by J. D. Brown
Officer McClearance-Card turned a rosy shade of pink as her mouth curved into a grin. She must’ve had experience with beautiful men, though, because she didn’t completely melt into a puddle.
Lyn looked away and cleared her throat.
Hart turned a stern gaze on Lyn, and she could practically see the wheels turning in the officer’s mind as she mentally ticked the boxes: Blonde, check. Blue eyes, check. Between five-foot-five and five-foot-ten, check. Early twenties, double check. Lyn’s description fit the M.O. perfectly. “Conway, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” said Lyn. She moved a step closer to Sam, playing the part of the victim as she clung to the demon. Damn, he was warm. His volcanic core radiated heat like, well, someone who was forged in the pits of Hell. She had no idea where Sam was going with this con, but at least they hadn’t been arrested yet.
Hart nodded. “Have a seat. I’ll get the detective.”
Lyn waited until Hart was out of earshot. Then she dropped her hands to her sides and faced the demon. “Real smooth, Tex. Just what the heck am I supposed to do when the detective gets here?”
Sam dragged his fingertips over the nearest wall as he located the aforementioned seats and lowered into one. Jesus Christ, was he really blind or not? It was driving her crazy that she didn’t know for sure. She thought of asking Gran and a ping of heartbreak went through her.
Sam flinched and rubbed his chest. “Make up some story about how a stranger tried to convince you to join his cult. If the detective asks for details, cry.”
“I can’t cry on demand.”
“You can. Just think of your great-grandmother.”
Lyn’s face went hot all over. If they hadn’t been in the lobby of a police station, she would have throat-punched him.
Sam scrubbed at his sternum and grinned. “That’s it. Channel that anger.”
“And just what will you be doing while I’m putting on a show for the detective?”
“He’ll most likely bring the file with him, don’t you think? Maybe you’ll be able to glimpse something helpful, but I’ll be watching just in case. I’ll find where his desk is located, which drawer he opens. Then I’ll come back tonight and steal it like you wanted.”
“Great. Just one problem; I thought you were blind.”
“I am,” he said quietly. “In this dimension.”
“Huh?”
“Miss Conway?”
Lyn turned away from Sam and came face to face with a gorgeous specimen of a man in a blue suit. Now that’s what a cop is supposed to look like.
Intelligent brown eyes scanned her as he extended a hand in greeting. “I’m Detective Noah Jackson. Please, join me in my office.”
“I’ll join you anywhere,” Lyn blurted.
The detective chuckled. “This way.”
Lyn couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at Sam. He sat still as a statue, hands in his lap, his unseeing gaze pinned straight ahead. Jackson looked at him too.
“Will your cousin be okay waiting here?”
Lyn wanted to scoff. Instead, she drew a breath and reminded herself that no one else could see what she saw. No one else noticed the brimstone burning beneath Sam’s flesh. No one else was transfixed by the inky black color of his veins or the ominous endless void in his cold dead eyes. All they saw was a handsome young man robbed by a tragic disability. They would underestimate him. They would all underestimate him.
Lyn nodded as she answered the detective’s question. “It’s not him I’m worried about.”
Sam waited as Lyn disappeared into a hallway with Detective Jackson. The detective had an effect on her, and with their intrusive connection … Sam scowled at his lap. It would be several minutes before he could stand without embarrassing himself.
“Is it all right if I get some air while I wait?” he asked the woman behind the counter.
“Be my guest.” Her mouth—a stain of red from this distance—curved into a grin. Sam’s gaze lingered. He couldn’t help noticing her guilt. It sat thickly in her womb. Some sins were easier to hide than others, but in this case the fruits of her infidelity would live and breathe. Sam wondered if he should say anything to ease her mind. There was a time when he would have helped.
No. Not my problem. He knew better than to be distracted right now. Besides, Lyn’s impromptu mission was distraction enough. Sam adjusted himself then stood and exited the building.
He stalked to the side of the entrance and leaned casually against the front wall facing the street. After a good five minutes chewing on his nails and being as boring as possible, Sam strolled to the back of the building where he figured Lyn and the detective might be. No one followed him.
He waved his hand through the air, calling forth the veil of this dimension. A tear opened in the tissue-thin ether, and Lyn’s blurry figure appeared on the other side. She sat at a table across from Jackson in what appeared to be a conference room, if his vision could be trusted. Her pink lips moved, but he couldn’t hear what they said. He would have to step through the portal to make their voices audio, but they would see him if he did. Instead, he used the portal as a window. His blurred vision left Sam unable to read their facial expressions, but he could feel Lyn’s emotions and that would have to be enough. Alongside her ever-present anger was a mixture of nerves and frustration.
Her nervousness interested him most, though he couldn’t say why. The blue of her eyes kept darting to a specific spot on the table. Sam squinted and realized there was a very thin item resting in the center. Something flat. Perhaps the file.
He used both hands to position the portal over the room’s ceiling and looked down. He zoomed in as close as he could without touching the table. The object in the center rose to greet him with flat manila edges that he could see more clearly. But was it the suicides file? The tiny text written on the tab meant nothing to Sam. He silently cursed his limitation.
A large hand grabbed the file and took it away.
Sam zoomed out in time to watch Jackson leave the room with the file in hand. He re-adjusted the position of the portal to face the hallway. Jackson went to a private office with glass walls. Sliding the riff over one, he watched as Jackson dropped the file on top of a cluttered desk.
A sudden jolt of anxiety shook Sam. Without thinking, he slammed the portal shut and took a step back. Breathing hard, he glanced around and found himself standing behind the police station, still alone.
Well, that was stupid. Lyn’s feelings must’ve pulled him out of his concertation.
He drew a steady breath and re-opened the portal in Jackson’s office, but the detective and the file were both gone. He doubled back to the conference room, but it was empty. This time, Sam’s worry was his own. He searched the corridor leading to the maze of desks behind the reception counter. When she wasn’t there, he checked the lobby. Sam nearly missed Jackson thanking Lyn for her time as she slipped through the main entrance.
Relieved, Sam closed the portal and walked around the building to meet her. As he neared the front, he noticed a young woman standing next to Lyn’s car. She looked human, except Sam could see her with perfect clarity—long thick chocolate hair, bright brown eyes, a lean frame she wore with confidence—which suggested she wasn’t human at all. There was no demon beneath the woman’s bronze exterior—not even a Lesser demon—but nor could he see any signs of an angel. Sam ducked into the shadows and pressed his back against a wall.
What in the three Realms?
“Angie,” Lyn called out while approaching her vehicle. “What are you doing here?”
Sam narrowed his gaze. Lyn knew this creature?
Plenty of demons could shapeshift. Angels too. But none of them could hide their true form from him, which made this Angie dangerous.
The woman relaxed her stance and smiled. “I saw Notre Dame.” She gestured to the red car. “What are you doing at the police station?”
“Long story,” said Lyn. “I’ll explain over a venti mocha.”
“Gr
eat, let’s meet at Dave’s.”
“Uh, sure thing. I just have to swing by the apartment first.” Lyn looked over her shoulder at the police station. Her hesitation skimmed his nerves. “Meet you in thirty?”
The one called Angie shrugged. “Why don’t I just follow you to your place? We can talk there.”
“Because I’m out of coffee. And food. Basically, all I have to offer is tap water and ketchup.”
“Remind me never to sign you up for America’s Top Chef.” Angie frowned.
Lyn glanced in Sam’s direction, but he didn’t think she could see him. The bustle of nerves she emitted echoed beneath his rib cage. Sam tried to ignore it as he focused on the mysterious creature. He knew there were things Lyn did not tell him. Sam didn’t trust her with even a fraction of his past, and he wasn’t surprised she had never mentioned this Angie to him. Still, his anger festered. Didn’t Lyn realize he was trying to protect her? Didn’t she understand how important it was that he know about her friends, especially the non-human ones?
Angie noticed Lyn’s preoccupation and followed her line of sight. Sam slinked backward, scraping his T-shirt and elbows against the concrete.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” said Lyn. “On second thought, the thing at my apartment can wait. See you at Dave’s?”
The creature nodded. It waited as Lyn got into her car and closed the door. Sam felt Lyn’s uncertainty as she started the engine and drove away.
Angie turned to glare in the direction of the police station, her gaze narrowed to bronze slits. After a stern moment, she sighed and then ducked into her own mundane mode of transportation and drove away.
Sam took a cautious step into the light. What are you?
He couldn’t think of a single demon that could hide their true form that well, not even a Prince of Hell. But if Sam couldn’t see it, then Lyn might not have been able to either—which meant she might have no idea her acquaintance wasn’t human.
His fingernails pierced his palms as he clenched his fists. They were being hunted, and she was drinking coffee with the enemy. He didn’t care if Lyn believed the brunette to be human. He was tired of her inadequate behavior. Daughters were supposed to know the difference.
No more, he thought. It’s time I take charge.
10
Al’s Balls
L yn hunched over the straw of her java-chip Frappuccino with extra whip and wished it was a regular hot coffee. Note to self; cold coffee is gross. She sat in one of the cozy café nooks at Dave’s Mocha, pretending to sip the abominable drink while having an avid fascination with the indie rock band posters tacked to the wall next to her.
Angie sat with her arms crossed, drink untouched, gaze narrowed as she did one of her infamous looks. This look said, I know you’re not really drinking your drink and you hate indie rock.
Lyn squinted extra hard at the small font on the bottom of one the posters, refusing to crack under the pressure of her friend’s scowl.
“All right, I give up.” Angie threw her hands in her lap and sighed. “Are you going to tell me what you were doing at the police station or what?”
Lyn grinned at her friend. “Or what.”
Angie reached across the table and pinched Lyn’s arm.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For being a butthead and giving me heart palpations. There’s a killer out there targeting blondes and I find you at the police station.” Angie leaned against the backrest of the booth and re-crossed her arms. “I’m your best friend. You tell me everything. So, get with the telling.”
“Fine,” said Lyn. “You win. I was investigating the suicides.”
“What? Really?”
“Well, I was trying to.” Lyn shrugged. “Jackson wouldn’t budge. He said the information was ‘classified.’” Lyn made air quotes with her fingers.
“Who’s Jackson?”
“Oh, that’s the best part.” Lyn leaned forward and lifted her eyebrows. “Jackson is the detective.”
Angie gave her BFF a sidelong glance. “And that’s the best part because?”
“Because he’s smoking hot and gave me his number.” Lyn raised her hand for a celebratory high-five.
“Do you mean, like, ‘here’s my number let’s have dinner some time,’ or ‘here’s my number call me if you learn anything about the case?’”
“Does it matter? I have a hot guy’s phone number and he’s one-hundred percent human.”
“Is he single?”
“Damn, I forgot to ask.”
“Did you see a ring?”
“Damn, I forgot to look.” Lyn pouted as she dropped her hand to the table. “You’re no fun.”
Angie snorted. “By the way, I told you, you need a real P.I. certificate.”
“Eh, it’s fine. I got a man on the inside.”
Angie blinked. “You … what?”
Lyn took a sip of the frappé to hide her grin. She loved watching her BFF get worked up. It was funny. Especially since, in this case, she really did have a man on the inside. Sort of. She had a demon. Not quite the same thing, but close enough.
What’s Sam doing right now anyway? Quantum leaping through the police station? She figured he couldn’t literally quantum leap, but she loved the pop reference. Someday she would have to quiz him on how he really seemed to pop out of thin air.
Lyn glanced up from her thoughts and found Angie staring at her. “What?”
“It’s just …” Angie winced. “I don’t understand why you’re still investigating. I thought you were going to tell the Emersons about the sigil and leave it at that.”
“And make an easy buck off Violet’s poor vulnerable parents? Angie, I’m shocked. Your mother and father raised you better than that. I might’ve done everything I could to trample their values and convert you to the dark side, but—hold on, where am I going with this? Oh yeah—demons are my domain.” Lyn pointed to herself. “Daughter of Eve, remember? When the nasties leak out of Hell to prey on the innocent, who you gonna call?”
Angie furrowed her brow. “Ghost Busters?”
“No, Ang. Me. Lyn Conway, paranormal investigator. That’s who.”
“Okay, I’m hitting the pause button. Normally, I can speak your language, but right now I am all kinds of confused. Are you saying the perp is an actual real-life demon?”
Oh right. Forgot to fill her in about the portal thingy. “Looks that way.”
“How do you know? I thought you said that was impossible?”
“I thought it was crazy and very unlikely, but …” Lyn shrugged. “Turns out it’s totally possible and totally happening. We … I … went to the scene of the crime and found a portal right above the spot where the last body was found.”
“Hitting pause again,” said Angie. “I have so many questions.”
“Shoot.” Lyn sucked cold coffee through a straw and grimaced. Why had she ordered a frappé in the first place? She knew she didn’t like ice coffee.
“First, what do you mean you went to the scene of the crime? When? Why didn’t you tell me? Second—”
“I think you mean fourth.”
“—What’s a portal? And fifth, why did you say we just now? Were you with someone? Also, should we be having this conversation here?”
Lyn folded her hands in her lap and smiled sweetly. “Am I un-paused?”
“You are.”
“Great.” Lyn drew a deep breath. “One and two; after you called and told me about the fifth victim, I turned on the news and caught the location. It was only a few miles away, so I decided to check it out and look for any clues the cops might have missed. Three; I didn’t tell you because it was a spur of the moment thing. Fourth; a portal is what Greater demons use to get to Earth. Fifth; I said we because Sam tagged along, and yes, he was at my place when you called. Sixth,” Lyn drew another deep breath and then raised her voice to loudly proclaim to everyone at Dave’s Mocha, “We’re auditioning for a part in the next Dan Brown m
ovie!”
A few patrons got up and moved to the other side of the café. Lyn giggled. She was used to people thinking she was nuts.
Angie took a long swig of her coffee, but she looked like she could use something stronger. “So, a real Duke of Hell?”
“Afraid so,” said Lyn.
“But aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I what, afraid?”
“Yes.”
Abso-freaking-lutely. “Nah.”
“Well, you should be. We’re talking about a Greater demon. The last time you saw a—”
“Careful, Ang.” Lyn hadn’t talked about her family’s murder in ages, and she didn’t plan to start again anytime soon.
Angie cringed at the warning. “I just mean that you’ve never really shown an interest in the Eve thing before, and now you’re suddenly taking up demon hunting as a hobby?”
“Oh!” Lyn snapped her fingers. “Lyn Conway, demon hunter. That’s good. How much do you think business cards will cost?”
“I’m serious,” Angie whined. “Didn’t Lolly have years of specialized training?”
“Speaking of Gran, I need you to come to the storage unit with me. There’s been a possession. I need to find the book.” Lyn didn’t need to specify which storage unit or what book. Her BFF knew.
“Boy, you’re full of surprises today.” She got up and dumped her coffee cup in the trash. Lyn followed suit.
“Yeah, sorry to spring it on you all at once, but I’m not joking about the possession.”
“Dang,” said Angie. “Anyone I know?”
Lyn held the door open for her friend. “It’s Gran.”
Angie stumbled as she turned too quickly to backtrack. She gripped the door handle and looked wide-eye at Lyn, the color draining from her face. “Gran? Your Gran? As in Lolly?”
She nodded. “The Great Beatrice Rose McKenzie herself. If you ask me, she’s seriously slacking lately.”
“Oh my God. Lyn …”
Lyn pointed her index finger at the sky to shush Angie as they walked toward their cars. “No sympathy allowed, Garcia. Gran will be fine because we are going to fix it.”
