Hot Demon in the City (Latter Day Demons Book 1)

by Suttle, Connie

  "I got attacked in a restaurant parking lot last night," she sighed. "You should see the other guys."

  "Guys? As in more than one?"

  "Three. And I called the police afterward," she said. "They're in jail. Do you have any aspirin? I've used up all I had already."

  "Were they trying to rob you?" I demanded.

  "Police think they had rape on their minds."

  That's when my vision went red. Red as in I was ready to turn and kill somebody red.

  Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

  "They're in jail?" I asked when I could speak without growling or breathing smoke.

  "Yes. Unless they got out on bail. I didn't check."

  "You didn't know who they were?"

  "Never saw them before in my life."

  "Hurry it up," Mike snapped. "You can talk later."

  Adding Mike to the line of people I wanted to beat into pulp and then make paper, I shut Lexsi's door and climbed into the driver's seat. Half an hour later, we were at a street-level charitable foundation downtown.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  "Here." Kory handed me a small packet of ibuprofen and a bottle of water while I watched Mike record a second interview with the Marine Animal Sanctuary folks. I wanted to tell the marine biologist what had actually bitten his seals, but as I didn't have that particular person/creature's name, I held back.

  Chances are, he wouldn't believe me anyway and Anita might be pissed if I gave her race away.

  "Found an ABC Store close by," Kory said when I turned my good eye on him.

  "Thank you," I mumbled. He took the packet and opened it for me—I took all four tablets and downed them before he could tell me it was too many to take at once.

  It wasn't—not for my kind. I sure didn't want to tell him that; he was being nice today, and I didn't want to mess that up.

  "How much do I owe you?" I asked after drinking half the bottle of water.

  "Nothing. Just—put some ice on that when we get back to the station, all right?"

  "Yeah."

  "I mean it."

  "I do, too."

  A frown marred his features, and I suppose it was then I realized he had a nice mouth. "Stop frowning—you look better when you smile," I said.

  "I suggest that your vision is skewed at the moment."

  "Maybe, but I've seen you with both eyes before."

  "And my heart stops," he placed his right hand over his chest.

  "Difik," I muttered.

  "What did you say?"

  "Nothing. Look—Mike's wrapping up. I have to help Jessie."

  I wanted to tune Mike out on the drive back to the studio, but he needed an audience, so I listened. Nothing new had cropped up on dead seals, although several more had washed up. I figured somebody was killing them for fun; the race in question preferred raw fish in their alternate state, not pinnipeds.

  It made me think that Anita probably loved sashimi.

  "What happened?" Farin demanded as I trailed Mike through the studio.

  "Three guys in the parking lot of a restaurant," I said. "They got hauled to jail last night."

  "I'll get ice," she said and disappeared into the employee break room. After she brought ice wrapped in a clean towel and fresh coffee for me, Farin the weather girl was added to my tentative-but-tiny friends list.

  "I wanted to work in Texas or Oklahoma," she told me as I sipped coffee and tried to keep the ice pack on my eye at the same time. "I'm a weather geek," she added. "Wanted to go where the weather is more volatile, but Mom and Dad live here, so here I am. Dad's the one who got Rick and me interested in weather—Rick's my brother and he's the chief meteorologist for News Eighty-Two."

  "I understand about the family thing," I nodded, then wished I'd kept my head still. The ibuprofen was wearing off already. It made me wish for Uncle Kevis, who was a physician, but I couldn't call any family members or they'd know where I was.

  Better to let the bruises heal on their own, or I could get hauled back home and dragged to a marriage ceremony on Kifirin. That was the reason I was working a job on Earth now—because I didn't want to be married to someone who felt entitled to be my husband.

  "Silver," Vann barked, making me jump. I turned to look—his head was stuck in the break room doorway. "We have another tip—police investigated a bar fight the other night and they're still scratching their heads over what caused it. Haul Mike away from his desk and go check it out."

  My head throbbed as I stood up; Farin handed me a glass of water and her personal bottle of aspirin. I took more than was polite, determined to buy her another bottle to replace what I'd taken.

  I wasn't looking forward to spending the afternoon with Mike, but I didn't have a choice. At least Mike wouldn't press me to have dinner with him afterward.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  I managed to hide the smoke I'd breathed after Mike informed me we were going to Clawdia's. Somebody, somewhere, had leaked information on the bar fight.

  Fuck.

  Watson wasn't scheduled for duty until eight, so he'd be left out of the initial investigation. I worried about Lexsi, though. Didn't give a damn about Mike—he was just as much a slave driver as Vann was. My worry was that whoever was on duty would make note of who'd come to ask questions, and then notify one of the vamps, who'd then attempt to place compulsion.

  Lexsi, unless I missed my guess, wouldn't be fazed by any of that.

  That, in the vamp world, spelled trouble. Maybe she could fend off three human attackers in a parking lot, but vamps?

  That was another story.

  Claudia Platt, who owned Clawdia's, was a werewolf, but she'd been around the block a few times. Had vamp lovers in the past, too, if gossip were to be believed. Nobody spread that around in her bar, though, unless they wanted to be removed and banned from the premises—until the end of time.

  At least Watson and Mason were still holed up in my condo. I didn't think Mason would live long if he went back to his place. I figured Granger had marked him for a takedown.

  The last I heard, Granger's mistress was still in the hospital and still alive, but I didn't think she had long to live once she left. If she had any sense, she'd get the hell out of the states during daylight hours and travel to a foreign country to disappear.

  If we were lucky, Mike wouldn't think the story worth pursuing. Plus, if any regulars saw me driving the nosy reporters around, I could be added to the list of unwelcome customers. I slowed down to round a corner; we were getting closer to Clawdia's and my worry ramped up with every inch we traveled toward it.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  "What the hell caused that?" Mike zoned in on the brick building across the street from Clawdia's—the bar in question. Brick had been knocked off the underlying concrete, and in some places, even the concrete was gouged out, as if someone had repeatedly driven a vehicle into it.

  I'd seen that kind of damage before; it spelled vampires to me. I wasn't about to say that, though. Mike was blissfully unaware of the existence of supernatural creatures. It needed to stay that way, too.

  Kory was slow to get out of the car; Mike was already snapping at Chet to get images of the damaged brick wall.

  "Are you sure that was part of the bar fight?" I asked.

  "Sure as hell is—I read the police report," Mike said. He hadn't bothered to pass that information to the rest of us, so we were following him in the dark.

  "Were they driving their car into the building?" Jessie asked.

  "Nobody would say anything about how that happened," Mike grinned. "That's why we're here—to find out."

  Mike smelled a story; I worried that he was sticking his nose into something he shouldn't. Vamps on Earth weren't happy about being outed on the six o'clock news, and everything I'd seen so far spelled exactly that.

  Of course, he was looking at this from a purely human perspective, because that's all he knew. My headache, as a result, was threatening t
o return. My concern ramped up, too, because I felt we had eyes on us.

  Unfriendly eyes. I wanted to shiver, I felt so uncomfortable.

  Kory also appeared uncomfortable, pacing back and forth as Chet readied his camera and Jessie fussed with the sound equipment.

  Mike was already seeing this as a coup—he wanted to upstage Vann and this was a way to do it. I couldn't imagine anyone not being curious as to how large chunks and gouges had mysteriously appeared in a building across the street, during and after a bar fight.

  * * *

  It was all caught on camera—Mike being tossed out of Clawdia's Bar after attempting to ask the bartender and patrons about the night in question.

  * * *

  The fact that Mike was thrown out of the bar only raised more questions with Vann, who was now determined to get to the bottom of this story. My headache worsened while Mike and I were subjected to Vann's rant—that he was important and if they refused to answer his questions, they'd be sorry, blah, blah, blah.

  It made me wonder, in a less painful moment, whether those who'd attacked Anita and me had anything to do with the bar fight at Clawdia's. Fights were rather prominent lately; I'd been involved in two, after all.

  The rant ended with Vann informing us that a second visit to Clawdia's was planned the following day—with him leading the charge while the rest of us followed as backup.

  * * *

  I wasn't looking forward to driving home in Aunt Bree's TinyCar after my workday ended. I just wanted to be home, in bed, after taking half a bottle of painkiller. I found Kory leaning against the TinyCar and dwarfing it with his height. Arms were crossed over his chest, too, as if he disapproved of everything about me.

  "I hope you're going straight home," he huffed, taking my key fob away and opening the driver's side door.

  "I wish I was there now," I breathed, rubbing my forehead and hoping for the thousandth time that I could get rid of the headache.

  "Call in sick tomorrow," he said as I sat wearily behind the wheel.

  "I can't. Vann has already decreed that we're going back to that bar to demand answers, just like the idiot he is."

  "You're joking?" Kory's hand stopped halfway to mine; he'd intended to give the key fob back.

  "Not kidding. If you don't want to go back there, I wouldn't blame you for calling in sick," I said. "I think he's messing with stuff he shouldn't, because he wants to throw his weight around."

  "That's Vann, full to the hairline with his own self-importance," Kory placed the fob in my hand. "The bar management doesn't have to answer his questions; they've already talked to the police," he added. "Mike had the police report."

  "Yeah," I acknowledged. I was exhausted from fighting the headache and listening to Mike and Vann all day. Closing my eyes and leaning my head on the wheel for a few minutes was more than tempting.

  "Look, you should go home," Kory said. "Get some rest and get rid of that headache. It's hard enough to see you so bruised up as it is. A headache on top of that just makes it worse."

  "Well, you go home and think up your excuse to call in sick tomorrow," I replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed by genuine sympathy from him. "This will be a debacle, no matter how you look at it. Save yourself." I allowed him to close the door before I started the car.

  The drive home was going to be torture.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  I stood there, watching her drive away and cursing myself for not taking her home. She probably had a mild concussion after the attack and had spent the day at work, because Vann and Mike couldn't pick up after themselves without an audience.

  I had to contact Watson, too, to let him know about Vann's intentions. I had no idea what he'd do about it, but he needed the warning. Watson could go to Claudia with the information if he wanted—he was scheduled to work the late shift at the bar tonight.

  Jerking keys from my pocket, I headed for my Jeep. Time to go home and do damage control.

  * * *

  "You look pissed." Watson pulled a beer from my fridge and flipped the top off before handing it to me.

  "I have a message for you, and you can take it to your boss if you want," I said before tipping the bottle back and draining half of it.

  "What message?" Watson went still.

  "Vann Jacobs is set to show up at the bar tomorrow and attempt to force his way in while recording it all for the news." I emptied the bottle and tossed it in the recycle bin before going to the fridge for another. "He wants to get personally involved in this, and you know what kind of trouble that will cause."

  "I'll call Claudia now," Watson had his cell phone in a hand and punching a button almost before I stopped talking.

  "Claudia, this is Watson," he said. "You know Kory Wilson—who works for News Seventy-Four? He says Vann Jacobs plans to show up at the bar tomorrow and record us throwing him out after refusing to answer questions."

  "Son-of-a-bitch," I heard Claudia's voice clearly. "Tell Kory thanks—I know this could jeopardize his job," she added. "Let me think about this and get back to you."

  "Will do," Watson replied. "I'll see you at eight." Watson ended the call before turning to me. "I almost want to ask you to come with me tonight, but that would land you in more hot water if Vann or somebody else shows up early."

  "I hear that," I said before pulling on my second beer. "Still," I said after swallowing, "if something looks like it's about to go down, call me. I doubt they'll recognize the other me—if it's needed."

  "You still haven't told me," he began.

  "Need to know," I held up my free hand. "Need to know only, bro. Need to know."

  "What's going on?" Mason shuffled into the kitchen and walked between Watson and me to pull a unit of blood from the fridge. Watson and I watched as he snipped the top off the bag neatly with a sharp claw before sipping blood like a child would sip juice from a box.

  "I'm glad we're not the squeamish type," Watson pointed out dryly.

  "Hmmph." Mason walked out of the kitchen while flipping both of us off with his free hand.

  "I'll bet he was grumpy after waking when he was human, too," Watson observed.

  "Save your philosophy—it's wasted on both of us," I grinned. "Go—if you leave now, you'll actually be on time for work."

  "Why should I spoil my record?" Watson chuckled. "Look, man, if I need you, or Claudia makes a decision, I'll let you know." He held his cell phone in the air with one hand and flipped me off, just as Mason did, with the other. I laughed as he headed for the door to go to work.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  I should have bought stock in the company making my brand of ibuprofen; I'd gone through enough of it during the day from hell. I lay on the sofa, a cool, wet cloth over my eyes when my cell phone rang.

  It was Farin.

  "Lexsi, I need your help," she begged before I could say anything other than hello. "My brother, Rick, is good friends with Mike—they used to work together at News Eighty-Two. Mike went to that bar again tonight and was thrown out again. He called Rick and now they're both going back down there. I have a bad feeling about this. Will you call Mike and tell him that Vann has an emergency or something, just to get him and Rick out of there?"

  "What the hell are they thinking?" I snapped, sitting up and causing my head to pound from the sudden movement. "Do you know if they're already there?"

  "According to the app on my cell phone, they are. They're just not answering."

  "Fuck," I said. "Look, keep trying to call. If the app shows they've moved, call me. I'll see what I can do from here."

  "Thank you." Farin was crying, now.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I hadn't used my ability to skip in a while. Sending mindspeech to Anita to let her know where I was going, I skipped to Clawdia's Bar.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  "Dude, that guy you drove to the bar is back again, for the second time tonight," Watson reported. "This time, he brought the weat
herman from channel Eighty-Two with him."

  "Then get him out of there," I said.

  "That's not all," Watson hissed. "Some of Granger's vamps just showed up. They overheard the humans asking questions. Now, maybe you don't know much about Granger, but he gets real paranoid when humans start asking about vamp fights. I'm not sure these two will be found alive if they walk out the door."

  I swore in my native language, which left Watson completely baffled and asking for an explanation.

  "I'll be there in a minute," I snapped and ended the call.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  I didn't expect Anita to be waiting outside the bar for me, but she was. I shouldn't be surprised—her kind could fold space.

  "This is a supe bar," she whispered when I appeared.

  Supe—supernatural. I wasn't surprised at all.

  "I'm glad you're here," I straightened my tee and smoothed my hair back. "We may need your mojo to get these guys away from here."

  "I'd be happy to make that suggestion," she nodded. "Let's go get 'em."

  The bouncer at the door knew we weren't human when we walked in—the loud breath he drew was a telling indication. Uncle Sal taught me that years ago—to read the signs. This one was a werewolf; he didn't have a vamp vibe.

  Except for the music, the bar hushed when Anita and I walked in. Everyone started talking again the moment we stood beside Mike and Rick's table, frowning down at them.

  "Who gave you the shiner?" Rick drawled.

  "You know, I like your sister a helluva lot more than you," I snapped. "We have to get you out of here," I added.

  "You'll come," Anita worked her mojo. Both men stood up, which drew the attention of everyone in the bar, including the vamps in the corner.

  How did I know they were vamps?

  They all had full beer glasses in front of them. They weren't even pretending to drink.

  Read the signs.

  "Come on," I grabbed Mike's arm while Anita took Rick's. We have eyes on us, I sent to Anita. Vamps in the corner booth, I added.

  Then let's go out the back way, she suggested. Through the ladies' room.

  Yeah. I think you're right. The vamps had stood the moment it looked as if we were about to haul both human men out of the bar.