Demonicus (Overworld Underground Book 2)

by John Corwin

  "Not precisely." He displayed a complaint form with my apartment complex's letterhead. "This is a report of an altercation between Tyler Rock and your neighbors, the Reynolds."

  Mr. Rock pounded on the Reynold's door and yelled at them. He said they needed to leave his girlfriend alone or he'd kill them. They shouted a lot and Miss Glass had to pull him away.

  I tried to take the document from him, but he tucked it back into the folder.

  "Who wrote that?" I asked.

  "One of your other neighbors."

  "Which in particular?" I resisted the urge to snatch the folder from him. "It's an outright lie."

  "I'll need a statement as to your whereabouts Saturday night."

  My mind raced over recent events. We found the demonicus Saturday, right? Sunday had been Franco and Barboar. So much had happened in such a short period of time it was a big blur. I certainly couldn't tell him about what we'd really been doing, but coming up with an elaborate lie wouldn't do either. "We stayed in that night, if you must know."

  He wrote that down. "I'll need a written statement from you and Mr. Rock."

  "I can certainly write that down."

  A smug look crossed his face. "What were you and Mr. Rock doing the night of the gunshot in his building?"

  My heart went cold. Is he somehow tying these events together? I knew how they were related, but surely, he had no idea. He was desperately grasping at straws. "Oh, something quite dreadful—we were talking about what to eat for dinner."

  "Isn't it true Mr. Rock has violent tendencies?"

  I flinched at the sudden question. "Absolutely not."

  "How many arguments did he have with your neighbors?"

  "None!"

  "Who fired the gun?"

  I almost fumbled the answer. "I have no bloody idea and that's the last question I'm answering."

  He tucked the folder into a briefcase. "Let's go up to Mr. Rock's office so I can get written statements from the two of you."

  "Tyler isn't here."

  He checked the time. "When do you expect him?"

  "I'm not sure. He's out of town on business."

  The detective looked around as if he were expecting something or someone and frowned. "The sooner he meets with me the better." It sounded almost like a threat. "Otherwise I might have to get a warrant to search his condominium."

  Anger surged and I very nearly said something nasty. It then occurred to me that the detective's bizarre accusations might not be his fault. Suspicion replaced the anger. I opened my senses and took a good long look at Detective Long. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no supernatural influence on him I could detect. Then again, if he was under a spell, I might not be able to glimpse it.

  I noticed a twitch in his eye as I stared him down, and a bead of sweat caught in the wrinkles of his forehead. If those weren't signs that he was nervous about something, I didn't know what was. I'd nearly overlooked that there might be a non-supernatural reason for his behavior.

  "He and I don't have time for your games, Detective."

  The detective picked up the folder and stood. "Then I suggest you ask him yourself. It will be much cleaner if I don't have to get a warrant. That could cause embarrassing publicity for Mr. Rock."

  I remained sitting. "Who is putting you up to this, Detective?"

  He stiffened. "Nobody puts me up to anything, Miss Glass. I'm doing my job." He leaned closer, a snarl curling his lip. "I want permission by tomorrow, or I'll bring a warrant with me next time."

  "I'd be very surprised if you could get a warrant on such thin evidence."

  He smirked. "Then expect to be surprised." He turned on his heel and marched to an illegally parked sedan.

  The coffee must have perked up my presence of mind, because I had the sense to look into the vehicle to see if anyone else was with him. It was empty.

  My phone chimed with a text message from Jack. Go to a news website now!

  I did as he commanded. A photo of Tyler and me stood beneath a stunning headline: Gruesome Murders at Home of Rock's Fiancé.

  Chapter 13

  I immediately called Tyler and went to voicemail. Hands shaking, I read the story on my phone and then watched a live stream of Brandon Rock leaving a building and being mobbed by reporters.

  "Mr. Rock, where is your brother?" One reporter asked. "Does he have any comment on the murders?"

  A blood vessel stood out from Brandon's forehead and he wheeled on the reporter. "As I've told the countless reporters who have called me today, I have no comment on the matter."

  A woman shouted a question above the noise. "Have police tied his fiancé to the murders?"

  My stomach went ice cold.

  Brandon gave her a look of disbelief. "What sort of wild accusation is that?"

  The rest of the reporter mob grew quiet as they listened to the woman speak.

  "According to witness statements, Tyler was seen threatening her neighbors after they complained about excessive noise from his fiancé's apartment." She smirked as if relishing the attention of the crowd. "These are the very same people who were found dismembered in her bathtub."

  A troubled look passed over Brandon's face. "I've heard nothing of this." He looked around at the cameras. "I'm sure my brother had nothing to do with this. He's overcome his past problems and wouldn't jeopardize his future with such nonsense." Brandon nodded to some other men in suits around him and they cleared a path to a waiting limo. He briskly walked to it and climbed inside while the reporters continued shouting at him.

  A reporter turned to face the camera. "It appears there may be more to this developing story than we first thought. Is it possible Tyler Rock and his fiancé are involved with these murders?"

  The scene switched back to a studio where a man and woman behind a news desk debated several possibilities, all of which were completely absurd, the least of which was that I was engaged to Tyler. The noise of car doors opening and shutting took my attention from the phone.

  Three news vans were parked at the curb. A reporter looked at a small mirror and applied fresh makeup while a man unpacked a large camera. Other news crews began to do the same. I might have stared longer if it didn't suddenly occur to me that they were here to see Tyler or me.

  Thankful the bench was far enough from the entrance of the building to avoid being seen by the reporters, I got up and walked toward a nearby information kiosk. I hid behind it while the reporters set up an ambush for me. One reporter tried to go inside the building, but was quickly ushered out by security.

  I called Jack. "I can't get back inside the building. There must be six reporting crews down here."

  "Damn. Bad news travels fast." He clicked his tongue. "Maybe you should go back to Tyler's until this shit storm blows over."

  "I don't think it will." I peered from behind the kiosk and wondered how long it would take for the reporters to give up and leave. "Besides, they're probably waiting at Tyler's place too."

  "True." He blew out a breath. "I didn't know you and Tyler were engaged."

  "We're not. They seem to be fabricating everything from the depths of their wildest dreams." Just thinking about it made me seethe. "Some woman claimed there were witness reports of Tyler threatening our neighbors after a noise complaint."

  "Tyler's only been over to your place what, three or four times?" Jack said. "And I can't imagine him threatening anyone."

  "Neither he nor I even spoke to any of my neighbors, much less threatened them." I turned and leaned against the kiosk. "The investigating detective just confronted me a moment ago with all sorts of absurd accusations."

  "Something smells wrong with this entire situation." He made a thoughtful noise. "What if whoever wants to sabotage the company is doing the same thing to Tyler's image? I mean, if stockholders don't have faith in a CEO, the stock plummets and makes it easier to do a hostile takeover."

  "The possibility occurred to me. I even checked for signs of—" I'd almost said something about demonic influ
ence but caught myself at the last minute. "I mean, he seemed nervous. I wonder if someone is paying him to do this."

  "There's a video clip with that woman you mentioned," Jack said. "It's the one where she told Brandon Rock that Tyler was seen threatening your neighbors." He sighed. "It's getting tons of views right now."

  "What news organization was she with?" I asked.

  "I'm checking."

  I looked out at the reporters once again. A man on the other side of the kiosk looked up. Recognition lit his eyes and I belatedly saw the ID badge from the BBC hanging around his neck.

  "Emily Glass?" He asked.

  I nearly bolted like a startled deer, but another thought hit me. "What in the world is the BBC doing here?"

  He seemed surprised by my question. "Are you Emily—"

  "Again, I ask you, what is the BBC doing here?"

  He chuckled. "Well, bit of a strange thing, but Emily Glass—you—are originally from England and we do report news from the U.S."

  I stared at him for a moment. "I will give you and only you an interview if you can meet me around the corner."

  "I'd be delighted."

  "Good. Meet me there in five minutes." I turned and walked away, thoughts whirling in my mind. I heard a faint voice and realized I'd forgotten Jack was still on the line.

  "Emily?"

  "I'm still here. It looks as though I'll be giving the BBC an exclusive."

  "Oh really?" he seemed excited. "I can't seem to find which organization that woman is with, but I found another video with reporters tossing questions at Tyler's sister, Arianna Rock. A man there asked her questions nearly identical to what the woman said."

  "How very interesting."

  "Yep. Reporters couldn't reach Cyrus Rock for comment, so I don't have any video of that." Keys tapped in the background. "I sent you links for the videos."

  I reached the rendezvous corner and concealed myself lest other reporters come my way. "Keep searching for information on that man and woman. There's something dodgy about those two."

  "I will divine the depths of their bolloxed dodginess."

  I snorted. "That's not how you use those words, Jack."

  "I'll get back to you soon. Good luck with the interview!" He disconnected.

  A shock of panic raced through me as I realized I hadn't looked into a mirror to make sure I was presentable. Using my phone's selfie camera, I checked my makeup and made sure my eyebrows passed muster.

  I peeked around the corner and saw the reporter coming my way with his cameraman. Much to my relief, no one else was following them. When they came around the corner, I put on my best smile and projected as much confidence as possible.

  The reporter shook my hand. "I'm David Cornwall, and this is my cameraman Brent Wilkins."

  Abandoning my forced American accent, I smiled and greeted him. "A pleasure, Mr. Cornwall and Mr. Wilkins. It's a pleasure hearing proper English."

  The two men chuckled. "It can be rather trying on the soul, Miss Glass," David said. "Are you comfortable interviewing here, or should we adjourn somewhere else?"

  "This will be quite all right, if Mr. Wilkins thinks the lighting is favorable," I replied.

  "The lighting is splendid," Brent said. "I think it will do justice to your lovely features."

  "You are too kind." I nearly shed a tear. "It's so wonderful to witness proper manners again."

  David smiled. "Indeed, Miss Glass."

  "Will this be live or recorded?" I asked.

  "Our camera transmits to our van around the corner," Brent replied. "It will be live, but with a five second delay."

  David motioned to Brent. "Ready when you are, Mr. Wilkins."

  The cameraman counted down. "Three, two—" He held up one finger and then pointed it at David who stood in front of me. "Today we have the privilege of interviewing Miss Emily Glass, fiancé to millionaire Tyler Rock, and a former British citizen." He turned to me. "Miss Glass, there has been a storm of rumors surrounding the incident at your apartment, but we have yet to hear anything from you or Mr. Rock. Would you be so kind as to tell us the particulars?"

  A surge of terror skittered through me as I imagined how many people were watching and I froze for an instant. Don't do this now, you ninny! Somehow, I managed to speak. "I'd be delighted." I forced my lips into a smile. "First, I should clarify that Tyler and I are not engaged. We're dating."

  David smiled pleasantly. "Duly noted, Miss Glass."

  His smile chased away some of my jitters and I was finally able to arrange my scattered thoughts. "It's one of many false rumors I've seen on the news today." I paused a second to let that sink in. "Joe and I went by my apartment to pick up some of my personal items. When we opened the door, we encountered a nightmare." I detailed the crime scene down to every remembered detail. "We immediately called the police, of course."

  "What of the accounts claiming you and Tyler feuded with your neighbors?" David asked.

  "In the few months I've lived here, I've never once met my neighbors aside from seeing them on occasion in the hallway. My roommate and I have never held a party, nor have we ever been up late at night shouting." I smiled. "Our wild nights consisted of eating Nutella with a spoon and talking about the day's events."

  "So there is no truth to the claims that you were the subject of noise complaints, or that Mr. Rock threatened your neighbors?" David asked.

  I shook my head. "Absolutely not. In fact, when I saw the interviews with Arianna and Brandon Rock, I immediately wondered where those news reporters had gotten such terrible information. When I tried to look up who they were, or which news organizations they represented, I couldn't find anything." Keeping my expression as pleasant as possible, I shook my head. "It's almost as if they were intentionally spreading malicious rumors."

  "Interesting," David said. "We'll look into that as well, Miss Glass."

  I considered broaching the subject of the issues Tyler was having with his companies and adding that this latest incident might be a part of a broader effort to financially damage him, but decided not to. I didn't want to sound like a conspiracy nutter.

  "We here at the BBC want to thank you for this exclusive opportunity, Miss Glass," David said.

  "The pleasure was mine," I said.

  David turned to the camera. "This is David Cornwall, live from Atlanta, Georgia."

  Brent made a cutting motion and lowered the camera.

  I turned to David. "Will you really check into those videos I mentioned, Mr. Cornwall?"

  "Absolutely. It wouldn't be the first time someone planted people in a mob of reporters." He tilted his head slightly. "Do you think someone might be doing this to financially harm Mr. Rock?"

  I shrugged. "Bad PR would certainly be an effective weapon."

  "Indeed." He shook my hand. "Perhaps you should hire a taxi, Miss Glass. I suspect other reporters will descend upon this place within minutes."

  I nodded. "A good day to you both." I hailed a nearby taxi and instructed it to drop me at a Vietnamese restaurant down the road. Though I wasn't terribly hungry thanks to the bagel, I decided it was lunchtime anyway.

  Tyler called me when I had a mouthful of noodles. I gulped and answered. "Have you heard?"

  His voice was grim. "Yes. I've hired a PR firm to start damage control already. Any problems on your end?"

  His mention of a PR firm made me feel uneasy. Not because I thought the firm might do a poor job, but because I'd just gone on live television and possibly said something counterproductive. "Um, nothing too bad, though a horde of reporters descended on the office today."

  "I'd expect so."

  "Yes, well, I hope I didn't bollox things up, but I gave an interview to the BBC." I winced in anticipation of his anger.

  "What did you tell them?" Tension filled his voice.

  I told him.

  "Good. That's the same story we're going with."

  I swirled the noodles in my bowl with a chopstick. "It's not a story. It's the truth." I
stabbed a piece of meat. "Detective Long also visited me shortly before the media storm began. He made similar accusations to those I heard on the news—about you threatening the neighbors, and them reporting us for noise violations." I growled. "We know those are lies."

  "Those may be lies, but public perception is easily molded by the media." He released a loud breath. "We might be able to push back, but damage has already been done. Stocks in companies I own have fallen across the board."

  "Your former demon acquaintances must be determined to torture you in every way possible."

  "Now I know why Barboar murdered your neighbors," Tyler said.

  I almost agreed with him, but something about the demon angle didn't make sense to me. "If he intended to use those murders in a long-term plan to bring down your business empire, then why did he intend to kill us with a grenade?"

  Tyler remained silent a moment. "You're right. I never knew Barboar or the others to be long-term planners. They were like little kids looking for instant gratification. That's what usually separates the lesser demons from the greater ones."

  "It's possible Barboar committed the murders as part of a long-term plan, but couldn't resist the temptation to kill you when he had the chance."

  "Possibly," Tyler said. "Another demon might have commanded him to follow a more complex plan, but why would my financial destruction be of any interest to a greater demon?"

  "We've been so involved in the supernatural world that we haven't even considered more mundane miscreants." It didn't take much imagination to name two of them. "Brandon and Arianna would both benefit from destroying you financially."

  "And both of them are capable of masterminding such a devious plan." He grunted. "I think the murders just happened to play right into their hands. In cases like this, the police don't usually release all the information to the public."