Personal Demon

by Kelley Armstrong

  "Looking for us?" Karl said as we neared them. "My apologies. You keep the restrooms well hidden, it seems."

  The lie came blithely, accompanied by an air that said he really didn't give a damn whether they believed him or not.

  Karl extended a hand to the older man. "Karl Marsten."

  "Hector Cortez. This is my brother, Carlos."

  Carlos ignored Karl and took my hand. "I'd guess this lovely young lady is Hope Adams, but I don't think I could be so lucky."

  He flashed a smile meant to be as charming as his words, but both carried a smarmy note that set my teeth on edge.

  Hector and Carlos Cortez, two of Lucas's three half-brothers. I'd been wondering whether Benicio himself would come to collect us or would send someone instead. When it came to Cabal relations with werewolves or vampires, every nuance would be noticed and analyzed by the entire corporation.

  Only in the last decade had the werewolves reentered the larger supernatural world. As evidenced by the way Karl had been treated, they were still viewed with a combination of curiosity and trepidation. Some weren't happy that Benicio had initiated contact with Jeremy Danvers, the werewolf Alpha. Sending his sons to meet us was a small step back, but perhaps the politically shrewd move.

  "Karl. Hope."

  Footfalls sounded behind us and we turned to see Benicio approaching from the other end of the floor, Troy behind him.

  "Meetings never run on schedule, do they? Come along then. We'll talk in my office."

  As we followed Benicio, I couldn't help smiling. A deft move. In accompanying Karl personally, Benicio could not be accused of any slight against a werewolf envoy. Yet those who didn't want to see their leader treating the Alpha--via his proxy--as an equal would argue that Benicio had sent his sons but, after an accidental hallway encounter, the only civil thing to do was take us himself. Another lesson learned.

  BENICIO LED US through a tiny reception area, then dismissed Troy to an adjoining room.

  We entered what was--from the photos on the desk--clearly Benicio's private office, but it wasn't much larger than the waiting room. Still it certainly was the best real estate in the building, overlooking Biscayne Bay, with an amazing floor-to-ceiling window that showcased the view.

  "You must be here to discuss my arrangement with Hope," Benicio said as he waved us to chairs. "But I'm not sure this was wise, bringing her in when she's supposed to be undercover."

  "No?" Karl settled into his chair. "Then I guess you'll have to abort the mission."

  My knees locked before I could drop into my chair. I shot a look at Karl, certain now that he'd invited me along because he knew it could mark the end of my job.

  "Did you introduce her to anyone on your way in?" Benicio asked.

  "Of course not. I simply presented myself as a Pack envoy, except to your sons, who also figured out who Hope was. But I presume they'll be discreet."

  I relaxed. While Karl might have hoped this "indiscretion" would force the end of my mission, he hadn't done anything that would put me at risk.

  "I presume you want to join Hope in repaying this debt?" Benicio said.

  "I'm considering it."

  And that was it. No accusations of reneging on a deal. It was as if both men acknowledged what had happened, and were mutually agreeing to move past the pointless blame and recriminations stage to get down to business.

  "First, though," Karl continued, "I want to know what you're withholding from Hope."

  Benicio walked to a table with a pitcher of iced tea and glasses. Stalling? Or subtly reminding Karl of civilities?

  I accepted the tea; Karl did not.

  Benicio handed me my drink, then sat with his own. "If you're referring to the problems Hope mentioned to Troy, we're still looking into that." He glanced at me. "Were you able to get any details?"

  "I tried yesterday, with the guys who originally mentioned them. They assured me everything was under control and I didn't need to worry. I'll press for more when I can."

  "Is there anything else?" Karl asked Benicio.

  "In that matter, we were withholding nothing, so no, there's nothing else. You have my assurance that this job is exactly as I outlined it to Hope."

  They locked gazes. I tried to read vibes, but picked up nothing to suggest Benicio was lying. Of course, knowing my powers, he wouldn't be foolish enough to let an incriminating thought form.

  After a moment, Benicio said, "If my assurance isn't enough, Karl, then consider that the Cortez Cabal is on better terms with the werewolf Pack than it ever has been, and certainly on better terms with it than the other Cabals are. That's an advantage I intend to keep. I'd gain nothing by endangering it, which is what I'd do if I deliberately misled a Pack member."

  A moment's consideration, then Karl said, "I want in, then. In light of these allegations by the gang and their obvious antagonism toward the Cabal, I think you'll agree that Hope's task is more dangerous than you expected."

  "Perhaps."

  "I presume you have a tracking device on her? In the identification cards you gave her?"

  I looked over sharply. Benicio nodded.

  "Good," Karl said. "I'll want a GPS linked to that transmitter. I also want Hope to have a panic button, connected to me. Disguise it as something a young woman might carry in her pocket at all times--a coin, a mirror, lipstick, anything that won't look suspicious."

  "Done."

  "I also want your assurance that if, at any time, I feel--" a glance my way, "--Hope and I feel she's in imminent danger, she can abort and the debt is paid."

  I expected Benicio to balk, since there was nothing to stop us from pretending I felt endangered, but he simply said, "Agreed." Maybe he trusted me. Or maybe Karl was right and Benicio knew I got more from this mission than the satisfaction of relieving a debt.

  Benicio and Karl hashed out specifics. Then Benicio made a call downstairs to have us outfitted with Karl's technological demands.

  HOPE

  BRUSH-OFF

  As the technician explained to Karl how the GPS worked, I took a trip to the restroom. Coming back, I was waylaid by Carlos. He didn't make any excuse for being in the laboratory wing, probably thinking I'd be flattered that he'd tracked me down.

  He tried the same routine Troy had--I was new to the city and he could show me around. From Troy, though, the offer had been casual and friendly. If I'd taken him up on it and wanted nothing more than an escort, he'd be fine with that. With Carlos, there was no such subtlety.

  "I'll give you my card," he said. "You want to go out, you call. I'll show you a good time. Guaranteed."

  He extended the card. Before I could take it, it was snatched by a hand appearing around me.

  "She's not interested," Karl said.

  "I think she can tell me that herself."

  "She doesn't need to. I just did. Now, if you'll excuse us..."

  Karl put his arm around my waist and led me away. When we reached the elevator, I slipped from his grasp.

  "I thought you want me dating more supernaturals. What's wrong with that one? He's closer to my age, wealthy, gorgeous--"

  "--with a reputation for leaving girls in worse shape than he finds them. And with your powers--"

  "--he's hoping I'd get off on it. I caught a few vision scraps, enough to know his reputation is warranted, which is why I stood for your 'hands off my property' routine."

  Karl grunted.

  "Given the choice between insulting a Cabal son and letting him think I'm otherwise engaged, I'll go with option B. But if you try that with anyone else, you'll get a very different reaction."

  I said it lightly, teasing him, and expected a retort, but he just watched the floors of the elevator count down, then stepped off when the doors opened.

  "YOU DIDN'T GIVE me much of a choice in there," I said as we walked down the street. "I didn't want to argue in front of Benicio. But I don't need--"

  "--protection. I believe I've heard this before."

  I kept my tone
even. "If you want to repay the debt, that's fine. You go off and do your thing, I'll hang out here and do mine, and we'll say you protected me. No one will be the wiser."

  He turned a corner so sharply that I went another three steps before realizing he wasn't beside me, and had to backtrack.

  "I'm just saying you don't need to protect me. I don't need it, and I don't really want it."

  "And you think I do? You think I like having to drop everything and fly out to Miami to see what kind of trouble you're getting into this time? You think I'm looking forward to spending the next few days skulking in shadows keeping an eye on you?"

  I stumble-stepped, stunned, then stopped.

  "You don't have a choice," he said, back to me, still walking. "And, apparently, neither do I."

  He jaywalked across the road and strode away. I stared after him, unable to believe what I'd heard. I'd never asked for his protection. He was the one who chased after me, fretted about me and hovered over me. I wanted to go after him. To pound on his back and shout, "How dare you!"

  Self-centered, arrogant bastard.

  What a shock.

  I turned and headed back to the main road, managing a graceful exit, should he turn to see it. But I knew he wouldn't.

  I HADN'T FOUND a cab yet when my cell phone rang. I scrambled to grab it, eager even when I didn't want to be. Then I realized it was the gang phone.

  "Hey," Jaz said when I answered.

  "Hey, yourself," I said with a genuine smile. "I was going to call you this morning, but I don't have your number."

  "It should be on your phone. Rodriguez--"

  "--programmed it in. Okay, I feel like an idiot. I completely forgot."

  "No problem. I'd have called earlier, but I didn't want to wake you. Figured you might be a little rough after the tequila."

  "A little."

  "Anyway, uh, I wanted to call and say I'm sorry about last night."

  "You? If apologies are due, they should come from me. It's just--well, after the problems with my folks, I freaked out."

  Pause. My heart started hammering. Did he doubt my story? I instinctively tried to read his vibes but, of course, I couldn't over the phone.

  "I'm sure there was a problem with your parents," he said finally. "I know what that's like. But, well, I wouldn't blame you if you went outside last night, got some fresh air, cleared your head and realized that going back in wasn't what you wanted."

  "No, that's not--"

  "I was pushing it. Pushing hard. I could tell the tequila was going to your head, and I took advantage of that. I was riding high, not just on the booze. After a big job I get...pumped, I guess you'd say. I got carried away."

  "You weren't the only one. In fact, I'm pretty sure I started things. But, yes, it was a little...public, after I thought about it."

  "Which is cool with me. Would a private lunch be more your style, then?"

  I smiled. "It would."

  He gave me an address where I could meet him in an hour, just enough time to change, put on the watch he'd given me and slide back into being Faith Edmonds.

  JAZ TOOK ME to an upscale tapas bar with the assurance, as we walked in, that he was buying. Obviously, Faith could afford a nice meal, but he seemed to think it was only polite to announce that he was paying when he'd made an expensive choice. From the way he grinned as we walked in, his arm around me, he was happy to be taking me to a place he considered more my style.

  Had he not been flush after collecting his share from Guy, this would be a luxury he couldn't afford. From the clues I'd picked up, Jaz's and Sonny's parents had worked menial jobs for the Cabal. They'd grown up in working-class lives that had dipped dangerously close to the poverty level after they left home. To them, joining the gang was like winning a lottery, and as much as I'd love to tell Jaz to keep his money, I knew this was important to him. I kept my mouth shut, ordered a moderately priced meal and enjoyed it.

  As we ate, I knew I should ask more about the gang-Cabal encounters, but I wasn't eager to remind myself I was here under false pretenses. When conversation did circle to the gang, Jaz started it. He'd talked to Guy that morning. It seemed the police hadn't been notified about the heist. The Herald had run a tidbit about the contribution after Guy's tip-off, and he'd delivered the money, via courier, to the agency.

  "Guy might not say it, but he was really pleased with your idea about the charity. He said it was brilliant."

  I must have looked surprised.

  He laughed. "Yeah, he let it slip that it was your idea. But only to me. As far as everyone else knows, it was his. Which is for the best. Saves you from getting crap from the others, who don't appreciate handing over a cut of their share to charity."

  "Are you okay with that?"

  "Sure. With Guy's original plan, the robbery would have been reported. That's not a big deal--Guy knows his stuff and we haven't had the cops sniff around since I joined. The big concern, though, is the Cabals. The minute it showed up in the paper--hell, the minute it went out on the police scanner--the Cortezes would know it was us. Then they'd make sure we know they have us covered."

  "In other words, letting you know they're watching."

  "And, even if we don't need their help, we're--" He chewed as he searched for a word. "--obligated to them. Reminds me of this guy I knew in school. His uncle was a politician who'd always take his nieces and nephews aside and tell them, if they ever got in any trouble with the cops, even a speeding ticket, just come to him. Well, my friend never got a single ticket, but when his uncle needed help campaigning, you can bet he called the 'debt' in. With the Cortezes, they don't call in the debt. They just let it hang over our heads, which drives Guy crazy."

  "I'm sure it does." A sentiment voiced with complete sincerity, having lived with just such a ticking bomb for two years.

  "Your scheme, though, meant it was never reported to the cops, meaning the Cabal won't be on Guy's back about it. So he's grateful."

  And here was my chance, as much as I hated to take it. "I suppose he's especially sensitive about that now, after the recent problems..."

  "Yeah."

  Jaz took a drink of his beer. I struggled against the urge to let it drop, and tell Benicio I couldn't get anything more. I reminded myself why I was here and felt a prickle of unease that I needed the reminder.

  "Is that what it's been about?" I pressed. "These dustups? About the gang owing the Cabal for its protection?"

  "Some of it. Normally, like I said, the Cabal just lets us know we're covered, maybe raps our knuckles if we call too much attention to ourselves. But the last big job we pulled?" He shook his head. "They went all Sopranos on our heads."

  "What happened?"

  He hesitated, as if he shouldn't go on, but the urge to talk won out. "It was the next afternoon. Sonny and I collected our share, and we were heading back to our place, goofing off, buzzed by the windfall. Sure, we had our guard down but, shit, it was the middle of the day, and South Beach isn't exactly downtown Miami. But on this back road, we get jumped by four guys. Two in front, two behind, cutting us off. A magician's powers are nearly useless in a fight. And, I gotta admit, I'm not much of a brawler. Sonny neither. Just not our thing. So we see these four guys surrounding us and we didn't put up any resistance. They must have been disappointed, 'cause one smacks me into a wall. When Sonny jumps in to help me, he gets a pistol in the temple."

  "Shit."

  "And they say we're the thugs. You should have seen these guys. Wearing golf shirts and slacks like they're off for a day on the course. Only time they swing a club is to bash someone's head in. Anyway, Sonny and I, we're down for the count, barely conscious and I'm looking at these guys in their nice shirts and slacks and dress shoes, probably ten years older than me, and I'm not getting it, you know. I'm still thinking this is just a mugging, or maybe a case of mistaken identity.

  "Then the leader starts yammering on about the gang, and how we're overstaying our welcome, getting too big for our britches--what
ever cliches he could come up with. It takes me a while, 'cause I'm still out of it, but finally it clicks: shit, these guys are from the Cortez Cabal."

  "Did they say so?"

  He nodded. "They went on about how we were pissing off Mr. Cortez, and we needed to remember our place or he'd show it to us. Then they took our cut and left us there."

  "They robbed you?"

  "Can you believe it? Shit, they probably pull in that much a week. I figure they were just being jerks, but Guy says they took the money to say that everything we earn, we owe to them. He says that sounds like Benicio."

  The message, yes. But the delivery? No.

  I'd heard of other Cabals pulling stunts like this. The Cortezes were no less ruthless, but such thuggery wasn't Benicio's usual style. Maybe he thought that was the only language the gang would understand. But from what Benicio said about Guy, he knew he wasn't a dumb brute. To maintain a level of respect, Benicio would approach him in a more civilized way. This sounded more like rogue elements in the Cabal.

  I considered raising the possibility, but my position was too precarious to start defending Benicio Cortez. Brokering peace was a job best left to the professionals. For now, I'd gotten a little more information and could push duty aside, relax and enjoy lunch with Jaz.

  HOPE

  REBOUND

  As we were leaving, Jaz grabbed my hand and ducked into a side hall. At the end was a locked door. A flick of a credit card and we were inside an intimate private lounge.

  Only two security lights lit the room and we had to pause just beyond the door. After a minute, I could make out a few tables and a small bar.

  Still holding my hand, Jaz led me into a darkened nook beside the bar. Then, without a word, he pulled me to him in a kiss. I could feel his heart hammering. From the thrill of the break-in, I presumed, but when he pulled back, there was trepidation in his eyes, lifting only when I leaned in for another kiss.

  "Whew," he breathed.

  "Not so sure of your welcome?"

  "I wanted to make sure last night was about being in a public place, not about me."

  "It definitely wasn't you."

  Another kiss, starting slow. My head spun again as that delicious aura of chaos swirled from him. Soon we were on the floor, my legs wrapped around his hips, his hands in my hair, kissing me hard enough to bruise my lips, but I didn't care.