Three Wishes (8 page)

When Asta didn’t respond, he spoke into the awkward silence. “Just business. Just a cup of coffee, and we can talk business.” A nervous smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Okay.” Asta shook his hand and felt a twinge of guilt as the man’s eyes sparkled in excitement. Great. Now she had a lewd stalker demon that she was having very improper thoughts about
and
a human admirer.

Phelps made small talk about the weather and various sports teams as they walked to the café. Espresso in hand, Asta sat across from him at a little table and listened, her eyes glazing over. This human was... boring. Although that was kind of unfair. He was probably perfectly nice; it’s just that after verbally sparring with Dar all day, this one-sided discussion about the White Sox seemed rather flat.

Time to change the subject, find out what she could from this man and let him down gently. “I’m not very knowledgeable about cyber security. Can you tell me about your company?”

A bit of an abrupt change in conversation, but Phelps didn’t seem to notice. The man practically glowed with pride. “We help companies, both large and small, guard against security breaches. Last year, over thirty major firms had their data warehouses breached with the Whippet virus, and nearly a hundred-thousand credit cards were subject to identity theft. Every one of our clients remained secure from the virus. Companies and institutions that subscribe to our software have remained safe from over ninety-nine percent of attacks in the last three years.”

This was a bit more interesting than baseball. “Wow.” Asta didn’t have to feign admiration. “And all the other companies at the conference do the same thing?”

Phelps grinned. “They try. Some have other specialties, but none of them have our record of success.”

It wasn’t just a sales pitch; this man truly believed in his product and clearly loved his line of work. Now, how to subtly ask him what the ramifications would be if a demon collapsed the conference center on their heads, or blew up the building. There had to be some reason beyond general murder for a demon to target this particular conference.

“Tell me about
your
company.” The man leaned forward, taking a quick sip of his coffee as he watched Asta intently.

The angel floundered. She’d never been good at this sort of thing. For a brief moment, she thought of Dar and envied him his quick-on-the-feet lying skills. “Um, well we’re a small division of a larger company, fairly autonomous since we operate remotely. We’re tasked with guarding... locations—entryways and that sort of thing. We make sure the wrong sort aren’t where they’re not supposed to be and deal with the situation if they are.”

The man gave her a warm smile. “So a different sort, but nevertheless a similar business to mine. Security guards, bouncers, and the like.”

“Yes.” Well, sort of. Celestial security guards and bouncers, but the similarity was there. Of course, trespassing humans didn’t generally get their heads removed by a bouncer.

“Beyond financial data and customer records, you still might find our products of value. If you do any security for high-profile individuals where the risk of an assassination attempt or kidnapping might occur, we can safeguard your plans, routes, etc.”

Assassination and kidnapping. Could that be what the demon was planning? A conference such as this might attract high-level politicians, military leaders, or other influential individuals.

“How long have you lived in Chicago? I mean, I assume you live here. I can’t think you’d travel out of town to a conference on something you profess not to need.” He flushed red from his neck up to the roots of his blond hair and stared down at the contents of his coffee cup. Smooth talking was definitely not this man’s strong suit.

Asta smiled, comparing his flustered interest with Dar’s bold confidence. “I haven’t lived in Chicago my whole life, but I’ve been here long enough that I feel like I can call it home.”

Phelps returned her smile, the red dropping to a light shade of pink. “I grew up in southern California—well, my parents lived there. I actually spent a lot of time with my grandmother in New York. Back and forth like that, I ended up with platinum status by the age of ten from all the frequent flyer points.”

She gave a polite laugh, but saw the sadness in his eyes—a sadness she understood all too well. “I didn’t really know my parents. There was a big war right after I was born that split my parents up. My sire died in battle when I was very young. The head of my choir—I mean, my village—took charge of my upbringing.”

“Wow, I had no idea.” Phelps shook his head. What country are you from?”

Asta thought frantically through the various human skirmishes in the last three decades. “Rwanda.”

Phelps caught his breath and reached out a hand to clasp hers. “I read about how terrible things were there. I’m glad you made it out alive. You must be very grateful to your village leader for protecting you. How did you manage to get out of the country? Your accent is perfect, so I assume you must have immigrated when you were young.”

Now things were getting tricky. How did demons do this? All these lies to keep straight and remember—it practically gave Asta an anxiety attack trying to spin a believable story to this man, let alone try and get back on topic.

“There was... a missionary group that sponsored me. They had someone who brought me here. I was an adult, but young compared to the others. I just... well, I learn languages easily.” Aaru help her if the man asked her for details about life in Rwanda, or specifics about the missionary group. She needed to change this topic from her childhood before she completely tripped herself up in lies. “You don’t happen to know if someone famous is going to be at the conference this week, do you?”

It was the worst segue ever.

Phelps nodded knowingly. “Ahh, testing your own security, I see. Now I know why you’re at the conference. Don’t worry; I haven’t heard anything about someone famous attending. Whoever your client is, his or her identity hasn’t been leaked.”

Either that theory was bust or this human just wasn’t connected enough to know about a high-profile attendee. She’d most likely exhausted everything this man knew. No sense in leading him on further. Asta pushed back her chair and started to rise.

“Tell me about the village leader who raised you. What was he like?”

Shoot. Asta looked around frantically, wishing that Dar would burst through the café door and give her an excuse to leave.

“He’s kind but has high expectations. I know he’s proud of what I’m doing here, and he thinks I have potential. I try to live up to his expectations, but I often fail. He’s surprisingly patient about my shortcomings.”

Sheesh, how to describe an ancient archangel? Gabriel was all those things, but putting how his patronage had affected her into words wasn’t easy.

Phelps nodded. “My grandmother was the only one who seemed to be proud of me, the only one who saw my potential. She died when I was in college, but I’d like to think she’d be proud of what I’ve done.” A shadow passed over the man’s face. “I hope she’d be proud. It was all for the greater good, after all.”

This was surreal. For a hundred years, she’d guarded these humans, but she’d never sat down and had this type of conversation with one of them. How odd that his and her upbringings had similar themes, as different as they were.

“She sounds like a wonderful lady. You were lucky to have had her.”

The man’s eyes misted, and he took a quick sip of coffee. “Yes. I received some memorabilia from her estate after she passed—nothing of significant worth, but of great emotional value. I carry the items with me when I travel, to remind me of her faith in me. It gives me something to strive towards as I work.”

Yes, very similar themes, although she carried no mementos of Gabriel with her. In Aaru, nothing physical survived more than a few weeks. Mementos and trophies had to be kept elsewhere or they deteriorated into nothingness.

“I’d love to show them to you.”

The proposal sounded innocent enough, but Asta knew a trip to his hotel room to see such personal items would cross a line. A century of keeping her distance shouldn’t be compromised, no matter how much sympathy this man generated in her heart. She smiled to lessen the sting and shook her head, scooting her chair backwards and rising to her feet.

“I’m sorry, but I have a long night ahead of me. Thank you for the espresso, Mr. Phelps. Can I ask a favor of you? Could you let me know if you see or hear anything that might impact physical security at the conference?”

He stood and reached out to shake her hand. “Of course. Do you have a card with your phone number?”

Drat. She seriously needed to get a cell phone or something if she was going to be interacting with humans, although with less than one week left, it hardly seemed worth the effort. “No, but you’ll be able to contact me. I’ll be at the conference all week.”

That was totally the wrong thing to say. He was glowing again, and not from embarrassment this time. Darn it all. He thought she was implying she wanted to see him again, and probably in a romantic fashion.

“I’ll definitely make every effort to seek you out.” The man’s smile nearly reached his ears. “And, Asta, please call me Carter. My father is Mr. Phelps. I haven’t earned that privilege yet.”

Now she was going to have two beings trailing around after her—one human, the other a demon. Ah well, nothing she could do about that now.

“Thank you, Carter. Have a pleasant evening.” Asta fled the café and walked along State Street, pausing at the bridge. What was she doing? Letting a demon kiss her and now leading a human to think she might want a romantic relationship with him. This had to be worse than drinking coffee and hoarding designer clothing. Her vibration levels would take centuries to recover from tonight’s activities.

Breathing deep and watching the Chicago River flow out toward Lake Michigan, Asta shook her head. Her path to enlightenment may have suffered a minor set back, but it was only temporary. She’d catch the nefarious demon who was plotting against the conference in her territory, sin just a little bit more, then leave it all behind.

Chapter 6

T
his convention had more humans packed into a geometric area than Dar had ever seen. He felt like someone had stuffed him into a can of spam, tightly pressed against other men in suits, and women in smart attire. With all the people, and computer equipment humming away, it had to have been at least a hundred degrees in the room. Even a twenty-foot ceiling couldn’t compensate for the broiling temperature. Dar considered ditching the jacket, and possibly the rest of his stolen attire, and wandering around naked, but he’d probably get thrown out in under five minutes. He should have stolen one of the wedding dresses instead. At least he could have lopped off the bottom part of the skirt and allowed adequate airflow. What idiot decided this was appropriate apparel for a man?

At least there was tons of free shit here. So far he’d managed to fill the little canvas bag he’d been given with several USB sticks, half a dozen rubber stress toys, thirty pens, and a little device that sprayed water while whirring a fan. That had come in handy, but the battery hadn’t lasted more than twenty minutes—which was about the time it had taken him to move ten feet in this fucking place.

She was here—his angel—somewhere at the opposite end of the giant room. Who knows where the fuck the other demon was. Two hours and he hadn’t sensed him at all.

He shuffled forward another few feet and cursed under his breath. How the angel thought she was going to catch her prey in this room was beyond him. Narrowing his eyes, he looked upward, wondering if she’d taken to wing to avoid the crowd. It’s what he would have done. Actually, he would have just started blasting his way through the humans. Or morphed into his rat form and taken a short cut between everyone’s legs.

It was a reasonable idea, Dar thought, before moving another few feet. Humans seemed irrationally afraid of rodents. A two-foot long rat running around the aisles would clear the place pretty damned fast. If this crowd didn’t start moving soon, he was going to do it.

A large man to Dar’s left stumbled, knocking the demon sideways. People staggered like a line of dominos ready to fall. Damn it all. This sucked. Forget the rat form, the blasting idea was starting to sound better and better.

“Sorry.”

Dar looked up into very familiar blue eyes that widened in shock as they met his. Wyatt—his sister’s human toy. Why she allowed her humans to run around like this was a mystery. He should be back in Maryland, locked in a cage or duct taped in the basement, but no, here he was with his own tote bag bulging with goodies.

“You’re not allowed to harm me.” Wyatt tried to back away from Dar, but didn’t get far.

“I don’t intend to harm you.” The demon huffed. “Although, if these people don’t get moving soon, I may start indiscriminately ripping off limbs. What the fuck is with this crowd?”

“We’re in line for the Genus Micro freebie. Everything thins out once you’re past their booth.”

Genus Micro. That had been the company who’d put on the swank reception last night. Dar suddenly became more tolerant of the horde. If last night was any indication of their marketing budget, their swag was going to be worth waiting for.

“I didn’t see you at their reception at The Wit last night,” Dar commented. If he was stuck here with Wyatt for the next hour, he might as well make small talk.

“Uhhh, yeah.” Wyatt laughed. “I wasn’t exactly invited. I’m kind of the competition, although, compared to Genus Micro, I’m small potatoes.”

Dar craned his neck and saw a woman in an evening gown handing items out to the throng of humans. Almost there. “So I’m assuming you plan on sneaking around their booth, gathering what intel you can, and stealing their ideas?”

Humans weren’t so different than demons, and Wyatt had proved in the past that he wasn’t above breaking laws to further his own interests.

“Sort of.” Wyatt shot Dar a defensive look. “It’s not a crime to check out the competition.”