"So I see," Troy said dryly.
Which wasn't Troy's style at all. My gaze shot to his eyes. Bright green eyes.
"Bal--" I started as I disentangled from Adam.
Then I stopped. The tone hadn't sounded like Balaam's. And the expression fixed on me--annoyance mingled with displeasure--wasn't Balaam's either.
"I'm not your grandsire, girl," he said as Adam moved between us. "And you don't need to protect her from me, Adam. I have no love for Balaam, but I have no issue with the girl." A hard look at me. "Though I would prefer not to find her in your embrace. May I have a moment with my son?"
Silence as we figured out what he meant . . . and who he was.
"Asmondai," Adam said, in a tone more suited to the inconvenient appearance of a drunken uncle than the father he'd never met.
"I'm sorry." The lord demon's voice dripped sarcasm. "Is this a bad time?"
"Any time would be a bad time, actually. Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."
"I am not selling--"
"So you popped by to say hi? Make my acquaintance? I've got a dad, thanks. You're just the jerk who knocked up my mom and left her to figure out what to do with a son who likes setting things on fire."
When a demon lord deigns to visit his offspring, this is probably not the reception he usually gets. Asmondai was speechless for a second, then said slowly, "I understand that you're angry."
"No, I'm not. Hint?" Adam lifted his hands. "Not even warm."
He was right. When he rested his hand on my leg, it was cool.
"What if I've come to help you?" Asmondai asked.
"Oh, I'm sure you have. Just like Balaam came to help Savannah. Offer her power, glory, queen of the universe, if she helps him in return. She refused. Now she's under lock and key in this place, with a Nast bounty on her head. Because Balaam tried to 'help' her. So how about we skip that stage and go straight to no. Not interested. Piss off."
"Piss off?" Asmondai lifted one brow. "You may have inherited my talent for politics, but you've not yet mastered the art of rhetoric, have you?"
"I'm sure I'm a huge disappointment, so why don't you just write me off and go."
"I have no intention of writing you off, Adam. Of all my children, I've chosen you because you're different. You're--"
"Special?" Adam said. Now I felt heat flare through his hand. "Does that sound familiar, Savannah?"
"Pretty much exactly what Balaam said to me," I said. "He chose me--a mere granddaughter--because I'm special, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm connected to the interracial council, the Nast Cabal, the Cortez Cabal . . ."
"I can't claim quite that many connections," Adam said. "But I'm the only child of yours who's actually on the front line of this battle."
Asmondai said, "But how did you get on the front line, Adam? When you were her age"--he waved at me--"you were a college dropout. Living at home. Taking the easiest jobs you could find, just enough to pay for your toys. You were an interracial council delegate because of Robert Vasic, and the only reason you showed up at meetings was because occasionally they led to an adventure. Now you're a key delegate on that council. You're a renowned private investigator. You're an expert on demons and supernatural lore. And you're a valuable frontline warrior, an Exustio half-demon who has fully mastered his powers. You've earned your place."
"I don't--"
"You don't care about my approval. I understand. But I'm here to help you because we're on the same side."
"No, we're not. You have your own agenda. It may overlap with ours, but that doesn't mean you're on our side."
"You are indeed growing into your birthright, my son. Agreed, then. But our agendas do overlap, and to that end, I'm bringing you information, no strings attached. You want to know what these people are doing with that virus, do you not?"
Adam straightened.
The lord demon smiled. "Good. Then I will tell you."
Troy was not impressed when he finally got his body back. He took anti-possession brews--you can't have a demon taking over a CEO's bodyguard--but those didn't help against a lord.
He muttered about Adam's relatives and mine, popping up all over the place, causing trouble. Trying to make light of what was, as we all knew, a very serious situation. No supernatural really worries about being possessed by a lord demon because the only time they take human form is to procreate. They don't answer our summons, and they sure as hell don't drop in to say hello.
Most supernaturals knew better than to try to contact a lord demon to ask for a favor. A friend of mine lost the use of her legs summoning Asmondai--and still never actually met the guy. But now they were taking human form to ask us for favors. That told us just how desperate the situation had become.
Benicio was meeting us in the boardroom. As we hurried there, we bumped into Elena and Clay, intently heading someplace of their own. They'd been recalled with Lucas and Adam, pending more news on Larsen Dahl.
I asked if they'd seen Hope.
"She's awake and recuperating," Elena said. "Karl wants to eat, so we're hunting down breakfast. We'll join you in the boardroom. Benicio's still working on getting that message translated. Hope may have more information to add from her vision."
"After she eats," Clay said.
Elena smiled. "Always the top concern. Can we grab you guys something?"
I said we were fine and they continued on.
"I disagree," Lucas was saying to a white-haired man as we walked into the boardroom. "If Lucifer is going to communicate through Hope, why would he speak in languages she doesn't understand?"
"It is possible," the man said. "We have accounts--"
"Minor demons," Adam interjected. "None from lords, right?"
The old man scowled at him. "We have very few accounts of lord demons communicating with anyone at all."
"Eight confirmed cases in the last fifty years," Adam said. "Aside from the times they hooked up with human women, when I'm sure they did plenty of talking, though not necessarily in Latin . . . unless they were trying to seduce a member of the debating team."
The old man's scowl deepened.
I said hi to Lucas as we sat. He looked tired, but managed a rare smile for me.
"Lucas and I have talked about Hope's earlier visions," Adam said. "I agree that it's not Lucifer attempting contact. More on that later. For now, we need to bump up the number of confirmed lord demon visits. I called this meeting because I have new information, and it came directly from Asmondai, not twenty minutes ago."
Adam waited for everyone to digest that, then said, "From Bryce, we had an idea what the plan was. Take this virus and turn key people into supernaturals. From the test results, we know they're using vampire and werewolf DNA and likely zombie. Presumably, then, they're hoping to not just make these guys regular supernaturals, but to give them the superhero treatment. Semi-immortality and invulnerability from vampires. Heightened senses and physical strength from werewolves. Prolonged youth from both. The best we've got to offer in one package. If it works, those who get it are going to be thinking this supernatural stuff ain't so bad, meaning they aren't going to argue to lock the rest of us up."
Paige nodded. "Because they'll be one of us, too. So they're choosing men and women who'd have some say in how revealed supernaturals are treated. Politicians, I presume."
Adam shook his head. "Eventually, but according to Asmondai, their first targets are deeper sources of power. Money men. Guys with deep pockets and lots of clout. Would that work? I have no idea. But I'm thinking we don't want to find out. We need to get to the targets before they do."
"Wonderful," one of the VPs said. "And how do you propose we do that? Determine the most powerful financial leaders in America and hope these terrorists use the same criteria?"
"No. Asmondai gave us names. He wants this stopped and thinks we can do it. There are two initial test cases. Two more will follow immediately after."
"Good," Benicio said, getting to his feet. "We'
ll get there before they strike and establish round-the-clock surveillance. We'll be ready for them."
"We need to dispatch those teams now," I said. "According to Asmondai, they're hitting the first two tonight."
THIRTY-ONE
I was heading back into the field. Adam, Elena and Clay were going with me, so I'd be well protected on all sides. Also, we were in serious shit and already overextended. They needed everyone out there.
While Asmondai had been very helpful, there was a lot he couldn't know. How exactly did SLAM plan to do this? How long would they wait after the two test cases before hitting the next two? And, most important, what were the risks of this injection? Bryce said they called it a virus. How did it spread? It wasn't airborne, it seemed, or even spread by close contact--I'd had lots of contact with Bryce when I was getting him out of the lab and I was fine. Did it spread at all? Or was "virus" just a convenient name?
The linguists were still working on Hope's message. They'd deciphered most of it. Now the problem was figuring out what it meant. It seemed to be about a place . . . if the person describing it was a sideshow fortune-teller. A winding road. Fields of gold. A house in ruins. Cows in a meadow. That could describe a million locations in America alone. Really not helpful.
But we had as much as we were getting for now.
Lucas, Paige, Jeremy and Jaime were going after one of the initial test cases in Dallas. Adam, Elena, Clay and I were taking the other in Austin. There would be a security team dispatched to each city with us, but this wasn't a "swoop in with a SWAT team" kind of mission. The bulk of the Cortez and Boyd security forces--along with Cassandra, Aaron, Sean and others--were being sent to track down and begin surveillance on the second wave of targets.
In just over an hour, we were at the airfield, bags in hand. We were going to Austin. Cassandra and Aaron were with us--they were heading to Houston to meet a security team and monitor a second-wave subject. Yep, there's money in Texas.
The leaders of the Austin and Houston contingent were on the jet, too. They kept their distance, though. They obviously weren't comfortable being so close to werewolves.
The easiest way to thwart the Austin attack would be to kidnap the target--Maurice B. Lester, head of Lester Oil. Yet that wouldn't help us catch those who planned to infect him. If he wasn't available, they could move on to Lester's wife and kids--the next best thing to infecting a bigwig is to infect his loved ones, which guarantees he won't be advocating universal imprisonment for supernaturals.
In the end, we were stuck with the simplest and most frustrating plan. Watch and wait.
After half a day of following Maurice Lester, we'd been at BJ's BBQ for an hour now. Lester and his party had only just ordered dinner. We'd almost finished eating in a side room, where we were out of sight, but Elena and Clay could follow the conversation at Lester's table.
"I'm sure the discussion is fascinating," Clay said, "if you give a shit about oil."
"Antonio appreciates it," Elena said as she tapped her phone. "I'm texting him stock tips. Get a few pitchers of beer in these guys and they forget they aren't alone in the place."
"No," Adam said. "They just don't care. Only people they can see are minimum-wage servers and a table of college kids. Their stock tips are safe."
"Can you pass those to me?" I said to Elena. "I wouldn't know a stock tip if someone wrote it on the table, but my investment guy can use them."
"Speaking of writing on the table," Elena said, gesturing at the art unfolding beneath me, "you're going to have to cut that out before you go."
Adam nodded. "It's the best crayon-on-tablecloth work you've ever done."
I laughed and kept sketching. It was nothing really, just a shot of the restaurant interior, more doodling than drawing.
"I haven't seen you draw in a while," Elena said.
I shrugged. "I do. Just . . . not as much these days. But as long as I'm sitting here with a brown paper tablecloth and crayons . . ."
She leaned over to look more closely. "There's a lot more color than your usual stuff."
"Because there aren't any grays and blacks in the crayon cup," I said.
"Ah."
Clay rocked back in his chair, casting bored glances at Lester's table. At first we'd jumped every time someone walked past him and nearly raced in when a colleague thumped him on the shoulder. By now, even when the server leaned over to ask something, we didn't twitch. Asmondai had said the group would strike tonight. While that wasn't set in stone, it was unlikely they would inject Lester in a restaurant, surrounded by his friends and associates.
"Go scout outside," Elena said as Clay thumped his chair back down.
"That an order?"
She smiled. "It is."
"Thank you."
As he got up to go, his fingers brushed her back. Just a light touch. Making contact. I'm sure that as we'd been sitting there, Clay had his leg against hers under the table.
When Clay zipped back a few minutes later, Elena got up.
"Are they leaving?" she asked him.
"Nope. And they won't be for a while. A car full of Saudis just drove up. I'm guessing they're here for Lester."
They were. Seemed they were supposed to be here an hour ago, but were delayed. Dinner was about to begin in earnest.
"I say we give the kids a break." She looked at us. "I know you've had a rough couple of days, and I already reserved the hotel rooms, so--"
"Great," Adam said. Then quickly added, "I mean, great that you reserved them already. But we'd hate to cut out on you guys like that."
"Cut," Clay said. "While you have the chance."
"The Omni up the road," Elena said. "The room is under Vasic. You guys usually share when you're on a case, right? So you can watch each other's backs?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Good," Elena said. "Go on then. Rest. The hotel is a couple blocks from here. We'll call if anything happens."
As we headed out, I whispered to Adam, "Do you think they know?"
"Nah. Elena's just being considerate."
THIRTY-TWO
We did not walk. We went out the front door, saw a cab, and decided speed was of the essence.
We tactfully avoided making out in the cab or the elevator. Once we got the room door open, though, all bets were off. Adam had me inside and up against the wall before the door swung shut.
As I started to kiss him back, I caught a glimpse of the room over his shoulder and stopped.
"I don't think we've been nearly as discreet as we thought," I said as I nodded at the king-size bed.
He turned to look. "Nope, apparently we weren't."
I laughed and pulled him close. Before our lips could touch, he backed up. He looked over his shoulder at the bed, then at me. "I think we should wait," he said.
"What?"
He put his hands on my shoulders. "Let's not rush into this."
"Rush?" I sputtered.
"I want you to be sure, Savannah."
"Hell, yes, I'm sure. I've never been more sure . . ."
I caught the glitter in his eyes then. The twist of his mouth, like he was biting his cheek to keep from laughing.
"You . . . you . . ."
He let out a whoop of a laugh. "Sorry. I had to. The look on your face . . ." He was laughing too hard to finish his sentence, hands falling from my shoulders.
I narrowed my eyes and took a step toward him. "May I remind you that my spells are much improved?"
"Sorry." His hand went up as he choked on a laugh. When I glowered, he reached for me, hands going to my hips. "Come here."
"Mmm, maybe not." I backed away.
He moved forward, putting his hands on my hips again, warming me through my jeans as his lips went to my ear. "I'll make it up to you."
I grasped his wrists and pushed his hands away. "No, I think you might have a point. We are rushing things and it's not like we really need to do this now."
"Umm . . ."
"I know I don't."
 
; I kept backing up. He started to step forward, then stopped himself. The start of a smile disappeared in a flicker of uncertainty, as if he was pretty sure I was joking--really hoped I was joking--but wasn't completely sure.
I started unbuttoning my shirt. He grinned and tried to grab me again, but I put my hand against his chest.
"Uh-uh."
"But . . ." He gestured at my open shirt buttons.
"We told Elena we were getting some rest. I'm not going to nap in my clothing."
I unbuttoned the shirt halfway, then flicked open the clasp on my jeans and shimmied them down. I took the clip from my hair next and shook it out. Then I finished with the shirt, letting it fall open. Adam let out a soft breath.
I backed up onto the bed. He watched me. Just stood there, watching me. I peeled the bedspread back and slid onto the sheets, pulling my bare legs up under me, shirt opening, swinging my hair over to cover my breasts.
"Do you want to take a nap with me?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered hoarsely.
I shrugged off the shirt. Then I reclined on the pillows, one knee up, hair brushed aside. I hooked my thumbs in the sides of my panties and inched them down my hips.
"Are you sure?" I said. "Because if you aren't sure--"
He was across the room, on the bed, mouth to mine before I could finish.
I leaned over the side of the bed, hair falling in a curtain as I peered at the carpet. Adam tugged me back up.
"What's wrong?" he murmured as he pulled me against him.
"I have rug burns." I rubbed my ass. "I'm trying to figure out how I got rug burns."
"We were on the floor."
"Were we?"
"Briefly, yes."
"Huh." I pushed up in bed. "How'd I miss that?"
He chuckled. "Well, either it was so good you lost track of where we were, or it was so bad you were busy compiling your grocery list."
"I don't buy the groceries. Paige does."
Another chuckle, this one vibrating through me as he pulled me on top of him. "Then I'm going to pick option one. And if I'm wrong, don't tell me."
I stretched out on him, arms folded on his chest, chin propped on them. "No, it was option one. You were very good. Of course, I expected it. I'd heard that about you."
He blinked and lifted his head to meet my eyes.
"Purely unsolicited information," I said. "Some of your hookups liked to share."