Shift Work (Carus #4) (28 page)

I sighed and leaned back. The office chair was real leather and super cushy. I rocked it back and forth a little before spinning it around once. To test it, of course.

Tristan cleared his throat and finally looked up, pegging me with his gem-cutting gaze.

“I’m not sure it’s even forgiveness I’m searching for. I feel like I should be angry at you. Like I shouldn’t be with the person responsible for the murder of my biological parents, but…”

“But?” He pounced on the word, his tone gruff and low.

“But, I’m not angry. I don’t hold you responsible for my parents’ deaths. That doesn’t sit right with me. It was Ethan. I know that. There must be something wrong with me, because after the initial wave of confusion and anger, I just feel…weird.”

Tristan tilted his head and studied me. “So, you’ve been upset with me because you think you should be upset with me?”

Well, when he said it like that… “Pretty much.”

“Huh.”

“Now I just feel stupid. I also feel like I failed you.”

“Failed me?”

“The first time you divulge some of your painful past, which couldn’t have been easy, I not only threw it in your face, but pushed you away. Some mate I am.” I looked down at my twisted hands. “Can you understand?”

Tristan reached over and placed his hand on top of mine. “Yeah, I can understand. You have the right to be upset. To be angry and confused. I suspected you would need time to process. Now that you’ve had a bit though…” He paused. His gaze flashed leopard-yellow. His jaw clenched. “Can you forgive me?”

The indescribable tenderness—the one I’d experienced during our first true night together, the one so fragile yet strong and potent at the same time—built in in my chest, expanding again to the brink of pain. Watching Tristan struggle to maintain control of his animal while asking forgiveness and trying to hide how much my answer meant to him, sent comforting warmth through my body.

Could I forgive him? “I think so. But why do I feel so awkward? Like I’ve emotionally shut down?”

Tristan’s mouth widened, and his white teeth flashed. Musky coconut infused in his scent as he leaned forward. “I know the perfect cure for that.” His muscles tensed as if he prepared to haul me out of the seat and throw me on the board table.

My heart raced. “What about—”

“Got everything!” Olly exclaimed as he knocked and opened the door in a single motion. “Oh! Um…sorry.”

“Thank you, Olly.” Tristan straightened and snatched the thick folder and a large document tube from Olly.

Olly rubbed his shaved head and shifted his weight back and forth. “I sent the rest to the laptop.” His cheeks flamed red. He nodded at both of us before hastily backing out of the room, and shutting the door.

“Might have to increase that paycheck,” I said.

Tristan nodded and pulled what looked like floor plans from the document tube. “Let’s pick apart Tancher Pharmaceuticals first.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“There is no future. There is no past… Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.”

~Dr. Manhattan, Watchmen: Chapter 9

Sleep came quickly as I lay in bed and ran my fingers along my lips, the same lips that had pressed against Tristan’s before he said goodbye, and reconfirmed our date for after the Tancher takedown.

Soft, full, and pliable. His lips had covered mine while his tongue delved into my mouth and stirred passion strong enough to vibrate my bones.

My heart swelled with the knowledge we’d work things out, that my emotional block would go away, and we’d get back to where we were, only better, only stronger.

My mind drifted in a deep sleep, roaming through memories, more good than bad.

The flickering film reel of images slowed, then cleared, and suddenly my feet sank into the mossy bank of a river. Mist caressed the shoals and trickling water, while large rocks protruded from the flowing mass with a glossy sheen.

Movement across the water caught my attention. A dark form took shape. Tristan?

I straightened and smoothed down my gossamer nightgown.

Nightgown?

My gaze narrowed, and the mist parted to reveal a seven foot Seducer Demon.

“Sid,” I spat.

He held his hands up, palms out. “Truce, Carus. I came to talk.”

I grumbled, but my slurs didn’t faze him. When he continued to study me, I caved. “What do you want?”

“A truce.”

“A truce?”

He nodded.

“Because you’ve realized I can jump in and manipulate your dreams to make your sleepy-time as miserable as you’ve made mine?”

He scowled.

“Isn’t nice, is it?”

“No.”

“Well, remove your mark. Find a more willing anchor.” My heart beat quickly in my chest. Maybe this would get me out of the bond.

Sid folded his arms across his chest. His pectoral muscles bubbled up. “I want to come to an agreement.”

I waited.

“I will continue to use you as my anchor. That’s not something I’m giving up. However, I’m a reasonable Demon. I’m open to negotiation, I can give you things, many things.”

My body tensed. “I don’t need assistance in the multiple orgasm department, Demon.”

Sid smirked. “I know.”

My brain scrambled. He would continue to use the bond regardless of tonight’s outcome. My shoulders sagged. Maybe… Maybe I should negotiate with the Demon. May as well try to set some boundaries and make the situation more tolerable until I found a way out of it altogether.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s make a deal.”

He nodded. “Name your terms, little Carus.”

“Find a way to make the transition to the mortal realm less uncomfortable. That shit hurt.” I flicked up a finger for each point. “Stop manipulating my dreams, and I’ll promise the same. Stop feeding off my sexual energy, and I’ll promise to feed you real food on new moon nights. You can use me as an anchor once a month, but you have to promise to do no harm while you’re here.”

“No nuts.”

“Excuse me?” Coming from a seducer Demon, it was a reasonable request for clarification.

“No nuts in whatever you feed me, and a proviso on the no harm term and we have a deal. Your parameters are quite reasonable.”

“What kind of proviso?”

“I will not harm you or anyone under your protection. I reserve the right to harm those who attack either me or you, and I reserve the right to harm others on an individual basis. These would be people who’ve wronged me in the past or present, not random, group slaughters, like Bola. I don’t feed on pain, fear, or bloodshed, and typically avoid it. You know this.”

I nodded. Crap. Should I have asked for more? He agreed so easily. “No nuts. I agree to the ‘no harm’ revision, but I also reserve the right to renegotiate, should other situations arise.”

Sid narrowed his gaze.

I shrugged. I could turn his slumber into a nightmare. No more wet dreams for him. “Take it or leave it.”

“Deal,” he said.

“Do we shake on it?” I eyed the river.

“Silly mortal.” He grew a talon and sliced open his palm.

Demons and their fascination with blood. I mirrored his actions and recited my agreement to the terms.

Yup. I’d just made a deal with the Devil. Well, his assistant, anyway.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“A common mistake people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.”

~Douglas Adams

The cool fall wind rustled the soft feathers on the underside of my wings as I glided through the night toward Anacis Island—home of Tancher Pharmaceuticals.

With the plan firmly in place, now was not the time to take a joy ride, no matter how perfect the flying conditions.

The aerial view showed the VPD task force moving into position. With radio silence, they counted on me to get the job done. I couldn’t let them down.

I wouldn’t let Stan down.

After confirming the Pharaoh’s presence in Denver at a Vampire convention, we chose a night raid to obtain the files and servers and to seize any King’s Krank on site to avoid the daytime office workers. We didn’t want to unnecessarily risk lives or risk the staff holing up in their offices to destroy evidence before we reached them.

The wind pushed and pulled as it swirled around the trees and multilevel buildings on the island. Tucking my wings in, I flew to the top of Tancher Pharmaceuticals. With both feet perched on the ledge of the roof, my falcon eyesight spotted the north tactical team moving to the ditch across the street. One of them, Stan, took out a mirror and caught the light from the overhanging streetlamp to flash me the message.

Go time.

With a few hops and flaps of my wings, I made it to the central air duct on the rooftop. A quick shift to human form allowed me the use of fingers. The small grate and six screws provided little resistance to my supe strength. Metal scraped against metal for a brief second before I flung the grate off the vent. I paused. My heart stuck in my throat. No alarm sounded. I relaxed.

This was the hard part. I couldn’t slither up metal, nor could I fly down the narrow duct. So I’d have to prop myself up on the vent and then shift into the snake. The building plans Tristan provided showed a drop until the duct branched into multiple directions. The trick would be to not die from the three meter drop. When my tiny, vulnerable, non-badass snake-self hit the branching part, I needed to pick the right direction, too.

Here goes nothing.

The shift back to a falcon, left my head dizzy and ears ringing. Never good to shift in quick succession. I could handle it though. I had to.

Using the air flows, I flew to the open grate and braced my small body with my talons gripping the thick metal on each side of the hole. The wind pushed against my sides. I wobbled. Teetering to maintain balance, my little bird heart hammered in my chest.

Deep breath.

I focused inward and called Kaa. As soon as her cold energy appeared, I pulled her essence into me and shifted. The shape came swiftly. My blood cooled as the scales crawled up my skin and replaced feathers. My beak receded and my tongue elongated, becoming forked. Flesh compacted. After sharp pain raked my body, my shift completed.

And I dropped.

I bounced off the sides of the duct as I tried to wrangle my small body into some sort of orientation. My brain spun as the air rushed by me.

Splat.

I hit the junction. The hard metal stung every cell of my body. My head whipped against the air duct. My ribcage narrowed, and my breath whooshed out. Stunned.

That fucking hurt.

Slowly, feeling returned to my body. With no diaphragm in snake form, my ribcage ached as it widened to suck in more air. Apnea set in after each exhale. Stillness flowed over my skin. Was this normal? Did snakes stop breathing? It seemed…wrong.

Normal
, Kaa hissed.
Get a wiggle on
.

The light travelling down the duct from the roof illuminated four directions, not three, like the building plan stated. Which way was the correct one?

My tongue flicked out, tasting the air. Tiny nodes gathered odour particles and transferred them to fluid filled sacs at the roof of my mouth. Not quite tasting, not quite smelling, either. At least, not in a familiar way. The sensory details flooded my mouth and gathered behind my eyes, as if my pea-sized snake brain translated the air information into a thought or scent memory.

Paper and pencils floated up the duct directly ahead of me. That way must lead to the offices. I twisted around and repeated the action. KK and something else, something “other.” I couldn’t describe it, but probably not the right way, either. I turned to the next option. Cardboard and steel. Probably the warehouse. The last direction delivered gunpowder, steel, and stagnant air to my tongue. Bingo. The security room.

Slowly, I started to move. Or tried to. The use of muscles didn’t come naturally. The sideways undulation I’d used before didn’t seem to work. I slipped down to the centre of the duct over and over again. I should’ve practiced more before the operation, but my thoughts had been focused on Tristan.

My breathing quickened as my pulse beat heavy in my tiny snake form.

I shook my little snake head and focused. Thinking of Tristan would have to wait. Moving the correct way through the air ducts mattered more at this moment. If I didn’t find a way out, I’d never see Tristan again, anyway.

Never see Tristan again? My heart ached, as if it would rip in two.

With a snake hiss, I stopped and turned my attention inward. Pulling harder on the snake fera.
Come on, Kaa! Do your thing!

Relax,
she hissed.
I got this.

Her presence filled my mind as she took over my body, but not completely, more like she guided my motion while still allowing me to control it. With the soft scaly underside of my body I anchored to the metallic air duct by flexing in a series of alternating bends. This allowed me to press against the sides of the duct. Properly anchored, I straightened one of the bends in my body to extend forward. I started to slip. Quickly, I flexed the part of my body right behind my head to form another anchor and pulled the latter half of my body forward.

Flex, bend, anchor, straighten, extend, flex, pull, repeat.

I can do this!
Just need to straighten and reform bends. Easy peasy.

Good,
Kaa said. She relinquished her minimal control and receded into my mind.

Picking up speed, I inched through the metal air duct and made my way to the security office. As my tongue flicked forward to taste the air, more sensory details accumulated in my mind. Three men. Guns. Computers.

I pushed forward.

Muffled sounds travelled through the pipes—grumbling voices, the creak of a chair, tapping on keyboards. The air waves hit the side of my snake body, vibrating the scaly skin, transferring to muscle and bone before reaching the ear bones beneath my skull. The noise, though light, rippled through every fibre of my body.

After I turned the corner, the light from the room reflected off the metal and flooded the air duct. Lateral slats across a vent at the end broke the lighting up into sheets of bright bands.