Hammer Down: Children of the Undying: Book 2 (8 page)

Graham stood just outside the room, smoking a cigarette, his coat collar turned up like some centuries-old secret agent. “You’re early.”

“So are you.” Zel crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. The only smell that registered was the pungent scent of Graham’s cigarette. No trace of the woman’s pleasure lingered, no evidence at all of their encounter, and it underscored all the things he hated about clinical, impersonal sex in the network. No muss, no fuss.

No satisfaction.

Graham glanced in the room and nodded politely as the woman in the red dress walked out. His disinterest turned to mild embarrassment when she stopped and whispered thanks in Zel’s ear.

When she’d gone, Graham crushed out his cigarette. “Heard you had a recent delivery, a real special one. Eyes and ears.”

“More than we wanted of both,” Zel agreed easily. “Things are all tangled up.”

“Maybe we can discuss it over beers sometime.” Graham raised his eyebrows. “If you don’t open the package and turn it on, someone might wonder why.”

Cryptic enough, but Zel had no trouble interpreting. The Nicollet council hadn’t heard from their spy, but if they didn’t soon, they’d know something was wrong. “It had a user manual, but damn if I know if the thing’s outdated.”
Is the plan still solid?

“You’ll muddle through. At this point, anything’s better than nothing.”

It was a dangerous risk, but Graham only had so much access to the inner workings of the city council. Enough to know that a spy was on the way, but not enough to know
why
. If Trip could pull off his crazy stunt, if the psychic could get the right info, if no one caught them…
If, if, if.
Too many variables, too few answers.

At least he could find out one thing. “Heard any rumblings about my new friends? Too many pretty ladies.”

“Happy coincidence, as far as I know.” Graham almost smiled. “You should enjoy the view while you can.”

It didn’t absolve Devi of suspicion, but it helped. “Will do. How’s your view these days?”

“A little overgrown, but I can see well enough. May have to work on those obstructions soon, though.”

“If it gets too bad, you can always crash with us for a while. I know your allergies act up where you are.” As if the word
allergies
could encompass the pain Graham lived with as a halfblood hiding his nature among humans. Visiting the club with the screwy ADS was the closest thing the man got to respite. So much time linked up would have driven Zel homicidal by now, but Graham had always been a law unto himself.

Now, he looked calm. Almost serene. “A few sniffles never hurt anyone, my friend.”

Crazy motherfucker.
Either that or he got off on the pain, which was the sort of thing Zel was more comfortable not considering too closely. “Good to hear. I gotta get a move on. Just remember the light’s always on.”

“I’ll do that.” Graham shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Say hello to her for me, would you?”

Zel played dumb. “Who, Hail? Girl looks like she’s carrying triplets these days.”

“Mmm, I meant your guest. But you do have your hands full.” He turned away. “Take care, Dominic.”

Dominic. It was his given name, but it sounded odd coming from anyone but his mother. Of course, considering where they were, it was smart. Men and women with a demon kink tended to know their halfbloods, and Zel wasn’t a common name.

Graham was, but Zel wasn’t taking any chances. “Night, man. Catch you next time.”

“Of course you will.” He disappeared into the shadows, still looking like the villain in an old black-and-white espionage film, the kind Trip would dig out of the archives and try to make people watch in the common rooms.

The woman he’d been with was probably still around, but Zel had no desire to find her again. He couldn’t even work up the enthusiasm to find someone else. Pure, old-fashioned lust had worked its way under his skin, and it wouldn’t leave until Devi did.

Chapter Seven

Zel’s second proved to be a petite brunette with mocha skin and shockingly blue eyes, one who looked like she might go into labor at any second. She smiled at Devi, dismissed Lorenzo with a wave and gestured to a worn but well-padded chair. “I hope you don’t mind being casual. I’m more comfortable on the sofa.”

“I understand.” Zel’s reluctance to have the woman trek out to the visitors’ area made sense. Devi perched on the edge of the chair. “Should you be…dealing with me at the moment? I can come back later.”

“I’m fine. The men overreact because neither of them has the slightest experience with pregnant women. Besides, I don’t think you mean to cause me any distress.”

“Not in the least.”

“Good. How is your crew settling in? Is everyone comfortable enough? And your girl, Cache? Is she feeling better?”

Devi inclined her head. Cache had healed completely—physically. Dealing with the psychological aftermath of the demon attack would be far messier. “I meant to ask if I could thank your healer. Rosalyn, I think?”

Regret painted Hailey’s features. “I can pass on your thanks, but for now it’s probably not a good idea. I’m sure you can understand that for a community like Rochester, a healer is a precious commodity.”

You’re not a guest, Devi.
“I understand.”

“I hope you’ll also understand that it isn’t personal. You’ve come upon us at an unsettled time, and tensions are running particularly high. Usually I’m able to ease them but…” She laid a hand on her rounded belly. “I don’t move quite as quickly as I used to.”

There was obviously more to it, but Devi didn’t push. “I can endure a lot, as long as my crew is safe. But I won’t be able to reassure them forever.”

“Of course. Shall we dispense with the sweet diplomacy and speak frankly?”

Relief suffused Devi. “I’m not very good with anything else.”

“I am, but I have an advantage. Do you know much about what happens when someone with summoner heritage mates with someone with demon blood?”

“No.”

A small, tight smile. “You get me. My intuition is…above average. Almost magical, in fact. And under normal circumstances, I could reassure the people here that you mean us no harm and that would be the end of it.”

“But not right now, because there’s been trouble,” Devi surmised.

“Trouble I’m not entirely removed from,” Hailey confirmed. “It’s easy to disregard the opinions of a highly pregnant woman who just lost the father of her child. Whether they think I have ulterior motives or that I’m crazy from grief or hormones, the end result is the same.”

That left no quick fix for the suspicion they faced, and Devi had seen unchecked suspicion turn to persecution far too often. “Then it’s better for everyone if we get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”

“I wish I didn’t agree, but there’s no point in pretending. Zel mentioned that you need fuel, but is there any other damage to your trucks that needs repair?”

She and Juliet still had to get under the trucks and do a thorough inventory of their structural integrity and mechanisms. “So far, nothing that can’t be fixed with some sheet metal and stamp rivets. But I can’t know for sure yet.”

“Then I’ll ask my assistant to bring our fuel supervisor over. No one gets near the equipment without his say-so, but if you want to make your own fuel, you can. We can provide someone to assist you.”

“Thank you.” Maybe they’d have been better off paying through the nose than bartering with information but, at this point, she didn’t care. The deal was done, and what she needed to do was get them refueled and gone.

And then I won’t have to think about Zel anymore.

Bank vaults were good for holding weapons. In Zel’s opinion, they also made excellent prisons.

Rochester had never had much need for a holding cell. On the rare occasions someone stirred up trouble, it was easier to toss them into a spare room to think about what they’d done. On the even rarer occasions where someone did something so terrible they needed long-term or high-security confinement, they were banished.

Neither option would have done for their council spy, so Zel had cleared out one of the smaller vaults on the far side of the settlement and placed guards outside. The place had a musty, stale odor and was dusty as hell, but he wasn’t terribly concerned with comfort.

A few days in a dark metal box should have made Elan Cyrus more willing to talk, but when Zel spun his chair around and sat down, he found his restrained adversary every bit as confrontational as he had been the day they’d caught him.

The man stared at him.

Zel had never been good at faking innocuous, but he did his best to at least avoid seeming outwardly hostile. “We’re both in a bit of a tight spot here.”

Nothing.

“Yeah, I’m really impressed with the silent treatment, but it’s not going to do you much good.”

Cyrus frowned. “Nothing will. Not at this point.”

“Not even if we send you back to your city?”

“Do you know what a double agent is?” He smiled faintly. “A compromised operative poses a significant risk, Dominic Wetzel.”

So much for the promise of leniency—for the man
or
their settlement. “So you’re ready to die?”

His eyes were flat, black. “It’s my job.”

“Do you want to die?”

“I’m not one of your crazy feral warriors, Wetzel. But I’m not afraid of it.”

Cyrus wasn’t going to bend, but Zel had better tools at his disposal than crude torture. He leaned back in his chair and raised his voice. “Lanna?”

Lanna drifted into the room, and Zel fought the temptation to groan. She’d braided her hair while waiting outside, twisting it into twin pigtails that hung over her shoulders, and her expression was one of wide-eyed innocence. She looked like a teenager who’d wandered into the wrong room instead of what she was—a hybrid with a dangerous psychic gift.

Zel gestured to the spy. “Should I bother talking to him?”

The man grimaced and hissed a curse. “Get the fuck out of my head.”

“No need to be crude.” Lanna toyed with the end of one braid. “You think you’re afraid of me now, but you have no idea. With my help, any halfblood here could flip you.”

He froze. “I don’t care.”

Lanna’s voice dropped to a croon. “With my assistance, a halfblood would not need to stay close to control you. I could ensure any command they gave you persisted…all the way back to Nicollet.”

He relaxed a little. “They’d anticipate a counter-offensive, possibly even with me as the pawn. It would be useless.”

“Would it?” Lanna’s tone shifted, turned predatory enough for Zel to know she’d found a weakness. “We have no need of a spy, but I think you would make an excellent weapon. The man who betrayed his own people. When I am finished with you, the grandchildren of your city’s grandchildren will use your name as a curse.”

His voice shrank to a whisper. “No.”

“Speak. Tell us why you are here.”

His jaw clenched. “I was told to infiltrate this settlement.”

Zel leaned forward, both elbows braced on his knees. “Obviously. Tell me why.”

He hesitated so long that Lanna stepped forward again. Finally, he spoke. “I’m awaiting further mission objectives.”

“Lanna?”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Zel released his breath on a frustrated sigh. “Is this related to the incident two months ago? Is Nicollet planning to retaliate?”

The man snorted. “You’re lucky they haven’t already firebombed this shit hole.”

A blatant threat, and not a very deft one. Between Graham’s undercover snooping and Tanner and Juliet’s observations, Zel had a decent idea what sort of military firepower Nicollet could bring to bear, and it fell significantly short of firebombing. “So that’s the plan? Wipe us out like vermin?”

“No.” He bared his teeth in an angry grin. “That would be too easy.”

Lanna shook her head. “He doesn’t know. He’s not important enough to know.”

The spy shot her a look that could have flayed skin from bone. “More important than you. Any of you.”

“Enough. This is a waste of time.” Zel rose and waved a hand at the man in the chair. “Don’t hurt him, Lanna. We may need him later. But take everything he knows.”

“It won’t matter,” Cyrus said again, frantically this time. “It won’t
matter
.”

Lanna paused, tilting her head to the side. “He thinks he’s being truthful.”

It didn’t mean much. The spy had no way of knowing what Trip and Lanna had planned—hell, Zel didn’t completely understand it himself, and Trip had been explaining the idea of it for a month. As far as Zel knew, no one had successfully counterfeited someone else’s signal in the network, not proficiently enough to fool a full scan. What Trip had managed was one step short of magic.

What Lanna was about to do
was
magic, plain and simple. She settled into the folding chair Zel had vacated and crossed her legs at the ankle before folding her hands together in her lap. Prim and proper, but for the look in her eyes. She’d dropped any appearance of innocence, and her cold, calculating expression evoked a primitive response in Zel, the urge to guard against a potential enemy. As useful as Lanna was, he’d never been fully comfortable around her.

He didn’t need to be for this. She closed her eyes, and the council agent jerked once in his restraints, his eyes rolling back.

Zel turned his back, unwilling to watch. Lanna had the power and the strength to copy every thought in the man’s head, and the eerie ability to compartmentalize and access them at will. Trip could make the council see their spy standing in front of them, but Lanna could make them believe.

Now all he had to do was pull one over on the Nicollet council while regaining the confidence of his people and not getting distracted by the smoking hot woman holed up in his guest quarters.

Easy as falling off a log…into a pit of snakes.

Cache pulled Juliet into the network construct, and Devi watched as the blonde flickered and swayed. “I hate this shit.”

“I know you have a hard time with it, but a secure network is the only way to have a truly private conversation at this point.”

Tanner popped in a second later, much steadier—or much better at hiding his discomfort. He glanced around and quirked an eyebrow. “You redecorated, baby girl. Been streaming old historical videos?”