Trouble with the Cursed, page 4
Dali is quitting? I thought, surprised as I glanced over the counter to the somewhat portly demon handing someone their drink order through the drive-through window. “No, but I’ll keep an ear out,” I said as I stuffed a couple of bills into the tip jar.
Mark smiled as he saw the extra. “Thanks. Go sit down. Dali or I will bring it out.”
“You got it,” I said, beaming as he gave me a second bag with Jenks’s scone.
“Dali? One tall, hot, skinny demon!” Mark shouted, and I smirked as the demon actually shuddered. Why he wanted to appear as an out-of-work civil servant in slacks and a starched white shirt when he could be anything was beyond me. But I suppose slinging coffee in his spelling robes with bells and embroidered stars would feel even worse. No wonder he was quitting. I’d always thought he’d taken the job as a way to sell illegal curses under the table. Maybe that hadn’t worked out.
A flash of guilt took me, not because he was working a minimum-wage job, but because I still had to return the books that Al, my demon teacher, had stolen from him. I knew he wanted them, but honestly, Dali’s student couldn’t even talk yet.
“Hey, ah, Rachel?” Mark said before I could walk away, and I turned to see him holding out an invoked amulet. “For Pike. If he wants it. I jammed my finger last week, but the amulet is still good, and he looks as if he could use it.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took it, feeling a fluid moment of dizzy overmedication until I dropped it to hang by the lanyard. Unlike ley line amulets that simply needed to be in your auratic sphere, wooden potion amulets had to be touching your skin to work. “I’m sure he will appreciate it.”
Mark ducked his head, clearly pleased. Satisfaction gave my hips an extra sway as I made my way through the coffeehouse, eager to give Pike something to make his life easier.
The place was busy, but there was an obvious ring of empty tables around Pike, his attention down as he scribbled. Able to bust heads and still look studious, I mused as I smiled, the honest-to-God pleasure of having beaten the bad guys with him racing through me—and then I jerked to a halt, almost breathless at an unexpected pulse of desire-born heat. Swallowing, I paused at a rack of mugs, refusing to get closer until I caught hold of myself. I wasn’t so naïve as to think it was real. No, it was from our fight, the frightened kids, the relief of saving them.
And yet, the memory of him trying to seduce me several months ago made my pulse fast as I pretended to consider a mug emblazoned with Carew Tower. It had been all business ever since, so there was no lingering awkwardness. Much. But the residual adrenaline combined with seeing him confidently bruised and physically satiated brought it all back.
Damn vampire pheromones, I thought as I set the mug down. The pearl ring Trent had given me caught the light, and I exhaled, forcing the chemical-born ardor away. I loved Trent. This thing with Pike wasn’t real. Hell, it wasn’t even a thing.
Still, he looked more than good sitting there as I crossed the coffeehouse, my calm restored. He’d been sipping on Ivy’s undead mother to keep his scion abilities of heightened hearing and strength and maintain the illusion that Constance was still his master. But it was becoming obvious that he wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t just blood that a living vampire craved, but the highly charged sex that often went along with it. I knew he was finding himself increasingly frustrated and randy. That’s not why he asked for your help.
“For you,” I said as I stood before him, and he blinked in wonder at the pain amulet dangling in my grip. “Courtesy of the management.”
Pike’s gaze went to Mark behind the counter. “You know I don’t need that.”
“Take it anyway.” I beamed, refusing to let my thoughts linger on how attractive his slight annoyance was with his faint stubble. “Thank the man.”
Sighing, Pike hung the amulet around his neck and gave Mark a somewhat sarcastic, toothy smile. Mark’s pleased expression paled, and then he turned to help the next person in line.
“The things I do for you,” Pike grumped, and I eased myself down on the long bench beside Pike where I could see the door. A long finger went out to shift the bag. “Cookies?”
My phone dinged, and I glanced to see Jenks’s text with the library’s phone number. Thanks, Jenks. “Trent’s coming.”
“Of course he is.” Pike eased back, clearly annoyed. “This does not concern the elves.”
“It never hurts to have an outside opinion.” See, I can sit here and not think about how dark his hair is, or how tall he stands, or his lean, hungry quickness.
“Oh, my effing God,” Pike swore softly, and my attention flicked up, breath catching at the sultry confidence that had blossomed in his suddenly pupil-black eyes. “Jenks was right. You really do get off on kicking ass.”
My lips parted, and I slid two feet down the bench away from him. “I do not!”
“You do!” he insisted, his lips quirking as if it was funny. “You’re as randy as a goat.”
“Shut it!” I all but hissed, lips pressing as I shot a glance at the nearest tables, praying that no one was listening. “I do not . . .” Words catching, I lowered my voice. “I do not get off on kicking ass.”
A smile played about his lips. “I think it’s sweet,” he said. “A strong, capable enforcer who gets excited at a little tussle.”
“Stop,” I said, voice cold, and he sighed, almost in regret.
“Sorry.” My foul mood hesitated at the sincerity in that one word, but he ruined it, his lips curving up in half a smirk as he leaned into the hard cushion. “I think it’s great that you enjoy your work,” he said, deadpan. “Not everyone does. Find something you love to do, and you never work another day in your life.”
“You really need to stop,” I warned him, and, chuckling, he drew his scribbles close.
I was sullenly silent as I glanced around the shop to see if anyone had caught that, but my good mood began to trickle back as I realized all the angst and pheromone-induced attraction was gone. Pike had intentionally nullified it by bringing it out, showing me how foolish it would have been to act on it. He’s a good man, I thought as he flicked another drawing into the growing pile.
“Fangs?” I guessed as I pulled it to me. “You getting a tattoo?” I asked, sure he wasn’t. Vampires didn’t get them. Weres did as a way to show pack affiliation and establish who was senior alpha without a growl or ill look. But since pain was part of the experience and vampires could turn pain into pleasure, no self-respecting tattoo artist would ink anyone with fangs.
“Not exactly.” His smile returned, pride having utterly replaced any sexual charge. “We need something we can tag a building with when we do something to keep the city safe.”
My eyebrows rose. “So the I.S. can take credit for it, but the people on the streets know it was us?” I pulled the five sketches closer. “Nice.” Leafing through them, I slowed at four Xs. “Four strikes and you’re out?” I guessed, and his expression took on a hint of embarrassment.
“It’s actually a W and an M intertwined. Morgan and Welroe.”
“Oh!” I squinted, seeing it now. “I like it.” Jenks wouldn’t, but Jenks hadn’t been policing Cincy’s vamps for the last four months. Pike and Kip had been doing most of it, with me providing extra muscle when needed. It was working, and everyone seemed content. For now.
Pike took the sketch and dropped it on the pile. “Why are you bringing Trent into this? We work better without him.”
My gaze shot to my pinky ring, not entirely comfortable that Pike had noticed that, too. Where is my coffee? “Because Finnis wants to see Constance,” I said. “And if I need some help from the Weres or the elves or even the witches, I want them prepared.” Vivian, I thought, brow furrowing. It was not coincidence that the leader of the witches’ coven of moral and ethical standards had temporarily moved from San Francisco to Cincinnati to teach a couple of classes at the university. Vivian was here assessing the threat I was, a friendly eye or not.
“Hodin?” Pike offered, and I shook my head, watching the door.
“Finnis knows her. That won’t work.” Not to mention I don’t trust him. Hodin was starting to feel easy like a wish, and wishes always came back to bite you on the ass.
“You’re overthinking this.” Pike sketched another twined M and W to look like a diamond hanging between two parallel lines. “All we need to do is pay the dead clot off. He goes home. Life goes on.”
“Buy his silence?” I said, all thoughts of how good Pike smelled vanishing as a real worry took me. “I don’t have that kind of money, and we are not going to extort it from the people we protect. So unless you are sitting on a money tree or a silver mine . . .”
He leaned away, the rim of brown around his pupils shrinking. “There is Piscary’s. I’ve almost got the MPL pushed through, and with that, we can open.”
My eyebrows rose. A mixed-population license was harder to get than a liquor license.
“New money stream—” he added, his words cutting off as his attention jerked up.
I followed his gaze, blinking at Dali’s ample middle unexpectedly fronting us, the demon looking rather surreal in his red and white apron. He had our drink order in one of those paperboard trays, and he set it down, his expression empty. “Ah, thanks, Dali,” I all but stammered. “I could have gotten it. You shouldn’t be bringing me stuff.” The iced coffee was cold in my hands as I worked it free and handed it to Pike.
“Not at all,” he drawled sarcastically. “It’s what I live for.” Lips pressed, he watched Pike take a sip.
“ ’S good. Thank you,” the vampire said, but Dali didn’t move, arms over his middle in an obvious annoyance. His books . . . I thought suddenly.
“Hey, uh, I promise I’ll bring your books the next time I come out,” I said, forcing myself to not cringe when he squinted malevolently at me. “Or you can pick them up,” I added, voice rising. “Jenks knows where they are if I’m not there.”
His lips pressed together. “Are you still harboring Hodin?”
Hiding behind a sip of hot coffee, I nodded.
“Then I will not be coming over. Lest I forget myself and wring his treacherous neck for his appalling lack of consideration in clinging to life when those who trusted him lost theirs. Excuse me.” He turned on a heel, people leaning to get out of his way as he strode behind the counter.
“Stop it,” I hissed when Pike snickered. “Don’t discount him because he’s in an apron and working as a barista. He could bring down Carew Tower with a word if he wanted.”
“I don’t discount him,” Pike said as he tidied his scribbles to leave the bracketed diamond on top. “But I do think it’s funny he’s eavesdropping on us.”
My shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I noticed that, too.” But my coffee was perfect, and I let the hot, creamy, raspberry-flavored yumminess slip into me as I watched the door for Trent. “Pike, I don’t like the idea of opening up Piscary’s, especially if it’s to pay off the vampires.”
Pike slumped into the bench, his long legs stretched under the table as he dabbed a bloodied knuckle with a stiff napkin. “Rachel, you know a lot about vampires, but you aren’t one. The undead will take care of themselves, but the living need a place to cut loose. Somewhere without an undead mucking it up. Somewhere they can forget about the hellhole they’re in.”
My thoughts went to Kisten. He’d run Piscary’s when the master vampire had been in jail, turning it from a vampire pickup joint to exactly what Pike was talking about, and as I thought of him, my focus blurred. Even now, I missed Kisten, the way he had made me feel, both alive and on the edge.
“It’s been a bitch working past your reputation,” Pike added. “It’s taking twice the bribe money to move things along, but I should have the MPL by the end of the month.”
“I thought it was going to be a vamp-only establishment.”
“You serve alcohol, you need an MPL,” he said. “But yes, it would cater to vamps.”
“What if a human walked in. On a dare?” I stifled a shiver as I remembered getting blood-sugared, basically drunk on vampire pheromones. I’d been at their mercy. That they took it as a compliment and their compassion had been all-encompassing was not the point.
Pike grinned to show his chipped fang. “So I make tomatoes the motif. On the walls, on the menu. Everything. No human will dare show his or her face.” He balled up the napkin and tossed it to the table. “You and I have been where the buck stops since March. The honeymoon is over. They need somewhere to go and blow off steam. Think of it as a safe place to bring their concerns without their master vampire knowing.”
Oh. I pressed my lips together, not liking that he was right. “Okay, but Piscary’s isn’t neutral. It’s me. It’s you.” It’s Kisten. “Isn’t there somewhere else we can do this? Somewhere with better air replacement?”
“Like your church?” he said doubtfully, and I shook my head, horrified. The surrounding conversations suddenly went whispery and I glanced up, not surprised that Trent was coming in, the chimes on the door glowing a faint red at whatever security spells he had going in the background. Somehow he managed to appear cool even in his lightweight, pale gray suit. His shoes were new, his fair hair wispy, and his chin clean-shaven. A smile lit his entire face, going all the way to his eyes when he saw me, and damn it if I didn’t feel a trill of excitement.
This, I thought as Pike stifled a groan. This is real.
“Oh, good God. Get a room,” Pike muttered.
“Jealous?” I said, ignoring that I’d been daydreaming over him not five minutes ago.
“Rachel,” Trent said as he nodded to Pike and slid in beside me, all three of us with our backs to the door. “You look good.”
I flushed as he slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me into him. There were too many people with cameras for a kiss, but it was in his touch. A trickle of ley line energy warmed me as our internal balances equalized, and I felt myself relax. Yes. Real . . .
“Trent,” Pike said flatly, and Trent flashed him a professional, media-worthy smile. Clearly there was still some unresolved friction between them. I wasn’t going to feel guilty anymore that it was easier to work a run with Pike than Trent. I’d do ugly things if anyone seriously hurt Pike, but if the same happened to Trent, I’d take unforgivable action.
“Mr. Welroe,” Trent said amicably. “The run went well?” he asked, noticing the pain amulet.
Pike grimaced and took it off. “She made me wear it,” he muttered, and Trent chuckled, tugging me closer again before teasing another pillow feather out of my hair.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” I said. “What brings you in?”
Trent pulled his coffee closer, eyeing the bag as if knowing it held cookies. “Just some business,” he said lightly. “Nothing certain yet.”
Pike stuffed the scribbles into his pocket. “Isn’t your birthday coming up, Rachel?”
It was, but Trent seemed to freeze as if only now realizing it, making me even more curious as to what he was doing downtown.
“Cookie?” I said sweetly as I held out the bag, and Trent hesitated a telling instant before taking one. “Pike?” I said next, and Pike shook his head as if sensing danger.
“Pike wants to buy Finnis off,” I said, snapping a cookie in two and nibbling the smaller half. “Which I’m against. He knows Constance, so Hodin impersonating her is out. Even if he is the demon’s best doppelganger spell slinger according to Al.”
“Paying him off is easy. Safe.” Pike inched down the bench away from me, his coffee in hand. “Life goes on. We’ll have a steady stream once Piscary’s opens.”
“You’re reopening Piscary’s?” Trent said, and I lifted one shoulder and let it fall.
“We’re talking about it,” I said, and a smile flitted about Pike’s lips.
Trent took a second cookie, silent in thought as he removed the lid from his coffee and dunked it. “I’m with Rachel. Bribing a master vampire might work in a closed vampire system, but in Cincinnati?” Trent gazed out the windows, his focus distant. “Word will get around, and every wannabe alpha and upstart undead will want the same deal. Controlling a city by paying citizens to follow the law only gives them money to buy the muscle to bring you down. Better to settle it and have the fallout be a warning to others.”
I couldn’t keep magicking every vampire they sent to run Cincinnati into a mouse, though. Killing them twice would put me in jail.
Trent leaned an elbow on the table. “Do you think Constance will play nice if you turn her back?”
“No.” Pike went distant in memory. “She’s . . . No,” he finished, tone resolute.
“Then I suggest you find out what Finnis wants.” Trent pointed a half-eaten, coffee-soaked cookie at Pike. “They know Constance hasn’t been calling the shots or they wouldn’t be checking on her. Clearly the city is running smoothly. They probably don’t like that they have zero control over you. Makes them nervous. Maybe he simply wants to talk. Find the rope to hang you with if you do something they don’t like.”
Other than hurting Ivy? I thought, worried.
“Yeah, okay,” Pike scoffed. “He wants a kickback. I can have that in twenty-four hours with the right bet.”
“No,” I said softly. “Trent’s right. If you start paying powers off, pretty soon, you don’t control the city, the city is controlling you.” I winced as my birthday got sidelined. “I’m giving David and Vivian the heads-up. If there’s going to be trouble, they need to know.”
Pike gestured in exasperation. “This is such a waste of time.”
“Talking is never a waste of time.” Trent sighed, twisting to reach his phone when it dinged. “Ah, Rachel . . .” he said as he read the incoming text. “If you have this . . .”
