Chapter 7
That evening,Dove sat on the floor of her bedroom, just inside the open door, her butt already numb. What she wouldn’t give to be with Armond, drinking a daiquiri on a tropical island. No, instead, she was here, stalking a demon. She’d definitely drawn the short straw on this one.
Many times, she’d replayed the conversation she’d had with Steele. Conclusion? Her benefactor was a manipulative jerk. Still, the softer side of her recognized he really did need her help. Which was kind of empowering now that she’d had a chance to think about it. The great Marcus Steele needed her help. Hers. Because, apparently, no one else was up to the task. So even though she didn’t appreciate his methods, here she was, stalking a demon. Not that she had a choice.
Of course, the domineering vampire insisted she start immediately. Like, immediately, immediately. She couldn’t exorcise his demon until she knew more about it, so she’d planned to do some bookwork, research type of stuff, boring, safe, time-consuming stuff. Stuff that may take weeks they didn’t have. Marcus hated this plan. Instead, he demanded she try to communicate with the creature to save time. The same creature who’d snarled and chucked a sofa table at her.
Already, she dreaded Marcus’s reaction when she failed to help him. And she would. Fail. After all, she was a pacifist, a gentle guide to lost souls. Not a spirit warrior. At the first hint of danger, her instinct was all flight, no fight. Yet, here she was, playing priest to his Linda Blair.
She rubbed her sweaty palms on her bare knees, reviewing the ridiculous plan that may very well see her maimed and traumatized. Marcus was in bed, putting his demon behind the wheel. Check. In her brain were several specific questions Marcus had hammered into her skull. Check. Her magical warding was strong enough to prevent the unknown entity from tossing her like an overpriced knickknack. Checkity check.
She groaned and shifted her butt cheeks on the hardwood. How long did it take for a spirit to take control of a host’s body, anyway? Marcus had gone to bed ages ago. Her professors had probably covered this in one of her many classes at Havenwood. One of the many classes she’d either slept through or used to practice her doodling.
Since she’d flunked out of Spiritual Possession 101, she was going with her gut. Soft candlelight illuminated her bedroom. Bright, but not too bright for her shadow-loving visitor. Her favorite Zen station played a soothing melody in the background. Marcus said loud noises provoked the spirit. Dove wanted it roused but not moved to violence as he was the other night. Hopefully, some fairy chimes and Tibetan Bowl music would mellow the beast. Bright colors were also a no-go, so she wore a smokey-lavender shift trimmed in lace—thank you, Celeste—instead of her tie-dye pajama pants.
Whether it would work was yet to be seen. At least the tranquil setting helped to settle her nerves. It wasn’t every day she set a trap for a malevolent spirit. The hours she’d spent worrying about this plan had left her exhausted.
What would the vampire lord look like, anyway? Once the spirit took control, he’d be Steele, but not Steele. Would he hide his face? The creature who’d hurled furniture at her didn’t strike her as the gentle type. More violent and murdery. Hopefully, he wasn’t too terrifying. After all, it was still Steele. Sort of.
A wide yawn worked its way up her throat, and she set it free, stretching her arms. Her eyelids drooped, and her vision blurred. Must stay awake. Stay awake. Stay. Stay…
Dove woke with her face smooshed against the floor. Drool wet her cheek, and she swiped her palm over her mouth. Alarm zinged through her veins. She shoved herself upright. Dang it, she’d fallen asleep during her very first stakeout. Marcus had given her one job. One job, and here she was, drooling on the hardwood like a champ.
She’d tried to tell him she wasn’t the right necromancer for this assignment. Seriously, he’d made it sound as though his entire life depended on her. Her stomach churned at the thought. If that was the case, the vampire was doomed.
Soft shuffling noises distracted her from her thoughts. She rubbed her gritty eyes and stared into the darkness beyond her room. Shadows shifted and her heart quickened. She sat straighter, struggling to focus. Was it here? Her eyes strained to pick up any signs of movement, and she held her breath. Goose bumps prickled her arms, and her glyph tingled, a sure sign she was no longer alone. She shivered. The creature was here alright. Here and watching her from the darkness.
Time to put those improv classes to work. “Oh well, seems my demon spirit is a no show. Guess I’ll just go to bed.” She added a loud yawn before gathering her legs beneath her to stand.
Shadows whooshed, and a massive figure exploded against her warded doorway. Panic ripped a scream from her throat, and she tumbled back. On shaky limbs, she crab-walked, eyeing the shimmering wall of energy protecting her threshold.
Another explosion startled a squeak from her. Again, the warding held. She stared at the glowing doorway, eyes wide, mouth gaping. Goddess save her. It was trying to break through. She inched forward and grabbed the edge of the door, prepared to shove it closed. Not that the heavy door would keep such a powerful creature out if the warding failed.
Silence descended.
When no further attacks followed, she exhaled a breath. Her defenses had been tested and held. At least within her room, she was safe. Again, when she saw Celeste, she was giving her a big smooch.
She rolled up to her knees, inching as close to the threshold as she dared. “Hello?” She frowned. It’s not like she didn’t know it was there after it tried to bash in her mystical barrier. “My name is Dove. I just want to talk to you.”
More silence.
“Are you hurt? It wasn’t my intention to harm you.”
Nada.
“Look, I know you’re there, so you may as well talk to me.”
Crickets.
Could they speak? She hoped so, or this would be a really short interrogation. Maybe they only knew the one word—stay. She shivered at the memory. “Do you have a name? What do you call yourself?”
Zilch.
She huffed a frustrated sigh. It would be nice to sleep at some point tonight. “Well, never mind. I’m going to bed.” Once more, she gathered her legs under her to stand, only this time, it wasn’t an act.
“Stay,” came the snarly response that had her butt hitting the ground again.
Okay, play it cool, Dove. Play it cool.“Tell me your name, and I’ll stay.”
Her breath hitched as she waited for the spirit’s reaction.
“No name,” they answered in a deep growl. The timbre of his voice, part Steele, part other.
Awesome. They were up to three words now. Either it didn’t have a name or didn’t want to give it to her. After all, there were some cultures that believed there was power in knowing someone’s name. Regardless, she couldn’t keep calling it shadow monster. “How about I give you one?”
Seconds ticked past. “Yesss,” they answered, hissing the word as though it had a forked tongue.
Great. How did one name a faceless entity? She bit her lip. “How about Frank?” Her favorite piano teacher’s name.
They snorted a disgusted sound.
“No, huh? How about Shadow?”
This he seemed to ponder a moment, falling silent. Was he warming to the idea?
“Or Smokey. I had a pet rabbit once. His fur was black and—”
“Not a pet,” they snarled.
Glass broke, and she scrambled back, shrieking when something struck her shoulder. Certain she was under attack, she spun and faced… the dressing table. “Stupid table leg,” she cursed, scuttling beneath the makeshift shelter. While she’d already proven the creature couldn’t get past her ward, the effect of its fury was still scary as heck.
By degrees, her racing heartbeat slowed, and she huffed a breath. She clutched her arms around her knees, peering into the darkness.
“Hell-hello?” she called out, voice shaking. “Are you still there?”
“Ssstay,” he hissed.
Yep. Still there. Her shoulders sank. No, wait. This was good. Scaring it off would mean she’d failed her first mission. Perhaps she should say something to make sure they didn’t take off. Smooth things over.
“Sorry about the name thing. No disrespect intended. In fact, I hold the incorporeal in the highest esteem.” More or less. Okay, not really. She found her connection to the spirit realm rather tiresome at times. Like now. “Shadow is a nice name. Can I call you Shadow?”
Nada.
She’d take the lack of violence as acceptance.
Dang it. If she wanted to see Vivian again, she needed to get her act together. When she reported back to Steele, it would take more than a bunch of broken furniture and a handful of words to satisfy him. Since the interrogation wasn’t off to a great start, perhaps it was time to change tactics. “Can you come closer? I promise the ward won’t harm you if you don’t touch it.” Or ram it like a bug smacking a windshield.
“You. Closer,” Shadow-Steele growled.
“Me?” She straightened, cracked her head into the dressing table, and pressed her palm to her aching scalp.
“Yesss.”
Figures he’d want her out in the open where he had a clean shot at her again. She eyed her ridiculous shelter. The ward was the only protection she needed. Hiding was pointless.
“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “I’ll come out if you come out.” Show you mine if you show me yours. Har. Har.
Silence stretched before they finally answered, their gravelly tone taunting. “You. Firssst.”
Goose bumps crept down her arms at his creepy response. This was starting to feel like a game of truth or dare, only the stakes were higher. Lucky for her, she was the reigning champion, hence the abundance of beads she’d earned at Mardi Gras. “Fine. I’ll return to the doorway if you do the same. Agreed?”
“Yesss.”
“Alright, here I come.” She crawled out from her shelter on her hands and knees. Uncertain if her wobbly legs would support her, she scooched her way across the fluffy white rug. Two feet shy of the ward, she stopped, sitting back on her calves.
“Okay, I’m here. Your turn.” Her heart pounded at the realization she was about to see the full extent of Marcus’s possession. The demon inside of him was about to reveal himself in all his demonic glory. Be cool, Dove. Be cool. You’ve got this. No matter what, she would not freak out. Not like she did at Vivian’s groundbreaking ceremony with those damned zombie hellhounds.
Across the darkened living room, shadows moved and shifted. From their smokey depths, an inky figure took shape. It separated from the wispy grays, solidifying.
Closer. That shape became a rounded head and massive shoulders. Could it be he was bigger in this form?
Closer. His body became more defined. Unlike his host, Shadow had forgone his concealing hood. His chest was bare, black pajama pants encasing his legs. Each prowling step of his bare feet was silent.
Closer. Dim lighting illuminated the rise and fall of his pectorals. Hard muscle carved what was clearly a predator’s body. Shadow-Steele was a granite sculpture, chiseled by a frenzied artist’s heavy hand.
At the edge of the ward, he glared down at her, and she’d never felt so small. She swallowed and stared up at him. In the center of his chest was a strange glowing emblem. On the left side of his body, the one with the most damage, his skin appeared charred and fractured. Between the craggy fissures, his flesh glowed. The damage extended beneath his silken pants, up his thick pectoral, and down his arm to his hand. Next, it swelled upward, following the path the flames must have taken up his neck, to his jaw before blending into his hairline.
She met his eyes. Both were fully black, the dark eclipsing the light. The pupil in the left glowed red. With the same curious regard, he stared back at her. Her nose twitched with his masculine scent, a mix of burnt leaves and cloves.
“Hi,” she whispered, forcing the word past her shriveled vocal cords.
He ignored her greeting, studying her with the same intensity she had him, his fathomless eyes taking her measure. Once done, the side of his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed. She got the distinct impression she’d disappointed him somehow.
“Why?” Shadow growled.
Dove swallowed. “Why what?”
“Why you?” he sneered.
She repeated, “Why me?”
“Why choose you?”
Again, she sensed he was disappointed.
Her spine straightened. It was one thing for her to doubt herself. Another for a demonic entity to do the same.
“Why him?” She waved, indicating Marcus’s massive frame. Ha, she’d turn the tables on the beast.
Shadow frowned at her. “No choice.”
Dove frowned back. “Why? Were you forced into this situation? Where are you from anyway? Does your species have a name?”
“No.” Shadow held up his hand, silencing her.
“No?”
“No.”
Gah!She’d had a deeper conversation with a spirit who’d died choking on a champagne cork. “But I have a zillion questions for you. Surely, you have the same for me. This could be an opportunity for us to learn from one another.”
“No.”
“No?”
“One.”
“You’ll answer one question?”
“He sleepsss. One question.”
Ah. He was trying to manipulate her into letting him rise. Tricksy demon. “Fine. I’ll talk to Marcus, see what I can do.”
“Yesss.”
Goddess save her. At this rate, it would take months to get the information she needed. Every day the demon delayed them was one day Marcus didn’t have.
He stepped back as though to leave, and she panicked. “Hey, wait!”
Shadow paused, glancing at her.
“Stay?” she asked, using his favorite word.
He turned to face her, and she scrambled for a way to keep him there. Stimulating conversation was out. When he shifted to turn away again, she blurted, “Want to play a game?”
His dark brow arched. “What isss game?”
Her lips quirked. Who was the wily one now? “I’ll show you. Hold on a minute.” She shot to her feet, rummaged through her bag, and returned with a deck of cards. The more she engaged the demon, the greater the chance he’d reveal something about himself, regardless of his one-question deal.
“Sit.” She coaxed with a flattening of her hands. Warily, the creature lowered himself into a crouch.
Close enough. “The name of this game is five-card stud.” Vivian had been an ace poker player in her day and taught Dove everything she knew. At least, in this, Dove had the advantage.
She shuffled, dealt his hand, then gave the cards a shove, shooting them over the ward without crossing it herself. Shadow picked up his cards, eyeing them as though they were an anomaly. Next, he pressed one to his nose and sniffed. Apparently, they didn’t have cards where he was from. While this tidbit of intel was totally useless, at least it was free.
Let the games begin.
Marcus glaredat his Chosen from beneath his cowl. For the first time since his accident, he was tempted to go without the hood so he could properly snarl at the chit. Surely, he’d misheard the confession she’d mumbled around a mouthful of food.
At his low growl, Ida hustled out of the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll just tidy up your office.” Dove’s champion disappeared in a flash, square heels clicking, moving faster than Marcus knew the elderly anculus was capable.
Morning sunlight blazed through the windows, and he winced, narrowing his burning eyes. One of the sunbeams struck Dove’s far-from-angelic head, lighting her hair with a golden glow. She perched on a stool at the island, still in her nightgown and robe.
While he stared daggers at her, she nibbled a piece of toast slathered with something nauseatingly green. Bean sprouts stuck out of the goop like fungus. And mortals found the vampires eating habits disgusting.
“You agreed to what?” he snapped at his oblivious Chosen.
“I negotiated a deal,” she repeated in the same offhanded tone as she had before. “Thanks to me, your unwelcome tenant agreed to answer one question per appearance.” She sucked avocado off her finger with plump lips. He studied the act, for a moment distracted from his rage. But only for a moment.
“It will take far more to obtain what we need. You’ve tied our hands at a time when we cannot afford any delay.”
“It’s all in your perspective,” she dared to argue. “Without the arrangement, he could have refused to answer anything. This way he’s locked in.”
While she had a point, he still didn’t like her making decisions without his approval. “It isn’t your place to negotiate with the creature. You overstepped yourself. And you’ve yet to explain these.” He slammed a handful of gaudy plastic beads down on the kitchen island.
He’d awakened in his bed. Naked. Draped in Mardi Gras trinkets. An experience he’d not had until now. Part of him was relieved he didn’t wake up covered in blood. Again.
When Dove eyed the beads with a secretive smile, the grip he held on his temper slipped. He grabbed the colorful strands and threw them across the room. “Explain,” he roared.
“Jeez, okay, okay.” She winced, hunching her shoulders. “I taught your demon poker, and we played for beads. It was all very innocent, I swear.” She picked at her sprouts, gaze downcast. “Well, at least until we ran out of beads and switched to strip poker. He lost, by the way, only having one item to pony up.”
Her eyes rounded, and her cheeks glowed. “Boy, you can imagine my surprise. I mean, how was I to know you were commando under those pajama pants?”
Since his accident, none but his uncle’s scientist had seen him so exposed. That Dove would see him this way twisted his innards. “You taught it. To play. Strip poker?” he bit out.
“Well, yes. After he agreed to only answer one question, how else was I supposed to engage him? Would you rather I’d sung ‘Yankee Doodle’ while tap dancing?”
Gods save him. His hands curled, aching to wrap around her slender neck. Instead, he took a step back, exhaling through his nose. “Tell me you learned something with your ridiculous antics.”
She straightened, growing defensive. “I learned a great deal, thank you very much. For instance, I learned it wasn’t his choice to possess you, which leads me to believe there was a third party involved.”
Marcus rubbed his chin, his ire dwindling. Perhaps she did discover something of use. “I suspected as much.” There’s a chance Helen was that third party since she was responsible for his death. “Go on.”
“At one point, he grew angry and snuffed out all the candles in my room, though physically he didn’t cross the ward. With that kind of power, what we’re dealing with isn’t some run-of-the-mill spirit or the essence of a random dead dude. It’s a supernatural entity, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.”
“All the more reason to exorcise it quickly instead of playing games.” With so many responsibilities on his shoulders, he’d never had time for frivolities, not even in his youth. “What I need is to be free of the creature.”
“Look.” She huffed an exasperated sigh. “You are the demon. The demon is you. Technically, I cut a deal with you. It was either nail him down for one question or have zero answered.”
Her flippant explanation stoked an inferno at his core. Along with an unfamiliar burn of jealousy he didn’t care to analyze. His flesh pulled tight and he bared his fangs, closing the space between them. “The demon is not me,” he snarled. “I am not the demon. Better you keep that straight lest you end up a pile of splinters and broken glass.” Dove was his Chosen. No other creature had a claim to her but him.
At last, he seemed to get through to her. She swallowed and paled, shrinking on her stool.
Careful to hold himself in check, he pressed his advantage while he had her full attention. “I mean it, Dove. Do not lower your guard near the bastard. You have no idea what it is capable of.” Images of his slaughtered security guards flashed in his mind.
Shoulders hunched, not meeting his eyes, she drew an “X” shape over her heart. “I promise I’ll be careful when dealing with Shadow.”
“Shadow?” He loomed over her, control threatening to slip through his fingers.
“Yes, Shadow,” she whispered.
“You named it?”
“Well. Yes.”
Veins pounded in his forehead. “You do understand it isn’t a pet but a bloodthirsty killer who would sooner rip out your spine than take treats from your hand?”
She squirmed. “Um… funny you should mention the pet thing. See, I had this rabbit—”
“Unbelievable.” He spun away from her, stalking to the refrigerator and back. The little idiot had named the demon who threated to destroy his very existence. It wasn’t even the kind of name that struck terror into hearts. No. She’d named it Shadow. He was dealing with a tree-hugging, daisy-sniffing, sprout-eating lunatic. It didn’t matter what Ida thought of her. The girl was totally out of touch with reality.
Lights flickered over his head. Shadows lengthened. Heat rose from his center. “Our female named me. Honored me. Claimed me. This is reality,” growled the unwanted voice from the back of his mind.
Marcus clenched his jaw. Honored him? What the hell did that mean? Not that it mattered. He had bigger problems on his plate. Helen, for one, and his plans to find her, capture her, torture her, clear his name, then end her. He reinforced his mental walls, pushing the voice down. Each day, it became harder to keep the bastard silent.
Once more, thanks to his Chosen, he found himself backed into a corner. Drew a deep breath. Unclenched his fists. When he was calmer, back in control, he said, “Because of the deal you made, you’ll need to remain at my side, traveling with me. Each night that I sleep, you will interact with the demon, learning as much as you can from him.”
Her forest green eyes sparked with curiosity. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she locked in on the shiny, distracting part that interested her. “Travel with you where?”
It was no use. Why fight it? He heaved an exasperated sigh. “To Adara Island.”
She perked up, straightening on her stool. “You mean that exclusive resort said to resemble Atlantis? Oh my gosh. That would be amazing.” She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Armond will be so jealous. Not even Vivian was able to get us into that place.”
“That’s because Xavier Delgado collects guests like he collects trophies. He seeks to add the most unattainable to his guest list. Apparently, I am one of those things. He sent me an invitation to a party he’s hosting. In the past, I’ve declined since I find the male pompous and irritating. However, he claims to have information about my former CFO, Helen. My sources say she was there with her lover the weekend before the assassination attempt.
Dove’s enthusiasm waned. “I take it Helen is the one who tried to end you at the grand opening of your casino.”
“Helen not only plotted to kill me, she framed me as a Zion conspirator. Since she planted the bomb, she may also hold the key to ridding me of my demon.”
“You believe she’s the third party. The one responsible for your possession.”
“It’s possible.”
“So that’s why you’re trying to find her.” Fire burned in her eyes, outrage darkening her complexion. “To exonerate yourself and get rid of your demon.”
Finally. She understood, or so he hoped. With Dove, he was learning to expect the unexpected.
Which was why he felt it necessary to warn her. “This isn’t a vacation. While we’re there, you’ll need to communicate with the demon.” He refused to call it Shadow. “Only this time, I will give you a carefully crafted question you will relay without embellishment. You will not ask the demon its favorite color, nor what sign it was born under. Perhaps with more guidance, you’ll discover something useful.”
She stared down her nose at him. “Actually, there is quite a bit you can learn about a soul if you’d simply open yourself to the experience. For instance, I am a Pisces—”
“Don’t care,” he growled, cutting her off.
She frowned, affronted. “Fine. Except, how is that going to work? Me interrogating your demon at some swanky resort? You can’t very well turn Shadow loose in a public space. In your private penthouse is one thing. Here, you’re locked inside, surrounded by your staff. You’ll be much harder to contain at Adara.”
He folded his arms, satisfaction curling his lips. “Not my problem.”
She blanched. “What do you mean, not your problem?”
“You created this situation. As my contractually obligated necromancer, containing the creature is your job.”
“You can’t be serious. People don’t put me in charge of things. Ask Vivian and Armond. I’m the most irresponsible person I know. Surely, you don’t intend to make me responsible for a malevolent demon.”
“You’ll coordinate with Bishop.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel so much better.” She huffed then straightened, a conniving gleam in her eyes. “Fine then. If I’m going with you on this trip, I’ll need an assistant.”
Apprehension coursed through him. “It’s vital no one learns of my situation.”
She shrugged. “Bishop can vet her. Seems to me he’s pretty good at running background checks. Also, you’ll be happy to hear that you own the building where she both lives and does business.”
That did give him leverage. Still…
At his hesitation, she added, “Like you said, time is of the essence. Having help would fast-forward our progress.”
“Fine. I’ll let Bishop know.” He eyed her pajamas and bare feet. “You’ll need an appropriate wardrobe. I’ll contact one of my associates and have them prepare something suitable for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’re headed to a tropical paradise. All I’ll need is a bikini and a toothbrush.”
Given their host was an incubus, he doubted she’d even need that much. The thought of another male seeing his Chosen bare stirred something violent inside of him. Over his dead body would Xavier see her naked. These possessive urges were likely due to the bond between them. Nothing more. Still, he couldn’t have her embarrassing him. “As an honored Chosen of a House lord, you will dress the part. Appearances must be maintained, which is why my associate will handle your wardrobe.”
In response, she hopped off her stool and walked away, hips swaying in a hypnotic fashion. Over her shoulder, she offered him a coy smile. “Your loss, Steele.”
He frowned, staring at her shapely ass. His loss indeed.