by E. A. Copen
Guess that made sense. Most of Hell probably didn’t know she had no interest in wearing her father’s crown. They’d fear her. She’d have an established reputation as a killer, despite Lucifer’s damage to it.
I held out my hand, gesturing for him to hand the ciggy back. “So where would they take it? Here?”
Valefor took one last puff before handing it back. The damn thing was little more than a stub already. Greedy bastard. “Souls are good currency. Hers would be worth a lot, especially to a mortal looking to expand his power base in the supernatural world, or some minor god. Not to mention, it could be used as blackmail. Anybody would want it, but it’d be a dangerous thing to hold onto. You’d have to have balls the size of coconuts and a private army to back it up. Khaleda’s not known for being kind to people who betray her.”
Oh, she’s a handful all right. “Thanks for the info. I’ll look into it. Say, who’re you working for these days with old Lucy gone?”
He shrugged. I’d never seen a dog shrug before. “Lying low for now. Let the bastards kill each other, and when the dust settles, the Hellhounds will support whoever’s got the best odds. I don’t like to hedge my bets. You know that.”
“I do.” Same old Valefor. I dropped the ciggy to the linoleum floor and ground it out. “Give the wife my love, would you?”
He grinned, showing pointed teeth. “Try not to die, Josiah. I enjoy our little chats. Now release me before I burn this whole block down.”
Hellhounds. Fuckin’ drama queens.
I spread my arms, murmured the chant in reverse, and called the power back to me. The circle broke, shattered with the withdrawal of power. New calm settled in the air as if the world itself had exhaled. Milly crawled down to hang on my chest over my still-pounding heart, and I collapsed on the bed, exhausted.
An hour of sleep, maybe two, and I’d be ready to go again. Hopefully, Khaleda could bleach her hair by herself, because I wasn’t getting up to play salon.
My body humming with the satisfaction of spent magic, I drifted off into a well-deserved sleep.
Chapter Five
KHALEDA
I came through the door of the hotel room and found Josiah passed out on the bed. He didn’t even wake up when I slammed the door. How could he be so tired after doing nothing? I was the only one who’d actually done any fighting. All he did was get himself choked, smoke, and draw trouble. Why did I need him again?
I shifted the towel on my shoulders and wrapped a strip of foil on a strand of hair. Because he knows people. I don’t. He’d promised to get me a passport, ID, and social security number that would hold up under even the highest scrutiny. That was the only reason I’d put up with him as long as I had.
Then there was this business with God’s Hand. He’d called them a Special Forces arm of the Vatican. Since when did the Vatican have an army? I’d been around the world, murdered countless diplomats, commanders, and dictators and never run into them.
Maybe it’s because of what he is. I leaned through the bathroom door to glance at him, sprawled out on the bed, face-down and snoring. He wasn’t much to look at, was he? A haggard face with permanent worry lines carved into his forehead, pronounced aquiline nose, always enough facial hair to look more scruffy than rugged… Josiah leaned more toward waifish than powerful in build. He was about as threatening as a coat rack to look at.
Yet he’d been instrumental in helping kill Father. I’d felt his magic wrap around me when he carried me out of Hell, cradling me like a second pair of strong, protecting arms. It felt like a thick, impenetrable shield. He’d held it steady enough it barely seemed like any effort at all. The things I’d seen him do when he set his mind to it made it seem like he rivaled the Horsemen in power.
Maybe he wasn’t much to look at, but he was the best mage I’d ever met. If he was worried about God’s Hand tracking us down, I should be more concerned.
With my hair set, I shut the bathroom door and slid off the sweats. While I was at the drugstore, I picked up a few razors and decided it was high time to start taking care of myself, especially if I was going to be around Josiah. He’d find any reason to pick at me, critical bastard. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, not anymore. He’d be pissed I spent his money on expensive pink razors. Good. I’d make sure to leave the razors out where he’d see them just so he’d know.
I should’ve gotten more wine too, I thought and put my leg up on the side of the bathtub to shave it.
Something moved on the shower curtain just above eye level. I raised my gaze and locked eyes with a big, hairy spider the size of my hand. The razor clattered into the tub, and I let out an involuntary scream before jumping back.
The bathroom door crashed open, and a wide-eyed Josiah teetered in the doorway, brown hair sticking straight up. He looked at me.
I pointed at the spider. Inside, I was already cussing myself out. I should’ve had better control. Shrieking over a spider? Oh, he was going to have a field day with that.
“Milly!” Josiah exclaimed and shouldered past me to scoop the spider off the shower curtain. “Fuck me, I must’ve fallen asleep without putting the old girl up.”
I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath through my nose and counted to three. “Josiah, why the fuck is there a tarantula in our hotel room?”
“She wouldn’t’ve hurt you, Khaleda. Poor girl, you’ve scared her!”
“I scared her?” I glared at him, jaw unhinged.
He urged the spider onto his shoulder and she scampered behind his collar. “She weighs less than half a pound, and she’s no bigger than a teacup! Of course, she’s scared of you! Look at ’er!”
I started to scream for him to take his damn spider and get out, but hesitated, watching as he fiddled with the tarantula, trying to get her to come out. Instead, the little eight-legged monster cowered behind him like a frightened child while he cooed at it. It was the first time I’d seen him care about another living creature’s well-being. Well, maybe there was more to this asshole than first seemed. I filed that information away for later use.
Instead of yelling, which would get me nowhere, I crossed my arms. “Sorry I scared your spider. Now, would you please go?”
His face twitched as if he’d been slapped before a smug smile crept onto his lips. “Someone mark the calendar. I believe that was a genuine apology followed by a ‘please.’ You’ve expanded your vocabulary!”
“Fuck you. Get out.” I pointed to the door.
“There’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl! I’m not your anything!” I shoved him toward the door only to step back when the spider reared up as if to attack.
“Easy, girl,” Josiah said to the spider. “She’s on our side.” He turned around on the other side of the door and gave me a wink.
I slammed the door in his face. A spider for a pet. Could he be any weirder? Something was broken in that man’s brain.
Because I could, I took extra long in the bathroom, going over various revenge scenarios in my mind. There was no way he’d just fallen asleep and forgotten about the giant spider he’d left to roam the room. It was a play, a dig at me, maybe even an excuse for him to get a chance to see me naked again. He’d been trying to get in my pants since we’d landed in New York, despite shoving everyone else at me too. Yet every scenario I could come up with left him impervious. He was virtually unshakable. No matter what I did to him, he’d just light up a cigarette, make a quip and pretend it didn’t bother him. I’d never seen him shaken, but he’d leave an opening sometime. No man was perfect. I’d find the chink in his armor, just as I’d done to a thousand other men. And when I did, he’d regret crossing me.
I smiled to myself as I finished up my hair. Be careful what you wish for, Josiah.
When I came out of the bathroom, the spider was gone. Josiah stood beside the bed, staring at an image on the laptop screen, hands on his skinny hips.
I stopped dead in my tracks to take him in. He’d changed his clothes. I’d
never seen him in anything other than a dirty t-shirt, plain black pants, and work boots. Today, he’d put on a sharp navy blue button-down and dress pants. Ironed dress pants. Did our room even have an iron?
“Who died?” I asked, coming to stand beside him.
He dropped his hands from his hips. “What? No one.”
“You look like you’re dressed for a funeral. Or maybe chaperone a high school dance. I can’t decide.”
He smoothed his hands over the shirt. I’d touched a nerve. Interesting.
“I think I look good in blue. Better than you look as a blonde,” he said.
Nice try. I’m not so shallow I need you to approve of my hair color, asshole. I gestured to the screen. “Who’s he?”
“Daniel Monahan, CEO of Monahan Investments.”
I waited for him to offer more, but he was unusually tight-lipped. He hadn’t closed the screen yet, so I took another look. Monahan had the look of your typical thirty-something rich asshole. Thick, dramatic hair, charcoal suit, broad shoulders, confident smirk, and an aura that radiated money. The kind of asshole who’d try to fuck every woman he met with his eyes first and then flash around his checkbook to get them to crawl into bed with him. I’d dealt with enough assholes like him to know how to play the empty-headed and lonely woman on his arm. Just the kind of man Father would’ve thrown me at to break.
“And why do we care about some CEO?” I asked.
Josiah finally realized I was staring and closed the screen. “You don’t. He’s not your problem, but he is someone I need to settle with. He might be able to help get God’s Hand off our backs so we can go our separate ways once I get your papers in a few hours.”
So, he was trying to get rid of me. Good, the sooner we were apart, the better off we’d both be. “I take it you’re going to see him? You made an appointment?”
He chuckled. “An appointment? Oh, I wouldn’t worry. He’ll see me.”
“He’ll see us.” I concentrated and touched the hem of my shirt. Magic flowed out of me, shifting the threads, thinning the material, and drawing it tighter across my chest. The neckline plunged just far enough to show a little cleavage. With another touch and more magic, I changed the boring sweats into a light gray pencil skirt and black stockings. Once I molded my flip flops into a pair of stiletto heels, I was every male office worker’s fantasy. I just needed a pair of dark glasses and it’d be perfect.
Josiah stared. “Well, I was going to say no, but it’s hard to argue with that.”
That’s right, Josiah. I’m not letting you slip away to waste an afternoon on nothing again. This time, I’m going to keep an eye on you. I smirked and went back to the bathroom to fix my hair.
Chapter Six
JOSIAH
Monahan Investments was a Wall Street firm situated on the fiftieth floor of the Monahan Building, which sat directly across from the Trump Building, not to be confused with the Trump Tower over on Fifth Avenue. The Trump Building was an impressive seventy-five stories of brick and mortar. Monahan’s was seventy-six stories tall. It boasted bigger windows, a grander entrance, and more flags all without the ostentatious gold leaf present in the building across the street.
Danny-boy was doing all right for himself, it seemed. I stood on the cobbled pedestrian street, looking up at the imposing structure, letting myself get dizzy. My stomach sank into my toes and my breath caught. Standing in the shadow of that monstrous thing brought back ancient memories of another high-rise on the other side of the country. What was it about those bloody tall buildings that made my chest hurt?
Khaleda stopped next to me but didn’t look up. A look crossed her face, somewhere between irritation and outright revulsion as she looked at the building. “What is it about men and oversized phallic-looking buildings?”
Guess size didn’t impress her. She didn’t understand how it was. It wasn’t about whose was bigger. It was just about being bigger. There was always somebody to beat comparatively speaking, and no one would’ve understood that better than a man’s man like Danny. His motto always had been bigger is better.
God, I wished I’d thought to smoke one before coming here.
“’Spose they look like dicks because that’s what’s inside,” I said with a shrug.
Khaleda did that thing, the laugh without a laugh all women did when they weren’t impressed. “In my experience, the more a man finds the need to project the size of his cock, the smaller it is.”
“It’s not all about size, though, is it?”
“Feeling a bit self-conscious, are we?” She flipped some of her new platinum locks behind her shoulder and smirked at me.
I returned her grin with one of my own. “Meet me in the janitor’s closet, and you can see for yourself.”
“I’ll be sure to bring a magnifying glass.”
We strolled into the lobby, which was about what you’d expect. Marble floors, lots of spotless reflective services, red carpet leading to an information desk only to turn and guide unsuspecting people to the open mouths of elevators waiting to gobble them up. We’d arrived in the early afternoon, just after when most bigwigs would’ve returned from their lunch appointments and prior to when they’d begin winding down their day.
The pretty brunette behind the information desk flashed us a welcome smile. “Can I help you?”
Time to turn on the Aussie charm. Americans loved it. “G’day, love. ’ow’re you this arvo? That’s a lovely jumper there.”
Khaleda shot me the glimmer of an irritated glance as I leaned into the podium with a big, stupid grin.
The girl’s retail-friendly smile shifted to one of surprise and delight. She touched the gray sweater she wore. “Oh, this? We call it a sweater here.”
“Really? I s’pose you need one here, what with the snow ‘n’ cold comin’ in. Must be awful on days like today, yeah? And workin’ on a holiday weekend, too. They pay you extra for that, yeah?”
She started to say something, then stopped to think a moment. “Between you and me, I’m an intern. They don’t pay me at all.”
“A shame, that is.” I leaned in. “’Scuse my French, but why is it these arseholes at the top can sit around and play golf in their dunders, making more per second than most of us sorry souls will in a year? It’s not fair, really.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, I don’t know. I just answer the phones and give directions.”
“And you should be paid fer it.” I pointed at her. “Don’t let ’em push you around. You’re worth more than this. A pretty girl like you could go anywhere in this town.”
Her smile returned, and she touched her hair. “You think so?”
“I know so. What’s your name, lovely?”
“Gina.” Her eyes flicked to Khaleda, her expression suddenly unsure. Was I flirting with her or just being nice?
“Well, Gina, I’m off to meet with Mr. Monahan upstairs. I’ll be sure to give him a piece of my mind about not paying the interns in this building when I see him. Promise.” I drew an X over my chest.
She glanced at the computer screen in front of her, considering asking me whether I had an appointment. If I’d buttered her up correctly, she’d forget about it. Gina looked back at me, and I gave her my best lopsided trust-me-unconditionally grin. “He’s on the fiftieth floor. Take the elevators on the right.”
“Thanks, Gina.” I winked at her and turned away.
I followed the red carpet to a narrow hallway with spotless stainless-steel elevators on either side. After thumbing the up button, I stepped back to wait with Khaleda.
“That was sneaky of you,” she said, glancing at me. “You know she’s just going to phone upstairs ahead of us, right?”
Security was likely to meet us as soon as we stepped off the elevators. I’d hoped to meet some of Danny’s staff, so I could evaluate the security of the building, just in case, but getting thrown out wasn’t going to work for me.
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped into the yawning mouth. I pressed t
he button for the fiftieth floor. “That’s where you’ll come in, Khaleda. We can’t leave without seeing him.”
“How much of a scene do you want me to make?”
I cringed. A scene? Depending on what she meant… “Don’t get the coppers called on us.”
“I think I can manage that.” She tugged her shirt down and tucked it into the skirt which she hiked up just enough to be suggestive without being indecent.
For a flash of a second, the skirt snagged on the lacy tops of her stockings which only came to mid-thigh before they met a garter where she’d tucked one of her obsidian daggers. How fast could she get to that? She’d moved fast against the God’s Hand freaks; fast enough they hadn’t even had time to react. Faster than I could’ve. Bastards had surprised me while I was asleep.
She caught me staring at the tiny snag in the fabric and narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t even think it.”
“Unless you’ve got some power I don’t know about, I’m still free to think and imagine. And I’ve got a very active imagination.”
“It’s never going to happen, Josiah.” She tugged the skirt down and crossed her arms. “You’re not my type.”
I sighed and leaned against the elevator railing as we sailed upward in a metal box suspended by a metal string. “As far as I can tell, you don’t have a type. Men, women, pious and hippies alike. Clear it up for me, Khaleda. What is it you’re looking for in a partner?”
Her face lightened, and her lips turned up in the type of smile most people only show when no one is looking. “Someone boring. Somewhere quiet. Away from magic.”
“Bull. You’d kill yourself with some average Joe. He’d be too easy for you.”
She bristled. “It doesn’t matter. What I want is irrelevant. What I am is what matters.”
“And what’s that?”
“A monster.”
I was about to correct her when the elevator slid to a stop. She spent a quick moment composing herself before the doors slid open. As predicted, two buff fellas in uniform were waiting for us.
