“Jess, what’s up?”
I swatted at a few imps, adjusting the phone to my ear. “I had an idea. It’s not too late to call, is it?”
“Not for you, and not if it’s about the case. I’ve been cozying up with my TV. Go for it.”
“All right, you need a motive. I think I have one, and a suspect.” I still couldn’t share the specifics about why Angelia might be a target, but Dezzi’s compulsion had no effect on the rest of my theory. I laid it out for Andre, keeping a careful eye on the imps.
He was silent for a moment after I finished talking. “There’s something to that. I had no idea you were on such good terms with some satyrs.”
Alas, because I couldn’t give specifics about Angelia, in order to lend credence to my theory, I’d felt the need to share what I could about my role in potentially ruining the satyrs’ reputation. “It’s a long, weird story. But you think the idea has merit?”
“It’s a new lead and something we can work with. We’re stuck unless we can prove there’s something to those marks you found, but I don’t see why we can’t bring Devon in for questioning. Even if it’s not him, doing that might light a fire under the satyrs and get us some more cooperation. You up for it?”
“What, now?”
Andre laughed. “Normally I’d say first thing tomorrow morning, but this is tomorrow morning when you’re dealing with preds. They’re nocturnal, so we are too. Come on—you had something better to do at ten o’clock on a Wednesday night?”
“Not anymore.”
“That’s the spirit. See? You’re a natural at this Gryphon stuff. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week—it’s the job that never ends, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
I was glad he couldn’t see my face. Once, I’d have agreed, but that ship had sailed and sunk. “Devon said he was heading to Purgatory to do some work. The club’s closed.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you there. Give me about forty-five minutes.”
“Do we need backup?”
“For this? Nah. I know about Devon. He’ll come quietly then sic his high-powered addict lawyer on us. Won’t be the first time.”
I laughed once, not amused. “Great. See you then.”
After Andre hung up, I ran into Lucen’s apartment and grabbed a light jacket. On my way out, my phone rang. Assuming it was Andre, I picked up without looking as I hurried toward the Shadowtown T station.
It wasn’t Andre. “Is this Jessica? It’s Ben from the computer store.”
“Ben! Yeah, this is Jess. Hold on a sec.” A train pulled out of the station going in the wrong direction. Once the noise died down, I checked to see who was around, but I was alone. “Did you find anything else?”
Ben coughed. “Sort of. Here’s where I confess that I didn’t see their protections coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“They had some kind of fail-safe. I finally got into the files through brute force, and that triggered it. I got that strange French message I sent you earlier. Then the files, kind of, uh, self-destructed. But all is not lost, I swear. I am as good as advertised.”
Light shown down the track, and I closed my eyes in despair. “What’s not lost, and can you make this quick? My train’s about to arrive.”
“Yeah, sure. Bottom lining it—I restored what I could, and it’s some freaky shit. I’m going to email it all to you. I think you’ll find what’s there interesting.”
My shoulders relaxed. I was certain I would, and wished I had the chance to go check my email. But the Gryphons’ secrets would have to wait. What annoying timing. “Great, thanks, Ben.”
Stuffing my phone away, I hopped on the train. It was an agonizing trip. All I wanted to do was take the phone right back out again and open Ben’s email, but that would be a bad idea. I didn’t know what I’d find in those files, but “freaky shit” probably covered it. It wasn’t something I should read in public, particularly before I was about to meet with a Gryphon to do the extremely uncomfortable task of bringing Devon in for questioning. I needed my head on straight, my brain focused.
That was a lot easier said than done.
Although Purgatory was closed, several other clubs up and down the strip were open. The train had filled as we approached the right stop, and I got off with a group of dolled-up twenty-somethings. I wondered who these people were who didn’t have to worry about going into work hungover the next day. They definitely weren’t Purgatory’s crowd. There was a serious lack of vinyl and fishnet, and far too many designer shoes and preppy pants.
I outpaced the trendy club-hoppers, several of whom were drenched in perfume and cologne, and soon stood outside Purgatory’s locked doors. A lone light illuminated the entrance, and Andre was nowhere in sight. Thudding bass from a club across the street pounded in my head.
Giving in to temptation at last, I took out my phone. I would not check my email, just the time.
And my voicemail. My phone must have rung on the train, and I hadn’t heard it.
I punched in the number, and Andre’s voice appeared in my ear. Quickly, I scurried around the corner of the club so I could hear better.
“Jess, I’m on my way, running late, sorry. I had someone at HQ check on a few things for me. Apparently, Devon is one very trusted lieutenant. Dezzi frequently sends him to take care of business with us on her behalf. Most Doms are loath to do that sort of thing, so it’s interesting, but I don’t know what it means. Second point—you brought up Devon being the owner of Purgatory. Actually, he’s only listed as the co-owner, for what that’s worth. He owns the business jointly with Dezzi’s second, Lucrezia. Anyway, no need to call me back. It’s ten thirty now. I should be there in another twenty.”
I hung up. So that’s what Lucrezia did for a living. I’d often wondered. One mystery solved, just not the one that needed solving.
I gazed wistfully at my email, then checked the clock. If he was accurate, Andre should be here in another ten minutes. That was a long time to make myself behave and not open Ben’s message.
Or it would have been. With no warning, something cold and hard that felt suspiciously like a gun barrel pressed against my back. I guessed I no longer had to worry about losing focus.
My heart missed a beat, even as my brain rejoiced that I must have been correct about my theory. This was definitely not the time for gloating.
“Hands in the air,” said a gruff, male voice. He grabbed the phone from me and nudged me with the gun. “Back door. Move.”
I peeked around my shoulder because this guy was clearly not Devon. “Yes, sir,” I muttered, probably because my assailant looked military. He was only an inch or two taller than me with buzzed, graying hair. But damn was he thick. He wore a tight green shirt that proudly displayed a barrel chest and bulging biceps.
He was also a lust addict. Not a shocker.
The addict poked me harder with the gun. I started walking, not sure where I was supposed to go but figuring the back of the building was a good start.
My pounding heart replaced the incessant bass from across the street as the loudest noise in my head. Shit.
Think, Jess.
I’d taught self-defense courses. I’d beaten the crap out of Victor Aubrey not even a month ago. I carried a damn salamander-forged knife I’d stolen from a fucked-up fury bar. For the love of dragons, I should be able to take care of myself.
Except no one had ever held me at gunpoint before. I knew what I taught others to do in this situation, but I was not feeling badass at the moment. Self-defense rule number one was always the same—pay attention to your surroundings so you’re less likely to put yourself in situations where you’ll get in trouble.
Oops.
I wet my lips, hoping it wasn’t too late to atone for my lack of awareness. I still had Misery at my hip, but I wasn’t stupid enough to make a go for it. Don’t
bring a knife to a gunfight—not just a rule, but a cliché.
My attacker moved silently behind me, his feet scarcely making a sound as we traipsed over the gravel-strewn asphalt. No wonder I hadn’t heard him sneak up on me. This guy was good. Maybe a professional.
Eyes open wide, I pushed the panic inside deep into my gut. Strong fear provided an excellent high, but combining it with my own adrenaline could be too much. It could make me reckless, and I couldn’t afford stupidity.
Finally, we turned the corner around the back of the club. A single, sleek sports car was parked there, but I didn’t recognize it. Farther down the lot, a foul stench rose from the dumpsters, and empty liquor cartons sat in a pile. A shadow flickered around one of them, and a flash of orange light illuminated a disturbingly large dragon. It sneezed a second time, producing an even weaker flame, and disappeared behind the trash.
To my right was the club and a narrow, utilitarian deck that ran along the back. Halfway down the deck, a door opened and another lust addict stepped out. He must have flicked on a light switch because suddenly the back of the building lit up.
“Hurry up,” the second guy said. He was built a lot like the first, and as I was forced up the stairs onto the deck, I realized he looked a lot like the first too.
Interesting, but really not what I should be paying attention to at this point.
“Go,” the gun guy said.
“I’m moving as fast as I can,” I lied.
He grunted in response.
As we reached the door, guy number two stole Misery from its sheath. I gritted my teeth.
“Inside.” He was also armed, a large gun sticking out of a shoulder holster. I didn’t know anything about guns, but it looked mean. Then again, so did he. I hadn’t been too optimistic about my chances of devising a brilliant escape before, but I was far less optimistic now.
I took a couple steps inside the building and discovered I was in the club’s kitchen. Stainless steel and white walls blinded me after so much time in the darkness outside.
Guy number two shut the back door and turned off the switch by it. His companion never wavered, the gun barrel still pressing into me.
My stomach was in knots, but I did my best to hide the fear in my voice. “Is that really necessary? It’s not like I’m going to run.”
Neither of them answered. Apparently I was dealing with the strong, silent type.
“Fine. Now what?” I asked.
Guy number two motioned with my knife. “Into the main room. Let’s go.”
I had no idea where to go, but he led the way. After a few turns through a side of Purgatory I had yet to explore, we entered the main bar. Every footfall echoed off the walls and ceiling. The club’s lights were on but dim, and a red haze hung over the dance floor. Someone had created mood lighting. Swell.
Scowling, I stretched my neck, searching the bar area for Devon since the floor was empty.
I didn’t find him. I found someone else.
“I warned you earlier. You really do get underfoot, pet.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lucrezia emerged from around the far side of the bar. For once, she didn’t look like she was sucking a lemon. She looked pleased.
Figured it would have to be at my expense.
She waved one manicured finger at the men, and the gun barrel stopped poking me in the spine. Guy number two handed my knife and phone to Lucrezia, while number one holstered his weapon.
She turned off my phone and tossed both objects on a table. “Adorable, aren’t they? John and Jay—they’re brothers, ex-special forces and my personal security detail when needed. There’s a delicious wickedness to having them both, sometimes at once. I love a man in uniform unless it’s Gryphon black. Don’t you, pet?”
“Can’t say I care one way or another.” The longer Lucrezia droned on about her magically stolen love life, the longer I had to find a way out of this disaster. My gaze roamed over the empty club, but scanning the area and finding an idea weren’t the same thing at all.
“No, that’s true. You like your men to be satyrs. Powerful ones.”
If I grabbed a chair or knocked a table over and made a lunge at Lucrezia, would her addict goons actually shoot me? The fact that she hadn’t had them do it yet suggested not. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk it. Not while I had questions, and not while my fate was uncertain.
“Only one satyr,” I said, trying to pretend as though I wasn’t contemplating methods for bashing her head in.
She laughed. “I don’t think so. There’s something different about you, you and your weird satyr-like gift, and they’re all fascinated by it. Personally, I don’t understand, but I’ve always been hopelessly mainstream about what attracts me.” She ran a nail down Guy One’s biceps to illustrate the point.
The enthralled look on her addict’s face made my already unhappy gut twist in disgust. “Stop playing with your food. Where’s Devon?”
Lucrezia perched on the edge of a table. “Devon’s not here. When I heard that you planned on coming by, I asked him to run an errand for me and told him I’d handle the paperwork he had to do. It’s just the four of us, pet. For now.”
“What do you mean for now?”
Lucrezia clucked her tongue. “A bit late to be playing coy, don’t you think?”
“I’m not playing.” It was the truth, mostly. My brain was piecing everything together, but I had missing chunks. Besides, getting Lucrezia to talk was keeping me alive. “The four people who succumbed to the curse here—obviously you drew the glyphs on them at the club. The ones who died in Newton—I’m guessing you were the surprise we were told was supposed to be at the party. You stopped by the victims’ house to put glyphs on everyone.”
“Yes, and the same with the last two. It was so very easy, in case you were wondering.”
Her careless tone disgusted me as much as it fed my anger. “What about Devon? Was he working with you to frame Angelia, or was it you alone?”
“Just me.” She pursed her lips, examining me from head to toe. If I wasn’t so insensitive to most pred magic these days, I’d probably be able to feel her power probing my soul. “You can thank your boyfriend for this. Lucen mentioned your latest theory about Angelia being framed during our talk at The Lair tonight. I knew you weren’t entirely stupid given how you put together the way what’s-his-face Aubrey framed you, but I figured it was mostly luck. You’re annoyingly lucky.”
I hoped she could sense how stupid I thought her comment was. “Yeah, so lucky I’m stuck here with you at gunpoint. How did you know I was coming here?”
“Honestly, pet. You’ve seen my work with the glyphs and how they interact with F. You should know I’m wicked good at magic. A nice little distraction charm on me while you were on the phone with your Gryphon partner, and you never noticed how close I stood during the call. Speaking of which…” She pointed at Guy One. “Her partner should be arriving any moment. Go keep watch and bring him to me as soon as he gets here.”
My heart sank. That must have been what Lucrezia meant by us being alone “for now”. Not only had my stupidity gotten me in trouble, it was going to get Andre in trouble too. And possibly dead.
“Poor you.” Lucrezia smirked, clearly getting a read on my despair and guilt. “So upset. Don’t worry, I’ll let you give your partner the best last hour of his life any man could hope for.”
I bit down my surge of rage because Lucrezia wasn’t the only one picking up on my thoughts. Guy Two must have noticed me getting squirrelly. His hand hovered by his holster.
Taking a deep breath, I inched to the right. My best shot was now, without Guy One in the room. If I could get close enough to my knife, it might be worth the risk to make a go for Lucrezia.
“So why?” I asked, aiming to distract them both. “I get why Devon might want Dezzi gone, but not
you.”
“But that’s the thing, pet. Devon doesn’t want Dezzi gone. He doesn’t mind being her lieutenant, and she gives him enough authority that he doesn’t care about getting more power. He’s pathetically loyal to her in spite of the poor decisions she’s made. But someone had to step in and put a stop to it.”
I slid a hairsbreadth closer to the table. The addict watched me like a hawk. “Is this because of Angelia?”
“You, Angelia, you again. Mostly you, to be honest. First she drags us into conflict with the sylphs because of you. Now she’s letting you run around with Lucen after the Gryphons claimed you. It makes us appear vulnerable, and it makes us vulnerable in truth.”
“Wow, and all this time I thought the reason you disliked me so much was because you couldn’t stand not being the prettiest woman in the room.” I inched a little closer to my goal.
Lucrezia rolled her eyes. “Honestly, pet. You really can’t control your tongue, can you?”
“Nope. Some guys like that about me.”
“Some guys would.” Lucrezia motioned to her goon, and he stepped between me and the table. Dragon shit on toast. She must have sensed I was up to something. “There’s dissension within our domus, and at the same time the furies are up to no good. We don’t know what their aim is, but we don’t have time for Dezzi to play at being a benevolent den mother. We need a Dom who’s watching out for us and going on the offensive. And let me tell you, if Devon won’t be the leader we need to do that, then I’ll petition the Upper Council for the position myself.”
“Consider me shocked by your kindness. The way you care for your fellow satyrs is touching. And to think, you only had to kill a dozen humans to do it.”
Lucrezia slipped off the table. “A dozen plus two. Our company has arrived.”
Wincing, I glanced over my shoulder. Guy One must have successfully gotten the jump on Andre like he had on me.
Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) Page 25
