That Old Black Magic (12 page)

“But what about what it says underneath?” Darrak asked. “I’m no Magnum, P.I., but I’m thinking that’s a clue.”

“You’re right. My guess is it says 55 Bloor Street West, which is the Manulife Centre, but no Brendan Franks came up there. But maybe it’s where he works.”

Eden blinked. “You
guessed
that?”

“I’m killer at Hangman. You have no idea.”

“I’m impressed.” She nervously played with the silver bracelet in her pocket. It remained cold as ice, not warming to her body temperature—one of the signs of its supernatural qualities.

Lucas wanted her to put this bracelet on Brendan Franks so they could have a conversation. Sounded so easy.
Too
easy.

She knew that likely meant it wouldn’t be.

And Darrak was right, she did prefer to call him Lucas even knowing exactly who he really was. What did that say about her? Was she ignoring reality?

As much as humanly possible, thank you very much. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t still painfully aware of it.

“How are you feeling today, Andy?” she asked, exchanging a glance with Darrak.

“I’m just fine and dandy. Never better. Why do you ask?” At her pointed look, he held up his hand. “Don’t you start with the werewolf thing again.”

“Andy—”

“No, Eden, I’m serious. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Frustration welled within her. “Denying it isn’t going to change anything. You’re the one who’s going to change.
Tonight.
Don’t be a fool.”

Andy pointed at the door. “You’re fired!”

Eden almost laughed, but managed to repress it. “You’re not my boss. We’re partners.”

He slumped forward on his desk. “Why must you torment me about this? I’m not a damned werewolf.”

“So prove it,” Darrak said.

Andy tensed. “What?”

“Prove it. Tonight at dusk.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“Let us lock you up right here,” Eden said, glancing around at their one-room office. “If you don’t change into a wolf, then you’re right and I’ll eat my words and apologize profusely every day for the rest of my life. But if I’m right, then you’ll be safely contained in here and you won’t hurt anyone.”

He made a face. “Contained? I could easily bust down that door with a well-placed kick.”

Darrak shook his head. “Normally I’d agree with you, Chuck Norris, but we happen to have a spell that will, allegedly”—he glanced at Eden and she saw the doubt about Maksim in his eyes. After what happened this morning she couldn’t really blame him there—“seal this place up nice and tight. Also, no one walking by will be able to see anything hairy going on in here. Literally.”

“
Here
,” Andy said skeptically.

“Yup.”

He sighed, and it sounded shaky. “How long do I need to be locked up before you two realize this lycanthropy thing doesn’t apply to me?”

“An hour,” Eden said.

“An hour. That’s it?”

“Yes.” She held her breath, hoping he wasn’t going to keep arguing with them. She had enough on her plate today already without this discussion going around in endless circles.

Andy reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his silver flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink from it before putting it back. “Fine.”

Eden raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You have my permission to lock me in here at sunset tonight for exactly sixty minutes and not one second longer. That’s it. That’s all. And then we can finally move on from this ridiculous topic of conversation. Agreed?”

“I think we can agree with that,” Darrak said. “And, FYI, it’s really not all that ridiculous.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is!”

Eden sighed. “We’re not arguing with you. It’s impossible.”

“
You’re
impossible,” Andy countered.

“Good comeback.”

Andy grabbed the printout from his Brendan Franks search and glanced at it. “Who is this guy, anyway?”

Eden took hold of the list of two addresses from him. “Just somebody I need to find.”

“For who? A client?”

“No.” She hesitated. “Actually, it’s for . . . Lucifer.”

Andy let the paper go so abruptly she staggered back a step. “Do I even want to know anything more about this?”

“Probably not”

“Then I won’t ask.”

“Good idea. We’ll be back later.” She looked at him sternly. “And don’t even think about leaving after work. You need to stay right here.”

He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

That was what you got when you tried to help people out these days. Shameless mocking.

So they were off on their Lucas-related assignment. Eden prayed it would go smoothly.

It was worth a shot.

Ben tried to make peace with the idea he’d be called upon to torture a woman for information later tonight. Not so strangely, that peace didn’t come.

He didn’t like to harm women. Ever. For any reason. He was old-fashioned that way.

If he stooped to the Malleus’s level to that extent, then he was no better of a monster than Darrak.

Ben wouldn’t be able to live with himself it if came to that.

There had to be another solution. And that solution was to get the shapeshifter to talk without any unpleasant means, and Oliver would be satisfied with whatever answers he was looking for. Only Ben would have to get those answers without first asking his boss for permission.

Say what you would about the Malleus and their airtight rules and employees who’d handed their very lives over to the “cause,” sometimes a little money worked as well as any magic ever could.

Especially to the guards who held the keys to the prisoner cells.

One of those greedy guards in question slipped his key into the shifter’s door.

“You have five minutes,” he gruffly informed Ben. “That’s it.”

“Do you think she’ll try to escape?”

“Not with that metal band on her wrist. It stops her from shifting, giving a hell of a shock if she even plays with it. She’s trapped here whether she likes it or not.”

“Handy.”

“Five minutes,” the guard reminded him.

It would have to be enough. This was a little talk that wasn’t sanctioned by Oliver. And he’d been avoiding Sandy ever since she delivered the tainted chicken soup yesterday.

He was on his own.

Other than a small cot and a toilet, there wasn’t much else in the ten-foot-square room but her. The woman crouched in the shadows in the corner.

Ben was met with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“What the hell do you want, Ken doll?” she snapped.

He gave her a smile that might have looked more like a grimace. “The name’s not Ken. It’s Ben.”

“Hooray for you. Leave me alone, jerk.”

“Jerk? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. You’re one of them.” She thrust her chin toward the door. “Locked me up in here like an animal.”

“Well, you
are
a shifter. So you’re an animal part-time, anyway, aren’t you?”

“Bite me.”

“Not in my plans. Sorry.” He glanced at the door, then moved toward it to look out the small window. The guard had moved down the hallway. They had a bit of privacy to speak.

When he looked back at the woman, she was already in front of him, her right fist aimed toward his jaw. He deflected the punch before it landed and wrenched her arm behind her back, pushing her up against the wall like he’d done hundreds of times before with common criminals who’d tried to escape.

“Be nice,” he warned.

“Why should I?”

“I’m not the bad guy here.”

“Sure,” she growled. “I believe it.”

“Have they hurt you?”

“No. But you’re hurting me right now.”

He let go of her. She scrambled away from him, returning to the opposite corner but staying on her feet. He swept his gaze over her. She was somewhere in her twenties, about five seven, with skin the color of cocoa and eyes like bright amber. Her black hair was long and sleek and swept back over her shoulders. The silver cuff circled her left wrist. She wore a simple white T-shirt, which looked a size too small, making her breasts strain against the jersey material.

He felt something stir within him.

Great. The last goddamned thing he needed right now was to find himself attracted to a prisoner. And a bitchy, unhelpful one at that.

“How do you know Eden Riley?” he asked bluntly. The sooner he could get out of here the better.

The woman’s eyes widened as if he’d surprised her, but then they narrowed. “No idea who you’re talking about.”

“How about Eden’s new boyfriend, Darrak? The one that’s going to suck the life right out of her. Do you know
him
?”

Her jaw tightened.

“I know you do,” he said. “And I have a funny feeling that you just might care what happens to Eden enough to offer up some helpful info.”

“Did you say your name was Ben?” she asked. “That wouldn’t happen to be . . . Ben
Hanson
, would it?”

This time he took a step back. “You know who I am?”

“I’ve heard things.”

“How about you tell me what they are?”

She gave him a thin smile. “How about you go screw yourself?”

He studied her for a moment. “Does the tough chick act usually work at making people back off?”

She snorted. “Works like a charm, actually.”

“It won’t with me. Believe it or not I’m trying to help you. These are answers we need, and if you don’t want to give them to me right now, just chatting like this, then there are going to be consequences.”

“Story of my life.”

“I can help you.” He pressed back against the cell’s cold wall.

“I’ve heard that line before, handsome. I’ve realized the hard way that the only person who’s ever going to help me out of a jam is myself.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Hard life?”

“It’s had its moments.”

“No knights in shining armor?”

“I’m not the type who believes in them.” She swept her gaze over him. “Why? You offering to suit up?”

“No. Not me.” He extended his arm to show her the brand that bound him to the Malleus body and soul. “My choices are limited when it comes to rescuing damsels in distress these days.”

“Too bad.”

“Just tell me one thing . . .”

“What?”

“Darrak . . . he’s bad news, isn’t he?”

She hesitated, but then her jaw clenched. “He’s an archdemon. That’s the worst kind of demon there is.”

“What about any changes to do with him absorbing Eden’s celestial energy? Did you ever notice any change in him because of this?”

“Not really. He puts up a good front that he’s a decent guy now, but I don’t believe it. I’ve seen too much in my life to believe he’s in this because he really loves her. Call me a cynic.”

Oliver thought she had more answers than that. He was fixated on the nephilim energy potentially changing the demon. This bit of info wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

“I need to go,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t help you. Really.”

She let out a long shuddery breath. “If you can’t rescue my sorry ass, then do me a favor and rescue Eden. Before it’s too late.”

“I’ll try my best.” He turned from her and rapped on the door to get the guard’s attention.

The door opened a moment later, and he felt the woman’s warm hand on his shoulder. He glanced back at her warily, but this time she didn’t look ready to claw his eyes out. She looked sad and vulnerable.

“That mark on your arm? It’s just a scar unless you believe differently.”

“I wish you were right.”

He left her, feeling like hell that she didn’t know enough to save her own neck and knowing he’d likely have to see her again later that night under less than pleasant circumstances. But one thing the beautiful shifter had reminded him about was his original goal.

If he could save Eden from the demon who possessed her, then everything else in his life just might start to make sense again.

Eden peered through the fence at their first stop, where Andy said they’d find the only confirmed Brendan Franks in Toronto. After this, all they had was the lead on the address at the Manulife Centre downtown.

“That can’t be him,” she said.

“I disagree,” Darrak replied. “He looks like someone Lucifer might want to have a chat with.”

Brendan appeared to be about six years old and was currently on recess at a local elementary school.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Eden, don’t be naïve. Demonic children are a dime a dozen in the Netherworld. Need I mention Children of the Corn? Damien? Justin Bieber?”

Brendan ran toward the entrance to the school when the bell rang and succeeded in tripping and falling. He sat there for a stunned moment before he started to wail. A teacher came over and helped him to his feet, patting him comfortingly on the top of his head.

“Well . . . maybe you’re right,” Darrak conceded. “Lucifer isn’t a big fan of crybabies. I know this from personal experience.”

The other location was looking more promising with every passing moment.

Eden knew she had to concentrate, but her mind kept wandering. Why did this have to happen today? Couldn’t Lucas wait till next week? Next month? Exactly what kind of conversation did he want to have, and why hadn’t he been more forthcoming with the details?

She could ask a million questions, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing. She had to come through on this. Lucas hadn’t specifically threatened Darrak, but the prince simply had too much control over her demon in residence. After how close she’d come this morning to losing him, she hated that Lucas could use him as punishment if she messed up a job for him again.

“We do need to see Maksim again,” she said. “First thing tomorrow. I don’t want to put it off any longer after what happened earlier.”

“No harm done.”

“Wrong. Harm
was
done. Just because you’re okay now doesn’t ease my mind a fraction.”

He nodded as they returned to the Toyota. “Fine, if you absolutely insist. I’ll stifle my dislike of that guy for another day. But don’t get your hopes up. He already told you what the other option is if we can’t break the curse.” He said it lightly, but his expression was tight.