by AE Jones
Morrison nodded. “Heller would have been labeled a psych case if I had taken his testimony as is. Or, worst case, he would have been considered a suspect since his story was so far-fetched.”
“What do you think killed the security guard?” Dalton asked Jean Luc.
“Based on David and Kyle’s description, we believe it might have been a high-level demon. We are attempting to cross-reference demons with the abilities David described to us to see if we have any matches.”
Dalton asked. “And what else have you discovered so far?”
Misha jumped in to tell about our visit with museum director Hamilton while I watched his lips move. At some point, his words no longer made sense to me, as if he were an adult from a Charlie Brown cartoon “wah-wah-wahing.”
Misha stopped, and then Dalton said something, and the room went quiet. After a few more seconds, all the faces in the room turned my way. Whatever he’d asked had been directed to me. Shit.
“Sorry?”
“I said, do you have anything else to add regarding your visit with the museum director?”
“No. Misha told you everything.”
He stared at me for a moment, and now I felt like a specimen under a microscope. Not now. Hold it together a little while longer.
“I’m going to review the autopsy results and the police case notes, and then I think we should regroup later,” Dalton said in clear dismissal.
As everyone else said their goodbyes, I hurried out the door. I had to get out of the building. I shoved open the precinct door and sucked in damp air. It had started to rain, which was no surprise since it was springtime in Cleveland, and I rushed across the parking lot, my boots smacking the wet pavement.
I reached the van and yanked on the door handle. Pain shot up my fingers into my hand when it wouldn’t open. I laid my forehead against the cold window, waiting for Misha to come out and unlock the damn door.
Footsteps thundered up behind me and stopped a few feet short of me. “Are you okay, little one?”
He touched my shoulder, and I jerked away and spun. He held both palms out in front of him, as if trying to calm a trapped animal. Jean Luc and Talia watched from behind him.
“I’m fine.”
Talia came closer. “I’m sorry, Kyle.”
I shrugged. “There’s no need to be sorry. He doesn’t remember me, which is a good thing. Everything is hunky dory.”
Jean Luc and Talia exchanged a cryptic vampire look.
“Okay. I’ll meet you all at the office,” Talia said and walked away, but Jean Luc remained.
I glared at him.
“I am going to ride with you.”
“I’m fine, Jean Luc.”
He opened the door and held out his hand. “Kyle, get in the van. You are soaked.”
I climbed into the backseat. Jean Luc sat next to me, and Misha clambered into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the lot. I reached up and wiped the rain off my face and rubbed my hands on my damp jeans. And I kept rubbing them, letting the repetitive motion distract me. He was fine. I was fine. Everything was fine.
“Ma petite, are you okay?”
“Stop asking me that!” I yelled, my nerves jangling up my spine so hard that I shuddered in my seat. I knew what was coming next.
I hadn’t had a panic attack since I was sixteen and first discovered my gift. Fourteen years later, it felt like it was yesterday—heart pounding up into my throat, blocking my ability to breathe.
Jean Luc pushed my head between my knees and rubbed his hands along my back, his thrall warming me and slowing my heart to normal. At the rate I was going, I would need to bottle his thrall and keep it on me at all times.
I don’t know how long I stayed with my head between my knees, but when I started to breathe easier, Jean Luc helped me sit up. At some point, we had pulled to the side of the road, the rear door was open, and Misha was now squatting in front of me.
I stared into his worried face. “He’s different. So guarded now.”
Misha cradled my hand. “He works for the Feds.”
“It’s more than that.”
Jean Luc nodded. “In his mind, he remembers being attacked by a serial killer last year and barely escaping with his life. That would profoundly change anyone.”
“So you’re telling me I screwed him up by changing his memories?”
“No, ma petite, I am telling you he has much to work through. The real memories of his torture almost drove him insane. You saved him by changing his memories. Do not lose sight of that.”
Chapter 8
Claustrophobia alert, line one. Misha and Jean Luc hovered while we walked into the office, like they were afraid I was going to have another meltdown.
I acknowledged Dolly, who sat perched behind her reception desk wearing a designer red dress with her blond hair twisted up to enhance her supermodel face. She set down her Guns and Ammo magazine to greet us, and once again, I wondered what she did in her spare time, but was oh-so-afraid to ask.
“Boss man is here,” Dolly announced.
I closed my eyes. Of course he was. Nicholas never stayed away for long, and he seemed to have a sixth sense about trouble. And he wasn’t shy with his opinions, but then neither was I.
Misha opened the door to the back office and ushered me inside, probably to keep me from bolting in the other direction.
Nicholas took up the center of the room as if he owned it. And technically he did. He was the same as always. Impeccably dressed and oozing a Cary Grant type of vibe—except he had blond hair. I was not impressed.
Before any of us could get a word out he said, “Joe’s back.”
“How the hell could you already know?” I blurted.
“I have my sources. Why is he here?”
“Didn’t your ‘sources,’” I said using air quotes, “tell you why?”
I leaned forward to get into the boss’s face, but Jean Luc put a calming, thrall-charged hand on my shoulder. I forcibly tamped down my anger and continued, “The FBI was going to horn in anyway, so Captain Morrison requested him because he knows how to control the fallout from the museum break-in.”
Nicholas’ lips flattened into a harsh line before he spoke again. “Have we learned anything new?”
Misha answered, “Nothing since my last call to you.”
“How do we get him to leave again?” Nicholas asked.
“We solve the case,” I bit out.
“I don’t need to remind you how dangerous it is to have Joe here, do I?” Nicholas pushed.
“He did not recognize us,” Jean Luc responded. “The mind sweep is holding.”
Nicholas frowned. “For now.”
* * *
I parked behind our facility by the river. It looked, from the outside, like an abandoned building, which was our intent. Keeping humans away was an important part of not exposing the supernatural. I’d volunteered to find out what Doc had discovered from the blood samples. I could have phoned her, but after Nicholas left, I couldn’t sit still, since the hovering had intensified. Once Talia arrived, she’d fussed as much as Jean Luc and Misha about my mental stability.
And being the overprotective bunch they were, they insisted on having one of them accompany me. Misha got the short straw. I was expecting a lecture from him but had a merciful reprieve, since he was involved in a phone call the entire drive. A call he conducted in Russian.
He finally hung up when I cut the engine. “Sorry, little one.”
“I’m fine, Mish. If you have somewhere else you need to be, just let me know. I don’t need a babysitter right now.”
He clucked his tongue at me. “Jason told me once that you are one of the most stubborn people he ever met. I told him I already knew.”
My stomach bottomed out at Jason’s name.
“Have you talked to Jason lately?”
The grin left Misha’s face. “Yes.”
“Is he going to come back to work with us?”
Misha stared out the
window for so long I didn’t think he was going to answer me. “He’s not ready yet.”
“It’s my fault.”
“Kyle—”
“It is. I should have told him Griffin suspected he was part shifter. Instead, he had to hear it from William, the sick bastard. And of course he taunted Jason about it. Now he’s keeping us all at arm’s length. Doc hasn’t heard from him, either.”
“He’ll return when he’s ready, Kyle. He’s strong, and once he accepts who he is, he’ll want our help.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Misha’s phone rang again. He looked at the screen. “I have to get this. It’s my father. He’s been working to find out if there are demons on earth with the powers we’re seeking.” He clicked on the phone and spoke in Russian again.
I handed him my keys. Since the only Russian I knew was swear words, there was no point in eavesdropping.
I walked through our storage facility to the lab door. After I keyed numbers on the keypad, the doors swished open, and I went in. Doc was examining something under a microscope on the other side of the room. Even with her blond hair in a ponytail and wearing scrubs, Sabrina was gorgeous. Of course, being a succubus demon went hand in hand with beauty. If sex was the way you fed, you wouldn’t last long if you were ugly.
She frowned and came around the table toward me. “Kyle.”
I hung my head. “Shit. It was you Misha was talking to on the drive here.”
She feigned surprise. “What are you talking—”
I interrupted her with some choice Russian curse words, and her eyes widened. Busted.
“You speak Russian.”
She sighed. “Fine. He called me and told me what’s going on. He’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
Sabrina propped her fists on her hips. “Don’t give me a line of bull.”
I usually loved that Sabrina never pulled her punches. Usually.
“Okay. I lost it for a minute when I saw Dalton. It was shock more than anything. But he’s fine, and I’ll be fine.”
“You must be hurting.”
“We need to solve this case. Then he will go away, and everything will get back to normal.” And if I said it a few thousand more times, maybe I’d actually believe it.
Doc pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to check you over.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Misha told me you had another episode with the Key yesterday.”
“How do you say ‘big mouth’ in Russian?” I grumbled as I plopped onto the chair.
She ignored me while she poked and prodded. After a few minutes, she looked at me and frowned.
“What?”
“I think your reflexes are a little sluggish. How do you feel?”
“I feel fine.”
“I want you to call me if you have any more incidents, got it?”
The door swished open behind me, interrupting my response. “You can come in now, Misha. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you this time.”
At least he had the good grace to blush.
I gestured at the microscope. “Do you have something for us, Doc?”
She scowled, more than likely due to my change of subject. “Yes. I’ve been examining the blood samples. It’s demon, but they’re not cells from any of the demon clans currently on earth.”
“What’s with the green?”
Doc grinned. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? I think it might have to do with the atmosphere in the realm. I would imagine after the demon has been on earth for a while the color would change to red.”
“So you believe we’re dealing with a recent arrival from the demon realm?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I looked first at Misha and then Doc. “Isn’t the demon realm locked down? How do they even get to earth?”
“The portal between the realm and earth is guarded,” Misha answered. “But given enough motivation, folks will find ways to get past most any kind of barrier.”
“That doesn’t make me feel secure.”
“The average human is much more likely to die from heart disease, cancer, or accidents than a run-in with a rogue demon.”
“Misha. Don’t give up your day job to become a counselor.”
Doc sighed. “Are you two done squabbling?”
We both nodded.
“We need to figure out who this demon is and if he’s still on earth.”
“I know someone who might be able to help us,” I said. “Doyle.”
Misha scowled. “He’s a con-demon. Do you honestly think you can trust him?”
I considered it for a second. “He’s gone legit now, but I bet he still has contacts. Let’s go fill in Jean Luc and Talia and then pay a visit to Doyle.”
Chapter 9
I plowed through the reception area and into the office. “Time to hit the road. We…”
My words and steps faltered, and Misha ran into me from behind. If he hadn’t wrapped his arm around me, he would have knocked me flat on my face.
Jean Luc and Talia sat at the table while Dalton watched us from in front of the whiteboard. He took in our less-than-elegant entrance, including Misha’s arm around my stomach.
“You have something new on the case?” he asked.
I untangled myself. “Doc reviewed the demon blood samples.”
“Doc?”
“She’s our Medical Examiner,” Jean Luc volunteered.
Dalton folded his arms across his chest. “I read the report. The only blood samples gathered were from the victim.”
I folded my own arms across my chest. “In point of fact, we gathered some samples of our own, and here’s the kicker. He’s from the demon realm.”
“What the hell is a demon realm?”
I looked at Misha, who took over. “Only certain demon clans are allowed to live on earth. Those who have been deemed too dangerous remain in the demon realm.”
“And you’re saying one of those demons was at the art museum?”
Misha and I nodded.
“How do we find him?”
Jean Luc stood. “He might not be on earth anymore.”
“Right,” I agreed. “But he’s found a way to escape the realm and come to earth. More than likely someone’s helping him. I was going to talk to Doyle. See if he can hook us up with an informant or two.”
“I’m coming with you,” Dalton announced.
Alarm bells pealed in my brain. “That might not be a good idea. We can talk to our contact and report the results to you.”
“This investigation is hands-on for me. I will not sit on the sidelines.”
I dug in my heels. “Well, our contact is going to spook. You’re wearing a suit, for God’s sake. You might as well have Fed stamped on your forehead.”
“I always carry other clothes with me. I’ll get them from the car and change, and we can be on our way.”
“Fine.”
Dalton walked out of the room, and I flipped into pace mode. “Misha. After we leave, would you get hold of Doyle and let him know we’re coming? And for God’s sake, tell him to act like he doesn’t recognize Dalton.”
Thirty minutes later, I parked my car and looked at the man sitting next to me. Dalton was now dressed in jeans and a Henley shirt with a brown leather jacket. We hadn’t spoken during the drive, and the awkward silence was choking me.
“Let me do the talking in there, since he’s my contact.”
He opened his mouth as if to protest, and then he gave a quick jerk of his chin in acceptance. That had been easier than I expected.
Dalton held open the door of the Auto Emporium, and I glanced around in awe. The building was the size of a small hangar bay, and it was full of cars. Dalton came in behind me and picked up a brochure next to the door, paging through it slowly. Then he walked up to the truck sitting to our right and studied the price sticker. He looked like he was shopping for a car. Which I guess was the point.
>
He was a natural. Since when was he comfortable under cover? The last time he had to play a part, he’d stammered like a junior high boy asking a girl to go steady. Of course, he had been talking to his ex and I was listening in at the time.
An older guy wearing a polo shirt with the Auto Emporium logo rushed up to us. “Have you been helped?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m here to see Kevin Doyle.”
The wattage of his smile dimmed. “Hang on a second.” And he left.
A few minutes later, Doyle arrived. His eyes still had a bit of a buggy quality, but I was happy to see he hadn’t let his comb-over grow back.
“Hello. I understand you asked for me. How may I help you?” He spoke in a loud voice, as if announcing to everyone in the building that he was unfamiliar with me.
“I was given your name by a friend who bought a car from you. I’m looking for a new car.”
He peered around like a shoplifter watching out for mall security, and then leaned forward and hissed, “Why are you here? I’m not in the business anymore.”
“I know, but I have an issue, and you could probably point me in the right direction.”
Dalton walked up to us, and I tensed, hoping Misha had been able to reach Doyle.
“Are you two together?” Doyle asked, his right eye twitching.
“Yes,” I replied through gritted teeth. Doyle was terrible at lying, which was why he’d been a mediocre con-demon. His tic was a sure sign he might fold under the pressure.
“Can we talk somewhere more private?” I asked.
Doyle led us to a small room with a table and chairs. He gestured to the chairs and shut the door. “I’m legit now, Kyle. I don’t want to get into trouble with the boss.”
I held up my hands. “I don’t plan to mess things up for you. But we have a big problem, and I need your help.”
He leaned against the door. I took it as a sign to keep talking.
“We have a demon that’s crossed over from the demon realm and killed a human.”
“And?”
“And I want to know how a demon is able to get to earth when the portals are supposedly blocked.”
Doyle stopped leaning and pulled on his collar. “I never dealt in demon trafficking.”
