by Jenny McKane
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow morning,” she promised.
She followed him down the stairs and instead of exiting through the door they’d come through this morning, Gideon led her to a massive garage space. It held at least five different cars—sports cars, SUVs, motorcycles. A couple mountain bikes hung from the ceilings as well.
Did demons mountain bike? The thought seemed ridiculous to her.
He clicked a button on his key ring and a large, black Tahoe chirped alive with the blink of its headlights and a loud revving of the engine.
Sunny jumped in the passenger side and pulled the seatbelt across her body. Despite fighting demons and living on the edge of reality most days, she still held an irrational fear of dying in a fiery crash on some random highway.
“I didn’t realize demons drove cars,” she said without thinking. She hadn’t meant anything by it, but she knew she hit a nerve when Gideon’s knuckles flexed on the steering wheel. He hit the gas as a heavy metal garage door chugged open and they peeled out of the parking lot and into the night.
In the darkness, she studied Gideon’s face in the passing street lamps.
“I don’t know anything about lust demons,” she said slowly. “I don’t know what sort of powers they have, how they kill, or even how they die. Are they like dream demons?”
Gideon shook his head.
“Nothing like them,” he said. Good, at least he was talking to her again. “Dream demons can only work in a human’s dreaming mind. Out in the real world, they’re virtually powerless.”
Sunny disagreed. The nasty little rat she’d shackled had nearly torn her arm off as she fought it down the street to Michael’s penthouse office. But it hadn’t used any sort of magic she realized now. It was a purely physical battle once she’d tracked him down to the youth hostel on the north side.
“Lust demons deal in a much more powerful magic,” he continued. “Dreams aren’t nearly as potent as lust. And demons like Seumat don’t need to hide in the shadows of a dream. She reigns over men out in the open, and most of her victims die willingly, caught in a deadly web of sex, pain, and pleasure. It’s an all-consuming madness that takes over them, and they often don’t realize what’s happening to them.”
“To what end? What’s their goal in crossing the portal and killing mortal men?”
“A man’s sexual compulsions are powerful sources of magic for a lust demon,” he said. “Drain a man of it and a lust demon grows much stronger and harder to stop. It’s an essence they’re seeking and stockpiling.”
Sunny watched the concrete highway pass by out her window, wondering what Seumat was hoping to accomplish.
“So it’s just a power play? She wants to be stronger?”
Gideon shrugged.
“I think it’s more than that,” he said. “She’d be happy to spend her time torturing the slaves she keeps chained to her wall. She’s not overly ambitious when it comes to the human world.”
She didn’t forget the part about him being Seumat’s sexual plaything when Michael introduced Gideon. She felt the tiniest pang of anger deep in the middle of her chest, but immediately dismissed it as nerves. Thinking about the fight to come was messing with her mind.
“Maybe she’s working for Azriel,” she said, finally.
“That would be my guess,” he agreed. “He’s the only demon I know about who has such unabashed ambitions when it comes to enslaving the human race. And the power that Seumat can bring him could definitely make matters messy for the archangels.”
At the mention of the angels, Sunny’s curiosity burned with questions about how Gideon came to be part of this assignment, where he came from, and what he was working towards. But for once, good sense ruled over insatiable curiosity and Sunny kept her questions to herself. Hopefully, she’d live another day to bombard him with everything she wanted to know about a half-man, half-demon hybrid like himself.
“Are we going after Seumat tonight?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t think so. I think we’re on the trail of some of her recruits,” he said. “An acquaintance of mine owns a pleasure club near one of the colleges, and she’s complained about strange occurrences lately. Could be nothing, but it could be something.”
Pleasure club? It sounded kinky, and Sunny couldn’t help but blush. She turned her head and quickly looked out the window.
“This is the wrong assignment for you to be on if you’re a prude,” he said.
Damn, he’d noticed.
“I’m not a prude,” she protested. “I’m just not well versed in sex clubs and kinky stuff like this.”
For the first time in their eleven hours together, Gideon laughed.
“Oh, Sunshine,” he said, her name gliding off his lips like honey. Her stomach tightened at the sound of it. “By the time we’re done, you’re going to be an expert in this ‘kinky’ stuff as you call it. You may even find you like it.”
Sunny’s cheeks flamed. She wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise. He’d managed to make it sound like both at the same time.
Chapter 3
From the outside, the place didn’t look like a sex club.
Sunny had little experience to build on, but for what it was worth, she never expected a place that specialized in orgies, whips, and chains to reside in between a strip mall and a gas station.
“This is it?” she asked, as Gideon found a place to park a few blocks down. He’d pointed it out when they drove past.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I didn’t expect it to be so…suburban-ish.”
Gideon let out a laugh. A very small, very quiet laugh—but it was a laugh nonetheless.
“I suppose all the local medieval castles were already leased out. They had to make do with this nondescript old Victorian.”
She stepped from the Tahoe into the street and let the door fall shut. Gideon began walking toward the building, but Sunny hesitated a moment. She fidgeted with her hair and suddenly wondered if she’d look even more out of place than Gideon had warned her she would. She pulled the hemline of her shirt lower and bit her lower lip. She wouldn’t blend in no matter how hard she tried.
“You prefer to wait here?” Gideon had returned and stood near the truck’s taillights. He didn’t seem annoyed—his tone sounded the smallest bit concerned, actually.
She snapped out of her internal dialogue and shook her head.
“I’m good,” she said. “Let’s go.”
In the past eighteen months since she inherited her brother’s ring, Sunny had found herself in many situations that she didn’t belong in, interacting with beings she didn’t belong with. And what she lacked in education and training, she made up for with bluff. And that’s exactly what she figured she needed to do tonight.
“Can you at least tell me what to expect when we go inside?” she asked, as they started down the uneven and broken sidewalk.
“It’s actually an understated place,” he said. “Anya’s Boudoir was its former name, but the owner, Anya, began to wish for more privacy. It hasn’t been Anya’s Boudoir in at least six years.”
It seemed that he knew a lot about Anya’s Boudoir.
“Lots of time here?” she asked, unable to stop herself.
“Not really,” he said nonchalantly. “But Anya is an old friend of mine. She’s simply a business woman who deals in one of the world’s most lucrative trades.”
“Sex?”
Gideon nodded. Perhaps Anya was an old girlfriend? Sunny shook her head to clear it of the swarm of buzzing questions that threatened to drown out any rational thought she might form. This was ridiculous.
“Yes. Sex is a guaranteed moneymaker, if you know what to offer and you stay beneath the community’s notice.”
When they arrived at the house, Sunny marveled once again at how normal it looked. It had a nice, open front porch that wrapped around the house and was decorated with a bistro table and
two padded chairs.
The large front door was painted a teal blue and swung open before Gideon could form a fist with his large hands and knock.
“Mr. Lafayette,” an older man with a smooth, cultured voice held the door open and motioned for Gideon and Sunny to pass. “It is good to see you.”
“You as well, James,” Gideon matched the polished tone and manners. Not bad for his kind, Sunny mused. She’d only dealt with surly, grumpy Gideon. This high society, well-mannered Gideon was a treat.
“Madame Treinka is waiting in the sitting room for you and your…friend.” The man hesitated over the last word, and Sunny blushed. Did he think they were here for some manner of participation in the night’s agenda?
They followed him through a well-furnished hallway that was decorated with rich mahogany side tables and mirrors and deep, Persian rugs. Somebody had exquisite taste—a far cry from the hook rugs Aunt Lottie whipped up at the senior center and tossed in front of the kitchen sink.
The sitting room was even better stocked. The art and upholstery all bore some variation of robin’s egg blue. It was exquisite—and expensive. Gideon was right—sex surely was a lucrative business.
Gideon walked in front of her through the doorway and momentarily blocked her view. The woman, Anya, had stood when they entered and was embracing Gideon when Sunny found a place against the wall where she could attempt to disappear.
When she broke the embrace she shared with Gideon, the woman stepped aside and studied Sunny, who unabashedly returned the favor. Unable to hide her surprise, Sunny frowned slightly before recovering and composing her face.
Anya was not a sultry, demon-seducing nymph, as Sunny had built her to be in her mind. At least not anymore—where Sunny had imagined a tall, statuesque blonde with amazing curves, Anya was a short brunette with a braid wound around her head, who appeared to be somewhere in her sixties. Her long flowing skirt swished as she stepped forward.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, my dear,” Anya said with the slightest trace of an Eastern European accent, as she pulled Sunny into a full-body embrace. Sunny was momentarily shocked and stood still until Anya pulled away.
“She’s lovely, Gideon,” she said, moving back toward the settee near the window. “But I knew she would be—you deserve no less.”
Gideon smiled but said nothing. Wasn’t he going to correct her? Sunny very nearly corrected her about the status of their non-relationship but stopped when Anya began talking again.
“I’m so very glad you made it,” she said and picked up a teacup and saucer that sat on a side table next to her. She took a delicate sip and set the cup gently down in the saucer. “Something is in the air—fear, perhaps. But I worry that whatever is causing it is moving closer.”
“Whatever, or whomever?” Gideon asked.
“If you’re asking me if I think it’s human, I do not,” she said. “There’s a certain taste of magic in the air that a jilted wife or jealous ex-girlfriend just can’t mimic. I’ve dealt with my fair share of angry women banging on that door looking for their men and this isn’t that.”
Gideon walked to the wingback chair that sat opposite the settee and lowered himself down. He motioned for Sunny to join him in the chair beside him. She did.
“A very good friend of mine was found murdered inside his car shortly after he left here two weeks ago,” Anya continued. “It was just a simple social gathering—the very same we have each month. Besides a few new faces that came as guests of our regulars, there was nothing out of the ordinary. I might normally dismiss Arthur’s death as a random act of violence were it not for the manner in which he died—details a police officer friend of mine was kind enough to share with me.”
Staying silent in this conversation, one she was certain she was merely a guest of and not an actual participant in, was hard. Damn hard for Sunny, who fired off questions faster than most people could answer them.
“Nothing was missing from his person. Arthur’s keys, wallet, phone, and computer were found on the seat beside him, all untouched. What they did find, however, was a man missing his genitals and whose chest was so badly caved in, the medical examiner could not provide an explanation for it.”
Sunny tried not to think about the description Anya had provided, but her overactive imagination could not help itself. A caved-in chest? Missing manhood? She had zero experience with lust demons, but the clues and the crime seemed to point in that direction. She couldn’t wait to get Gideon’s impression.
“Did Arthur bring any guests with him that night?” he asked.
Anya pulled out a long, thin cigarette with an elegant ivory holder and lit it.
“No,” she said after sucking in a long inhalation and lighting the cigarette. “He always attends alone. He has…or had, I should say, a wife that does not understand his tastes.”
Sunny wondered how the wife took the news of a husband with missing genitals and no signs of robbery. Did she wonder if it was a random crime, or would she look into his recent habits and discover she really didn’t know the man she woke up next to each morning?
“And the patrons who brought guests? Have they turned up dead or missing vital organs?” Gideon asked.
Anya shook her head.
“I don’t think so, at least I haven’t read about anything in the papers,” she said. “Like I said, I’ve cancelled any social functions for the rest of the month. If my patrons aren’t scared enough to avoid them, I certainly am. Arthur had strange, often extreme, tastes, but he did not deserve to die like that.”
“Any chance you might have any information about the new faces? Surveillance from the front porch cameras perhaps? Did they sign any disclosures or releases before the party?”
With a slight flick of her wrist, Anya waved her cigarette toward the man who’d showed them in. He nodded and exited the room for a short while before returning with a manila folder.
“I knew you would ask, my dear,” Anya said to Gideon as her employee handed him the folder. “That is all I have. They did not act strangely or raise any warning flags with me—but they were new faces for sure, and given the circumstances of what happened, I don’t trust anyone right now.”
Gideon stood and placed the folder under his arm. Sunny stood as well and was shocked when Anya offered Gideon an outstretched hand and presented her knuckles. Surely a demon wouldn’t…
Yes, actually he would. Sunny was amazed and a little intrigued at the finesse he showed as his full lips brushed the papery thin skin of Anya’s knuckles in a time-tested show of chivalry. Normally, Sunny would mock such a cliché act, but for Gideon, it worked.
They made their way back through the front of the house, and Sunny followed Gideon through the door. The moon was high in the dark sky and lit the way as they walked in silence back to Gideon’s vehicle.
When they were back on the road, he pulled the folder Anya had provided and handed it to Sunny. From the center console, he pulled out a miniature flashlight with a bright LED light for her to use.
“See what you can find,” he said.
“Do you mind if I ask how you know Anya?” Sunny said, clicking the flashlight on. “She wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“You assumed she was a lover of mine?”
It sounded ridiculous when he said it, and it made Sunny seem jealous, which made her blush just a bit, because in all reality, she had been jealous.
“I assumed you had visited her business enough to be on a first-name basis,” she said carefully. “And there wasn’t much else in that house besides the sitting room and doors leading to who knows where.”
“I have known Anya since she was a young woman back in Romania,” Gideon said. “She endured hardships I would not wish on my enemies. I am good to her, and she is good to me because we both know what it feels like to be betrayed and left for dead—physically and emotionally.”
Well, that was something. Sunny nearly came out of her skin with the need to push him for more information,
but again, reason won over curiosity. There would be plenty of time to get to Gideon’s dark past if she didn’t ruin everything with another case of verbal incontinence, a phrase often tossed at her by her Aunt Lottie.
The phone in her back pocket chirped with her obnoxious ringtone, and she dropped the flashlight in her surprise. She pulled the phone free and looked at the caller ID screen.
“Oh no,” she said, reading the screen. “Damn.”
“Who is it?”
“My boss at the station,” she said. “I was supposed to be at work an hour ago. Stanley is going to chew my ass for this—he already hates me.”
Without asking permission, Gideon deftly snatched the phone from Sunny’s hand and flipped it open. He struggled at first and Sunny nearly laughed. She didn’t have the new breed of smartphones yet—she couldn’t afford it. All she could manage was a throwback to a decade ago when flipping a cellphone open was the epitome of advanced technology and watching Gideon wrestle the plastic phone with his thumb and forefinger was both embarrassing and hilarious.
“Who is this?” Gideon demanded, and Sunny blanched.
Sunny heard the nasally voice through the earpiece and rolled her eyes. This was going to get ugly.
Stanley was hardly five feet tall if he even managed that and lived up to every syllable of a Napoleon Complex. She’d never attended his mandatory staff meetings because she would either be in class or asleep, recovering from a ten-hour overnight shift at the station, and no amount of voicemail threats or e-mail warnings from the man swayed her. Add to it the fact that nobody else wanted that particular shift, and Sunny had herself a little job security and one nasty little boss with a giant stick up his ass.
“Mr. Jenks, stop right there,” Gideon said with a clip to his voice. The chattering voice inside Sunny’s phone immediately stopped. “Ms. Bonnard has come down with something serious. It seems her eyesight has drastically improved recently and not only does she now see how measly her paycheck is compared to the hours she’s devoted to your piss poor station, she also sees what a dried-up prick she’s working for, and she can no longer abide by either. Seems you need to hire a new employee and to forward her final check. And never call her again.”
