Personal Demon (19 page)

Or, I suppose, that’s exactly what he’d done…

THOUGHTS OF KARL
kept me distracted until we met up at the apartment. Then I had to tell him everything, which ignited the fears I’d tamped down so well. By the end my hands were shaking, and I stuffed them into my jean pockets so Karl wouldn’t see. There was nothing I could do about my quavering voice.

“It’s probably just a misunderstanding,” I said. “Right now, they might be strolling into the club, ready for duty. I’ve left my condo without my cell phone and wallet—when I’m running out to the corner store or the coffee shop. There’s nothing to say they don’t have another set of keys.”

“We should notify Lucas.”

“Why?” My voice squeaked and I cleared my throat. “I’d sound as if I was overreacting.”

I moved to the sofa, grabbing every support along the route.

Something had happened to Jaz.

I dropped onto the sofa, one hand clutching the arm as though I might slide off.

I hadn’t seen a chaos vision. Hadn’t felt a vibe. If something serious happened in that room, I’d know it.

Wouldn’t I?

I was always the first to say my powers were far from perfect.

Karl sat beside me. Hands on his thighs, back straight. Then he reached over and patted my leg, a horribly awkward tap, like one you’d give a stranger in distress, while praying you wouldn’t be called upon to do more.

He glanced my way. Our eyes met and I saw…panic. Like I might throw myself into his arms and start sobbing. I looked away fast.

“I—I’m going to take a bath. Try to relax.”

I waited, hoping for him to say, “No, stay and talk about it.” But he mumbled, “Good idea.”

I pushed from the sofa and hurried to the bathroom.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER,
Karl rapped on the door.

“May I come in?”

“I’m still in the tub.”

“So…no?”

A few hours ago, he’d coldly refused to talk to me in a towel, and now he wanted to come in when I was bathing?

“If you want to, I guess,” I said, words coming slow, with obvious reluctance.

The doorknob turned. I arranged a washcloth over my breasts. Yes, he’d seen them before, but damned if I was putting on a show that he clearly didn’t want.

He shut the door behind him, as if we might be disturbed. For the second time that night, he looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable, hair ruffled, as if he’d run his hands through it.

“Yes, Karl?”

His gaze slid to me for the first time, then quickly turned away. “I thought…I could help. If you’d like. I can go to their apartment and—” His jaw worked, chewing over the next words, then he spit them out, as if making some embarrassing confession. “I could sniff around. See if there are any signs of…violence.”

“Blood, you mean.”

“And I can look—sniff—for trails, maybe find out where they went.”

I wanted to scream, “Yes, please!” but studied his expression, trying to gauge how genuine the offer was, how much he was hoping I’d say, “No, that’s okay.”

“I should, Hope,” he continued. “I can find some answers for you. You can stay here and wait—”

“No, I’ll come.”

WHEN WE ARRIVED
at the apartment, I was in a strange mood, almost giddy. Now I would know what had happened. If I’d thought of it earlier, I’d have asked Karl, but he worked so hard to suppress his werewolf side, it was easy to forget what he could do.

He wouldn’t find a murder scene. If they’d been killed, their bodies would still be there. I should have realized this, but had been so determined not to consider the possibility, that I hadn’t allowed myself to think it through.

If the Cabal
was
involved, they had Jaz and Sonny. Maybe not in the best of shape, but they’d be alive.

Their kidnappings would be for negotiation or a show of force.

In this frame of mind, the specter of Jaz’s death all but banished, I could relax. Karl would help me solve this puzzle, and then, if it was a kidnapping, we’d have proof to take to Benicio and demand answers.

The building door, as earlier, was unlocked, but Guy had relocked the apartment door.

Karl took out his picks.

“May I?” I asked.

“Of course.”

It would be quicker if he did it, but the hall was empty. Karl handed me his gloves—sheer fabric that let me feel and grip objects, but wouldn’t leave prints.

I shifted so my body would block anyone’s view from the right. Karl took up position on my left.

“You’re blocking my light,” I said.

“You can’t pick locks in the dark?”

“You still need to teach me.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

He stayed where he was, shadow cast over my hands. I closed my eyes and worked by feel. Overkill, but my heart was already picking up speed and I wasn’t averse to adding an extra layer of challenge…and danger.

After a minute, his hand closed around mine. My eyes flew open.

“Keep them shut,” he murmured. When I did, he straightened my fingers, guiding them. “Now, you can feel the…”

He led me through it. I struggled to pay attention, but the feel of his fingers through the thin fabric, the warmth of his breath, the overwhelming awareness of him, standing inches away…Let’s just say the chaos buzz of the lock-picking wasn’t the only thing making my pulse race.

Finally, we got it unlocked. I opened the door.

“Do you still have those locks I gave you for practice?” he asked.

“I do.”

“You should work on them in different light conditions.”

“You mean I’m not perfect yet?”

“Shockingly enough.”

He propelled me through the hall, then circled the room, sniffing discreetly.

“I don’t think that’s going to do it,” I said.

“I’m just starting.”

“You mean you’re working up to the undignified part.”

A snort, but he didn’t disagree, just kept circling.

“Just get down on the carpet,” I said. “I swear I won’t take photos.”

He crouched, then cast a surreptitious glance my way.

“Oh, good God, just get down already.” I turned my back to him and crossed my arms. “Better? I swear, Karl, even in Miami, you win bonus points for vanity.”

Another snort. Another noticeable lack of disagreement. After a few minutes, I said, “When Elena and I worked a council job together, she said her sense of smell is better when she’s in wolf form.”

“Humph.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Elena’s sense of smell is better than mine in any form.”

“And you admit it?”

“Only because it isn’t a skill I care to excel in.” A pause. “But you’re right. I should Change.”

“I was kidding, Karl. I know it’s not like snapping your fingers—”

“No, I should. I’m already overdue.”

“Ah, that’s why you’ve been so grouchy.”

“Yes. It has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

I spun but only got a view of his back a split second before he closed the bedroom door. He’d want privacy for his Change and that
wasn’t
vanity. I’m curious about many things, but witnessing the human-to-wolf transformation isn’t one of them.

“I’m going to try picking up visions,” I said. “So try to keep the screams of agony to a minimum, okay?”

A muttered epithet. I grinned and walked to the sofa.

HOPE: THE SCENT OF TROUBLE

W
hile Karl Changed, I worked on summoning chaos visions. To automatically detect chaos, it has to be strong—either very recent or very chaotic. To find more, I need to pop up my antenna by concentrating. The problem is that then I get too many signals, all competing for air time in my brain.

I caught flashes—a raised hand, an angry shout, a muffled plea—with no context to place it in. Having Karl Changing in the next room didn’t help. There was no chaos from it—pain doesn’t count unless it’s accompanied by an emotion, and Karl was beyond that. Still, I knew he was undergoing something agonizing, to help me, so I couldn’t stop feeling twinges of guilt.

Finally there came the noise I’d been waiting for, the bump-bump of Karl moving around the bedroom, sniffing. After a moment, silence. Then a grunt of canine frustration.

I walked to the bedroom door…and laughed.

“Problem, Karl?”

A black nose appeared at the narrow opening of the almost-shut door. He tried wedging his muzzle into it to fling it open, but couldn’t get leverage. Another grunt, annoyed now. The nose withdrew. I could picture him sitting on his haunches, out of my sight, pondering the predicament.

“If you scratch at the door, someone will probably let you out.”

A huff.

I pushed open the door. Karl was sitting exactly as I’d pictured him. He fixed me with a look, then stalked out.

Before I met Karl, I’d wondered what a changed werewolf looked like. Not an all-consuming topic of curiosity, but I
had
wondered. I’d heard stories, but no eyewitness accounts. I had my curiosity satisfied that first night.

Admittedly, having little experience with wolves, I’d thought he looked like a big dark-haired dog. Later, I’d found a picture of a black wolf with snow on its muzzle, giving the photographer an imperious “I most certainly was
not
playing in the snow” glower. The wolf—and its expression—reminded me so much of Karl that the picture now hung in my home office. He hated it. Threatened to abscond with it every time he visited, but of course, he never did.

Karl worked his way around the apartment with his nose to the floor. Not wanting to hover, I went into the living room, sat cross-legged on the floor and concentrated.

After a few minutes, a vision came that I hadn’t seen before—a spray of blood. Heart hammering, I pulled back from the vision, took a deep breath, then chased it, trying to untangle it from the other threads. Finally, by concentrating on just that image, I was able to tug it to the forefront.

I struggled to pull my mind’s eye away from the blood and see the rest of the scene. The screen was very small, focusing only on the event, as usual. Blood sprayed. Then, in the next iteration, I made out a flash of motion.

Then a flash of flesh. Finally, a flash of fist. That was it.

The blood came from a punch, maybe to the nose, not even a hard punch at that, the spark of chaos coming from surprise. A playful jab that made contact? Sonny and Jaz goofing around? A previous tenant? I couldn’t see either actor, but whatever the explanation, this wasn’t a truly chaotic event.

Karl walked behind me, so close his fur tickled my neck. I leaned back and he stopped, letting me rest against him. We stayed like that for a moment. Then he pressed his cold nose against the back of my neck, making me jump, and gave a growling chuckle before moving on.

“Not getting anything?” I asked.

I didn’t know whether he could understand me. He glanced my way, but that might only have been a reaction to my voice.

“Have you gone through the bathroom yet? That’s where it seems to have started, whatever
it
was.”

A soft grunt, and he walked that way. So he
could
understand me.

I started following, then heard the squeak of the front-door knob. Karl’s head swung up, ears swiveling.

I grinned. “Seems like someone’s home and we’ve all been worrying for nothing.”

The door opened. I started forward. Karl lunged and grabbed my hand in his teeth, fangs pressing into the skin, but careful not to break it. When I looked over at him, he flared his nostrils. I was about to pull away, when he flared them again, making a show of sniffing the air.

Whoever was in that hall wasn’t Jaz or Sonny. I was about to dive into the bathroom with Karl when a voice called, “Faith? Is that you?”

I pulled away from Karl. He snapped to get my attention. I shook my head and started to close the door behind me. He lunged into the opening. Then he backed up, leaving a paw in the gap as I pulled shut the door.

Guy walked in. He wore a blue paisley shirt and smelled of cologne, as if he’d been heading out to hit the clubs, take a break from worrying about Jaz and Sonny.

“It is you,” he said. “I thought I heard your voice.”

Karl’s paw vanished into the bathroom. I left the door as it was, so he could get it open, and moved into the living room.

“I heard someone coming in and thought it might be the guys.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“I know I probably shouldn’t be here, but I thought maybe it would be easier to pick up a vision when I was alone.”

“Was it?”

I moved to the sofa, making him turn his back to the bathroom door. “I caught flashes. Nothing relevant.

But I’d like to keep trying.”

He didn’t take the hint, just told me to go ahead and he’d poke around looking for clues he might have missed. A dark shape passed the partly open bathroom door, Karl changing position to keep an eye on Guy.

Guy checked under the sofa.

“So no one’s heard anything, I take it?” I said.

He shook his head and moved to the entertainment stand, searching it. I crossed to the door, struggling to think of a way to get him out of here. When I turned, he was in the middle of the room, looking around. His gaze fell on the bathroom door.

“I suppose I’ll take off, then,” I said. “Try to get some sleep.”

I was about to ask him to walk outside with me, claim the neighborhood made me nervous, but he beat me to it, adding, “I should probably go too. This isn’t helping. It’s just…” He rolled his shoulders. “Making me feel useful, I guess.”

I nodded. “Same here. Better to rest and clear our heads.”

We headed downstairs. I planned to call for a cab, then circle the block in it and return for Karl.

But Guy, surprisingly, wanted to talk. Obviously he was worried and tense and, like many people under stress, he reacted by talking. He explained what the others were doing to hunt for Jaz and Sonny, then he told me some of their theories, then gave more details on their recent attack by the Cabal goons. Any other time, I’d have made the most of his loquacious mood, but all I kept thinking was
How do I get out of here?
before Karl shot out the front door after me. When Guy finally did pause enough for me to say, “Oh, I should call that cab,” he put out a hand to stop me.