Chapter 2
Chapter two
She’d drank too much. The world swam slightly when Dominic shoved her outside into the night.
“You want to arrest me? Fine. But I have nothing more to say.”
“You might want to rethink that story,” he muttered in her ear.
She jerked at the tickle of his breath on her skin. He was still too close as he walked her down the steps toward his car. She stumbled off the curb, and he caught her, his heat burning into her.
Mira tried to shrug, and discovered it nearly impossible with her hands stuck in handcuffs at the small of her back. “Feel free to waste your own time. Just keep your end of the deal.”
“I already told you. The body will be gone by sunrise. I called the only man who could make it happen. A little more gratitude should be in order.”
“I’m surprised you couldn’t pull it off.” She tried to look at him over her shoulder, but stopped when her vision spun. “I figured a Council toy soldier would have more clout.”
“I’m an agent, not a fucking magician.”
“What… hey.” She jumped when he pulled her phone from her jacket. “You already took my gun. I can’t even keep my phone?”
In three smooth movements, he detached the phone’s battery pack and slid both pieces into his pocket. “I believe I was the only one tracking you, but we can’t count on that for much longer. Not at the rate you’re going.”
“Do I get it back?”
“Sure, when we’re done talking,” he told her, before stuffing her into the back seat of his car. “When I know everything you know.”
“Along with my gun?”
Dominic huffed incredulously, and slammed the door shut.
She glanced out the car window, catching a final glimpse of Phoebe standing within the store, gaping in horror.
Mira looked away, letting weary resignation settle over her. This was what she knew how to do. What she did best. She’d always attracted trouble like a magnet. Now, it was time to draw more trouble away from Phoebe’s orderly, innocent world.
Soon, Nikhiv would be gone, too. That was also for the best. He was more trouble than Phoebe could handle. More dangerous.
But losing him might still break her.
Mira settled awkwardly against the back seat as Dominic drove away. She grimaced when he turned the corner, her stomach churning.
It’d been a long time since she’d taken a ride in handcuffs. But this wasn’t a police cruiser. Dominic wasn’t even a cop. He was just a ridiculously meddlesome Council agent, with an uncanny ability to keep tabs on her.
“You ready to tell me why you shot a demon?”
She dealt him a withering glare before turning back toward the window.
“Where’s the other demon, Mira?”
The city streaked by her window, the city lights blurring together with the headlights of passing cars. “I already told you. He ran away.”
“And left half his blood behind? Based on what’s spilled on you, he must have been leaking like a faucet.”
Mira flinched. She didn’t want to think about her sticky, bloody hands, or the metallic smell of blood clinging to her jacket.
The way Nikhiv’s blood had welled up between her fingers when she’d tried to stem the flow. His bloody hand gripping her arm as his strength faded, his mouth working to release a single word.
Phoebe .
Then he’d shuddered and coughed up more blood, the warm drops splattering her face.
Mira’s stomach flipped. Bile flooded her mouth. She pressed her lips together with a panicked moan.
“Shit,” she heard Dominic hiss.
He swerved off the road and screeched to a halt. She shoved at the door with her shoulder, seconds before he pulled it open from the outside.
Mira tumbled to her knees in the grass and vomited a stinging mix of rum and bile. The handcuffs clicked and dropped away from her wrists. She brought her cramped arms around and lifted a shaking hand to wipe her mouth.
It was a dark, quiet street, full of brownstone apartments. She peered at the street signs. “Wh… what are we doing in Hyde Park?”
Dominic caught her elbow and helped her to her feet. “It’s just around the corner. We’re almost there.”
He opened the door, indicating for her to enter first into the dark first-floor apartment. Mira shoved past him, absently noting her spartan surroundings as she rushed toward the kitchen sink.
The entire kitchen was spotless, and the stainless steel sink gleamed as though it’d been polished to a shine.
She shrugged impatiently out of her jacket and let it drop to the floor. Turning on the faucet, she doused her hands in dish soap and began washing away the blood coating her hands and arms. Heat rose into her face as she scrubbed furiously. Her eyes blurred, blinding her.
“Just breathe.”
Dominic stepped behind her. He gripped the counter on either side, bracketing her body with his own.
“Breathe in,” he commanded quietly. His deep voice thrummed through her.
Mira bit her trembling lip. She sucked in a ragged breath.
“Now, let it out slowly.”
Her air emerged in a harsh sob. She closed her eyes, squeezing her soapy hands while she fought for calm.
A full minute later, she opened her eyes, and tears escaped down her cheeks. “I couldn’t save him.”
“The one you shot?”
“I had to shoot him,” Mira snapped. She swiped at her wet cheek, leaving a trail of soap suds behind. “That bullet is the least of his problems, believe me.”
“So, he’s still alive?”
“For now.” She resumed washing her soapy hands. “Not for long. He’s beyond Tyler’s help, even.”
“Your brother, right? The paramedic?”
Mira tried to glance over her shoulder at Dominic in annoyance, but he was too close for her liking. She quickly returned her eyes to the sink. “Is there anything you haven’t crept on, about me?”
“Everything about you is my business, Mira.”
She was too tired to argue. Her head hurt, and a terrible taste lingered in her mouth. “Do you have mouthwash or something?”
“The bathroom’s down the hall. Second door on the right.”
He stepped back, and she squeezed past him out the kitchen and flipped on the hall light. On her way to the bathroom, she curiously noted his bedroom, with its bedsheets tucked down in severe, tight folds.
Even the bathroom was oddly sterile. A row of neat, unmarked white bottles were lined up next to the shower. She checked the cabinet under the sink in search of the mouthwash, and found the entire space empty, without a speck of dust.
More white, unmarked bottles greeted her in the medicine cabinet, along with a case for contact lenses. The mouthwash with its familiar label was the one anomaly. She seized it in relief.
After rinsing her mouth thoroughly, she picked up one of the bottles next to the shower and uncapped it, lifting it to her nose.
It was scentless.
“Find something interesting?”
Mira shrugged and returned the bottle to its place. “I’ve never met someone who didn’t smell like anything at all.”
Dominic smirked and stepped close, crowding her in the small space. “I’m far from scentless, Mira.”
She drew in a sharp breath at his nearness, which brought in nothing but faint traces of rum and mouthwash. “Could’ve fooled me.”
His eyes darkened. “Let me know if you want a sample. I’ll leave my scent all over you.”
The soft, suggestive words left no doubt to their meaning. Mira dropped her gaze, blinking rapidly while she focused on not envisioning any of it.
“I’ll pass,” she finally managed.
She lifted a hand to push him back, but he deftly moved out of her grasp before leaving the bathroom.
Mira frowned as she followed him. There was that reaction, again. He was going out of his way to avoid being touched.
She reconsidered the spotless apartment. Maybe he had allergies, or an aversion to germs. That made his blatant offer to rub himself all over her even crazier. It wasn’t as though she’d have taken him up on it, anyway.
When she saw her soiled jacket on the kitchen floor, reality rushed back.
Nikhiv might already be dead, with Phoebe could be sobbing over his body, even now. Mira hugged her arms. “I may need another favor from you.”
Dominic stared at her in disbelief. “I just asked my friend to clean up your demon corpse.”
“Can he pick up another one, tomorrow?”
“So the other demon is still around.” Dominic crossed his arms. “Do you really want to be further in my debt?”
“Whatever it takes. I don’t care. The last thing Phoebe needs to deal with is getting a body out of her bed. She’ll be heartbroken enough, as it is.”
He frowned. “She was attached to him?”
“Does it matter?”
“More than you’d think. It’s time you told me everything, from the beginning.”
“I already told you everything.”
“You’ve given me next to nothing.”
Dominic ticked off the points on his hand. “One dead demon, killed by another demon, who’s now dying in Phoebe’s bed after getting shot with an unregistered weapon.”
“I told you, that bullet isn’t killing him. And the gun is mine.”
“Not anymore.” Dominic held up his few fingers. “Where’s the rest of the story?”
Mira shifted restlessly. Her shoulders drooped in defeat. “I can’t do this tonight. I need to go home, so I can shower.”
“You can use my shower. After you’ve told me everything.”
She hesitated. Her jeans were stiff with blood and sticking to her shins in ways that left her skin crawling. Either way, it’d be difficult enough to get home without causing too much attention.
Dominic seemed to follow the path of her thoughts. “You can borrow some of my clothes while yours are in the wash.”
“I wouldn’t want to use up your fancy, fragrance-free soap.”
He grinned. “I’ve got plenty, believe me. I’ll even let you take the bed.”
“You expect me to sleep here? At your place?”
“This isn’t my place.” Dominic’s smile faded. “Just somewhere I come to think, and relax.”
Mira blinked and glanced dubiously around. His idea of relaxation must entail scrubbing the place within an inch of its life. With a toothbrush.
“The sooner you start talking, the sooner you get a shower.”
“I’m showering first.” She raised her chin, daring him to object.
“Fine.” Dominic straightened with a sigh, and disappeared down the hall into the bedroom. He emerged with sweatpants and an undershirt.
“Thanks,” she muttered, when she accepted the clothes from him. She rushed to the bathroom. “I won’t take long.”
“No rush,” he murmured.
She closed the bathroom door and stared at it a few seconds without moving. The open heat in Dominic’s voice seemed to have obliterated her coherent thoughts.
I’ll leave my scent all over you.
Her stomach danced. It was the stress, that was all. Too much stress, no sleep, and a fuckton of rum meant the most annoying man alive was suddenly getting under her skin.
Mira shook her head, turned on the shower, and pulled her shirt and bra over her head. Glancing back at the door, she wondered if she should lock it.
Yet, if she’d feared that kind of danger, she would’ve never called Dominic in the first place. And the way he kept dodging her touch, he’d be more likely to barricade himself in his bedroom to escape her.
The absurd image made Mira snort as she stepped into the shower.
The three, plain white bottles greeted her. She gave up on distinguishing the shampoo from the body wash, and focused on getting clean.
Dominic was leaner than Nikhiv’s heavyset frame, but she still swam in the clothes he’d given her. The white shirt seemed safely thick enough to wear without her bra. She double-knotted the drawstring on the sweats to keep them in place.
At least her vision no longer swam. The hot steam had reduced her headache to a distant throb.
Dominic was in the kitchen when she opened the door. He had a rag in his hands, and another white bottle was open on the counter. Her leather jacket was draped over the sink.
Mira opened her mouth to tell him she’d take care of it, but the sight of the shimmery blood stole her words. Maybe she didn’t have it in her to handle the cleaning herself.
If the jacket hadn’t once belonged to her mother, she might have just tossed it in the trash. But it’d become Mira’s talisman. A constant reminder of the rebellious badass her mother had once been.
Before life had worn her down, and fear had broken her spirit.
“Where’s the washing machine?” Mira asked instead.
“Just set them down,” Dominic called over the running water. He glanced back at her as he washed his hands. “I’ll… take…”
Mira frowned. He shut off the water and dried his hands, abandoning his work to walk toward her.
She fought to remain still while she wondered what he saw. But she’d checked herself three times in the mirror before emerging from the bathroom, and refused to squirm under his stare.
Dominic slowly pulled his eyes up from her clothes as though roused from a deep trance. “You ready to talk, now?”
She blinked at him, trying to focus on his words and not his soft voice, which seemed to suggest anything but talking. Feigning nonchalance, she shrugged. “Sure, if you think it’ll do any good.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” His eyes raked her clothes again when he passed her and went to the living room. He settled into a recliner, and indicated for her to take the couch.
Mira eyed him warily. “None of this has shit to do with the DFC.”
“I’ve already figured that out,” he told her as she joined him. “I much preferred your previous shenanigans. I miss them already. Now, start talking, Mira. All of it. From the very beginning.”
Phoebe’s terrible, high-pitched scream echoed through her dreams, wrenching her from sleep.
Mira blinked at the gray daylight filtering in through the blinds as the shrill sound faded from her mind. She’d never heard Phoebe scream like that, before. It’d probably haunt her dreams for a long time.
She was curled on her side, with her fists pressed to her chest. Wincing, she slowly relaxed her hands, and sat up.
Dominic’s bedroom was even more spartan than the rest of the apartment. Nothing but the bed, the nightstand, and a dresser filled the space.
Her washed clothes were in a neat stack on the dresser, looking surprisingly clean of blood.
Mira lifted his undershirt to her nose and inhaled. Maybe there was the faintest whiff of his scent clinging to them. It was slight, but still there, and interesting enough to have her drawing in more breaths trying to catch it again.
Annoyed with herself, she finally pulled the shirt over her head, and dressed.
She crept through the apartment, careful of creaking floorboards. Her jacket was on a hanger in the corner, with a fan pointed at it.
It was still damp, but also clean of blood. She glanced toward the living room, wondering how long he’d spent on it.
Dominic was stretched out in a recliner with his feet propped on the table. As she watched, he opened his eyes.
His gaze felt startlingly intimate. She looked away quickly, and spotted her phone on the counter, still in two pieces.
Mira snatched her jacket off the hanger and grabbed her phone. She opened the front door and paused, without turning around.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, before pulling the door shut behind her.
She jogged down the front steps of the brownstone, into the too-bright early morning sunshine. After booting up her phone, it buzzed with a missed call from Tyler, followed by a text from him. Her stomach dropped.
Nikhiv will be gone by sunrise.