If they had eyewitnesses, why bother me? To confirm it? Didn’t feel like they trusted my judgement as an “expert.” My focus narrowed on Stan. He flipped his notepad closed, and looked at his feet. Coward.
Lafleur pasted a fake, half-smile on his face that didn’t reach his cold cop gaze. “Thank you for your time, Agent Mc—”
“It’s ambassador, actually,” I snapped.
“My apologies. Thank you for your time, Ambassador McNeilly. If you think of anything else or find out anything pertinent to our investigation, please contact us.” He held his hand out.
I stared at his hulk hand and the vice-like grip it represented and then back to his steely gaze. “The contact?”
“Pardon?”
“You promised to tell me who you spoke to from the SRD.”
The wind changed direction and carried the putrid smell of dead bodies our way. I flinched.
Lafleur’s hand dropped, and his face paled. He swallowed before answering my question. “So I did. It was an Agent Tucker. Know him?”
I did. And boy how I wish I didn’t.
Chapter Seven
“Demons are like obedient dogs; they come when they are called.”
~Remy de Gourmont
As much as I’d wanted to run to the SRD headquarters downtown and curb-stomp Agent Tucker’s face, something else kept tugging at my dendrites. I needed to find out more about the Demon of Mass Destruction. Who was he? And how did he know me?
Wick’s continued good health depended on me not only getting answers, but getting them quickly. Lucien had little patience.
I knew one fast, yet degrading way to find out.
And I needed the help of my karaoke-belting Witch neighbours.
When their apartment door swung open, the vanilla and honey scent of Witches overwhelmed my nose. One of my favourite scents, even if I associated it with tomfoolery and hijinks. These Witches had a penchant for retribution via pranks. And good ones at that. I’d sent them a threatening letter regarding their nocturnal karaoke singing, and they’d responded by tampering with my computer’s autocorrect feature and packing my apartment with small cups full of water.
“Andy.” Ben greeted me with a half-smile that illuminated his plain face. He took a step back to let me in his apartment. “To what do I owe the honour? More karaoke? We could’ve used your shrieking last night.”
“No doubt. I liked your Michael tribute.” I snorted. They’d sung the greatest hits of Michael Jackson into the wee hours of the night, but this time instead of getting angry, I smiled and went back to sleep, comforted by their close proximity.
I walked into the living room where two of Ben’s other denmates lounged on the well-loved sofas. Matt’s green eyes sparkled behind shaggy, dirty-blond hair as he waved back, and Patty’s lips quirked, my presence somehow amusing him. Everything amused him. He saluted me.
I nodded at the Witches before flopping down on the couch. Red jumped up on my lap. “I wish I was here for social reasons. Where’s Christopher?”
The Witch in question, magically spelled into a mute, hated my guts, because, well, I’d called him a mute. I hadn’t known his past or his vocal predicament at the time I made the comment.
Matt and Patty glanced at each other before Matt spoke up. “Haven’t seen him since last night. Had a hot date.”
Christopher? Hot date? Never expected to hear those two things in the same sentence. Not that he wasn’t attractive in a gruff, logger-caveman kind of way, but Christopher could be a bit uptight, and surly.
My doubt must’ve read clearly on my face because Ben laughed. “Believe it or not, he’s a hit with the female Witches.”
“It’s always the quiet ones,” I muttered.
“They all want to try to ‘fix’ him,” Patty said.
Eww. A scene of horny Witches in pointy hats trying to cure Christopher with sexual healing seeped into my brain. Doing the horizontal mambo on a blood-wrought pentagram surrounded by candles. Gross! More images flickered across my imagination.
Make it stop. I squeezed my eyes shut. Not working. Still there. “Thanks for that mental image.”
“Anytime.” Patty chuckled.
Ben opened the small bar fridge beside the sofa, and pulled out a bottle of beer. He held it out to me, but I shook my head. Shrugging, he popped the beer cap off with the edge of the fridge door, before kicking it closed. “So tonight’s visit isn’t social…” he prompted.
“No.” I coughed into my fist. How should I start? “I need to summon Sid again.”
Matt and Patty perked up from their spots on the couch. Ben took a long swig of beer before placing it on the fridge. At least he didn’t spray the beer across my face like the last time I’d asked for a summoning. “Are you sure? He may ask for more this time.”
“I’m not paying more.” I picked up Red and placed her on the floor before getting up. The Witches studied me as if I’d grown three heads.
“When do you want to do this?” Ben asked, folding his arms in front of his lean frame.
“Tonight?”
Ben pursed his lips and looked over at his fledglings. “Doesn’t give us a lot of time to bang out the agreement details.”
“I’d prefer not to bang out anything, thank you very much,” I said, placing my hands on my hips.
“Not getting any?” Patty quipped.
A growl ripped out of my throat before I could stop it. The stare I cast at Patty must’ve conveyed the wrath and destruction I intended because he looked away and mumbled something of an apology. Slim and short, I could take him easily and the Witch-fledgling couldn’t stop me, not even if he threw on that cute Irish accent he sometimes did when he was drunk.
“Stop dominating my roommates.” Ben punched me in the shoulder. “That’s my job.”
My mountain lion hissed.
“Fine.” I settled back into the couch and shushed my mountain lion. “Can you do it tonight? I know it’s still a few days until the new moon.”
Witches drew their strength from the new moon. The same night Wereleopards had to shift, and Werewolves and Vampires were at their weakest. Supernatural nature preordaining the terms.
Ben shrugged. “It will require more concentration on my part, but the summoning is manageable.”
“Let’s do this, then.”
“Your place or mine?” Ben asked.
Usually I heard a more slurred version of that question after a heavy night of drinking. “Mine.”
“Can we come?” Patty and Matt asked.
Ben shrugged and looked my way.
“Only for the summoning. Then you have to leave.” No way would I let them witness my payment to Sid. “Same goes for you,” I said to Ben.
Ben nodded, and turned to his brethren. “Get the stuff.”
I really appreciated Ben not making me repeat my threats of pain and suffering. Made everything more efficient. The Witches squealed with delight and jumped off the couch, rampaging through the apartment gathering supplies. The smell of new crayons filled the room.
“Let’s meet them over there,” Ben said, taking my arm. I let him lead me out of his apartment, down the hall and into my place. Red followed, trotting along behind my heels.
“Why are you doing this?” Ben asked.
Ah. So he wanted me alone to interrogate me. “I need answers, and Sid has them.”
Ben huffed a little, and his bottom lip squished under his top one.
“His price isn’t that bad,” I said.
“Is your dignity worth so little?”
My arms hung to my sides, and my throat grew suddenly thick. I cleared it, along with the emotions flashing through my brain. Did he think that poorly of me? I counted him as a friend. My heart stung. I took a deep breath and tried to wipe away some of the pain from Ben’s comment.
The best defense was a good offense. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I repeated the mantra silently a couple of times before I cracked my knuckles and shoved a stiff finger in B
en’s face. “Don’t you dare judge me. You don’t know what I’ve done, or where I’ve been. Trust me. This payment is chump change, and I’m willing to pay it compared to the alternative.”
Ben’s chin dipped to his chest as his posture slumped. He took a couple of deep breaths before speaking. “Sorry, Andy. I forget sometimes you’ve got all this baggage to deal with, and alliances pulling you in different directions. I just…worry sometimes.”
That I’ll lose myself.
He didn’t need to say it, but the realistic danger churned my stomach. I’d lost myself to the beast before, and I never wanted to repeat the experience.
Matt and Patty barged into my apartment, stinking of clean lavender, crayons and sweat. Matt carried a ceremonial knife, point facing down, and Patty clutched two boxes of salt. They vibrated with excitement.
Ben stepped away from me, and drew his shoulders back and straightened his spine. “Draw the circle,” he ordered, taking the knife from Matt. The words he’d uttered hung between us, but Ben stalked around, all business.
Patty handed one of the boxes to Matt, and together they poured the salt out to form a large circle in the middle of my living room. When completed, they stood and looked at Ben. He nodded, moved toward the circle and drew the ceremonial knife across his palm.
Ben clenched his fist and walked around the summoning circle, letting the thick red liquid splatter at even intervals against my beige rug and along the salted line. The cleaning company I hired must love me by now. The bitter scent of his blood filled my nose.
When finished, Ben stood between Matt and Patty and they chanted: “Hekate. Si placet, ancora nobis ad orbis terrarium. Gratias tibi ago.”
I’d heard this chant before. Hecate. Please anchor me to the world. Thank you.
White Witches started a summoning by calling upon the goddess Hekate and asking her to anchor them to Earth. The more powerful Witches didn’t have to vocalize the incantations, and I knew from experience that included Ben. But he chanted along with the others because he was their teacher, setting a good example. And he thought it looked more badass.
The importance behind the words hummed through the air. If Witches didn’t properly anchor their spirit to the living world during a Demon summoning, a powerful Demon could rip the Witches from their roots, and pull them through the portal. Witches, apparently, were the cat’s meow in the demonic realm, the ultimate play toy. That’s if the Witch survived being torn every which way from the streams of demonic power in the portal. Anchoring was serious business. Given the alternatives, including an eternity as a Demon’s bitch or shredding of the body, mind and soul, I got it.
The Witches continued chanting: “Hekate. Si placet, advoco Daemonium Sidragasum ad nobis. Gratias tibi ago.”
Hecate. Please summon the Demon Sidragasum to us. Thank you.
Red ran around the circle growling. A shiver of anticipation ran through my veins as the air in the room rose with a familiar stir, rushing around and flinging my hair about, before a portal snapped into place in the midst of a powerful maelstrom. A dark figure crouched in the middle of the circle. The Demon straightened and turned to us, the last dregs of wind flowing through his hair.
“Oh, little Carus. I knew you’d call.”
Chapter Eight
“I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.”
~Mae West
After rambling off my terms like a wannabe lawyer, Sid ran a long talon against the inside of his arm and kept his eyes trained on me as he said, “By my blood, I agree to these terms and swear to hold my end of the bargain.”
He’d agreed to the deal—dancing for information. His blood slid off his skin and fell to the floor in a dark thick pool. It saturated the beige fluffy rug that had been my favourite at one time. Not anymore.
I partially shifted my forefinger into a sharp claw and repeated the action with my left palm, reciting the same words. I didn’t cut as deep, though. Show-off.
Sid smirked as if he read my mind, and the air in the room buzzed with energy.
And the heavy mouth-breathing Witches behind me.
“Out,” I said, not making eye contact with any of them.
I waited until my front door clicked and the strong smell of honey and vanilla dissipated, though some still lingered. Witches gone. No witnesses.
“You’re overdressed for what you promised, little Carus.”
I released a long breath. “I’m not little. I’m five foot ten for fuck’s sake.”
“You’re little to me.” True enough. The Demon towered over me at around seven feet. A complete guestimate gauging the distance between my ten-foot ceiling and the top of his head. I had no desire to break the circle to take a tape measure to him.
“Then what do you call women who fall below five-five?” I wondered out loud.
“Petite? Stop stalling, and get naked.”
I rolled my eyes and walked over to the side of the room to stick my mp3 player into the docking station.
Go to the bedroom, I told Red.
But—
Go! I didn’t want her to watch, either.
She snarled, but ran to the bedroom. My fluffy duvet crinkled when she nestled into the sheets.
Heck, I didn’t want any of my feras to watch. The idea of witnesses made my stomach churn. If only I could send the feras in my head to the bedroom along with Red. My dancing wouldn’t suffer too much without their influence. The animal magnetism on the other hand…I needed that.
Look away, I told the three feras cohabitating my mind.
The wolf snorted and curled up into a tight ball. The mountain lion yawned and continued to pace, just in case I needed her. The falcon cackled. She may as well have said, “Make me.”
I released a long breath and scrolled through my music. After I found the right song, I pressed play.
The deep pumping bass filled my living room, and my body swayed automatically to the rhythm. My feras perked up as soon as the music flowed through my bones, ignoring my earlier command.
I loved to dance. Privately. Not with a Seducer Demon panting in a salt circle waiting to feed off my energy.
Shame bubbled up my spine, but I pushed it down. If I blocked everything out, maybe…maybe I’d enjoy this, or at the very least, not hate myself. I needed to know about the Demon, and not just to protect Wick from Lucien, but for my own safety. He knew me somehow, and I probably wouldn’t like the reason.
I let my head roll back as I unbuttoned my shirt and moved my hips, letting the animals inside guide me in a dance as old as time. The melody rolled out and rushed around, lifting the hairs on my arms as I anticipated the upbeat. My hands floated up, my legs moved, and I danced out of my remaining clothes.
Lost to me, were the frustrations of the day, of not knowing the extent of my true nature, the hurt and fear of being faced with a Demon again, the anxiety of two possible mates, the Vampire liaison job from hell. Gone. Flowing out of my body with each twist and turn and swivel. I forgot the present and let everything just be. With each turn and swing of my hips delayed, I made each move more sensual and smooth, yet primitive.
When the song ended, the heat burning inside remained, my heart still beat with the tune, my body hummed and vibrated with potent energy, until slowly the sexual charge seeped out into the silent living room, feeding the Demon. It took a while to open my eyes, to ruin the mood and crash back into reality. My skin crawled as if an invisible layer of dirt moved to cloak every inch of it. I swallowed and turned to face the Demon.
Sid stood in the middle of his circle, muscles tense, eyes aflame, hard-on raging.
Shit.
The deal was to dance until fifteen minutes remained before dawn, or when he finished feeding. Looking at his tightly-corded, flexed muscles, and a posture clearly indicating he prepared to pounce, not drift off to sleep and start snoring, I knew the terms hadn’t been met.
“Do I need to keep dancing?” I asked.
Sid shook his head.
&nbs
p; Guess I was off the hook for more air humping.
Sid watched me, eyes glittering like shards of obsidian.
I waited.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out deep and husky, verbal rough sex. “I’d give you anything, anything you desired, if you allowed me out of this circle, little one.”
“Not happening.” I grabbed my robe and threw it on.
“Have I mentioned how…happy…I am that you summoned me?” Sid’s seductive voice coiled around me like a lover’s embrace.
“Shut up.” I tightened the hold on my robe. “Stop trying to lay the sex mojo on me. Don’t waste my time tormenting me.”
“Oh my, someone’s testy.” Sid held his hands up in mock defense. “Not getting laid?”
“None of your business.”
“No need to answer. I overheard your conversation with the neo-bhàsmhor and know it’s true.” He leaned in. “I could help you out, you know. On the house. No one would know.”
“I’d know. And I already feel dirty.” I clutched my robe closer. “The neo-bhàsmhor?”
“The primary human servant to your Vampire Master.”
“Clint?” Why’d Sid call him a…what the hell did he say? Sounded like neo-whore. Sid must’ve met Clint before.
Then, an ugly thought struck me. “Stop eavesdropping on private conversations. It’s rude.”
Sid crossed his arms. “I eavesdropped because you looked unhappy with the neo-bhàsmhor. I remained close in case you needed my help.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Out of the goodness of your heart? You want me to believe you care about my wellbeing?”
Sid nodded. “I have a certain soft spot for you.” He glanced down. “Or should I say hard?”
I glared at him. What the hell was he trying to pull?
“Relax, Carus. Despite what you may think of us Demons, we have our independent interests to pursue and protect. You happen to be one of mine.”
“Looking for a life companion?” Oh my Feradea! Please say no.
Sid snorted. “No. If you want me in a physical capacity, I’d be more than happy to oblige, because I feed off sex and am always hungry, but my interest in you runs deeper than that.”
Carpe Demon (Carus #3) Page 6
