A Plain-Dealing Villain

by Craig Schaefer

  “I need two things tonight. I need to feed, to replenish my energy. And I need to examine you. To make sure Nadine didn’t slip a spider into the back of your mind. Will you allow me to?”

  “What, you think she hypnotized me or something, like some kind of Manchurian Candidate deal?”

  “I think,” she started to say, then fell silent. Her shadow hovered before me, barely breathing.

  I put it together. I just had to look at it from Caitlin’s perspective. She knew that an older, far more powerful rival (Nadine says Caitlin is more skilled than she is, argued the voice in the back of my head) had cornered her lover tonight. She knew that Nadine could mess with people’s heads just by touching them (except Nadine says Caitlin can do it too). And she knew that Royce would benefit in all kinds of ways by stealing me from her.

  I’ve been feeling insecure since we left the club, I thought.

  And so has Caitlin.

  “Will you allow me to?” she asked.

  That voice in the back of my head asked what she would do if I said no. The rest of me already knew my answer.

  “Do what you have to.”

  She took my shoulders and turned me around, facing the bed.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she said. “Be in bed when I return. Be naked.”

  She stepped into the bathroom. I undressed and slipped beneath the covers, sinking into the soft mattress. She returned a few minutes later. Her silhouette paused by the pile of my discarded clothes, crouching. I heard the whispering slither of my belt, pulling free from my trousers, before she stood up again.

  “Daniel,” she asked, “do you trust me?”

  Don’t trust her, said the traitor in the back of my head.

  “Yes,” I told her.

  She held my belt loosely, looped between her hands. Then she yanked one end, hard, making the leather snap as it drew taut.

  “Put your hands over your head.”

  I slid down on the mattress a little, crossing my wrists above my head on the pillow. Watching her as she slipped out of her dress, a sinuous shadow, the belt dangling in her grip.

  “Caitlin, what are you—”

  “Do you trust me?”

  The traitorous voice in my head was quieter. “I trust you,” I said.

  She pulled back the sheets and straddled my waist, trailing the tongue of the belt across my bare chest. Then she leaned in and twisted the leather around my wrists, tethering them to a spoke on the headboard. At first slow, gentle—then she gave the belt a sudden, vicious yank to draw the leather tight. She knotted it.

  “Pull on that,” she said.

  I tugged at my wrists, but she’d knotted the belt too expertly, too tight. My hands weren’t going anywhere. Caitlin sat up and rested her fingernails on my chest, over my heart.

  “Helpless,” she said.

  I gave the belt another tug.

  She leaned in, her hair falling across my face, and kissed the curve of my neck. My skin tingled in the wake of her lips, kindling a fire in the pit of my stomach.

  “You know I enjoy hurting people,” she said, as if she were commenting on the weather.

  “You might have, ah, mentioned that before, yeah.”

  Another tug. My wrists started to ache. Like she said, helpless.

  “It’s not an uncommon delight among my kind.” She punctuated her words with a flick of her tongue against my earlobe. “Obviously, but I consider myself something of a gourmet when it comes to pain. Much like Nadine, really. I’m simply more…discreet.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice from quavering.

  “You’ve never hurt me.”

  “No. Not yet, I haven’t.”

  “Do you…think you’re going to?”

  She chuckled, low and throaty.

  “I’m saying,” she whispered, “that I could if I wanted to. And you couldn’t stop me. The belt is just to drive the point home. I don’t need you in bonds to do as I please with you.”

  She sat up, took hold of my chin, and turned my head to look up at her. Her eyes glowed in the dark, faint orbs of swirling copper.

  “So all that being said, I have one question for you, Daniel. Just one, and I expect a truthful answer. I’ll know if you lie.”

  I believed her.

  “What’s the question?”

  She studied me in silence, then finally spoke.

  “Daniel, are you afraid of me?”

  Her question hit me like the tip of a spear. It drove through my shield of self-loathing, my armor of doubt, cracked the bars of the cage Nadine and Royce had tried to put me in, and thrust right into my heart.

  Because I knew the answer without thinking.

  “No,” I said.

  “No?”

  “No. Because I know you won’t hurt me. Because I do trust you. I’ve trusted you with my life before. I’ve made that gamble and won, and you’ve done the same for me. I’m not afraid of you, Caitlin, because I’m in love with you. And I believe that you love me too.”

  Caitlin slumped against me, the tension draining out of her body as she coiled her arms around me and clung tight.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I let out an uneasy laugh and wriggled my fingers. “Good. So can you untie me? I think my hands are falling asleep.”

  “No.” She straightened up, straddling me. “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?”

  “I like looking at you like this.” She reached down. Her slender fingers curled around me, gently squeezing and stroking. “And as I said, I do need to replenish my energy. Here you are, all tied up and nowhere to run. Can’t move, no way to release all that pent-up energy…hmm. Now I’m wondering. Think I can make you cry out so loudly that someone calls hotel security?”

  “I…I don’t think that’s entirely necessar—” My words shattered into a groan of pleasure as she guided me inside her.

  “Oh,” Caitlin said, rising up and then easing down again, agonizingly slow, “it is entirely necessary.”

  * * *

  I lost track of time. Caitlin had that effect on me. I just remembered snuggling in a happy haze, my freed arms wrapped around her shoulders, our sweat-drenched bodies entwined on the king-sized bed.

  “There’s just one thing I have to do,” Caitlin murmured. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I have to send a very pointed message to Nadine.”

  “Huh? Sure, but why would I need to forgive—”

  Her teeth clamped down on the side of my neck, biting hard enough to make my eyes water, her mouth suckling as I cried out. It felt like minutes passed before she let me go, taking hold of my chin and tilting my head to one side.

  “There,” she said, sounding satisfied. “That’ll bruise nicely.”

  “Ow. What the hell, Caitlin?”

  “You will wear an open-collared shirt to the tournament, no tie. I want her to see that. I want all of her people to see that, too.”

  I stared at her in the dark.

  “I’m gonna have a massive hickey.” I winced as I rubbed my neck. “What, are we in high school now?”

  “It’s a love bite, not a hickey. Daniel, humans who…belong to members of the courts are customarily given identifiers of various sorts. A tattoo, a brand, perhaps a soul-mark. It’s territorial.”

  “This,” I said, “is a hickey.”

  “You don’t…‘belong’ to me the way that most humans belong to one of my kind. So certain traditional marks of owne—of companionship would be considered gauche. Like wearing a wedding ring when you’re only dating. So, in the meantime, one makes do with what one has. Nadine will understand the message.”

  “That message being?”

  “Hands off,” Caitlin purred, pulling me into a kiss. “You belong to me.”

  And as I slowly tumbled into a dreamless sleep, the darkened hotel room giving way to the darkness behind my eyelids, the traitorous voice in the back of my mind finally fell silent.

  For now.

  29.r />
  Sunrise came like a stampede of bulls, kicking me out of bed and into the shower as my mind lurched into high gear. We had one day. Royce’s tournament was almost here, and at the end of the game, the Judas Coin would most likely slip out of our grasp—and our best hope for saving Coop would vanish along with it.

  That gave us one day. One day to manipulate Royce into handing us an edge we could use.

  The curtain parted and Caitlin stepped into the shower with me, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “I just called the others. Everyone’s up and about, or at least getting there slowly. We’re all meeting in Bentley and Corman’s room.”

  As we stepped into their suite, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted out to greet us, steaming from a six-pack of cardboard cups beside a mixed box of donuts. Corman had already gotten started on the donuts, judging from the dusting of powdered sugar on his golf shirt.

  “And this is why I love you,” I said, scooping up one of the cups. The coffee was hot in my hands and hotter going down, bitter and black. Margaux and Pixie weren’t far behind us.

  “Did some digging on your client,” Pixie said, “and found something weird.”

  I knew it. Cameron Drake and his “employees” were too fishy to be real. “What’d you find?” I asked her.

  “Nothing. That’s the weird part. Drake is one-hundred-percent legit.”

  My momentary excitement deflated like a punctured balloon.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope.” She stepped around me and squinted at the box, plucking out a chocolate glazed donut. “He won the lottery, went from roofing contractor to nouveau riche overnight, and started spending money like it was going out of style. Nothing shady in his background, nothing questionable about the lottery itself. He’s just really, really lucky. Like, struck-by-lightning-five-times-in-the-same-day-and-lived lucky.”

  “What about the ranch? Find anything on that?”

  “Eastern Pines belonged to an investment company, and it’d been sitting on the market for years. Drake bought it for twelve-point-six million, sight unseen. Guess the guy really wants to play J.R. Ewing.”

  “Seems to me we should focus on the task at hand,” Margaux said, picking up a coffee cup and prying off the plastic lid. “That coin ain’t gonna steal itself. Where’s the sugar and cream?”

  Corman arched a bushy eyebrow at her. “Don’t ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee. Drink it black, like nature and God intended.”

  “Comin’ from a man who puts ketchup on scrambled eggs,” Margaux snorted.

  “All right,” I said, “let’s get to it. Most of today is on my shoulders. If Scudder did his job and ratted me out, then right about now Royce is expecting me to make a move on the coin. That means he’ll have eyes on me the second I go downstairs. If there’s not somebody waiting for me in that lobby right now, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

  Bentley put his hands behind his back and paced the room, thinking. “Assuming he won’t be shadowing you personally, given that you know his face, do we know how large a team he can field?”

  “Not large,” Caitlin said. “That’s the good news. The bad news is he has the aid of an organization called the Dead Roses. Stealth and subterfuge is their specialty, and they are highly skilled.”

  Bentley tilted his head. “Humans, or…?”

  “A little of both. The Roses will take anyone except for cambion. Expect a mixture of humans and demons wearing human skin. The humans will wear heavy clothing to conceal extensive bodily scarring and surgical modification. If male, they’ve generally been castrated, though you’re not likely to get close enough to tell.”

  “Excuse me.” Pixie held up one hand, looking queasy. “Did you say ‘castrated’?”

  “The Roses will take anyone,” Caitlin said, “but you have to prove that you want it. I’m told that the knife they’re given is rusted. And blunt.”

  I clapped my hands together. “So with that cheerful news, here’s how we’ll play it: Caitlin’s going to arrange rental cars for herself and Mama Margaux. Margaux, you’re going to be my second shadow. I want you on my tail all day, trying to spot who else is following me. We don’t know if Royce is going to put a tail on Caitlin or not, but it’s a safe bet that everybody in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers has her face memorized, so she’s going to drive around the city and waste their time.”

  “What about us?” Corman nodded to Bentley. “Want us to keep our peepers on Royce?”

  “I want you on the Bast Club. Astral overwatch, but don’t try to go inside. Lots of weird energy and weirder security in there. Just watch the door, and let us know if you spot Royce coming or going. If we can get him to move the coin, we’ll need to know the second it happens. Pixie, I need you to set up a secure conference call for us, a line we can all listen in on, all day if we have to. And did you get that web post up about the bounty on the coin?”

  Pixie swallowed a mouthful of donut. “Yep. Seeing a few ripples of activity, too. It’s got some eyeballs on it.”

  “Good. Put up a response. Make it look like it’s coming from me, and I’m doing a lousy job of covering my tracks. Just don’t make it too easy for them.”

  “You got it. What should it say?”

  “That I’m on the move,” I said. “And I expect to have the coin in my hands before sundown.”

  * * *

  Alone in the elevator down, I slipped my Bluetooth earpiece on snugly, hearing a soft hiss of static in my eardrum.

  “Okay, ladies and gents,” I whispered, “it’s showtime. Mama, you on deck?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Margaux murmured back.

  “Good. Caitlin, you’re up at bat.”

  Right about then, Caitlin would be strolling through the lobby, taking her time on the way to the hotel’s front doors. Right past Margaux, who’d have a prime seat in the lobby, watching the room while she pretended to play with her phone. As the elevator touched down and the doors chimed, Margaux spoke softly.

  “Caitlin, you’ve got two on your tail. Those yuppie-looking boys who were standing by the window, braggin’ about their stock options. They’re stuck to you like white on rice.”

  “Two just for me? Mm, I’m flattered.”

  I strode off the elevator and headed straight for the concierge desk, not giving anyone in the lobby a passing glance. The concierge stood up sharply at my arrival, back straight and shoulders square.

  “Mr. Greyson,” he said, “good morning! Is everything to your liking?”

  Hotels where they remember my name were always to my liking. Even if it was a fake name.

  “Absolutely,” I told him. “Just one question. I’m going to need to rent a car, just for today. Can you direct me to the closest rental place?”

  “I can do better than that. We’d be happy to arrange it for you and have a car brought around front. It won’t take any time at all.”

  I took out my wallet and peeled off a couple of twenties.

  “Fantastic,” I said a little louder than I needed to, matching his glowing smile watt for watt. “Something with a hatchback would be perfect. I’m doing a lot of shopping today.”

  “Don’t look left,” Margaux whispered. “Stocky man with a rolling suitcase perked up once you started talking, and now he’s texting somebody.”

  While I waited for the car, loitering by the big glass sliding doors, I dug up a phone number for Scudder’s repair shop. I disconnected from the conference call and gave him a ring.

  “We still on for today?” I heard him clear his throat on the other end. Nervous.

  “Yeah, no, turns out I can’t help ya.”

  I smiled with relief.

  Scudder could only fall two ways: either he’d take my offer and play it straight, or he’d sell me out to Royce in order to bolster his rep with the Flowers. Obviously, he’d chosen the prize behind curtain number two. Just like I wanted him to.

  “You can’t, or you won’t?” I demanded, doing my best to sound angry.

&
nbsp; “Means the same thing far as you’re concerned, right? Look, I don’t have the intel you want. I can’t deliver, and I’m not in the business of rippin’ people off.”

  The hell you aren’t, I thought. I’ve seen your shop.

  “I’m very disappointed, Scudder. Fine, I’ll go with my backup option. They’ve got what I need, and they’ll be happy to take my money.”

  “Wait,” he said. “Wait, who? What backup option?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just found somebody with an inside connection at the Bast Club. Heavily inside. They’re more expensive than your services, but y’know, you get what you pay for. See you around, Scudder.”

  “Wait, wait. Hold on just a—”

  I hung up on him and got back on the conference call. I figured he’d be falling all over himself to warn Royce. Good.

  A valet brought my rental around front. A silver Chrysler 300 with a hatchback. Perfect. As I slipped behind the steering wheel, Margaux’s warning crackled over my earpiece.

  “Careful, Danny. Three men just got off the elevator, walking in step with each other and moving fast. All three wearing long coats and leather gloves, and they’re not even outside yet.”

  “I’ll drive slow,” I said, “and make sure they catch up with me. Bentley, is Corman ready?”

  Up in their room, Corman would be sitting cross-legged, breathing shallow, deep in a trance. Astral projection was his specialty. Bentley babysat Corman’s body while he wasn’t inside it and translated his faint whispers for us.

  “Cormie says he’s floating about ten feet above your car.”

  “Okay, let’s leapfrog. Have him follow me while Margaux gets her own rental car. Mama, as soon as you catch up with me, trade off. You tail me from there, and Corman can watch the Bast Club. Cait, how are you doing?”

  “Leading my pursuers on a merry little chase. No worries. You just focus on the ones dogging your heels.”

  Part one, complete. I needed to show Royce that I intended to steal the Judas Coin right out of the hallowed confines of the Bast Club. By now, he had to believe it.

  Now the tricky part: making him think I could actually pull it off.