Demonized (11 page)

* * * *

It didn’t. I may as well have thrown in some insults about his mother too. He sat across from me and Anna in the Coburg, nursing a bottle of beer and looking like he might smash it over my head any second.

“Rhian did not cheat on me.” He said it with utter authority, like it was an immutable fact that the entire foundation of his life rested on. I guess it could have been. “She would never have cheated on me.”

“Mr. Baxter, I spoke to her…” I hesitated, searching my limited vocabulary for the right word.
Lover? Beau? Paramour
? “I spoke to Rhian’s boss at Hush,” I said finally. “He was very clear on the matter.”

“How the hell would he know?” Baxter snapped.

If he wasn’t going to pick up the obvious, I wasn’t going to clue him in. The last thing I wanted was Baxter storming down to Hush to slug it out with Moss. Although I guess it might be kind of funny. “Look, you asked me to find out how she ended up at Hush, I’m telling you what I found out. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to pay me for it.” I drained the last of my beer. “I don’t know if we agreed on a fee, but—”

“Ethan!” Anna shot me a warning glare.

I wasn’t being nice enough. I frowned back at her and leaned back in my seat, folding my arms.
Fine. She can play with the banker
.

She leaned forwards, and her face softened into what I thought of as her sympathetic cop face, still business-like, but with compassion in her eyes and a sad smile on her lips. “Mr. Baxter, we understand how upsetting this must be, with everything else you’ve learned recently, but Rhian did have an affair.”

Baxter stared down at his beer and swallowed hard. I watched disbelief, grief, and rage flicker across his face, watched his hands clench into fists. The Voice inhaled all that pain, lapping it up, waiting for more.

“Did he kill her?” Baxter asked me finally. “This…home-wrecker, did he kill her?”

“No.”

“You sound pretty sure. Have you arrested him? Asked him anything? Asked him what he did to take a sweet girl like Rhian and turn her into—” He cut himself off, turning his ahead away.

This was getting us nowhere. I just wanted my money and any information he could give me on Tamsin Searle. I wasn’t sure what Anna wanted out of this—if she wasn’t prepared to arrest Baxter for questioning, there wasn’t a whole lot more she could do here.

I thought she was probably thinking the same thing, because her

sympathetic cop face slipped. “There is no evidence to connect Rhian’s…lover to her murder, Mr. Baxter.”

“Then why aren’t you out on the streets looking for the bastard who did kill her?” He slammed his hands down on the table, and glared at me. “I want proof she had an affair. I’m not paying you a penny until you prove to me she cheated.”

I frowned at him, wondering if I wanted his money that badly. Nothing good would ever come of bringing Baxter and Moss together. The incubus would break him, plain and simple. “Listen man, I get how horrible this is for you. I really do.” I aimed a pointed look at Anna. I wasn’t heartless. “You’re not going to gain anything this way. Wouldn’t you rather remember Rhian as you knew her? Why chase down ugly facts that won’t help you?”

“
Don’t discourage him,”
the Voice scolded me. “
His pain is so sweet. Keep him hanging on.”

I shifted uneasily in my seat. I hated myself for it, but the Voice’s happiness over Baxter’s misery made me…calmer. For the first time since the exorcism, I felt okay. Not happy, but okay. Like I wasn’t about to hit Baxter with my bottle, and then cut my throat with the glass shards.

Baxter stared at me with hatred in his eyes, and the Voice sucked that up too. “Have you ever been in love, Mr. Banning?” he asked me.

His patronizing tone hurt my teeth. “I had a hamster once that I was pretty close to.”

He ignored me. Probably for the best. He shot Anna a scornful look, finished his beer, and stormed away without a word. I guess I wasn’t getting paid tonight after all.
How the hell am I supposed to pay for my protein shakes now
?

“That was a waste of time,” Anna sighed.

“I don’t know why you even came,” I grumbled at her. “What did you get out of that, exactly?”

She sat back, shaking her head. “I don’t know, to be honest.” She ran her fingers around the rim of her glass, and I watched the motion, fascinated. She had long fingers, slender and ring-free. “Since last night at Hush, I feel like I’ve lost my way with this case, Ethan. I don’t know where to go next. I feel...foggy.”

Moss’s influence
? I wondered.

“
She’s susceptible to demonic influence,”
the Voice told me. “
Not everyone is. Worth knowing.”

Yeah, definitely worth knowing. “Don’t get down, Anna,” I told her. “You probably just need a decent night’s sleep and a spa day.”

She offered me a wan smile. “Chance would be a fine thing.” She finished her lemonade and stood. “Let’s go. This was a waste of time.”

I followed her out, hating how despondent she sounded. Anna was supposed to be all-action, all-authority. This downcast Anna was all wrong. To me, anyway—the Voice loved how miserable she felt.

“
She’s pining for the incubus! How terribly sweet.”

I really hoped that wasn’t true. If Anna ended up like Rhian...I shoved that thought away. She wouldn’t. She hadn’t slept with Moss, after all, hadn’t even kissed him, as far as I knew. She’d be fine. She had to be.

* * * *

Back home, I crashed on the sofa with Mutt and fired up my laptop. I felt kind of dumb googling “local witches”, but no more than I had throwing myself into Crane’s baptismal pool. I found a lot of flashy websites for palmists and tarot readers, people who could put me in touch with my departed loved ones, people who could sell me love potions, good luck charms, and people who could help me stop smoking. I found a lot of fishy psychics and wannabe Wiccans out there, and they all had websites promising me whatever my heart desired for a low, low price.

I didn’t really believe any of them, any more than I believed buying a funky vegetable slicer would make me eat mountains and mountains of coleslaw. I was no expert in the occult, but I had a feeling genuine witches didn’t bother putting sparkly purple unicorns on their websites.

I was about to give up for the night when I stumbled across a site I did like, plain and simple, just the facts, and not a unicorn in sight.

It was a single page, all done in professional blue and gray tones. “Salome Giovanni, tarot readings, palm readings, and arcane knowledge,” the site headline proclaimed. There was no photo of Miss Giovanni, whose real name was probably Martha or Ethel, or whatever, but there was a phone number and an email address. I figured she’d probably be out collecting owls’ beaks under the full moon right now, so I fired off an email asking to make an appointment as soon as possible.

“It’s never going to work,” I told Mutt, who regarded me with wide-eyed interest. “She’ll probably give me a shot of newt sperm and send me on my way.”

“
Nothing you do will work,”
the Voice reminded me gleefully. “
Nothing but death will rid you of me.”

Yeah, I was getting that. Feeling as gloomy as Anna had looked in the Coburg, I went to bed. I hadn’t actually slept in my bed all week, and I hesitated before climbing in tonight, thinking of my nightmare about Anna again. I went to the top of the stairs and whistled for Mutt, who obligingly bounded up to share the bed with me.

“You realize you’re the first person I’ve ever shared this bed with,” I told him as we bunked down on top of the duvet. It was too hot and sticky to even think about getting under the covers. “Technically you’re not even a person. How sad is that?”

Mutt licked my nose, the closest I had come to a kiss in the past year or so too. I’d take it. Dogs were uncomplicated, if nothing else.

* * * *

I guess Baxter’s anger and Anna’s misery had filled the Voice, because I didn’t dream that night. In fact, I woke up feeling pretty okay about life. Which made me feel pretty paranoid, because it meant something was probably going to go horribly wrong.

Shrugging it off, I shuffled downstairs to see what food I had in the house besides dog food. I managed to rustle up a piece of toast and some coffee, while Mutt chowed down on his breakfast, which looked much more appetizing. I reflected that I really had to chase Baxter for payment or I’d starve to death. I had no job lined up after this one and no clients beating down my door. I probably should have gone to college and got myself a back-up career. Mom always wanted me to be a plumber. Plumbers never went hungry, apparently.

I checked my emails while I ate, and discovered that Salome Giovanni had a gap in her schedule this afternoon.
Great, so did I. An afternoon-long gap, in fact
. I fired back an email to confirm the appointment, wondering if I was doomed to another Overture Church performance.

I was surprised to see an email inquiring about a job. I scanned the details quickly–suspected cheating spouse, unexplained late nights, and suspicious receipts, that kind of thing. The woman sounded upset and uncertain, from what I could pick up through the email, which tugged at my heartstrings a little. I called her and arranged an initial consultation for Monday. That gave me some time to chase Baxter for my fee and hopefully tie off any loose ends from his case.

I mean, I’m pretty much done, aren’t I
? Okay, so Baxter didn’t like the facts I’d found for him, but he couldn’t deny I’d done the job he’d hired me for. Whilst the police hadn’t found Rhian’s killer yet, that was their affair, not mine. Anna hadn’t officially brought me into the case; I just tagged along. I could call it closed now, I figured.
Sure I can
.

Except
...

“It doesn’t feel over,” I told Mutt, who’d come to sit on the sofa with me. “You know, I just feel like there’s still work to be done.”

I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t have much interest in confronting a kidney-stealing prostitute killer, so it wasn’t that. I guess it was the Tamsin Searle thing. She was involved somewhere and I hadn’t figured out how yet. It bothered me, and I wasn’t sure what I could do about it.

So I did nothing, just flicked through the TV channels like usual, until it was time to go visit Salome Giovanni.

“
You’re wasting your time,”
the Voice told me as Mutt and I left the house. “
Nothing is going to work except suicide, and you’re too cowardly to take that route.”

I wasn’t so sure. If the Voice pushed me hard enough, if I became a danger to Anna–or anyone else–and I saw no other way out...

“
I’ll push,”
the demon promised me. “
I’ll push until you break.”

I didn’t doubt it.

* * * *

Salome’s place matched her website, nothing showy, nothing flashy or overtly mystical. She had a rented office space in a building at the edge of town, a quiet neighborhood, neatly-kept and lined with saplings. It was nice. Bland, but nice. Not the kind of place I expected to find a practicing witch.

The building wasn’t air-conditioned, and sweat dripped down my back as I hauled my ass up the stairs to Salome’s third floor office. I’d left Mutt in the car, with the air-con running high, and I suspected he was having a much nicer time than me. By the time I reached her office, I felt exhausted.

I took a moment to assess the place before going in. All the offices looked to be small businesses–solicitors, computer repairs, that kind of thing. The doors all had frosted-glass panes with the business name printed on the glass in bold gold lettering. Classy. I wondered if I’d get more business if I had an office.

Probably not. I’d probably have to wear a suit too. I didn’t become a PI so I could struggle to put on a tie every morning.

I rapped on Salome’s door, pushed it open and peered around the office. A huge painting of a naked woman cavorting with a snake over the desk kind of distracted me, or I might have noticed the real woman first.

Tamsin Searle.

I couldn’t mistake her–she looked just like she did in the photo of her and Rhian, all sultry good looks and killer curves. I spent a second just staring at her, trying to get my head around her presence. She stared back with a slight frown on her lips. “Are you Mr. Banning?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said slowly, trying to figure out how to proceed. I mean, it wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong, apart from not being at home. On the other hand, said home was the sight of at least one murder. Anna would definitely want to speak to her. Hell, I’d want to speak to her too, if I hadn’t decided to take Baxter’s money and run.

I decided the best course of action for now was to sit down. The seat was soft red leather, same as the one Salome/Tamsin sat in. She smiled at me like I was some odd-but-cute animal she found in her garden. “May I call you Ethan?”

Her voice was soft and silky, like a sex-phone girl. She’d make Moss a very happy incubus, I suspected.

“Yeah, Ethan is fine.” I shook her hand, noting the long, witchy black nails, the only obviously witchy thing about her. She wore a conservative gray suit with a navy blouse with simple, silver jewelry. She looked...normal.

“
She’s not,”
the Voice warned me. “
Don’t trust her. She’s…unusual.”

Not too helpful, really. “So, you’re Salome,” I said, trying to fill the awkward silence I’d created with my private dicking.

She nodded. “Your email was rather vague, Ethan. Maybe we can start by discussing what you need from me.”

“Yeah.” I tapped my nails on the desk, recalling how Crane reacted when I told him about the Voice, before we wrecked up his church and gave him real proof. “So, Salome, where do you stand on demonic possession?”

A few emotions flickered across her face, first surprise, then interest, and then caution. Then she went blank, beautiful face smooth and empty. “I’ve done some demonology work in the past, but it’s not my specialty. I’ve never met anyone who’s genuinely been possessed,” she replied. “Most people who claim to be possessed are actually mentally ill.”