City of Demons

by Debbie Cassidy

I tapped my fingers on the kitchen table. “I don’t know. It feels kinda indulgent.”

  “Since when do you stop living while on a case?” Trevor asked. “You can’t do anything while razor mouth is unconscious. You may as well go out and let your hair down.”

  He was right. There was no reason to mope about here. “Fine. I’ll go, but if he wakes up, you call me.”

  “Of course,” Gilbert said. A cup of tea materialized before me. “Now drink your tea and then go do something with your hair.”

  I reached up to touch my head. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “The question should be what’s right with it,” Trevor said. “You do realize you haven’t brushed it since before you left for the club last night, right?”

  Oh, fuck. The small mirror hanging on the wall next to my dustkicker poster showed a head of hair that would do a wild banshee justice, and I’d dealt with Tay and Valance looking like this.

  “Gilbert, I think I’m going to need some biscuits with my tea.”

  Northside, with its tall glass buildings, sparkling-clean streets, and massive holo boards, made my head ache. The taxi ride there had been almost painful, with the sullen driver uttering barely two words to me. South and Eastside drivers were so much friendlier. This guy looked like he’d gotten a rolling pin stuck up his arse, but if I was going to be drinking then there’d be no driving tonight.

  The air was saturated with magic, the aroma cloying and suffocating. This was the domain of the Arcana, the true magic wielders, and only the highbrow and affluent were welcome. Damn, I felt like a fraud, even in my slinkiest maxi dress and most expensive heels, and the receptionist’s nose had turned up as if she’d just gotten a whiff of l’eau de shit.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t see you on the list,” she said for the third time.

  The urge to just grab the clipboard off her and find my name myself was a throb in my temples.

  Instead, I increased the wattage on my faux smile. “Wilomena Bastion. Please, look again. My close friend Eloise Grand said she’d leave my invite at reception.”

  A murmur rose up behind me where a queue was building, and the heat of several pairs of eyes seared my back. Any other place and I’d have given them the finger, but this was Eloise and Fran’s world, and my best behavior was essential.

  The gatekeeper to the grand ballroom beyond sighed heavily, her face scrunching up as if I’d asked her to perform heart surgery in a fucking tutu. She gave the list another cursory glance and then placed it resolutely back on the desk.

  “Sorry,” she said with finality.

  “Is there a problem here?” The tone was imperious and very familiar.

  The receptionist lit up so bright you’d think someone had shoved a string of Christmas lights up her arse. “Mr. Noir, how nice to see you. No. There’s no problem.”

  Noir’s suit-clad shoulder brushed my arm, his fresh, zesty cologne coaxed a flutter in my chest. “Is there a problem, Miss Bastion?” he asked me.

  The receptionist blinked rapidly, looking from Noir to me. You could almost see the cogs whirring to life in her crafty head and coming to the conclusion that if Noir knew me then I must belong here.

  “Just an error somewhere,” she said breezily. “Miss Bastion’s invite seems to have gone awry.”

  Noir smiled graciously. “These things happen, of course. I’ll take her off your hands.”

  He winked conspiratorially at the receptionist, whose cheeks bloomed pretty pink, then offered me the crook of his arm and led me toward the double doors marking the entrance to the elaborate marbled ballroom.

  I slid him an arch look. “Do you have that effect on all women?”

  He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “Obviously not. Some females are sadly immune to my charms.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that. Otherwise you’d have to hire me to beat them off you with a club.”

  Heads swiveled to take us in, and people leaned in to whisper to each other.

  “I think we’re causing quite a stir,” Noir said.

  “I’m not sure my being on your arm is going to do your reputation any favors.”

  “The beauty of being a Noir is that you can do what the fuck you like and no one can say a damned thing.” There was no arrogance in the statement.

  “Aside from sire a child outside of the institution,” I quipped.

  His jaw tightened.

  “I’m sorry. My mouth doesn’t always heed my brain’s warnings.”

  “No. It’s fine. You’re correct, of course. There are limits. But this is not one of them.” He led us to an empty table. “I see your name, Miss Bastion.”

  Sure enough, there was a place card on the table with my name clearly printed. Fucking receptionist.

  His gaze caressed my face. “I’m sure your friends will be along shortly. I’d stay and keep you company but—”

  “Adam,” a slightly shrill, panicked voice said. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  Noir closed his eyes for a beat too long, and then his lips curved in a warm smile, and he turned to the woman who was glaring daggers at me.

  The lethal expression dropped as soon as Noir’s attention was on her, and she simpered prettily. “Vanessa said she saw you come in with ... someone.” She glanced across at me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  “This is Wilomena Bastion, of Bastion Investigations, a most worthy organization.”

  The woman’s mouth made an ‘o’. “An investigator with The Collective?”

  “No.” I gave her a tight smile. “I’m totally freelance.” I shifted closer to Noir. “Totally my own woman, aren’t I, Adam?” I tilted my head to look up at him with a soft, intimate smile.

  Noir’s body tensed as mine brushed up against him, and the woman blanched. Yeah, it was evil to goad her this way. There was nothing between Noir and me, but it was worth it to see the flutter of panic on her face, and there was no way I’d let her get away with looking down her nose at me.

  Noir cleared his throat and patted my hand. “It has been lovely, Miss Bastion, but I must get to my table.”

  I nodded and scrunched up my nose in a conspiratorial way. “Of course. I’ll see you later.”

  Noir released me and leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Uncalled for, Miss Bastion. Totally uncalled for.” But there was humor in his tone and then he was gone, swept away across the room by a date eager to get my hooks out of him and hers firmly in.

  A hand grabbed my elbow. “What the heck, Wila?” Eloise whisper-shrieked. “You know Adam Noir?”

  Fran was staring after Noir’s imposing frame as he walked a head above the rest across the room.

  “Man, what I wouldn’t give to take a bite out of that peach,” she said.

  “How?” Eloise asked me.

  I waved a hand. “You know what it’s like in my line of work. You come across people.”

  “Not like Noir. You know that he’s heir to the Noir seat on the Arcana Institute board, right?” Fran asked.

  “Yeah. I know. He’s a bigwig.”

  “He’s also Collective Elder material.” Fran arched a brow. “If you know what I mean.”

  Okay, now that was news to me. The Collective was a faction of the Arcana Institute created by the magic wielders to bring together all neph with the gene to travel between pockets. But they weren’t just any Arcana, they were dark Arcana users, able to harness the most sinister of power. It was what allowed them to identify the neph able to make the journey, and Noir was one of them.

  “His older brother Ethan was offered a position as an Elder,” Fran said. “He decided he wanted to be out in the field instead.”

  Adam Noir had a brother. “So Ethan would be the heir, not Adam?”

  “Nope, Ethan renounced his claim to the Institute chair. There was some scandal but I have no idea what happened,” Fran said.

  “How is working with The Collective going? When do you get to trave
l?”

  Fran sighed. “The Potentials were meant to be having our first run this week, but it’s been put off. A memo circulated this morning. There’s some stuff going on higher up in the ranks and rumors of an elite task force being summoned to Arcana. Collective members from other Arcana branches will be arriving in the next week or so.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No idea.” Fran grinned at me. “But you could come work for us, and maybe we could find out together.”

  “I thought we agreed no recruitment.”

  Fran gave me a sheepish grin. “But we’d have so much fun.”

  “And I’d have to wear those awful uniforms made of that awful material.”

  “You mean the material called not leather?” Fran teased.

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  Eloise chuckled. “I’d happily redesign The Collective attire if the battle axe paid me to.”

  “Speaking of the battle axe, look who just glided in,” Fran said, her eyes on the door.

  Ah, Loraine Vincent, Head of Collective Operations. The Elders that sat on the board may make the decisions, but Loraine was the one who executed them. The woman was cold. I’d looked into her eyes and seen icescapes, seriously.

  “And look whose arm she’s on?” Eloise pointed out.

  The man was tall, dark-haired, with winged eyebrows and a face that rang a distant bell. “Who is that?”

  Eloise shot me an are you kidding me look. “Only the man in charge of the Kelter empire.”

  “Ah, shit, yeah, Nathaniel Kelter.” I’d seen his chiseled face on enough holo boards to know who he was. He looked different in the flesh, though, less shiny. “Well, this truly is rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, isn’t it?”

  “Wait, look ...” Fran nudged me, jerking her head toward the entrance again.

  Five neph walked in, pale, dark-eyed, and slender. They looked as if they were carved from marble and probably felt as cold as stone. These were the Sanguinata, a dying breed holding out only by the mercy of The Collective. The bloodsuckers fed on human blood, but after the prison realm encroached on our world and everything went to shit, the humans were expelled from our pocket and the Sanguinata were left without a food source. Desperate and hungry, they’d fed on nephs. The blood had driven them insane, and many had been slaughtered. Only the ancient had withstood the hunger and survived long enough for The Collective to form. It was through The Collective they got their human blood, from the neph able to travel into mundane pockets to collect it. If not for The Collective, the Sanguinata would be extinct. And here they were, doing their bit for charity, using their wealth to stay alive, to stay on the Northside.

  There may have been a time they’d been feared, but not anymore.

  “Enough goggling at people,” Eloise said. “We’re here to have fun.” She summoned a tray bearer with a flick of her wrist, and we all grabbed glasses of champagne. “To forever friendship.” Eloise raised her glass.

  “Forever friendship,” Fran and I echoed.

  We drained the flutes and grabbed seconds.

  The world was beginning to feel pleasantly soft around the edges when my mobile vibrated in my clutch bag.

  “No.” Eloise made a grab for my bag, but she was no match for my reflexes.

  The phone was in my hand and then against my ear before she had time to blink. “Hey?”

  “Wila! Help!” Trevor’s voice was a strangled plea, and then the line went dead.

  I stared at the phone for a long beat and then I was flying across the room, feet barely touching the ground, dress gathered up like fucking Cinderella leaving the ball to avoid getting turned into a pumpkin.

  “Wila!” Fran called after me, but there was no time to stop, no time to explain that my friends were in danger, that my gut was in knots, that I should never have left them alone to come out tonight.

  The receptionist looked up, startled, as I ran past, but then the night closed in around me and my feet faltered. Mini wasn’t here. I’d opted to take a taxi. Shit!

  I needed to call a taxi. No time. What was I going to do?

  “Miss Bastion? Are you all right?”

  Zesty scent cleared my head, and I turned to Noir and grabbed his lapels. “You need to get me home right now.”

  He blinked down at me, his baby blues darkening in response to the urgency in my voice, and then he stepped back and took my hand. “Don’t let go.”

  “Adam?” His date appeared at the top of the stone steps leading into the building.

  Noir paused and looked up. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I have to leave. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  His grip on my hand tightened and the world shattered into a million pieces.

  16

  The world coalesced in a rush, leaving me breathless and clinging to Noir. His arms were the only thing holding me up. My knees trembled, thighs quivering, reminding me of the aftermath of a particularly good orgasm.

  “Are you all right?” Noir asked into my hair.

  “Fine. I just need …” My hands found the hard planes of his chest and pushed. Yeah, I was standing on my own steam. The hows and what the hecks of how we’d just done that would have to be addressed later.

  My knees held as I climbed the short flight of steps up to my home with Noir close behind, probably ready to catch me if I lost my balance. The door swung open with a brush of my fingers and the wrongness hit me in the face. Several foreign signatures registered, but they were echoes.

  “Wila ... Oh, Wila ...” Gilbert’s mournful voice was distant, weak, but he was here. But Trevor? Where were Trev and Azren ...

  Heat flared in my chest and up into my throat. My legs pumped as I scaled the steps to the fourth floor.

  Instinct. Primal awareness. How else could I have known ... and there was Trevor, lying in a pool of his own blood. His eyes closed, his mouth coated in crimson. My body froze, hand on the door jamb, heart beating so hard it threatened to fracture my ribcage.

  “Oh, shit.” Noir pushed past me into the room and fell to his knees beside my canine companion. But my legs were locked, unable to move as my gaze swept the room, taking in the carnage: the torn mattress, broken bed, and blood, so much blood. Azren was gone and Trevor was—

  “Alive,” Noir said. “He’s alive, but barely. He’s lost a lot of blood.” He scooped Trevor up and headed back toward me. “We need to patch him up. Where can I work on him?”

  Alive, he was alive. “The lounge. Out here.”

  Noir placed Trevor carefully on the sofa in Azren’s lounge. Azren ... where was he?

  Noir’s eyes were closed, his hand hovering over the gash in Trevor’s side. The blood began to congeal and the wound began to knit. Noir fell back onto his haunches, his brow beaded with perspiration. “He’ll be okay. The wound wasn’t deep enough to damage any vital organs.”

  Oh, God. “Trev.” I ran a hand over his head, not caring how much he hated being petted, wanting only to hear his voice. “Trev, please wake up.”

  “He’ll need to rest,” Noir said.

  “Azren is gone.”

  “The Shedim?”

  I began to pace. “He was hurt, too hurt to fight back, and they’ve taken him.”

  “Who?”

  “The Shedim.”

  “The rebels? You found them?” His eyes grew wide.

  “We came up against a couple. One got away but Azren managed to capture one in his ... wait.” I ran back into Azren’s room, but the dagger was gone.

  “Wila, what kind of trouble are you in?” Noir stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the carnage.

  I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. I knew they’d be warned we were on to them, but I didn’t expect them to come after us, to come after Azren.” My heart sank. “I have to go. I need to get him back.”

  Noir snagged my elbow as I made to push past him. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “Into the Underground. Long story, but I know they’ve taken him there
.”

  “If that’s the case, you can’t go alone. We need to inform The Collective.”

  “We can’t do that, remember? You said so yourself, if they find out about Azren and Elora’s contract then I’m dead. They’ll kill me to protect Arcana City from Elora’s Shedim.”

  He exhaled through his nostrils. “In that case, I’m coming with you.”

  Yes, please. Dammit, no. There was no way I could ask him to risk his life. This was my case, my problem. “This isn’t your fight.”

  He gave me an incredulous look. “Rogue Shedim in my city are most certainly my fight. I’m coming and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  Relief flooded me, because, heck, who wouldn’t want backup going into an underground den? “Thank you.”

  Trevor’s breathing had evened out, and I gently laid a blanket over him. “Gilbert? Gilbert, are you there?”

  Silence greeted me and my chest tightened. Had he slipped away. If he’d fought back, then he’d be seriously tapped out. He just needed time to reenergize. “I know you can hear me. I’ll be back soon. Stay with Trevor.” A chill shot up my spine, a warning. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

  The chill abated slightly. “We need to get to Southside. We need to check the entrances to the Underground. I think there are four we can try.”

  “And what makes you think we’ll get access via any of those?”

  “Because Arcana Institute always skimps when it comes to Southside and you know it. They used concrete and bricks to seal off the entrances in North and East, but I bet they cut corners for South.”

  He sighed. “You’re probably right.” He tucked in his chin. “I’m afraid we’ll have to travel the old-fashioned way this time, though. I need a little time to recover.”

  “We can take my car.” I made for the stairs.

  “Um, Miss Bastion?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe you’d like to change first?”

  I glanced down at my fancy dress. “I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.”

  Noir winced and then extricated himself from the vehicle. His body wasn’t built for such a confined space. He cracked his neck and stretched his legs as we stared at our last stop—a blacked out, circular Underground symbol and a flight of steps leading into darkness. They hadn’t even bothered to block off the steps this time. The other three stations, although shoddily sealed, had shown no signs of breaches. The entrances had been boarded up with metal sheets and bolts. Unless they’d sealed up this entrance at the bottom of the steps, then we were on to a winner.