Demonized

by Naomi Clark

  “Banning, I got you a coffee. You take it black, right?” She pushed a cup toward me as I sat down. The table between us was one of those dumb, low circular things that I’d bashed my kneecaps on every time I moved.

  I settled myself in and took a sip of the coffee. It tasted like paint stripper—perfect. “Thanks. What’s all that?” I nodded to the stack of papers balanced on her lap.

  “Notes on the Skinner girl. Remember I told you, we pulled a hooker out of the river a fortnight ago?” She handed me the top sheet.

  It was a color photocopy of the girl’s driver’s license. Kimberley Skinner was a pretty little thing, with golden ringlets and a big smile. The license said she was only nineteen years old. “You said she was killed the same as Rhian, right?”

  Anna nodded. “I don’t suppose you got a proper look at Rhian’s body before we showed up, did you?”

  I shrugged.

  “I’d only been there five minutes. I saw she was dead. That was all I really needed to know at that point.”

  “The autopsy showed she had her kidneys removed.”

  I gaped at Anna over my coffee cup, remembering my ghoulish premonition at the time. “No kidding? And Kimberley here?”

  “She had part of her liver taken.” Anna handed me a copy of the autopsy report, but I didn’t really read it. I was thinking back to the Shoregrave case.

  Teenage girls, kidnapped, killed, and dumped with their hearts stolen. I ran my hands over my forehead, hearing the Voice chuckle gleefully in the back of my mind at the bloody images running through it. I remembered talking about it with Stoker afterwards, once we’d nailed the killer and laid the demonic ghost of one dead girl to rest. “You can do some messed up stuff with human organs,” I said aloud.

  “The black market organ trade is still thriving in places like Cairo,” Anna said. “Organ brokers can make thousands of dollars per transplant here in the US, too. There are a lot of broker-friendly hospitals still active.”

  I nodded, only half hearing her. I couldn’t shake off the grim sense of doom working its way down my spine. The Voice did cartwheels in my head, loving this talk of illegal organ transplants. “Slice open those pretty girls and harvest their innards... Delicious.”

  “What?” Anna frowned at me. “You’re mumbling.”

  Thank fuck for that. “I said...” Once again I fumbled for something convincing. Since I couldn’t think of anything, I decided not to bother at all. “Have there been any similar killings recently? Or was Kimberley Skinner the first?”

  Anna eyed me dubiously. “The first we’ve found, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more we haven’t found yet.” She shrugged. “Dead hookers take a long time to surface.”

  Yeah. If you were gonna kill anyone, it might as well be a hooker. I drained my coffee, wondering if Tamsin Searle was a hooker too. If so, was she lying dead somewhere with a few organs missing?

  Anna asked me about Baxter and I told her what I knew about him and Rhian. “The guy’s genuinely cut up,” I said, passing her my case notes. “Not a suspect at all. I’d peg him as slightly controlling, but not aggressive, not capable of this.”

  “We’ll still need to interview him. You say he hadn’t seen Rhian for a month or so?”

  “She dropped off the face of the earth. However, she ended up at Hush, I don’t think it had anything to do with Baxter himself. My theory at this point is debt or drugs. Debt seems unlikely—Baxter’s loaded and Rhian herself is from a pretty good background.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Baxter swears she’s not the type, but what is the type?” I shrugged.

  “Okay. That’s a good start,” Anna said. Her tone implied she’d hoped for a better start, but what the hell. “What do you know about Hush?”

  “Nice place,” I said. “They’ve got this girl there who can do this amazing trick with a ping pong ball—”

  “Ethan,” Anna said patiently. “Seriously.”

  “It’s a strip joint, Anna. It is what it is. Better than some, I guess. The girls there are mostly clean, and the patrons keep their hands to themselves unless invited.”

  “You never spoke to Walker Moss, though?”

  “Not in person. You?”

  “Only over the phone so far,” she confirmed. “He’s been...elusive.”

  “You think he’s involved?”

  She shook her head, and her blonde waves glowed under the soft ceiling lights. I wished I didn’t notice things like that about her. It was really pointless. “I told you, his record’s clean.”

  “That just means he hasn’t been caught breaking the law,” I pointed out.

  She clicked her tongue at me, annoyed. “My impression from speaking to him was that he’s genuinely upset by Rhian’s death, and feels a certain level of responsibility toward all the girls at Hush. He seemed compassionate, decent, and just...secretive.”

  “Wow, that must have been a hell of a phone call.”

  “Not everyone we meet has to be a dirty scumbag, Banning.” Anna checked her watch. “Another cup?”

  “I could go for a muffin, too.”

  She stood, glaring at me as if trying to figure out the dirty joke, and then went to the counter to line up behind a gaggle of frat boys arguing about the best syrup for coffees. I leaned back in my chair, contemplating. Anna was right. The black market organ trade was still lucrative and widespread, but that didn’t feel right to me. The Voice agreed.

  “There was bitter magic in the air around the dead girl”, it told me, smacking its lips like it could taste it. “Salty and dark, like blood. Beautiful.”

  Huh. Finally, the Voice did something useful for me. Magic. A year ago I’d have called bullshit on that, but Shoregrave had opened my eyes. I sighed. I liked life better with my eyes closed.

  Chapter Five

  By eight-thirty cars packed out Knight Street. Looking for a parking space, we rolled along in Anna’s car, which was much nicer than mine and didn’t smell like wet dog. Although Hush didn’t open for another half-hour, already a line formed outside. More frat boys, probably arguing about the best angle for penetration now, and a few men who I guess had wives or girlfriends at home. They had that sort of “I hope nobody I know sees me” look about them, all furtive and guilty, hands jammed in their pockets.

  Anna tapped her nails impatiently on the steering wheel as we cruised the street. “We’re late. I hate being late.”

  I pointed out a space across the street and she swung in aggressively. “You worried about upsetting Mr. Moss?” I asked.

  “It took a long time to get him to agree to meet at all. I don’t want him shutting me out because we were late.” Anna reached under her car seat and pulled out a holster and gun. “Are you carrying?” she asked as she shrugged into the holster.

  “I’m loaded.”

  She shot me a dirty look as we got out of the car. I gave her my best seedy private dick grin, which just earned me another disapproving frown.

  Across the street, jagged hip-hop music spilled out of Hush already. The bouncers stood in place, monitoring the growing line. A blue neon sign flashed over the doorway, not the name of the club, but a silhouette of a woman striking a provocative pose with a pair of spiked heels. A gray stone archway over a set of steps carpeted in blue velvet led down to the club.

  Anna and I skipped the line, pissing off everyone in it in the process, flashing our badges at the bouncers. They nodded us in, and we headed down into Hush.

  I’d been here before a couple of times now. Apart from being cleaner, and not smelling of smoke and sweat, it looked pretty much the same as any other strip club. We walked on gray stone floors past dark-paneled wood walls. We saw chairs in the same dark wood arranged around a large, central stage with a pole. A catwalk led from the stage to behind a navy blue curtain. Beh
ind that was the dressing room where the girls probably adjusted their pasties and applied more eye glitter, or whatever strippers did before work. Opposite the stage, the bar advertised an array of sex-themed cocktails. I’d tried a Screaming Orgasm last time I came here, and been oddly disappointed.

  Anna took it all in with a brief, laser-like glance, before heading to the “Staff Only” door at the side of the bar. I followed, trying to look like her backup instead of her lackey. As Anna pulled the door open, the Voice sprang to life in my head.

  “We shouldn’t go through here. We’re not strong enough.”

  Taken aback, I stumbled, tripping over my feet and banging into the door. Anna frowned at me over her shoulder. “You okay, Banning?”

  “Peachy.” I straightened up, listening to the Voice panic and babble. Its sudden fear unnerved me—that and the fact that it was referring to we. That was new. If the Voice felt threatened for whatever reason, then it was safe to assume something nasty, undead, or demonic lurked nearby.

  I patted my gun for reassurance, although frankly I had no idea how well bullets would work on a demon. A bullet in the brain had stopped one of Stoker’s undead buddies for a while, but from what I knew, all the undead creatures of the world started out human. Demons didn’t. So I had no way to be sure they’d be vulnerable to human weapons. It’d probably be safer to assume not.

  “Nothing you could do would stop a demon,” the Voice scoffed. “Turn back now, before we both die!”

  I ignored the Voice, following Anna down the corridor, lined with photos of pole dancers in action, to the door at the end. There was a touch of doom about the door, black wood carved with cavorting satyrs and nymphs. I couldn’t tell why those images made me shudder, but they did. Suddenly I shared the Voice’s dread at what lay on the other side of that door.

  Anna rapped sharply on the wood, ignorant of my growing unease. “Mr. Moss? It’s Detective Radcliffe and Mr. Banning.”

  Mr. Banning? Mr. Banning was my father. I really need a fancier title. Squire Banning has a certain ring to it...

  I shook my head, and forced myself to concentrate as Anna pushed the door open. The office beyond looked pretty ordinary; a dark green carpet and pale yellow walls, no dead goats or pentagrams anywhere. The man sitting behind the big desk opposite the door wasn’t ordinary. I knew it the second we locked eyes and the Voice did too. The man was a demon.

  Not at first glance, obviously. There were no horns or pointy tail giving him away. He looked like a regular guy—nice haircut, sharp suit. I noticed he did have a manicure, but that wasn’t necessarily a sign of evil, just a certain foppishness.

  But the…aura, for lack of a better word, that surrounded the guy was definitely demonic. The plush room felt hot and sticky, and smelled a little like rotten eggs. The Voice almost deafened me screaming, “I told you so!”

  “Detective Radcliffe.” Moss stood and came around the antique desk to shake Anna’s hand. “Nice to meet you in person at last.”

  Anna flushed as he held onto her hand just a little too long. I scowled, not liking the predatory smile on Moss’s face. Since when did Anna flush?

  “It’s good to see you,” Anna told him as he finally let her hand slide free of his fingers. “This is Ethan Banning,” she added, as if just remembering me.

  “Charmed,” I said gruffly. Moss looked me over, his dark calculating eyes, narrowed.

  “Banning,” he repeated thoughtfully. “The private dick, right?”

  The Voice squirmed around inside me. “He sees me. He knows.”

  “Ethan has been here before,” Anna said before I could answer either the Voice or Moss. “He questioned some of your employees regarding Rhian Ellis.”

  Moss glanced back to her. A sad smile lit his face. “Poor Rhian. Such a waste. She was very talented.” He sat down again, gesturing for me and Anna to do the same. Anna settled into one of the black leather chairs opposite the desk, relaxing back with a sigh. I perched on the edge of my chair, tapping my foot on the carpet anxiously. Something wasn’t right here, beside the obvious.

  Anna smiled brightly at Moss, showing none of the no-nonsense cop I was used to seeing. I mean, she wasn’t giggling or twirling her hair or anything, but she was…softer. That hard glint she’d had in her eye when we entered Hush was gone. She was slumped in her chair with her long legs stretched out, like she had been at Espresso Express. Chilled out. Moss smiled right back at her, all smug and self-assured.

  “What kind of demon is he?” I asked the Voice.

  “Incubus,” it hissed. Its disgust filled my head. “Nasty, slimy creature.”

  I felt a flicker of amusement at the Voice’s revulsion for the incubus. I didn’t see much difference between them, personally. The Voice fed on violence and misery of all kinds; the incubus fed on sex. They were both still demons, both still out to hurt us puny humans.

  The Voice sneered at me and retreated back in my mind. I tuned back into the conversation. Anna and Moss laughed like old friends. I wondered what I’d missed.

  Anna cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Walker, please. Let’s focus on business.”

  “Forgive me, detective.” Moss flashed that smarmy smile at her again. “You make it hard for a man to concentrate.”

  She flushed again, dropping her gaze. I thought I might puke. “If I can cut in,” I said, leaning forward to slap my palms on the desktop. “We’re supposed to be talking about Rhian Ellis, right?”

  They both frowned at me, but Moss hid the expression fast, putting on a nice, neutral mask. “Of course. Although I’m not sure what I can tell you.” He spread his well-manicured hands in a helpless gesture. “My girls have surely told you everything already.”

  “Of course,” Anna agreed. “This is just a formality, Walker. I’m sure you understand.”

  I scowled at her, but she was too busy gazing at Moss to notice. “It’s not just a formality,” I said. “Your girls didn’t interview and hire Rhian. You did.”

  He turned his smile on me and I felt something snap in the air between us, like a static shock. For a second my body was on fire, sizzling with a hunger I didn’t have a name for. Then the Voice snarled in my head and threw something back at the incubus. An audible buzz in the air made Moss sit up straighter as surprise flashed across his face. I turned icy cold and my insides went numb. I realized with a start that Moss was trying out his incubus mojo on me.

  “It won’t work,” the Voice said. “Your body is already mine.”

  Great. The Voice had a possessive streak. I gritted my teeth and focused on Moss. “So,” I said, “are we gonna do this, or what?”

  Moss sighed and leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “If we must.” He radiated irritation.

  “We won’t keep you long,” Anna assured him, reaching out as if to touch him, then dropping her hand when he shot her a moody look. She stared at her feet, biting her lip like she was trying not to cry. Shit. I wanted Anna out of here. I wasn’t going to get anything done with her mooning over Moss like this.

  I met Moss’s eyes and a strange moment of agreement passed between us. “Detective, perhaps you’d like to go talk to my girls?” he suggested smoothly, favoring her with one of those smiles again. “I’m sure they’d appreciate your approach much more than Mr. Banning’s.”

  She wavered visibly, clearly torn between obeying him and staying to bask in his presence. In the end, Moss stood and helped her out of her seat, escorting her to the door with whispered compliments and lingering touches that made me want to punch his teeth down his throat.

  When Anna was gone, he turned to me, leaning against the door. The charming façade fell away, leaving me staring at a very pissed off demon. The air shimmered with heat, and the smell of sulfur grew stronger. I had a moment to wonder why Emma, Stoker’s half-succubus friend, didn’t stink of eggs bef
ore Moss was on me.

  He grabbed my collar, hauling me out of my chair, and lifted me off my feet with ease. “What are you?” he demanded. “You smell human, but you’re not. You can’t be. Humans can’t resist me.”

  I spat in his face and he dropped me like a hot coal. I smacked my ribs on the edge of his desk and fell to the floor with a gasp, curling up in a ball on the floor. “Maybe you’re just not my type?” I wheezed.

  Moss laughed and pulled me to my feet by my hair. I yelped in pain as he shoved me back into the chair. “There is something demonic in you, but you’re not a half-breed.” He looked me over. I forced myself to meet his gaze, hoping the Voice had my back in case of any demonic tricks.

  “If he tries any real tricks, we’re dead,” the Voice said flatly.

  You had no problems with Emma. The day of my possession the Voice had broken Emma’s spell on it to take over my body.

  “She was a half-breed,” the Voice scoffed. “This creature is a scion of the Netherworld. If he decides to kill you, you will die.”

  Awesome.

  “You are possessed,” Moss announced, sounding surprised. “I can see the cacodaemon moving behind your eyes.”

  “Is that a problem for you?” I asked, holding my aching ribs.

  “No, but it may be for you.” Moss sat down in Anna’s chair, smoothing down the slate-blue sleeves of his suit jacket. “Cacodaemons don’t relinquish their hosts easily, and their appetites are dangerous.”

  “I’m aware of that,” I snapped.

  Moss nodded. “Well. You present me with a dilemma, Mr. Banning. The cacodaemon prevents me from seducing you and I can’t kill you without upsetting your pretty police friend.”

  “So why don’t you just answer my questions and we’ll call it quits?” I suggested.

  “I didn’t kill Rhian.” A genuine flicker of sadness crossed his face, surprising me. “That’s what you wanted to ask, isn’t it?”

  “One of the things, yeah.” I felt myself start to relax, reluctantly. I believed him. It would have been nice if I didn’t, since a hooker-killing incubus made a lot of sense, but my gut told me he told the truth. “I gotta admit, the thing I want to ask most is why an incubus is running a strip club.” My understanding of demon politics was vague at best, but Stoker and Emma had given me the impression that demons had limited access to the human world.