Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
“Can you taste the difference between the two? The lesson here is that every ingredient counts. Even a wine’s vintage.”
Nikhiv turned as Dominic and Bastian entered the empty dining room. “Good timing.” He placed his hand on the shoulder of the cook beside him. “I have a confession: My protégé Mario is the one who prepared your lunch the other day.”
A look of panic crossed the young demon’s face. He squared his shoulders, as though braced for their anger.
Bastian only nodded. “You have talent. And an excellent teacher.”
Mario’s replied thanks was nearly a whisper.
“See?” Nikhiv clapped him on the back. “Now, go practice the sauce once more. I’ll join you in a few.”
“The head chef’s coat looks good on you,” Bastian told Nikhiv after Mario had left. “Congratulations.”
“I suppose you didn’t have anything to do with it?”
Bastian smiled.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?” Nikhiv pulled out a dining room chair and sat.
Dominic snorted. “You can just say you’re sick of seeing us.”
“When that day comes, you’ll immediately know.”
“We have reason to believe that Le Prestige may be targeted in three days by an activist group.”
Nikhiv frowned. “Shouldn’t you be informing the owner, then?”
“The group is the Demon Freedom Coalition.”
“Ah.” He sighed with a rueful smile. “Our troubled Mira.”
“This is far bigger than anything Mira’s local group could accomplish on their own. The DFC in its entirety likes to put on a unified demonstration once a year. A show of force of their growing movement. This year, Chicago was chosen as the location.”
“And what better place to target than Corruption Central?” Nikhiv sighed. “At least, that’s how Mira described Le Prestige. I can’t imagine the collective opinion is much different.”
“I wish I could say this will be a peaceful protest, and nothing to worry about. But I’ve been tracking the DFC for years, and there’s yet to be one of these events that hasn’t ended in some kind of scuffle with the local authorities.”
Bastian took out his phone and paced away, toward the terrace. “I’ll let the owner know. Maybe he’ll be willing to close the restaurant that day.”
“See if he’s willing to close it for the remainder of the week,” Dominic called after him. “The DFC is known for suddenly shifting their plans to hamper any response. It could happen in two days, or even four.”
“How about today?”
Dominic turned at Bastian’s quiet words. “What’s that?”
Bastian didn’t move from the terrace doors. “How about right now?”
Dominic exchanged glances with Nikhiv, and they both joined Bastian. Nikhiv opened the glass doors, and they stepped outside.
The fourth-floor terrace granted them a clear view of the black-clad protestors streaming onto the boulevard below. They flowed in orderly lines across the bridges over the Chicago River, and even up the stairs from the riverwalk.
“Well, fuck,” Dominic muttered.
“You don’t see that every day,” Nikhiv agreed.
Without speaking, they lined up in one row after another, cutting off the six lanes of traffic. Cars slowed and honked before making awkward U-turns back the way they had come.
Dominic scanned the surrounding buildings. “How the hell did they mobilize so many without alerting the city?”
Bastian hummed thoughtfully. “There’s a fairly large concert happening tonight at the House of Blues across the River. No one would have thought much of a sudden influx of pedestrians.”
Dominic recalled Jackson’s quick outfit change after the food festival. “Especially if they arrived in plain clothes. That’s also part of the DFC playbook.”
“Clever,” Nikhiv mused. “You’re saying Mira is down there somewhere?”
“The local DFC units usually get pride of place at large events like this.” Dominic leaned over the terrace, searching. “Mira’s group would be a little closer to the main action.”
At a clatter above them, they all turned, and looked up.
A long, white roll suspended on two wires was being carefully lowered over the roof by two hooded DFC members.
Mira’s faint scent wafted to Dominic’s nose, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s up there.”
The suspended roll stopped. Its two handlers fiddled with the wires, cutting additional strings loose, until a twenty-foot- wide, white silk screen unfurled down the length of the building, obscuring the restaurant’s name.
La Cupidité , large letters announced in the same scrolling script as Le Prestige’s original branding.
Dominic frowned, and fished for his phone in his pocket.
“Greed,” Nikhiv explained. “It means greed.”
Beneath it, a colorful, massive illustration of a man in a top hat sat at a table. Clutching his knife and fork, he grinned greedily at the plate before him, which was crammed with tiny cowering people, city buildings, and bundles of cash.
Beside the diner, a waiter with the emblem of the Council on his uniform stood with another plate ready. A wad of cash could be seen protruding from his pocket.
Ragged cheers drew Dominic’s attention. He turned to see a group of tourists on a passing tour boat taking pictures and raising their fists.
“Yeah,” a young woman screamed from the upper deck as the boat puttered by. She gripped the railing and leaned forward. “Eat the fucking rich!”
In the distance, sirens wailed.
Bastian grimaced. “That escalated quickly. Shall we go retrieve your future mate?”
Speechless, Dominic stared at him as he strode back inside. “She’s not…”
Nikhiv raised his brow in challenge as he followed Bastian.
“…have your attention,” a woman was saying calmly over the restaurant’s speaker system when Dominic stepped back into the dining room. “We ask all Club members to remain within their reserved areas while we address the ongoing situation. Our security team will check each room, and answer any—”
“Mario, send for the ma?tre d',” Bastian ordered when the young man came out of the adjoining kitchen. “Tell him—”
Nikhiv blocked Bastian’s path with his arm.“Wait.” He glared at Mario, baring his teeth.
Dominic’s blood ran cold when he saw Mario’s sluggish, awkward movements. A chef’s knife dangled loosely in his slack hand. With slow, wrenching steps, he approached them.
Something between panic and pain clouded the young man’s eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks.
“Mario.” Nikhiv raised a staying hand. A flurry of emotions crossed his face, as though battling his own memories. “We know you’re being manipulated. No one is blaming you.”
Behind him, Bastian quickly sent a text message. He motioned for Dominic to back away.
Dominic eased toward the wall, watching the door.
“Mario,” Nikhiv was saying. “Focus on my—”
The dining room’s double doors burst open to admit two of Le Prestige’s security team. The first guard stopped, and reached for his gun uncertainly.
The second security guard shoved past him. He looked quickly from Mario to Nikhiv, then swept his arm out in a chopping motion.
A bluish green ball of smoke spun through the air and struck Mario on the back of the skull. Mario’s eyes rolled up, and he slumped to the ground.
Dominic grunted in surprise.
“Thanks, Carter. He was under the control of an air demon who’s still loose in the building. Find a way to discreetly separate any smoke demons from the human guests. Keep your guard up.”
Carter frowned. He spared one last glance around the dining room, and left. The other guard hurried after him.
His face seemed vaguely familiar, but it more than Dominic could bother with as he returned to the terrace and glanced up, toward the roof.
He could still smell Mira, but barely. Below, a line of mounted police were making their way down the boulevard toward the protestors. The sirens had drawn closer.
“Mario wasn’t trying to harm us,” Nikhiv noted. “He was heading toward the door.”
“Smoke demons were used to hurt humans in the other attacks,” Dominic crouched and pried the knife from the cook’s hands. “There needs to be a human victim. Preferably one of the patrons or a member of the staff, if the goal is to pin the blame on the DFC.”
An unknown air demon still roamed the building, but there was only one person in Dominic’s thoughts, driving out all other logic.
Obliterating all else but the overwhelming need to protect.
He headed to the doors. “I need to find Mira.”
Nikhiv said something in reply, but he was already jogging down the hallway toward the elevators. After only a few seconds impatiently waiting for the elevator to descend, he abandoned it and headed for the stairwell.
Dominic took the stairs two at a time before he surrendered to his demon instincts, and vanished on a wisp of smoke. He reappeared on the next flight of stairs, and then the next, leapfrogging on smoke to reach the top floor and the roof’s access.
The pool’s water was glasslike and still, reflecting the dull, cloudy afternoon light. Soft Bossa Nova music still whispered from the rooftop bar’s speakers, and two abandoned cocktail glasses stood on a table.
“How about now?” Mira tugged at one of the wires leading over the edge, a phone balanced on her ear. “Is it still crooked?”
“That banner couldn’t have been cheap.”
“Shit.” Mira whirled at Dominic’s voice behind her. The phone clattered to the ground.
“Where do you shop? Anarchist Depot?”
She gave him a sour smile as she bent to retrieve her phone. “Donations. You’d be amazed how many people wanted to see this happen.”
“Well, it’s happened. What now?” He joined her at the railing, and glanced down at where the massive silk screen fluttered against the side of the building, swaying in the breeze.
“It’s just a protest, Dominic.”
“Does that look peaceful down there to you?”
On the boulevard, a line of riot police were approaching the mass of people with their shields up. Three mounted policemen maneuvered their horses to flank the crowd, scattering alarmed protestors.
“Assholes,” Mira muttered. “It just looks like the usual bullshit.”
“Where’s the rest of your unit?”
“Busy. Like me.” She turned from the railing. “Stop worrying. It’ll be over in a couple hours. Then Bastian and his cronies can get back to their foie gras and…” She stared over his shoulder, looking uncertain.
Tensing, Dominic spun around. He frowned. “Cooper?”
The analyst stopped a few feet away, looking just as surprised.
“You’ve really embedded yourself deep in the DFC, haven’t you?” Cooper glanced at Mira curiously. “Is she your informant?”
“I’m not anyone’s fucking informant,” she snapped. She scowled at Dominic. “I just can’t get this stalker off my back.”
Dominic scanned the rooftop, wondering how he’d missed the sound of the roof access door opening once more. “Are you cleared for fieldwork now?”
Cooper’s face visibly fell. “No.” He went to the railing, and looked down at the protest. “The Council will never clear an analyst like me for fieldwork. I’ll retire chained to my desk.”
Mira’s eyes widened. He’s from the Council? she mouthed.
“Go find Nikhiv in the fourth floor dining room,” Dominic murmured. “I’ll meet you inside.”
Her face was uneasy when she finally moved away. She steered clear of Cooper, choosing to walk along the railing to keep the pool between them.
Cooper glanced up from his survey of the chaos below. “Don’t go.”
He disappeared.
“Fuck,” Dominic muttered. He searched the empty rooftop.
Cooper appeared at Mira’s side. She flinched with a startled cry.
“Don’t touch her,” Dominic snarled. He vanished into smoke.
An invisible wall slammed into him. Trapping him, and forcing him back into his physical body. Reeling, he dropped to his knees.
Cooper barked a sharp, stunned laugh. “Well, that was a surprise.”
He lifted his hand. Dominic surged upward, stumbling to his feet.
“You’re a smoke demon?” Cooper shook his head slightly with a look of wonder. “I guess I wasn’t the only one in the Council with a secret. Why can’t I smell you?”
Mira’s eyes widened, her face slack with shock. “…Dominic?” she whispered.
Cooper lowered his hand, and the force binding Dominic lessened slightly.
“As much as I’d love to make you my new toy, you won’t do. If the Council learns you’ve been hiding in their ranks, things in the office might get really awkward.” He tsked regretfully, and shrugged. “We’re not quite ready for that. Not yet, at least.”
Dominic worked his jaw and tried to speak, but couldn’t. He glanced at Mira, and held her eyes. She moved her chin in reply in the faintest of nods.
She abruptly burst into a run, and shrieked when Cooper blinked into being in front of her, cutting off her escape.
“Stay. Play with me.” He yanked her close, and sighed. “Wow. I can certainly smell you on her, though, Dominic.”
He turned and drew a deep breath of Mira’s scent. “It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled that. Got that pussy nice and primed for you, don’t you? And you didn’t even mate her. What a waste.”
She shoved at him, leaning away. “Why are air demons so chatty? It’s fucking annoying.”
Cooper’s easy smile faded. “What other air demons have you met, recently?”
Dismay painted Mira’s face, and she looked away.
“Fascinating response. Coincidentally, my friend just passed away. A drunken fall down the stairs. Or, so they said.” He glanced at Dominic. “The Council barely acknowledged his passing. They posted his job vacancy the next day.”
Cooper shook Mira, forcing her stricken eyes back to him. “He was a chatty air demon, too. Cheerful, even. Did you know Eric?”
Mira frowned in confusion before she blinked rapidly, looking anywhere but at Cooper. Her lip trembled. He huffed a small laugh.
“It was you, wasn’t it? And you didn’t even know his name. How do you kill someone, without first learning their name?” Fury flickered in his eyes, and disappeared again. “I, too, want to know what that feels like.”
The rooftop access door banged open, revealing Nikhiv. He looked quickly from where Dominic stood frozen, to Cooper.
“Oh, what’s this?” Cooper lifted his hand.
Nikhiv took a step forward and paused, before taking another step. His eyes slid to Dominic. “I don’t think he can control both of us at the same time.”
The force binding Dominic vanished. Cooper bared his teeth, and flung his hand at Nikhiv. Panic crossed his face.
Nikhiv resumed walking. “Or, perhaps you just can’t control me, at all.”
Dominic flexed his hands, testing his movement. He nodded at Nikhiv, and moved toward Cooper from the other side. Cooper’s arm tightened around Mira. His wild eyes darted between Dominic and Nikhiv.
Dominic had only a moment to realize Cooper’s intent before he shoved Mira off the roof. The wind ripped the startled shriek from her throat as she tumbled out of sight.
“NO!” Nikhiv roared.
It was too late. By the time Dominic heard the shout, he was already falling over the edge after her.