Sins of the Flesh (Half-Breed Series Book 2)

by Debra Dunbar

  I squirmed against Irix’s back “Stop. I recognize this guy.” And he was going to get himself killed. What the hell was the man from the beach fire doing here?

  Irix growled low, his arm around my legs tightening. “Not my problem. I’m not going after him.”

  “Stop, damn it.” I smacked his back. “It’s the same guy from the beach. And he’s carrying a big bag.”

  Irix stopped and turning to look. I twisted my back, peering around the demon’s side. For the first time, I realized how we must look. The other restaurant patrons were wet and dirty too, but they weren’t being carried by a naked man.

  Under the parking-lot lights, I could see much better than I had been able to on the beach. The man had the kind of tan leathery skin that comes from decades of working outdoors. His clothing clung to him, damp with sweat. As he neared the blaze, he pulled an object from a bag and tossed it into the fire – something the size of a melon. The servant reached a curl of flame towards the man as the firefighters shouted for him to get back.

  He obeyed, walking slowly backward while tossing items toward the column of red-orange fire. Stepping over a brown lump in the road, he threw the remaining contents of the bag on the ground and hurried further away. The fire-being consumed the lump on the ground then vanished into a puff of smoke. All that was left was what appeared to be a natural fire, burning the remains of the shopping center.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  Irix was still holding me over his shoulder. I’d watched the entire thing upside down, but thought what the man had thrown looked like... pineapples?

  “I have no idea.” Irix responded slowly. He shifted his grip and gently set me down. “Did that guy just make the fire servant go away with pineapples?”

  “It was the man from the beach bonfire that first night, the only one of the partiers who stayed to try and put the fire out before it spread.”

  That first night. He hadn’t been a responsible-acting partier, and that fire hadn’t been just a drunken party seized by the fire servant. It was the first fire. And our beach bonfire guy was our mage.

  Chapter 20

  If he’s our mage, then we need to follow him.” Irix said.

  “Wait.” I ran and kicked the charred lump, frowning as I saw soft pulp in a spiny husk. It was a pineapple. The man really had been throwing pineapples into the fire. As bizarre as that idea was, it made sense. I knew that food was often used as an offering to the lord and lady in Wiccan rituals, and I assumed it would be just as likely in ceremonial magic. So, from what I’d just seen, I could assume that pineapples had satisfied the fire servant and had sent it back. But what would satisfy the servant’s mistress?

  I’d need to puzzle that one out later. Right now, Irix and I needed to make sure our suspected mage, the man who’d somehow appeased a fire being with a pineapple, didn’t likewise vanish before our eyes.

  I jogged to keep the man in sight while Irix went to get our car, snatching a blanket from the fire truck on his way. As Irix pulled up beside me, I saw the man hop into a small white car and head south of Lahaina.

  “What’s this?” I picked a small box off the dashboard as Irix pulled out after the white car.

  “While you were in the bathroom, one of the waiters told me someone had hit our car. I went out to see what was going on, and that was on the dashboard. The car didn’t have any damage, and I didn’t want to leave you alone in the restaurant too long, so I didn’t bother to open it.”

  It was weird that Irix would care about the condition of a stolen car, but once he acquired things, he tended to think of them as his. Demons were very possessive about their belongings, and Irix was no exception. I ran my fingers over the glossy, black box. Nothing seemed untoward. It was just a box, and whatever it held wasn’t magical.

  I popped the lid and nearly lost my temper. Inside was a beautiful braided-leather men’s bracelet with black, pockmarked stones threaded through the band. Lava rocks. I pulled the bracelet from the box and something hit the floor, clinking. Reaching down, I knew exactly what the object was the moment my fingers closed on the angular metal shape.

  A key. No doubt a room key. How ridiculously old-fashioned, since all the good hotels used swipe cards. Not that Cleo really expected Irix to use it – there was no note about which hotel or room number, after all. This gift might have been delivered as if it were for Irix, but it was actually for me. It was a slap in the face. A beautiful personal gift, and an invitation to show me she had every intention of taking what she wanted, even if she had to kill me first.

  “A bracelet?” Irix frowned.

  “Cleo.” I put both items back in the box and tossed the whole mess into the backseat. “Bitch still thinks she’s going to have you. Evidently, you’ll fall in love with her sooner or later, and she’s patient enough to wait centuries while your love grows in the depths of her fiery dungeon.”

  “It’s you I love, Amber. And I can take care of myself.” His hand reached for mine, and he curled my fingers in his. “Do you know how many demons have fancied me? Decided they could possess me through blackmail or force? This Pele-Cleo woman may be a goddess, but she can’t be any more cruel or devious than ancient demons. She can scheme all she wants; she won’t have me.”

  I gripped his hand, reassured. I was just as jealous and possessive as a full demon, but Irix was two-thousand years old. He didn’t need me to fight his battles.

  We followed a careful distance behind as the mage looped around past Iao and into the area of central Maui that was home to thousands of acres of sugarcane. He turned off the main road and drove along a winding stretch that led further into the flat, central section of the island. It was tricky to keep a visual on him on these less-populated roads without tipping him off that we were trailing him. Finally we saw him turn down a gravel road lined on either side with tall trees — tall pineapple trees.

  We parked on the main road. I hopped out and was surprised to see Irix do the same.

  “Umm, hon, you’re naked in a blanket.”

  He looked down then shut the door. “Yes, I am, and you’re wet and covered with dirt and concrete dust. Let’s go.”

  If we had to run, he’d probably ditch the blanket for freedom of movement. So I’d either show up, to possibly question a suspected mage, accompanied by a naked demon or one wrapped in a charred blanket. “Maybe you should stay in the car.”

  Irix crossed his arms, and the blanket hit the ground. “You’re fucking joking. I’m not sitting in the car while you run after a man we suspect woke a dangerous goddess and unleashed a bunch of fire servants on the island.”

  I bit my lip. When Irix dropped the f-bomb, he was really pissed. “What do you think this guy is going to do when a woman covered in concrete dust and a naked man accost him to ask how to appease Pele before the island goes up in smoke? Or she kills me? I’m not going to talk to the guy unless I have to, but he’s more liable to talk if there isn’t a naked guy with me. And I can defend myself.”

  I could, but it involved a lethal level of electricity. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

  The demon huffed and yanked the car door open. “If you’re not back in ten, I’m coming after you.”

  Ten minutes wasn’t much time, so I left him climbing back into the car and took off down the lane, tucking the hem of my long dress into the waistband for better mobility. A quarter mile in, I darted off the road, weaving in and out of the tree grove to stay hidden as I caught up with the white car. It moved at a snail’s pace on the bumpy road, so I slowed to a fast walk and moved from tree to tree in the darkness of the canopy. Turning, the car pulled down a dirt road, which was nearly indistinguishable from the spaces between the trees in the orchard, and rounded a bend to park in front of a one-story ranch-style house.

  The building was in disrepair. Two-by-fours held up the porch roof, and the steps to the door sagged sideways. Paint peeled on the wood exterior, and a blue tarp was nailed to a section of the roof. For a m
agic-user, this guy seemed to be living rather poorly. Perhaps he hadn’t gained the type of magical skills that would increase his income.

  What had he been doing at the fire? Maybe he wasn’t our summoning mage but a Good Samaritan shaman, taking care of a destructive supernatural entity. But then, how could he have known what sort of creature lurked in the fire and how to appease it? I hoped this man could give us a clue on how to put this whole thing to rest. Maui had seen enough fires in the last few days.

  The guy didn’t look like a shaman, or a mage for that matter. I hid behind a dilapidated barn and got a closer look at him. He was thin, his overlong brown hair nearly the same color as his tanned, leathery skin. Popping the trunk on his car, he left it open and walked to the house, limping slightly. Shaking hands opened the front door. Either this guy was coming down from a serious bender or he was scared.

  I voted for scared as I watched through the window while the man scurried about stuffing more pineapples into duffle bags. They didn’t look like particularly healthy pineapples either. Perhaps Cleo’s fire servants didn’t require quality fruit offerings. Loading his arms with bags, the guy headed for the front door, struggling to open it while heavily burdened.

  Should I approach him? We were in the middle of nowhere, a quarter mile from the road. I didn’t exactly have a good excuse to be accosting the man at night outside his house. The whole car-breakdown scenario didn’t seem solid. In an age of cell phones, no one outside a slasher flick would walk a quarter mile through a dark pineapple grove to knock on a ramshackle house for help.

  I made my decision and jumped into the shadow of the barn just as he got the door open and headed to the car. The duffle bags of pineapples went into the trunk, along with something that looked suspiciously like a shotgun.

  Was it ten minutes yet? I held my breath as the man got in and started the car. As funny as it would be for a naked Irix to come running down the driveway at this point, I was hoping my demon stayed stealthy. I wasn’t ready to approach this man and question him in the dark, but I was completely ready to search his house. As soon as he drove off, that is.

  It took a while for him to get the car moving, but eventually he rolled slowly down the bumpy, unpaved drive. Should I wait for Irix? I could try to sense magical energies that might mean the house was warded, but it wasn’t like I did that sort of thing often. It might be best to wait for the more experienced demon to help me. Although the guy didn’t seem like a mage to me. Or a shaman, or even a follower of Wicca. He just seemed like a grungy farmer with a bunch of overripe pineapples in his trunk.

  The porch steps sagged alarmingly as I climbed them, and the door lock gave way to no more than a firm push. Not that the man needed to worry. This hardly looked like a house that someone would plan to rob, even if they managed to find it this far off the road. The door opened to an open-plan main room with a dining area in an oversized kitchen. Hallways to the right and left must lead to bedrooms. There were no stairs, not even a hint of a basement. I’d need to check if there was a cellar with outside-only access, but it looked like a simple layout and a basic, no-frills house so far.

  Using my cell phone for light, I looked around and was immediately overwhelmed by the stacks of papers over every surface. Didn’t this guy ever throw junk mail away? Did he really need the Costco sale flyer from three months ago? The whole thing confused me. I’d expected a mage to have a more organized place full of herbs or spell components, to have a circle or pentagram inscribed on the floor, to have a library of leather-bound grimoires. This guy had nada. Well, nothing beyond fungicide catalogues and a sink full of dirty dishes.

  A light flashed through the front windows. I heard the sound of tires on gravel and panicked, running back and forth in the main room, cell phone in hand. There was nowhere to hide in this damned house. Maybe if I buried myself in a pile of junk mail, he wouldn’t notice me.

  A car door slammed, and I risked a quick glance out the window, hoping Irix had decided to drive up after me rather than jog up the driveway naked. The white car out front dashed my hopes. Had he seen the light from my cell phone? There wasn’t a back door; how the heck was I going to get out undetected?

  I heard steps on the porch as my mind raced through all my defensive capabilities. As the knob turned, I did the first thing that came to mind and launched a stream of pheromones at him like nothing I’d ever done before.

  The door handle stopped moving, and there was a loud thump. My concern for the man warred with my desire to hide. Concern won, and I looked out the window.

  Well, he was alive at least. The man had collapsed and was lying on the decking, moaning and squirming as he tried to dry-hump the two-by-four holding up one corner of the porch. Clearly I’d overdone that one. I dialed back the pheromones, but the man continued his rather alarming erotic display.

  “Well, that was a bit extreme. I think a naked guy at his doorstep would have been a better option than throwing him into an ecstasy loop.”

  I turned. Irix stood beside the white car, neither naked nor wrapped in a blanket. His odd appearance temporarily supplanted my concern over my victim. “What in God’s green earth are you wearing?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Clothing. I stood naked by the side of the road and borrowed it from some humans in a passing car.”

  I knew what Irix’s borrowing entailed, but I was reasonably sure that whatever woman he’d ‘borrowed’ this muumuu from had been completely willing. Hopefully he’d at least reimbursed her in his own special, incubus, way.

  My attention returned to the man whose pants had developed a rather sizable wet spot. “What do I do with him? How can I turn it off?”

  “You’ve already turned it off. It’s just a matter of letting him wear himself out. He’ll be fine in a few hours.”

  I stared at the man, appalled. “A few hours? I’ve never had this happen before.”

  “If you’re going to pour that much pheromone out there, you’ve got to follow up. This is what happens when you crank it up to eleven and don’t fulfill your victim’s fantasy.”

  This was worse than blue balls. “Is there anything I can do for him?”

  Irix shook his head. “Too late. Even if you try to have sex with him now, he won’t respond. Like I said, it’s an ecstasy loop. He won’t hurt himself, and he’ll eventually wear out and take a big nap.”

  I turned away, unable to watch any longer. “I snuck in to search the house, but he came back, and I was trapped inside.”

  “Find anything interesting?”

  “No, but I just started.”

  Irix followed me in and looked around the room. “Then let’s search the house. There might be something under all this junk that gives us some answers.”

  It was a good idea, although the thought of going through this man’s personal possessions while he was writhing around the floor of his porch seemed a bit wrong. Irix didn’t think twice and headed to a cheap oak-laminate desk. He sorted through papers while I tackled the man’s bedroom.

  Messy bed. Clothes on the floor. Empty beer bottle beside the alarm clock on the nightstand. Girly mags next to the bed. It was a typical guy’s room, reminding me of my brother Wyatt’s when he’d been in high school. I went to the second bedroom and found it was used as a storage room. Plastic tubs and cardboard boxes were stacked in a corner along with a surfboard and an assortment of car parts. Or maybe tractor parts. The only thing I recognized was an alternator.

  I returned to find Irix rooting through a checkbook.

  “Hey, is that really necessary?” I felt guilty about going through the man’s personal finances. Searching his house for a grimoire was one thing, eyeing how much he paid for cable was another.

  “Yes, it is.” Irix waved a stack of papers at me. “Dennis Hayworth bought this farm five years ago, and it’s been hemorrhaging money ever since.”

  I looked out the door at the man. He was sound asleep. “So? Farms are a tight-margin business. What does his lack of s
uccess have to do with his knowledge of supernatural entities?”

  “Because his lack of success ended a few days ago.”

  I shook my head, not understanding. “Like a huge deposit in his checking account? Maybe he sold his crop. Maybe he made a deal with a demon. I’ll admit, the timing is suspicious, but without anything else... .”

  “Here.” Irix thrust the papers into my hand. “There’s something very unusual that happened with this farm.”

  It was a lab report from a leaf sample. Anthracnose. I winced. “It’s a disease caused by the fungus Colletotrichum ananas. I wouldn’t expect to see that here, since it’s mainly caused by high humidity and doesn’t usually appear on the leaves until later in the summer. Still, it’s treatable. It would probably take out this year’s harvest, but with appropriate intervention, the trees should recover and produce next year.”

  “With previous years of losses, maybe he couldn’t afford to wait for the treatment.”

  I nodded, reading the papers. “Ugh. This isn’t a new development. It seems the trees started showing signs two years ago, and the standard treatment isn’t working. Over half his grove is infected.”

  “Sounds like a solid motive to me.”

  But motive for what? I could completely see Dennis Hayworth would want to cure something that could destroy his entire pineapple farm, but why call on a volcano goddess and her fire servants for a fungus?

  I moved a stack of papers aside, sat on the cluttered sofa and read the lab reports.

  “The question” —Irix said as he sorted through a stack of books— “is what would a farmer call on if he needed to cure a diseased grove of trees?”

  “An elf? Certainly not Pele.” I’ll admit my tone was acerbic, but I’d just driven a man to hump his porch support and was digging through his personal belonging as he lay outside sleeping. “I can’t speak for Mr. Hayworth, but I wouldn’t turn to a temperamental fire goddess for agricultural help.”