At first, I’d assumed it was because I was born to be bad. But having a powerful demon like Hannah at least allowed me to work for the boss and with my team to control the flow of hell realm visitors on earth and monitor their activities. It had let me to do some good in the world. But now I wondered if there wasn’t more to it than that, especially after Hannah’s cryptic conversation with the boss the other night. It was like she’d been speaking to an old friend, or possibly an old enemy.
She’d called him Arbiter, and he’d called her Intercessor for the first time.
Hannah had been different, like she was aware on a whole new level.
Should the banished one, the one who has long slumbered, awaken, this Fallen of the Host of Seven is she who has the power to open the gates to the Realm of Darkness.
* * *
Crap on a cracker. Was that about Hannah, meaning she had the power to open the gates, the portals? Was her refusal to cooperate part of her diabolical plan to start a war? But why? Hannah helped me capture demons and protect humans and the earth realm from them. That seemed like the exact opposite of a demon who wanted to start a war. And she’d promised to keep me safe.
She’d called me her other. What did that even mean?
As Trinity pointed out, most normal humans wouldn’t survive long-term demonic possession like I had. What was up with that? I knew I was weird, but this was a seriously next-level FUBAR situation. Full-time occupation by a powerful demon sapped the host’s life-force. Alexi was the exception, since animalistic demons did less damage to their hosts and tended to work in harmony with the humans who got saddled with them.
But I certainly wasn’t special as far as demon trackers. The rest of the team had me matched in terms of weirdness. Nope, I was just one of the gang. Except I was in charge of the gang, at least temporarily, and I actually didn’t hate management yet.
Maybe I had some executive leadership skills and that made me special.
Nah.
Boice and Roice joined Mara and me in one corner of our expansive living area as we prepared to initiate a summons. Mara seemed more relaxed and at ease. I was glad. She’d been terrified when the boss had threatened her. I didn’t blame the succubus. The boss had scared me, too. In spite of everything, I was glad I’d channeled whatever mojo allowed me to keep her out of harm’s way, and not just because of her succubus charm and glamour.
She hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving. Instead, she appeared to be enthusiastic about helping. I had to admit, she made a nice addition to the team. If I lived through this current case, I’d see about hiring her so she could be a bona fide, paid member of our operation.
My roomies were bespelled enough for all of us. I had a sneaking suspicion they cared less about my fate and more about spending time with a member of the hell realm’s most beautiful and magnetic species. Fair enough.
“So,” I said, sitting on the edge of the pentagram Mara had constructed on one of our area rugs. “How do you want to start?”
I fought the urge to giggle. She’d constructed the pentagram out of uncooked spaghetti noodles and had floating tea candles placed at the tip of each star point. The sigils sparkled around the noodles. We had glitter? I had no idea the twins were crafty. It was cute, so cute I wondered if it would actually work. Then again, Mara didn’t exactly have a lot to work with in our apartment.
“Like the pentagram?” Boice asked, smirking. “We helped.”
I gave him a saccharine smile while surreptitiously flipping him off. “What an incredibly sweet gesture.”
“Only the best for you, boss,” Roice said, snorting.
That was the final straw. I was raising their rent.
“Oh, before I forget,” I said, pulling out my knife. It glowed red in the presence of the twins and Mara, but it still flickered with a bit of purple. “I need you guys to look at my demon-hunting knife. It’s doing weird things.”
A heavy sigh preceded my roomie’s snarky reply. “You want me and my demon brother to help you with your demon-killing knife? Seriously?”
Well, when he put it that way… “Point taken, but it’s flashing weird colors, not just red. We’re taking blue and purple. Any ideas?”
“No. Blue is for celestials. Never heard of demon steel glowing purple,” Roice said with a shrug. “And before you ask, I’ve never heard of a hybrid demon and celestial. Our kinds don’t mix.”
“No celestials here,” I said, waving my hands around. “Unless you’ve got one stashed in the storage closet.”
“Maybe purple’s for aliens,” Boice said helpfully. When I glared, he sighed and shook his head. “I’ll research it.”
“How do you normally summon Hannah?” Mara asked, getting us back on track.
“With my black mirror,” I replied, fishing it out from between the girls. It felt strange in my fingers, cold and devoid of any tangible power. Normally I could sense the demon energy coursing through it under my fingertips, a pulsing power that grew stronger as I prepared to unleash Hannah. Now I felt…nothing. Come to think of it, I hadn’t felt anything since being dragged back from my all-night drunken summoner chasing the night before.
Come on, Hannah. Give me a break, will you?
Would she cooperate, or was she determined to hold out on me until we both got sucked into the hell realm?
“Wait, that’s weird,” I said, examining my black mirror more closely. The obsidian gleamed in the glow of candlelight. But the black core in that normally reflected the demon sparks floating in my irises was now marred by a white streak. The streak bulged in the center and tapered at either end.
Roice leaned closer to examine it. “What the hell is that? I told you to stop drawing vaginas on all your stuff.”
I shoved him away. “I didn’t do this. What does this mean?”
Mara scooted over to look, her gorgeous gaze widening in alarm.
A wave of panic and dread threatened to engulf me. “What?” I asked, my voice an octave higher than usual. “What’s wrong?”
Mara shook her head and said, “Try calling her.”
I closed my eyes and worked to get my breathing under control. I didn’t know how many more surprises I could take. My heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. After a moment, I focused my energy and reached deep within, seeking, calling, and pleading as I fought against the unthinkable.
“Hannah.” My voice came out as a harsh whisper. “Can you hear me? Please come out.”
Nothing. The feeling of unease that had followed me all day, that sense of emptiness, it all made sense now. My eyes stung, and I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat. Warm arms enveloped me—Mara’s, I thought, though I sensed Boice and Roice come closer, drawn by my uncharacteristic display of grief and sorrow.
“No,” I said. “No, this can’t be happening.”
“What the hell, Jinx?” a voice said—Boice’s.
“She’s gone.” The void of anguish threatened to swallow me whole. “Hannah’s gone.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I only thought I’d felt like crap yesterday morning. Boy, was I wrong.
Compared to this morning, yesterday was a dream. If only I could go back and have my future self tell my past self that I was a fool. I should’ve seized the day and done something fun, something exciting, something useful—some combination of Back to the Future and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. With only one day to go until I lost my soul, with the added bonus of a prophecy of doom hanging over my head, we’d lost the rogue summoner, all our leads, and my personal demon.
This was the most sucktastic Sunday ever.
Seriously, stuff like this was only supposed to happen on Mondays.
I thought about hitting the tequila again, but that would be counterproductive. It would also reflect poorly on my image as a budding midlevel manager. D had shown up sometime during the night. He’d climbed into bed with me and held me close, like he’d done when we were kids. No demands, no frisky business, he was j
ust…there for me. When I needed him.
I had a sneaking suspicion he was hanging out in my closet again. He needed more space. He was a big boy now.
Maybe I could leave him my apartment in my will. He could have full run of the place.
Shaking off that unpleasant thought, I rolled over and wrapped my body around his, reveling in the sensation while I could. In spite of my fears and doubts about him, his presence soothed. It anchored me and gave me strength to face the obstacles ahead. But I had questions for him. Given the nature of those questions, I might unravel the fragile strands of trust I’d woven between us.
But I still needed to ask.
“What’s on your mind?” he said, his voice deeper with the remnants of sleep.
“How did you know I had something on my mind?” I snuggled closer, holding him tighter.
He chuckled. “I know you. You only hold me tight enough to cut off my circulation when you’re worried.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, what could I possibly be worried about?” I asked, rolling over and putting my index finger to my chin, miming deep contemplation.
He rolled over, too, and landed on top of me. I was about to get excited, but instead of pinning me with his body weight in an effort to ravish me senseless, he pinned me down so he could dig his fingers into my ribs, tickling me until I dissolved in a fit of giggles that had tears streaming down my face.
“Say uncle.” He granted me a brief reprieve to catch my breath and voice my surrender. Like I would give him the satisfaction.
I started to hyperventilate, my breaths coming in short bursts that deprived my body and brain of much-needed oxygen. He loosened his hold on me by a fraction, and I used it to my advantage. I snaked a hand down between our bodies and caught his impressive manly bits, causing him to gasp in surprise, scowl, and then grin in the space of a split second.
“Sucker.” I smirked as he let go of me. “You fell for the oldest trick in the book.”
He smiled down at me, his gaze playful and brimming with sensual interest. “You’re the one touching my junk. Who’s the sucker now?”
Oh my God, he was right. He did know me well, along with my inner brazen hussy. I thought about suspending my Q and A session in favor of a hot and heavy tumble on the bed session, but he stilled my hand, much to my disappointment.
“What’s on your mind?” His firm tone brooked no argument.
I let go, and he rolled off me to sit up on my comfy mattress. I sat up, too, dread replacing the all-too-brief sensation of carefree playfulness. D and I never seemed to catch a break.
I sat up and started fidgeting with the hem of my tank top. “I need to ask you some questions, but I’m afraid you’ll be mad at me when I do.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair before scrubbing his face. “I didn’t kill him,” he said.
Wow, that was easier than I’d expected. “Wait, how did you know what I was going to ask?”
He gave me a sad smile. “How could you not ask? I would’ve been angry if you hadn’t. You can’t hold back in this investigation, Jane. The stakes are too high. Question anyone and everyone, including me.”
A wave of relief and gratitude filled me. He was being reasonable, so earnest. And he was answering questions. In fact, he was more than open, more than willing—he seemed eager, like a man in desperate need of confession and absolution. Maybe I should work in a few more questions while he was in the mood.
“How much demon magic do you have?” I asked. Before he could cut me off, I said, “Not the regular magic tempters use, but the powerful, high demon magic that can destroy a body from the inside out. I need to know what kind of entity killed Keith Pendergrass. He was exsanguinated without a mark on his body.”
I gulped before I voiced my next thought, the pain of last night washing over me anew. I gripped the covers, wrapping my grandma’s quilt protectively around my legs and wishing I could use something similar to bandage my aching heart. “And I need to know what kind of entity could’ve taken Hannah. That would take some powerful demon magic, too.”
Assuming she’d been taken. I didn’t want to face the fact that she might have left voluntarily. I had a habit of making people leave. First my dad, then D—even though he’d explained that one and was here now, the insecurity lingered—and now Hannah. When I needed her most, she’d vanished.
He’d gotten up off the bed and now stood over me. Two fingers lifted my chin. “I don’t think she was taken.” His words confirmed my worst fear. I must’ve flinched, since he gripped my chin tighter, forcing me to hold his gaze rather than turn away. “And I don’t think she abandoned you out of spite or fear or anger. I think she’s trying to help you. I think she wants to protect you.”
I sat up as disbelief morphed into a tiny sliver of hope. Could it be? How?
“Wait,” I said, holding up a finger as a thought occurred to me. “How could she just leave? She’s never done it before, and my black mirror holds her to me and allows me to contain her and summon her when I need her help. And anyway, separation is supposed to be lethal for both of us.”
D quirked a brow and gave me a look that seemed suspiciously like do-you-seriously-believe-that. “Do you really think a demon as powerful as Hannah could be held by that little trinket around your neck? Especially since she’s somehow figured out her identity as the Intercessor?”
He had a point. I’d told him a bit about the text Sam and Trinity translated—the part about the Arbiter and the Intercessor holding the keys to the outcome of some future war of apocalyptic proportions—but what was I supposed to think?
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “The boss told me it would, and until now, it has. What else could get her to work with me to track demons?”
He held up his palms in apparent surrender. “The Arbiter found you when you were young and vulnerable, just like the rest of your crew. He told you what he wanted you to believe and what you wanted to hear. I don’t blame you,” he said before his gaze turned hard. “But you’re not a young, vulnerable girl anymore. You’re a seasoned tracker. You need to think for yourself, trust your gut and instincts instead of trusting your so-called boss.”
So-called boss? The guy paid me. That made him more than a so-called boss. But maybe D was right. Maybe he really was more like a mob boss than a legit businessman, especially if he’d known more about Hannah and her true identity than he was saying.
Duh, of course he was. But I’d always figured him for an honest boss. A scary, surly, garden-variety asshole of a boss, but an honest one.
“Do you think the boss set me up with Murkowski? You think he had something to do with Hannah’s awakening and is trying to use it to his advantage?” I asked. “He’s a demon. Would he benefit from a hell realm war?”
D started pacing. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s in league with Belial. That’s not the way the rebel demon lord operates. He negotiates, persuades, works to make his recruits come willingly because they believe the rebellion is just and righteous. The Arbiter would see right through that kind of scheme—he’s a master of those tactics himself.”
I studied D as he talked. He moved with the unconscious grace of a warrior, a soldier. He stood straight and paced with even steps, muscles rolling with practiced ease as he walked. Though seemingly lost in concentration, I would bet every last dollar in my dwindling bank account that he was keeping an eye on every corner of my room, every nook and cranny, just as he’d done while on the hunt for the rogue summoner.
Wow, what if he was the warrior—as in The Warrior—the one who could defeat battling armies of demons and angels? I’d add that to my list of questions to ask after I got an answer about his magic. The two had to be related. The Warrior would have to have a boatload of magic to take on two realms.
“Back to my question.” I struggled to concentrate on the task at hand rather than how much I enjoyed ogling the fine male specimen in front of me. “Aside from your demon associates who specia
lize in detecting advanced magic—where were they last night, by the way?—and your uncanny ability to secure rogue summoners in hiding and observe yours truly, a seasoned demon tracker, in an alley without my noticing, do you know high demon magic? Do you practice it?”
He stopped pacing and gave me his pissed-off demon look. “I told you. That’s classified.”
“So much for questioning anyone and everyone, including you,” I said, giving him my best pissed-off demon hunter look. “If you’re going to help me, cut the shit and help me.”
“Fine,” he said, growling. “I know high demon magic. I’m a decent practitioner. That’s how I escaped from him.”
Before I could blink, he was gone. I jumped off the bed, heart racing, as I scanned the room. He’d vanished. Just as suddenly, he reappeared in front of me. His body remained tense, but a hint of a grin curled the corners of his lips. Clearly, he’d been trying to impress me.
He’d succeeded.
I wondered what else he could do, other than materialize across a room and conceal himself from demon trackers. Could he travel through the space-time continuum? That would be cool. Or maybe he could read minds or tell when people or other demons were lying. That’d be handy. I bet he knew some good card tricks, too.
If I lived through this, I’d have to take him to Vegas. We’d make a fortune.
“Where’d you learn it?” I asked.
“You’re down to your last question,” he said, turning away, but not before I caught a glimpse of the hard line of his jaw. If he clenched it any tighter, he’d crack his back molars. “Sure you want to squander it on that?”
“Maybe,” I said. “If it’ll help me solve this case and live long enough to pick up where we left off, then yes. If it helps me crack through your shell and get close to you again, then that would be a definite yes.”
He braced his hands against the thick panes of my large bedroom window, leaning as if fighting some battle within himself. I wanted to go to him, to wrap my arms around him and either hold him or shake him until he came to his senses and told me the truth.
Catching Hell Page 20
