Green-Eyed Demon (Sabina Kane #3)

by Jaye Wells

  Mac didn’t like that little dose of her own attitude. “I’m Mac Romulus.”

  “She’s Michael’s niece,” Adam added. Rhea’s eyes widened in recognition of the name of an ally.

  “Now that we’ve established we’re all on the same side,” Rhea said pointedly, “I’ll let you go check on your friend as long as you understand I will not hesitate to zap your ass if you cause that fae any unnecessary stress.”

  Mac didn’t need to be told twice. She ran off, brushing between the elder mage and the voodoo priestess. Georgia followed at a more sedate pace, muttering apologies for Mac’s rudeness.

  The werewolf’s departure dispelled some of the heavy vapor of tension hanging over our group. Adam and Giguhl reached the ladies before I did, but we all formed a loose circle. Rhea looked at me. “Shall I assume you don’t need any healing?”

  I touched the back of my hand to the wounds on my cheek. When I pulled it away, only a few small drops of blood smeared my skin. Luckily, the blood I’d chugged on my way down made fast work of the minor injuries I’d sustained from the scuffle.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Good,” Zen said, picking up the conversation. “Because we have something to show you.”

  I frowned at the females. To say I didn’t like Zen’s tone would be an understatement. More like it sent warning bells off in my head. “What is it?”

  Adam stood next to me, and his palm slipped through mine in a sort of preemptive comforting maneuver.

  “You’re going to want to sit down,” Rhea said.

  My stomach sank like an anvil in a pool. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

  Zen and Rhea exchanged a worried glance, then the voodooienne grimaced at me. She reached into the pocket of her work apron. It looked like a wrinkled piece of paper at first. “I found this on the shrine in my parlor.”

  She placed what turned out to be a crumpled Polaroid in my hand. My heart stuttered and a gasp escaped my lips. On automatic pilot, I lifted the picture closer with a shaky hand. Adam leaned toward me to get a better look himself. He cursed under his breath and his hand fisted around mine.

  Smears of blood—Maisie’s?—marred the image. Using my thumb, I rubbed at the stain but only managed to spread it like a red varnish across Maisie’s face. The blood turned her skin and the gag obscuring her mouth pink. Her eyes were narrowed like she was trying to shoot lasers at the photographer. In front of her, she white-knuckled a newspaper bearing Thursday’s date. Under the picture, Lavinia had written in thick black marker, “The clock is ticking.”

  Adam took the picture from me and showed it to Giguhl, who for once didn’t have a witty comment or joke. Smart of him.

  Two emotions battled for dominance inside me. The first was relief. We finally had confirmation Maisie was alive. But it was cold comfort, given the realization we were no closer to knowing her location than we’d been back in Los Angeles.

  The second emotion was more toxic. A combination of anger and guilt that made my stomach cramp and my vision go blurry red. My hands shook with it. I squeezed my eyes shut to block the truth out.

  “Sabina?” Adam said quietly.

  My eyes stung when I opened them. “She’s fucking toying with me.”

  He nodded. “She’s trying to throw you off your game. Don’t give her the satisfaction. Focus on the fact Maisie’s alive.”

  “Call me crazy, but I’m having a hard time focusing on the bright side right now.” I ripped the picture from Giguhl’s claw and shoved it toward Adam’s face. “Look at her! She’s gagged and bound with brass chains, Adam.”

  He took the picture from my fingers and held it up in my face. “No, you look. Does she look like she’s in pain or scared?” I pulled my glare from him and looked again.

  “No,” I admitted. “She looks pissed.”

  “Exactly. That anger will help her survive.” He grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. “But if you let yours get the best of you, it won’t help anyone.”

  Rhea placed a hand on my arm. “Adam’s right. This is upsetting for all of us. But we can’t allow Lavinia’s psychological warfare to distract us.”

  I took a deep breath, both pushing down the anger and tightening my mental defenses at once. Rhea was right—I wasn’t the only one here who cared about Maisie. Rhea and Adam had known her longer than I had, yet here they were comforting me. Shame at my selfishness coated my insides.

  Giguhl held up a single talon. “Guys, I hate to add fuel to this fire, but we’ve got a more immediate issue to deal with. Lavinia knows where we’re staying.”

  Zen nodded resolutely and stepped forward. “Actually, that’s not the worst of it.” We all looked at her, bracing ourselves for whatever her verdict was going to be. “Until we figure out who’s been spying on us, finding a safer place to stay will be impossible.”

  Adam crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his chin. “The first thing we need to do is set up a watch. Sabina and I will take turns—obviously Sabina gets the night shifts.”

  “Adam, that’s crazy. How are we going to make any progress if we’re on opposite schedules and spending all our time waiting to be attacked?”

  “She has a point, Adam,” Rhea said. “We can ward the entrances and exits as a precaution.”

  “I still say we need someone on watch, at least at night when the attack is more likely.”

  Giguhl raised a claw. “What about me?”

  I shot the demon a grateful look. He really was the perfect candidate for the job. He didn’t have my pesky day/night issues and, even though I rarely admitted it, he was probably the most powerful being of our little trio. Demons are notoriously hard to kill, and Giguhl’s mischievous personality also made him pretty wily in a fight.

  “That would be a big help, Giguhl. Thanks.”

  His horizontal pupils flickered in surprise. “Really?”

  I frowned. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

  He tilted his head. “No, it’s just you usually argue when I volunteer for jobs.”

  My conscience prickled. He was totally right. “Well, your little talk the other night helped me realize I need to start treating you like a real member of this team. So, yes, I’d like you to take point of the perimeter. Please,” I added for good measure.

  Giguhl stood up with a satisfied smile on his black lips. “You won’t be sorry, Red. I’ll keep the perimeter tighter than a nun’s cooch.” With that charming metaphor, he ran off to begin securing the building. The four of us remaining watched him go for a moment before Adam cleared his throat.

  “Now that that’s settled, what are we going to do about this spy situation?”

  Rhea looked around. “Do you all really believe Lavinia has someone watching you?”

  Zen, Adam, and I formed an arc of nodding heads. “Someone close enough to know our plans. Otherwise, how did they know when to attack last night when none of us were here?”

  “And the two Garden District incidents,” Adam said, referring to the dearly departed Stryx and the Count’s vamp gang.

  “Speaking of,” Zen said, “how did the patrols go tonight?”

  Adam grimaced. “Nada. Not one sign of Lavinia in the French Quarter tonight. Of course, you called before we made it over this way. But I haven’t had a chance to ask Giguhl—”

  Zen spoke up then. “While you two were inside checking the place out, he told me they didn’t find anything, either.”

  “Any word from the spirit world?” Adam asked Zen and me.

  The voodooienne and I exchanged a look. “Not as such, no,” I said finally.

  Rhea’s eyes went all squinty and suspicious. “What?”

  I quickly filled Rhea in on the ritual we’d planned on doing, stopping just short of the unanticipated outcome.

  “So what happened?” Adam asked. His expression matched his aunt’s. They knew we were hiding something.

  “Wait a second,” Rhea said. “You did warn Zen about your Chthonic powers first, right?”r />
  My eyes shifted left. “Um.” Zen crossed her arms and tapped her toe on the ground, shooting accusing looks between Adam and me.

  “No,” she said. “And neither did you, old friend.”

  “What am I missing?” Adam said.

  I continued to avoid everyone’s gaze, so Zen took over. “What you missed was Miss Thang over here summoning a revenant.”

  “Rev—you mean a zombie?” Adam shouted.

  Rhea’s mouth dropped open. “Good gods. What were you thinking, Sabina?”

  The combined force of their judgment brought my hackles up. “I made a mistake, okay? But I also cleaned up the mess.”

  Zen nodded reluctantly. “It’s true. She did manage to kill it. Eventually.”

  I crossed my arms and shot the mages an I-told-you-so look. But Zen wasn’t done. “It’s just a shame the owl had to die before she could get the answers she needed.”

  “Owl?” Rhea said. “You mean Stryx?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “But the ritual wasn’t a total loss. Kevin”—at their blank stares, I explained—“that’s the zombie, did manage to translate the owl’s screeches for a few seconds. Mostly it was a lot of calling for his master. But he did say a couple of strange things.”

  Everyone looked at me expectantly. I sighed, knowing what I was about to say would make them question my sanity. “He said ‘big box’ and,” I paused, “ ‘cat piss.’ ”

  Adam’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “No idea. But I’d just asked where Maisie was when he said it. After the box and the cat thing, he said ‘Master come’ and ‘Kane.’ ” I shrugged. “Maybe they’re clues.”

  “So basically other than knowing you can summon zombies, which is kind of awesome by the way,” Adam said, shooting me an admiring glance, “all we have to go on is a picture of Maisie and vague references to boxes and cat urine?”

  Rhea sighed heavily. “This is not good at all. The Council anticipated far more progress by now,” she said. “I’m wondering if we should consult with Orpheus.”

  “What?” Adam said. “No. What if he tells us to pull out of the city to regroup? We can’t leave Maisie here.”

  “Orpheus wouldn’t do that to Maisie. Most likely he’d want to send in reinforcements.”

  I frowned. “But I thought warm bodies were in short supply.”

  “I’ve been having some success with my recruiting efforts. Just before I came here I convinced several Chicago-area mages to join the cause. Maybe we can persuade Orpheus to bring the war to Lavinia before she can succeed in her plans with the Caste.”

  “No,” I said. “We’re close. I can feel it. As much as I hate what happened to Brooks, Adam was right. Lavinia is trying to unsettle us. That tells me she’s worried we’ll figure out her scheme. Plus, we’re not totally dead in the water. We still need to talk to Brooks.”

  Rhea opened her mouth to continue, but a loud squeak got our attention. On the second floor, Georgia leaned out of the window she’d forced open.

  “Brooks is awake.”

  21

  Rhea and Zen entered first, leaving Adam and me to linger in the doorway of the crowded room. Apparently, Giguhl had heard Mac’s call, too, because he already sat by Brooks’s hip.

  “Hey, guys!” the faery called from the bed, his voice surprisingly chipper. Hard to tell how genuine the reaction was, given his appearance.

  Mac and Georgia obviously waited a few minutes to call us up. The tattered, blood-smeared dress he’d had on earlier was gone. His new wig, a simple black bob, and large Jackie O sunglasses accessorized a pink housecoat. Only the lower portion of his face was visible around the huge shades. The pink gloss shining on his lips accentuated his unblemished complexion.

  Zen and Rhea approached the bed, leaning in to consult with the fae. Giguhl rose to give them a moment and approached us. I whispered to him and Adam, “I’m surprised they put him back in drag.”

  Giguhl responded in an equally quiet tone. “After the violence he endured, he probably feels safer behind the costume. More able to dissociate from the reality of it.”

  I didn’t even try to act surprised at such an insight coming from the demon. Mostly because I suspected he was right.

  I certainly wasn’t a stranger to hiding behind a facade to deal with things. Ironic, though that Brooks’s reaction to feeling vulnerable was to sink further into a persona many considered weak. While my own reaction was to deny any vulnerability whatsoever. Regardless of our differing methods, my heart went out to him. Yet another reason to find out what the hell had happened so I could make Lavinia and her goons pay.

  I excused myself from Adam and Giguhl and went to talk to Brooks. “Hey,” I said, approaching the bed.

  His head angled toward me, but I couldn’t see his eyes through the dark lenses. “How are you feeling?”

  “Never better, honey.” He flashed his pearly whites, but tension shadowed the smile.

  Mac stepped up. She turned her back to me and addressed everyone else. “He was just about to tell us what happened.”

  “She,” the drag queen corrected. A knife’s edge of tension made his tone higher than usual

  Several tense looks zinged among the rest of us. Zen recovered first and patted Brooks’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready? It can wait.”

  “Actually, I feel amazing. If someone”—he jerked his head toward Mac—“hadn’t threatened me, I’d already be out of this bed.”

  “You’re gonna stay put, and that’s that,” the were said, crossing her arms. Brooks looked around for an ally in his bid to rise but found none. Instead of arguing further, he lay back against the pillows with a huffy breath.

  “Fine,” he said. “The truth is I don’t remember much.”

  Giguhl patted his arm. “Just tell us what you do remember. Start with what happened right after we left.”

  “Mac called about ten minutes later and told me she was calling off the show. I was worried because she wouldn’t give me any details, but her voice sounded real strained and angry.” He looked up at Mac. “What happened?”

  I’ll give Mac this—she’s got a convincing poker face. “It’s not important right now. Keep talking.”

  Brooks’s lips puckered up. “Fine, be that way.” Obviously he thought Mac was hiding some juicy gossip. “Anyway, I’m ashamed to admit I threw a bit of a diva fit after I got off the phone. There I was all dressed up and no place to go. So I decided to fix myself a martini and call some of my girls to see if they were free to go out.”

  Up until that point, his tone was breezy and bitchy—like Pussy Willow—but when he continued, the snark was gone. “I was on the second step when I heard the crash at the back door.” He swallowed hard. “At first I thought it might be you guys, but then I saw the hoods.”

  I stepped forward. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean some KKK shit.” He mimicked pulling a hood over his face. “Only these were red—except for one dude who wore black. Before I could figure out what the hell was going on, about a dozen of the assholes swarmed me. I tried to run, but my Cleopatra costume was designed for lounging on a settee, not running from robed madmen. Anyway, I tripped. Lost my wig.” His voice cracked. I imagined if he’d removed the glasses, his pupils would be dilated with remembered fear. “A few split off and started tearing shit up in the store while the rest carried my livid ass up to the third floor. I fought them as hard as I could, but…” He trailed off.

  “Was there a female vampire with them? Lavinia?” I asked.

  Brooks shook his head. “No, just the dudes. At least I think they were all dudes—hard to tell with the hoods and the no-talking thing.”

  I frowned. “No talking?”

  “Yeah. From the minute they came in until they finally stopped hurting me, none of the bastards said anything. The guy in the black robe, he seemed to be in charge. But he just stood to the side chanting something, never spoke to the others.
The ones who… beat me, they didn’t look at him, either. Just moved real methodical. Like they were programmed or something.” Brooks shivered. “Creepy.”

  “I hate to ask this,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, “but did any of them bite you?”

  Another shake. “They weren’t vamps, I don’t think. No magic, either.”

  “You said the one guy chanted. Were they doing some sort of ritual?” Adam asked.

  The fae hesitated, swallowing hard. Paler than when we’d come in. I wasn’t sure if it was the emotional stress of rehashing things, or the physical toll of everything catching up, but I knew pretty soon Zen and Rhea would kick us out. Before that happened, I needed to know whose ass I needed to go medieval on.

  I grabbed his clammy hand and gave him a reassuring smile. “I know this is hard, but it’s important. What exactly did they do to you?”

  Mac lurched forward, her expression confrontational. But Rhea grabbed the were’s arm and shook her head.

  Brooks missed the exchange because his gaze was on me. At least I think it was. Hard to tell with the sunglasses. “After they hit me for a while,” he began, pausing to collect himself, “they tied me to the bed. I couldn’t see much because of the blindfold.” He swallowed hard as the first tears spilled from under the glasses and onto his cheeks. “They cut me. Deliberate shallow slashes. It was the black-hood guy. I recognized the voice. And each time he cut, he’d say, ‘Master Mahan, accept this sacrifice.’ ”

  The tears flowed freely now. I placed my other hand on his, trying to lend some of my strength.

  “Who is Master Mahan?” Georgia asked.

  “He’s the leader of the Caste of Nod,” Adam said. “Did they say anything else?”

  Brooks sniffed and managed to get a hold of himself. “Just after they tied me up, one of the others came in and told the leader he couldn’t find the owl.”

  I blinked. “They were trying to find Stryx?”

  He nodded. “Black Hood seemed pretty pissed the owl wasn’t here. Knocked me around some more until I admitted you’d taken him with you. Then he seemed almost scared, like he was going to be in big trouble.”