Heart of the Demon (5 page)

With a sigh she reached for the newspaper Caladh had left behind. The first article that caught her eye was a doozy:
LEGISLATIVE COMMITTEE APPROVES  MICROCHIP BILL
.

“For the love of…” She read on. “HB 3762, the preternatural tracking bill sponsored by Senator Glenn Martin, has been approved
by legislative committee. If passed by both the House and Senate, this bill would include provisions for the forced insertion
of microchips into every preternatural in the state of Arizona. The bill further assures that humans will not be part of the
mandate.”

Her lips tightened.
Yeah, right. Just give them time
. Soon enough they’d set their sights on their own kind and make it seem like it was for the greater good. If the state government
allowed forced microchipping of prets, that slope was slippery, indeed.

She grabbed Caladh’s ten and the bill from the table and walked to the front. The waitress rang her up. Keira handed her a
twenty with a “Keep the change.” The poor woman had probably been on her feet all day; she deserved something for her efforts.

“Thanks, hon.”

Keira pushed open the door, smiling again at the jingling bell, and walked to her car. She pressed the remote to unlock the
doors and, as she got behind the wheel, her cell phone rang. She dug in her purse and pulled it out. She pressed the phone
icon and brought the cell to her ear. “Hello?”

“It’s Javier.” The vampire’s voice was as silky as ever. Keira’s empathy didn’t work over a phone line, but he didn’t sound
upset, so she could only assume he didn’t know she’d used glamour on him. “You’ll be invited to the next meeting, which is
in a week. One hour before the meeting you’ll get a text message with the location. It’ll also have a special code that ensures
your entrance.”

“Great. That’s wonderful.” She threw as much gratitude into her voice as she could without overdoing it. “I appreciate it,
Javier.”

“Just make sure you show up,
bonita
. It won’t end well for you if you don’t.”

From the dark tone in his voice, she knew he wasn’t joking. She had no doubt that anyone who expressed an interest in this
rogue group and then didn’t follow through on their membership wound up dead. “Oh, no worries, I’ll be there.” She started
to say more but didn’t get a response from him. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she saw that the call had ended. “What
is it with people not saying good-bye?” she muttered and dropped the phone back into her purse.

She started up her car and fastened the seatbelt. On the drive home, she went back over her conversation with Caladh. She
understood his paranoia about getting other people involved. It would only take one person who was sympathetic to the rogues’
cause to muck up the works. And muck her up as well.

Her thoughts drifted to Finn. Was he part of the group? And what if he was? How would she handle that? She couldn’t tell him
why she was in the group—they’d have to carry on with their relationship, such as it was, with her pretending she was genuine
to the cause.

If he were part of the group, on one hand she wouldn’t be surprised. He was such a nonconformist. On the other hand, it would
shock her to find him with the rogues because he really didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about anyone but himself. She didn’t
think he’d care about what happened with the rift or with other preternaturals. Not unless it would directly affect him.

She pressed her lips together. That was the biggest reason she shouldn’t get involved with him. He was too much like the person
she used to be and she was doing her best to make amends for past wrongs. He didn’t give a flying feck about whatever sins
he’d committed or those he was about to commit.

He defined what being a demon was all about. Be damned, be unrepentant, and be on your own.

Finn pulled his motorcycle into the garage and killed the engine. Getting off the bike, he pressed the garage door switch
and waited until the door was fully down before he went inside the house. Without turning on any lights, he headed straight
back to his bedroom. As inviting as his king-size bed was, he needed to get himself cleaned up before he could collapse between
the sheets. It was after three a.m. and he was exhausted. He’d never had such a hard time getting women to cooperate. He’d
spent a small fortune buying drinks and had gotten nowhere.

He shed his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bedroom floor, and padded naked into the bathroom. He turned on the shower
and jumped in. The lighted overhead water jet and four side shower heads wet him down in seconds. Goose bumps popped out on
his skin until the water warmed up. A few minutes later he haphazardly toweled off and then crawled into bed naked. His body
immediately relaxed against the memory foam mattress, but his restless mind wouldn’t let him sleep.

His questioning at the club tonight had been subtle. He’d bought drink after drink, showered women with flattery and cajoled
them with charm, but none he’d encountered was involved with the rogue pret group. He was sure of it. He could tell when people
lied—there was a twitch of a muscle here, a slight flicker of an eye there—and none of the lovely ladies had so much as fluttered
an eyelash except when they were flirting with him.

There was only one person who came to mind that could hide when she was lying. Keira. He knew her background, that she’d been
a con artist with her husband in the other dimension. Her husband had died before he could be sent through the rift, so Keira
had been sent alone. In the past she’d relied on her grifting skills from time to time, but for the last several hundred years
she’d pretty much walked the straight and narrow as far as he knew.

He admired her for that. She had been strong enough, determined enough, to change who she was. He hadn’t, and she deserved
better than him. He should keep his distance.

Now if only his body, and his heart, would pay attention, he’d be all right while he lived out his life alone.

The next evening, Finn rolled his bike to a stop in a parking spot near the front door of the Pixie Dust Lounge. He cut the
engine and sat for a moment. The parking lot was well lit. The large sign on top of the building was neon, the pink outline
of a woman with back arched and breasts outthrust was the main component. A glitter of cascading sparkles created the illusion
of fairy dust streaming down from one of the figure’s outstretched hands.

He wasn’t a stranger to these kinds of joints; he actually spent quite a bit of time in one or another. In reality he ended
up in places like this not because he wanted to be there but because he’d tracked down a demon that needed to be reminded
of the rules.

There weren’t many guidelines for demon behavior, but Lucifer demanded absolute adherence to the few that were in place. When
a demon broke one, Finn tracked him down. Usually at a strip club, because most demons—like any other male—had a thing for
naked girls.

Tonight, though, he was here on his own. To talk, not watch pole dancers, though he was just as red-blooded as the next guy.
He foresaw lots more talking in his future even though he was used to banging heads together to get what he wanted. He
preferred
banging heads together to get what he wanted. This whole business of trying to persuade people through verbal communication
was making him psycho. He realized head bangings wouldn’t get him the desired results, so he was adapting.

See? Anyone who said he couldn’t learn and grow was just shooting shit.

He heaved a sigh and got off the bike. Pocketing the key, he swiped his palms down his jean-clad thighs and headed toward
the front door. As he reached out for the knob, the door swung open. Finn jumped back to avoid getting hit, and scowled when
a Surtur demon named Phoebus walked out of the building.

Surturs were called fire giants by humans, but among their own kind they referred to themselves by the name of the planet
they came from. They could put their hands on someone and, if they wanted to, literally kill them with a touch by heating
up the victim’s body temperature. They could cause anything from a raging fever to spontaneous combustion. Even with the advances
of modern medicine, Finn had never known of anyone who’d been touched by a Surtur and survived.

As Phoebus stood before him, arms crossed over his chest, Finn made sure to keep some distance between them. He didn’t think
the other demon would start anything, but he couldn’t be sure. While he wouldn’t call Phoebus his nemesis, they sure as hell
weren’t friends, each holding an active dislike for the other. He curbed his natural inclination to reach out and pop the
guy on his big schnoz. Instead, he tipped his chin in greeting. “Phoebus,” he muttered and started to walk around the other
man.

“That’s it? No trading of insults? No veiled threats?”

Finn turned to look at Phoebus. The Surtur’s irises were almost completely yellow, which they hadn’t been until he’d gotten
a look at Finn. Now his emotions were riled and it showed in his eyes. Finn figured his own eyes were probably showing a spark
of his demon as well, but he didn’t have the time or the inclination to tap dance with the bastard. “Nope,” he said and turned
back toward the club.

A hand fell onto his shoulder.

Finn stiffened. So far Phoebus was only touching him, but at any minute he could decide to let loose with a kind of heat not
even Finn could take.

“Just one damn minute,” Phoebus said. “Since when do you let an opportunity go by to remind me of my place in the grand scheme
of Lucifer’s domain?” His voice rasped with suspicion and animosity.

“You sound disappointed.” Finn glanced at the hand on his shoulder and then raised his gaze to Phoebus’s face. He lifted a
brow and waited.

With a great show of compliance, Phoebus lifted his hand and shoved it into his front pocket. “Well?” he prompted.

“I’m letting you slide because I have better things to do with my time.” Finn headed toward the club again.

“So the rumors are true, then?”

Finn heaved a sigh and stopped. “What rumors?” he asked in a tired voice without turning.

“From what I understand, you’ve been telling anyone who’ll listen that you’re fed up with how restricted we are by Lucifer.
By the council.” He paused and then, his voice thick with barely contained glee, said, “I also hear you and Lucifer are on
the outs. That true?”

 “Even if it was,” he grated, turning to shoot a glower the other demon’s way, “you’d be the last person I’d confirm it to.”
The thought that Phoebus could be a viable connection to the rogue group flashed through Finn’s mind, and he dismissed it.
There was no way in hell he could pretend to be chummy with Phoebus and have anyone believe it. Especially Phoebus. No, he’d
just have to carry on as usual with the Surtur, which generally meant being snarly and trading insults. That was fine by him.

A smile tilted one corner of Phoebus’s mouth and a sly look entered his eyes. “Would you at least tell me if you’re his son?”

“No.” Finn folded his arms over his chest.

“No, you’re not his son? Or no, you won’t tell me?” Phoebus’s expression darkened with guile. “Come on, give me a little somethin’
here.”

“I wouldn’t give you my last mouthful of spit if you were on fire.” Finn dropped his arms to his sides and turned back toward
the club. As he pulled open the door, he threw over his shoulder, “Think what you want to.”

He went into the building without waiting to hear what Phoebus’s comeback might be.

He headed straight to one of the tables near the pole area and settled into a seat. Two women halfheartedly danced around
poles at opposite ends of the raised platform. He didn’t blame them for their lack of zeal; other than him, there were only
three other guys in the place.

Little white bulbs lined the edge of the stage, only half of them working. Overhead colored lights blinked, spotlighting the
dancers in blue, then red, then yellow. It didn’t help. He guessed the lights were an effort to make them more appealing,
but to Finn it only made them look tired. Besides, he wasn’t there to watch the gyrations of exotic dancers.

Within seconds a pink-haired, eyebrow- and nose-ring-sporting pixie came over to him. She wore skintight black pants and a
red halter top that barely covered her breasts. Finn had been here before; he knew her outfit was the standard uniform for
the waitstaff. Aroused customers tended to drink more, though it took skill to keep them sober enough so they stayed aroused
and kept spending money.

And Sinead, the pixie standing in front of him, possessed mad skills. She also had ties to the rogue group, or so he’d been
told, so she was on the top of his list of people to talk to. She flicked pink-streaked blond bangs out of her eyes and gave
him a lusty stare. “What’s your pleasure, Finn?” she asked in a sultry, husky voice.

He had to keep up his bad-boy rep, so he slung an arm around her waist and pulled her near, not close enough to scare her,
but enough to be friendly. “I’ll take a beer, sweetheart. And some company, if you’ve got the time.”

“I have the time.” She glanced around the nearly empty club with a grimace. “And I’m due a break, anyway. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her saunter away, her hips swaying with a promise he wouldn’t take her up on. Though it would be a different story
if she had long, red hair…he pushed that thought away. He was here to get Sinead to open up to him about the rogue group,
not finagle a free lap dance. For him to succeed, she had to think he would follow through on the temptation she presented
with lots of cash. Actually, either way he’d probably have to give her money, but if it got him closer to his goal, he’d consider
any outlay of cash a wise investment in his future.

He watched the pole dancers with as much enthusiasm as that which they performed. The music coming over the sound system sounded
like something from a low-budget seventies porn film. The women’s apathetic performance was as painful to hear as it was to
watch.

After a few minutes Sinead was back, a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She gave him the beer
and sat down in the chair next to him. After taking a sip of wine, she placed the glass on the table and crossed one slender
leg over the other. She idly swung her leg, the tip of her red stiletto coming close to his calf with each upswing. “So, you’re
not here on business, I take it?” she asked. She gestured toward the three other patrons. “You barely even looked at them.
I’m guessing you’re not on somebody’s trail.”

“I’m taking a break from work,” he murmured. He watched her slim fingers slide up and down the stem of the wineglass. Knowing
he needed to feign interest in what other long thing she could move her fingers over, he let a hint of lust show in his expression.
He rolled his shoulders and met her eyes. “Today’s all about fun.”

“Good for you. You know what they say about all work and no play.” She smiled and kept toying with the glass.

“Mmm. And I think you know I’m not a dull boy.”

She snickered. “Not by a long shot.”

He stretched an arm along the back of her chair. “What keeps you here, Sinead?” He met her bright blue gaze. “You could do
so much better.”

“Are you asking ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’” She lifted delicately arched brows. From the look
on her face he guessed she was mildly amused at his tactics.

“I guess so.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. He wasn’t here to piss her off. He was here to butter her up and get information.
It always helped when he could tell the truth when he flattered someone. He said, “You’re smart enough to do more. You have
a degree. Why are you still here?”

Surprise lightened her eyes. “Well, thank you. Most guys don’t look past my assets.” Sitting up straighter, she preened a
little, showing off those assets while pink pleasure spread over her cheeks. She looked around the club and a tinge of sadness
stole some of the pleasure away. “Arnie’s worked so hard on this place, and I’ve been with him from the start. This job is
the reason I was able to put myself through school and earn my B.A. It wouldn’t be right for me to abandon him now.”

Knowing the owner as he did, Finn was surprised the joint had stayed open as long as it had. The Oneiroi clan of demons was
better known for causing night terrors, not for being astute businessmen. And in his heyday, Arnie Mitress had been one of
the best nightmare-invoking guys around. “I admire your loyalty,” he said. And he did. “But you might not have a choice if
it comes down to either being loyal or eating.”

“Sure I do. Arnie looks out for me.” Sinead shifted her position so that her shoulder bumped against Finn’s hand.

When she didn’t move, he knew he’d been given the go-ahead. He slid his fingers over her soft skin and cupped her shoulder,
feeling the frailty of her bones beneath his palm. “He’s doing a helluva job,” he muttered, a frown pulling between his brows.
He genuinely liked Sinead, even if he was using her to get information. “When
is
the last time you ate?”

A smile curved her lips and brightened her eyes. “You’re sweet. I’m fine, Finn. Really.” She bent her arm and laced her fingers
with his. “What made you decide to take a break today? Is it your boss?” Her features scrunched in commiseration. “I heard
you two had a falling out.”

“You did, eh?” He stroked his thumb along hers. When had his business become everyone else’s?

She nodded. “Phoebus was just in here and—” Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small
O
. “You probably ran into him on your way in.”

The animosity between him and Phoebus wasn’t a secret. “We saw each other, yeah.” At her look of concern, he added, “He walked
away uninjured, don’t worry.”

Sinead grimaced. “I wasn’t worried about Phoebus,” she said. As Finn started to feel good about her concern for him, she stated,
“He can take care of himself.”

He raised his brows. “You thought
he
might have hurt
me
, is that it?”

“Don’t get your shorts in a twist,” she muttered. She flicked her finger at the back of his hand before twining their fingers
together again. “I know you can take care of yourself, too. It’s just that Phoebus fights dirty.” She shook her head. “You
men and your egos. Really, it’s ridiculous the things you get upset over.”

“You think?” He let his voice come out in a low growl and wiggled his brows.

She giggled. “I do. And sometimes it’s cute.” She leaned closer, nestling in the crook of his arm. “So, your break?” she asked,
redirecting the conversation back to her earlier question. “Why aren’t you working today? And does Lucifer know?”

Finn gave a little growl. “I guess he knows. Seems like everyone else does.” He smiled at her giggle. “I’ve been doing this
for a long, long time. A break is overdue.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and blew out a sigh. “I get so fed up with it
all, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Policing behavior we shouldn’t have to police. Being a minority within a minority. Kowtowing to humans, making sure we don’t
do things to spook them.” Finn looked at her. “It’s especially galling for me.”

“Why you?”

“Because I’m a demon. We don’t answer to anyone. Well, other than Lucifer.” He scrubbed his hand across his jaw. Answering
to his father was bad enough. He couldn’t imagine also being brought to heel by the council. “But we
don’t
answer to the Council of Preternaturals, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Do you think Lucifer would ever allow it? I mean, there have been councils for millennia, and demons have never been represented.
They’ve never
wanted
to be represented. Why would that change now?” Sinead took a sip of wine, staring at Finn over the rim of the glass.

He glanced around the club. Both of the pole dancers had left the stage and no one had taken their places yet, though the
cheesy porn music still played over the speakers. The other three patrons remained where they’d been when Finn had come in,
so they weren’t close enough to overhear what he was about to say. However, just in case one of the others in the club was
a shapeshifter with preternatural hearing, he lowered his voice and said, “Because I’ve heard this next rift might be different.”