Personal Demon (32 page)

“This is a Cabal head office. You can’t just run off like that.”

“Run?” Karl turned slowly, eyebrows arched. “I believe I was walking. I also believe you are in as much a hurry to get this over with as we are, but if I’m mistaken, then you go your way, and let me follow the smell of blood.”

“Blood?” I said.

A faint wince—he hadn’t intended to say that in front of me.

“Where?” Griffin demanded.

“I need to follow the trail to find the source. Now, if you’ll allow me to do that…”

He continued down the hall. Griffin swung into his path. He moved so fast I stumbled out of his way, but it was nothing compared to how fast Karl moved. Before I could blink, Karl had the bodyguard pinned against the wall by his shirtfront.

“You want to take a pop at me?” Griffin said. “Go right ahead.”

“I know you don’t plan to hit him, Karl,” I said. “But in case you’re provoked, I’d strongly advise against it. He’s a Ferratus.”

Karl glanced at me.

“A half-demon who can make his skin as hard as iron. Hit him and you’ll break your hand.”

Griffin smiled. “Don’t take her word for it. Go ahead.”

“Once I have you pinned, you’re no longer a threat. But before we continue this pleasant little venture, let’s come to an understanding, Griffin. I don’t trust you. You clearly don’t trust me. Sudden moves of any kind can be easily misinterpreted as aggression.”

He released Griffin’s shirtfront. “Now, let’s find the source of the blood. I doubt your employer would be pleased if you let a fellow guard bleed to death because you got into a pissing contest with a werewolf.”

ANOTHER TWENTY FEET
down the hall, Karl veered into a room and lifted a hand to ward me off.

For once, I obeyed. I’d had enough.

Then the room went dark and I remembered that there was no sense blocking my eyes. The vision began.

A man stood with his back to me as he bent over an open filing cabinet drawer.

“Right where I said they were.” He pulled out a folder. “I appreciate that you’re putting in some overtime for a change, but if you’re going to interrupt—”

The
pftt
of a silenced shot. The man fell back against the cabinet. I saw his face then. William. The folder fluttered from his hand as he stared, incredulous, at his shooter.

His mouth opened, but a second shot sent him reeling. He crumpled against the filing cabinet, then slid to the floor.

When the vision ended, I didn’t jolt out of it. It just…stopped. And I just stopped. Like coming to the shocking end of a movie, sitting there, staring at the blank screen, unable to think, feel, move. Even the chaos vibes didn’t penetrate.

“Hope?”

Karl’s voice sounded miles away. I felt him grip my arms, as if through a thick winter coat.

“It’s been too much for her,” he said. “I need to get her out of here.”

His words floated past, disconnected, meaningless.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“The hell I’m not. Get out of my way.”

I recognized the rising chaos, but it was like pouring wine in front of my face—I could see it, smell it, know what it was, but it had no effect.

“Hope? Can you hear me? Can you walk, hon?”

“Hon? I should have guessed. A werewolf thief. She must
love
you. Just dripping with chaos.”

“Get out of my way.”

“You do know that’s all it is, don’t you? That’s all her kind care about. The chaos.”

“Get the fuck out of my—”

My eyes snapped open and I gasped, as if breaking free of icy water. “William? Is he—?”

“Yes, and we’re leaving.”

“No, I had a vision. I can help. I want to.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” Griffin said.

“One last time,” Karl said. “Get out—”

“Do you think Benicio Cortez won’t figure it out, Hope? You fooled him for a while, and nothing I could say would change his mind, but if my partner dies because—”

Karl made a move, as if to brush past Griffin, but he stepped into our path again, and I plucked at Karl’s sleeve, asking him to hold on.

“You think I shot Troy?” I said. “I was with Lucas and Paige, and if there’s a better alibi than that—”

“You didn’t need to pull the trigger. You had a whole gang of young men, just itching to do it, especially if there’s a pretty girl goading them on, so she can sit back and enjoy.”

“I didn’t—”

“Mr. Cortez hates stereotypes. He thinks you should take the measure of the man, not measure him by his type. But in some cases, the type is all that matters, and I know all about yours.”

“You know an Expisco?”

“Hope…” Karl began.

I wriggled from his grip and stepped closer to Griffin, consumed by the need to know, circumstances be damned.

“Are you still in touch with him? Could I talk to him?”

Griffin gave a harsh laugh. “Not without a necromancer.”

“He—he’s dead? How? No, just tell me. What was he like? Did he figure it all out? Did someone help him?”

“You want to know about Expisco half-demons? About yourself?” He stepped toward me. “Let me tell you about—”

Griffin staggered back, then collapsed to the floor. I wheeled to see Karl wiggling his fingers as if checking for damage. It took a moment to realize he must have clocked Griffin, the punch so fast I hadn’t seen it.

I turned to stare stupidly at Griffin, lying unconscious across the doorway.

“Whoops,” Karl said. “Benicio won’t be happy about that. But I did warn him. No sudden moves. As long as he’s out, though, no need to hang around.”

He grabbed me around the waist and swung me over Griffin into the hall. I took one last look at the fallen Ferratus.

“Is your hand—?” I began.

“Just fine. The trick, apparently, is to hit them before they see it coming.”

LUCAS: 12

“THEY’RE ON THE FOURTH FLOOR,”
the guard said. “They went down about ten minutes ago.”

I thanked him and headed for the elevators. Any would do. The fourth was staff level, meaning a simple card swipe or key code would allow us access.

As the car slowed, I stepped forward, waited for the doors to part and found myself nose to nose with Karl Marsten.

He had his arm around Hope, supporting her. Her face was drawn, and as her bleary eyes lifted to mine, she seemed to take a moment to recognize me.

I looked behind Karl. “Where’s Griffin?”

“Taking a nap.”

I must have looked alarmed, because he added, “I only knocked him out. But the man definitely needs to work on his people skills.”

“And William?” Paige asked.

Karl’s acerbity gave way to a look of genuine regret and he said gruffly, “I’m sorry, Lucas.”

“Someone shot him before we got here,” Hope whispered.

“Probably long before. The logs showed the elevator coming down a couple hours ago.”

I thought I’d prepared myself for this. Hope went on, saying that she’d seen a vision of his death and that he’d been killed by someone he seemed to know, that he’d been getting a file and commenting on his killer working overtime.

Carlos…

“I can go back,” she said. “I’ll try again and maybe pick up more.”

“No,” Karl said. She shot him a look, not too tired to resent him speaking for her. “You’ve done enough.”

“Karl’s right,” Paige said. “You need to get some rest.” As he bustled Hope onto the elevator, Paige murmured, “I’m sorry for putting her through this.”

“She wants to help,” he said.

“I know, but we didn’t mean to—We didn’t know.”

He nodded, then looked at me. “Your father did.”

I felt the weight of that look. How many times had I seen it? As if they expected me to apologize for my father’s behavior or at least explain it. I couldn’t.

I promised to call Karl with an update in the morning. He pretended not to hear, and the elevator doors closed.

WE FOUND GRIFFIN
in the doorway of a filing room, recovering from Karl’s blow. He was convinced Hope was behind tonight’s attacks, that she’d encouraged the gang to strike so she could enjoy the chaotic outcome.

I understood now that an attraction to chaos lay at the root of Hope’s powers. I presumed it was similar to a demon’s hunger for chaos, but it was difficult to transfer that concept from a demonic entity to a young woman, particularly one eager to
stop
trouble.

If my father knew of that chaos need, and brought her into a situation that would feed it…An issue to contend with later.

For now, I disabused Griffin of the notion that the gang was responsible for these attacks. The blueprints suggested they’d been involved, but only working under the real perpetrator—the one who’d supplied those plans. I did not, of course, speculate on the identity of that actor. Not until I had hard evidence.

When the security team arrived, I sent Griffin to the hospital to guard my father. Then I had to deal with William’s body.

Two brothers dead; the third almost certainly responsible. Had someone suggested this possibility yesterday, I’d have agreed that such a thing could happen—the tensions and jealousies that had been simmering all my life could finally explode in a Shakespearean tragedy. But the admission would have been purely intellectual. To witness it unfolding? Beyond comprehending.

I STOOD OUTSIDE
a hospital room in a small private facility run by supernaturals, funded by the Cabal for the sole use of their employees.

Two guards flanked the door, as immobile and expressionless as tin soldiers. I’d been standing here for five minutes and neither had acknowledged my presence. In light of the night’s events, to speak would mean having to find something to say, and it was easier to stare straight ahead and do their jobs.

Paige had gone in first to get an update on Troy. He was out of surgery, still unconscious, but his condition had stabilized. My father was with him, Griffin having joined them.

When I heard Paige offer my father something to eat, I knew she was starting to stall. I had to get in there.

Oh God, how could I tell him?

I took a deep breath and walked in. My father, hearing my footsteps, pulled back the curtain.

“Lucas.”

He reached out with one arm, the other hand clutching a coffee cup, cardboard rippling under his grip. One look in his eyes and I knew he already suspected what I was here to tell him. Maybe that should have made it easier.

It didn’t.

I walked over and embraced him.

A HALF-HOUR
later I was sitting in the tiny Reflections Room with Paige. Two guards were posted at the door. I’d have preferred to stay with my father, but it had been his suggestion that we rest here for a few minutes.

Someone had to find Carlos and supervise the intensive operations surrounding not only the investigation into my brothers’ deaths, but also the notifications, the cover-ups and the arrangements, both private and public. It would be too much for my father. The duty fell to me.

And he had another duty, one that I could not help him with: telling Delores that two of her sons were dead and the third was missing.

I hadn’t mentioned my suspicions about Carlos. As strong as my father was, that revelation might be too great a blow.

The search team had a report of Carlos dining at a restaurant he frequented. It had been hours since he’d been there, but it would be a place to start.

I was due to meet with the search team in thirty minutes. In the meantime, I was heeding my father’s advice, resting in the Reflections Room. In a public hospital, this would be the chapel. While many supernaturals adhere to a religious faith, the Cortez Cabal is careful to keep such places nondenominational.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I said after a few minutes.

“You can.”

“Investigate one brother for the murder of the other two?
My
brothers?”

“You can, but if you don’t want to, he’ll understand.”

I shook my head. “It isn’t a matter of want.”

“Then you can.”

I turned and she kissed me, barely more than a press of her lips against mine, but when she pulled back, I could still taste her. I lifted my hand to the back of her head, pulling her into me, and I wanted to lose myself in her, just for a moment, forget everything and—

My cell phone vibrated.

Paige sputtered a small laugh. “I’m going to guess that isn’t your heart—or anything else—fluttering.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’ll go find coffees,” she said. “We’ll need them.”

HOPE: DIAMONDS IN THE ROUGH

I
dozed as Karl drove, waking, befuddled, when he pulled into a lot I didn’t recognize. Then I remembered I couldn’t go back to my apartment, and briefly wondered how I was going to brush my teeth before deciding it really wasn’t that important.

Karl led me to an exit door. I felt a twinge of curiosity, but couldn’t muster the energy to ask. We entered a quiet, carpeted hotel hallway. A glance up and down the hall, then he sat me in a plush armchair next to a window overlooking a pool.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Wait here.”

“Where’s here?”

“The Royal Plaza. I’m going to get us a room.”

His lips brushed the top of my head. I watched him go, numb from my nap and number still from chaos exhaustion.

Why hadn’t we come in the front door? I was sure this was a place with valet service, and surer still that Karl never parked his car when he didn’t need to. One glimpse of my reflection in the window, though, and I realized I was in no state to endure curious stares.

I pulled my feet up, my shoes sliding off. I was almost asleep when Karl’s hands slid under my arms, lifting me.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.”

“No, I can walk.”

So I did, shoes in hand, leaning against him for support. He let me get as far as the room door then scooped me up and carried me inside. Even that brief trip to the bed, rocking against his warm body, was almost enough for me to drift off again.

But then, perversely, as I was finally lowered into the proper place for sleeping, the fog of the past hour parted and everything rushed back.

I saw Bianca’s face as the gun fired. Her killer standing over her body. Benicio’s guard, face destroyed, looking up at me, gaze empty. William reeling back, eyes wide with disbelief. Troy in a pool of blood.