Stone Goddess (Isabella Hush Series Book 3)

by Thea Atkinson

  "A snake in gilded scales is still a snake."

  I stopped several feet away at the corner of the counter, what I thought was a safe distance given I had no idea what kind of powers an incubus might have besides being irresistible. I promised myself a good bit of time on my laptop and Google after all this was over.

  His smile slid over his face like a bead of oil.

  "You could be missing the time of a lifetime. Or several lifetimes," he sighed.

  "I regret I've got but one life to give for my sanity," I said and ran a finger along the glass counter.

  I'd never paid much attention to what was beneath the glass before, but I could swear it wasn't icing frosted donut holes and confectionery like it was now.

  I canted my head at him.

  "What's with all the sweets?"

  "Do you really want to know?"

  I found it harder and harder to pull my gaze from his. I shook my head, more to dislodge my eyes from his than to argue.

  "No," I said. "So long as it's not to lure children to their demise, it's all good."

  "Oh, it's very good."

  He finally pushed off from the counter, obviously thinking he wasn't going to get far with his charm if he hadn't pulled me in by now. I silently wondered just how much of his power he'd re-acquired or even if there was more to an incubus's power than mere charm.

  I watched him move behind his display case and splay his arms out sideways, his fingers tented over the glass.

  "So," he said. "What are you in for tonight, Ms. Hush if not a taste of the Divine?"

  I squinted at him, wary and startled. I'd not told him my name. Not ever.

  "How is it you know my name?" I said.

  He canted his head to the side. "Your friend Colin told me. It's time we dealt on honest terms, is it not?"

  "You mean Chu-chulain," I said and watched as he smiled broadly, interested that I'd figured it out. "Did you know that bastard would want repayment for a favor you collected on?"

  He shrugged. "The fae of every breed and world likes to be repaid. It's common knowledge." He paused for effect. "At least for Kindred."

  "Yes, well, I'm not one to pay more than the value of an item," I said and he chuckled softly to himself, lifting the hairs on my arms.

  "Bastard," I said. "You knew he'd want to keep me in his eternal debt."

  "The fae and their ilk love being owed," he said. "At least now you know that and you aren't too worse for the wear, now are you?"

  I pressed my lips together. It was useless arguing and it was getting far too late. Maddox had told me once that most pawns and dealers in major cities worked for or were supernatural factions. Dealing with Errol, at least I knew what I was working with.

  "I need something that looks old and weapony," I said. "Do you have something like that?"

  He ran his palm along the counter thoughtfully, scrubbing with his thumb at a smudge. "Old and weapony. Interesting."

  "And it needs to look very much like a rock and fit in a velvet pouch about so big." I spread my fingers apart to indicate the size. "And I need the pouch."

  As I described what the stone looked like in as much detail as I could remember, he leaned forward onto his forearms on the counter.

  "And you came to my little shop for those things," he murmured as his black eyes rested on my mouth. "I'm flattered."

  "Don't be," I said. "You were closest."

  I was careful to make it sound as though I'd walk out at any moment and find a more useful place. I was fully aware his shop was more of a front for his Shadow Bazaar interests than to find prodigal supernatural artifacts, but every salesman is a salesman.

  What I didn't know was whether he would call my bluff. Because demons were demons.

  His fingers walked toward me for several inches before tapping down on the glass.

  "I might have something that fits the bill."

  I tried not to lean forward and follow the track of those fingers, tried not to show interest.

  "Those donuts will only assault my digestion," I said. "Come up with something better."

  He chuckled and it sounded like warm oil. "Oh hush," he said, inflecting a tone of double entendre as he invoked my surname. "Look closer."

  I craned forward to peer into the display case. What I'd thought were all donuts were a mish mash of items. A grenade shaped like a penis lay snuggled against a land mine formed into a vagina.

  "What the hell?" I said, feeling my face color.

  He laughed harder.

  "You see something you want," he said.

  I snapped my gaze to his. "Disgusting little bastard," I said. "Are they donuts or explosives?"

  "You tell me."

  I looked again and the explosives were nothing but banal looking stones. Grey and speckled, they could have been ostrich eggs or beach stones.

  "Stop it," I said because I knew somehow he was manipulating reality. "Show me something real."

  He sighed with great disappointment. "You've ceased to be fun, Ms. Hush. I liked you better when you were masquerading as a dominatrix."

  "What makes you think I was masquerading?"

  He shrugged. "It was fun for a while to pretend a tiny human woman might flog the living moonlight out of me, but that aura of yours doesn't shift change with a change of clothes or a few wigs."

  I tried not to smile at the thought of all the times I dressed for him, thinking it had somehow greased his inclination to deal. Apparently, it had, just not the way I'd thought.

  I propped my hand on my hip. "Don't try to pretend now that you weren't going to assault me a few weeks ago."

  He laid a shamed hand against his chest. "I would never deny it," he said. "Although I must admit, it would have been very pleasant to reminisce of better days with you."

  "Better days?" I argued. "You nearly raped me."

  His lips pressed together primly. "Hardly raped. I didn't even get my fly undone before the monk came."

  "Intent and opportunity are the same in my book."

  I hadn't forgotten my near miss, but I had to admit, I was warming up to him, and I didn't like it one bit.

  He cocked his head to the side and a lock of black curl dipped into his eye. He raked it back impatiently, as though he weren't used to his hair being as lush as it was.

  "Are you interested in rectifying our missed encounter?" he asked.

  I laid my hand on the glass over one of the beach stones, willing it to turn back into a donut. "Hell, no," I said. "A gal doesn't jump onto the grill once she's sizzled on the frying pan."

  He followed my gaze to the display case. "You must be hungry," he said, "to be speaking in terms of food."

  He reached in and his hand moved over several large stones and then, as though pondering the best choice, wavered over a clutch of smaller ones. When he withdrew his hand, he had a small donut hole pinched in his fingers. Powdered sugar dusted his knuckles.

  He laid it on the counter, obviously thinking I was too skittish to take it directly from him. Then he rolled it, warbling toward me.

  "It's safe," he said. "Part of my rehabilitation."

  "Donuts are your penance? I must be down the rabbit hole."

  He lifted his sugary fingers to the air, waggling them in front of me with a crooked eyebrow. When I shook my head, he stuck them, one at a time, into his mouth and sucked on them. Those black eyes locked on mine greedily.

  "I don't barter children anymore." He sighed. "Too risky." He looked at me pointedly because we both knew I was to blame for that. "But adults, well...they are a different story altogether."

  "You entrap policemen?" I said, stuffing the donut into my mouth and chewing. It was delightful. All cinnamon and sweetness, just a hint of nutmeg and sour cream. I resolved to buy donuts to go along with a carton of milk.

  "Think of it as an entrance fee," he said and the bright light went out in his eyes and his expression fell to one of blank expectation.

  I had time to wish I'd just shot myself in the f
oot and saved myself the trouble before he snagged my elbow and my knees turned to water.

  "Come along," he said and tugged me along with him toward the beaded curtain.

  I had got close enough to the beaded curtain before to see that inside was a chamber filled with sexually deviant supplies. He had told me it also contained a portal to the Shadow Bazaar, which was how he'd transport the children he lured in.

  I barely escaped that last time, and then, only because of Maddox.

  There was no way I was going to let Errol drag me in there now.

  Except none of my muscles seemed to want to obey my brain. In fact, my legs seemed all too eager to let him lead me.

  "Take your hands off me," I said, thinking I was struggling but was gaining ground toward the curtain. "Let me go."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Ms. Hush," he said. "You ate the donut; now you must pay."

  CHAPTER 6

  He looked at me over his shoulder. "Don't be a baby. No one in there is the least bit interested in a mortal woman." He eyed me up and down. "At least not for what you're thinking."

  He caught my eye and something like a film slid over his corneas. It put me in mind of the ticking over a bird's eye. It was gone as quickly as it came, and when he blinked again, there was no sign of it, just an inky blackness to his pupils that seemed far bigger than before.

  It should have creeped me out, but I followed him silently, drawn to the set of his shoulders as he flipped aside the curtain and held it open for me. I swung my gaze left and right, feeling a dread sort of fear that the darkness in the room held untold horrors.

  It was my own fault I was here.

  "Don't be afraid, Ms. Hush," he said next to my ear. His breath moved my hair and smelled of cotton floss and strawberries. I imagined evenings in front of a fire, with a lover hanging over me, trailing berries along my bare skin.

  I turned to him in a daze and he nuzzled my cheek with his chin. I couldn't feel the tiniest hint of stubble. It was as though his skin was smooth granite.

  His hand went to the small of my back. The heat from his palm sang up my spine.

  He guided me ever so gently but firmly further into the room. I was aware of a dozen sets of eyes on me, but couldn't for the life of me identify whether the onlookers were male, female, or even human. Each time I tried to make out what they looked like, a wash of heat wave shuddered over them and I lost focus.

  It hurt, to be honest, and I began to think it best I not try to get a good look at them.

  Besides.

  I imagined I wouldn't want to know.

  With each step deeper into the chamber, the fog of darkness receded and I was better able to see the surroundings. I'd been given a peek of his back room before, and I expected a dank closet sized room, with a blazing portal ringed in fire, impatient to send me to the Shadow Bazaar.

  There was no blazing portal or torture chamber awaiting me beyond the curtain.

  It was like a speak easy in there.

  Crystal glasses hung from wooden racks in the ceiling over what I could loosely term as a bar. Loosely, because the counter wasn't made of wood or granite, but some sort of ivory surface with mottles of brownish color. The railing itself looked to be made of tanned hide of some kind instead of oak slats. Bottles of different colored liquid lined the wall behind it.

  I shuddered involuntarily, even if I couldn't bring myself to back out again through the curtain. Some part of my brain whispered danger, but my body didn't want to obey.

  Beings of all sorts hung around it, and if I strained to make them out, I could see that some of them were humanoid and some seemed in transition from one thing to another. I caught sight of something with bat-like wings with talon tips. One patron, a wolfish looking man caught sight of me and licked his lips.

  A headache stung the back of my brow and I resolved to stop trying to work out what kinds of creatures they were.

  They're human, I told myself. Just regular guys and gals out on the town.

  The headache evaporated.

  "That's it," Errol said. "There's the ticket."

  I stared at him numbly. An image tried to nudge forward of a grimy room and a beat up armoire, replacing the speak easy setting.

  "This was a grimy back room last time I was here," I said.

  "Just a bit of incubus glamor," he retorted. "Last time you tempted me, I only had a trace of my skills and magic. Residual power, if you will."

  "So this is what's real?" I asked and caught his eye. The ticking closed down over his eye without his lids moving.

  He extended his arm to indicate the breadth of the room. "This is closer to real."

  His mouth formed into a smile that was both secretive and victorious. "You came at just the right time. I'm having a meet and greet."

  I didn't know what sort of meet and greet an incubus would put on or why, but everyone in the room seemed to be having a good time. Glasses clinked together and a dull roar of conversation just barely disguised a lower, more thrumming sort of moaning that could have been pain or pleasure.

  I shuffled backward, not sure I wanted to know any more than that.

  "No worries, Ms. Hush," he said. "It's just an evening of drinks with friends."

  He pressed the small of my back gently, guiding me deeper into the room. My feet felt heavier with each step. Though I could see more clearly, each inch into the chamber seemed to rob more and more of my muscle command.

  "Just drinks?" I heard myself say and he nuzzled my ear with his lips.

  "Drinks and snacks."

  Snacks. I expected pretzel bowls or hors d'oeuvre trays and I found myself wondering what sort of snacks might whet the appetites of Errol's clientele.

  In fact, I wondered what sort of clientele he catered to at all.

  The headache bit into my skull again and I sucked in a breath.

  "See anything you like?" he said. "I've had to up my presence after my power decline. It was a long fifty years, but now I'm feeling very much like myself again."

  He tipped an imaginary hat to me and clicked his heels. "All thanks to your creative persuasion. Had you not forced my hand, I might not have had the chance to barter the Coalition for the return of my baser powers."

  As he prattled on about still working on getting all his magics back, I wondered what sort of things Errol might have done to offend a coalition of demons.

  I swung my gaze about the room, searching for evidence of how bad it might be.

  Speak Easy was the best description I could come up with, since it did seem a bit clandestine. The energy in the room was anxious and frenetic. The humanoid creatures kept a keen eye on me and the door at first but when they saw I was with Errol, they went back to whatever had them occupied.

  The closest bar no doubt fulfilled the same function as lingerie did in a sex shop. Teasing the patron forward, easing the more squeamish of buyers into a sense of normalcy before going hard core.

  "The pawn shop is for my human customers," he whispered as though I'd spoken out loud. "But now that I have nearly all my powers back—thanks to you—I decided to celebrate my return with a few prodigal fair weather friends."

  Someone brushed past me, carrying a tray. I reached out almost automatically for it, half expecting my palm to meet a glass. I recoiled when my fingers brushed against soft fur. A set of tiny teeth bit down into my finger and, shocked, I blinked at what I'd assumed was a tray of drinks.

  The server was balancing a board filled with newborn kittens.

  "What the hell?" I said. "Your guests eat cats?"

  He plucked one from the tray and passed it to me. It mewled loudly as he crushed it against my chest. The soft little head burrowed against my neck.

  "Don't be silly," he said. "I wouldn't acquaint with anything that would ingest all that fur. Those breeds are too aggressive to be of use to me."

  He jerked his chin toward a patron who plucked another tiny thing from the tray and brought it belly first to his mouth. "I just invited the ones who
enjoy the soft underbelly."

  I gagged as I watched the creature bite down and suckle and the kitten in my grasp meowed loudly in response to me tightening my grip involuntarily.

  I looked at the thing crushed against my chest and swallowed hard. All these poor innocent kittens. It was disgusting.

  He nudged me with his elbow, no doubt because he saw my reaction.

  "Don't be too put out. Kittens are a delicacy, and even though cats breed like rabbits, they're nowhere near as prolific as rats. Most of the breeds who frequent the ninth world subsist on rodents unless they can find stray felines. Not impossible, mind you," he said, peering at me. "Just less convenient. And I so wanted to put on a good show. I had to find half a dozen pregnant feral cats just to provide five trays."

  He waved his hand in front of his face. "An ordeal, I can tell you. Now come along. I want you to meet someone."

  "You're a monster," I said and let the kitten squeeze closer to my armpit where it no doubt felt heat and warmth and protection beckoning to it.

  He shrugged. "Demon, actually. Now do you want that stone or not?"

  Part of me wanted to tell him and his buddies to go fuck themselves, but I imagined he would enjoy that. Then I remembered the donuts and stones in the display case and wondered if maybe he wasn't testing me somehow, showing me versions of reality to see how far he could trust me.

  I grit my teeth and let him tug me further into the room. The place smelled of musk and sweat and sweet things all at the same time. A waitress plucked the kitten by its scruff when it poked its head out from above my armpit and passed it to a nearby patron.

  Glamor or not, I wasn't going to let that poor thing suffer the fate of its kin. I didn't care what sort of test it was. I thought of my cat at home and how she had faced down a sizable rat the day I'd rescued her.

  Without thinking, I reached out toward the waitress's ponytail. Her hair felt like steel wool in my hands. I prayed it wasn't a wig and yanked.

  Hard.

  She yowled and arched backward into the pain and I kicked her feet out from beneath her. She fell onto her backside, the tray upending and kittens ran everywhere. Mine, the tiniest one with a tuft of orange atop a gray head streaked for the beaded curtain. Several were smart enough to follow before the waitress managed to scramble to her knees and scoop for the runaways.