Personal Demon Read online

  As dinner stretched well past the hour mark, I relaxed enough to take a closer, more critical look at Jaz. If I had a type, he wasn't it. The mop of curls to his jawline was longer than I liked. His eyes were too big, too soft. His mouth was too wide, too sensual. His build was slender, almost graceful. The overall picture was...I hate to say feminine, because there was nothing girlie about him, but there was a pretty-boy quality that was a far cry from--

  I stopped myself. Karl wasn't my type either--too suave, too polished, too old.

  But as for the puzzle that was Jaz, I solved it over dessert. When he twisted in his chair, the angle was just right to ignite a memory and I knew what he reminded me of: the angel Gabriel at my grandmother's church.

  I'm sure there's something sacrilegious about having a crush on an angel, but I'd only been six or seven at the time. Gran was a proper society lady, one who had expected her son to grow up and marry a debutante. When he brought home an Indian girl from college, she hadn't been disappointed or angry, but simply, I think, confused. Like most women of her class and generation, this just wasn't a possibility she'd considered. But he was obviously in love, and the girl was as bright and beautiful as any debutante, so Gran gave her blessing.

  She loved us as much as she did any of her grandchildren. Even after the divorce that didn't change. If there was any problem with Gran, it was only her need to make us feel we belonged. Hence the angel Gabriel.

  When we visited, I always went to church with her because I knew it pleased her and it pleased my mother. Above the pulpit was this enormous painting of flaxen-haired, pale-skinned angels, and the artist had decided to single Gabriel out by making him dark-haired and brown-skinned.

  To my grandmother, Gabriel served as proof for me that I was just as welcome in God's house as anyone, so she never failed to rhapsodize over how beautiful he was, and how being different from the others made him all the more special. A heavy-handed lesson, but her heart was in the right place. I spent many hours in that church staring at Gabriel with his soulful eyes and dark ringlets.

  So the mystery of Jaz's attractiveness was solved. But it didn't make my heart patter any less when he turned his soulful eyes my way. The face of an angel covering a mind more inclined to devilry. Under the circumstances, it might be just what I needed.

  AS WE LEFT the restaurant, Jaz said, "So you're an Exustio? Or is it Aspicio?"

  "Expisco," I said.

  "Exustio is fire," Sonny said. "Aspicio is vision."

  "Damn half-demon names. All sound like Latin to me."

  "Could that be because they are Latin?"

  "Smart ass. Even Guy didn't know what an Exp--Expisco was. Had to get Bianca to look it up, and she had a hell of a time."

  "It's a very rare subtype," I said.

  "And a weird one." He glanced at me. "No offense, I just mean most of you get some elemental power or enhanced senses. Being able to sense trouble just, well, doesn't seem to fit."

  "Full-blooded demons usually have special powers plus chaos sensors. Most half-demons get the powers without the sensors. I just get the sensors."

  "Huh." He walked for at least ten steps in silence, which told me something was wrong. Before I could ask, he said, "The reason I'm bringing it up is that, well, Guy's...not convinced."

  "That I am what I say I am?"

  He nodded. "I wanted to give you a heads-up. He's going to test you, and soon."

  HOPE

  EASY RIDER

  We cut through the pedestrian-only Lincoln Road Mall. The sun had set and the temperature dropped to a balmy seventy, though the humidity lingered. On the promenade, no one was pulling on warmer clothing. The barely-there bottoms, plunging necklines and bad boob jobs were on full display as the nightlife began to prowl, skirting the palms and umbrella tables as they zeroed in on their favorite club, hoping being early might get them inside.

  Jaz kept up a steady travelogue, pointing out the sights along the way, including the drop-dead gorgeous guys lounging on tables outside Score, every one of them worthy of a magazine cover, and not one of them likely to return any female attention. There weren't as many gay bars in South Beach as there had been, Jaz said. They'd revitalized the area, made it the hottest place in Miami, then moved on. Many others had moved on too, and South Beach no longer had the cachet of a few years ago, but that didn't bother Guy. Less hip young things meant more tourists and wannabes, who made easier marks.

  His club was a block off the Mall. Not prime real estate, but from the lineup outside, no one seemed to care. Jaz said Guy liked us to work the line a bit as we came in--find likely marks and let them in, earning an easy excuse for an introduction later. But since this was my first night, Jaz figured they could skip that, and we headed up the other side of the road, cutting across as we neared the front of the line.

  We jogged across the road, dodging slow-moving cars, Jaz's fingers lightly resting on my waist to guide me. The smell of smoke wafted around us, some from exhaust, some from those in line getting in one last cigarette or cigar. A nervous laugh rang out over the murmur of the waiting crowd. Every voice seemed high-pitched, edged with forced fervor, as if they were trying to convince themselves that standing on the sidewalk was a very cool and fun way to spend an evening.

  We approached the front of the velvet rope as a girl in a shockingly ugly gauze slip of a dress tried to convince the bouncer that she was the advance party for J. Lo and absolutely had to get inside right away because J. wouldn't stop by if her table wasn't ready. The bouncer listened, eyes never bothering to meet hers, his mouth barely opening enough to direct her to a club two blocks over, where they might believe J. Lo was coming and, better yet, care.

  When the bouncer saw Jaz, though, his granite mask of ennui shattered into a wide grin, revealing a missing incisor. He slapped Jaz on the back and greeted Sonny, who edged the hopeful girl back, letting me through. Jaz lingered a minute, introducing me and making small talk as I felt the weight of stares on my back, and listened to the mutters of "Who are they?" in tones half curious, half contemptuous. Then the bouncer opened the doors and we stepped inside.

  EASY RIDER WAS the club's name, and now I knew why. "Born to Be Wild" blasted from the speakers. Smoke swirled around a half-dozen pool tables. Two runways featured tattooed strippers with teased hair and torn fishnets. The female servers were clad in leather bikini tops and chaps; the guys got leather thongs and chaps. The tables were scarred and decrepit, the leather booths battered and torn. It looked like a biker bar, circa 1970.

  It didn't take long, though, to see past the illusion. "Born to Be Wild" was a dance remix. The "smoke" around the pool tables was dry ice. Those tattooed strippers were gorgeous, and the tattoos probably came off with soap and water. The damage to the tables and booths was an artistic embellishment, not signs of age and misuse.

  A club designed to make the young, wealthy and bored feel like they were wallowing in the grimy biker subculture without any danger of soiling their Pradas.

  "Cheesy, huh?" Jaz whispered, his warm breath tickling my ear. "Works, though. They eat this shit up."

  "I see that."

  "Sonny? Can you take Faith to our table while I change?"

  "Our table" was a booth with a view of the entire club. Bianca was there, with two guys she introduced as Tony and Max. Max was tall with a chiseled profile, a perfect tan and sun-bleached blond hair gathered in a small ponytail. Tony was about five six, compact and muscular, black hair cropped so short it was like a birthmark across his scalp. Both moved to give me room, Max shifting aside with a polite smile, Tony waving me in with a confident grin, as if I should be honored by the invitation. I slid in beside Max.

  Having been to many clubs, I expected conversation to be impossible, but the booth must have been specially soundproofed. I still had to strain to hear, but could carry on a conversation.

  Bianca set Tony and Max on a group of fortyish women trying hard to look twenty.

  After they left, she turned to me. "
Faith, I'd like you to--"

  "Bee?"

  Jaz appeared at her shoulder, dressed in a vintage wide-collared off-white dress shirt and black jeans.

  "I thought I'd squire the lady around for a while. Introduce her to some people. Maybe take a tour of the dance floor."

  Bianca looked from me to Jaz. "You two should catch some eyes. Make sure you do--have fun, play it up. You know the drill."

  I soon understood why Jaz had made it into the gang despite his weak supernatural type. The guy had phenomenal people skills. As we circled the room, it was nonstop "How's the new job going?" and "Saw you in the paper last week" and "Hey, that girl you were checking out last time is here--without her boyfriend." Most people would sound smarmy and false, but Jaz had such an aura of bouncy good humor he pulled it off.

  "Can I stop now?" he whispered as we left yet another group.

  I choked on a laugh. "But you seem to be having such a good time."

  "Not having a bad one but--" He shrugged. "Not my crowd, really. Any chance I can talk you into a break on the dance floor?"

  "Done."

  Jaz was a good dancer. Not fantastic, but decent enough that he didn't make a fool of himself, which summed up my own skills.

  "Poor Max," he said during a lull in the pounding beat.

  I followed his gaze to a corner where Max and Tony were chatting up the ladies Bianca had set them on. Every now and then Max's attention would wander.

  "Not enjoying his assignment?" I asked.

  "He's got the looks, so Guy makes him play the floor, but he doesn't care much for humans and has a hard time faking it. Like being gay and pretending you're interested in girls."

  "He doesn't date humans?"

  A genuine look of surprise. "Do you?"

  I took advantage of an upbeat in the tempo to formulate my answer. Where I came from, if I didn't date humans, my social calendar would be very bare. Actually, it had been bare for about a year now, but that was another matter. Even calling nonsupernaturals "humans" seemed weird. The council sometimes used the word, but sparingly, as if it was borderline racist. To say, "I don't date humans" seemed like saying, "I don't date white guys."

  But if I had the choice, wouldn't I prefer supernaturals? Not because I thought we were superior, but because they'd understand me better. Like if I moved to India, I'd probably date Americans.

  I told the truth. "I don't have much choice where I come from but, if I did, I suppose I'd rather stick to supernaturals."

  "It's not just the 'can't reveal my secret powers' thing. Not like my powers need much cover-up anyway. It's just more comfortable, you know? Like being in the gang. Hanging out with others like us. Helping each other." He glanced toward Max, then smiled and moved closer, lips to my ear. "Which gives me an idea. What do you say we preempt Guy's testing?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Guy wants to test you. Let's beat him to it. Help Max out and show Guy what you can do. The sooner he trusts you, the quicker he'll bring you in on the big jobs. And there's something in the pipe right now." His lips brushed my ear. "Trust me, you won't want to miss it."

  WE JOINED MAX, Tony and the three women. I'd been reluctant--I couldn't see them welcoming a younger woman--but Jaz had insisted it'd be okay. He was right. I came with my own guy, so I wasn't competition. Having Max and Tony introduce them to friends seemed to waylay any suspicions that they were being played. And when I acted as if they were my age, it confirmed that the money they'd spent trying to look twenty again had worked.

  We hung out with them for a couple of drinks. The guys had this down to a science. They took turns offering to buy a round, gathered orders, then returned with virgin versions for us and real drinks for the ladies, probably double strength.

  The drunker the women got, the easier it was to pick up their negative thoughts. Once I had a few, I invited Jaz onto the dance floor. He took me to a corner partly obscured by a pillar, and where no one would notice we were doing more talking than dancing.

  "So," he said, eyes glittering. "Could you pick up all their dirty little secrets?"

  I laughed. "It doesn't quite work like that. I catch the chaotic thoughts--anything that might have negative connotations. Anger, sadness, jealousy...But it has to be an active thought. I can't hunt through their brains looking for secrets."

  "Okay, okay. So'd you get something?"

  He looked like a kid waiting for a present. I played it out, savoring his reaction.

  "Two of the three are married," I said.

  "Can I guess? Definitely the brunette--"

  "Bzzz. Sorry. Divorced, and having a rough time of it."

  "But she's the only one with a wedding band line."

  "I suspect that's because the other two are more aware of theirs, and used tanner. The blond in blue is nervous. She didn't want to come along and she thinks she saw the daughter of a friend on the dance floor. The one in the red dress, Michelle, is definitely out to paint the town and get some revenge. Hubby is away for the week at a conference, and she knows he's taken his mistress with him."

  When I finished, he was silent.

  "If you don't believe me--"

  "No, shit, I believe you. I'm just...speechless." He shook his head. "Holy shit. Now that's a power. Guy is going to love this."

  "But there's nothing there we can use, unless it's blackmailing the husband over the mistress, but if the wife already knows..."

  "Too complicated. Guy likes the short-term con and I think I know where he'll want us to go with this. Head back to Max and Tony. Tell them I'm in the john. I'll talk to Bianca."

  WHILE JAZ WAS gone, Tony took a call. A simple "Yeah...yeah...okay...see you then." I guessed it was Bianca or Guy, telling him what was going on. He swung over to the other side of the woman in the red dress and started joking with her, subtly steering her closer to me.

  When Jaz returned, he snuck up behind me and put his hands on my waist, tickling me. I jumped. He ducked out of the way, as if expecting a smack, then bounced back, goofing around, grabbing me around the waist, tweaking my hair, grinning all the while. I played along, twisting from his grasp, smacking his hands away and laughing. Finally, he caught me from behind and pulled me against him. His hands went to my thighs and slid under my skirt.

  "Did I mention how hot you look tonight?" he said.

  "Oh, please," Tony said. "Get a room, guys."

  Jaz wrapped his arms around me, his chin resting on my head. "Exactly what I was thinking. You guys don't mind if we take off, then?"

  "Go on."

  Jaz steered me through a group, his arm around my waist, hand planted on my ass. Once we were out of sight of the others, he removed it and whispered, "Sorry. And thanks for not smacking me for real back there. I needed to create a distraction."

  He opened his hand. In his palm lay a driver's license and keys on a unicorn-head fob.

  "From the lady in red? Ah-ha. That's why Tony put her beside me...and why you put on that little show. Your hand slipped into her purse, didn't it?"

  "We magicians may not get the fancy spellcasting, but when it comes to picking pockets, there's no one better."

  HE TOOK ME into a room where Sonny and Guy were waiting with a key duplicating machine. I jotted down the address, then Jaz looked it up on MapQuest. When Sonny was done with the keys, Jaz left with the originals. A few minutes later, he returned.

  "Okay?" Guy said.

  "You need to ask?"

  "Cocky bastard." Guy leaned back in his chair, gaze appraising us. "How about we put that self-confidence to the test, Jasper? You three will do the job."

  "Without Bianca?"

  "Think you can handle it?"

  "You need to ask?"

  "Sonny, you keep that ego of his in check. Faith, listen to Sonny. Now get your tools and go. You've got ninety minutes. Then I'm calling Tony and Max in for the night and the ladies go home."

  HOPE

  ADRENALINE

  We used a crew vehicle to drive to the mark's address.
I knew it wasn't right to call her "the mark." She was a woman with a name, one who was about to have her home violated and her possessions stolen just because she was out for the evening trying to take revenge on a philandering husband. But, like an undercover cop, I had to get my hands dirty in this job.

  Shifting into the gang's mentality was easier than it should have been. I'd been hanging out with Karl too long and, while I often argued with him about the moral bankruptcy of thievery, I'd come to understand and accept it. He'd been raised by a thief, knew no other life, and he needed the adrenaline rush to work off the more uncivilized urges of a werewolf.

  On an intellectual and moral level, I knew what I was about to do was wrong. But on a physical and emotional level? I couldn't wait to get started.

  OUR MARK LIVED in a luxury high-rise. From Karl's lessons, I knew this would be tougher than breaking into a single-family dwelling. The only safe route in was through the patio door. Fortunately, with a third-floor apartment, that didn't require much skill or equipment. It helped that the balcony overlooked a tree-shrouded auxiliary parking lot. Once we'd donned our black hoodies and pants, we'd be invisible.

  Jaz and Sonny agreed I should go up first and take a look while they stood guard. I made it to the balcony easily. The French doors couldn't be opened with the keys, but it was such a simple lock that a credit card would do the trick. It couldn't be that easy. I peered through the glass. Beside the front door, a light blinked on a security panel.

  I pulled out the minibinoculars hoping I could identify the alarm type. When I did, I bit back a laugh. Cheap bastards.

  A count to three, then I unlocked the door, threw it open and sprinted across the room. As I disabled the alarm, my heart sped from a canter to a full-out gallop.

  I should have called Sonny up for a second opinion so if anything went wrong, I wouldn't shoulder the blame alone. But there was no time for that now. In less than a minute, this alarm would go off.