Ashe tightened her jaw. “Who says I’m threatening? Threats are just warm-up exercises.” She burst through the door to the foyer, leaving a trail of water behind her. “I can’t believe I hired that goof.”
He grabbed her arm. “You made this appointment because you are fighting to keep your daughter.”
Ashe shrugged herself free. “Yeah, and there’s no way that jerk is going to represent my case for one second more. A lawyer is a weapon. I only use clean weapons.”
She saw the flash of understanding cross his face. “I’m not an idiot, Reynard.”
“You’re angry.”
“Anger is just another tool.”
She jabbed the elevator button. There was a sign on the door saying that Bannerman, Wishart, and Yee had moved offices to the sixth floor during renovations. Maybe Bannerman had actually listened to her advice about evacuating because of the demon slime.
Reynard did stop her from bursting through the office door with all the subtlety of a drug raid. The droid behind the reception desk managed a shocked, “Ms. Carver!” as they barged in, but by then Ashe had a long stake in one hand. The woman’s mouth snapped shut with a gulp.
There wasn’t anyone else in the waiting room, just dim lights and the soft, hypnotic rush of air-conditioning. She had no idea if there were people in the other offices in the suite. The place had that clinical, empty feel of a bad sci-fi movie set.
The receptionist dove for the phone. Ashe grabbed the cord and ripped it out of the wall.
“Cover her,” she ordered Reynard. “If she tries to push any buttons, tie her up.”
Reynard nodded. He was no cleaner than Ashe, his hair fallen loose in a wild mass of wet tendrils. His shirt was plastered to his skin, showing off the muscles beneath. He frowned down at the secretary. Her eyes went wide, but a little speculative. Maybe bondage was her thing. Underneath the scowl, Reynard looked like he was having way too much fun.
Good someone is.
Ashe slammed open Bannerman’s door. He was sitting at the little round conference table that filled one corner of the office. It had four chairs. The second was occupied by a man she assumed was her in- laws’ lawyer.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said brightly.
“Good God, Ms. Carver!” Bannerman exclaimed, falling back in his chair with a look of disgust mingled with fear. His eyes traveled up and down her body again and again, as if staring hard enough would make her disappear.
The other guy just looked confused. “This is your client?”
Ashe advanced on Bannerman like a Valkyrie coming in for the kill. “You know, if you’re going to hide from a demon, it’s going to take more than changing floors in the same building.”
“What are you talking about?” Bannerman cried, looking wildly around.
“You’re up to your ’nads in doo-doo, dude. I went in on a ghostbusting job and, lo and behold, I ended up giving your demon a migraine. The spell wasn’t powerful enough to send it packing, but it got real pissed off.”
“My demon?” Bannerman scoffed.
Okay, so he was going to deny the whole biz in front his colleague. Idiot.
Ashe planted herself on the other side of the table, leaning across it to get in Bannerman’s face. “Yeah, whatcha do, sell it a haunted bookshop? Old Mr. Cowan’s place? Demons really hate ghosts, by the way, one of the few types of entities they can’t control, even if they are a thousand times more powerful. Like mice and elephants. Ghosts make them crazy. Ghostbusting gives them a headache. I bet old Tony didn’t know that when he called for someone to despook his new store. My guess is that he’s not that old, as demons go.”
Bannerman said nothing, but his expression went from shocked to calculating.
Ashe leaned in another inch. “He’s our bad guy, isn’t he? Demons always look so nice when they’re playing human. They’re almost impossible to detect at first.”
“I don’t do business with demons.”
“Of course not,” said the other lawyer. “That would be illegal.”
Ashe detected a note of irony in the other man’s voice. He was young and modishly dressed, with the latest in tech toys arranged before him. “Brent Hashimoto,” he said. “I’m here representing the de Larrochas. Excuse me if I don’t shake. You—um—stink.”
“ ’S okay. I got up close and personal with hellspawn. It’s a smelly business.”
Ashe inched yet closer to Bannerman, who bellowed, “Miss McCormick, call security!”
“She’s tied up,” Ashe said grimly. “Or else she’s begging for it by now.”
Hashimoto sniggered, reaching for his camera phone. Ashe raised the stake, and watched him back off with a shrug.
“Good decision.” She smiled.
She turned back to Bannerman. “Now. You promised me that my custody case would get top-drawer treatment if I got rid of your demon.”
She heard Hashimoto inhale. Good. “I said I’d do my best, but demons aren’t easy to find and they’re very, very hard to kill. Normally they kill you first. But hey, I was willing to at least check it out and see what could be done, for the sake of my daughter.”
She rested the tip of the stake against Bannerman’s chest, making him gasp. “But you, Chuckles, already knew who it was and where it was. All it took was a rummage in the database of the land titles office. It wasn’t hard from there to find out who handled the sale of the estate for Mr. Cowan’s heirs: Bannerman, Wishart, and Yee, Barristers and Solicitors. The place was sold to one Anthony Yarndice. Tony.”
“So?”
Pushing a little on the stake, she leaned over. “Did you think a demon wouldn’t care about a little spook action? Figured he wouldn’t complain, because demons can’t legally hold property to begin with? Figured he’d take the crap property and be grateful?”
Bannerman’s eyelids fluttered, and then he broke as easily as the yoke of a half-cooked egg. “He—it— wanted a store. He got one.”
Hashimoto’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? You cut a deal with a demon? I didn’t even know you did real estate.”
Bannerman twitched. “Just a bit of a sideline from wills, divorce settlements, that sort of thing.”
Ashe gave the stake a shove, just enough to dent his skin. “Why, Mr. Bannerman, did you put me needlessly at risk?”
“Risk? Everyone knows how powerful a hunter you are. Your sister killed a demon queen, after all. You have everyone afraid.”
“Who is everyone?”
Bannerman didn’t answer.
Impatient, Ashe tried again. “Why not ask me to simply go exorcise the bookstore owner at Fort and Main?”
Her prey was sweating, rivulets running down his temples. “I couldn’t. I wanted to. I want him gone. I just . . . couldn’t.”
“Easygoing Tony has you running scared, eh?”
“He—it—made it so that I can’t say more.”
“It put you under a compulsion?”
“Yes!”
Ashe swore. Probably the moment Bannerman had started to deal with the demon, old Tony had made the lawyer his unwilling flunky.
Hashimoto looked fascinated. “Did you sell it any other properties?”
Bannerman was turning red. “I can’t say!”
Which meant he had. A negative answer would have been straightforward.
“Where?” Ashe demanded.
Bannerman made a sound between a choke and a quack.
“That’s too obvious,” Hashimoto said, coming out of his seat and around the table. “The demon would have thought of where.” He rubbed his nose, a nervous gesture, but his eyes were alight with an almost gleeful interest.
