he challenged.
Smiling, I shifted in my seat before leaning over, and resting my head on his shoulder. I rubbed my cheek against the fabric of his t-shirt. I’d been at this for hours and could use a distraction.
* * *
Timothy -
I sighed softly but resigned myself to being her accomplice, and putting aside my little fantasy of getting it on inside a car. “Tired, babe?” I asked, combing my fingers through her hair.
“Nope, I could stay awake for hours,” she assured me but the yawn that immediately followed belied her words.
I smirked, toying with her hair. “If you wish to take a brief nap I might be willing to watch the house for you.”
“No, I could never ask you to do that for me,” she murmured, but her eyes were already closed.
I rolled my eyes but turned my attention to the house my wife had been watching. I glanced down at her every so often. It still struck me as bizarre how comfortable she was falling asleep beside a demon, especially given her past. Why did she feel safe with me? I didn’t actively try to scare her but I was, at my core, evil.
Maybe she wasn’t afraid because she thought that she could defeat me. If so, she still had a great deal to learn. Or maybe she simply intended to disarm me with her freely given affection.
It was impossible to know what was going on inside that head of hers. And that was one of the things about her that enthralled me.
My phone buzzed inside my pocket and I reached in to retrieve it. Terra’s name appeared on the screen. Normally, I might have ignored it but it wasn’t like I had anything better to do just then.
“How’s my favourite tech nerd?” I answered.
She ignored the small talk. “I heard about Nevaeh’s face off with Wrath. Do you think he could be a problem?”
“No. She was a little more eager to go after him before he beat her down so hard. She’s not stupid, she won’t rock that particular boat again unless something big changes. And I don’t see that happening.”
“And he won’t come after her?” she pressed, sounding sceptical.
“He hasn’t so far. He’s one of us; he doesn’t belong here and he’s probably aware that drawing too much attention to himself could lead to a one way ticket home. Their battle likely drew the attention of certain celestials so my guess is he’s deciding to lay low.”
“Nevaeh’s too human to fall under the celestials sphere of influence.”
“Yes, so they won’t hurt her but it also means they won’t be doing her any favours.” I ran my fingers through Neva’s hair, enjoying the sweet, fruity smell of her shampoo. My little hound had stood alone against the embodiment of Wrath and it seemed that, one day, she would do so again. Though, hopefully, it wouldn’t be any time soon.
Terra might be her friend but I didn’t know if that would be enough for Nevaeh to let her into such a personal battle. She wouldn’t admit it, but I knew some things from her time in Hell still haunted her. And Wrath was the only one she could blame for her time spent there.
His was the face behind all her suffering.
How she was able to set her vengeance aside, I would never know. Then again, maybe she was just too human for such things. It was curious, the fact that I felt myself annoyed by the thought.
“If he confronts her again, will you call me?” Terra asked.
I considered it. “What will I get if I do?”
“The one thing you want above anything else.”
A new series of the Golden Girls? “And that is..?” She couldn’t reunite the Golden Girls. Could she?
“Nevaeh’s secrets.”
Well, that was a close second. And it would be easy enough to give her a call if I learned anything about Nevaeh’s war on Wrath. That was, if she hadn’t already lost it. “You have yourself a deal. And they better be damn good secrets.”
“Only the best,” she promised before hanging up.
I looked down at the little hellhound. What secrets did she have? I was almost tempted to orchestrate a confrontation between her and Wrath in order to find out. Almost.
* * *
Nevaeh -
I awoke to the smell of smoke and coughed. “The hell are you doing?” I demanded, waving the foul smelling smoke away with a hand.
“What are you doing? You don’t need to breathe.” He quirked a brow at me, placing the cigarette back between his lips and taking a puff. Arrogant bastard.
Just because I could go without breathing for a while, didn’t mean I didn’t like to have the option. “It’s still polite to give a lady a choice. Put that out,” I ordered. When he was slow to comply I took the cigarette from his fingers and flicked it out of the window. “Those things will kill you,” I growled.
“Babe, I’ve been chewing tobacco since it first became popular, if it was going to kill me it would have done so already.”
It probably had. “How did you die?”
“Infected dog bite,” he said, scowling.
I stared at him for a long moment. Then I started laughing. “And now you’re married to a hound. Kismet.”
He snorted. “It would seem so.”
“Killed by an infection? You such a wimp.”
He snarled softly at me and pulled out another cigarette. “I’m not a wimp, I was just human.” He pulled out a small pack of matches and lit one.
“Humans are wimps.” I snagged the cigarette and tossed it out the window again.
“Hey,” he snapped.
I returned his glare. “It stinks so stop it.”
He smirked. “You drink cattle blood on a regular basis but one small cigarette bothers you?”
“Yes, yes it does. I’m not kissing someone who reeks of smoke,” I said firmly.
A wicked light appeared in his eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
He reached to grab my face with both hands and forced my lips to his. I squirmed and resisted just long enough to express my displeasure before giving in, letting his tongue fill my mouth and tease mine. He made a sound of pleasure before pulling away. “Are we done on surveillance detail?” he asked, his voice husky.
I blinked, flustered, and glanced around, discovering that it was already daytime. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Then I am taking you home.”
Black smoke started to curl around us. “No, stop, what about-” I broke off as the smoke disappeared and we found ourselves in our living room. “The car.” I sighed softly.
“You don’t need a car, you have me,” he murmured as his hand toyed with the hem of my shirt.
“It wasn’t mine, I just wanted to wipe away my prints.”
“W
ell, your prints aren’t on record, so I doubt it will matter. But I will take you back to the car later, if it pleases you.” He reached to tilt my chin up and kissed me briefly.
“Yes, it would. But right now I’m starving. Girl’s gotta eat.” I smiled, flashing him a glimpse of my fangs.
“Mmm, I hope you’re hungry,” he murmured, kissing a trail down my neck as his hands gripped my hips. I had a feeling he wasn’t referring to my hunger for blood. I shrugged out of my hoodie and tugged my shirt over my head.
“Well, I guess I could-” I paused as his hands cupped my breasts and his mouth travelled lower. “Oh shit!” I pushed him back and glanced around in alarm.
“What?” Tim asked, looking a little dazed at my sudden change in demeanour.
“Where’s Pete?”
Tim looked around, as if expecting him to appear. Then he glanced longingly down at my lace-covered breasts. “Fuck… I’ll get him.”
16
16 - Mystery Solved
Nevaeh -
It was reading week so I had no lectures and I wasn’t required at my job. Apparently, they had other people capable of torturing puppies. I was bored so I’d tracked down the others in my cadre. For some reason they were hanging out in an old mansion. Everything was covered in a layer of dust. I sneezed.
“Neva!” Juliette said excitedly as she came into the room.
“Hey, did we join the cast of Scooby Doo while I was otherwise occupied?” I asked, looking around the foyer. Spider webs clung to every corner of the room. I sneezed again.
“Just out of curiosity, who do you think you’d be out of that cast?” she asked.
Clearly, she was having trouble picturing me as part of the Scooby gang. I shrugged. “Dunno. It was a good show but I guess the characters were rather two-dimensional.”
She blinked in surprise. “That’s… surprisingly insightful.”
“I’m a well of knowledge, baby. Wait, maybe I’d be Scrappy. Not because I’m a hound,” I added firmly. “Just because I’ll probably turn out to be evil.” I grinned at her.
She smiled back a little but still shook her head in dismay. “Anyway, we’re off topic. We, my friend, are going to solve the mystery of Lord Francis’s disappearance,” she informed me.
“You’re screwing with me,” I accused. “That’s totally the plot to some episode of Scooby Doo.”
She sighed in exasperation and led me up a dusty flight of stairs. “Are you going to be helpful or not?”
I shot her a wry smile. “That depends. If I do, will I get a Scooby snack?” I asked politely.
She gave me a withering look. I just smiled; at least I thought I was funny. I followed her up to what seemed like the master bedroom, pausing briefly at the doorway to sneeze before following her inside. Dee was already there. She shot me a quick smile in greeting.
“You tell her?” Dee asked Juliette.
“No, for some reason we’ve been discussing cartoons. You tell her.”
Dee grinned at me. “Okay, so Lord Francis mysteriously disappeared about eighty-two years ago. He was a decorated war hero and vastly wealthy. He threw the craziest parties. He was basically Gatsby, minus the criminal element.”
“Gatsby?” I asked, confused.
“Hush, you illiterate swine,” said Juliette firmly.
I pouted but neither of them seemed moved by the expression. Dee continued, “So he goes missing one morning. His mistress is the first to realise it but instead of calling the police, she just nabs the silverware and runs off,” she explained.
I nodded. “Smart woman.” I wandered further into the room, then I leaned casually against a table and looked up at the portrait opposite the bed. It was a sunny landscape picture with a small cottage off to the back. The Lord’s taste in art was clearly questionable.
“Anyway, it takes a day or two for people to realise he’s not just off somewhere. The parties stop, and because he’s so well known it’s a big deal. People start to assume he’s dead, so then it becomes a fight for his inheritance. Less than a week after his death the dead body of his brother is discovered tucked away in an old barn, and the brother’s wife is missing too.”
Juliette picked up the narrative. “Some people assume that the Lord knocked off his brother to steal his wife. Seems reasonable enough, but given the time, his title and his wealth, he probably could have escaped a sentencing, and he’d left all of his money behind. If he really had gone, why not take it?”
Dee nodded. “So for years it’s been this huge big mystery, but recently the diary of the Lord’s sister-in-law was discovered. As it turns out, the brother had planned to kill the Lord for the inheritance, but the same night he’d disappeared the brother had confessed his intention to her. Understandably, she freaked out, they fought, and she ended up accidentally killing him.”
Hmm, it was sort of interesting, very dramatic. “So the brother killed him, and then, was killed himself by the wife.” I didn’t seem that big of a mystery to me. Wasn’t the first suspect supposed to be the spouse?
“Yes, but she wrote that she’d never discovered whether he’d gone through with it or he’d just intended to, and no one ever found a body.”
“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “So why did you come here?”
“The bedroom was where he was last sighted. We thought there might be some secret passage that the brother could have used to move the body. Jason found a secret tunnel under the house, and he’s following it back to see where it comes out within the house,” Juliette told me.
I nodded absently, still studying the painting. I wasn’t much of an art critic, but something about the style reminded me of a Monet, although whoever painted this clearly had more of a sense of humour than the Frenchman.
A moment later a bookshelf was shoved aside and Jason stumbled into the room, covered in dust and cobwebs. I sneezed. He grinned. “Found it.”
Juliette grinned back. “Well, that proves that the brother could have gotten him out of here with no one else noticing. Now we just have to figure out where he might have hidden the body. If he spoke to his wife the same night it was probably somewhere between the tunnel opening and the barn where he was found dead-”
They kept talking, but I stopped listening. I yawned and stretched out a little. I didn’t like this place. The musty scent was unpleasant to my supernaturally-enhanced senses, and the air felt thick with dust.
As entertaining as it might be to watch them keep spinning their wheels, and maybe dig up half the property, I really did want to get out of here. “Hey,” I said. At first, they were too occupied to notice so I glared at them, and considered just leaving them to it. “Hey!” I repeated, louder this time.
They stopped and turned to me.
I pointed to the painting. “It’s Lord Francis,” I told them. They eyed the small figure off to the side of the canvas.
“Okay, and?” asked Juliette.
I rolled my eyes. “He’s in the painting.”
“Yes, we can see that,” Jason told me.
I shot them a look. “Are all mortals so dumb? He’s in the painting,” I repeated.
“What do you mean, ‘in the painting’?” asked Dee.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m really not sure how I can be any clearer about this.”
They all moved closer to the piece of art. “That’s not possible,” insisted Jason.
“Of course it’s possible, he’s right there,” I said firmly.
“Why would you think that’s the real Lord Francis?” asked Juliette.
“Well, unless this is some sort of postmodern crap, last I check, paintings don’t have souls.” Maybe that was intentional though; I never really had understood art.
Jason frowned. “You can sense souls?”
I shot him a look. “What kind of hellhound would I be if I couldn’t? Hell wouldn’t be half as bad if you couldn’t hear the tortured cries of damned souls.”
“Well, we have to get him out,” Juliette
said firmly.
“Okay, have fun with that. I’m out.” As far as I was concerned, my work here was done. I’d possibly saved them days of clueless searching.
“Wait!” Dee insisted. “We don’t even know how he got in there.”
I paused and glanced thoughtfully at the painting. “He was keeping a mistress, who was a witch, and spurned her, which led to her spelling him into a painting.”
“How do you know?” Jason asked, eyes wide.
I shrugged. “I guessed.” Then I spun on my heel and walked out. I was in the mood to check out a movie, or possibly behead some folk. But then, I did have two-for-one cinema tickets. Choices, choices.
17
17 - Hold My Soul
Zobeida -
I glanced around at the mess in Jason’s apartment. “We need to call her,” Rosa said.
I huffed out a breath. I really didn’t want to call her.
“No need, I’m here,” Terra declared, striding into the room.
Well, this was awkward. “We were actually talking about… Nevaeh.”
“Oh, that bitch.” Terra stared at the swirling portal before us. Then she cackled darkly. “Good luck.”
Damn, she was clearly going to be no help. “I’ll call her,” I said reluctantly, pulling out my phone.
“If she doesn’t answer the first time, try again. She’s a bit of a dumbass when it comes to technology. Sometimes she accidentally sends calls to voicemail… well, she says it’s accidental.”
That was not encouraging. I hit Nevaeh’s number and it started ringing. When it went to voicemail I tried again and she answered on the second ring. “I already told you, I’ve never had to pay for sex,” she told me.
“Who exactly do you think this is?” I asked.
Heroes and a Hellhound: Book One Page 9
