Dancing With Demons

by Trudi Jaye

  “Perhaps.”

  I chew my lip thoughtfully, staring out the window as the world flashes by me. “Is it weird that he doesn’t seem to know that much about the supernatural world? He knows it exists, and he knows about the SIG. But….”

  “It’s not like you know an awful lot about it either,” says Blade.

  “Could he have been like me? Raised to not know about supernaturals?”

  “It seems a little far-fetched. But he’s acting like a human who’s just discovered supernatural powers.”

  I nod in agreement. “He doesn’t seem concerned about the SIG rules. He’s almost disdainful of them.”

  “Perhaps because he’s only half super.”

  I tap one finger on my cheek, thinking through everything Connor told me last night. “Is there a way we could find out more about his parents? He said his mother was the supernatural, not his father.”

  “I can call…” He glances at me and pulls a face. “I guess I can’t call Damien. Maybe the Director instead.” Blade’s expression tells me pretty clearly that he has no desire to call the SIG Director.

  “Why don’t you like him?” I ask. We’re driving into Palo Alto Hills, one of the wealthier suburbs in the area. The houses are all set back from the road with gates and stone fences protecting them from the outside world.

  “Who? Connor?”

  I glance at Blade. “No, the Director.” I hesitate. “I get why you don’t like Connor.”

  Blade’s shakes his head. “I don’t think you really understand why I don’t like Connor. If you did, you wouldn’t have gone on that date last night.”

  Something tightens in my chest. Did the kiss mean something to him as well? Do I even want him to like me like that? He’s the guy who’ll have to kill me if the demon inside me manages to take over. That’s not exactly romantic.

  Besides, it could just mean that he has some other information on sirens, or on Connor in particular. Blade’s expression isn’t exactly giving me much to work with. If anything, he seems angry. Something inside me quails at the thought of asking him point-blank what he means. Another part of me doesn’t even want to know the answer. So I return him to the topic I was actually talking about. “You’re deflecting,” I say, pushing my glasses firmly up my nose. “Tell me why you don’t like the Director.”

  Blade gives me a look, his green eyes wary. “I don’t dislike the Director.”

  “You made a face.”

  “There was no face.”

  “There was a face. You don’t like him. What’s he done to you?”

  “He’s just… a bit of an ass. That’s all. Not my favorite person.”

  “Did Damien like him?”

  “Nope.”

  “He told you that?”

  “It was just obvious.”

  “If we can’t ask Damien, we’re going to have to ask the Director,” I say reasonably. “Unless there’s anyone else you know who might have the answers we need?”

  Blade doesn’t answer, but flicks on the indicator and turns into a long driveway with large iron gates blocking the entrance. We’re in the middle of nowhere, trees and nature all around.

  He leans out his window and speaks into the intercom. “It’s Nico, she’s expecting me.” Then he waves at a small camera at the top of the high stone wall that borders the iron gates.

  The gates open slowly, and Blade drives in as soon as there’s a big enough gap. The driveway is long and twisty with large oak trees on either side giving the whole experience the feeling of being in a green tunnel.

  “This is where your grandmother lives?” I stare out the window at the perfectly manicured gardens and lawns.

  “Yeah. She’s an old battle-ax, but she knows her stuff.”

  “What’s the family emergency? Is everything okay with your sister?”

  “It’s just some business stuff she’s trying to strong arm me about. I’ll go in, tell her no, introduce you to her, ask her about chalices and Connor’s parents… and then we’re out of there.”

  “So you’re close to her, then?” I say.

  “I am usually. She’s just trying to make me do something I’m never going to do. She’s better off putting her attention elsewhere. But she’s stubborn. Doesn’t give up.”

  “Family trait, then?”

  He gives me a narrow-eyed glare as he brings the pickup truck to a halt in front of the massive front door. There are huge stone steps leading up to a ridiculously big mansion-style three-storied house.

  “Do you usually live here?” I ask, staring up at many windows.

  “No. I have my own place.”

  I let out a breath.

  “This is where I grew up, though.”

  I’m struggling to put a scruffy little Blade into this picture of wealth and privilege when the doors open and a man dressed in a formal suit comes out the door.

  “Welcome home, Blade. Your grandmother is expecting you.”

  Blade nods and climbs the stairs to give the man a hug. “It’s good to see you, Fleet.”

  “And is this the young woman she’s been talking about?” Fleet nods to me as I step up the final step and onto the large stone entrance area.

  “Fleet, this is Hazel. She’s a chalice. Hazel, this is Fleet.”

  “Good to meet you, Hazel. I’m the butler, not that Blade would tell you that. I am the one who will see to your comfort while you’re here. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  I raise my eyebrows. Blade’s upbringing is about a million miles from mine. “This place is… huge.”

  Fleet nods. “It is extremely large. Blade’s grandmother likes a bit of space to roam about in.”

  “Is she…?” I glance at Blade, not sure about etiquette when it comes to asking about a person’s supernatural abilities.

  “My grandmother is a jaguar,” says Blade. “She’s also a wily, sneaky, and cunning old bat, so you best be on your guard.”

  An older woman steps out from the doorway. “It’s good to know what you really think of me, Blade,” she says sternly.

  16

  My stomach drops, and I wish I was anywhere else but here, standing staring between Blade and his sweet little grandmother who he’s just insulted.

  But then Blade laughs and goes up to his grandmother and gives her a big hug. “You know I knew you were there, you old grouch. And you know I love you.”

  “It’s just lucky that you’re so handsome and charming, otherwise you’d end up in a ditch out the back of the property.” Her eyes flash, bright green just like Blade’s. She’s clearly no pushover. She turns to me. “And you must be Hazel.”

  I nod and reach out to shake her hand. “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Blade.”

  “Oh, don’t call me that. My name is Anna. Pleased to meet you too.” She waves away the formalities and gives me a conspiratorial grin. “So what has my grandson been up to? I expect you to give me all the gossip.”

  “I… uh… I don’t really… I don’t have any gossip.” I glance at Blade and I’m pretty sure my face is red. I push my glasses up my nose and try to concentrate on why we’re here. “I’d love to get some information from you, though, if we can.”

  “Come in, come in. Let’s get comfortable, and we can all interrogate each other.” She shepherds us both into the house and nods at Fleet, who disappears, presumably to get tea or coffee, or whatever people drink who live in houses like this.

  She leads us into a large sitting room with enormous windows looking out onto a massive pool and garden at the back of the house. The chairs and sofas are all a delicate cream color and match the patterned wallpaper. There’s a sparkly chandelier in the ceiling, and the carpet is so thick, I’m almost wading through it.

  We sit down, me perched on the edge of my chair, Blade leaning back and looking perfectly comfortable. The door to the room opens and Fleet arrives carrying a tray with cups and saucers, and two options for a drink: tea or coffee.

  “Now, what would you
like to drink?” asks Anna. She looks perfectly comfortable and composed. Which I guess she should because she lives here.

  It’s just me who feels out of place and discombobulated.

  Give me a research lab any day.

  “I’ll grab a coffee, thanks, Fleet,” says Blade. He glances at me, eyebrows raised.

  “I’ll have the same, thanks.”

  “I shall have tea, please, Fleet.” Anna waits patiently as Fleet pours our drinks. “Would anyone like something to eat? I could have the kitchen make something for you?”

  I shake my head automatically, but Blade hesitates. “Has cook got any of those cookies?” he asks.

  “The oatmeal and raisin ones?” asks Anna, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

  Blade nods. “I haven’t had them in ages.”

  Fleet nods and leaves the room. I pick up my coffee and take a sip. It’s a delicious French roast, almost as good as the one Mr. Fookes made me earlier.

  “So, I hope you’re here to tell me you’re going to agree to my request.”

  Blade shakes his head. “No, I’m not. You know why. I don’t know why you keep asking.”

  “It’s important, Blade. We’re at a vital crossroads for the company. We can’t afford to keep dancing around on this matter.” She spares me a glance. “I know you thought bringing Hazel here with you today would spare you the full talk, but I can’t afford to be polite. You must come back to Blade Enterprises and take the helm.”

  Take the helm? I stare at Blade, and my mind boggles. I clutch my coffee cup in my hands, trying not to feel overwhelmed by everything I’m learning about him today.

  “You know how I feel about that, Gram. I’m not the one with the business degree. I’m not the one who knows how to do it. I’d just be a figure head, and that’s the last thing I want to be.”

  Anna waves one hand, dismissing Blade’s words. “Your sister is off hiding in the forest with those boys of hers. She’s not coming home any time soon.”

  “What makes you think I will?”

  “Because you’re more reasonable than she is. I’m getting old. The board of directors is getting restless. They don’t think I’ll be up for the job for much longer.”

  “You’re as strong as an ox,” says Blade.

  “You and I know that, but the board are a bunch of old fuddy-duddies. There have been rumors of an attempted takeover. I just need you to come in, be the figure head, rattle some heads, and then let me keep running the place.”

  “You don’t need me to keep running the place. You’re the one who wrote the book on rattling heads.”

  Anna lets out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know how you deal with him, Hazel. I really don’t. Just as stubborn as his father, and his grandfather.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” says Blade. He puts down his cup of coffee. “Have you ever heard of a company called McKenzie Industries?”

  Anna blinks and leans back. “It used to be run by Isabella McKenzie. Husband died, leaving the whole thing to her. She was a siren, used to use it to her advantage. Walked a tight line between legal and illegal business practices.”

  “So she was definitely a siren? What about the father?”

  “Human as they came. Lovely man, very honourable. She took him for a ride.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She wasn’t afraid of a yelling match in a restaurant. Thrived on it in fact.” Anna gives an elegant shrug. “She made his life much more exciting I suppose. She was all about the high life, and he liked to stay at home. I’ve been to more than one function that involved her creating a scene.”

  “But after he died, didn’t she turn it all around and make the business better?” I ask. That’s the story Connor gave me.

  “She used her supernatural abilities to win contracts she shouldn’t have, if that’s what you mean. She had the old men fawning over her, trying to get in her pants. The SIG refused to get involved, even when it was clear she was using illegal methods of persuasion.”

  “Could they have proved it?” says Blade.

  “They could have if they’d tried. They just didn’t care enough about it to try.” Anna’s whole body showed her disapproval of the SIG’s lack of action.

  “Or she was very good at what she did,” I say, thinking of Connor’s magic curling its way over my skin.

  “You think she did something to the SIG agents?” says Blade.

  “If she had no compunction doing it to everyone else, why do you think she’d be worried about influencing the SIG not to come after her?”

  He nods. “I guess you’re right.”

  “What happened to her?” I ask Anna. “Connor said she died a couple of years ago?”

  “There was a big fire in one of their factories. She happened to be there at the time, as was Connor. Somehow she got trapped and burned along with the rest of the building.”

  “Oh my God. That’s a terrible way to die,” I say, covering my mouth. I think back to Connor’s face at the restaurant. “Connor was there? When she died?”

  “It was a big deal at the time. Apparently there was some talk that perhaps the fire was lit on purpose. But her son, that Connor boy, squashed all the rumors and kept the company on an even keel. It’s doing well now, as far as I can tell.”

  My brain is bugging out a bit at the idea that Connor was there at the same time. It must have been traumatic. No wonder he’s so upset about it, all this time later.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us about him? Or the company? Or his parents?” Blade leans forward, his gaze intent on his grandmother.

  She takes a deep breath and considers his question. “His company is doing well. On the surface, he’s a good businessman. There have been rumors he’s developing something new, but there is nothing to say precisely what it is. Until the rumors are little more substantiated, there’s no way to know if that’s real or not.” She gives another elegant raise of one shoulder. “That is all I know. The business community is small along the Pacific Coast, but I don’t know their particular business well. It doesn’t interact much with ours.”

  I’d love to know what business the Blade family are in. This place indicates they’re doing pretty well at it, whatever it is.

  “Then we have another topic for you, Gram,” says Blade solemnly. “What do you know about chalices?”

  Anna’s eyes flick to me, and I can tell she already knows what I am. Is that because Blade told her? Or are her networks just that good?

  “I don’t know much more than that they have a connection to demons. They’re very rare, very powerful, and they were supposed to have died out in the Americas more than twenty years ago.” She turns to me, and her eyes, sitting in an elegant wrinkled face, are still razor sharp. “There are those who believe you are an abomination. Who will chase you and kill you for just being who you are.”

  I blink. “Pardon me?”

  “You didn’t know? A chalice has the power to overcome demons, and to use that power for themselves. The last time a chalice family got too powerful, it started a world war.”

  “Really?” I squeak the word out. Turning to Blade, I want him to say… something. Maybe tell her it’s not true.

  “Is that why Hazel’s parents were killed?” asks Blade instead.

  “The last two chalices in the Americas were a brother and sister duo. They were killed twenty or so years ago. There was no talk of other family members.”

  “But it runs in families?” asks Blade.

  “It’s supposed to,” says Anna, nodding.

  “But my parents… they were only killed five years ago.” I’m struggling to understand what this means. “Were they chalices?” Images of my parents, both loving and kind, fill my head.

  “One of them must have been, if they really were your parents,” says Anna softly.

  I lean away from her. “You think they weren’t my parents?” I turn to Blade. “None of this makes sense. How do my parents fit in? Am I
related to the brother and sister you’re talking about?”

  Blade shakes his head. “There’s no way to know. Perhaps one of the chalices my grandmother is talking about was one of your parents. Perhaps they somehow faked their own deaths?”

  I clutch onto his explanations like straws. “But if they were chalices, why didn’t they tell me about it? Why all the secrecy? And why didn’t they just kill the demon when it attacked?” My stomach lurches.

  There’s really no good explanation for any of my questions.

  17

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” says Anna soothingly. Unfortunately she then gives Blade a look that says “What the hell is going on?”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have more information? Any of your sources?” Blade’s voice is reassuringly neutral.

  I take a breath. I need to calm down.

  “You could try the voodoo king. Down at the country club.”

  “Palo Alto Hills Country Club?” says Blade with a question in his voice.

  “Where else?”

  “There’s a voodoo king working there?” I say, shocked.

  “He owns it. His mama was a powerful voodoo queen in Mississippi.”

  “Voodoo is real?” I ask in a horrified whisper.

  “Only the ones who’re supernaturals.”

  “What’s his name? Will he meet with us?” says Blade, all business as usual, as if going to a voodoo king is perfectly normal. Maybe it is for him.

  “Freddy Knight. If you tell him you’re my boy, he’ll see you.” Anna seems pretty positive about it. I wonder how well she knows him. Has she used his services? What does a voodoo king look like? I’m imagining all sorts of strange things, like chicken feathers in his hair, and weird dancing at midnight.

  “Then that’s where we’re going to head now.” Blade stands up and nods at his grandmother. I scramble to my feet as well, trying not to show Anna how much my leg is actually hurting as I do it. I look around the elegant room Anna is hosting us in, and I have to assume I’m wrong about my visions of a voodoo king. Someone like Anna surely wouldn’t have anything to do with anything like that?