House of Ash & Brimstone Read online

  But the yellow, fluorescently-lit kitchenette area was empty.

  “Beast?”

  She resisted the urge to panic at the thought that he’d slipped out the back, past the dumpster and around the side of the parking lot—that he’d ditched her and run off with the curio. Having to track him down was so not what she needed right now.

  “We decided it’d be smarter if he hid in the shower.” She turned to find Shade leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

  Oh, they were back on speaking terms now, were they? How dandy.

  “We,” she echoed flatly. Okay, so it was a good plan. Warrick almost never used the shower in the back. He’d installed it in the locker room for her after she’d started running and kickboxing during her lunch break several years ago. Nowadays she preferred to expend her energy before and after work instead, so the only time anyone used the office shower anymore was when a run got…messy. Like it had that morning.

  “Beast!” she yelled. “We’re heading out!”

  The shower door creaked open from the locker room down the hallway, and she listened as Beast tumbled out of it. His hooves clicked across the tile floor, softening when they transitioned to the scratchy industrial carpeting of the hallway.

  He peeked his snout around the corner, looking sheepish.

  Whatever he’d broken, she didn’t want to know about it.

  “Ready to leave,” he affirmed, voice somber.

  He was committed to their venture without even knowing what she was asking of him, and she guessed she couldn’t blame him. Anything would be more appealing than hiding out in a tiny plastic shower all day. She rubbed her horns as she tried to decide what to do with him.

  “Meet us out front, I have to grab my guns.”

  Shade stalked out of the room without a word, headed to the weapons safe room first. Fine by her. She needed the opportunity to speak with Beast, alone.

  “Hey,” she offered, sidling closer and touching a hand to his forearm. “Everything okay between you two? Because if he tried anything—”

  “Little dragon hungers for Half-blood. Respects claim on Beast.” He tapped his chest, thick fingers encircling the bulge beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Beast still keeps guard. Keeps head safe.”

  As usual, she had no idea what the minotaur was talking about. If anything, it sounded a little bit worrisome. But she could feel the curio’s power like a soft pulse from beneath Beast’s shirt, so she was satisfied—for the moment.

  Shade hadn’t tried to filch it again. That was good. Right?

  “Yeah, well, if you guys are such good friends now, tell him to stop being such a condescending prick about everything.”

  She slapped Beast on the shoulder good-naturedly and headed for her locker.

  “Meet you outside.”

  The words were for Beast’s benefit, but as she rounded the corner into the hallway, she spotted Shade, returning from the weapons room. There was nothing noticeably different about his person: no visible holster straps, no telltale bulges. Had he added any weapons at all?

  She resisted the urge to check him. He might draw on her, but more likely they’d only both end up with split lips.

  Her coworker was either an unarmed idiot about to waltz into a powder keg, or he was very, very good at carrying concealed. She hoped for her sake that he was armed to the teeth.

  “Jerk-face,” she breathed, not looking back.

  Five hurried steps later, she stood in the spare office squaring off with the two-ton fireproof weapons safe. The door was heavy enough that if you weren’t careful, you could crack a nail just opening it. She tapped in the sixteen-digit code on the keypad and cranked the handle to unlock the safe. Then she wrenched the door with the full force of her weight.

  Open, it was a beauty to behold.

  White LED lights lit the interior—thirty-six inches deep and dual paneled with overhead shelves and an array of guns, knives, holsters, and ammo on rotating display.

  It was tempting to over-weapon for effect: twin 10mm Smith & Wessons on her thighs for easy access, a .375 Sig Sauer in the small of her back and a 9mm Ruger cross-draw over her left ribs for concealed carry; her spare Remington pump action shotgun on a sling across her back; a silver-tipped ankle knife in her right boot; a black-bladed, double-serrated tactical knife in a sheath down her spine. But it wasn’t practical. She wasn’t gearing up for a street war, and any weapons she took into the Office of the Paranormal, even with her ‘para-enforcement services’ carry permit, would have to be declared and swept through both metal and magical scanners in the lobby. Too many weapons to take off and strap back on would just be a pain in the ass.

  So instead she opted for only the unconcealed dual thigh pistols—for this trip, the more conspicuous the better—the ankle knife, and a flat cross-body sling with ammo, ID, keys, and lipstick.

  She started to close the safe, but on second thought dug out a final item. She slid the silver ring onto her left pointer finger. It looked like an ornate mood ring, but the smooth, dark oval gem only changed colors in the presence of certain spells. The spectrum of colors represented a variety of spell types, but the only one she cared about today was red, for lethal. It would at least give her a heads-up. Right before she died.

  Beast was waiting for her outside when she locked up the front door. A glance around the parking lot revealed Shade bent down and cursing under his breath as he tinkered with the fuse block on his Harley Sportster.

  “Problem?” she called. But in usual fashion, he answered with only a cock of his head to indicate he’d heard her.

  She jiggled the front doors to ensure they were locked, checked that the closed sign was visible, and satisfied, turned her attention back to the minotaur.

  He flared his black nostrils wide. “Half-blood needs only to lead. Beast will follow.”

  She worried her lip, hating what she was about to say to him. “Sorry, Beast. But I can’t take you into the Office of the Paranormal. If I did, you wouldn’t make it out. Not in one piece, anyway.”

  Their chief medical examiner had been after bits of Gisele’s body parts for years, and she had the rights of a full human under the eyes of the law. Even if Beast had the proper paperwork to prove residential status, he hadn’t been born in the U.S., nor could he claim human parentage. The Office of the Paranormal wouldn’t hesitate to detain and deport him…or worse, if given just cause.

  Gisele tossed Beast the set of keys. He caught it with a thick, three-fingered hand. On the ring was the key to her Accord. They’d taped a plastic bag over the back, broken window. She dug her cell phone out of her sling and handed it over more carefully. It was her best means of keeping in touch with him.

  “It rings, you answer it. You need me, don’t hesitate to call this jackass behind me,” she instructed. “I need you to go meet with Cynthia. She’s got the estate paperwork for us to sign.”

  She half hoped Shade would butt in, that he’d threaten to tell Warrick so she’d have a reason to fight with him. But he was still tinkering with his bike, crouched with his back to her. If he’d heard, he didn’t let on.

  She gave Beast a teasing smile. “Oh, and Cyn was asking me about you.”

  If cows could blush, Beast would win the county fair prize ribbon for best in show. The minotaur brayed a flustered response, pinning her with bashful, teal eyes.

  She let out a delighted laugh, unable to help herself. He was such a gentleman; she couldn’t take it.

  “Sweep her off her feet, stud. I want our keys. Tonight!” As he climbed awkwardly into the low-sitting car, rocking the entire frame with his weight, she hollered, “Hey—you do know how to drive that thing, right?!”

  He responded by slamming the door and revving the engine. He looked behind him to back out of the parking space, but ended up flooring it forward into the sidewalk curb. Oh, hell. It looked like her car was the one that wouldn’t survive the day in one piece.

  “Be careful,” she waved to
him, and he nodded his big head, mouthing the word ‘understood’ as he careened her car out of the tiny parking lot and into the empty road.

  She said a little prayer to the Seraphim for him as Shade wheeled his bike over and tossed her a full-faced, red helmet. He was already wearing one of his own, sleek and black with a dark, reflective visor. “You better hope he doesn’t get pulled over by the cops.”

  “No kidding, I’ve got a bloody sword in the trunk of that car.”

  “You really trust him with your car?” he asked as he threw a leg over the Sportster and straddled the black leather seat.

  “No.” She tossed her hair back and wiggled into the motorcycle helmet he’d given her. Flipping up the visor, she scowled at the pressure the helmet put on her horns. “But if I took him with us, Maisie would eat him alive. I won’t have her treat him like a sideshow attraction. Lucifer knows he’s dealt with enough of that to last him a lifetime.”

  She assumed her comments didn’t make much sense to Shade out of context, but if he was curious, he didn’t pry. He nodded once, silent for a moment before he toed the bike into gear.

  He revved the engine and ripped out of the parking lot fast enough to make her squeal.

  Shade drove like they could spread wings and fly—if flying meant topping one hundred and swerving between two semis while running a red light. When they arrived at the downtown government building and he cut the engine, Gisele pried her hands free from his riding jacket and rocketed from the bike. Her legs wobbled when she touched down on the pavement, and she had to right herself to keep from falling to her knees.

  A high-speed motorcycle crash wouldn’t kill her, but it sure as hell would hurt. And if she ended up paralyzed, she had no idea how long she’d be off her feet. She was sure she could heal a severe spinal injury…eventually.

  “You did that on purpose,” she accused as she ripped her helmet off and knocked it with a hard swing into the back of his. “There was no reason we needed to fly through traffic like that.”

  Shade pried his own helmet free and shook out his disheveled, ash-brown hair. He rubbed the back of his skull where she’d clonked him, unbothered by her rebuke. Then he offered her a rare grin, pocketed the bike key on its little dragon skull keychain, and headed for the building’s main entrance.

  Gisele hooked her discarded helmet on one of the handlebars and hurried after him, smoothing her ruffled hair around her horns. “Now we’re not talking again?”

  “If you’ve thought of something you want to say to me,” he replied, “I’m listening.”

  Maybe she was overthinking it, but seeing that keychain, coupled with Beast’s name for Shade—little dragon—and the weird dream-delusions she kept having of him with wings… Well, she wondered. Should she know Shade?

  She had no memories from the time before she was eleven, when a visiting priestess had convinced Father Patrick that they could exorcise the evil out of her. They hadn’t, but the ritual had exorcised something, as it was her oldest memory.

  What if Shade had grown up with her at the home for wayward children?

  She wanted to ask him. The worst he could do was laugh. But her pulse spiked when she even thought about it, so instead, she asked, “Have you ever lived in Maryland before?”

  His boots scraped the asphalt as he walked. “No.”

  “The U.S.?”

  “No.”

  “Earth?”

  He palmed the side of his neck, unwilling to look at her. “No.”

  They’d crossed the wide parking lot and reached the office park’s lobby entrance. Chrome and frosted glass double doors glided open, and cold air smacked her in the face, a welcome relief from the heat.

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t come inside,” she said.

  “Think I’d let you go in alone?”

  She pulled a face. “While Warrick’s paying you extra to follow me around? I’d doubt it.”

  His answering sound was a rattled growl. It shot tingles down her spine. It tightened parts low in her body, and stupidly made her think of the way she’d felt, yesterday, when his arms had held her tight and his lips had brushed her ear.

  A hummingbird took flight in her chest, little wings beating faster as her pulse sped. Her vision blurred. She sucked in a sharp breath, and the world fell away.

  She was nine.

  Slate shingles warmed Gisele’s back where she lay next to Shade on the castle tower’s sloping roof. The midday sun kissed her cheeks, making her smile as she squinted up at the periwinkle sky.

  Mother would whip Shade if she found out Gisele had begged him to sneak her somewhere so high again.

  So they’d best not get caught.

  “Is there really no sun in Noir?” Her palm felt clammy in Shade’s grip, but she didn’t let go of his hand. If she slipped, he needed to catch her.

  “My pa says there’s not. He says that’s why our ancestors swore fealty to yours. ’Cause we craved the light.” But when he said it, he wasn’t looking at the sky.

  She’d rolled to her side as he spoke. He was staring at her, silver eyes fierce.

  Their noses touched, and a giggle burbled from her throat.

  Just inside the lobby, Shade stopped, and Gisele stumbled into him. Her boots squeaked, leaving black scuffs on the polished white oak flooring. Sweat dampened her palms, and she teetered, disoriented, like she’d tumbled through a Hellmouth.

  None of it made any sense. The reality she’d imagined didn’t fit with the world she knew. Was it damage from the Mardoll? Or could Shade be manipulating her, magically projecting images into her head? She wouldn’t put it past him.

  But he seemed oblivious to the vision she’d had. He’d craned his neck up, scanning the ceiling. A dark expression crossed his face. Whatever he sensed, he didn’t like it. “This place is dangerous. Stay close to me.”

  She wiped her hands on her jeans, eager to put the hallucination behind her. “No shit. I told you that before. Do you make it a point to not listen to me?”

  He shot her a look that said he could argue the same. Then his gaze dipped to her hands, and worry furrowed his brow.

  “It’s fine,” she said, low-voiced. “If you want to leave, I get it. I have more rights here than you do. I’m a big girl. I can go in on my own.”

  He grabbed her wrist, tugged her even closer to his side. “Gigi, listen to me. If something happens…” He caught her gaze, and the weight of his own surprised her. His eyes were wide, the irises bright and gray as moonlight in a winter sky. “Actually, we should just forget it. Forget the body. We don’t need to see it today.”

  She waited for him to explain, but he fell silent. He looked away, but didn’t let go of her. Instead, his grip tightened, his fingers bruising her wrist.

  “Uh, yeah, I do. I didn’t ride all the way out here for no reason. I know what I saw, Shade, but I have to know if it’s true.”

  “Gigi…”

  She clenched her fists, hating how when he said her name like that, it made her want to give in to him.

  “No. Wait outside if you need to. I’m going in.” She yanked her wrist free and maneuvered around him to take the lead. By the time she reached the security checkpoint scanners, she already had her weapons declared and laid out on clear trays, ready for the conveyor belts. A final check of her spell-indicator ring—it was pulsing a sickly orange-green, nothing too alarming—and it went on a tray as well.

  One of the guards on duty inspected her paranormal enforcement agent carry permit and nodded for her to continue on through to the full-body scanner.

  With a soft growl and a hand through his hair, Shade followed.

  “Nothing that could be considered a weapon goes through on your person,” she told him as she added her jacket and boots to the conveyor belt and stepped in line for the full-body scanner. “Nothing magical. You’ll get everything back on the other side.”

  He didn’t reply, and she stepped into the machine. A rotating frame kicked to life with a sharp screech
, and Gisele raised a hand to shield her eyes from the searing barrage of flashing white lights.

  Fire motes flickered across her vision, and a loud ringing erupted in her ears. For a moment, she felt as if her body was trying to turn itself inside out, but then it was over, and she was cleared for access.

  Her first time in the scanner, she’d vomited.

  “How many times have you been here?” Shade asked her once they were on the other side and she’d re-holstered her weapons. He looked a little green.

  Security hadn’t liked him one bit. They’d insisted on rescanning him, followed by a two-person pat down and a swab test, even though he hadn’t set off any of the machines. He hadn’t checked any items outside of his wallet, cell phone, and keys, which had made her nervous and the entire front lobby staff suspicious.

  She found it hard to believe he was really unarmed, but that appeared to be the case.

  Beyond the lobby was a set of six elevators, but what they were here to see wasn’t on the upper floors. A couple of double doors on the far right led them into a dimly lit hallway lined with medical equipment and closed doors.

  “I’ve only been here a handful of times,” Gisele explained as they walked. “Sometimes I help Laurel with the paranormal files when she’s partnered with the Office’s special agents for a state or fed-level investigation. Sometimes I get called down to ID one of the bodies. Sometimes they just send me pictures instead.” She leaned into him and whispered, “Relax. You look human, so you’ll be fine.”

  “You think I’d be fine?” A muscle jumped in Shade’s jaw. “Do you even—they’ve got electro-diametric amplifiers built into the walls, Gigi. I get tagged and I’m toast. If something happens, I won’t be able to—”

  His words cut off as they rounded a corner and almost collided with a physician pushing a gurney. The gurney hitched into the wall and the physician, flustered, dropped the IV bag she was carrying. When she stooped to pick it up, the patient on the gurney thrashed against his restraints.