“License and registration.” It was an order.
“Certainly, officer.” Belial extracted the documents from his wallet and handed them over. “May I ask why you stopped me?”
“Step off the bike.”
Behind his face shield, Belial glared at him. This mortal had no idea with whom he was dealing. He put down the kickstand and slung his leg over the saddle, making it a point to land close enough to the cop to emphasize his superior height. He removed his helmet.
“What’s the problem?” He stared down his nose. The cop didn’t say anything, but Belial could tell he didn’t like having Belial tower over him. After a moment of studying the documents, he grunted. He looked Belial in the eyes for a long moment.
“I’ve known Dara Strong for a long, long time.” He hooked his right thumb into his belt, so that his hand hovered just above his gun. “Went to high school with her.”
“Did you?” Belial toyed with the idea of making the fool shoot him, but quickly abandoned the notion. Demons weren’t to draw attention to their otherness while on mission.
“Folks around here think the world of her.”
“Indeed. Why wouldn’t they?”
The cop squinted at him. “I think you should steer clear of her.”
“Did she ask you to deliver that message?” Demons couldn’t read minds, but they could get a pretty clear reading on emotions. Belial probed, looking for jealousy or resentment, but all he found was protectiveness.
“You were doing twenty over the speed limit.” The officer’s face dared him to argue. After scribbling for a moment, he tore a page off his pad and handed it to Belial. It was a ticket for a two-hundred-dollar fine. Mammon would be livid. In ages past, Belial would have made the man’s cow go dry in retribution.
Sometimes he really missed the old days.
“Think about what I said.” The cop handed him back his license and registration, the threat implicit. He trudged back to the cruiser and got in.
Belial mounted the bike, flicking his fingers toward the car in a subtle movement, invisible in the dark. Inside the shadowy patrol car, the officer put on his seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened.
Of course, there was a lot to be said for the present, too.
Chapter 15
By five o’clock Friday, Dara had made thirty phone calls and hadn’t received a pledge of a single dollar. That could be because this part of Florida was still recovering from the last hurricane, but it felt more like demonic interference.
She rubbed her temples. Thank God it was Friday. Over the weekend, she would come in and write out payables checks for the month and see where that left them.
Even worse than the rebuffs in her canvassing calls were the disturbing sensations she felt every time she recalled her encounter with Dr. Demon the night before. Each time the memory assaulted her, she shoved it away, but at every unwary moment, it was back, taunting her, luring her.
She was shutting down her computer when the phone rang. She eyed it hopefully. Maybe someone had changed their mind. She picked up.
“Hey, chica, this is Lilith Rojas. It’s been a long first week. Care to join me for a drink to celebrate surviving?”
Dara hesitated. Lilith’s exotic beauty, coupled with her unusual scent, made her a prime candidate for demon-hood.
“I hear that Slyders has great fries,” Lilith said.
There would be salt shakers on every table, enabling an on-the-spot demon test.
“Slyders sounds great,” Dara said.
A half-hour later, Dara walked through the bar, where kitschy fishing nets studded with sand dollars and dried starfish festooned the ceiling. Out on the patio, Mother Nature did the decorating. A salty breeze ruffled tufts of sea oats that dotted the expanse of white sand lying between the patio and the restless ocean.
Lilith was already there, along with two glasses of wine. “I hope you like red.”
The glass at Dara’s seat stood right beside a salt shaker that was nearly full. It couldn’t have worked out any better if she’d planned it herself. She reached for the wineglass and knocked over the shaker. Grains of salt scattered across the table top.
“That was clumsy.” Lilith barely glanced at the spilled salt. She looked amused, her tone light, displaying none of Dr. Demon’s compulsion to count the spilled grains.
Here in the sea breeze, the smell of rosquitas wasn’t perceptible. Dara felt a little ridiculous, but just to be certain, she dropped the shaker as she attempted to right it, making sure salt grains landed directly in front of Lilith. This time, Lilith didn’t even look at the salt.
She wasn’t a demon after all, just a woman that had recently moved to the area and was in search of friends. Dara tilted her head to one side and then the other, loosening muscles that felt like they’d been rigid for days.
Lilith watched her with a smile. “To never having another week like this one.” She raised her wineglass.
Dara clinked hers against it. Have you ever had a drink? And then his lips on hers, teasing, taunting, drawing her closer. She squashed the memory.
“What happened?” she asked. “You seemed to have it all together when I was there yesterday.”
Lilith crimped her mouth into a crimson rosebud and rolled her eyes. “I put up a good front.”
“So, what happened?”
“Nothing. It’s always tough, starting a new gig. High expectations and all that.” Lilith was wearing a red lace camisole and a tiny black skirt that showed off her amazing legs. The matching jacket hung on the back of her chair. Her red-and-black heels were even higher than the ones she’d had on the day before, if that was possible. She attracted a lot of glances to the table.
Dara looked down at her own outfit. Next to Lilith’s upscale elegance, she felt like a frump. At least she wasn’t in scrubs.
“I never pictured Craig as a tough boss.” She relaxed back in her chair and took a sip of her wine.
“He probably isn’t.” Lilith’s smile was wry. “You may have picked up on the fact that I’m a wee bit of an overachiever.” Her jaw went square. “I want to destroy this assignment.”
Dara blinked at the sudden passion in Lilith’s voice. “I’m sure you will.”
Lilith lifted her glass and drank. Her mouth left a scarlet imprint on the glass, but her lipstick didn’t smudge.
“You were having a pretty bad week, too,” Lilith said. “Did things get any better?”
Dara thought about Dr. Demon’s late-night visit. Unless having your immortal soul placed in jeopardy counted as a step up from losing your clinic funding, her trajectory hadn’t improved. She shook her head.
A pretty waitress appeared. “Can I interest you ladies in an appetizer? They’re half-price until seven p.m.”
Lilith lifted her eyebrows. Dara shook her head.
“No appetizers,” Lilith said, “but we’d like a round of martinis.”
“Not for me,” Dara said.
“Oh, live a little,” Lilith said. “If you haven’t earned one after the week you’ve had, I don’t know who has.”
It was tempting. Dara had never been drunk in her life. Her grandparents were teetotalers. After she moved to Jacksonville for college, she’d been too busy trying to keep up her grades and earn enough to cover expenses to party. She wavered and landed on a compromise.
“No martinis,” she said, “but I will take another glass of wine.”
Two hours later, Lilith had polished off four martinis and Dara was sipping at her third glass of wine. She was feeling decidedly mellow. For the first time in her adult life, she’d be taking a cab home.
Excusing herself, she went to the ladies’ room. As she washed her hands, she checked herself out in the mirror. Even allowing for the fact that her unstructured jacket wasn’t the most flattering cut in the world, her body looked dumpy compared to Lilith’s voluptuous curves. For the first time in years, she looked at herself, really looked at herself. She didn’t like what
she saw.
Behind her, the bathroom door opened and, speak of the devil, it was Lilith. Although, if they were talking about the devil, strictly speaking, it should have been Dr. Lyle. For some reason, that struck Dara as hilarious. She giggled. Without asking why, Lilith joined in. Soon they were both bent double, tears rolling down their faces.
That lasted until a pair of young women who didn’t look old enough to legally be in the bar came through the door. They were dressed in micro-shorts that displayed long, tanned legs that rivaled Lilith’s, and crop tops that showed off taut bellies. They took one look at Dara and Lilith and exchanged eye-rolls. That made Dara laugh even harder. Lilith drew herself up, giving them a look that should have flayed the skin from their lithe young bodies.
Suddenly, Dara didn’t feel like laughing anymore. She took Lilith’s elbow. “Let’s go back to the table.”
Lilith shook her head. Her charcoal-shaded eyelids were half-closed, hiding her thoughts as well as her eyes. “I need to use the toilet first.”
For a bizarre moment, Dara wondered if it was safe to leave Lilith alone with those girls. But that was ridiculous. She’d already determined Lilith wasn’t a demon. The woman hadn’t achieved the position of public relations manager for the California Health Network by getting into bar brawls with young girls.
Back at the table, Dara switched to water, keeping an eye on the bathroom door. She didn’t see the girls come out, but Lilith rejoined her a few minutes later.
“So tell me about Dr. Lyle, and why you really kicked him out,” she said.
Kiss me the way a woman kisses a man. “He’s just so arrogant.” The words popped out of Dara’s mouth without intention.
“You refused to let a doctor volunteer because he’s arrogant?”
Dara thought about shutting down the conversation, but she needed to talk to someone and she couldn’t discuss this with Nana. Maybe she could share how she felt without actually saying why she felt that way.
“Doctors have big egos,” she said. “They have to, to handle all the pressure they’re under. And good-looking men usually know that about themselves—I realize that.”
“So you think Dr. Lyle is good-looking.” Lilith’s lips quirked up.
“Not as good-looking as he does, but yes, he’s handsome.”
“Go on.” Lilith was openly grinning now.
Dara felt a stir of irrational anger. This wasn’t a joke. This was her clinic they were talking about. She’d poured very ounce of energy she had, along with every dollar she possessed, into making it work.
“Dr. Lyle is so egotistical that he’s soulless.” That was true, although his lack of soul was a separate issue from his ego. “He doesn’t care for anyone but himself. He gears every move he makes toward his own betterment. At some point, what’s good for him and what’s good for my patients would conflict, and my patients would get hurt. And I won’t allow that.”
She had the impression Lilith was pleased, but she had no idea why. She opened her mouth to ask, but a voice said, “Dara?” in a tone of pure astonishment.
Jeremy Stevens, Nana’s doctor and one of Dara’s favorite volunteers, stood beside their table. He was accompanied by three other men. They were all dressed in golf shirts and chinos. The others weren’t volunteers, but something about them said “doctor” all the same.
Jeremy introduced her to his companions, recommending they look into volunteering at the clinic. They answered politely, but it was clear they couldn’t be less interested in adding another three or four hours onto their already long days, even if it was only once a month.
From the other side of the table, Lilith cleared her throat. Flushing, Dara introduced her.
More hand-shaking. The men eyed Lilith appreciatively and Dara felt like a frump again. Lilith’s gaze traveled from her to Jeremy and back. As soon as they left, Lilith pounced. “Are you two an item?”
“Not at all,” Dara said. “Jeremy’s a volunteer.”
She expected something like “why not?” but Lilith said, “Oh, good. Then you won’t mind if I go after him.”
Go after? The phrase had a predatory ring that made Dara blink. She looked at Lilith, with her blood-red lips, her strong white teeth, her dagger-like fingernails. This was not a woman who would wait, hands folded, until a man approached her. She would go after what she wanted. Even so, Dr. Stevens didn’t seem like her type. “You and Jeremy?”
Lilith smiled. “Why not?”
Dara couldn’t imagine two people who were less alike, unless it was her and Ben Lyle, and he wasn’t actually a person. “No reason I can think of.”
She drank some more water and decided to call it an evening. Her head was starting to ache. She wasn’t cut out for this partying life.
“I was wondering…” Lilith’s voice trailed off. Uncertainty seemed so out of character for her that Dara reached across the table to touch her elbow. “I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to go shopping sometime,” Lilith finished in a rush.
There was something touching about her shyness, a vulnerability Dara wouldn’t have expected. She thought about the admiring glances men had given Lilith all evening. It might be nice to have some clothes other than scrubs and business suits. “I’d love that.”
“Tomorrow?” Lilith asked.
The stack of unpaid bills at the clinic had to be dealt with first. “Sunday might be better.”
They set a time and walked out to the parking lot. Outside the front door, a pair of ambulances pulled away.
“What happened?” Dara asked a barmaid.
The barmaid shook her head. “A couple of young girls. Looked like alcohol poisoning.”
Belial was sitting on one of the black leather couches facing the massive fireplace when Lilith walked in the door of the beach house. The house had an open floor plan, with white tile floors and black marble counters separating the kitchen from the great room. The triangular back wall of the house was made up of windows from floor to roof.
Mammon had refused to pay for separate housing for Lilith, so she was staying in the maid’s quarters. It was hard to say who was less happy with the arrangement.
Belial turned off the big-screen TV when she came in, but not before she recognized the patio at Slyders.
“How did an old-school demon like you ever figure out how to tap into the surveillance system?” she asked.
She didn’t have to sound quite so surprised.
“Bad helped me,” he said.
She slipped off her heels and curled up on the other couch. “Play it again. I want to see how brilliant I am.”
He considered hurling the remote at her, but curiosity won over annoyance. He punched the on button and watched as Dara spilled salt not once, but twice. Even watching the replay, he couldn’t resist counting the grains. Lilith retrieved her lipstick from her purse and touched up her lips without so much as glancing in that direction.
He glared at her. “How are you doing that?”
She dug into her purse again and held up a pill bottle with a childproof lid.
“I got a prescription for Prozac.” She dimpled. “It really is as effective at controlling compulsive behaviors as the literature promises.”
Why hadn’t he thought of that?
“Admit it,” she said. “I’m smarter than you.”
He considered throwing the remote again, but then relaxed back onto the sofa instead.
“You’re brilliant,” he said.
Her gaze became wary.
“In fact, rumor has it you were clever enough to make off with a trove of Solomon’s jewels.”
Wariness escalated into outright panic. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”
“I don’t.” He got to his feet. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved an emerald the size of a hen’s egg. “Unless I see proof.”
She lunged at him, but he held the jewel out of her reach. After a moment or two of fruitless jumping on her part, he tossed the jewel to her.
&nb
sp; “You might want to stay on my good side.”
Chapter 16
Belial strolled into the Accounting Department and tapped the little bell. A clerk with ten bandaged fingers dragged herself up to the counter.
“Can I help you, Lord Belial?” She turned her head and let out a long, gagging cough. “Sorry,” she said. “Paper dust.”
“I need some cash,” he said.
She tapped a few keys on her computer, wincing as each bandaged finger pressed a key. Blood seeped from beneath the wrappings. In life, she’d probably been an embezzler. Most of the clients assigned to Mammon were. She read what was on the screen and swallowed.
“It says here you’ve exhausted the budget for this mission.” Her voice trembled.
Mammon had been eying the CED slot for years. This was part and parcel of his efforts to ensure Belial didn’t win the promotion.
Belial had never been a demon for taking things out on the clients. Besides, he’d come prepared. In his pocket, he had a prospectus for a tech startup he’d strong-armed from Bad. Mammon loved getting in on moneymaking ventures.
“Let me talk to your boss,” Belial told the clerk.
A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a large pitcher, a cutting board and a dozen lemons. “He says I’m to make you lemonade while you wait.”
“I don’t want any lemonade.”
She cut into a lemon anyway, yelping as the juice seeped into her paper cuts. It was only after she filled the pitcher with a pale yellow liquid laced with red swirls that Mammon appeared.
The Accounting manager was huge. He wore a gold crown and a cream-colored silk cape shot with gold threads. Sharkskin boots covered his massive feet. To Belial’s irritation, Lilith was with him.
Mammon glared at him. “What do you want?”
“My multipronged approach to this assignment requires bribery.” Bribery. The last refuge of the second-rate demon. Just saying the words left a foul taste in his mouth.
“Bribery’s good.” Mammon swept his arm around the huge cavern. Everyone at the thousands of desks sported the same little bandages as the clerk who had waited on him. “That’s how I recruited most of my staff.”
The Demon Always Wins: Touched by a Demon, Book 1 Page 9
