by Cat Adams
“No offense, but for something like this I want tools I’m familiar with. Besides”—I pointed at my feathered friends—“they aren’t exactly native to the desert. Let’s let them go to bed so they don’t signal our arrival. Kevin’s tough enough to last for another hour or two.” I believed that absolutely and let the confidence show in my face and body. Jones let out another disapproving noise while Edgar shrugged. Emma looked at me for a long, silent moment and let out a deep breath before nodding.
“Fine. I’ll take you to wherever your tools are.” Jones opened his car door. “Get in.”
That so wasn’t happening. I smiled cynically. “Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but … well, I don’t trust you. I’d rather you not know exactly where I keep my stuff. I’m sure you feel the same.” Paranoia, thy name is Celia Graves. “Just tell me where and when to meet you.”
His expression shifted from surprise to offense before settling into respect. “You’ve got GPS?”
At my nod, he leaned into his car, punched a few buttons on his Garmin, then wrote something on the back of an envelope he picked up from the floor. “Use these coordinates. Meet me there in two hours. Hewitt and I will go start scoping out the facility. We’ll be ready to move in once you arrive.”
Edgar spoke up then: “I haven’t eaten yet, Jones. I doubt you want me to snack on a demonically possessed person.” Ouch. I don’t know exactly what the result of that would be, but bad seemed likely. “Of course, I’d need less if…” He left the statement unfinished but raised his brows at Jones.
No. He couldn’t really be suggesting that Jones donate blood. I’d heard that magical blood had more kick, but Jones didn’t seem the type to agree to that.
But he shook his head with only mild annoyance, not the outrage I’d expected. “Fine. But no more than a pint. I can’t afford to be less than my best.”
Eww. And they seemed so … casual about it. “Oh my god! You have got to be kidding. Have you done this before?”
Edgar seemed taken aback by my outburst. “Celia, vampires drink blood. It’s what we live on. Whether it’s Jones or a random drunk in an alley or one of your friends, I plan to eat tonight. You may have the luxury of being able to pick and choose your meals, but I don’t. One of these days, you might not have the choice, either, so you might as well get used to the thought. Eventually you will become a full vampire, by accident or intent or simple biology. There’s no way to avoid it.”
With that and probably to prove his point, he grabbed Jones’s arm. Jones didn’t move a muscle as Edgar’s lips peeled back to reveal delicate fangs. His eyes glowed red and Emma gasped. She backed behind me and even I wanted to turn away. But I couldn’t escape those eyes and the need behind them. The vampire inside me struggled to reach the surface. It wanted to share in the feast, and when Edgar drove his teeth into the soft flesh my whole body shuddered. It took more effort that I’d imagined to hold my ground. Even closing my eyes didn’t help, because soft slurping sounds made every nerve tingle, so I covered my ears. What I really needed were nose plugs, because the sweet copper that filled the air made me moan. I turned away then, just barely managing to avoid banging into Emma, and started to walk. I ran smack into Dawna, who was holding bags of succulent-smelling food that erased the copper from my nose. There was spaghetti for Emma, Chinese for herself, and when I opened my eyes I saw a tall cup with a straw that I was betting was mine.
Before she could react to my slamming into her or to Jones playing blood donor, I brought the straw to my lips and began to suck. Surprisingly, it was warm and thick and tasted equally of fruit and something I couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it satisfied the hunger of both vampire and human.
I looked at Dawna questioningly while continuing to drink. She had given Emma one of the Styrofoam containers and Emma had a sick look on her face as she stared at the rich tomato sauce. Jones’s blood was dripping onto the pavement. Jones didn’t seem to mind; he reached for one of the containers of Chinese with his free hand and a calm expression. Dawna handed it to him at the farthest reach of her arm. The discomfort on her face was the same sort of expression she would use while watching a relative snacking on live crickets. And she had relatives who did.
“What’s in this?” I finally got enough down to tear my lips from the straw. “It’s really good.”
“It’s a mixed-berry smoothie with lots of au jus. I asked the guy at the Chinese place to cook my beef slightly and pour the bloody broth in there before adding the stir-fry spices. Glad you like it.”
The look on my face as I regarded the cup made both men laugh. Edgar used the back of his arm to wipe blood from his lips before he said, “At least your friends have common sense, Graves.” His fangs weren’t showing, and he seemed once again like a collected, albeit amused, businessman, instead of the evil bloodsucker we’d just seen. I refused to dignify the comment and went back to drinking my shake. “I think you’ll find that eventually beef won’t be enough. There’s a reason why we instinctively seek out humans to feed from.”
“I’m doing just fine.” And I was. I was treating my vampirism like a food allergy. Adapt, but never give up your sense of self and humanity.
They were both still chuckling while they got in the car. Edgar took the wheel while Jones opened his food container and dug in as the twin holes in his wrist dripped down his arm. Crap. I so didn’t want to work with these guys. Yeah, they’re professionals, and powerful. But they seriously creeped me out.
“So what’s the scoop?” Dawna was looking pretty green and hadn’t touched her food. I could tell she was hanging on by teeth and toenails. It didn’t surprise me that this bothered her, given that she’d been attacked just a couple of weeks ago. The question was, would she collapse later? I’d have to make sure Emma stayed with her.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Me, too.” A shudder overtook her. “I have the feeling I’ll have a lot to talk about with the therapist this week.”
I hoped I wouldn’t be needing to join her in the session room by the time we got Kevin out.
3
Forty-five minutes later, I was in my third-floor office staring at the contents of my weapons safe. The safe is stark black bespelled steel. Running from floor to ceiling and taking up most of one wall, it doesn’t really match the rest of the decor. My office is fairly feminine, with its peach walls, drapes pattered with cabbage roses, and dark wooden furniture. The safe is heavy enough that installing it required putting in several reinforcing beams underneath to hold the weight. Those beams had been a real pain in the tail to find because they had to fit the guidelines of the building’s historic-landmark status. But without them, the safe would probably have wound up crashing down through the ceiling of the second-floor bathroom, which was primarily used by the lone attorney in our building—and his clients.
I’d already changed into clothes more suitable for covert operations—heavy black denim pants, a black turtleneck, and my favorite “Frankenstein” boots with the steel toe inserts. I could put my hair up under a stocking cap if needed, which left only my pale face standing out like a beacon. I could take care of that later.
First I strapped on my knives. Created by the former love of my life, Bruno DeLuca, they were major magical artifacts. Bruno is one of the most powerful mages around, and it had taken him five years to bespell the blades. I shuddered just thinking about it. I mean, seriously, he’d bled himself every day for five years to create the magic in those knives. I was pretty sure they’d also been blessed by Matteo, Bruno’s warrior-priest brother. Which made them perfect for hunting demons.
It had been one of these knives that had killed Lilith. She was some kind of evil beyond a typical bat, because she’d been able to call a bitten priest while he was on holy ground. That takes some oomph. Killing her had turned the metal of the knife itself black. No amount of scrubbing or grinding could turn it silver again. I’d tried.
The knife’s ma
te was still gleaming and bright. Not long ago, I’d been forced to gift it to the queen of the sirens—and it had hurt me terribly to do it. She’d given the blade back after she’d had to use it to kill a member of her own family. Emotional pain seemed to follow the knives, but they worked and that was the important thing.
I shook my head. I needed to focus and get moving. The shoulder holster was next, for something with a higher caliber than my regular Colt. I wanted stopping power for any demon I might run into in the prison, so I moved up to a .44 Magnum. Then I reached for a black vest, which was a magically resistant Kevlar creation of Isaac Levy, my tailor and weapons specialist. It had multiple pockets and loops for weapons. I grabbed a stack of magical spells encased in ceramic disks, things that even non-magic humans can effectively use.
I checked each spell, making sure the raised codes on the edges hadn’t worn down. There’s seldom time during battle to read labels, so the disks are distinguished by size and shape and by the symbols carved along the edges. I pocketed disks that could cause short-term blackouts and others that were “boomers” that emitted powerful sound and light.
I was still hoping that another mage I knew, John Creede, could put a full body-binding spell into a disk. There were a lot of occasions to use that one in my business.
The black hinged case housing my newest gadget caught my eye. It was a perimeter detector that could sense the demonic. After my first one disappeared on the job where I’d been effectively killed, I’d bought a new one—the deluxe model, with a blessed silver cross. Just like the warrior priests use. I tucked it into another pocket.
There was a knock on my office door. While it was after hours and the front doors were locked, our building houses several businesses that operate 24-7. Like Bubba, the bail bondsman down the hall from me, for example. The attorneys don’t work nights, and since nobody else was in the building when I arrived I called out, “Come on in, Bubba!”
“Close,” said a familiar voice as the door opened. “Bubba let me in.” Speak of the devil. John Creede poked his head in the room. He looked good. I hadn’t seen him for almost a month, since his partner in the security firm of Miller & Creede had tried to kill us. Miller had been killed in the attack and Creede had gone back to the business to try to salvage what he could of the multinational corporation he and Miller had spent a decade building. “Got a minute?”
“Just that.” I shut the safe door as he walked in. The bolts snapped closed with an audible thunk and the light on the door turned red to show it was locked. “I have to get to a job.”
“Perfect timing then.” He was dressed in gray suit pants and a white shirt with the collar open to reveal curling hair the same sandy color as the waves tight against his head. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, as though he’d just come from a long boardroom session. In other words, yummy. He looked tan and trim and less stressed than the last time we’d seen each other. I was glad. As he walked closer I could feel the tingle of magic that always accompanied him. He didn’t seem to be generating it on purpose, but it made my whole body react. Add to that the fact that his cologne made my knees weak and I couldn’t help but stare at him, a deer caught in the headlights.
He smiled at my reaction to him. I shook my head and let out a deep breath to clear the cobwebs. “Do you have this effect on all the girls?”
“Most,” he admitted with a tip of his head. “But it’s stronger with you. Maybe that says something.” Maybe. But that didn’t mean it would go anywhere. I was so out of the dating game right now. Nothing but heartache—and I had more important things to worry about. I glanced at my watch and he noticed. “Right. I get it. You have places to be. Like I said, it’s perfect timing … for this.”
He pulled a small box from his pant pocket. It was about the same dimensions as my little seeker car, which I pulled out in response. “Already have one. But thanks for the offer. I would take a body-binding spell charm if you have that one ready.”
He chuckled softly and it made my stomach lurch again. Damn it. “Haven’t had time to work on the binding spell. But you don’t have one of these. Trust me.” Two steps closer and he was about as near as I could stand. Then he opened the box and my entire focus went to the contents, a tiny gold contraption, about the size of a bumblebee, with mesh-covered wings and huge mirrored eyes.
“Ooh! What is that?” I’d honestly never seen anything like it, which said something. I’m a total gadget geek and scour both the consumer electronics and military application shows for new toys. “Can I touch it?”
“Absolutely. I’m hoping you’ll try it out for me. Right now I’m calling it ‘Fly on the Wall,’ but I’m sure marketing will come up with a better name if it holds up in the real world.” He picked it out of the box and handed it to me, then pressed a button on the small metal contraption. “Take a look.”
I was turning the fly around in my hands, but when he held up the box I realized the fly was transmitting high-definition images that could be viewed on the screen at the bottom of the box. One half of the screen was a close-up of my face, while the other displayed a view of the entire room.
“I’d heard that cameras were starting to do fly-eye images, but I’ve never seen one this small or with such sharp focus.”
“Blame that on magic,” he said with a grin that told me he was happy I was impressed. “But that’s only half of it. Watch this.” Taking a tiny bead about the size and color of a BB out of the case, he pressed it against a small plate on the back of the fly and all of a sudden I was holding a real-live horsefly. The feet moved and the head turned and it felt totally like a living bug in my fingers. The images on the screen moved when the head did, and I fully admit that I let out a little girly squeal of delight.
“How cool!”
“We’re not done yet.” Creede sounded like a kid with a new bike as he pulled up a small antenna and joystick combo from the side of the screen. The fly’s wings began to vibrate against my hand. When I let go, it hovered above my palm. The joystick steered the fly around the room, and no matter how abrupt the insect’s movements, the pictures on the screen stayed clear. “It records, too. Want to try it out on your job tonight? It’s a prototype and you have such an … interesting life that I know you can give it a real workout.”
I stared at the screen, totally engrossed. It would be perfect for this job. We could find out exactly where Kevin was in the prison without risking any of our hides. “Um, I’d like to, Creede. But honestly I’m not sure if I … that is, if it will survive the night. It’s going to be a rough job. It’s your only one and that wouldn’t be fair.” I glanced at him and saw that his whole expression had changed.
“Do you need backup?” He was dead serious and I appreciated the offer. He was a powerful mage and I’d seen him in a fight before.
“Probably.” I nodded and sighed. “But it’s not my party.”
He’d been in the security game long enough that he understood what I meant. He directed the fly back to his hand and put it back in the box without a word. I couldn’t help but admire his easy familiarity with it. I knew it wouldn’t work that easy for me. After it was turned off and closed, he forced the container into my palm, making my whole arm tingle nicely. “Take it. It sounds like you’ll need it, and I can make another if need be. In fact—” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small charm ball with a tiny glass window set into it. “Take this, too.”
I turned it in my free hand curiously. “What is it?”
“This is a magical beacon. If you get into water hot enough you need out, crack the glass with a thumbnail or even your teeth and I’ll show up to help. All of the M and C people have one. Actually,” he said with a smile, “probably a dozen operatives will show up if you break that particular one. It’s keyed to my personal magic. I have more than one employee who will drop everything to save the guy who signs their paychecks.”
That made me laugh as I tucked it into a pant pocket. I wanted that one close to me. I
n fact, it might wind up inside my bra, which is seldom searched, even by the bad guys. And if I was being strip-searched, I wanted it where someone might break it by accident.
I squared my shoulders and looked once more into those flame-licked hazel eyes. “Thanks, Creede. Really. For everything.” I meant it and it came through in my voice.
He growled and frowned, because I’d just broken the rules. Tough-guy bodyguards don’t thank each other. It’s considered gauche and … soft. His sudden discomfort made me smile and caused me to impulsively reach out and hug him. I didn’t plan it; I swear.
The things the touch of his body did to mine were beyond description. Even the vest, stuffed with Kevlar and “toys,” couldn’t stop his magic from bringing my skin alive. Every nerve stood at attention, and goose bumps crawled across every inch of me. The scariest thing was that I absolutely knew he wasn’t just reacting to my siren abilities. He had a charm to prevent himself from being magically influenced by me. A grunt from him told me the reaction wasn’t one-sided. I started to pull away, but he would have none of it. His arms snaked around my body and held me tight against him, while his mouth moved to my ear and stopped just before making contact. I could feel his warm breath on my earlobe.
Now panic tore through me, because all my body wanted was for him to tear off my clothes and throw me to the floor. Bruno had made me feel like that sometimes, but this was different. It was superficial, lust without emotional depth. But that didn’t make it any less real or wanted. I hadn’t had sex in a long time and my body knew what it needed. “I have to go, Creede.”
He didn’t respond except to move his hands up my back, which made my stomach tighten and my fingers dig into his muscular shoulders. “I know.” The words pushed into my ear softly, a mixed message. What did he know? That I had to get to the job or that I wanted to feel his fingers on my skin, his lips close over mine? Then I remembered he was a skilled telepath. Crap. While I hoped he was using discretion, he could easily know what I was thinking before I’d even processed the thoughts.
