Temping is Hell (15 page)

That made him look up. “One of your what?”

“You’re a nerd. That makes you one of mine… It’s a long story,” Kate prevaricated. “Anyway, I um… I wondered if I could ask you a few questions. About, erm, the contracts.”

Instantly, his expression shuttered with suspicion. “I do not think that would be a good idea, Kate,” he said in a low voice. “The less you know, the safer.”

“Well, I already know quite a bit,” she admitted, and he looked both scared and kind of ill. Which was how she felt, so she could relate. “At least some of it.”

“What, exactly?” he asked softly.

She glanced around. The guys were working steadily away—except for a few who were eating Ho Ho’s with almost carnal delight—and they didn’t seem to be paying much attention, but she didn’t want to chance it. She shuffled Slim off to a corner. “I know that these contracts sign people’s souls,” she whispered.

He didn’t admit it, but he looked guilty and miserable. Then his eyes narrowed. “May… may I ask a question?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Why aren’t you…” He paused, then looked uncomfortable.

“Possessed?” she guessed. “Or insane?”

Slim looked embarrassed, but grateful. “Yes. Why is that?”

Fuck if I know
. But that wasn’t going to get her any answers.

He stared at her expectantly. She looked sly—at least, she
hoped
she looked sly—and murmured, “Why do you think?”

“Ah. He signed you.” The relief was palpable. “That makes sense.”

“Well, he won’t answer any of my questions,” Kate said, letting Slim’s assumption ride. “So I was hoping you could clear up a few things for me.”

“I will try,” Slim said, then smiled shyly. “Shoot.”

“Did Thomas, what, sign all these people? The ones whose names are on the documents, I mean?”

“Oh, no,” Slim said, and Kate felt some of her muscles unknot. “No, these are all signed by someone else. These aren’t his.”

There was some relief in that. “Are they all people from around here?”

“Some hundreds of years ago, in fact.”

More muscles relaxed. If he didn’t sign these guys, and some of the signatures were from hundreds of years ago, he was doing research. Most of these people were probably dead. How much harm could that be?

So what’s he looking for? And why?

“What does the symbol mean?” she asked. “The one we’re looking for?”

“It’s a special sort of contract. A power base,” Slim said. “It’s rare, but very effective. When a signatory is part of a base, the person who signs him shares a lot more power—but he absorbs all the signatory’s power if he is killed.”

“Huh. Why would he do that?”

“Only someone with a lot of signatories, and a lot of power, would bother with it,” Slim said, his voice low and gossipy. “And there are twelve signatories—an unusually large base.”

“Why don’t more, er,
signers
,” she said, unsure of her terminology, “have power bases? Seems like they’d be handy.”

“It’s a dark ritual. Even by our standards,” Slim said.

Suddenly Kate realized—she didn’t know how Slim got over here, or even whose side he was on. And the way he said “our standards” suggested that he was into some pretty nasty stuff.

He certainly seemed nice, but obviously she wasn’t a sterling judge of character.

“Dark… how?” she asked tentatively.

“You don’t want to know.” He shuddered a little. “The demon lords have forbidden it, as well, because it makes signatories too powerful.”

“Sounds like whoever signed this thing is pretty powerful, then. And going rogue,” she mused, making a mental note to ask Prue about demon lords. “Or at least doing something seriously shady.”

Slim looked around furtively. “I believe this base has the approval of a demon lord, because it is for personal protection only.” Slim frowned. “As long as the other twelve are alive, whoever signed these people cannot be killed. Their souls will support him until he regenerates.”

Kate let out a low whistle. “Handy. So… why are we looking for these guys?”

Slim shrugged. “I can conjecture, but that’s all it would be. And I’ve learned the hard way not to dig too deeply in the Overseer’s affairs… or his employers.”

She frowned. Why would a guy go through all that trouble, with such a gnarly ritual… just to protect his own life? Maybe he was afraid of dying, she thought.

“Slim, don’t people who are signed go to Hell?”

He looked stricken, then nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so.”

“And that must really suck, right?” she said. So did the guy who signed all these people just not want to go to Hell, or what? And if so—why was Thomas looking for this guy’s power base? “I guess they don’t call it Hell because it
sounds
scary.”

Did
Thomas
want this guy dead?

Slim sighed. His expression made a Bassett hound look cheerful. “I’m so sorry,” he said. He looked like he wanted to hug her, and to her surprise, he reached out, patting her shoulder. “If it is any consolation, I believe signing your soul can bring you unnatural longevity. So there’s that, at least.”

She blinked, then remembered, she’d told him
she’d
signed her soul.

He thought she was going to Hell.

“That’s sweet,” she said reflexively. “Um, thanks.” She paused a beat. “Aren’t you signed, too?”

He jerked, obviously startled. “Then… you don’t know?”

“Know what?” she asked, but before he could answer, her cell phone vibrated. She glanced at the face of it.

It was Thomas’s number, and a text.
Come up to my office. We need to talk.

She let out a deep sigh.

“Ah, crap,” she breathed. “It’s the boss. I have to go.”

“Kate,” Slim said. “Don’t ask him what we are. All right? And don’t let him know how much you know. Don’t let
anybody
know what you’ve learned.”

Since she really wasn’t planning to, she agreed easily. As she started to walk toward the elevators, she turned back.

“Slim, how well do you know Thomas Kestrel?”

Slim shrugged, looking uncomfortable again. “Not well. My contract is through the Overseer, not Kestrel.”

“But you know people, and you know what’s going on around here,” she said. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“I’m sure he does.” Slim’s words were tight.

She swallowed. Then she whispered, “Just how scared should I be?”

If it was physically possible, he looked even sadder.

“I think it’s a little late to wonder, Kate. Don’t you?”

Wow
, she thought. She was in some serious shit. And given her track record, that was saying something.

Chapter Thirteen

Thomas waited on the rooftop garden, barely noticing the spectacular view of San Francisco and the Bay Bridge. It was a little windy—at forty stories up, that wasn’t surprising—but the sun was shining. And the garden was still in bloom, full of azaleas, climbing roses, and all sorts of flowers he couldn’t name.

There was some weird, arcane, feng shui–related reason for why the garden was up there, and Thomas hadn’t questioned it when he’d given the plans the okay. For now, he figured it was a persuasive arena, idyllic… much less imposing than his office. He got the feeling Kate was going to dig in her heels on this one, and he was going to use whatever advantage he had to convince her to work for him.

Just work for you, right?

Kate stepped out, and he grinned when he watched her mouth drop open. “Holy cow. I didn’t even know this was up here.”

“Few people do,” he said. “Since you have to go through my office. It’s a nice day; I thought we could talk up here. If you don’t mind?”

She was still taking in the view. “What? No. Sure.” Then she shifted, her gaze going from dazzled to wary in about two seconds. “What did you want to talk about?”

Better to ease into it. She was tense as a piano wire. “How’s it going with the Basement Boys?”

That’s what she was calling them—the Basement Boys. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d given them all matching T-shirts.

She shrugged, gingerly sitting on a decorative wrought-iron bench. “We’ve got eight names, and I’ll bet we have a ninth by the end of the day. If we keep this up, my contract will be finished and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

I’m not staying here
, her expression said. Hell, she looked ready to bolt out the door at the first opportunity.

Well, he’d had tough negotiations before. If he could arm-wrestle with multi-billion dollar corporations, he could certainly hire a secretary.

He took a seat at the far end, not crowding her. “Have you given any thought to my offer?”

“Offer?”

“To work for me,” he reminded her.

“You mean, to be your personal assistant or Girl Friday or whatever?” She let out a nervous laugh. “What, you were serious about that?”

“Serious as a tax audit,” he drawled. “I mean it, Kate. This is an official job offer.”

Another nervous laugh—and now she wasn’t looking at his eyes. He inched just a little closer to her. She was wearing a seafoam green sweater and another ugly skirt, something that resembled oatmeal and came down to her calves.

He bet she had nice legs, if she ever showed them.

Focus, man.
This was business.

“Um, I really don’t think that would work out.” Her gaze shot to the stairway door. She was jittery as a wild horse.

“You’re good,” he reassured her. “You’ve got—what did you call it?—mad filing skills, and that’s just a start. You work well with people.”
And demons. Let’s not forget demons.
“You’re proactive, and you think outside the box.”

“Okay, enough with the corporate platitudes,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. “Keep this up, and you’re going to say that I leverage opportunities to maximize cost effectiveness or something. I don’t think you can come back from something like that.”

He chuckled. “See? This is why I want to hire you.”

“Because I have no verbal filter?”

“Because you’re fearless and you speak your mind,” he said. “Also, because you kick ass, mine included. You get the job done, and that’s what I need.”

“That’s flattering,” she said, but her full lips were pulled tight. “Thanks. But, really… no thanks.”

He studied her for a minute. “Okay. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Nothing. What are you talking about?”

Too defensive. He knew her well enough to notice that. He frowned, leaning forward. “You’re acting strangely, Kate. What’s going on?”

She laughed again—that nervous, thready sound, nothing like her usual husky voice. “Doesn’t anybody say no to you?”

“Not without a damned good reason.”

The laugh dropped, and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to work for you. Isn’t that a good reason?”

He ignored the fact that the words stung. “I hadn’t realized you were so unhappy.”

“I took the job because my family needs the money and I didn’t want the guys abused,” she snapped. “What about that makes you think I’d do cartwheels to keep working here?”

“I told you what happened,” he said. “And they haven’t been mistreated since, have they?”

“It’s been, like, a week,” she muttered.

He took a deep breath. How to explain—
they’re not even people, they’re demons, the treatment they get here is a fraction of the punishment they would have gotten if they were back in Hell
?

No way without sounding crazy, he realized.

“Okay. What’s it going to take for you to agree to this? Because I am determined to have you, damn it.”

Kate stood up, eyes blazing. “I’m not something you
own
, pal.”

He growled, rubbing his face with his hands. He’d screwed up before—nobody succeeded in business without a few setbacks. But he couldn’t remember doing it this gracelessly, this monumentally, in years.

This woman drives me nuts.

He took a different tack. “You said your family needed money. If you walk away from this, do you really think you’re going to be able to find a job that pays even a fraction of what I’m offering here? The way the job market is right now?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Yes, but will they?”

“Is that a threat?” She took a step closer, her hair whipping in a gust of wind. For a second, she looked like some avenging Irish goddess.

“No, it’s not a damned threat. I don’t work that way.”

She grimaced. “Sure you don’t.”

What was he doing? He found himself running a distracted hand through his hair—the damned stuff was probably sticking up like Einstein’s. He only did that when he was stressed. Where was his legendary charm? “At what point did you become convinced I’m an asshole?”

“I don’t trust you.” Kate’s green eyes were bright, and her voice was flat. The woman pulled no punches.

Yeah, that statement hurt, too. But honestly, in his position, he couldn’t blame her.

He stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Good. I’m glad you’re suspicious.”

Her eyes widened at that.

“I think that you’re loyal. I like that quality about you. I need an assistant who knows what she’s doing, who I can trust with the secrets of my companies. You already know more than I’d meant you to,” he said with a rueful laugh. “And you found it out on your own. I’m trusting you, Kate. Maybe if you work with me, see what I’m really like… maybe you could learn to be loyal to me, too.”

For a second, he saw a flash of yearning—and confusion. Then she shook her head.

“So, you’d trust me with all your secrets?” she said slowly. “You’d explain what’s really going on?”

He gritted his teeth, then made sure his face was blank. “Sure,” he lied.

She skewered him with a glare.

“Gradually,” he amended, and it felt like a knot loosened in his chest. “Hell’s bells, you
are
gonna keep me honest, aren’t you?”

“Did you know you sound more Southern when you’re upset?”

“I do?” He paused. “Huh. I do.”

She looked out, past the flowers, and began wandering down the path; he found himself walking with her, matching her gait. She let out a long sigh, crossing her arms as if she were cold.

“I wouldn’t do anything I thought was wrong,” she said slowly. “I mean it, Thomas. If I see something illegal, or something that strikes me as off…”

He nodded again, feeling triumphant.
“I wouldn’t ask you to.” He’d just keep her away from that anyway, for the time being. The important part was getting his business life in order, getting her to handle the piddly-shit business details that were currently bogging him down.

From there, he could handle the killing bit on his own.

“All right, then,” she whispered, and it sounded like she was being walked to the guillotine. “I’ll be your secretary.”

“Executive assistant,” he said, suppressing a smile. He held out a hand. “Thanks, Kate. I mean that.”

She took his hand. Hers felt cool, and shook a little.

He reached out, stroking her arm briskly. “You okay? Anything I can do?”

She looked… forlorn. But determined. “No. I can do this.”

Her expression was so damned sad. Not like Maggie’s theatrical histrionics. This was a bone-deep sorrow, one he immediately responded to. For a second, he wanted to gather her up, tuck her head under his chin, and just hold her tight until that expression melted away.

Then, maybe he could do something else to cheer her up…

This is just business
.

He cleared his throat. “My consultant Yagi will have a contract for you to sign. You’ll be taking over some of Maggie’s duties, too, so you might want to talk to her, as well. At least she knows who you’ll need to get in touch with.”

“Okay.” She nodded again, looking like a bobble-head for a second. He saw her swallow hard. “Okay,” she repeated.

“It’ll be all right, Kate,” he heard himself say, for no good reason.

She smiled weakly. “Sure it will. Boss.”

She walked to the door, disappearing down the stairway.

Yagi emerged a few minutes later, as Thomas still stood in the same place, taking in the view—wondering why working for him was the cause for such utter dejection.

“My private investigator has located the first signatory,” Yagi said, then frowned, studying Thomas’s face. “Kate took the job, then?”

“She took the job.” Thomas nodded.

“Interesting.” Yagi paused for a second. “I give her one week before all hell breaks loose.”

…

I took the job.

Kate grimaced at herself. For a brief second there, she’d melted a little. Thomas had seemed so lonely, so entreating. It was hard to remember that the guy was signing people’s souls.

You don’t really have proof of that, though. You have proof that he’s
looking
for people who have signed their souls
, she reminded herself.

Still, it was foolish to think that it was all a big fat misunderstanding. And she’d keep reminding herself of that until she had solid proof otherwise. Which was why she’d taken the damned job in the first place. All the positive thinking in the world wouldn’t save her butt if he really was a bad guy intent on killing her once her usefulness was done.

She navigated her way to Maggie’s office and knocked on the open door.

Maggie looked less perky than usual, glowering at her cherry red iPhone as the shrill screams of
Angry Birds
resounded. “So you took the job,” she said, without even bothering to look up. Her voice was sour, her normally glass-smooth forehead furrowed. “Well, bless your heart.”

“Um, thanks.” Bless your heart? Who said that?

Southern people, she reminded herself. If Thomas’s drawl became more pronounced when he was unhappy, then Maggie’s Southern side was leaping to the fore like a linebacker—and she had to be supremely pissed. “Thomas told me to touch base with you and collect anything you might have been working on.”

She seriously doubted that he’d trusted Maggie with anything top secret, certainly not life or death… or afterlife.

Personally, she wouldn’t trust Maggie with ordering lunch.

Maggie shut off her phone and stood, strutting on tottering four-inch stilettos. Despite the peaches-sweet smile she’d pasted on, there was definitely murder in her eyes. “You know, we got off on the wrong foot, you and I.”

Oh, crap. Maggie the bitch, she could handle. Maggie the bitch-trying-to-be-sweet… not so much.

“I’m sure it’s not going to be a problem. I’ll just…” Kate paused.
Take your job
. Or at least, the job Maggie thought she had. “I’m just transitioning in to cover the new scope of the job classification.”

Ack. And you accused Thomas of piling on the corporate speak!
She saw now why he did it. You could say a ton without saying anything, and it was the least personal language in the world.

“Oh, sugar, it’s fine.” Maggie’s smile broadened to Joker proportions. “I, of all people, know that Thomas can be distracted by a pretty face. And you’re certainly not the first woman he’s hired just because he was feeling a little… frisky, let’s say?”

The statement was so unexpected, Kate stared at her, her mouth dropping open a little. “Seriously? This is the tack you’re taking.
Seriously.
”

“Now, Kate, no need to be self-conscious. It happens enough that nobody’s going to comment on it… much,” she added, with a sharp, smug little dig. “Besides, these things never last that long, so you won’t have to worry about listening to anyone talking about how you slept your way up the ladder. Nobody says anything for the first month, at least, so it should be dandy until you’re… well, until the
scope
changes on your
job classification.”

Kate gritted her teeth until she thought her jaw would pop. “I don’t know what you think I was hired to do, but as far as I know, I’m supposed to schedule his meetings and get that snake pit of a credenza managed and try to give him some semblance of a filing system,” she said slowly. “So I just stopped by to see what you were working on, get some contact information, and see if you had a key to his files so I can get to work.”

There. She’d shoehorned that last bit about the key in, hoping that Maggie would be so obsessed with her whole
you’re sleeping with Thomas!
fixation that she’d never notice. Of course, it was doubtful that Maggie had a key to Thomas’s private files, but Kate was reminded of something that Al had said—Maggie was dumb, but not that dumb. And Maggie was nosy. Kate bet that Maggie probably snooped plenty of places she wasn’t supposed to.

Maggie pulled her mouth into a tight line. Then she grabbed a box and started throwing papers and files pell-mell into it. “You want to keep up the charade, honey, go right ahead,” she said, grinding out every word. “But don’t think he’ll ever trust you. Don’t think that you’ll ever be important to him. And believe you me, the man will
never
love you.”