Julie’s green eyes brimmed with tears. “I was stunned. Still am. I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. What happened, Grant? The cop who talked to Wendy and me said she committed suicide? I don’t believe it. I-”
“I was there. She was on drugs. I don’t think she walked into the traffic on purpose; it was like she was hallucinating.”
She touched his face. “You were hurt.”
“It’s fine.”
Julie stared at him. He took her hand. Her skin was so soft. He squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
“I want to go home-Wendy said I could, she called in a few people. I just-I don’t want to be alone.”
“Come to my place.” He kissed her forehead. Her scent made him shiver; why hadn’t he noticed how good she smelled before? He pulled her to him, hugged her tightly, breathed in her hair. Kissed her neck, held her.
“Please-my place. You still have some of your things there. And I have that massage oil you like so much.” She touched his face. “Do you have a headache? You don’t look so good.”
“A migraine.”
She kissed him. “You know I can get rid of it for you.”
Julie was inventive in bed, and would do anything he asked. He nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Let me get my purse.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t-”
“I want to.”
He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
In the employee room, he locked the door. “Julie, come here.” He unzipped his pants.
“Grant-”
“Please. It’ll make us both feel better.”
A cloud crossed Julie’s face, but he pushed her doubt aside.
“You know I make you feel better.”
She nodded. “We have to be fast.” Her bottom lip quivered.
“Then kneel.”
She obeyed him and took his cock in her mouth. He held her there, not thinking about Julie, not thinking about anything but the rush of blood through his veins, the throbbing, his need. He orgasmed hard and fast, but didn’t feel the wave of satisfaction he always enjoyed. His entire body was on edge, uncomfortable.
Julie pushed herself away. He hadn’t realized he was still holding on to the back of her head. “Grant,” she panted. “I couldn’t breathe!”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Let’s go.”
“Are you okay? Grant, you’re-”
“It’s been a long fucking day and I just want to screw you in bed, okay?”
She looked like she was going to cry. He felt like slapping her.
Grant frowned. He’d never hit a woman in his life. What was he thinking? He rubbed his temples.
Julie rushed over to him. “I’ll take care of you, Grant. You’ll be okay. I won’t let anything hurt you. Let’s go.”
He didn’t remember how they got to her place, but the next thing he remembered was Julie, naked beneath him, crying.
“You’re familiar with how the succubus operates, correct?” Jackson asked after Rafe closed the hotel door. “And her male counterpart, the incubus?”
“Generally. They’re demons who have sex with humans. But most alleged succubus attacks were human in nature,” Rafe said. “People who claimed they were attacked by such a demon in order to cover up affairs, for example. From everything I’ve heard, they don’t generally kill their victims. Sometimes drive them insane, but not steal their souls.”
“True. But covens like Wendy’s use the demons for their own gain, summoning them for an exchange-a soul for something of value.”
“They don’t need a succubus for that,” Moira said.
“No, but Wendy’s coven is a sex coven, and they have a devotion to a specific demon. The things of value can be anything, but are usually information from the supernatural world-new and improved spells, the location of powerful occult objects. Sometimes they seek something more immediate and tangible, like a house or money. The demons can’t just conjure up such things, but they can make certain things happen that benefit the witch.”
“Like if someone wants a new house, their aunt may die and leave it to them?” Rafe asked.
“Exactly. I’ve been researching Wendy Donovan ever since you left this afternoon. She owns fifty percent of Velocity and several other clubs that belonged to Kent Galion. But there is no record of her buying into it. Galion is carrying a small loan, but her share is worth at least twenty times the loan.”
“He just gave it to her?” Moira grabbed a water bottle off the top of the dresser. It wasn’t until she opened it that she noticed the
“I was skeptical,” Jackson continued, “but then I called a friend in public records and he confirmed the corporate records and lien amounts. She owns her house outright. It’s worth at least two million dollars-the Hollywood Hills is a coveted area.”
“She bought it?”
“No. Three years ago, she was engaged to a popular rock star, Kyle Dane. He bought the house, but had her put on the deed with right of survivorship when she moved in. When he died, his insurance paid off the mortgage. It’s hers, free and clear.” Jackson sat at the table in the corner, his gaze sweeping the room and pausing on the salt traps and strategically placed crucifixes.
Rafe sat across from Jackson. “How did he die?”
“Heart attack, after a concert. He’d been ill for weeks and his doctors advised him against touring-this was all in the major papers, I did a Google search.”
“So it was no big surprise when he dropped dead,” Rafe said.
“Except,” Moira interjected, “he was engaged to a witch who summons demons.” She didn’t dare sit for fear her exhaustion would overpower her. Instead, she leaned against the dresser.
“Where does Lust come in?” Rafe asked.
“I wish I knew,” Jackson said. “But since succubi are sex demons and Lust by definition feeds on the human sex drive, they must be connected.”
They had to be, but Moira didn’t know how. “Do you have a picture of the chalice you mentioned on the phone?”
He unfolded a computer printout. “I got this from a friend of mine in London. This is what I think Wendy has.”
It was a detailed drawing of a squat, bowl-like chalice with a glass ball nestled in the shallow curve. The base was wider than the cup and curved upward.
“Such a chalice is often used in sex magic. If there’s no demon involved, the glass ball isn’t necessary. The witches will collect bodily fluids-blood, semen, saliva-in the bowl and offer it up. They are essentially asking for favors, more like a prayer than an order. But with this specific chalice, the blood of the victims is dripped into the base. The glass is essential to open the doorway to Hell. When the demon is first summoned, it’s brought through the chalice-”
Moira said, “Like Fiona used a human vessel to bring forth the Seven Deadly Sins.”
“Right,” Jackson said. “But a succubus ritual isn’t usually quite as deadly-or dangerous. With the right ritual, the chalice becomes a mobile doorway to Hell. The demon comes in, is channeled into a woman-or if an incubus, a man-and goes about the business of stealing the marked soul.
“The thing is, when the soul is claimed, the demon is supposed to leave the human vessel and snap back into the bowl. The coven then completes the ritual, and the demon goes back to Hell.”
“Something went wrong with Wendy’s ritual this time,” Rafe said.
“Damn straight,” Moira said. “We have to be prepared. If the demon left Nadine’s body because it was being drawn back into the original gateway-the chalice-that means it could still be at Wendy’s house.”
