“You are, though.” The accent made Celene’s blubbered words difficult to understand. “The cartel was your creation. No matter who takes over, it’s a black mark on your soul, Limere.”
He squeezed Celene tighter, hoping his comfort masked his trepidation.
“But, I’ll take your magic over the cartel,” she breathed. “Powerful, but your companion cost you enough for your mistakes. Maybe people understand, I don’t know. However, my vision… I noticed dark things, Limmy.”
He nodded before releasing the Latina. “You said.”
“No. I told you, and it frightens me.” Celene turned before exiting the Camry. “I understood getting the visions after learning about your magic, but the rest…”
Limere waved a hand before him, parting the residual energy. “Yeah.” His eyes widened as different energy signatures registered, some varying between pastel colors, darkened hues and other elements. “I appreciate your honesty, but I hate sharing my body with a demonic spirit.”
“You’ve done well, though. I mean, for having a psychotic—”
“Cel, stop.”
Heels thudded against the blacktop and the Camry rocked as the shifter slammed the driver’s side door closed. Despite the jolting, the mage let his body sway as he assessed the Tethered Mistress’s perimeter.
Icy eyes dilated back and forth as each aura presented itself. Residual energy threatened to backlash, but the mage pulled it toward him, embracing the newfound power. As he processed the magic and lingering spectator’s thoughts, airy laughter echoed in Limere’s mind.
Not now, bitch. Torment me when I’m done.
~Your woman awakened me, Limere,~ the demoness answered, drawling out his name. ~But the feisty bitch left. Better chase her.~
Celene can handle herself. Limere waited until his vision cleared before opening the door. I think she can handle scoping out the Mistress’s parking lot for paraphernalia.
~But can you? I wonder…~
The demoness’s sultry tone made Limere’s skin erupt with goosebumps.
~Your human interventions mean nothing if you can’t maintain self-control.~
Jagged fingernails cut into his cold flesh and Limere raked them across his palm until it bled. He kicked the door and jammed his stained fingernails into the side of his temple. As he quarreled with the nameless demoness, flashing lights diverted his attention.
The paramedics arrived, so the coroner’s with them. There are two cops—thank god my parole officer’s not here. But—
~The authorities will suspect you, either way, boy. Better hurry before the police question your woman.~
Limere huffed and scuffed the ground with his worn tennis shoes, chest tensing at the surrounding atmosphere. He waited until the cops and paramedics parked and raced inside before approaching Celene. He jammed his bony hands inside the grungy blue jean pockets before he approached his girlfriend, warding off echoing laughter from the demoness.
The laughter faded as he approached Celene, but returned once she snubbed him and flounced to another side of the sports bar.
“Jesus Christ, Celene,” Limere muttered. “I didn’t want to ruin our anniversary like this. You owe me, Sis… ruining my goddamn anniversary for something drug related.”
When the coroner exited the ambulance, Limere hurried along behind Celene, hoping he didn’t attract unwarranted attention. One hand grasped at his back pocket, sighing in relief when he felt the cold silver against his fingers.
The imagined skunky scent of cannabis relaxed the mage’s trembling body. Then, he remembered his place and straightened his posture, shoving a hand in his front pocket.
The metal vape pen soothed Limere’s burning fingers, but would never replace the comfort marijuana gave to his jittery nerves.
After a wordless walk around the Tethered Mistress, Limere stopped when Celene slammed her heel down, cracking the blacktop beneath her.
Limere tried steadying himself when the ground rocked, but stumbled before falling backward. As he landed on his butt, the shifter stormed toward him and jerked him to his feet after pulling his arm. The mage cried out against her super-strength as pain lanced through his right shoulder.
He stared at her black and white flowered dress before Celene embraced him with one arm and frisked him with her free hand.
“Celene, what the hell?” Limere demanded, wincing when her fingers grasped his shoulder. “What did I say?”
A prolonged sniff and a growl answered his question. Then her manicured nails dug into his shoulder. Limere bit his lip and endured her treatment, reminding himself about her overprotective nature.
You’re lucky she’s not a feline. At least wolves are loyal.
Once she finished, Celene beamed before patting his shoulder. “Sorry, Limmy. I thought you relapsed. The smell of drugs linger inside the parking lot.”
“I said I wasn’t with—”
“Even the best relapse. Look at Papa.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets again and released a strained breath. “Don’t compare me to your alcoholic father, Celene. Joe remained sober a week before he wrecked a bar and Sis made him beer again.”
“Well, Papa had dry spells too, so Mama spent the extra money on new clothes and expensive pedicure. She said if Papa couldn’t give her attention, she’d find other ways to entertain herself.”
“I’ve been clean longer,” Limere pointed out. “And don’t get me started on your mother.”
The grin didn’t reach her cold chocolate orbs. “Debatable. Let’s go.”
~Even your own girlfriend doesn’t believe you. How delicious, Limere.~
If I knew you’d piggyback, I wouldn’t have traded being a shifter, demon, Limere directed, following Celene. I’d sense like Cel, Reese… Sis. Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice.
~You know you did,~ Limere’s temptress answered in an amorous tone. ~Just need to use your powers more, boy.~
Magical residue and busted glass doors sent a cold chill down Limere’s spine. Quickly, he moved to them, hoping his demonic temptress’s laughter would subside. Ice-blue eyes dimmed with streaks of black when he stepped on a half-filled syringe lying by the entrance.
Celene grabbed it before he could and waved it in his face. “Your ex-girlfriend’s dealing here. Her and Desmond.”
Limere gulped and swallowed a few times. “Seems like it.”
“After all these years, you’d think they’d invest in good soap to hide the drugs and body odor,” Celene clicked her tongue. “I know they’re humans, but—”
I shouldn’t wonder what’s inside the syringe, Limere chastised, tapping his bottom lip. It won’t end well.
Saliva filled his mouth when he evoked the instantaneous high of his old vices. He locked on the syringe and tensed when Celene dangled it above a trashcan. Limere’s eyes widened at her movements, overlooking the knot in the pit of his stomach.
“Don’t,” he crooned, reaching toward the syringe. “We need it, Cel.”
She lowered the syringe until it almost disappeared. “We’ve been over this, Limere. It’s not worth screwing up. Think of the twelve-step meetings.”
“Not—for—that,” he whispered with clenched fists resting at his sides.
“You’re almost done serving parole,” Celene pressed. “It’s not worth—”
“Aviere,” Limere growled. “She’ll need it if she’s been here with the agent and Armandi.”
“Hmph.” Celene pinched her earlobe. “You sure?”
Limere glowered, and she gasped at his near blackened eyes. “Yes. Now give me the damn thing.”
With flat eyes, Celine offered him the syringe. “It’s still a shock you’re saving people instead of getting high all the time.”
Celene’s just looking out for me, he told himself, fixating on her curvaceous, exotic body. Her words hurt, but she’s honest. After years of twelve-step meetings, she has the right to call you out, Lim.
“Limmy, accept responsibilit
y for the cartel and your drug hustling.” Celene leaned against the wall and puffed on a black box mod. The large cloud of smoke trailed to the parking lot. “You can’t run away forever.”
“I already served my time,” Limere said, concealing the syringe inside a larger plastic baggie. “I did five years before they offered me parole, remember? You visited all the time.” He jammed the shielded syringe in his back pocket. “God knows everyone objected to it, though.”
“So prove you’ve changed.” Celene vaped again and narrowed her eyes. “You have the chance to repent. Reggie died because of them. You owe it to him to help Aviere.”
Limere averted his gaze when Celene mentioned his best friend. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Don’t guess.” She put a hand on her large breasts. “You didn’t get my brother out of the cartel and he died. I’m still catching hell about it from my mother, even after I convinced Karyn to try out for your team.”
“Speaking of which, Karyn said the agent asked her about Reggie when she called me.” Limere licked his lips and held his hand out for her box mod. “How does Karyn know about the Zodiac Cartel?”
Limere grimaced as Celene shoved the warm, sweaty box mod in his waiting palm. “I said something to her. Besides, she overheard with that power of hers. Stupid woman and electricity… something about frequencies on electronics. Never made sense to me.”
~Your woman is a firecracker. But someone’s coming.~
Cool air whirled around Limere’s wrist as if the demoness touched him.
~It’s an uptight guy coming through the glass doors.~
Darkened eyes settled on the broken doorway, confirming his companion’s statement. “Cel, someone’s coming.”
“Vaping isn’t illegal.”
Limere held a finger to his lips and puffed again as he leaned against the wall, within arm’s length of Celene. He exhaled and an immense smoky cloud wafted into someone’s face. The man paused and coughed before glaring at Limere and straightening his tie.
After another hit from the vaporizer, Limere turned to Celene.
Then he returned his gaze to the man and studied his salt and peppered goatee, along with his immaculate suit and tie ensemble.
Yep, Pop’s still a blue-collared tool. I doubt the feds have figured out Roland’s identity…
“Celene, can you head inside the Mistress?” Limere asked, pointing to the doors. “I’ll only—”
“I don’t like him.”
Great, I don’t need Cel fighting with Roland. I’ll hear it enough at home.
Limere studied his girlfriend and rolled his eyes when her chocolate-colored eyes narrowed. As she brushed her sundress and cracked her knuckles with a shrewd smile, he blocked Celene’s route.
“Please, Cel. Just a few minutes. I’ll take you wherever… hell, we’ll go shopping or something.”
She waggled her bushy eyebrows at Limere’s offer. “Serious?”
Tipping his maroon hat to shield his grimace, Limere nodded.
“Fine. My capoeira instructor’s bitching about using boots, so I’ll drag you shoe shopping.”
“That’s worse than shopping for dresses.”
“I could make you buy me jewelry, but I’ve ripped three pairs of shoes.” A sweaty hand grabbed his shoulder and heated breath struck his ear. “Be careful, Limmy. Don’t make me use your shopping money to post bail.”
Limere’s clammy one touched hers. “Okay, love you too.”
He noticed the trademark flounce and haughty sigh when she sauntered by Roland, flicking the ebony tresses off her shoulder. He snickered when Celene turned her head and winked at him, blowing a kiss as she sashayed by.
As Limere reciprocated the gesture, shattered glass crashed to the ground and broke as Celene pierced it with her soot-colored stiletto. One piece flew into the Tethered Mistress while the other stopped at Roland’s feet.
“Classy woman,” the director said, kicking the glass aside.
“She is,” Limere agreed. “But you’ve got nerve showing up at a shifter bar in uniform, Pop.”
“Official business. Your cartel associates murdered a young woman inside the Tethered Mistress, so I hired help. However, I need a favor.”
The tense atmosphere contradicted Roland’s words and Limere tiled his head, chortling at the sinister irony. “Really now?”
“Your sister won’t listen to me, Limere.”
Roland pulled out a cigarette and menthol permeated the cool air. The director glanced back and forth with bloodshot eyes as he cradled his precious cancer stick. While Roland collected himself, Limere used the opportunity to read his stepfather’s thoughts, snickering once more at his fight with Aviere inside the Tethered Mistress.
“Jesus, you just don’t get it.”
“Excuse me, boy?”
Limere propped himself up with a foot against the wall, ignoring the twinges and aches from the minty smell. “Not only did you leave us, but you came back and ridiculed Sis’s choices. Tell me what else she could have done, given the circumstances, Pop.”
Smoke blew in Limere’s face. “I’m not your father.”
The menthol triggered the need for a joint, but Limere clutched the box mod. “Thank god.”
“When did Aviere start working for Sanderson?”
Limere contained his laughter until his ribs hurt, then snorted at Roland’s discomfort. “A month ago, I think. But hurry up. While I’m amused, Sis and Armandi ruined my anniversary by calling me here.”
“There you go, thinking about yourself again.”
“Just spit it out. I don’t have all night.”
“You met Aviere’s partner, haven’t you?”
“I don’t have enough nicotine for this,” Limere muttered before inhaling more vapor. As the smoke cloud blew in his stepfather’s face, a scowl passed over the younger man’s lips. “But yeah, I have. His energy signature’s different than last time—a bit more powerful, but not by much.”
“Damn good shot, though. But he has other shortcomings.”
Limere’s thumb pressed against his box-mod and he relished the flavorful smoke permeating the air instead of the triggering menthol from Roland’s cigarette. His nerves calmed once he spotted Roland flicking his ashes to the ground.
“If agent man’s so good, why do you need me?”
“I’ve sent Travis to three different trainers and they’ve all filed restraining orders against him. He’s great at pissing people off, but Travis’s abilities are similar to yours. Someone has to train him before he gets out of control.”
The sultry temptress in Limere’s head giggled. ~It’s true. Take the offer. If he’s not reliable, we’ll claim it for ourselves later.~
Limere contemplated his companion’s comment as he readjusted the voltage on the box mod. “Besides Sis’s well-being, how would I benefit from training the agent?”
“I’ll drop the drug charges against you.”
With six months left? Strawberry vapor tingled on Limere’s tongue. I don’t need amnesty. Roland is desperate. Even without shifter senses, his body language shows it. However…
~The old man messed up.~ Cool sensations traveled across Limere’s neck and shoulders. ~I warned you about the Sect, boy. They’re trying to collect on the rogue.~
Let them. Agent man isn’t my concern.
~And let sister dearest—~
“I didn’t want to acquit you,” Roland interrupted, cutting off the temptress. “But you won’t accept anything else.”
“You must really hate yourself right now, Pop.” The strawberry vapor turned sour as he slid his tongue against his stained teeth. “You’re against working with criminals.”
“Stop being a smartass, Limere.”
“Not my fault the truth hurts.”
“Aviere’s got ten days to solve Sanderson’s case and I can’t book another trainer for Travis.”
“Pop, I don’t think you comprehend how difficult your demand is.”
“Look, everyone else I
tried taking him to refused.”
The desperation coming from the older man made their meeting worthwhile. Agitation laced Roland’s voice as Limere feigned a nonchalant look and willed his lips to remain pursed, not upturn with glee.
“You’re not fooling anyone, boy. Quit containing your shit-eating grin.”
Mirthful laughter escaped Limere’s lips. “Pop, I don’t blame those women. Bastard broke into our apartment after hitmen shot out Sis’s bedroom when the Renegades tagged her. It was hell convincing the insurance company to pay for the damages before we moved to South Baltimore.”
Roland growled, breaking the remaining cigarette. “I see.”
“I haven’t mastered my forbidden powers after ten years. Sometimes, I still overtax myself and get migraines for days. Ten days—it’s long enough for basics. Otherwise, agent man requires ongoing training to reach his potential.”
Limere shoved the box mod in his front jean pocket, nodding to Marco when he appeared and guarded the doorway. Then he shifted his attention back to Roland, who burned his finger lighting another cigarette.
~Teaching a mage requires years of training, boy. I’m not prepared to teach another firecracker. You’re the exception.~
Something is fishy about this, demon. Why now? What isn’t Roland saying?
A white envelope caught Limere’s consideration as Roland thrust it toward him, sucking on a finger. “I’ve already spoken to your parole officer, but you need to keep yourself clean.”
The lanky man’s eyes grew bigger at the single letter assuring his freedom before cradling the paper to his chest. “Why, Pop?”
“You’re the only lead we have.”
“No, there’s more to this.” Limere pocketed the protection order before hooking a thumb in a grungy denim belt loop. “Sanderson used to be your partner before you became the director.”
Roland hesitated before replying. “Yes.”
The temptress snorted. ~Not ominous at all, Limere. Not at all.~
“Look, you and I haven’t—we’re not on the friendliest terms, boy.”
“Pushing for my incarceration’s not a great start,” Limere agreed. “Telling Sis I won’t reform didn’t help, either.”
Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two Page 7
