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

by Suttle, Connie

"No word, yet. Let me change, first," I sighed. "I just want out of these clothes and shoes. They smell like Princess Hannah."

  "Then make it quick," Kory said. "I saved the roast beef for you."

  "Really? That sounds so good," I said. "I'll hurry."

  * * *

  "Do you want to go with me to Farin's for dinner Friday night?" I almost stuttered while asking the question. I'd waited for a bit of privacy to ask; Kory and I were loading the dishwasher after we finished our sandwiches.

  "You're asking me out?" He went still for a moment.

  "Does that offend you? Look, forget it," I turned away. It had taken a great deal of courage to get the question past my lips. Instead of saying yes or no, he'd questioned my invitation.

  "No. Nothing like that," he said after a moment. "I was just surprised, that's all. Yes. Of course. When do we leave?"

  "You sound like you're ready to go, now." The smile I gave him trembled slightly.

  "I am," he declared. "Look, I usually have to do the asking," he pulled me into a hug. "This is so—refreshing."

  His arms felt welcoming. Safe. Still, a shiver of anticipation went through me.

  Daddy, I want to have sex with a human.

  * * *

  Hannah's interview with Brad Nolen's family on Wednesday went just as I feared it would. She asked inappropriate questions, resulting in tears from his parents. I wanted to punch her for that—they had enough grief of their own without Hannah the Horrible adding to it.

  Chet and Jesse frowned as they recorded the interview; Hannah hinted at times that the parents may have had something to do with their son's disappearance, which was so outrageous and disrespectful I wanted to punch her a second time.

  I worried she'd sit in on the editing session, playing the tears and denials for all they were worth.

  Difik.

  Another thing that showed up alongside the news of the missing bus from Texas was that a Texas death row prison inmate was scheduled to die in two days.

  No surprise—several states still had the death penalty. That news was mostly ignored in favor of the missing busload of volunteer missionaries, which hadn't been found. Authorities and volunteers were still searching for them and their vehicle.

  All of the missing were young men from a state college, who belonged to a religious organization. They spent their summers helping those in need by building or repairing homes in small towns hit by storms and such. The organization was a national charity group and one highly thought of, regardless of your religious convictions or opinions.

  The man on death row, on the other hand, had been convicted of killing at least ten women—in horrific ways. I'd done research just to check. He was a vicious man, known for his perpetual scowl and frequent profanity-laced outbursts. He'd exhausted all his appeals—even with a wealthy family paying the best attorneys they could find to get him off death row.

  Definitely not a candidate for man of the year. Still, I put a short piece together to send to Hannah, in case she wanted to use it as filler. Visions of her doing a one on one with that character and with no guards present were quickly squashed—this man would tear her apart with his hands.

  Good-bye, Loftin Qualls, you won't be missed, I said to myself and sent the e-mail to Hannah.

  * * *

  Hannah's piece on the Nolen family was received with mixed reviews at best; nobody liked the browbeating of Brad's parents and they voiced their complaints all day Thursday.

  Hannah forced me to respond to those complaints. I didn't attempt to defend her, and the words sorry and apologize were emailed many, many times. I doubted the negative response would sway Hannah in her next interview with distraught relatives. It ought to, but it wouldn't.

  It made me wonder if this were part of the obsession Anita spoke about, or whether that part was all Hannah. Either way, her heart was ice and steel with nothing to thaw it, including the tears of frantic loved ones.

  The surprise came just before I was scheduled to go home; one of the young men from the Texas van had wandered into a building in downtown Dallas, disheveled, dirty and confused.

  He was currently at a hospital, but there was no further word on his condition or whether he knew where the others in his group were. I went to Hannah and gave her the information I had, plus a phone number for our contact at a Dallas affiliate.

  "This is everything?" Hannah waved the thumb drive at me.

  "So far. I've asked for updates when they come in; someone at the Dallas station will send whatever they get," I said.

  "Then I expect you to take the calls," she snapped. "Get anything new to me before eleven."

  "Of course."

  That meant taking my work phone and laptop home, but it could be done. Other assistants did it all the time. I also coordinated with the overnight and early-morning crew, calling Dan Logan first and sending the collected information links to his email address.

  "I'll let you know what Hannah has for the late broadcast," I told him.

  "I can coordinate with Jim and the night crew," Dan said. "You think Lee will let me fly to Dallas?"

  "You ought to ask. Hannah wasn't interested in making the trip."

  "Sounds like a plan," he said. "I'll let you know what Lee says."

  "Thanks, Dan. This case is just too weird," I added. "Something bothers me about all of it."

  "Yeah, it makes no sense," he agreed.

  * * *

  "Bringing work home?" Anita asked when I made my way into the kitchen, loaded down with my laptop case, purse and jacket.

  "Yeah. They found one of the men from that church van in Texas—in Dallas, of all places. I was worried they'd find bodies across the border or something. They were in Brownsville, the last anybody heard from them."

  "That's more than five hundred miles away," Anita frowned. "Have they questioned him about the others?"

  "The last I heard, he was confused and disoriented, in addition to being filthy. That means we have nothing new on the others."

  "And nothing new on the ten migrant workers still missing?"

  "Not a word. You know what I find fascinating?" I asked.

  "What's that?"

  "That all the missing are men in their twenties and in good health. There were three kids and several women in their twenties on the migrant worker bus, along with several older men. None of them survived."

  "All of them citizens of Mexico?"

  "That's in the police records," I nodded. "All here legally, so there's no reason for them to run, especially since some of them left friends and relatives behind on that bus."

  "I think I was followed on my way home from work," Anita announced. "I'm worried that whoever is behind the attacks in the restaurant parking lot is getting interested again."

  "They know you're here?" I whispered.

  "I think I lost them at the foot of the hill," she shrugged. "I didn't see them after the last stoplight before turning up our street."

  "When did you check on your place last?" I asked.

  "Two days ago. You think I ought to check again?"

  "Yeah. I don't trust them or whoever sent them."

  "I think the Romes have gotten a whiff of what I'm after," she said after a few moments. "They're not firing me because they want to get me out of the way, and keeping me employed is the best way to keep me in their sights."

  "You're not making me feel any better about this," I moaned. "You told me to quit. Why aren't you taking your own advice?"

  "Because I like to see my enemy coming," she said. "I can take care of myself most of the time."

  "Yeah, but they have Granger on their side," I warned.

  "Hmmph."

  "Come on, let's go to your place, then we can stop at the deli and pick up soup and sandwiches. I'm too pooped to cook tonight."

  "I hear that. Come on, we'll visit the rooftop across the street first, in case they're waiting for us to walk inside the building."

  "Sounds great," I grumbled. Stuffing my work pho
ne in a pocket, I nodded for Anita to take my arm and fold space.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  At least Watson was cleaner Thursday evening when he climbed into my Jeep. "Ordered and loaded booze all day long," he said, leaning his head against the headrest and closing his eyes.

  "You don't sound happy," I said. "You look better, though."

  "The half wolf bartenders shoved their human tails in my face all afternoon," Watson sighed. "Both of 'em not worth a butt sniff," he added.

  "TMI," I said. "Honestly, butt sniffing is over the top."

  "Only for non-werewolves," he responded, weariness in his voice. "I'm losing part of my income by not collecting tips at the bar."

  "Then go work for somebody else, man."

  "Can't. Can't explain it, either. Sorry. Mason said he followed some of Granger's vamps last night," Watson volunteered—probably to get me off the subject of his finding other work.

  Mason took Watson to work every morning before sunrise. I picked him up before sundown. So far, it had worked fairly well. "What were Granger's vamps doing?" I asked. "How did he manage to tail them and not get caught?"

  "From overhead, or so he says," Watson opened his eyes. "They were sniffing around the gym not far from your condo."

  "Fuckers," I muttered.

  "I wouldn't go back there if I were you," Watson closed his eyes again. "Compulsion to report you wouldn't turn out pretty."

  "So they all know what I look like, then? When I'm human?"

  "I guess they do," Watson gruffed. "It was only a matter of time, man. Granger's seen you like this," he jerked his chin in my direction. "Others have seen—whatever it is."

  "What happened to witnesses being more afraid of me?" I demanded.

  "If your life's on the line when they ask questions," he didn't finish.

  "Right. You know if they take me down, you'll have to find another ride home. Hell, you'll probably need another place to stay, too."

  "Huh?" He sat up straight and turned his now-wide gaze on me.

  "You think Lexsi will let you stay if you get me killed and place her in danger at the same time? Mason won't like it either, because he'll be next."

  "Are you trying to make me feel worse than I do already? If so, mission accomplished," Watson snapped.

  We didn't talk the rest of the way home. When we got there, Lexsi and Anita were gone.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  We should have been more careful. Since the building still stood and nothing seemed amiss, Anita and I assumed it hadn't been touched, her part of it included.

  How wrong we were.

  After a few moments on the roof of a building across the street, when nothing happened out of the ordinary, Anita folded us into her apartment. There, everything was fine—nothing out of place, just as she'd left it.

  I watched as Anita ambled toward the front door to get the mail dropped through the slot. It was junk mail—I knew that. She received her regular correspondence at a post office box.

  I barely had time to glance upward; a transom window topped the doorframe. I almost saw the red glint too late. I can't begin to describe the fear and fury that overwhelmed me; Anita's enemies wanted her dead.

  "No," I shouted at her as she bent to lift the cards and envelopes from the floor.

  It would be more than difficult for me to describe what happened next, because in my memory, it's merely a blur.

  I can only say that I came back to myself on the roof of the building across the street, Anita held tightly in my arms and covered from the fire and explosion by my Thifilatha's wings.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  "What the fuck happened?" I shouted as Lexsi, wearing Anita's raincoat and nothing else, pulled a stunned Anita toward her bedroom.

  "Kory, no," she moaned. "Anita almost got killed. Not now, okay?"

  "What?" Watson, who'd been drinking shots of Crown at the kitchen island, almost leapt from his barstool.

  "Somebody booby trapped her apartment," Lexsi said. "She needs to lie down, she's shaking."

  It didn't get past me that Lexsi was shaking, too.

  "I'll help," Watson slid to Anita's side. Instead of putting an arm around her, he lifted her in his arms and almost ran toward her bedroom.

  "Lexsi? Baby? Are you all right?" I asked.

  "Everything is terrible," she whispered. "Really, really terrible." Blue eyes closed as she slumped in my arms.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  Anita escaped burns and extreme harm, but even my Thifilatha couldn't protect her completely from the blast waves. She had multiple bruises on her back and right thigh.

  I had a Thifilatha.

  Only my mother and my great aunt had ever shown that ability. I had six older sisters. It had never manifested in any of them.

  I didn't know whether to feel proud or terrified.

  I was terrified anyway; the moment my Thifilatha manifested, I'd destroyed my clothing and my work phone.

  That meant calling the station, telling them the lie that I'd lost it and asking for a replacement. Hannah would be furious if I failed to send her updated information as promised.

  Kory almost refused to drive me back to the station after I fainted. At least Watson had appointed himself as Anita's nurse and fussed over her while she attempted to push him away.

  Kory wanted to shout at me for going to Anita's apartment. He didn't shout. His words were slow and measured as he explained something I already knew—that Anita and I were lucky to be alive.

  We didn't tell him how we escaped the explosion, only that I saw the red light and grabbed Anita away from the door. He still thought we'd been outside the apartment and somehow, my clothing hadn't survived, along with my work phone. Hence, the emergency drive to the station for a replacement.

  At least I hadn't received any frantic emails from anyone on the laptop, which had been safe at home.

  After a while, Kory settled for a deep frown and stopped lecturing. All I could do was hang my head and look guilty, because I was. I'd suggested we check on Anita's apartment, and we'd set off the subsequent explosion.

  Kory never said it, but he was terrified. Perhaps he really did care for me and wasn't just looking for sex, like most human men. I'd gotten a scolding as a result. I wanted to tell him I was sorry and that I hadn't expected a planted bomb, but that would only open the lecture floodgate again.

  I was scared enough and felt guilty enough already. At that moment, I wanted to be a storybook hero—one who took all the terrifying things in stride and handled near-death experiences with cool confidence.

  Instead, I hugged myself while sitting on Kory's passenger seat as he silently fumed beside me.

  * * *

  "We've turned the other one off already," the night producer handed me a replacement phone. "Try not to lose this one, okay?"

  "I promise," I nodded. "I'm so sorry I lost my phone."

  "Don't worry about it—Vann lost phones all the time," the man waved his hand. "With everything that's happening, I think we're all somewhat scattered."

  "Thank you," I breathed and held back from giving him a hug.

  I checked messages the second I left the building. Hannah hadn't left me anything and I was grateful for that. About halfway home, however, we picked up a tail.

  Kory saw it first and pointed it out. I shivered as I watched the vehicle's headlights in the passenger side mirror. I also saw Kory's face settle into a grim mask. We took unnecessary turns. The vehicle always stayed behind.

  "Wouldn't vampires or werewolves leave their headlights off?" I whispered as Kory steered his Jeep through another false turn.

  "You'd think so, but they may be attempting to throw us off," he replied. "Or it could be humans," he added.

  I made myself smaller in my seat—I wasn't human. How did I tell him that? After turning Thifilatha, I was even farther from human than I'd been four hours earlier.

  "We may need to stop at a ba
r or restaurant," Kory said after a while. "We can't keep driving all night."

  "You think they'll come in after us?"

  "If they do, they'd better be ready for the consequences," he muttered.

  "Yeah." I wanted to shiver again, and wondered if my Thifilatha would respond if I wanted it to. The last time had been purely by accident.

  "Have you had anything to eat, tonight?" he asked.

  "No, there wasn't time and I'm really not hungry," I began.

  "Then we'll stop at the all-night diner near the highway," he said and made a turn to go in that direction. "If people are around us, maybe it'll keep them from causing trouble."

  Ten minutes later, we pulled into the small parking lot of a twenty-four-hour restaurant. My feet crunched on gravel scattered across a dimly-lit, unswept stretch of concrete.

  At that moment, the restaurant's front door, with a flashing Open sign in the adjacent window, felt like a safe haven.

  I hoped it continued to feel that way.

  Kory opened the door for me, just as our tail pulled into the parking lot. I barely got a glimpse of a dark SUV before Kory shoved me through the restaurant's door. I blinked; the fluorescent lights overhead nearly blinded me as we walked to the tiny hostess stand to request a table.

  We were led to a table against a window, where we sat while the hostess handed us menus and asked if we wanted coffee or something else to drink.

  "We're with them," two men walked up just as the waitress turned to go.

  I gaped—these didn't look dangerous, but what did I know? One of the men, of medium height with light-brown hair and copper eyes, grinned and took a seat across from me. His companion, a taller man with dark hair and darker eyes, sat across from Kory.

  "I'm Davis Stone, Jr., from the Salt Lake City Pack," he introduced himself and produced a badge. "This is Thomas Williams the Third, from the Sacramento Pack. We need to speak with you concerning official business."

  Chapter 10

  Lexsi

  These two werewolves, employees of the Joint NSA/Homeland Security Department, knew Kory and I worked for the Romes. They knew a lot of other things, too, one of which was that Kory, for some reason, was wanted by the supernatural underground. I had no idea why, but I was determined to ask him about it later.