8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Killian
T he address our boss gave us was to a seedy motel in an isolated, run-down industrial area, and after searching it thoroughly, we found nothing. When Tanner sent us here to find a Succubus, I was a little excited at the possibility of hunting down a monster we thought had been extinct, but there was no trail to follow. The cleanup crew did a great job of removing all the evidence. Those dumb fucks.
Or maybe there wasn’t anything here to begin with and Tanner just got bad intel. It’s happened before. We did find information about a murder that happened at this motel. It looks like the victim was a supernatural. Based on the markings left behind on the floor, it looked to be a ritual. I don’t know much of the details, but I didn’t ask either. That dead woman isn’t part of our mission.
I catch a faint whiff of something that smells absolutely irresistible. I notice Rhett sniffing the air, his senses on high alert.
“You smell that?” I ask.
He nods. There’s something enticing underneath the smell of bleach and disinfectant—an aroma so irresistible I want to drown myself in it. Sweet and spicy, warm and rich, like nothing I’ve encountered before.
“You think you can track the scent?” I ask, hopeful that he’ll say yes.
“No. It’s too faint,” Rhett says regretfully.
My shoulders slump slightly in disappointment. If it were anyone else, they probably wouldn’t have noticed that subtle deflation. But after years of working together, Rhett and I know each other so well. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the dissatisfaction.
“We need to ask the owner who paid for this room, just to cover our bases when Tanner asks for a progress report on the investigation. Going through the motions of his wild goose chase could buy us a few more days in town to track down the previous guests. Maybe we’ll find whoever left this scent behind and the trip won’t be for nothing,” Rhett suggests helpfully.
I nod, my determination returning. We make our way to the front desk where an older woman sits, eyes glued to her phone. As we approach, I smooth my features into an amiable expression. No need to alarm her with the full intensity of our focus. Rhett follows my lead, leaning casually against the counter beside me.
“Excuse me, miss,” I say politely to catch her attention. “We need a list of guests who have stayed in room 105.” The older lady looks up from her phone and drops it. We’ve probably scared her, two big guys showing up out of nowhere demanding information.
“I—” she stutters, before clearing her throat and speaking again. “I can’t give you that information,” she says, trying to hold eye contact with me but failing. If we were fae, we could have her eating from the palm of our hand, but because we’re not, we’re going to have to do this our way.
Rhett’s eyes go bronze as he goes into her mind, a telltale sign he’s tapping into his demonic abilities. He delves into her mind, weaving an illusion of fulfillment—a tantalizing promise of desires met that she cannot resist. It’s not always about physical desire, but sometimes the lure of feeling understood, appreciated, or whatever her mind craves most at the moment. As the illusion takes hold, her expression slackens, eyes glazed over as she stares into the distance, momentarily lost in the fabricated ecstasy Rhett has conjured. This distraction is our window.
I look through the papers in front of her, but there’s nothing important. It looks like a stack of homework assignments. I bend down and pull on one of the cabinets. There’s a bunch of snacks in this one. I walk to the other side and pull the one there. I shuffle through the papers and find the ones dated this year.
“Found it! I’ve got receipts for the past month. We’ll just have to track all of them down.” I leave the bigger stack behind, only taking fifteen sheets, but all I can think about is that scent. What is it with that smell that has me so riled up? “I’ll call in and ask Arcana’s tech department to trace these names.”
Anticipation courses through me at the thought that we might finally be getting somewhere. My pulse quickens, and blood pumps faster through my veins. I shift restlessly, the energy buzzing under my skin, begging for release. This chase has my predatory instincts flaring up. I’m a hound catching the first whiff of a fresh trail, even if it isn’t the trail we were sent here to hunt.
My fingers tap impatiently on the receipts as I imagine the tech team hunting down more clues. I’ve never been one for sitting around waiting. I want to act, to move, to hunt. My inner demon stirs, drawn by the promise of confrontation.
“Don’t you think they’ll ask questions?” Rhett’s voice snaps me from my swirling thoughts. He eyes me knowingly as he finishes copying down the names. He senses the shift, the awakening inside me. And he’s right, I need to be smart about this, but the rising thrill of the chase is too intoxicating to ignore. It feels like one step closer to that irresistible scent.
“They’ll believe it’s part of the case. It’s the logical thing to do.”
If there’s a Succubus out there, and she’s been hiding this long, there’s no way she’d be dumb enough to give out her real name and real address. This is only because we need the person the smell belongs to. The techs won’t know that it’s not related to the mission we’re on.
“I guess you’re right.”
I grab my phone from my pocket, dial the number, and go back into the room. The scent is so faint but so alluring. I have to know who it belongs to.
“Hey Jerry, I’m going to send you a list of names. Can you find their addresses for me?”
“Sure thing,” he says before I hang up the phone.
I grab a room key while the clerk is still dreaming, and Rhett and I walk into an empty room. I lay the pieces of paper down on the bed, take a picture of every single one of them, and send them to Jerry. We wait for a while, and Rhett keeps an eye on the window to make sure no one shows up.
I’m sprawled across the end of the bed by the time my phone pings. I open my message and smile.
“Got a place!” I yell out.
Rhett comes back in from the bathroom looking hopeful. “We shouldn’t go on this side mission,” he argues, though it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself too.
“Are you able to resist the call?” I ask. Rhett shakes his head, confirming what I already knew. “Yeah, me either.”
“So what, we go, and then what happens?” He leans against the front door.
“I have no fucking clue. Maybe we can fuck whoever it is and hopefully get it out of our system.”
He rubs his chin in thought before it looks like he makes up his mind. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
We walk back to our rental car. I put the address in the navigation while Rhett releases the clerk from his hold.
“The first place isn’t too far.” My excitement is through the roof right now.
What is it about the scent that draws us in? That makes us halt our assignment just so we can go out looking for it? In all the years we’ve been hunting together, this has never happened to us before. I look over at Rhett. He’s staring out the window in deep thought. He probably has the same questions running through his mind. What will happen once we meet her? Is she or he nice or a horrible person? What will that person think of us?
“There are ten locations for people who have rented room 105 in the past month,” I say as I pull up to the first address. “Jerry in tech managed to track every guest based on receipts and records.”
Now Rhett and I have to investigate each one, following our noses to find the source. I know it’s a long shot, but the smell has us hooked. We have to pursue it, even if it derails Tanner’s pointless mission.
We get to a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. I stop when we arrive at the dilapidated house matching the first address. Rhett and I assess our surroundings before breaking into the place. As soon as we enter, I know it’s a bust. No trace of that tantalizing aroma, just the stale air of abandonment. One down, nine more potential places to check. I’m hoping we discover the origin soon. Not knowing is keeping me on edge. Who does that scent belong to? And what will we do once we actually find them?
We get to a sketchy neighborhood and pull to a stop in front of the next address. It doesn’t look like anyone is home, but we check the area before slipping in through an unlocked window in the back. One whiff and we know this isn’t it.
“Thank the goddess they’re all fairly close together,” Rhett says as he glances at the message from Jerry.
He enters the third address and we’re on our way. The next six don’t pan out either. It’s already late, but we’re determined to find the scent.
“One last address,” Rhett says, and he sounds a little less hopeful.
“It’ll be the one,” I reassure him.
We’ve finally made it to the apartment.
“This is it?” Rhett asks as I double-check the navigation. I nod, taking in the worn-down building. Chipped stucco clings desperately to the structure, while most of the windows are either shattered or hastily boarded up with weathered plywood. The walls that were likely vibrant and welcoming decades ago are now faded to a sad palette of yellow with streaks and grime, evidence of years without care. It’s clear this building has seen better days.
We head inside, cautiously making our way up the dingy stairwell to the top floor. The scents of cooking spices, incense, and lived-in humanity mingle in the air. I push away thoughts of this place’s rough exterior as we focus on the strong aroma drawing us in.
The scent grows stronger on the third floor. We follow our noses, not even needing the apartment number now. Just before we reach the mystery door, my phone rings, interrupting the moment. I exchange a look with Rhett, whose raised brow mirrors my own curiosity about who could be calling.
“It’s Banks. ” I ignore it and shove it back in my pocket. It’s not the first time I’ve ignored his call, but he usually hates it when I do it.
I knock softly, but when there’s no response, Rhett pushes me out of the way and slams one heavy foot into the center of the door with a crack of splintering wood.
The smell wafting out of the gaping doorway assaults me, and as we climb over the broken door, it becomes obvious that the spicy scent belongs to a woman. She left a shirt on the dining table, and after lifting it to my face, I tuck it into my back pocket for later.
“She has a man.” Rhett holds up a man’s hoodie and throws it back down on the table. This stops me in my hunt for another piece of her clothing. He growls so loud, and I find myself doing the same. “We need to find her.”
I move to the bedroom, the air here is cooler, her scent less pronounced, suggesting she hasn’t been here for a couple of days. The bed is neatly made with no signs of a speedy departure. Despite the orderliness, there’s an undeniable wear to everything. The drawers, though neatly arranged, show signs of frequent use, the paint chipped at the edges, and the handles slightly tarnished. My eyes sweep over the room, landing on nothing out of the ordinary until a small gleam on the carpet catches my eye.
“If she isn’t here, then where is she?” Bending down, I pick up a business card. The light catches the glossy surface as I turn it over, reading the name printed in bold letters. Special Agent...Cooper. I tuck the card into my pocket, mind racing.
Is she under investigation by the feds? If they got to her already, who knows what they’ll do. She could be imprisoned or worse. The thought makes my blood boil. I meet Rhett’s gaze and see my own resolve reflected there. We aren’t leaving LA until we find her. I don’t know where she’s gone or why, but I swear we’ll track her down. We can’t let Agent Cooper and the FBI get their hands on her. The Arcana Society has ways of hiding people when needed. We’ll keep her safe, I vow silently. No matter what it takes.
Cooper. If he wants a fight over her, he’ll damn well get one.