Personal Demon (7 page)

“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

W
e 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.

The pressure and the doubts should have made me fumble or hesitate. But the risk only added to the exhilaration. Then came those final few seconds, when I knew I was pushing the limit, either I’d succeed or I’d fail and I wouldn’t get another chance because if I did fail, the alarm would sound and—

The blinking light turned off.

I leaned against the wall, trembling. Bliss. I smiled and closed my eyes, telling myself I needed to catch my breath but savoring every lick of chaos to the sweet end.

Then I waved Jaz and Sonny up and we set to work.

It quickly became apparent that these guys were no petty stereo-and-TV thieves. They knew what could be turned over fast, for the most profit, and they knew where to find it. Quick and clean—anything that didn’t fit in the knapsacks stayed behind.

Most of what we took came from the safe. Like the locks and security system, it was a cheap one—a prop to scare off amateurs. It locked with a key, and we found one in our handful of duplicates.

I made a few suggestions, mostly about covering our tracks and leaving a tidy scene, so the owner wouldn’t walk in to ransacked drawers—all tips from Karl.

Most of Karl’s training had been theory, mingled with safe practice, like breaking into council delegates’

homes with their consent. A flat line on the chaos monitor.

The theft with Jaz and Sonny couldn’t have been more different. Sonny was enjoying himself, but Jaz was stoked—trumpeting every new find as if he’d discovered buried treasure, darting in to check our progress, prowling the apartment, peering out the windows for danger…and almost seeming disappointed when he didn’t find it. He threw off chaos waves so strong and sharp I shivered each time he came near.

I found a dusty jewelry box on the top shelf of the closet—antique stuff that probably came from an estate.

Sonny helped me sort through it, leaving the costume pieces behind. Then Jaz burst into the room.

“Got trouble, bro,” he whispered to Sonny. “We’re cutting it close to Guy’s time limit and there’s a couple fighting in the back parking lot. We’ll have a helluva time getting off the balcony.”

Sonny doused his flashlight, lifted the bedroom blind and looked out. “Shit.”

“I know.”

Jaz tried to keep his tone sober, but his eyes gleamed. I could feel the adrenaline pounding through him and turned my face into the shadows so he wouldn’t see my response. When I glanced back at the guys, Jaz had
his
face averted, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to play the cool professional. For my benefit, I presumed.

“Should we wait or go out the front?” I asked.

“Front’s easier leaving than entering,” Sonny said.

As we talked, Jaz rocked on the balls of his feet, saying nothing, as if knowing he couldn’t be trusted to come up with the safest answer.

“They’re still fighting,” Sonny said after one last look out the window. “You guys got everything?”

We nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

I WENT FIRST,
sprinting across the hall with my hood pulled up, face down. A survey of the stairwell showed only one camera, at the bottom and easy to pass unnoticed.

As Sonny shut the door behind them, I whispered a warning about the security camera. When he headed for the stairs, Jaz caught his arm and motioned up.

“No fucking way,” Sonny said. “We’re on a schedule and—”

Jaz caught my elbow. “Come on. I want to show you something.” He leaned forward, eyes meeting mine, that infectious grin making my heart skip. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

“Go,” Sonny grumbled behind us. “Let’s just make it fast.”

HOPE: VIEW FROM THE TOP

A
s Sonny and I tramped past the sixteenth-floor landing, Jaz hit the last flight at a bound. By the time we arrived, Jaz had already picked the roof door lock. He looked out and murmured, “Perfect.”

As Sonny strode ahead, surveying the roof for cameras or other trouble spots, I stayed by the door, letting my eyes adjust. Jaz came up beside me, his fingers touching my wrist above the glove, bare skin making contact.

When I glanced over his gaze tripped away, smile unexpectedly shy. A quick squeeze of my gloved hand and he grabbed my elbow instead and steered me across the roof.

As we walked, his chaos vibes were light, teasing, barely enough to tap my radar. His eyes gleamed, like a boy getting into mischief. I tugged off my glove, then slid my hand into his. He grinned—so big and so bright that you’d think he was ten years old, a girl holding his hand for the first time. Seeing that smile, I knew I was going to fall for him.

For almost a decade now, anytime I’d met a guy and thought I could fall for him, I’d thrown up every barrier. I had too much to hide, too much else going on in my life, and I couldn’t afford the ups and downs—and, yes, the pain—of romantic entanglements. But I looked at Jaz, saw myself falling and didn’t care. Tonight I wasn’t Hope Adams, didn’t have all her problems, her insecurities, her responsibilities. Whatever this became, it couldn’t last. No reason not to let myself enjoy the ride.