Devilishly Sexy (14 page)
Authors: Kathy Love
She hoped she could find him quickly and that she wouldn’t be disappointed in his reaction at seeing her.
Tristan set down his highball glass with more force than necessary, but he was pissed, and the aged scotch he’d just consumed wasn’t helping his irritation.
“I thought for sure Finola would react. That she would banish Liza and Bartoris with her.”
Dippy stopped licking and said, “I thought so too.” He continued licking—in an area that Tristan didn’t like to consider.
He grimaced and poured himself another glass of whiskey.
“Why didn’t she? Why would she show restraint now? Satan knows she never has before.”
“She’s still scared of Satan,” Dippy said. “And she knows Satan will not be pleased to lose the real editor-in-chief of
HOT!
”
HOT!
”
Tristan knew the dog was right. Maybe they had to choose a new person, someone Finola would see as expendable. That always made her more cavalier.
“I say we go back to her personal assistant. That should be easy enough to make happen, and will still get us the reaction from Satan we want.” Dippy stretched a furry leg up in the air and licked more, making a snuffling noise as he did so.
Tristan made another face. “Do you really have to do that now?”
Dippy didn’t respond, or stop.
Tristan took another swig of his liquor. “I still think getting rid of Liza is perfect. It will absolutely tick off Satan, and her departure would leave me in the position to run the magazine as well as the takeover.
“With your help, of course,” Tristan added.
Dippy stopped his self-grooming and regarded him over his still cocked leg. “But maybe we should just go with easy for now. Get Finola gone and proceed from there.”
Tristan nodded, although he didn’t agree. He didn’t think Peaches was the best target. Of course, Dippy was right. It would be easy enough to set up a situation where Finola would lose her temper with Peaches, and bam, the assistant would be gone. Soul cast to Hell, her body an empty shell.
Tristan downed the remainder of his drink. He didn’t like the idea.
“I still say we try for Liza,” he finally said.
“Fine,” Dippy said, “but I don’t think we should wait around too long.”
Tristan nodded. He didn’t want to wait too long. He wanted to be the head demon of this takeover now. But he could wait a little longer, especially if it meant he got everything.
Chapter Fifteen
“Y
ou seem different today,” Gabriel said over the top Yof his draft beer.
ou seem different today,” Gabriel said over the top Yof his draft beer.
Michael frowned, then shrugged. “Well, I’m trying to fit in. I’m trying to learn and accept what the mailroom does. That is different, I guess.”
Gabriel nodded, then took another sip of his beer. But even though he appeared to agree, Michael didn’t get the feeling he really did.
“I guess that’s it, but something else feels different to me.”
Michael shrugged. “Maybe I am a little off. It’s been a crazy couple of days. And I’m still trying to accept all the differences. I’m just going to keep on truckin’, and it will all work out.”
Gabriel made another face that stated he didn’t really buy Michael’s excuse.
“Don’t worry,” Michael said wryly, “just because I’m having an off day doesn’t mean I’ll go get my sword and start hacking my way through the
HOT!
offices.”
HOT!
offices.”
“Well, that’s an improvement anyway,” Gabriel said with a smile, toasting him.
“I’m not so sure,” Simon said, sliding onto the bar stool on the other side of Michael. He took a sip of the beer he’d left there while he’d been playing pool. “Gabe here thinks that DIA has the right idea, but I’m still not convinced.”
Michael gave Simon a curious look. “Really? I thought The Brethren were in agreement about the changes.”
Simon shrugged, taking another large chug of his beer. “I guess I am, if it works. But I don’t totally believe it will.”
Michael glanced at Gabriel, who didn’t look pleased about the turn the conversation was taking, but he didn’t speak.
Michael turned back to Simon. “What don’t you agree with?”
“I don’t know if we can really save everyone. Especially the two most dangerous categories.”
Michael didn’t have to ask who those two were. He knew Simon referred to the demons and the possessed. They had always been and would be the most dangerous. Michael had a hard time believing they could be saved too.
“I so kicked your ass, Simon,” taunted John, another member of The Brethren, as he rejoined the others. He frowned as he sat down. “What’s got all of you looking so damned serious?”
“We’re talking about the DIA—and if they can really make good on all these big promises of saving everyone,” Simon said.
“Ah,” John said as if they often talked about this.
Funny, ever since Michael had returned to The Brethren, Gabriel had made it sound like all the brothers were in agreement with the DIA’s new policies and strategies.
Apparently, they weren’t. At least they didn’t accept the changes as blindly as Gabriel appeared to.
“What about the lost?” Michael asked, moving forward on his stool, keen to hear what the others thought.
Just because he was interested, he told himself. Not because he was interested in anyone in particular.
“That’s the one area where I really do hope they are right,” John said. “The lost are truly the hapless victims of the demon takeover.”
“Even though they willingly agreed to the contracts they signed?” Gabriel asked.
“They were conned,” Simon stated. “It’s not like the phrase ‘silver-tongued devil’ exists for no reason.”
Gabriel made a face that said he couldn’t disagree. “But don’t you think the possessed are equally hapless victims? Maybe more so, because they have no choice. They are simply taken over.”
“Absolutely,” Simon said.
John nodded. “But that doesn’t mean they are going to be savable. We’ve seen over and over what possession does to a person.”
“It makes them crazy,” Simon said matter-of-factly.
Michael nodded too. That was exactly what happened and often worse. Possession made them violent, without morals, often evil themselves. Sometimes exorcism did work, but not always, and less often than the human world would like to believe.
“But we might be able to rescue some of them,” Gabriel said.
“Maybe,” John said, but he sounded doubtful.
Michael was doubtful too.
“Shit,” Simon said suddenly. “I’m not here to talk about the DIA or work. Michael, wanna play a game?” He gestured to the pool tables.
Michael shook his head. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the game. Not when his thoughts were stuck on all this heavy stuff—and other things. Even though he’d repeatedly told himself to let the “other thing” go.
Simon turned to Gabriel, who also shook his head.
“Looks like you get to lose to me again, Simon,” John said, downing the rest of his beer, then standing.
“I don’t think so, Johnny,” Simon said, also polishing off the rest of his beer. He then swaggered away toward the pool tables.
John followed, shaking his head.
“Well, some things never change,” Michael said with a chuckle.
“Not between those two, that’s for sure,” Gabriel agreed.
They both were silent for a moment, each sipping his drink, thinking.
“Elton doesn’t agree that they all can be saved either,” Michael finally said.
Gabriel nodded, staring into his glass of beer. Some kind of beer called a microbrew. Michael was good with his plain old Pabst. He studied his friend, wondering why Gabriel had changed so much. He’d been the most vigilant of The Brethren, fully dedicated to ridding the world of evil. He’d always used his sword first, asked questions later.
Now he seemed so hesitant. So unwilling to do the job he’d been created to do.
“Don’t you have your doubts?” Michael asked.
“I’m not saying what the DIA is planning and working toward is foolproof,” Gabriel finally said, still not looking up from his beer. “But I think if we could save humans rather than just avenge them, that would be a great thing.”
Michael couldn’t argue with that. “But demons still need to die. That is our job, our calling, our purpose for existing.”
Gabriel nodded again, although this time, he looked almost saddened.
They both remained silent. Over at the pool tables, Simon swore as John landed a tricky shot.
“I’m not sure I can totally accept that everyone can be saved,” Michael said. “But I would like to see the soul contracts ended.”
“Me too,” Gabriel agreed.
Michael stared into his own beer, not seeing the pale gold liquid, but a pale face and black hair. He really did want to believe Liza could be saved. She didn’t want him, but he wanted to know she would be fine. Safe.
Michael did not live in the nicest part of the city, Liza thought as she looked up at the dilapidated building. She walked slowly up the steps, looking for some sign of an intercom system, where she could ring his apartment to be let in. But there didn’t seem to be one.
Fortunately, or unfortunately if she were some undesirable trying to get into the building, she only had to wait for a few moments before an ancient old man exited the building, and she entered, slipping inside behind him. The old man didn’t seem to notice, not that she thought he’d care anyway.
She paused in the run-down lobby, which was more like a dingy foyer that housed beaten-up mailboxes and an elevator. She double-checked the envelope. He lived on the third floor. She walked over to the elevator, but then rethought getting on the rickety-looking thing. Instead she opted for the stairs.
The stairwell was dim and dirty and not much more inviting than the elevator, but it appeared to be empty and silent. She decided it was safe enough.
But she didn’t dawdle, hurrying up the steps as quickly as her high heels and pencil skirt would allow. She really wished she’d had time to change before coming here. Especially now that she realized she might have to make a rushed escape from some shifty character—or charging vermin.
She glanced over her shoulder, feeling as if someone might be following her, but then she decided it was the echo of her own shoes on the stairs.
At least she hoped.
She reached the third floor without incident and was again pleased to see, once she pushed open the metal stairwell door, that the hallway was empty.
She stepped out, looking both ways, making a random guess that Michael’s place must be to the right.
Fortunately her guess was correct. Apartment 3B was at the end of the hall. She hesitated only a second, her apprehension about the building overcoming her nervousness about seeing him.
She rapped twice, then waited. She heard no sound from within the apartment. Great, was he out?
She knocked again. Still no hint of anyone being inside. The door on the other end of the hallway opened, however. A beefy man in a dirty undershirt and what Liza thought were boxers, but she really hoped were shorts, leaned out to see who was in the hall.
Just little ole me, she thought nervously, now please go away. But he didn’t. In fact, he stepped farther out to see her better.
She didn’t know what to do. Wave? Smile? She really didn’t want to offend the rather frightening-looking man, but she also didn’t want to encourage any interaction.
So she returned her attention to Michael’s apartment door. She knocked again, trying to appear casual. Please just let him be asleep in there and hear her now. Please.
“He ain’t home.”
Liza jumped, realizing the man had left his apartment and now only stood a few feet away from her. But she quickly tried to conceal her startled reaction, hiding it behind a look of mild aggravation.
“I hate when he’s late,” she said, then looked at her watch, only to wonder if that had been a bad move too. The timepiece wasn’t a Rolex or anything, but it wasn’t cheap either.
“Well, he should be here any minute,” she said, offering the man another exasperated look. She didn’t know if her tactic would work. She felt that being too friendly and smiley might make this man think she was an easy mark.
Acting nonchalant and as if she was focused on Michael’s tardiness seemed like her best strategy.
The man’s bloodshot gaze roamed over her, but she couldn’t decide what he was trying to assess. He took a step closer and she could smell the sour stench of old liquor laced with cigarette smoke.
“You can wait at my place, if you like.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary. Michael should be here any minute.”
Okay, now she knew panic tinged her voice, making her talk a little too fast, and a little too breathy.
“I know it’s not necessary,” he said, seeming to find her response funny, “but it could be nice.”
The man stepped closer again and Liza couldn’t stop herself from backing away. She was definitely not pulling off cool and unaffected, but this man’s nearness was overwhelming.
He smelled awful, and she didn’t like the almost hungry look in his puffy, red eyes. She also didn’t like the fact that despite his lack of hygiene and weight problem, he still looked fit enough to subdue her. She could see muscles under his thick girth. If he wanted to grab her, she would be hard pressed to struggle out of his grasp.
Her heart raced again in that fluttery, breath-stealing way.
Stop, she told herself. Panicking or growing light-headed wasn’t going to help the situation; that was for sure.
“Come have a drink,” the man said, holding out a hand. The skin of his fingers was yellowed from nicotine, and his nails were a little too long and caked with dirt.
More panic rose in Liza’s chest. She tried not to be obvious as she considered an escape route.
The man wiggled his fingers. “Come on, pretty girl. We can have a little fun while you wait.”
He touched her then, his dirty, calloused fingers curling around her thin wrist.
She wanted to scream, but told herself that wouldn’t help in a place like this. Likely no one would even bother to see what the commotion was about, and if they did, they’d probably turn a blind eye anyway. Or worse, want a piece of the action.
Liza told herself to remain calm, but still she couldn’t stop herself from trying to jerk her arm from his grasp. But he held fast, his hold strong.
“You’d better let me go,” she managed to say evenly after a moment. “Because I wouldn’t want to be you when Michael arrives. He’s very possessive.”
The man smiled, revealing that his nail care wasn’t the only thing he’d been slacking on. His teeth were yellowed, too, except for the ones that actually looked brown from decay.
“I bet he can. But I don’t think he’ll be back as soon as you think.”
She didn’t know how he knew that, but the idea that he was right sent a new wave of alarm through her. She had to think of some plan to get away.
But then the man’s grip tightened more, verging on painful. It definitely told Liza this guy was a real threat. He planned to do something with her, and he had a lot more than coming in for a drink in mind.
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