Hot Demon in the City (Latter Day Demons Book 1) (4 page)

"Sounds really good, I'm starved," I admitted. She gave me the name and address and said she'd be there in half an hour. I was grateful for her invitation the moment Vann stuck his head inside my cubicle to ask me if I were free for dinner.

* * *

"Canada," Anita shrugged when I asked her where she was from. "I have citizenship here, now. Applied right after I got my degree from UCLA."

"What the heck are you doing working in HR, then?" I asked.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but there aren't a lot of people of color—black or otherwise—working for Rome Enterprises. No offense," she held up a hand.

"None taken, and yes, I have noticed."

"So," she toyed with the saltshaker for a moment, as if she were deciding whether she could trust me or not, "I went to work in a low-level job so I can write an article on Rome's hiring practices. If I'm lucky, I can sell it to a New York newspaper or magazine."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "Can you include womanizing bosses in your article?"

"Vann giving you problems already?"

"He's asked me out twice, and I've only been on the job two days."

"Yeah—his last assistant of the female persuasion got engaged and married in self-defense, I think."

"How long have you worked for Rome Enterprises?"

"Nearly a year. You should see the stuff I have on my computer," she laughed.

"Aren't you worried that you'll be found out?"

"No—I sort of want them to fire me," she said.

"Well, that could cut into our budding friendship," I said. "Have you gotten any directives from someone above you—to only hire certain people?"

"No, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. Besides, look at me. You think they'd tell me to do that?"

"Well, no," I admitted. I knew little about discrimination on Earth; the Reth and Campiaan Alliances were naturally integrated, as each had more than five hundred member planets. I also wondered why Rome Enterprises hadn't been called to account for its hiring practices already.

"It wasn't always like this," Anita said, dropping her eyes for a moment. "I've done research. It all started when Rome Senior died and Jayson Rome and his mother sold their interests in the company to the oldest son and his wife."

"So the current owners are the reason?"

"I think so. I just need some undeniable proof that they're directly involved in the hiring process."

"That's sort of scary—to think they're watching over every decision," I frowned. "I thought they gave underlings some sort of autonomy."

"I heard Laurel fired somebody just because she didn't like the way they looked," Anita whispered. "I got wind of that while I was still at UCLA."

"Have you talked to that person? Do you know who it was?"

"I'm still working on that."

My gran always said that if you couldn't prove something, it didn't happen. Anita might have a strong basis for her article, but she was right—she didn't have sufficient proof. I could tell which of her words were truth and which were uncertain—she'd only heard rumors about Laurel Rome firing somebody. I felt she was on the fence about her article, too, but didn't want to dig too deeply into that mystery.

"I think you should tread carefully, and hand somebody a backup of all your information," I suggested instead. "Or put it in a safe place so someone you trust can find it. Just in case."

"I sent it already," she said. "To my cousin in LA. She works in a law office."

"Good. Here comes the waiter—what are we going to eat?" I opened my menu to read the selections.

* * *

Anita's car was parked two down from mine in the minuscule parking lot surrounding the restaurant. At least she'd turned to workplace gossip after dropping her initial bomb on me.

Yes, the attack took me by surprise. I promised myself I'd never let that happen again.

They were after Anita, that much was certain, but in their eyes, I presented little problem. Three of them came for us, with knives. I felt like giggling hysterically as something my gran always said ran through my mind.

You don't bring a gun to a vampire fight
.

I'd been trained to protect myself at a very early age.

No, I wasn't vampire. I could hold my own against these, though. The first man who rushed me learned quickly; I had his knife in my hand and thumped him on the back of the neck with the thick handle, dropping him to the pavement in two blinks.

Anita faced the other two, who were poised to lunge at her.

I discovered she wasn't human, either.

She changed. Her clothing, torn to shreds with the transformation, puddled about her feet.

Something amphibious hissed at both men, who'd taken a step backward.

Don't kill them
, I sent hasty mindspeech, hoping she'd hear me. We didn't need human spaghetti left on the pavement surrounding a popular nightspot—somebody was bound to notice.

My worries were alleviated the moment both men turned and ran.

"Get up," Anita's alter ego jerked the third man off the ground; he was beginning to wake from the blow I'd delivered. "Tell your boss," she swung him around and locked eyes with his as the power in her voice dripped from scaly lips, "Tell your boss," she repeated, "that he should think twice before sending someone after me again. Now get the hell away from us, and never bother us again."

Anita and I watched him run as fast as he could down a dark street.

"Fuck," Anita snapped, toeing the ripped clothes at her feet. "I really liked that dress."

* * *

"This is all I have." I shoved clothes through the bathroom door. Anita had ridden home with me in my TinyCar, her other self barely fitting onto the passenger seat. Her neck may have had a crick in it by the time I pulled into my garage.

She'd waited until I showed her the nearest bathroom to change back to her human-looking self. The only things I found in my closet that might fit her were sweatpants and a T-shirt.

"These will do," she said and shut the door. I shuffled into the kitchen, attempting to decide whether I wanted wine or tea.

I opted for tea.

"So, I guess you have questions," she said, sliding onto a barstool at the kitchen island and accepting a cup of hot water with a tea bag.

"Probably less than you think," I said, sipping Earl Grey from my cup. "The things I want to ask most are—what the hell are you doing here, and have you bitten any seals, lately?"

* * *

"See," I showed Anita what I'd gotten from Vann—he'd copied Mike and me on the images sent by Marine Animal Sanctuary. One of them showed the bite marks clearly.

"Biting seals sounds repugnant," Anita huffed. "Plus, I hate cold water. Whoever did that," she tapped my computer screen, "has to be nuts."

"But you think it's one of your race?" I turned off the computer.

"It could be," Anita shrugged. "I still can't believe you're okay with all this."

"I'm not okay with three men coming after you with knives in the parking lot," I retorted. "Why would they do that?"

"No idea," she shrugged.

"Lie," I said.

"Fuck. Please tell me you're not one of those lie detectors."

"I won't tell you, but it won't change the truth of it."

"If you were human, you'd have run away screaming when you saw me change," Anita pointed a finger in my direction. "So, what are you? Shapeshifter? I hear some of those can move fast enough to snatch a knife away like that."

"Stop digging," I held up a hand. "Drink your tea. We have to decide whether it's safe for you to go home."

"I'm going home," she said, her voice flat. "You don't need those assholes showing up outside your house."

"You don't need them showing up at your place, either," I snapped.

"Look—if they knew where I lived, they'd have waited until I got home to attack, instead of following me to a restaurant. Besides, the address on file at work is a decoy. It's an empty building."

"Well, aren't you Miss Ingenuous," I said.

"I knew the minute I saw you that we'd be friends. Come on, I need to go home. You have to drive me back to the restaurant so I can get my car."

"Right. At least you'll fit in my car this time. Without getting a crick in your neck."

"At least I have sweats at home that actually fit. People with tiny butts should be outlawed."

"I don't have a tiny butt."

"Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

"Lie."

Anita laughed.

* * *

I should have known better. Really.

I learned two lessons that night—to always keep my guard up and to leave the car in the parking lot until daylight.

This time, six tried to jump us in an otherwise empty lot. It was a tougher fight this time, and I was blindsided by one man while fighting off two of his partners. My left eye started swelling immediately after he punched me. I returned the favor by knocking him into Anita's car.

Left a dent in it, too.

I thought Anita was going to shred the three she fought—one had an arm half torn off before he turned tail to run. When the other two got a good look at her teeth, they took off, too.

My three—well, they lay scattered across the pavement, in various stages of unconsciousness.

"I say we call the police," I said.

"I don't want to."

"We're gonna," I pulled my cell from a pocket of my jeans and dialed 9-1-1.

An hour later, we watched as three attackers were loaded into a cruiser while a concerned officer offered to take us to a hospital. My black eye by that time had almost swollen shut.

"I have ice at home," I waved him off. I really didn't want anybody drawing my blood in any emergency room—they might find a few things they didn't expect and I wasn't in the mood to make explanations or hasty exits.

"Any idea why they attacked you?"

"None," Anita shook her head. She was wrapped in a blanket supplied by the police—she'd lied once already, telling the officer that our attackers had ripped her clothing off.

"I figure it was attempted rape, but we'll get back to that after we question them downtown. I'm sure they're trying to remember their lawyer's phone number about now. It's a good thing you've had a self-defense course," he nodded at me.

It was another partial lie—I'd been trained to protect myself most of my life. One self-defense course wouldn't cover what I could do. I considered buying a knife to hide in a boot or a thigh sheath—that would be the first thing my mother would have done.

"I'll have someone escort both of you home," the officer said.

Fine with me. I had to get up in four hours and go to work.

Chapter 3

Kordevik

"What the hell happened to you?" I demanded. Lexsi ignored me as she climbed into the van the following morning. Mike had another appointment with the Marine Animal Sanctuary people, in their downtown San Francisco office.

Lexsi looked as if she'd come out the loser in a bar fight. Her left eye was swelled shut and turning a deep shade of purple—even Watson's hadn't been that bad. Mike should have sent her home first thing—instead, she was chasing after his ass.

"I got attacked in a restaurant parking lot last night," she sighed. "You should see the other guys."

"Guys? As in more than one?"

"Three. And I called the police afterward," she said. "They're in jail. Do you have any aspirin? I've used up all I had already."

"Were they trying to rob you?" I demanded.

"Police think they had rape on their minds."

That's when my vision went red. Red as in
I was ready to turn and kill somebody
red.

Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts
.

"They're in jail?" I asked when I could speak without growling or breathing smoke.

"Yes. Unless they got out on bail. I didn't check."

"You didn't know who they were?"

"Never saw them before in my life."

"Hurry it up," Mike snapped. "You can talk later."

Adding Mike to the line of people I wanted to beat into pulp and then make paper, I shut Lexsi's door and climbed into the driver's seat. Half an hour later, we were at a street-level charitable foundation downtown.

* * *

Lexsi

"Here." Kory handed me a small packet of ibuprofen and a bottle of water while I watched Mike record a second interview with the Marine Animal Sanctuary folks. I wanted to tell the marine biologist what had actually bitten his seals, but as I didn't have that particular person/creature's name, I held back.

Chances are, he wouldn't believe me anyway and Anita might be pissed if I gave her race away.

"Found an ABC Store close by," Kory said when I turned my good eye on him.

"Thank you," I mumbled. He took the packet and opened it for me—I took all four tablets and downed them before he could tell me it was too many to take at once.

It wasn't—not for my kind. I sure didn't want to tell him that; he was being nice today, and I didn't want to mess that up.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked after drinking half the bottle of water.

"Nothing. Just—put some ice on that when we get back to the station, all right?"

"Yeah."

"I mean it."

"I do, too."

A frown marred his features, and I suppose it was then I realized he had a nice mouth. "Stop frowning—you look better when you smile," I said.

"I suggest that your vision is skewed at the moment."

"Maybe, but I've seen you with both eyes before."

"And my heart stops," he placed his right hand over his chest.

"Difik," I muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Look—Mike's wrapping up. I have to help Jessie."

I wanted to tune Mike out on the drive back to the studio, but he needed an audience, so I listened. Nothing new had cropped up on dead seals, although several more had washed up. I figured somebody was killing them for fun; the race in question preferred raw fish in their alternate state, not pinnipeds.

It made me think that Anita probably loved sashimi.

"What happened?" Farin demanded as I trailed Mike through the studio.

"Three guys in the parking lot of a restaurant," I said. "They got hauled to jail last night."

"I'll get ice," she said and disappeared into the employee break room. After she brought ice wrapped in a clean towel and fresh coffee for me, Farin the weather girl was added to my tentative-but-tiny friends list.

"I wanted to work in Texas or Oklahoma," she told me as I sipped coffee and tried to keep the ice pack on my eye at the same time. "I'm a weather geek," she added. "Wanted to go where the weather is more volatile, but Mom and Dad live here, so here I am. Dad's the one who got Rick and me interested in weather—Rick's my brother and he's the chief meteorologist for News Eighty-Two."

"I understand about the family thing," I nodded, then wished I'd kept my head still. The ibuprofen was wearing off already. It made me wish for Uncle Kevis, who was a physician, but I couldn't call any family members or they'd know where I was.

Better to let the bruises heal on their own, or I could get hauled back home and dragged to a marriage ceremony on Kifirin. That was the reason I was working a job on Earth now—because I didn't want to be married to someone who felt entitled to be my husband.

"Silver," Vann barked, making me jump. I turned to look—his head was stuck in the break room doorway. "We have another tip—police investigated a bar fight the other night and they're still scratching their heads over what caused it. Haul Mike away from his desk and go check it out."

My head throbbed as I stood up; Farin handed me a glass of water and her personal bottle of aspirin. I took more than was polite, determined to buy her another bottle to replace what I'd taken.

I wasn't looking forward to spending the afternoon with Mike, but I didn't have a choice. At least Mike wouldn't press me to have dinner with him afterward.

* * *

Kordevik

I managed to hide the smoke I'd breathed after Mike informed me we were going to Clawdia's. Somebody, somewhere, had leaked information on the bar fight.

Fuck
.

Watson wasn't scheduled for duty until eight, so he'd be left out of the initial investigation. I worried about Lexsi, though. Didn't give a damn about Mike—he was just as much a slave driver as Vann was. My worry was that whoever was on duty would make note of who'd come to ask questions, and then notify one of the vamps, who'd then attempt to place compulsion.

Lexsi, unless I missed my guess, wouldn't be fazed by any of that.

That, in the vamp world, spelled trouble. Maybe she could fend off three human attackers in a parking lot, but vamps?

That was another story.

Claudia Platt, who owned Clawdia's, was a werewolf, but she'd been around the block a few times. Had vamp lovers in the past, too, if gossip were to be believed. Nobody spread that around in her bar, though, unless they wanted to be removed and banned from the premises—until the end of time.

At least Watson and Mason were still holed up in my condo. I didn't think Mason would live long if he went back to his place. I figured Granger had marked him for a takedown.

The last I heard, Granger's mistress was still in the hospital and still alive, but I didn't think she had long to live once she left. If she had any sense, she'd get the hell out of the states during daylight hours and travel to a foreign country to disappear.

If we were lucky, Mike wouldn't think the story worth pursuing. Plus, if any regulars saw me driving the nosy reporters around, I could be added to the list of unwelcome customers. I slowed down to round a corner; we were getting closer to Clawdia's and my worry ramped up with every inch we traveled toward it.

* * *

Lexsi

"What the hell caused that?" Mike zoned in on the brick building across the street from Clawdia's—the bar in question. Brick had been knocked off the underlying concrete, and in some places, even the concrete was gouged out, as if someone had repeatedly driven a vehicle into it.

I'd seen that kind of damage before; it spelled vampires to me. I wasn't about to say that, though. Mike was blissfully unaware of the existence of supernatural creatures. It needed to stay that way, too.

Kory was slow to get out of the car; Mike was already snapping at Chet to get images of the damaged brick wall.

"Are you sure that was part of the bar fight?" I asked.

"Sure as hell is—I read the police report," Mike said. He hadn't bothered to pass that information to the rest of us, so we were following him in the dark.

"Were they driving their car into the building?" Jessie asked.

"Nobody would say anything about how that happened," Mike grinned. "That's why we're here—to find out."

Mike smelled a story; I worried that he was sticking his nose into something he shouldn't. Vamps on Earth weren't happy about being outed on the six o'clock news, and everything I'd seen so far spelled exactly that.

Of course, he was looking at this from a purely human perspective, because that's all he knew. My headache, as a result, was threatening to return. My concern ramped up, too, because I felt we had eyes on us.

Unfriendly eyes. I wanted to shiver, I felt so uncomfortable.

Kory also appeared uncomfortable, pacing back and forth as Chet readied his camera and Jessie fussed with the sound equipment.

Mike was already seeing this as a coup—he wanted to upstage Vann and this was a way to do it. I couldn't imagine anyone not being curious as to how large chunks and gouges had mysteriously appeared in a building across the street, during and after a bar fight.

* * *

It was all caught on camera—Mike being tossed out of Clawdia's Bar after attempting to ask the bartender and patrons about the night in question.

* * *

The fact that Mike was thrown out of the bar only raised more questions with Vann, who was now determined to get to the bottom of this story. My headache worsened while Mike and I were subjected to Vann's rant—that
he
was important and if
they
refused to answer
his
questions, they'd be sorry, blah, blah, blah.

It made me wonder, in a less painful moment, whether those who'd attacked Anita and me had anything to do with the bar fight at Clawdia's. Fights were rather prominent lately; I'd been involved in two, after all.

The rant ended with Vann informing us that a second visit to Clawdia's was planned the following day—with him leading the charge while the rest of us followed as backup.

* * *

I wasn't looking forward to driving home in Aunt Bree's TinyCar after my workday ended. I just wanted to be home, in bed, after taking half a bottle of painkiller. I found Kory leaning against the TinyCar and dwarfing it with his height. Arms were crossed over his chest, too, as if he disapproved of everything about me.

"I hope you're going straight home," he huffed, taking my key fob away and opening the driver's side door.

"I wish I was there now," I breathed, rubbing my forehead and hoping for the thousandth time that I could get rid of the headache.

"Call in sick tomorrow," he said as I sat wearily behind the wheel.

"I can't. Vann has already decreed that we're going back to that bar to demand answers, just like the idiot he is."

"You're joking?" Kory's hand stopped halfway to mine; he'd intended to give the key fob back.

"Not kidding. If you don't want to go back there, I wouldn't blame you for calling in sick," I said. "I think he's messing with stuff he shouldn't, because he wants to throw his weight around."

"That's Vann, full to the hairline with his own self-importance," Kory placed the fob in my hand. "The bar management doesn't have to answer his questions; they've already talked to the police," he added. "Mike had the police report."

"Yeah," I acknowledged. I was exhausted from fighting the headache and listening to Mike and Vann all day. Closing my eyes and leaning my head on the wheel for a few minutes was more than tempting.

"Look, you should go home," Kory said. "Get some rest and get rid of that headache. It's hard enough to see you so bruised up as it is. A headache on top of that just makes it worse."

"Well, you go home and think up your excuse to call in sick tomorrow," I replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed by genuine sympathy from him. "This will be a debacle, no matter how you look at it. Save yourself." I allowed him to close the door before I started the car.

The drive home was going to be torture.

* * *

Kordevik

I stood there, watching her drive away and cursing myself for not taking her home. She probably had a mild concussion after the attack and had spent the day at work, because Vann and Mike couldn't pick up after themselves without an audience.

I had to contact Watson, too, to let him know about Vann's intentions. I had no idea what he'd do about it, but he needed the warning. Watson could go to Claudia with the information if he wanted—he was scheduled to work the late shift at the bar tonight.

Jerking keys from my pocket, I headed for my Jeep. Time to go home and do damage control.

* * *

"You look pissed." Watson pulled a beer from my fridge and flipped the top off before handing it to me.

"I have a message for you, and you can take it to your boss if you want," I said before tipping the bottle back and draining half of it.

"What message?" Watson went still.