Rohan barked a laugh, smoothing out his expression at Baruch’s pointed stare.
I twisted my hands one way then the other, now glowing and crackling away. “So I just need to internalize you as my trigger?” I asked Rohan.
He batted his lashes at me. “Do what you need to, baby.”
“Baruch?” I pleaded.
Baruch pointed to the door. “Go.”
Rohan was undeterred. “You can’t send me away.”
Baruch quirked an eyebrow.
“Fine. I’m leaving. You’re welcome,” Rohan called out to me over his shoulder.
“Can you turn it off?” Baruch grasped my wrist, twisting my hand from side-to-side.
I closed my eyes, thinking about the switch inside me. I located it slightly down and to the back of my belly button, imagining it rooted there, with invisible cables snaking out to all parts of my body and the bright white switch set to on. Mentally, I flicked it the other way. Off.
I opened my eyes. My hands still crackled.
“They dimmed for a second,” Baruch said. “Tell me what you know about demons.”
“Nothing. Ari told me nothing.” My words came out in a rush.
His expression gentled. “He won’t be in trouble. I just want to know what information you already have.”
I lowered my hands. “Okay, well–”
“Did I say stop your visualization?” he barked. “Do you think you’ll be encountering demons with no distractions? Nothing else demanding your attention? Talk and train.”
I made a snarky face–okay, imagined it–but in my head, man, did I put Tree Trunk in his place. I closed my eyes, picturing my power switch. “There are different levels of demons. Some work on a more global scale either in the shadows or more overtly to bring about civil unrest or world wars.”
I tugged on my mental switch. I got the barest hold on it and it vibrated but didn’t flick off. My magic continued to thrum through me. “Hey, how did Vancouver land a spot?”
“This chapter is the Canadian HQ. The fault lines along the west coast draws demons because they like the seismic activity. A naturally occurring instability.”
“That’s the heart of it, isn’t it?” I asked, opening my eyes. “Instability. Natural, political, or emotional, demons thrive in those environments.”
Baruch blinked proudly at me for making the connection. For half a second. “Again.”
I threw all my mental power against the switch. “Some create more localized disasters, collapsing bridges or making sure levees fail.” I had my suspicions about New Orleans. “Then they rush in to exploit an already vulnerable population. Same with areas hit by earthquakes or famine or flood. They feed off the chaos and pain.”
My switch bucked to the halfway point, then crashed back to the “on” position. A sharp crack resounded through my hands. I shook them out.
“Again.”
“Demons are also drawn to big cities. Tons of humans easily tempted. The New York chapter house has at least a dozen hunters stationed there at any given time.”
I kept at my envisioned on/off switch. It took a while. A long while, but eventually, through sheer mind power, I made the electricity in my hands turn on and off at will.
“Mazel tov,” Baruch congratulated me.
I jumped over to him like a little kid and hugged him. “That. Was. So. Cool!” It reminded me of when my balance and movement had come together and I’d done my first perfect shuffle in tap, instead of the clunky, wobbly steps up to that point. The moment when it all just clicked.
I was super proud of myself. Sweaty, metallic-smelling, and tomorrow I’d probably hurt like crazy, but proud. I’d done it. I could access my power at will. Even if this was a baby step, I’d mastered it. I wasn’t sure anyone had thought I’d even get this far.
I wasn’t sure I had.
Staying alive and being an asset. Yay me.
Baruch disengaged. “Now we work on firing up the rest. It might require a kick or even a head-butt to hit the kill spot and you want your power coming out of all of you.”
Rohan popped back in. “How’s she doing?”
I held up a fist. “The sisterhood for the win.”
A paragon of blond-haired, green-eyed perfection stepped into the doorway. His loose, light brown linen pants and shirt really complimented his dark scowl. “As if a girl could become one of us,” he spat in a super sexy Italian accent.
“One did, so suck it up, honey.” I managed to give him the finger and waggle my Rasha ring at him, which was very talented of me, if I did say so myself.
Out in the hallway, Kane snickered.
Hot Angry Dude stalked toward me.
“Drio–” Rohan was cut off as Drio shouldered past him.
Baruch sighed and stepped into his path. Drio was a beautiful racehorse. Baruch was a bull.
“You said no one knew what to do with her. That that was why we got abruptly reassigned, with me and Ro on guard duty at the expense of our own mission. Remember?” Drio didn’t back down, even with Baruch blocking his way. It was quite the commitment to hating me. “Can you say you’re happy about it?” he asked Baruch.
“They reassigned people to me?”
“What did you think would happen, principessa?” he sneered. “That we wouldn’t give you extra special treatment?”
I shoved myself between Tree Trunk and him. I could fight my own damn battles, thank you very much. “Newsflash, jerkwad, no one has told me jack. Believe it or not, I want to be part of your ‘no girls allowed’ club even less than you want me here. But you can’t keep me in the dark.” I whirled to Rohan. “You have to tell me important stuff.”
“The Executive hasn’t decided how they feel about you,” Rohan answered, not bothering to soften that information. “As the first female Rasha, you’re either a dream secret weapon or–”
“A walking nightmare,” Drio cut in.
Rohan raised his eyebrows at him like “really?”
“With the deciding factor being what?” I asked.
Drio clicked his tongue. “Your performance. Supposedly your early death would be a bad thing.”
“Wow,” I said, “don’t I feel precious?”
“You,” Rohan said to Drio, “stop antagonizing. And you,” he turned to me, “don’t think I’m thrilled to babysit your ass.”
“Why you?” I demanded.
“Because I’m such a people person.”
“Or because you’re a screw up?” I scratched my chin with the edge of my thumbnail. “Is that it? Did I get exiled to the island of misfit toys?”
Drio’s hands balled into fists.
“Enough.” Kane’s voice cut smoothly through the tension. He pushed me back a few steps. “A little gratitude here,” he said, with a tap to the end of my nose. “You’ve been given the best of the best. Baruch has put his brilliant military mind to use creating weapons and training Rasha to become even more effective. Rohan and Drio,” Kane placed a hand on Angry’s shoulder, “are two of our top intelligence officers and analysts on demon behavior. Thanks to them, we’ve unearthed and taken down a lot of demons living among us in positions of enormous power.”
I cocked my head. “And you?”
He shrugged. “I’m just the lone Vancouver member who wasn’t re-assigned.”
Drio laughed. “Kane’s nickname is the Kiss of the Death. He’s one of the top Rasha in demon kills.” His fond amusement morphed into an ugly leer. “We are the best. And you’re the bright shiny trophy the entire demon world will want to bag. Be grateful or we won’t keep you alive.”
I rubbed my skin as if to wash his disgusting look off. “Never in a million years.”
Drio shrugged, exiting with a tossed-out, “If the demons do get you, you won’t be missed.”
I flinched.
White spots of rage appeared on Rohan’s cheeks. His eyes darkened to volcanic fire. He didn’t say a word. Just sped from the room.
“Oh no,” Kane said. He and
Baruch raced after him, with me bringing up the rear.
We caught up in time to see Rohan leap from midway up the second flight of stairs onto Drio, tackling him. They crashed onto the main floor landing.
Drio managed to flip onto his back, but that merely allowed Rohan to pin him between his thighs.
Rohan pulled his left arm back. I tensed, waiting for his hand to curl into a fist and Drio’s nose to be shattered. Instead, five short, wickedly sharp looking blades snicked out of Rohan’s fingertips, with one long blade running up the entire outer edge of his arm. Like an outline. That longer blade slashed right through the center of the heart tattoo on his bicep.
Holy. Fuck.
“Finally decide to kill me?” I couldn’t tell if Drio sounded anxious or hopeful.
I stared wide-eyed at the two of them. Not even daring to breathe. There was a powder keg of unspoken issues between them, and I was scared I was the fuse that could blow it all sky high. I didn’t like Drio but I didn’t want his death on my conscience.
Necessarily.
With a blur of motion, Rohan swiped.
Drio flinched, eyes closed, but Rohan jammed the blades into the ground beside his head.
“The demons will be after her,” Rohan said, in a low rumble. “Which means we stick close and protect her. With. Our. Lives.” He sounded oddly bleak about the concept. “Got it?”
Drio pushed Rohan off him. He gave a mocking salute. “Got it.” With one last baleful look my way, he jumped to his feet and blazed off.
Rohan yanked his finger blades from the floor, leaving two inch gouges in the pretty planking. He shot an unreadable look after Drio before storming off in the opposite direction.
That left Baruch, Kane, and me standing there. “What was that about?” I asked.
Baruch was Mr. Impassive, which was no great surprise, but based on my short acquaintance with Kane, I was sure he’d give up the goods. Nope. He remained infuriatingly tight-lipped as well, simply saying, “I’ll check on Drio.”
Baruch shook his head when I glanced in the direction Rohan had taken. “Let him cool down,” he said, before following Kane.
I never was any good at doing what I was told.
Chapter 7
I found Rohan in the library, one of those massive floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, book-filled rooms found only in Victorian mansions and Hollywood movies. It even had rolling ladders to reach high shelves, Persian carpets on the floor, and comfortable seating to curl up in. A long wood table with sturdy chairs ran along the bank of windows on the far side of the room.
I sank onto the leather club chair, a match to Rohan’s that was grouped next to a large unlit fireplace, sneaking glances to gauge his mood. Tough to do since he was slumped on the sofa next to me, head bowed.
Neither of us said anything for a good long while.
I sniffed my T-shirt to make sure I didn’t smell too disgusting. Not bad. Casting around for something else to do, I studied the pile of history texts left on the low mahogany coffee table, then got bored and just watched Rohan, waiting for his hands to unclench from the padded arm rest before I spoke.
“Why’d you quit singing?”
His head jerked up. “What?”
“It was around the time when you became Rasha, and maybe touring or being in the band might have been tough, but you could have kept singing. Writing music. You left the biz entirely.”
“Yup,” he replied in a “leave it alone” voice.
I’d only raised the topic trying to forge some kind of connection between us. I’d had my dancing, he’d had his singing, and I’d thought maybe there’d be some common ground we could bond over. After meeting Drio, having Rohan on my side was imperative. But his reticence made me actively curious.
“Was it a vocal chord thing? Did potential permanent damage end it?” In about three seconds, I wove an entire tale of the doors closing on Rohan’s musical dreams, finishing up with him staring up at his doctor with impossibly sad eyes and asking à la Oliver Twist, “Please sir, may I sing another?”
Rohan glared at me.
“All right. Sheesh.” I slouched back against my chair. “I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” I said in a sincere voice. ”I’ll try not to die on your watch.”
“Drio was right. You’re the shiny prize. The demons are going to want bragging rights of killing the first female Rasha. And your head. They’ll want that too.”
“So they re-assigned you boys here to keep it attached to my body. Was this a demotion for you?”
“You’d think so.”
I stopped fidgeting and met his eyes. Unimpressed. “Gee, thanks.”
Rohan nudged my knee with his. “No. Until consensus among the Executive is reached on your status, they want the best around you.”
I tried to ignore my queasiness at what would happen if consensus wasn’t reached in my favor. Also, the tingle running up my leg from his touch.
“I appreciate it.” I hoped I sounded suitably grateful. These guys were right about needing them to keep me safe and help me find my footing, especially if Asmodeus figured out it was me who’d offed his spawn. Much as I wished this would go away, I was a Rasha until death do us part.
“What happens if the Brotherhood decides they don’t want a sister after all?”
Rohan took his sweet time answering. “I think if push came to shove, they’d decommission you.”
My stomach squicked. “Is that a euphemism for ‘bullet to the head?’”
Another long pause. Seriously? I drowned my apprehension in a tidal wave of positive sentiment but my apprehension broke free and bobbed to the surface, shooting me the finger for my efforts.
“Not murder,” he finally said. “You already have too public a profile within the Brotherhood.”
“Knowing I’m only going to stay alive because they might get caught is hardly reassuring.” I grimaced. “What about a timely unfortunate accident? I mean, Rasha die.”
“They’d try to quietly retire you. Alive,” he reassured me.
“Would that be so bad?” I sat up, intrigued. “Hey, could we transfer my powers to Ari?”
Exasperation on his face, Rohan got up.
I grabbed the side of his jeans, his quad muscle tensing under my palm as I pushed him back onto the couch. “Fine. Maybe it doesn’t work that way. But I refuse to believe that simply re-running the ceremony was the final proof that I’m the sole Rasha twin. Ari is still an initiate and I’m going to prove it.”
“Good luck with that.”
“I’ll train hard. In return,” I continued, “you help me petition the Executive on Ari’s behalf.”
“Me? No. Not interested in getting involved.”
Why were all of them so block-headed about helping me with this? “You don’t want to be here. The faster I get up to speed, the faster you get to go home.”
“I have a mission here other than you, you know.”
“Yeah, but if you’re as good as Kane says you are, then I bet you’ll wrap that up soon. Come on, what could it hurt to try? At best, Demon Club gets the Rasha it wanted. At worst, my training schedule is accelerated and you go on your merry way. Deal?” I held out my hand to shake.
“No deal. I wrap up the primary mission, and I’ll be on my merry way regardless. There’s enough other people to watch you.”
I leaned back, arms crossed. “Then let’s negotiate.” I’d spent a lifetime listening to my lawyer father.
“You’ve got nothing of value to offer me,” Rohan said.
“What’s the mission?” What if I could help Rohan complete this mission his way?
“Look, the gig that brought me to Vancouver is…” Rohan rubbed his hand roughly through his hair, sending it into spiky disarray. “I’m getting a lot of pressure to take it in a direction I don’t agree with. Got enough of my own shit to deal with as far as the Executive is concerned. You’re on your own.”
“Now you’ve got me curious. What’s up?”
R
ohan hesitated.
I raised my hands. “If I haven’t earned need-to-know clearance yet, I get it.”
“It’s not that. You’ll freak out.”
I picked up a pen left on top of the book pile and chucked it at him.
He caught it one-handed, studying me a moment, tapping the pen against his thigh.
I tried not to stare, my fingers twitching at the memory of his steely hard muscles. Or replace the pen with my tongue.
“First off, you understand now that you’re bound by all Rasha oaths of secrecy not to discuss what you’ve heard.” He shot me a wry look. “That includes not telling your brother.”
I totally met his eyes when I agreed but he stared me down until I squirmed. “All right, already,” I groused. “I won’t dish.”
“We suspect Samson King is a demon.”
Rohan winced as I smacked his arm.
“No way! He’s a celeb A-lister. I mean, yeah, he’s got that smug rich kid vibe, even though he’s got to be pushing thirty, but I figured someone that famous was just another overcompensating,” I wagged my pinky meaningfully, “asshole celeb.”
Rohan leaned in, his elbows braced on his knees, and a serious expression on his face. “I’m concerned about your fetish for the peen, Lolita. Do we need to have a talk?”
“Curiosity about celebrity genitalia is hardly fetish. It’s practically hardwired into Western society’s DNA.”
“Hence, the race to the bottom,” he muttered.
“Besides, I bet you fifty bucks there’s more than a few sites devoted to your particular width and girth, Mr. Mitra.”
“All of which would be staggeringly wrong.”
The twin desires to both smack the smug off his face and rip off his pants to see for myself should have negated each other and yet, there they were. “Seriously, his stupid reality show Live like a King hits douchebag territory, but a demon?”
Rohan spread his fingers three inches apart. “Our dossier on him is already that thick.” His hand clenched into a fist. “Trouble is, everything is circumstantial. Rumors and speculation. We don’t have the hard proof such as his name or true form that would allow me to sanction the kill.”
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series Page 8
