I strode down the street, wind in my hair and a pocketful of cash after another successful job. The sucker had actually thought that he was getting the real Cintamani Stone. That daywalker couldn't tell the difference between fossilized amber from the Tree of Life and a hunk of cheap glass. The real piece was safely tucked away and all I had to do was decide which offer I was going to accept. Yeah, life was good.
And I looked good, too, I thought, catching a glimpse of myself in a store window. Blood red leather jacket that belted around the waist and flared slightly at the hips, the V-necked front filled with a black scarf against the cold. Snug jeans and a pair of tall black boots that hugged my calves and just a slight rise to bump me up to three inches over five feet. Dark brown hair, looking black in the dim light, whipped around my pale face. My lips were painted the same colour as my jacket, and smoky makeup framed my eyes, also dark brown.
Granted I wore a disguise earth charm, but just to change my facial features, and to shorten and straighten my hair. Everything else pretty much stayed the same. Even on simple deliveries I took care to hide what I truly looked like. The thought of what my father would say about my dramatic aesthetic choices flitted through my mind and the reflection's strong jaw tightened. One would think that on the cusp of one's third decade, things like parental approval would diminish in importance. But they don't.
Shoving the thought away, I turned to cross the street and the wind changed direction, carrying a faint musk. Shit. My heart skipped a beat before breaking into a full gallop. Only switching my motor functions to autopilot prevented me from freezing, which was not an action I could afford at the moment. Pretending to pull the hair from my face, ok not much pretending needed there, I caught a glimpse of the tail.
He was good. Sticking to the shadows, he was still a block away. But that wouldn't matter to a demon. There was no one else it could be with that scent. I should know. I smell the same way. Crossing as soon as there was a gap in traffic, it took sheer willpower to not speed up. Letting him follow me back to the safe house, even with its defenses and offenses, I wasn't willing to give up that site yet. There was too much inventory to grab and run.
The next block had just what I was looking for: the tucked away parking lot that was mostly empty at this time of night. It was a good spot to drop a car for a bit since locals were pretty much the only ones who knew about it, and it was regularly patrolled by the city, despite lacking working streetlights. And there weren't likely to be any witnesses in the surrounding buildings, or ones willing to talk anyway.
Taking a deep breath, I reached out to the ley line that ran through Pioneer Square. The energy twined with the adrenaline to sing in my veins and sent my hair floating now that it was no longer being blown about. I ran through the spells I knew off the top of my head, wishing I had my little black splat gun. But it was not a good idea to bring an obvious weapon to a deal lest the mark get spooked and assume that they were being double-crossed. There were far subtler ways to pull off a con.
Not that fight was my first instinct. No, mine was to hide, lie, beguile, and/or run. But he had caught my scent and would know if I switched my disguise. I normally carry scent charms, too, but Marko was human so I didn't think I'd need one. Besides, the charm would change my face, not my clothes.
Far quieter than I would have thought possible, my shadow turned the corner and I flung my spell. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent it spinning into the brick wall on the other side of the lot. Bloody hell, he's good. I drew up more, not bothering with a proper spell, just pure energy and I could have sworn I heard him sigh as if in boredom.
"Elena Verity Cunnington, I have not come to harm you." He batted away the ball, which crashed next to the first. Crap, he knows my name! Dread weighed heavy in my stomach."However, if you insist upon this course of action I will have no compunction in doing so." The growl of his voice rumbled through my chest, dark with the threat. I stopped, but did not let go of the line.
"The name's Kyra now. What do you want?" I asked cautiously. The closest exit that he wasn't blocking was too far because he would undoubtedly be faster. Demons like deals, let's try that. "If it's about the Stone, I'm sure we can work something out."
"I am not here over some trinket," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Your presence is requested at the Rosewood Institute of Cincinnati."
"Oh hell no." Adrenaline spiked again and the need to run screamed in my brain. "There's no freaking way I'm going back there! Calix!" He said something at the same time that I shouted my trigger word for a circle, but instead of him being encapsulated by my normal deep red shot through with yellow aura, I was circled by his golden bubble. Panic clutch at my throat, but when it comes to choosing between fear and anger, I invariably chose anger. It keeps you alive longer. I beat at the wall, ignoring the pain of it. "You son of a goat faced whore! When I'm out of here I'm going to shove you ass first into a bottle and sell you to the lowest bidder!"
He simply stood with folded arms and watched over the rim of his square sunglasses, goat-slitted eyes faintly glowed red. I used my tirade to assess him. Standing at approximately six feet, he was of a medium build for that stature. For all I knew he could be all flab under that coat, and he'd still be ridiculously strong. The coat was grey wool cut in not too dissimilar a fashion from mine, accentuating his shoulders and waist. Black pants, that probably hugged his hips, brushed the tops of black suede loafers. The breeze blew dark curls over his forehead and occasionally dimmed the fire of his gaze.
When I ran out of curses, I stopped to catch my breath. But I was not about to rub the burning aches that ran up to my shoulders and above my knees. Huffing, I tossed my hair out of my face, put my hands on my hips, and settled my best glare on him.
"Are you quite done with your little temper tantrum?" he asked, irritation and amusement fought for dominance in his voice. I narrowed my eyes, but said nothing. "Now are you going to come quietly or not?" The lilt to his phrasing indicated that he preferred non-cooperation. I folded my arms and bit the inside of my lip, frantically trying to find an out. But for the life of me, I couldn't find one.
Son of a goat-faced whore? I was going to have to remember that one.
Damn my dame, she was stubborn, irrational, conniving, and would not recognize what was in her best interests if it kicked her in the teeth. In short, she was a demoness. Or as close as one could get nowadays. She'd actually had the gall to try and circle me! No one had tried to do that in years, not since I had left the FIB officially. If it weren't for the continuation of the species and so on and so forth and the request of one itchy witch, I would make her pay for that. But it was entertaining to watch her desperately think of an escape that did not exist as we had our little stare-down. Interestingly, she never flinched away from my eyes. Maybe I should have increased the glow?
"Who sent you?" she demanded, trying to buy time.
"The heads of the Morgan-Kalamack Foundation," I answered with a calculatedly bored air. There was no harm in letting her play on the line before realizing that she was hooked and being reeled in. Not that I had ever fished a day in my life, but according to certain droll TV shows that was how it was done. However, her fear was not of me, but rather of my purpose. It was not until I mentioned Rachel and her elf's pet project that she truly was afraid. Curious. Now how to use that to my best advantage?
"And as a gesture of my goodwill, I give you this for free. Since you are amongst the original Rosewood babies, the Institute wishes to continue their long-term studies of the cure and to assess whether or not certain conditions are side-effects or are outliers in the sampling." Clasping my hands behind my back, I slid into the mannerisms I had used when lecturing another thick-headed witch.
"What side-effects?" And the hook is set. As simple as this errand was, I found myself wishing for the contracts and trickery of the good ole days. Or maybe they were the bad ole days? I could never decide which. Very few things matched the satisfaction of a cunningly worded agreement that ensnared the opponent.
"Vomiting, sterility, involuntary ley line jumping, heart attack, dementia, spontaneous combustion and/or implosion, erectile dysfunction… Although you wouldn't have any issue with the latter, would you?" I rattled off the direr side-effects that I could remember from various commercials peddling medication. Ever since the two worlds collided I could lie with impunity and I relished every minute of it. Even if Rachel just wanted to check on the one Rosewood baby that had not finished the treatments, it did not preclude me from having a bit of fun.
"You must be Al." A statement, not a question. I gave a low, mocking bow in acknowledgement, albeit a touch of flair was lost without my old velvet and lace. But judging by the way she broke eye contact to look me over, the effect was no less appealing to her. "Who else could the famous Rachel Morgan get to play fetch for her?" Oh, she would pay for that.
I straightened with all the dignity that 5,000 years of existence can bestow and scowled over the rims of my sunglasses, turning up the glow just a touch. I took the time to straighten my scarf and smooth the lines of my coat. Perhaps I should have gone for something more ostentatious? No, that would not intimidate someone who had stolen the Sword of Light from under the noses of the elven enclave.
If I had known of her fears, and it wasn't highly illegal to rifle through a person's mind, I could have used them against her. Not to look like one frizzy redhead, not after she threatened to turn my family jewels into billiard balls for her table that still reeked of vampire. Really, she had completely overreacted, as she was wont to do. Ray and Lucy had known all along that it was me underneath and had treated it like the game that it was. No, not her. Kalamack on the other hand, was fair game. She had not yet learned to close all of her loopholes at the time. The witch at hand began to fidget in the lengthening silence.
"I was contracted to deliver the goods in one piece. However, it is understood that the packaging may become damaged during transit." I cast her a pointed look while adjusting my leather gloves. Instead of blanching, her jaw set and dark eyes glittered in anger. Pain did not bother her then, which should have been obvious considering the way she raged after being circled. Couldn't say I blamed her, but I had rather not engage in a fight that would have undoubtedly injured her and resulted in significant property damage. My insurance, one of the few who would take on demonic clients, had threatened to cancel my policy after the last incident. Oh, and assault and kidnapping was illegal. I keep forgetting that. Not that she would press charges with her record.
"During your last course of treatment sixteen years ago, you checked yourself out against medical advice, for which the statute of limitations is twenty years. While that may be a mere drop in the bucket compared to your various exploits, should the proper authorities be notified as to your whereabouts, you will land so deep in a hospital that you will not see the sun for years. And once released after having been a cross between a guinea pig and a pincushion, you will be shipped straight off to Alcatraz."
Now that had the desired effect. Blood drained from her face and a barely perceptible shiver ran over her. The sharp musk cut with a spicy tang grew stronger with her rising fear. It was delicious, and I allowed myself a moment to savour the scent. When my nostrils flared, she calmed visibly, struggling to control her emotions. "Now, are you going to be a good little girl if I let you out of time out?" I leered.
"Oh, I'll be good." Sensual lips slowly slid into a sly grin and the light in her stare flared brighter. Wicked promise swelled in her smoky voice, but I was not foolish enough to think that it was anything more than a ploy.
I leaned back, putting my hands in my pockets, and pretended to assess her assets. While I was loath to use the zip strip with its charmed silver core that I was currently fingering, the coarse method might keep her from escaping long enough to talk some sense into her. If that were even possible. I truly missed the days when the laws of reality did not apply to my kind. No, if I could not convince one child to go to the doctor, then I was not deserving of the label "demon."
The shimmering circle dropped when I offered my gloved hand to her. She hesitated before accepting, eyeing my other hand to ensure that it had not crept back into my pocket. Something, not quite fear but not quite excitement either, flickered in the depths of her dark eyes and her soft lips parted but before she could say anything the sound of heavy boots echoed from the alleyway.