filing drawer. “I’m upping your pay by thirty percent, effective last Friday. I wouldn’t want to lose the best-kept secret in town because I’m too cheap to notice the value of your extensive talents. And that includes the favor you did for us last night. Good technique with the smell thing, by the way. It totally worked.” Witches charged exorbitantly for their crafting services. There were no freebies. And we both knew it. “You can file it under ‘saving the boss’s ass’ or ‘awesome spell casting under extreme pressure,’ whichever works best for you.” I chuckled as I walked down the hallway.
“Just doing my job,” she muttered after me.
“I can hear you.”
“Stupid werewolf hearing.”
I was still smiling when I entered my office. Marcy would take my secret to the grave, and after what she did for me and my apartment, there was no sense trying to pretend it didn’t happen. I felt a small pang, because by knowing my new secret she was involved in this whether she wanted to be or not. But knowing her, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. In fact, she’d probably choke the life out of me if she found out I’d been keeping such a thing from her. We didn’t have to have a conversation about it; she was smart and knew the stakes.
My office was small and decorated with standard-issue furniture from the previous tenants. There was a conference room down the hall with a bigger table to accommodate larger groups, but on the whole, we usually met with our clients in a convenient spot of their choosing. The biggest selling point of this particular space, other than its nondescript nature, had been the big windows.
I plucked a thick folder off my desk as I sat down. I shoved my purse by my feet and set Marcy’s notes to the side to go over later. Getting back to work was a godsend. Making sure my mind stayed off everything was the key to keeping myself sane.
I opened the case file. The imp we’d been tracking the night of my change, Drake Jensen, was a forty- seven-year-old lowlife slimeball, and it looked like he’d been busy these last few nights.
I scanned Drake’s background in the file. It was the first time I’d seen any of this, because he was a new target and the report had taken time to generate. An imp was the lowest demon on the totem pole, which meant he was stronger than a human, but not impossible to catch. By nature, an imp was half demon, half human, his demon side usually inherited from his father. Male demons were known to have the occasional fling with a human counterpart. Female demons were rare and reclusive.
Drake, it seemed, got his rocks off on sex and fear, which was not unusual for certain kinds of imps of the sex demon variety. It fed them the way food feeds the rest of us. But instead of consenting adults, his chosen targets had been young innocents, which made him worse than slime.
He’d recently been released from a human jail for soliciting underage sex and he was already back to his old filthy habits.
We actually had quite a few files on imps because they typically caused the most trouble. They were one of the few super-natural Sects who didn’t care if they got caught. An imp usually had a specialized skill, depending on its parent demonic origin. But they all typically had weak magic, because demon magic was born of the blood, and human blood was extremely diluted. Like pouring a shot of vodka in a gallon of water. Hard to get yourself drunk.
Drake’s abilities were still unknown. It was a shame birth certificates weren’t more helpful, indicating things like “great-grandfather was a fire demon” or “child may have lingering perverse sexual tendencies, from twice- removed sex demon uncle.” Because of the sex fixation, we were fairly sure he’d come from an incubus, which meant he most likely possessed the power of sexual persuasion, a dangerous skill to have.
I glanced through the last pages. Drake was on the move. He’d gone to the same movie theater parking lot the past three nights in a row and had been agitated last night in particular. He’d actually left his car, but hadn’t physically approached anyone.
I set the folder down on my desk.
If Drake had left his vehicle, his sexual need was coming to a head. Literally. Most incubi had to have sex once every few weeks to fuel their life force. If Drake was still targeting innocents, I was looking forward to catching him and making him pay for his crimes.
Almost immediately a clear image of me pummeling Drake jumped into my head and a sudden jolt of satisfaction surged through me. I grabbed on to the edge of my desk to steady myself, leaving little half-moon nailprints in the cheap laminant wood. I had him by the neck. He was struggling, but it was no contest. A tide of endorphins rode through my blood-stream, dizzying me.
My wolf growled happily inside my head, snapping her muzzle in agreement.
Hold on there, sister. One step at a time.
I needed food.
I spent the remainder of the day making calls and eating. I shoveled in as much food as Marcy could lay in front of me. My hunger was insatiable.
It was sad, really, because at this rate I’d have to eat in private from now on. There was no way I could go into a restaurant and order three cheeseburgers at a time and then gobble them down in front of anyone with any sense. And there wasn’t enough time to go to three different restaurants for a normal-sized meal every time I was hungry. It kind of sucked, because I hated cooking, but I was going to have to learn in a hurry; either that or be resigned to the bleak fate of eating prepackaged food or takeout for the rest of eternity.
Marcy was positively gleeful as she dropped another greasy takeout bag on my desk.
I ripped into it without hesitation.
“Good Lord, woman,” Marcy said. “At this rate you’re going to be twice your size by the end of the week.”
“Be quiet or I’ll make you eat with me,” I managed between bites. “Not all of us were lucky enough to be born with the body of a supermodel.” Marcy was tall, svelte, and had incredible curves, which is exactly why normal women referred to women like her as “bitches.” It was completely unfair. She could ingest anything she wanted and still look phenomenal. I was hoping my newer, faster metabolism would shape me into a Marcy over time. Doubtful, but I could hope.
She took one look at my face and made a hasty retreat, but not before throwing over her shoulder, “If I ate like that, my stomach would explode. Then you’d be sorry.”
“Quiet, hot stuff,” I said, my mouth already around another burger.
After my third dip into food, I finally had time to call Nathan Dunn, my landlord, back. It was a quick conversation, and I heartily accepted his offer to help clean up the mess in my apartment. I briefly explained about the piles of furniture and he assured me he would have a team out there shortly to take care of it.
I was mildly surprised I hadn’t “heard” from Tyler yet. Communicating telepathically was handy. I gave a small tweak out-ward in my mind.
Tyler, are you there?
Nothing.
I wondered if there was a distance range. Weird.
Next I wrote my statement for the police and faxed it over to the station. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to James in person, but my dad was going to fill him in. Ray hadn’t shown up today waving an arrest warrant, so that meant the tranq findings hadn’t come back yet. Or they’d been inconclusive. Even better.
The last thing on my agenda was to retry my potential new client. I’d tried calling him earlier in the day, but hadn’t gotten through and there’d been no voicemail option, which was a little strange. Everybody had voicemail. I picked up Marcy’s note, which had his name highlighted as “the cute-voiced Colin Rourke” and a phone number.
“We’ll just see about that,” I mumbled as I dialed.
“Hello, this is Rourke,” a very strong male voice answered on the first ring.
I had to admit, it held a very nice bravado. There was also an intriguing trace accent I couldn’t readily place. “Hello, Mr. Rourke. This is Molly Hannon, of Hannon & Michaels. You contacted us yesterday about a possible problem? What can I do for you?”
“Ah, Ms. Hannon.” I could detect a hint of a smile behind those words. “Thanks for getting back to me. It seems I’m having some issues with my business partner, and I’d like to retain your services.”
“What kind of problems specifically?” I asked. We took most cases, but sometimes things weren’t nearly as
