Bound by Light (40 page)

She immediately picked two Sibyls and two officers to assist her, and they headed out the front door.

"Okay," Jake said to the eight officers and two Sibyls still in the center of the hallway. "The rest of us have a little call to pay on our friend Bartholomew August."

"We can’t kill him," Merilee said immediately, though she itched to draw her weapons, charge out of the townhouse, and do just that. "The Mothers don’t know what will happen when he dies. We need to capture him, then figure out a way to contain whatever power he might release when we do put him down."

"Kill, capture, contain—yeah, right." A singed, blistered Nick emerged from the basement stairwell and pulled the door closed behind him. Merilee noted that he didn’t lock it, and wondered if he might be nuts. "How are we even going to get close to him?"

"August is hot and huge in this political race now." Creed’s skeptical voice matched his twin’s as he finished descending the stairs after his apparently successful persuasion of Riana on the staying-home issue. "We’ll have to go through his people’s people’s people unless we’re ready for the press frenzy of declaring him a person of interest, or admitting that he’s essential to our investigation. I’ve been through that circus before. It’s a bitch."

Jake gazed at Merilee, obviously not liking what he was about to remind Creed and Nick of—what he’d have to admit to the officers and Sibyls who hadn’t heard about the note found on Freeman’s body.

"We have a time, a place, and an invitation to get us through the door," Jake said, slowly, as if every word was heavy labor. He sucked a breath through his teeth as he kept right on staring at her, so intently she could feel his eyes like a powerful, protective embrace.

"Or at least one of us does."

(30)

Jake, his brothers, Merilee, and their team, all dressed in civilian clothes, stood in front of a line of orange-shirted Peace Now workers. They were at the center of a long alley at the back door of Martin Jensen’s New Deal–New Day headquarters. Jake’s Glock was holstered but ready, his badge in his pocket, and a pair of elementally locked handcuffs dangling from his belt.

He knew he should keep both hands free, but he had a tight grip on Merilee’s fingers. He didn’t care if touching her was appropriate or not at this point. He didn’t want her here, and he damned sure wasn’t letting go of her until he got her out of this place in one piece.

Her pretty face was tense, and she kept glancing upward.

"The Keres," she said to Jake in response to his questioning expression. "They’ve been bothering me since we left—not surprising since we’re headed straight for the Stone Man, right?"

Jake itched to get hold of the bastard. Forget everything else the psycho had done—Jake was ready for Merilee to be free of her fear, her nightmares. He wanted no more doom hanging over her head.

As she struggled with her fright, she looked so soft in the afternoon sunlight that he wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her away forever, threat or no threat. No matter what, he would
not
let August harm her in any way. Just the thought of August so much as looking at Merilee brought Jake’s demon essence screaming forward, and he had to keep every muscle clenched to hold back his shift.

"Steady," said Nick, who was standing beside Jake’s left shoulder. Creed was on Merilee’s right, and the eight OCU officers and two Sibyls stood behind them.

The line of Peace Now workers continued to hold them back, just as Jake had seen them holding the press at bay at the front entrance. Only at the front entrance, he had caught glimpses of guys in black suits with sleek little headsets coming onto the scene. FBI or Secret Service—or both. Any second now, a few would probably make their way to this entrance, too.

Whatever was going down here, it was big news. Huge news. With major implications for the presidential race. The workers had acknowledged the presence of Jake and Merilee and their party, since they were listed as expected guests. Just as soon as the monumental announcement was completed, the workers promised Merilee that she and her entourage would be admitted and shown to August’s new office.

Jake would have watched it on somebody’s handheld or phone, but with three Sibyls close by, that wasn’t possible. Nothing electronic would get clear reception, especially wireless devices. He was forced to listen to it like the campaign workers had to, on the outdoor speakers fastened to the corner eaves of the headquarters.

"The time is now for unity." August’s oily voice slid all over Jake, setting his teeth on edge. "The time is now for peace. In the face of the unrest and tragedy we have experienced in this city, and with the threat of paranormal terrorism realized, we can no longer afford division and petty competition."

The Peace Now workers seemed to swell with each word, pride shining from their faces like some strange rapture. Jake pulled Merilee a little closer to him, and she didn’t resist. Her expression told Jake that this scene made her skin crawl, too.

"It is in this spirit," droned the voice of August over the outdoor speakers, "that I join my campaign with that of Martin Jensen, a fine man who possesses the vision and foresight to take this nation in a new direction. I humbly request that all my supporters offer him their utmost loyalty and service, and I will work closely with him in the coming weeks as our convention approaches."

"Son of a bitch," Merilee said through her teeth, giving Jake’s fingers a squeeze. "He’s taking a side seat so the attention will stay on Jensen—but he’ll be right there, watching everything, controlling everything."

Nick raised a fist like he wanted to punch something. "With Jensen’s lead in the polls and the way August has come up in the last few days, this makes Jensen a certainty for his party’s nomination."

"He’ll pick August for V.P.," Creed said, "and the bastard will be in the White House with hardly anybody watching him at all."

"He won’t be free that long," Jake muttered, so that only Merilee and his brothers could hear him. "He might not even be alive come November."

Merilee twitched and looked at the sky. "They’re getting louder," she whispered to Jake. She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder in the general direction of the townhouse. "I keep feeling like . . . like maybe this is a mistake. Maybe we should just go look for Andy, or go back home for now."

Creed let out a slow breath. "I know you’re worried about Andy. Hell, she used to be my partner—I’m worried, too. But Cynda and Riana will take care of her until we get back."

"I know." But Merilee’s discomfort was palpable. She looked toward the townhouse, then at the sky, and Jake realized she was shaking.

Fuck,
but it was hard not to change, drift invisibly into that headquarters, and bite off the murdering fucker’s head right on national television.

That would fix everything, wouldn’t it? Assuming August didn’t have some kind of high-tech Legion-designed demon alarm.

Only the gentle sensation of Merilee’s grip kept Jake human—and a cop. Only her presence reminded him that there were things more important than vengeance.

Protection.

Love.

Justice.

He wouldn’t let her down.

For right now, though, they were just going to talk to him. Get close to him, see him face-to-face, and discover what they could learn—and stall for time while the warrants were executed. If they were lucky, they’d rattle the bastard and something valuable would slip out.

As soon as the speech was over, the freckle-faced Peace Now worker closest to Jake broke ranks and gestured to the back door.

"Since you’re expected," Freckle-Face told Merilee, "come right in. Mr. August will see you in a few moments."

Jake would have slugged the guy if Nick hadn’t grabbed his arm.

This time it was Creed who said, "Steady," and Jake thought about punching him instead.

As they stepped inside, he kept Merilee’s hand firmly in his and made sure she walked behind him, between the shield of his body and the fighting skills of Nick and Creed. They threaded down a hallway, past busy, ringing phone banks, offices full of posters and stickers and papers and bustling workers, and a room full of copy machines and printers that would put any business to shame. Jake noted the scent of toner, new carpet, and overheated machinery, mingled with the ever-so-slight stench of sulfur.

August.

He managed not to snarl, but barely.

Merilee tugged against his grip, and when he glanced at her, she was staring at the ceiling. He knew she must be hearing the cries of the Keres, louder than ever. "I’m worried," she said.

"I’ll take care of you," he promised, even as Nick and Creed assured her they’d take care of her, too.

Jake frowned as Freckle-Face led them into a bright, windowed conference room with glass walls and asked them to take a seat at the big round table. This wasn’t like Merilee, to be so unsettled about anything—even a natural demon who could kill them all with a wave of whatever fucked-up power it possessed. Her face had gone totally tense. She was drawn and trembling, and even the other OCU officers and Sibyls looked worried about her.

Jake sat her down as far from the door as he could get her and stood behind her, Nick and Creed once more flanking him.

"Are you okay?" he asked Merilee.

"No, but let’s get on with it, damnit." The edge in her voice wasn’t personal, and it only made Jake’s gut tighten a little more. She was
really
rattled. And he
really
wanted to pulverize the asshole responsible for it.

None of the other officers or Sibyls sat down, either. They all stayed on their feet, barely breathing, hands on their hidden weapons, as a lone figure strode toward the conference room.

Jake jammed his teeth together at his first in-person sighting of the being that had killed his friend. His fingers curled against the back of Merilee’s chair, and a rogue claw punched straight through the black leather.

Creed and Nick didn’t tell him to be steady this time. They were both stock-still, breathing heavily, and glowing slightly around their heads and shoulders.

About six foot six with broad shoulders but a thin build, August looked like a pro basketball player as he approached. Jake could tell the guy was wiry. Deceptively strong. He wouldn’t be a pussy in a fight.

I wonder what his demon form looks like?

I wonder what Freeman saw right before he died?

The image of Freeman’s torn-open ribs flashed through Jake’s mind, along with a memory of the Vodoun Loa he had battled at Fresh Kills. Fresh anger burned through Jake at the images. August didn’t look like he had a monster that size living in his skin, but looks could be deceiving, too, as Jake well knew.

August had dark hair, dark eyes, and slightly tanned skin, and as the man pushed open the conference room door, Jake was struck by how totally . . . normal he looked, height aside. He guessed women would find August handsome, so long as they never looked too deeply into his eyes.

Black ice.

Not much there other than a total lack of conscience and the complete absence of humanity.

There’s the murderer, right there in his eyes.
Jake studied August’s face, taking in the sight of those empty black pits. Another one of his fingers grew a claw that punched through the leather upholstery of Merilee’s chair.
I can see the heartless bastard who killed Freeman right in there.

"Welcome, welcome," August said in that same smooth voice he had just used in his press conference, only this time he was speaking to Merilee, ignoring everyone else in the room.

Jake gripped her chair even tighter, trying not to pull back his lips and let his fangs show.

Merilee shuddered as August spoke to her, but got hold of herself quickly.

"There are no recording devices in this room, and none will work if you turn them on." August kept smiling. Beaming, actually. All for Merilee. "But then you’ve some experience with that, since there are Sibyls amongst you."

No one spoke. Jake and everyone around him simply glared at August.

Jake kept himself as calm as possible with a little mantra, his own form of a prayer, which he offered as he did his best to study August, memorizing every detail of his appearance.

You murdered my friend and you want my woman. I’m going to tear off your head.

August stood across the table from Merilee and rested his hands on the polished wood. "Have no fear. I have no intention of exposing your little secrets. We’ve had enough chaos for now, don’t you think?"

You murdered my friend and you want my woman.
Jake kept his face as free of any expression as he could.
I’m going to tear off your head.

"What do you want?" Merilee asked, her voice absolutely icy.

This surprised Jake. Not in the script. They were supposed to let August do all the talking unless it was absolutely necessary to speak to him. Creed and Nick both shifted beside him, as if they expected Jake to control Merilee’s mouth, and two of the OCU officers grumbled to themselves.