Yagi’s eyebrow quirked. “You’ve decided how to… handle that particular problem?” he asked mildly, as if he weren’t referring to murder. “And are you taking my advice?”
“Again, not exactly.” Thomas paused a beat. “I’ve decided Kate would be a good executive assistant. So I’m going to offer her that job.”
They both stared at him for a long second. Then they both exploded.
“I strongly advise against this—” Yagi started, only to have Maggie interrupt him.
“You’ve told me a million times that you don’t need a secretary. That you don’t want a secretary,” she accused. “I could have filled that position years ago! What makes her special?”
“We still don’t know why she’s able to work with the contracts without being affected,” Yagi said more loudly, leaning forward in his chair. “For all we know, she’s working for Cyril.”
“I can’t believe you’re even considering her,” Maggie snapped.
Thomas ignored the headache that was beating at his brain like a baseball bat. “Hear me out,” he said, cutting across their increasingly loud complaints. “Maggie, you’ve been like a sister to me, but let’s be honest—I think that the demands of being a, ah, dedicated executive assistant might be too much for you.”
He’d tried to come up with as gentle a wording as he could, but she still flinched. Mostly at the “sister” part.
“I think Kate could handle this. And it’s not like she’d be doing everything—she’d oversee my administrative needs, that’s all.”
“So she’d be… my boss?” Maggie spat out, obviously appalled.
Thomas sighed. “Don’t worry. You’ll still keep doing what it is you’re currently doing.” Like getting paid to play Angry Birds on that damned iPhone of hers. Lord knows the projects she’d taken on rarely seemed to get anywhere. “Now, Yagi—”
‘“Oversee your administrative needs, my ass,” Maggie said darkly, her eyes narrowed to a suspicious squint. “I think we can all guess exactly what needs she’s going to be servicing.”
That stopped Thomas cold. Even Yagi’s normally impassive expression showed some mild surprise, and he sent her a quick, amused look.
Thomas stood, leaning his hands on his desk so he wouldn’t wrap them around her throat. “I beg your pardon?”
Maggie’s cheeks were blotchy, red with anger. “I saw you kissing her, remember? You can pretend you’re being Mr. Corporate and this is a ‘logical decision,’ but I’ll just say it—you’re hiring with your dick on this one, and you’re not fooling anyone. You’re hiring her because you want to fuck her.” Now Yagi turned to stare at Thomas with disgust, and Thomas winced.
“Maggie, a few things,” he said, his voice arctic. “First, who I fuck is absolutely none of your business.”
Her chin went up, and she flinched.
“Second,” he said, “I’m not going to deny that I’m attracted to Kate. And yes, I did kiss her. But that’s as far as it went, and we both agreed it was a bad idea.”
Sort of. He knew it logically, anyway. He’d just put a pin in that for the time being.
“Third, I’m not making her my mistress. I’m making her my executive assistant. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, really?” Her voice was like acid. “Because I seem to remember you fucking your last secretary. I’m starting to think it’s in the job description.”
Now Thomas’s hands balled into fists, and his Southern drawl pushed to the fore, drawing out like a razor. “Is that why you’ve been so eager to apply?”
Yagi stared at both of them. The normally unflappable Asian squirmed with obvious discomfort.
Thomas ignored him, taking a deep breath and focusing completely on Maggie. “I don’t know if you’re more pissed that I kissed Kate or that I won’t touch you. Either way, it’s irrelevant. I think you’re under the mistaken impression that I called you here to ask for your permission to hire Kate. I’m letting you know—I’m hiring her. If that’s a problem, nobody’s saying you have to stay employed here. If you want to quit, the door’s back there.” He paused a beat. “I loved your sister. But I don’t owe you the job, Maggie. I don’t owe you a damned thing. Think very carefully about that the next time you decide to tear a strip off of me.”
Maggie went ghost white.
She took a few deep breaths, then slow, fat tears started coursing down her cheeks. She sniffled loudly, looking at him like he’d slapped her.
“So are you quitting, or are you staying?”
She swallowed hard. “Staying,” she whispered.
He felt like shit, but it had to be done. He pushed it aside, turning his attention to Yagi.
“I imagine you’re not asking my permission, either,” Yagi said. “Am I given the option to quit, as well?”
Thomas grimaced. Unlike Maggie, he actually needed Yagi. “I’m asking your opinion,” Thomas clarified.
Yagi was shaking his head slowly. “I hate to say it, but Maggie’s reference to Elizabeth does bring up a point. You have… shall we say, a track record.”
Thomas gritted his teeth so hard he could hear the grinding of his molars. Still, he couldn’t really deny it.
“I’ll admit, I fell in love with Elizabeth when she was still my secretary.” He paused for a minute, remembering. Elizabeth had been everything he wasn’t—composed, collected, the epitome of Southern grace and charm. She’d been his biggest cheerleader, the one who believed in him. Her connections had made it possible for him to make a lot of his early deals. Once the money rolled in, he’d been able to handle it on his own, but she’d still been there, the woman behind the man. “But I think it’s safe to say that Kate is nothing like her.”
Yagi’s face was back to its usually impassive mask, although Thomas sensed the guy would’ve rolled his eyes if he weren’t so disciplined.
“I may have a burning desire for vengeance against Cyril. Or, I don’t know, buried unanswered whatever about Elizabeth. But in the meantime… filing, now, filing doesn’t give a shit what my emotional agenda is. Neither does correspondence, or answering phone calls, or meeting scheduling.” He let out an exasperated huff. “Damn it, I’m tired of going through temps just to make sure the wheels stay on the bus. With everything I’ve got going on, in the corporations, with the Cyril thing, I’m juggling a lot. Dropping a lot. I need a pro.”
“And of course, with your money and resources,” Yagi observed dryly, “Kate is the only one you could possibly hire.”
“Kate’s resourceful and unbelievably competent.”
The fact that she puts a little giddy-up in your step has absolutely nothing to do with it.
As if Yagi read his mind, he glared at Thomas. “But we haven’t addressed the real problem of Kate O’Hara. Demon script doesn’t tempt her, but she’s unsigned. The demons themselves aren’t able to influence her mind, even if they are physically able to overpower her… and she’s able to have conversations with them that don’t end in her becoming a meal.”
“That could be handy, don’t you think?” Thomas pointed out.
“That could be dangerous,” Yagi corrected. “At least tell me you’ll have Kate sign a contract.”
Thomas thought of the employment contract he’d had her sign, to ensure the demons in the basement didn’t try to eat her. “She already did.”
Yagi’s right eyebrow went up. “In blood?”
“No.” Thomas’s voice lashed out like a whip. “Absolutely not.”
“If you’re going to insist that the girl work for you, there’s only one way to ensure her loyalty,” Yagi said. “Sign her soul.”
“And then what? Be like Cyril? Start my own supernatural Ponzi scheme?”
“She’ll get it back when you get yours back.”
“No,” Thomas said. “I’m not risking anybody else’s soul. That’s final.”
“You’d be stronger. You’re going to need all the strength you can get.”
“You don’t even know how str
ong her soul is.”
Yagi’s eyebrow went up. “If she can ignore demon script,” he pointed out, “she’s no weakling.”
He had a point there. Thomas mulled it over. “How about we word her employment contract the same way we worded the demons’ contracts? Put in supernatural language that prevents her from acting against me or my interests, without locking in her soul?”
Yagi rubbed his jaw. “It won’t be as effective. Demons brought to this plane are physically incapable of breaking the terms of their contract—that’s why loopholes are so dangerous. Humans don’t have the same restraints.”
“You’re the mystic. I’m sure you can add something.”
Yagi was scowling and cursing, but he nodded. “I still say she’s dangerous—but I just work for you,” he said sourly. “You don’t have to take my advice. If you die, I still get paid.”
“Your concern is touching,” Thomas said, nodding as Yagi stalked out the door.
Maggie was still sitting in the chair. Her makeup was wrecked with tears, and she was looking at him with a mixture of anger, betrayal, and shock. She sniffled loudly again, in case he missed it the first time.
He exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, Mags. It’s my fault for letting you go on this long. You’re a good kid,” and he nearly choked on that one, “but you’re just not cut out for this job.”
She bit her lip. Then she let out a sob like a baby, getting up and throwing herself into his arms.
He caught her reflexively, then grimaced as she rubbed her face—and makeup—against his suit.
“So—you’re not going to sleep with her?” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, even as his body twitched at the thought. “This is business, Mags. Not personal.”
She pulled back. “Promise?”
He started to speak, then found himself tripping on the words. Her eyes narrowed.
“I knew it,” she said, and she stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
He looked down at his makeup-stained suit, then went back to his private washroom and grabbed a change of clothes from the closet there.
Promise not to sleep with Kate.
It made sense. It was just business. Kate was resilient, resourceful, intelligent. She might be irreverent and unconventional, but he hadn’t gotten this far this fast by playing it safe. She’d fit in just fine.
So why can’t you promise?
He sighed. “This is probably a bad idea,” he said out loud.
But he was going to do it anyway.
…
“Get a grip, O’Hara,” Kate muttered to herself as the elevator descended to the bowels of Fiendish’s basements. “Just another day at the office, right? It’s a living, right?”
Granted, it was a living where she had to help the sinfully sexy Thomas Kestrel enslave humans. And potentially rent out their bodies to demons. Along with light administrative duties.
No wonder I get paid the big bucks… right? she thought, fighting back hysteria.
Prue had made it clear—Kate’s continued employment was her only guarantee of her continued existence. Unless she figured out what Thomas was up to, and maybe came up with some way to protect herself, she was hosed.
So here she was, a redheaded Mata Hari in business casual khakis.
I just need to find out enough to either go to the cops, or maybe Nan’s supernatural friends or something, she thought. Anything I can use to convince him not to kill me.
She squared her shoulders, slapped on a semi-convincing smile, and walked into the basement. “Hey, guys! How’s it going?”
A dull-looking bald worker, one she’d named Earl, gave her a wan smile. “Found two more,” he said, his voice mournful.
“Great!” Her voice sounded too chipper—manic-hamster cheerful—and she toned it back a bit. “Remember to take breaks, okay? And have you seen Slim?”
Earl nodded slowly. He seemed to do everything slowly.
Kate waited, then sighed. “Where is he?” she asked, remembering just how literal the Basement Boys tended to be.
At a glacial speed, Earl turned, pointing to where her tall friend stood, studying something on one of the long tables. She thanked Earl and sped to where Slim was standing.
If she’d be able to find out anything, it’d be from Slim. Of all the demons, he seemed the most intelligent—and the most likely to know something. He was also the most likely to tell her, since she considered him a friend.
Work friend, anyway. After all, he’d stood up for her when Dexter was still there, and she’d fed him when she found out he was starving.
Okay, maybe he was a friend-friend.
“How’s it going, Slim?” she asked, her voice sounding tight to her own ears. Then she frowned. “What are you reading?”
“These things are fascinating,” he murmured, and she realized he was reading the manual that came with the laptop. “Every time I saw one, I’ve wondered, and now I realize that they can do so many amazing things…”
She couldn’t help smirking. “You are so one of mine.”
That made him look up. “One of your what?”
“You’re a nerd. That makes you one of mine… It’s a long story,” Kate prevaricated. “Anyway, I um… I wondered if I could ask you a few questions. About, erm, the contracts.”
Instantly, his expression shuttered with suspicion. “I do not think that would be a good idea, Kate,” he said in a low voice. “The less you know, the safer.”
“Well, I already know quite a bit,” she admitted, and he looked both scared and kind of ill. Which was how she felt, so she could relate. “At least some of it.”
“What, exactly?” he asked softly.
She glanced around. The guys were working steadily away—except for a few who were eating Ho Ho’s with almost carnal delight—and they didn’t seem to be paying much attention, but she didn’t want to chance it. She shuffled Slim off to a corner. “I know that these contracts sign people’s souls,” she whispered.
He didn’t admit it, but he looked guilty and miserable. Then his eyes narrowed. “May… may I ask a question?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Why aren’t you…” He paused, then looked uncomfortable.
“Possessed?” she guessed. “Or insane?”
Slim looked embarrassed, but grateful. “Yes. Why is that?”
Fuck if I know. But that wasn’t going to get her any answers.
He stared at her expectantly. She looked sly—at least, she hoped she looked sly—and murmured, “Why do you think?”
“Ah. He signed you.” The relief was palpable. “That makes sense.”
“Well, he won’t answer any of my questions,” Kate said, letting Slim’s assumption ride. “So I was hoping you could clear up a few things for me.”
“I will try,” Slim said, then smiled shyly. “Shoot.”
“Did Thomas, what, sign all these people? The ones whose names are on the documents, I mean?”
“Oh, no,” Slim said, and Kate felt some of her muscles unknot. “No, these are all signed by someone else. These aren’t his.”
There was some relief in that. “Are they all people from around here?”
“Some hundreds of years ago, in fact.”
More muscles relaxed. If he didn’t sign these guys, and some of the signatures were from hundreds of years ago, he was doing research. Most of these people were probably dead. How much harm could that be?
So what’s he looking for? And why?
“What does the symbol mean?” she asked. “The one we’re looking for?”
“It’s a special sort of contract. A power base,” Slim said. “It’s rare, but very effective. When a signatory is part of a base, the person who signs him shares a lot more power—but he absorbs all the signatory’s power if he is killed.”
“Huh. Why would he do that?”
“Only someone with a lot of signatories, and a lot of power,
would bother with it,” Slim said, his voice low and gossipy. “And there are twelve signatories—an unusually large base.”
“Why don’t more, er, signers,” she said, unsure of her terminology, “have power bases? Seems like they’d be handy.”
“It’s a dark ritual. Even by our standards,” Slim said.
Suddenly Kate realized—she didn’t know how Slim got over here, or even whose side he was on. And the way he said “our standards” suggested that he was into some pretty nasty stuff.
He certainly seemed nice, but obviously she wasn’t a sterling judge of character.
“Dark… how?” she asked tentatively.
“You don’t want to know.” He shuddered a little. “The demon lords have forbidden it, as well, because it makes signatories too powerful.”
“Sounds like whoever signed this thing is pretty powerful, then. And going rogue,” she mused, making a mental note to ask Prue about demon lords. “Or at least doing something seriously shady.”
Slim looked around furtively. “I believe this base has the approval of a demon lord, because it is for personal protection only.” Slim frowned. “As long as the other twelve are alive, whoever signed these people cannot be killed. Their souls will support him until he regenerates.”
Kate let out a low whistle. “Handy. So… why are we looking for these guys?”
Slim shrugged. “I can conjecture, but that’s all it would be. And I’ve learned the hard way not to dig too deeply in the Overseer’s affairs… or his employers.”
She frowned. Why would a guy go through all that trouble, with such a gnarly ritual… just to protect his own life? Maybe he was afraid of dying, she thought.
“Slim, don’t people who are signed go to Hell?”
He looked stricken, then nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so.”
“And that must really suck, right?” she said. So did the guy who signed all these people just not want to go to Hell, or what? And if so—why was Thomas looking for this guy’s power base? “I guess they don’t call it Hell because it sounds scary.”
Did Thomas want this guy dead?
Temping is Hell Page 14
