bedeviled & beyond 02 - bedeviled & bedazzled (31 page)

“What is it, Astra?” Emo asked.

I turned a haunted gaze to him. “I know who the fallen angel is. I’ve talked to him already.”

Dialle stood, “You must tell me who it is, Astra.

My head jerked around so I could glare at him. “And do what, Dialle? You don’t have enough power in the entire court to deal with this particular angel.”

Emo wiped his palms on his slacks, his face slightly green. He’d put the pieces together and knew who I was talking about. “Your father will never believe you.”

“I know. Shit!” Scrubbing my hands over my face in frustration, I looked from one to the other of them and frowned. “I don’t know how we’re going to best Enoch. Or whether I’ll even be able to try, given my feelings for him.”

Emo stared at me, the pain in his eyes mirroring my own. He’d grown up with Enoch too and I could only assume that the feeling of betrayal ran as deep in him as it did in me. “You realize you’ll have to take him up on his offer, Astra?”

Despair twisted my stomach in knots. Expelling a frustrated breath, I nodded. I sat silently for a few beats, thinking. I didn’t have many options. And the few options I had kept circling back to the same thing. I couldn’t defeat Enoch by myself. I couldn’t join my father without alerting my mother to his false support of her. That left me with the final and least palatable option.

“I need to work with Enoch if I’m going to help my father. Our best hope is to distract him and let my father do his job.”

Dialle finally spoke up. “I agree.”

Emo and I shared a glance filled with regret. Shaking my head, I said what he was no doubt thinking. “I just pray Seraphim James won’t let friendship blind him to the truth.”

~SC~

Arriving in my office the next morning I found an urgent message from a client asking me to call her. I dropped my coat in the chair beside the door and dropped wearily into my chair. Cradling my head in my hands, I tried to dredge up the energy to return the client’s call. She’d sounded angry. After a few minutes I lifted my head and tapped the woman’s name into my information unit. Her record popped up immediately. Mx. Samantha Beck had come to me because her daughter had been hanging out with a demon she’d met at one of the downtown clubs. Mx. Beck, the mother, had wanted me to vanquish the demon and, after careful questioning, I’d determined that his behavior met the world government’s strict guidelines for execution. I’d told her I’d vanquish the target by the end of the week. Since that deadline was still a few days away I wasn’t sure what she was angry about. I did a mental shrug and decided there was only one way to find out.

“Return last call.” The televisual kicked in with a high pitched bleep. Within a couple of seconds a woman’s angry face swam into view. “Hello, Mx. Beck...”

“Mx. Phelps. I called to tell you that I will not be paying for your services. What you did was unconscionable. My daughter is in such a state of horrified shock I’ve had to make her an appointment with a therapist to help her cope. I never would have guessed you could be so incompetent, your references were very good...”

“Mx. Beck, hold on a minute. Please tell me what you’re talking about. I told you I would vanquish the target in a few days. I haven’t even done the paperwork on him yet.”

The woman’s voice climbed a few octaves. “Is that your idea of a joke, Mx. Phelps? My daughter had to throw away all of the clothes she was wearing because they were covered in demon gore. She thought she loved that thing and she watched him explode into bits and pieces!”

I shook my head, totally confused. “Someone blasted the target demon already?”

The woman’s face darkened in disbelief. “Yes, Mx. Phelps, someone did blast the demon while he was standing about a foot away from my daughter and that someone was you.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Not impossible, Mx. Phelps. A horrible fact. My daughter’s friend had her portable televisual with her and she got it on film.”

I stared at the woman on the screen, totally baffled. There was no point arguing with her since it was obvious she wouldn’t believe anything I said. “Mx. Beck can you send me that tape?”

My request caught her off guard but she finally agreed after telling me that they’d made copies, as if I were going to destroy the evidence.

A moment later I heard the bleep that told me the video file had arrived. I sat forward in my chair and punched the
Play
button.

The screen burst into light and sound as a pretty young woman emerged from a popular club on the arm of an extremely good-looking young man. The camera had captured the demon’s mask rather than his true form.

The light faded as they walked away from the building’s facade and started down the street arm in arm. A voice hailed them and the pretty young woman turned to smile at someone off camera.

The picture bounced as if the person holding the televisual was jogging toward the couple.

As the camera bearer approached, young Mx. Beck held a hand out in front of her face and then swiped it toward the camera. “Turn that thing off, Brittany. You’ve been driving me crazy with it all night.”

The young female voice behind the camera giggled. “No way, I want to get you two on film. You make such a cute couple.”

Mx. Beck turned to the demon on her arm and grinned, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. “I’m sorry I bought her that thing now.”

The demon laughed good-naturedly and turned to the camera. For the merest beat in time something evil glinted in the creature’s eyes and he licked his well-shaped lips. I saw it and I suspect the girl behind the camera saw it too because the picture bobbled for a moment before refocusing onto a smiling Mx. Beck.

“Brittany really...”

There was a shout and the camera swiveled as if the girl behind it had been surprised. Then the camera refocused on the demon, who was taking a step backward with his hands up as if to ward off whatever he saw beyond the camera’s range.

Suddenly a power stream came out of the darkness and the demon shrieked in horror and pain. He exploded like a melon under laser fire, spewing gore over everything within ten feet of the attack.

The camera lurched, bouncing a few times before settling against the littered sidewalk. The screen showed a torn sheet of paper and a discarded piece of cloth on the ground, both coated in green goo. The sound of running mixed with Mx. Beck’s constant shrieking to create a chaotic background to the strange frame.

Amid the pounding of retreating footsteps, a steady footfall approached the camera rather than running away from it. Then soft, black leather boots came into view and something covered the camera lens. The screen bobbed around as it was picked up off the ground.

It wavered and spun and then settled on a very familiar face with a wide grin.

My face. My grin.

The face that looked like mine was joined by a couple of fingers as the person who looked like me wiggled a two fingered greeting at the camera.

Then the image stopped as the camera was presumably shut down.

“Holy bent gargoyle toes!”

I watched the video several more times before I was able to get my mind around what I’d seen.

What the hell?

It wasn’t enough that my life was already hell? That the creatures who I thought were good beyond all doubt were most probably bad beyond my wildest imaginings and the creatures who I thought were bad were probably my best hope for saving the world? That my parents were both up to their eyebrows in trouble and calamity and my best friends were all compromised?

Now somebody was impersonating me and killing my targets?

Could my life get any more complicated? The culmination of the last several days sucked me down into an emotional muck that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to escape.

It felt like the time I’d been tracking an Orgick across the Mars waste and I’d inadvertently stepped into a slog hole and couldn’t pull my leg back out. The slog had sucked and melded and generally locked onto my leg until the only way I could get loose was to shimmy my beautiful leather boot off and leave it in the slog hole. That had just sucked.

Pardon the pun.

I rested my head on the back of my chair. “What the hell else could go wrong?”

As if on cue Myra popped into my office. She didn’t look much happier than Mx. Beck, da momma.

“Astra, would you care to explain why you blasted a demon into pieces right in front of a young human female last night?”

“Hello! You know where I was last night.”

Myra opened her mouth to argue and then realized it would have been nearly impossible for me to have done what everybody seemed to think I’d done to that demon. “What are you telling me? The young woman’s guardian identified you.”

“That wasn’t me.” I turned to the televisual. “Play Beck video.”

Myra watched without expression as I played the video several more times. Then I looked at her and said. “Did you see it?”

She nodded. “It’s a pretty good attempt though. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t watched it several times and really focused.”

What we’d both seen in the video was that the imposter’s mask had slipped for just the merest blip in time. It wouldn’t have been noticeable unless you could really study it. But it had been there.

Myra dropped her shapely butt on the corner of my desk and crossed, long, shapely legs under her shimmery robes. “We certainly don’t need this type of thing right now, Astra.”

Her tone of voice was mild for her and I chose not to take the slightly accusatory tone personally. I nodded and peered up at her.

“I’ve been thinking about that, angel and I think that’s exactly the point.”

She frowned. “
What’s
the point?”

“Don’t you see? Somebody’s afraid I’ll muck up the works on the power grab. If I’m busy defending myself and trying to save my business I’m less likely to get in the way.”

“Makes a certain twisted kind of sense.”

I extended a finger and tapped myself on the forehead, “From a twisted kind of mind.” Then I realized what I’d said and frowned. “Wait, scratch that.”

Myra laughed. The sound was shocking because I so rarely heard it. “No, I think you got it right the first time.”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

“So who do you think is responsible?”

I stood and walked over to the large window behind my desk. The street below was full of people and vehicles. The air was thick with air transportation. A cold wind drove debris into the huddled forms of the walkers and rammed it into the nooks and crannies of vehicles. The sky was leaden gray, promising rain.

Standing there in front of that window a clarifying memory dropped into place.

“I’m pretty sure it was the Devil’s Glenn coven.”

“Why?”

“This wasn’t done by a demon. Demons can only utilize their own masks, they can’t mimic someone else. The Royals would have nothing to gain by keeping me off balance. So it was probably a witch. How does a witch mimic another person’s appearance?”

Myra shrugged. “Black magic.”

I nodded, “Using a biological piece of the person you’re imitating right?”

She nodded.

“Mx. Coltran filched a strand of my hair when she was here. She pretended her bracelet had snagged it but now I know she was harvesting it for the imitation spell.”

Myra’s gowns rustled behind me as she uncrossed her legs. What would the coven have to gain by this?”

I shrugged. “Raoul thinks they want to take over the Angel City Coven. If that’s true maybe they’re trying to weaken the coven by creating chaos. Maybe they think my mother will care if I have trouble and that will distract her.” I snorted in a very unladylike way. “Which proves they know nothing. Or maybe Raoul’s wrong and they’re working
with
the Angel City Coven instead of against them, to create turmoil between the demons and the royals.”

I turned away from the window to find Myra frowning thoughtfully. She glanced up. “Which means that both covens are working under the assumption that they have help in powerful places.”

My eyebrows went north. “They do have help. Powerful help. They shouldn’t be capable of half the stuff they’ve been doing.”

And I was just dying to tell her who their help probably was. But I knew the time wasn’t quite right.

~SC~

As soon as Myra left I made myself a cup of strong black coffee to give me strength. Settling the cup onto my desk, I pulled the cross I always wore from under my sweater where I kept it for protection. The cross was almost three inches high and ornate. It was centuries old and filled with its own special kind of magic. Specifically, it could be used to call members of the celestial army. It had other, more practical uses too but I rarely needed its special kind of power for anything except communicating with Myra.
Or my father
, I thought with a smile.

I sat staring at the cross for a few minutes, dreading what I needed to do. But I couldn’t think of another way so I finally placed the cross over my heart, closed my eyes in a quick prayer for guidance and said his name.

Enoch exploded into the room in a blast of light and sound. His entrance was a far cry from the gentle pop Myra generally used when she visited. I knew he was being flamboyant and trying to prove something to me. It didn’t make me like what I was about to do any better.

He stood just inside the door to my office with a smug smile on his face and his large hands folded in front of him. “I see you’ve decided to see reason.”

I bristled. “I can still change my mind.”

He shrugged and floated across to the window behind me, looking down at the human type chaos below with a soft smile on his lips.

I swiveled to keep an eye on him. The feeling of not being able to trust an old family friend was like wearing a favorite dress that the cleaner had accidentally ruined trying to remove demon brains. The dress no longer quite fit and rubbed me raw in strategic spots but I was still emotionally attached to it. I couldn’t wait to take it off but knew I’d feel naked without it.

“But you
won’t
change your mind. You inherited your father’s sense of duty and desire to do the right thing.” Enoch turned away from the window. “It’s a particularly human trait that has caused him no end of trouble over the centuries.”