Three Wishes (12 page)

Dar’s eyes zeroed in on the items. If the red ones would bring a few hundred on the black market, how much could he make on these? The demon’s thoughts immediately focused on how to steal as many of them as possible. Perhaps he could watch where Carter stored them and sneak in later to steal the lot. Hmm, another reason to make nice with this guy.

“Want one? I’m going to save one for Asta, but I can spare another for you.” It was a grudging offer, business interests warring against fierce sexual competition. “Here. This is our top-of-the-line product. Take one.”

Why yes, he would take one. Dar reached out an eager hand to grab the stick and brushed his fingers against Carter’s.

The residual demon energy snaked faintly through him—sulfur and grapefruit with a raspy, pebbled feel to it. It was a signature of power—one from a demon that wouldn’t easily make it through a gate undetected. What. The. Fuck.

In spite of the energy, Carter was not the demon. He was human, but definitely a human who had been in close contact with a demon. But where had the demon been? One of his employees? One of the many attendees who’d strolled into the booth today? Or was Carter the sorcerer?

If he was, where the fuck was the demon? It hadn’t been summoned into the hall. Had Carter left and done his magic elsewhere? Dar pocketed the USB stick and glanced at his watch. Two hours until he met Asta. Time enough for a little snooping.

“Phelps, do you have time to chat about your products? I know we’re both chasing after the same woman here, but I’m willing to put that aside for business. I’ve been contracted by a German holding company that had a rather embarrassing breach in a major division this year. I’m sure you understand that I can’t reveal their name, but I’m very interested in what your company has to offer.”

The man’s eyes lit up, although there was still a wary narrowing around the edges. He quickly shoved the remaining blue sticks into a cabinet and locked it. “Absolutely. It’s difficult enough to regain customer trust after a breach, but a second one would spell the end for a business. Your company is right to look to the best.”

And here comes the kicker. Dar only hoped what Wyatt had inferred earlier was true. “I’ve got to be straight forward with you—we’re also looking at a competitor of yours. Wyatt Lowry came highly recommended. He’s a one-man shop, without the vast customer base that you have, but he’s really brilliant.”

Bingo. Carter Phelps stiffened, his lips thinning to a grim line. “I’m brilliant too. And no other company has a reputation on par with Genus Micro.”

It was a petulant statement, as if he’d spent his life around those who doubted his brilliance, as though he had to defend his intellect every second of every day. Still, the man’s tone wasn’t defiant or bold; it was weak and full of doubt. The man had defended his mental abilities for so long, he’d begun to doubt them himself.

Not exactly the MO for a sorcerer. How the fuck had this guy managed to summon a demon, let alone control one? He should have been a blood splatter on a hotel wall. Maybe Dar had it all wrong, and the residual energy was from a customer or employee. There was only one way to find out.

“Well, of course you’re brilliant! Cobra, and now this. I’ve got to say, Phelps, this Ouroboros you’re releasing might just be the product we’re looking for. Let’s get a quiet drink somewhere and see what we can do about my client’s problem.”

The man nodded eagerly, his business interests temporarily pushing aside any romantic rivalry. “Sure. I’m staying at the Four Quarters over on Wacker. Let’s pop over there and continue our conversation.”

“In order to get your opinion on what solution Genus Micro would offer, I’d need to reveal some rather confidential details,” Dar cautioned.

“I understand.” Phelps seemed to struggle then made a frustrated noise. “I have the top-floor suite. We could speak there without worry of anyone listening in.”

Dar tried for a friendly, relieved smile. It was probably the same as his predatory smile, given the human’s wary expression. “Perfect. I’ve got a hard stop at five-thirty—a rather lively evening planned with a certain lady, if you know what I mean.”

Carter looked furious. “You’re not going to get anywhere with her. She’s better than some two-bit consultant. Still, I’ll make sure you’re on board with Genus Micro by the time you meet your
date
.”

‘Date’ sounded like he’d spat something foul onto the floor. Dar smothered a grin. He really needed to cozy up to Phelps and get information on who he’d been in contact with that might be the demon, but he couldn’t resist the urge to stick it to him. Yeah, buddy, I’ve got a date with the beautiful angel and you don’t.

There was an awkward silence as they left the closed convention and walked several blocks to the hotel. The streetlights echoed the radiant gold and red of the sunset over the city edge. The river reflected the glow in the small wake that followed the tour boats. On the opposite side of the bridge, joggers danced down the riverside promenade, muscles straining in the evening light. The Four Quarters had a dock on the river for those who wanted to enter from the promenade or via small craft. Dar followed the human around the front of the building, past the valet service, and through the massive glass doors. The concierge greeted Phelps by name as they made their way past the open-layout dining area and lounge to the huge bank of elevators.

Carter Phelps’s penthouse suite at the Four Quarters was as plush as the one Dar was staying in. Outside the panoramic windows, cars snaked by. Dots of light moved along in the distance framed by the sunset-lit waters of Lake Michigan. Sweet, but it probably didn’t have the amazing tub that Dar’s had.

The human was stiff and formal as he ushered Dar onto the plush sofa and offered him a drink. The demon watched him chip ice then looked around for anything that might clue him in to what supernatural force Phelps had been in contact with. Nothing beyond the smallest trace of demon energy. The room was as sterile as any other hotel suite. Carefully coordinated design elements, entertaining area, and small dining area bisected by a miniscule kitchen. The dining table was covered with a variety of brochures, pamphlets, and stacks of paper. A laptop blinked beside it. Dar began to feel there was nothing here to give him a clue, but he might as well play the game ‘til the end.

“My client was vulnerable to four significant attacks last year.” Dar announced, still scanning the room. “Of that, three we were able to do damage control before the public found out, but this last one... financials and critical customer information is probably now in the hands of the highest bidder.”

Phelps glanced up from the mini bar and winced, looking both sympathetic and antagonistic at the same time. It was a disturbing combination of expressions. “We’ve had several clients turn to us after similar scenarios. Data shows after implementing a Genus Micro solution, their vulnerability is less than one percent. During the last three years, none of the clients who implemented our suite of products had any compromised data.”

Dar nodded as the man rambled stiffly on, citing all sorts of statistics. Where was the demon? Employee who’d visited here? Valued client that had close contact with him? Phelps had a residual energy signature, but nothing more. Although there was no sign of a summoning circle or any kind of magical device, the energy signature was faint but steady—as if the demon were watching from behind some kind of gauzy curtain.

Taking the offered crystal tumbler with murmured thanks, Dar continued scanning the room as he sipped his drink. It was a typical upscale hotel suite. Sofas loaded with pillows, color-coordinated abstract paintings, geometric lamps with pleated shades—nothing suggested a summoning had occurred here, let alone any other kind of demon meeting. Still, there was that annoyingly elusive trace of energy. Had the demon left an item behind? Was he hiding in the bedroom closet? What the fuck was emitting that energy?

“What kind of presence do you have in Europe?” Dar asked, standing and walking casually to the window, as if he wanted to admire the view. “My client is a bit suspicious of U.S. companies, and having references from an EU country would help to close the deal.”

He had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but he’d heard enough boring elven crap over the last thousand years to fake it.

Phelps rambled off some names while Dar thought through likely scenarios. Wherever the demon was, it wasn’t here. The energy just wasn’t strong enough for him to be hiding under the sofa or in the bedroom. That left either an imprinted item, or this pesky human as a sorcerer. There wasn’t a summoning circle, but he’d hardly expected one burned into the carpet. If Dar were to do something dangerous and rather unlawful, he’d hardly do it in his hotel living room.

“Damn! Sorry, the glass slipped.” Dar held his hands to the side, dripping whisky on the carpet as he looked mournfully down at his stained, white shirt. “Can you grab those testimonials for me while I try and salvage this shirt?”

“Of course.”

Dar blotted at the shirt a few times with a napkin, waiting for Phelps to start going through the stack of brochures before heading down the hallway. Bathroom first door on the left, so the bedroom would be the second door. If the guy was a sorcerer, this was probably where he’d be doing his summoning.

The room was luxurious. A California King bed with a padded headboard was flanked with ebony bedside tables. A few items of clothing were folded neatly on the mussed bed, and an open suitcase sat on the wing-backed chair. Looked like Carter Phelps was refusing room service. Other than general disarray, nothing screamed demon. Nothing seemed particularly out of place in a hotel bedroom except for the items displayed on top of the dresser in a careful manner. It was almost as though the man had set up a sort of shrine, although why an old pack of playing cards and a chipped mason jar belonged in a shrine was beyond Dar’s comprehension. The picture he could understand; humans had great reverence for visual reminders of those they loved, but the other objects were just bizarre.

Still, the demon energy was strongest in this room, so Dar made his way to the display and carefully looked through the mismatched array of items. Behind the brass-framed picture was something that took the demon’s breath away—an antique stoppered bottle.

Dar didn’t dare touch it. Purple and shades of smoky gray swirled in a fussy pattern around the base. Gilded handles curved from either side. It was old, and he would have recognized its purpose even if he hadn’t felt the stamp of demon energy on the bottle.

Oh shit
. Spinning on his heel, he exited, slipping into the bathroom to hurriedly sponge the spilled whisky from his shirt. By the time he returned, Phelps had put together a neat packet of information, his card paper-clipped to the top.

“I wrote my cell phone number down.” He pointed to the card, his tone frosty. “I’m happy to fly over to Germany if they’d like to meet me or have me demonstrate the product. Otherwise, I think our references will speak for themselves.”

“Thank you.” Dar glanced at the top sheet and tucked the packet under his arm. “I hate to run like this, but it’s never wise to leave a lady waiting.”

“Of course.” Phelps sneered. “You might want your clients to install that copy of Ourobouros by the end of the day even if they’re still undecided on your proposal. I’ve heard rumblings that there’s something big coming out of Southeast Asia.”

“I’m not surprised.” There was a poignant moment of tension between the two as Dar headed toward the door. Cameras, sensors—the room was loaded with security devices. He’d expected no less. “I’m grateful for your assistance. I’ll be in touch on behalf of my client.”

“Right.” Phelps’s voice radiated disdain. “Have your client load the software—or not. It’s your choice. And it’s your cross to bear if they fall to a cyber attack next week.”

The warning was clear, but Dar didn’t give a shit. He nodded deferentially and strode out of the penthouse suite, taking the elevator to the lobby.

Pocketing the business card, Dar tossed the rest of the paperwork in the trash bin. Interesting. Asta would be very pleased at what he’d found out, although he had no plans to tell her until after their date night. Angels were workaholics, and there’s no way he was going to let some other demon interfere with what he was hoping would be the first of many entertaining evenings with her.

Chapter 8

A
sta smoothed her hair, checking that all the wild curls were neatly tucked into the barrette at the nape of her neck. Walking in these pointy-heeled shoes had taken months of practice. Running, jumping, and climbing in them was even trickier. But they were so beautiful with their shiny cream tops and red soles—worth every agonizing effort. And they made her legs look insanely long.

So did the dress. Soft chiffon folds came to mid-thigh, while the snug white underskirt barely covered her rear. The whole outfit narrowed, hugging from her hips and waist on up. Strapless, the top portion had a vee neck that revealed a significant amount of cleavage. Asta had spent several minutes trying to yank the top up only to realize that covering her chest meant her rump would be exposed.

Human women showed a lot of leg and breast tissue, so the dress was hardly indecent by their standards. It’s not that she had any issues about nudity—or near nudity—it just seemed wrong that her appearance was causing such havoc with the human males. The angel bit back a smile. It definitely was wrong that she was enjoying their attention, and probably just as wrong that she’d been wondering all evening what Dar would say when he saw her.

Lolita’s was lit up with yellow neon, humans lingering outside with black plastic boxes in hand. Of course there would be a wait. This was the new hot spot downtown. Asta wondered if Dar had thought to make reservations. Demons probably didn’t think about such things—not that angels did either. Wondering at their odds of getting a table without her having to work her angel-mojo, Asta halted. An available table was the least of her worries. She couldn’t even get inside.