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Trouble with the Cursed
by
Kim Harrison
Chapter one
It wasn’t even ten yet, and the cicadas were already screaming in the hot, muggy air. Uncomfortable, I fidgeted, my sandals scraping the time-warped porch boards as I impatiently waited for Pike to pick the lock of the dilapidated Victorian he’d tagged as an unregistered blood house. It was stifling under the overhang and scraggly street trees. My camisole and shorts seemed woefully inappropriate to be kicking vampire ass in, but Pike had promised it was a five-minute thing. In, out, iced coffee and Band-Aids before noon.
Traffic was a distant hum, the bars and restaurants a comfortable two blocks away. It was a perfect location for a blood house where consenting vamps could finish out their evening or, more often, where others could hide from unwanted attention. Working on all levels, blood houses gave the highly charged, highly dangerous vampires a secure place to indulge and find refuge—often at the same time.
The age-old dichotomy didn’t make sense until you saw it in action, but vamps, both living and dead, had an unfailing need to protect the distressed even as they endangered those they professed to love. When it went bad, the abuse went bone-deep, fueled by the trust these houses engendered. Why it was up to me, a witch-born demon, to ferret out and “gently” correct the problem was a long story with a short motive. I didn’t like bullies.
Tired, I tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. The humidity was breaking through my anti-curl charm and the red mass was frizzing right out of my braid. “I thought you had a key,” I muttered, and Pike, crouched at the lock, softly swore.
“Yeah. Me too.” Pike’s low, intent voice pulled an unexpected pulse of libido from me, and I shifted to put more space between us in the hopes he wouldn’t notice. It was the pheromones he was unconsciously kicking out, not a real attraction. It didn’t help that Pike wasn’t your usual living vampire, his unerring, classic beauty still showing under a disturbing number of scars. There was a hint of gray in his short-cut hair, evidence of his early-thirties maturity. His light shirt and slacks were cut for ease of movement, his languid grace held a definite pull, and when his eyes went black? Da-a-amn.
But it was Pike’s confidence that elevated him beyond the usual living vampire, and I was secure enough in my relationship with Trent to admit that he was . . . well . . . mmmm. Most vamps were confident on the outside, but Pike was truly comfortable in his skin. It set him apart, as did his numerous scars, most of which had been gained from his brothers trying to kill him as opposed to bedroom fun. Working under my protection was safer than him being on his own, but that’s not why he had agreed to do it.
In contrast, my few scars were recent, almost hidden behind what passed as a tan for me. I missed my old ones—scars, that is—the ones that had real meaning. My almost-dormant vampire bite hidden under the curse-virgin skin tended to drive the undead wild, something that wasn’t actually advantageous in my line of work.
“I got up early for this,” I grumbled, tucking my sunglasses into my bag before gingerly sitting on the edge of the dusty porch chair. The residential street wasn’t busy, and my eyes narrowed as I tracked the passing car, frowning as the black Crown Victoria parked at the curb.
Doyle.
Pike glanced up, his incredible senses attuned to my sudden unease. Doyle worked for Inderland Security, an I.S. detective now if I remembered right. That the living vampire was watching us break into an unregistered, and therefore illegal, blood house didn’t bode well.
“So . . . did you ask me to help this morning because Doyle is following you?” I said.
Frowning, Pike returned to picking the lock. “He’s not following me. He’s watching the house. Same as I am.” Pike’s weight shifted as he tried a new angle. “He’s probably waiting for us to do the hard part, then swing in and take credit for it. The I.S. wants this place shut down as much as we do.”
True. I stood, hands on my hips as I stared provocatively at Doyle. Vampires were weird contrasts. The undead ones did ugly things thinking it was love, the living ones endured ugly things thinking it was love, but they both had a protective streak a mile wide. True, it was a little warped in the long undead, but no one liked underage predation, and that’s why we were here.
Unlike the I.S., I didn’t need three days on a missing person’s report before I opened up a can of ass-kickery. So when Kip, Pike’s number one, had failed to report in after tracking three missing teens here, Pike had called me. I didn’t know the small woman well, but Pike both trusted and relied on her.
“You think Doyle will give us trouble?” I said as Doyle grinned, showing me his short but sharp canines as he took a picture of us. “We have probable cause.”
“No.” Pike frowned. His eyes lost their rim of brown as his pupils dilated, and the delicious scent of vampire incense rose in the stifling air, reminding me of when I had been younger and stupid. Still smells good, though, I thought, a pheromone-induced quiver of angst and desire rising before I stifled it. Sensing it, a knowing smile quirked Pike’s his thin lips. I liked working with Pike, which made resisting his vampiric charms often a challenge. I loved Trent, but finding someone to kick ass with was difficult, and Ivy had been stuck in DC for months.
“Maybe I should have brought Jenks,” I muttered, and his smile vanished. But truth be told, I didn’t need my usual backup for this. It was part rescue, part reminder to a few uppity vamps that the law was there for the living and dead. Still, I was beginning to regret telling Jenks to stay home. Standing outside a door this long looked unprofessional.
“You need some grease?” I said as I checked my phone for the time.
“I’ve got this.” Frustrated, Pike angled the pick another way.
“I can check to see if there’s a back door,” I offered, wanting an iced coffee.
“There’s no back door,” he said flatly. “Will you shut up so I can concentrate?”
Well, excu-u-u-uuse me. I stood, going to the dirty window to put a hand to my face to peer in at the front room. Jenks could have been in and out by now, verifying the floor plan that Ivy would have dug up online somewhere. But this was Pike’s run, not mine. I was here to help. If we ever got in. Frustrated, I checked my phone again, attention returning to Doyle as I tucked it in my pocket. Damn it, he was laughing. “Maybe Doyle has a key,” I said sourly.
Pike exhaled heavily. “Yes. Why don’t you go and ask Doyle if he has a key.”
Ooh, sarcasm! I’d had enough, and as the cicadas sang in an irritating whine, I strengthened my grip on the nearest ley line and mulled over which “find” spell would work best. Nearly all worked on auras, and the undead didn’t have much of one unless they had just fed—and then it wasn’t even theirs. Most finding charms didn’t work well underground, either, which was where this was going to end up. I knew it. Many of Cincinnati’s original homes had sub-basement floors, and this was one of Cincy’s older “ladies.”
The ley line slipped into me like sunshine, warm and tingling to my toes. I let the unfocused energy pool up in my chi, then spindled a wad of it in my thoughts before I let the energy find a path back into the ground and make me part of a circuit. “Invenio ,” I whispered, feeling the energy take direction and the charm invoke. With the force of creation running through me, I opened my second sight.
Distorted as if by flame, the image of an open field in the ever-after wavered into existence, overlaying reality in a disjointed double vision. The front room became indistinct, almost like colored chalk lines. I wasn’t exactly seeing through walls, but they didn’t exist in the ever-after, and the effect was the same. Pike’s aura was obvious beside me, but nothing else. The upstairs was clear as well. If Kip or the kids she was trying to find were here, they were downstairs.
“We’re clear aboveground,” I said as I let my second sight drop—and the image of an open field vanished and reality returned. I held on to the line, though, letting it continue to run through me like a second sun. “Excuse me,” I said as I picked up the porch chair. Gut tight, I slammed it into the big front window. Glass shattered inward in a satisfying feeling of give, and then the chair rolled across the faded, crushed carpet to thump into the wall. Smirking, I reached in to unlock the door from the inside.
Pike slowly got to his feet, his dark eyes going from the broken window to me. “You are no fun when you’re in a hurry, you know that?”
“I have things to do today.” My gaze went to the black Crown Victoria, my brow high in challenge. “Maybe Doyle will get off his bear-claw-fat ass and either help or arrest us now.”
But the vampire didn’t move, watching us as he talked to someone on his phone. A faint but insistent tingling in my fingers became stronger. It had been growing since the chair smashed the window. Charmed? I wondered as I made a fist to drive away the uncomfortable sensation. It would explain why Pike had been trying to finagle the lock.
“Dual electronic- and magic-based alarms,” Pike said as he dabbed the sweat off his forehead with a patterned, silk handkerchief. “They know we’re here.”
My attention flicked to the camera tucked under the porch overhang. They’d known the instant our feet had hit the worn floorboards. His “lock picking” had been a psychological ploy. As had been me smashing in the front window.
“At least we know it won’t be ringing at the I.S.” I turned to Doyle. “Hey!” I shouted, and his phone conversation hesitated. “You coming?”
Smirking, Doyle ended his call and settled back, pretending to sleep.
“My tax dollars at work.” Pike ran a hand over his short, styled hair, smoothing it.
“Just as long as they don’t cite me for destruction of private property and illegal entry and revoke my runner’s license.” It was the one thing I paid on time every year, ensuring I stayed a certified, independent runner. I’d been one now for over four years, one of a handful in Cincinnati, and certainly the most well-known. With that, probable cause, and a filed complaint, I had a reason to be here—though the busted window might be questionable.
“There’s usually a door downstairs in the kitchen.” His mood suddenly closed, Pike ghosted past me into the house.
I followed, my steps short to avoid the glass. Immediately I stepped to the side, pausing to get a feel for the place. I didn’t like that there’d been a magical alarm, and even less that I’d tripped it. Jenks would have warned me.
Pike’s shoes were silent as he vanished into what was obviously the kitchen with its faded linoleum floor and bland yellow cupboards. It was air-conditioned cool in here, but I left the door open for Doyle, scanning the faded wallpaper and scratched floorboards. What little furniture there was, was old and mismatched, giving it the look of Early American College Student. There were no obvious cameras, but I knew we were being watched. Feeling sassy, I pulled my splat gun and checked the hopper in a show of defiance. The cherry-red, Glock-size, air-powered paintball gun was my go-to, but instead of paint, mine shot sleepy-time potions.
Oh, I had plenty of spells at my fingertips, but some whiny baby always claimed they were dark magic, which meant paperwork proving they weren’t and possibly a visit before a judge for a show-and-tell. Besides, the potion-based spells in my gun were easy to break with salt water. Even the human-run Federal Inderland Bureau, or FIB, knew how. My spoken, ley line–based charms were harder to undo, and I was anything but accommodating. Yeah. Right.
My head came up at the sliding thump from the kitchen. “You good, Pike?”
“Yeah . . .” he said, voice strained, and I started over, my sandals clinking against the broken glass.
Nose wrinkled against the faint smell of vampire, I halted in the open archway. Everything in the kitchen, apart from Pike, was old and small—clean, though, as if just wiped down. The only window was shut and too small to easily wiggle out of. “Do you think they left?” I asked, as Pike tapped the floor and walls of the broom closet.
“Perhaps.” Pike paused, listening for an echo. “Kip tracked the vamp who’d been seen talking to the teens here. Either they caught her and she’s being held, or she simply needs help getting them out. Either way, Kip wouldn’t leave them. Not even to make a call.” Frowning at the closet, Pike exhaled. “Hence me asking for help.”
Head down, he put his shoulder against the fridge and pushed it from the wall to study the strip of grimy linoleum he uncovered. No door. I wasn’t going to feel guilty for ogling his muscular shoulders as they bunched and moved in the effort. “Besides, Doyle is out there,” he said, as he easily moved the oversize fridge back in a hiccuping sound of plastic and linoleum.
“Bedroom closet?” I offered. “They know we’re here, but they will ignore us unless we find the way down.”
“Bedroom closet,” he agreed. His pace slipping into an eerie, overly fast glide, Pike went for the bedrooms. Again I followed, my steps crunching on the broken glass.
Doyle was still at the curb when I glanced out the broken window, making me wonder if we might have stumbled on one of Constance’s kickback money makers that the I.S. would just as soon ignore. But even the I.S. had to admit that me taking Cincinnati over from Constance was already showing benefits. The streets had been pleasantly quiet the last few months, like a held breath as you look across the room to someone you love or hate. Cincinnati’s vampires were waiting—not to see if I had the chops to keep them in line, but if I would make good on my promise of a spell that would allow them to keep their souls when they died their first death.
Unfortunately the complex curse was currently stuck in FSCA hell. Apparently the Federal Spell and Charm Administration wasn’t yet convinced undead vampires having access to their original soul was a good idea. Neither were the long undead in DC. And so we waited.
“Good God,” Pike said, balking at the door of the overdone, black and pink bedroom with bleeding hearts, lightning bolts, and heartthrob posters, but I strode in, sure this was where the stairs had to be, at the heart of badass girldom. We only had to find it.
At his nod, I tossed my bag to the overdone bed and stood eight feet back before the closed closet door, my feet spread for balance and splat gun pointed. His eyes shifting to a pupil-wide blackness, Pike flicked the closet door open with a vampire quickness. I tensed, but it was only a standard, empty four-by-six. Slowly my braced arm drooped.
“Thump it,” I said, and he made a fist, smacking it into the walls and stomping on the floor until an echoing boom rose. His scarred, broken-nosed, tanned face turned to me in a smile, and I stifled a desire-born shudder at his small but very sharp canines.
“Fire in the hole,” I mouthed, and he lurched out of the way.
“Corrumpo!” I exclaimed, funneling the ley line energy running through me out my fingertips. The curse-harnessed power left me with a delicious, inside-out feeling, the gold and red ball of magic slamming into the wall with an attention-getting boom!
I ducked, invoking a protection circle as the wallboard exploded out to send dust and chunks of wall everywhere. The haze flowed up and over me with only the faintest scent of plaster, and Pike waved his hand, squinting as he tried to see what we’d found.
But all we’d done was expose the metallic fire door behind it.
“That’s not the main door, it’s an escape hatch,” I said, and he nodded, squinting as he ran a finger lumpy from past breaks over the inlaid control panel blinking a faint green. Again I wished for Jenks, making me wonder if I had gotten soft, or if I had ever been capable on my own. I relied on the skills of others too much . . . maybe.
“We should have brought Jenks,” Pike said, and I spun, intuition and a soft shoe scrape turning me to the five really big men suddenly staring at us from the door. They were clearly living vampires, dressed in jeans and logo-emblazoned tees. Their fangs were small but sharp, and their eyes were pupil black. Each one was a marvel of muscle, each one built for hurt.
“Found ’em,” Pike said as he dropped back and undid his belt. It pulled from the loops with an ominous hissing sound, running through me like ice.
“Gentlemen?” I offered as they filed in, each one barely making it through the door without having to step sideways.
“We’ve had some complaints,” Pike said, half the belt now wrapped around his knuckles, the tail hanging like a makeshift whip. “You should have returned my calls.”
But they said nothing, arraying themselves between us and the door. The window had bars on it. No wonder Doyle didn’t come in. . . .
“Okay. We can do this one of two ways,” I said as I leveled my splat gun. “One—”
They moved, liquidly fast.
I gasped, arm rising instinctively to ward off a blow. It struck with a shocking pain, startling me alive. Three went for Pike, and then I saw little else as I retreated, arm numb as I struggled to evade another hit. “Son of a pup!” I exclaimed as I brought my splat pistol to bear, but the two coming for me were too close. They’d simply dodged it.
Crap on toast, I miss Jenks. He never would have let me get cornered. My splat balls broke against the wall, useless. The potion only acted on bare skin, and I shot six more, making a nice dripping cluster but not hitting anyone.
I winced at the dull snap of a bone and low bellow, emboldened when two of Pike’s guys rolled across the floor, tumbling into the wall, where they shook their heads and tried to get up.
Black eyes found mine, and then they came at me again. “Off!” I shouted when thick arms encircled me, and then I gasped when the air was suddenly squished from my lungs.
His teeth were way too close. I fought him, my splat gun hitting the floor as I kicked out at the second man, using the one holding me as leverage. The first wouldn’t let go, but he’d eased his grip when my feet thumped into the second, and I got a breath of air as he stumbled from me.
“This is Rachel Morgan?” the vamp holding me said as his buddy got up and touched his lip to find it bleeding. “The demon subrosa? She’s smaller than I thought she’d be.”
“And you,” I panted as I readied a massive amount of ley line energy, “are dumber than evolution allows. Let go!”
Twisting, I jabbed my elbow and stomped on his foot—just for fun—and when his weight shifted, my feet planted themselves solidly and I twisted his arm, sending him over my crouched back to slam into the wall and my still-dripping smears of potion.
The man let out a yelp of surprise, and then the spell soaked through his shirt. As Pike howled exuberantly and snapped more bones, my attacker collapsed, out cold. Chest hurting, I limped to get my splat gun.
I never made it, yelping as the other guy dragged me away. I was caught from behind in a bear hug again. Crap on toast, how many times does a girl have to say no?
“You want some help?” Pike said, and I grimaced, blowing the hair out of my face as the guy lifted me up, squeezing the breath out of me again. Pike had his three men cornered and bleeding, cautious now that they had bones breaking the skin, their blood making the floor slick. They had to be hopped up on something as they gathered themselves and rushed him together. Pike moved in a blur, belt smacking bare skin to make them jump and his knuckles doing damage. He spun like a dancer, sending them crashing into the walls before turning to me.
“I got this,” I gasped, then funneled the ley line into the man holding me.
The vampire screamed in shock. My crushed ribs rebounded. Gasping, I flailed my arms as I found myself hurling through the air until I hit the floor with a pained grunt.
“Ow . . .” I whispered, arm throbbing. The man I’d just jolted was hunched, staring at me as if I had broken a rule. There was no rule here, and I stood, pulling more ley line energy into me until my hands glowed and the tips of my hair began to float.
“You. Settle down!” I shouted. “What’s the code for downstairs?”
His black eyes suddenly wide in fear, he launched himself at me again. He was more afraid of his master than us. I can fix that. . . .
I dove for my splat gun, arm warming with a floor burn as I grabbed it, spinning to plug him dead in the face.
He howled and pawed at his eyes . . . and then he fell on me, out cold.
His weight hit me hard, pinning me. Damn it all to the Turn and back! I thought, struggling to push him off. One of Pike’s guys tripped over him and fell, and I downed him, too, before wiggling out and standing up.
“Put ’em down!” I shouted, my good mood spoiled. “I’m not here so you can play!”
Pike grinned at me from across the broken room. He was hunched and in pain, but clearly getting the better of the last two facing him. I’d once seen him flat out kill five assassins in as many minutes, but it was hot, and I had things to do. “I lost my gym membership last week,” he said, attacking with his belt before grabbing the vanity’s chair and brandishing it like a lion tamer. We had three of the five down, and if they hadn’t sent anyone else up, they probably didn’t have anyone.
My phone, I realized, was humming, and as Pike gleefully snapped his belt and busted the frilly chair over the arm of one of his attackers, I dropped back to glance at it.
Ivy! I thought in pleasure, wanting to take the call. “Do your cardio on your own time,” I said, gathering myself to wrap this up fast. My phone hummed again as I pulled on the line and focused on first one, then the other. “Stabils! Stabils!” I exclaimed, shuddering at the twin bursts of line energy flowing through me as it hit first one, then the other. Hodin claimed there was a way for the curse to act on them at the same time, but I hadn’t found the knack.
“Hey!” Pike exclaimed as they fell in turn, the one still in Pike’s grip almost dragging him down. “How am I supposed to beat the door code out of them when they’re out cold?”
“They can still talk. Beat away,” I said as the two vampires began swearing. One was facedown on the floor, the other now staring at the ceiling with his leg awkwardly pinned under him.
Rubbing my bruised ribs, I hit accept and Ivy’s low voice rose in greeting.
Immediately I felt my body relax. “Hey, Ivy. How you doing?” I said as Pike stood domineeringly over the two downed men. My breath was fast, and I flexed my sore arm, glad it wasn’t broken.
“Good,” she said, her voice like living dust, silky and gray. “You sound busy. Is this a bad time?”
I glanced at Pike manhandling the thugs upright, none too gentle as he slammed their heads into the walls to get them to pay attention. “No, you’re good. I’m helping Pike with some underage predation. He’s done playing.” My voice rose. “Right?” I said loudly, and Pike made a “maybe” gesture.
“Door code!” he shouted, and the two spat empty threats.
“I can call back,” Ivy said. “But it won’t take long if you have a sec.”
Sore, I rested my butt on the windowsill and reclined against the bars, careful to stay out of the sleepy-time potion. The room was in shambles, and I nudged the torn canopy off the airduct in the hopes of some cool air. There were pillow feathers everywhere, looking like falling snow as they settled. “What’s up? Everything okay with you and Nina?”
Pike smacked one of the vampires hard enough to split his lip. “Where’s Kip?” he demanded, eyes black. “Little thing. Short blond hair. Likes the color red.”
“Never saw her.” The vampire sneered. “Go bleed yourself.”
“We’re fine,” Ivy said. “She’s wreaking havoc with the old undead, but it’s a good thing. I’m going to be in Cincy tomorrow night. I’m hoping more than a visit, but that depends on what the master vampire I’m escorting thinks.”
She was coming home? But my elation hesitated. “Master vampire?” I asked.
I could almost see her wince, her pale, oval face scrunching. “The DC undead know that Constance isn’t running Cincy,” she said, and I slumped. Pike’s gaze rose, finding mine as he hesitated in his interrogations. “They think she’s twice dead and that you are responsible for it.”
“Imagine that,” I muttered. The distasteful, psychotic, narcissistic vampire was alive. She was a mouse, but she was alive, kept in a very nice cage in Piscary’s old quarters where the light couldn’t reach her. “Would it help if Hodin put in an appearance as her again?”
I wasn’t exactly thrilled about asking him. The first time I’d had to give him six months rent free in the church in exchange for ten minutes of his time. He’d been an okay roomie, but I didn’t like the vibe I was getting between him and my other roommate Stef. I was already counting the days until our deal was up and he was gone. Al might talk to me again, too. . . .
“Probably not,” Ivy said. “This guy knows her. An old undead named Finnis. He’s the reason for half her hang-ups, and he’ll know if it’s not her. Rachel, if you can’t produce Constance, they’ll assume she’s twice dead and press charges. Body or no.”
I ran a hand over my snarled hair and sighed, startled when I found a pillow feather. “I don’t know what their problem is,” I said, ogling Pike’s shoulders as he resumed harassing the vampires. “Pike and I are maintaining order just fine.”
“Maybe that’s it,” Ivy said, and Pike began a rhythmic punching, his fist thumping into one, then the other in a cringeworthy assault set to his hummed tune of “Frog Went A-Courting.” Weird. “They’re not happy you can do the job. It makes them look bad and opens the door for other powers to oversee their own people.”
My head bobbed in understanding. Pike was probably making progress, but it was hard to tell. Until he managed to best the pheromones turning their pain into pleasure, they wouldn’t care how much he beat them.
“Hey, tell Pike to threaten to break a fang,” Ivy said suddenly, clearly overhearing Pike. “That usually brings good results when they are hopped up on Brimstone and pheromones.”
I glanced at Pike, and as he straightened with a shrug of shoulders, I stretched for the broken chair leg, tossing it to land in his grip with a solid thump.
Without hesitation, Pike jabbed it into the largest man’s face. The vampire howled, blood gushing as the other stared in horror. Pike had done the unthinkable by damaging the one thing his undead master valued above all else.
“Ooh, Pike,” I said, cringing as the blood flowed.
“I said, threaten, not do,” Ivy said, clearly guessing what had happened by the sudden burbling babble rising from both vampires.
“Three kids. Downstairs,” the intact vampire said, his voice loud and panicked. “One chaperone and two clients. The code is 55512.”
Eyebrows high, Pike pulled the torn canopy off the four-poster bed in a sound of ripping fabric. Motions rough, he wiped the vampire’s face and let the bloodied rag drop to his lap. My shoulders eased. The thug’s fang was still intact. It was the right front tooth that Pike had knocked out. I might have felt sorry for him, but there were three kids downstairs, three kids who were the tip of an ugly iceberg. He deserved far worse, and once he hit prison, he’d get it.
“Thanks, Ivy,” I said. “I’ll call you tonight after I talk with everyone.”
“Sounds good,” she said, and my head rose at a tinkling of broken glass from the front room. “I’ll let you go. I wanted you to hear it from me, not Edden or the I.S. Love you.”
The never-before-spoken words shocked through me, followed by a warm understanding. Ivy was deeply committed to Nina, but there was all kinds of love, and we’d been through a lot. “Love you, too,” I said, glad I could say the words as well, and the phone clicked off. I did love Ivy, not the way she had wanted, but we both understood each other and were happy with our relationship now.
I knew Pike had heard us over their continued babbling, but that was okay. He’d never met Ivy, but I was sure he knew our history. Hell, everyone in Cincy knew our history.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I said as I tossed Pike my splat gun to do the honors. “You should have gone with option number one.”
His lips quirked in an ugly smile, Pike shot them both and tossed my gun back to me. Motions fast, he all but danced through the broken room, his eyes black as he entered the code. The door lock thumped as it released, and a wave of warm, incense-heavy air flowed up and out.
Suddenly, my mood crashed. The scent was betrayal and violence made real, and it struck me to my core, bringing uncomfortable memories of being trapped underground with an undead. They were soulless, their power born in our need to see them as they were, not as they are. Dead.
Pike took a deep breath, almost shuddering as the undead pheromones hit him. The young wouldn’t have the ability to say no. Hell, I wasn’t sure Pike could, or even wanted to, because even though there was nothing but lies down there, the pleasure was still real.
“Hey, uh, you mind if I stay here to keep your way open?” I said, and Pike nodded, his expression grim.
“Stay,” Pike said, voice husky, and in a dark flash of movement, he was gone.
Silence echoed up, and then a scream and thump. “Pike! You good?” I shouted down the black stair. Please be okay. Please be okay. Don’t make me go down that hole. . . .
“Just a sec!” his voice echoed faintly, then, “Kip! Focus! Where are the kids?”
Relieved, I inched away as more swearing, more screaming rose up. None of it was Pike’s, and I tightened my grip on both my gun and the ley line at the sudden thumping on the stairs. The steps were fast, and light, and I lifted my hands high in reassurance when three kids boiled up from the darkness, their eyes wide and vacant as they slid to a frightened halt and took their first untainted breath for what might have been days. They were still in their school uniforms, and I had a hope that they were in the same condition as when their parents had last seen them.
“You’re safe,” I said, trying to smile as I lowered my gun and shifted to stand between them and the door. Wild horses, skittish and scared. “Hang tight until Pike and Kip come up. We’ve got a car, and we’ll get you home.”
They were young, well into their teens, clean limbed and soft. Fifteen, maybe. I didn’t dare touch them lest I spook them into running, and as they gathered in a frightened huddle by the bed, my anger grew at whoever had tried to steal their youth. They were living vampires and therefore doomed to a life that wasn’t their own choosing. But to take what little chance they had to fight it . . . That was unforgivable.
“Please. No. He’ll kill me!” came a high-pitched, terrified voice from the stairwell, and then Pike shoved a tall woman up into the light before him, propelling the well-dressed brunette across the blood-slicked floor and into the broken bedframe. “I want I.S. custody. I need a safe house!” she babbled, clinging to the bed as if it might save her.
“I’ll get you a safe house,” Pike growled, and the woman cowered as he stood over her. She held her arm close. One of her heels was missing and her bare foot was starting to swell.
“I don’t know who those kids are!” she shrieked, then dissolved into a sobbing babble.
“Where’s Kip?” I said, and his angry frown quirked into a grin to tell me the small woman was okay.
“Following two undead.” Leaning, he looked down the stairway. “There’s a secondary tunnel. If she can identify them—”
“She can’t best the undead!” I interrupted. “Hell, I can hardly best the undead!”
“Nice you know your limits,” came a low voice from the door, and I spun, my rising splat gun falling. It was Doyle. His focus was on the kids, and I could tell he was as angry as we were.
Seeing him, the woman at the bed made a sudden dive for freedom, shrieking as Doyle snagged her with an impossibly fast hand. Slamming her face-first into the wall, he held her there as he shouted the Miranda and Pike zip-stripped her hands behind her back. They released her together, and she fell into a despondent, sobbing pile of expensive linen and silk.
Annoyed, I dragged my purse from the bed and slung it over my shoulder before Doyle claimed it was evidence and took it. “Nice of you to show up,” I muttered, and his neck went red.
Yes, we had our differences, but they seemed to vanish when he turned to the kids, his badge and low, calming voice making a comforting presence as he tried to verify their names.
“They’ve been spelled,” Pike said softly as one of the girls took a breath, confusion clouding her when she realized she couldn’t remember who she was.
“That’s okay.” Doyle reached for his phone. “We know who you are. Your parents have been looking for you,” he added, and the three collectively seemed to relax as the whoop of a siren came from the front. The I.S. had finally arrived in force—now that it was over.
Doyle was right. They’d be okay, but their next twenty-four hours would be hell as they were poked and prodded. I could try to take the befuddlement charm off, but they were relatively calm right now, and I wasn’t up to dealing with three hysterical teenagers.
None of this would make the evening news, not because they were minors, but because it might scare the humans. Sometimes, I thought the only reason we got along was because the mundanes didn’t know the truth—how dangerous we were and that it was only law-enforced tradition that kept them safe. And we did keep them safe.
Radio chatter filtered in from the front living room, and, feeling the pinch of past misunderstandings between me and the I.S., I leaned against a dented, blood-splattered wall, fighting to keep my arms from rising up about my middle. A uniformed woman came in for the kids, and Doyle began cuffing the downed men with a wad of zip strips, being careful to stay out of the still-dripping potion. “This was our run,” I said, seeing even the street cred for this vanishing, and Pike sighed.
“You owe me, Morgan.” Doyle turned his sharp-canine smile to me. “I lost my job because of you.”
“Detective is a promotion,” I said, but he clearly hated having no one to boss around.
“I take them in,” he said, trying to get all dark and angsty, but it was hard at ten in the morning in the sweltering heat. “Or I take you and Pike in for trespassing, assault, and perhaps underage predation. Walk away, Morgan. It’s easier that way.”
“Got this all figured out, eh?” I said, my gaze going to the officer ready to back him up standing in the doorway. A flash of anger rose and fell. Doyle taking credit for my work was not the message I wanted to portray. Pike and I were keeping the vampires in line. Not the I.S.
Pike leaned close. “Let it go, witch,” he muttered. “This is not necessarily a bad thing.”
Sullen, I nodded, still not liking it. The subrosa was a hidden position. Anonymous. Like the Mob or Batman. Pike didn’t seem to care, but I wasn’t about to have this become a pattern.
There were people in the front room now, and the kids drew together at the new faces peeking in. I could see the headlines tomorrow, and my name was nowhere in them. Not getting credit for it was one thing, Doyle taking it from me was another. “Is there anything else we can do for you, Detective? Maybe wipe your ass?” I said sourly, and Doyle snickered.
“Nope. We’re good.” He smiled at the kids and gestured for the officer to escort them out. She was a witch or warlock, judging by the charms around her neck, far easier for the kids to handle after their ordeal. Their one-time chaperone sobbed as she was dragged out behind them. She might not have touched them, but she was complicit in their betrayal and would be charged the same.
“Not even a thank-you,” I muttered as three more uniforms came in, the living vampires discussing the unconscious thugs before calling for an agent with ley line skills to de-spell them.
Pike sidled next to me, his eyes on the self-centered man. “Don’t take too long,” he said, chin lifting to indicate Doyle. “I’ll be in the car. I want to show you a couple of logos I worked up over that iced coffee I promised you.”
“Logos, right,” I said, and Pike sauntered out, limping and covered in blood, clearly pleased to be able to pound people into submission and then walk out between the cops with impunity. My car was a block down, and a sudden urge to talk to Trent made me itchy. Ivy was coming, dragging trouble along with her. But I had one thing to do, first.
“Doyle?” I said sweetly, and he put up a finger for me to wait as he gave someone instruction. Jaw tight, I stood, weight on one foot, arms over my middle. Burning.
Finally the last of the men were dragged out, the witches in uniform glancing nervously at me as they discussed how to break the magic keeping them unmoving. The sleepy-time potions they could handle, but the spoken curses were out of their league. They knew I’d cast them, but since Doyle was going to take the credit, they couldn’t ask. “I have no idea,” I heard faintly, and in a moment of sympathy, I tweaked the spoken curses, and they broke.
“Doyle,” I called again, seeing as he had conveniently forgotten me and was following the last of the officers out.
“What do you want?” he said caustically, and I pivoted, slamming my foot into his chin.
He hit the wall with a thump, his sudden outcry bringing an officer to the door. The man took one look at Doyle on the floor, then fled.
“Morgan, what the hell!” Doyle sputtered, and I sauntered closer, tossing the torn coverlet to him to clean up his face before I extended a hand to help him up.
“You’re welcome,” I said dryly, giving a heave, and the man lurched to his feet.
“You’re going to rot for that,” he said, face red as he hunched in a pupil-black-eyed frustration, but he didn’t dare make a move against me. Not when I was pissed. Not when I had a ley line burning through me, itching for direction. It was just him, and me, and whispers from the front room. I could smell the old blood on him, the danger, but after living with Ivy, I could tell he was small potatoes. And now, he knew I knew.
“Rot? Maybe someday, but not because of you,” I said softly, and he knocked my hand away before I could smooth his shirt. “If you don’t have a little blood on you, your bosses will know all you did was sit in the car. I’m the demon subrosa, and I will not have my I.S. mole under suspicion of misconduct because he took credit when credit was clearly not due. Now you look like you did something. You’re welcome.”
Doyle sputtered, his pupil-black eyes showing an increasing rim of brown as he glanced at the front room. “Your I.S. contact?”
Beaming, I rocked back a step. “Isn’t that what you’re doing? Covering my ass? Keeping my actions secret?” Sighing, I checked my phone. “Good of you to anticipate my needs, but call first next time. Now if you will excuse me, Ivy is coming in tomorrow with a representative from DC. If you want in on this, I’ll be at the church in an hour for a meeting with my team to discuss how to deal with it. Hope to see you there.”
“What the fuck,” he whispered, as I strode out, not sure if he would show or not.
Keeping Cincinnati’s paranormals in line was not an easy task. Despite the massive offices of the FIB and I.S. doing the day-to-day, I was where the buck stopped and no I.S. flunky was going to jeopardize that. Taking control from Constance had cost too much to let it slide. I needed him, or someone like him, in the I.S. Badly.
I just hope he never figured it out.
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