Demons and Lovers (12 page)

“What do Metamorphs care about the Paranorm Council?” Disgust edged every word I spoke. “Metamorphs don’t even have a representative.”

By the way his hands shook, I was pretty sure Smith was holding back his anger, trying to control himself this time. “That will change.”

“Yeah, right.” I gave a hollow laugh. “Like that’s going to happen.”

He lost a good portion of that control and slapped the side of my head so hard my ear rang from the force of it. “Tell me now or you die, Tracker. So does your boyfriend.”

I had to stall somehow. If I could keep him busy until sundown I would likely get my powers back. “How do you know I’m a Tracker?”

“We have informants.” Smith gave a casual shrug. “We know you are a human PI for the paranormal world during the day. By night you become a Tracker.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Why me?”

“You are one of the very few paranorms who can come out in daylight.” He grinned. “And you’re predictable.”

Predictable? As a PI, maybe I was. That was going to have to change.

I said nothing, just stared at him. I didn’t know if he was bluffing about Rodán, so I had to call his bluff. I almost groaned when he drew out his baton and snapped it to its full length.

“Carl.” Smith looked up, somewhere over my shoulder and made a slight motion with his head. By the smell of alyssum, I knew it was another Metamorph who moved in front of me. Also dressed in a NYPD uniform, Carl looked and walked like a flesh and bone version of Robocop. Built like a power weightlifter with too much muscle, he was slow to move. “Get the Proctor,” Smith said.

My heart pounded and my body radiated with tension. The bulky Metamorph strode through an archway of the place we were in, his bootsteps loud against the tile floor before the sound finally faded.

The tapping of high heels came from the other side of the archway just moments after the Robocop Metamorph left. I continued to stare at the archway as another Metamorph walked in.

With rich waves of mahogany brown hair and big gray eyes, this Metamorph was gorgeous—at least the replica of the human or paranorm she mirrored was. And she knew how to dress. Despite her sophisticated, beautiful looks, the fake innocence in her eyes and her pouty lips made her look like a spoiled, pampered, brat.

“Becky.” Smith went to the woman and hugged her in a way that made their relationship obvious. He kissed her before he pinched her ass cheek through the fine organza of her dress.

“Have I missed anything?” she said in a voice so squeaky it caused me to wince.

Footsteps again, only this time I heard two pairs—one pair stepping purposefully, the other walking in unsteady shuffles. I glanced back at the archway in time to see the muscle-bound Metamorph shove Rodán into the room. He was shirtless and appeared to be drugged, his body and face bloody and bruised, his white-blond hair matted with blood.

Rodán collapsed face-first on the tile.

And didn’t move.

Chapter 3

“Rodán!” My cry cut the air in an involuntary shout. I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to him.

I lunged against my bonds again and this time I nearly toppled my chair. Smith grabbed a spindle of the chair and kept me from pitching forward.

My breath burned harsh and heavy in my chest. “You might as well start thinking up your last words.” I turned my glare to Smith as I spoke with slow, deliberate malice. “You don’t have very many left.”

Almost imperceptible fear glittered in his black eyes before he laughed. A forced laugh that almost made me smile. He was scared of me and I had to give him credit for not being stupid enough to make the mistake of totally disregarding what I might be capable of.

Rodán groaned and a tempest of emotions whirled through me as I swung my attention in his direction: relief that he was alive; followed by anger that he’d been hurt so badly; then shifting into fear as Robocop Carl aimed a handgun at Rodán’s head.

I still couldn’t understand how they had managed to capture Rodán, but then after being drugged and beaten, I was having problems thinking clearly.

“A very important council meeting is being held tonight. As a Tracker this is something you well know.” Smith crouched so that he was at eyelevel with me. “What location has the meeting been changed to?”

A trickle of blood rolled down the column of my throat from an open wound on the side of my head. “What are you going to do?”

Smith scowled. “What do you care, Tracker? You treat all Metamorphs like scum.”

I pulled against my bonds so that my body was a fraction closer to him. He looked like he wanted to shrink back. “You’re so slimy the only thing you’re good for is greasing machinery. Bet you’d screw that up, too.”

The Metamorph’s complexion turned an odd shade of taupe. Smith unsheathed a dagger from his cop duty belt. The sharp edge gleamed in the kitchen light. He grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head back so that I was looking at the ceiling that was yellowed and dirty from years of cooking in this cramped space.

“Tell me or we can use the Proctor’s brains to grease the floor.” Smith bared his teeth in a freakish smile as he leaned over me, blocking out my view of the ceiling. I felt the cold, sharp edge of the dagger’s blade as he pressed it against my throat. “Where has the meeting been moved to?”

I didn’t dare swallow or I knew the blade would slice into my throat. The feeling of helplessness I experienced was not one I’d faced often. I heard the sound of a round being chambered in a handgun and my heart started pounding hard enough the sound of it throbbed in my ears.

“Now, Tracker.” Smith jerked my hair harder. “Tell me or that’s it for both you and your Proctor.”

Sundown was approaching and I would be shifting within twenty minutes. I couldn’t think of any way to stall without getting Rodán or myself killed. I’d just have to take care of the problem then. But for now, what choice did I have?

It took everything I had to force myself to give him what he wanted. I swore to myself that I would stop them as soon as I got free.

I choked out the words. “It’s still at the Paranorm Center near the northern end of Conservatory Water.” I couldn’t help swallowing and gasped as the dagger bit into my flesh. “Below the Alice in Wonderland unbirthday party sculpture.”

The Metamorph narrowed his gaze but released his grip on my hair. “We were told the location had changed.”

“It was a ruse.” I raised my head as he backed up. “There were rumors that some kind of interruption might happen, but the council members didn’t want to move the meeting. To make sure no one would try to barge in, they put out the word it had changed venue.”

My gut churned as I glanced at Rodán, and he groaned and rolled onto his side. Carl still held his gun aimed right at him.

I didn’t feel my own aches and pains. Instead it was as if I felt every bruise on Rodán’s body as I stared at him. I still couldn’t comprehend the state he was in.

“I believe you.” Smith turned and walked away from me. He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Now to put my plan into action.”

“Metamorphs won’t be screwed around with anymore.” Smith drew a Glock from his cop’s duty belt and aimed it at Rodán’s head. “And I’m finished screwing with you, Tracker.” Smith leveled his gaze on Rodán. “If you lied to me, here’s what will happen to your friend DeSantos.”

“Olivia?” I said, but then my mind spun as Smith’s aim followed Rodán’s movements as my former lover shifted and groaned again.

Smith squeezed the trigger.

A loud retort echoed in the kitchen.

I screamed.

Blood splattered the kitchen walls.

Horror and shock made my head spin as Rodán slumped face down in a lifeless mass on the floor. My entire body was rigid, every bone in my body so heavy they might as well have been made of stone. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

“You—” I gagged on useless words as I stared at Rodán’s body. In my mind spun thoughts of, “you promised” and “you lied.” Stupid, worthless words. I felt like I might never breathe again.

“Have your fun, Carl,” I heard Smith say, but his words were muffled by the emotions flaring in my mind.

Fury grew inside me along with the blinding pain I felt at Rodán’ murder. The feelings were so great, so intense, that for a moment I thought I might be able to break free of the elemental cuffs now and make Smith pay for what he’d done.

I fought my bonds as I turned to look back at Smith. He was gone.

“Awww.” The female Metamorph, Becky, moved toward me like a sleek cat. Her high-pitched little girl voice made me want to strangle her. “Did your Proctor go bye-bye?”

The Drow curse words I let rip in the air would have cut her to pieces if they had been knives.

“Tom is a brilliant male.” Becky smiled as she toyed with a heart charm bracelet on her slim wrist. “After tonight, Metamorphs will have not only a place on the council, but Tom will be elected by the council as chief.”

“Have you taken a delusion pill?” I said as I stared at her. “Because you’re not in any existing reality.”

“His plan is perfect.” She maintained her amused smile. “All he needed to know was the exact location before sundown because everyone is ready to play their part.”

For now I had to ignore what had happened to Rodán and try to figure out what was going on. I could do that, right? Drowning in my grief wouldn’t help Rodán come back to life.

“What is his perfect plan?” I asked. I had to stop the Metamorphs. Whatever they were up to, it wasn’t good. I had to compartmentalize the pain I felt. “Play what parts?”

Becky sat on one of the chairs near me, and crossed her legs at her knees. “As the council members arrive at the entrance to the Paranorm Center, a Metamorph will be waiting to take his or her place. The only one who won’t be replaced will be the chief. She’s needed to conduct the meeting and to report our victory afterward, you see.”

Robocop Carl looked nervous. “Miss Becky—”

The female waved him off. “The council guards will also be replaced. Chief Council Leticia and the Dryads will never know the difference.”

Chills turned into goose bumps that prickled my skin. “Then what?” I asked very slowly.

She gave a delicate shrug. “The meeting will be held and votes cast as whether to allow Metamorphs on the council. The meeting was already set to determin whether or not Witches can be represented on the council. Allowing Metamorphs on will be just like letting the Witches have a representative.” She gave a triumphant grin. “It’s a perfect plan.”

“Why do Metamorphs even care?” I asked. “Metamorphs have never been interested in or adhere to paranorm rules.”

I was already thinking she was one eraser short of a pencil and that was made even clearer by the giddy expression on her face.

“Respect!” She punctuated the word as she pointed at me and I winced from the shrillness of her voice that grated on me like gravel beneath the tires of my ’Vette. “And we want Trackers to back off. When the replacement council votes that we are not to be touched, nothing can stop us from taking the places of humans.” She stroked her designer purse. “Like the wealthiest men in the city. We can mirror anyone and take over their lives.”

“And kill the real human or paranorm,” I said, disgust filling me. “Not only are you leeches but you are murderers, too.”

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped as it hit me. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me earlier. Shock, incredulity over the whole situation—it didn’t matter. “You’re going to kill the real council members,” I stated it with disbelief, yet with the realization that my conclusion was true.

“Took you that long to figure it out?” Becky laughed as she stood and looked at Robocop Carl. “Tom did say you could have your fun with her.”

Carl grinned at me in a way that made my stomach curdle.

It was then that I sensed it was sunset.

And Robo-Carl was going down.

Becky would be taken care of, too.

Then it was Smith’s turn.

I sensed the sun disappearing as the city became immersed in the night, and the cuffs fell away from my ankles and wrists. The clatter on the floor startled Carl into aiming his Glock at me, and caused Becky to stumble back in her high heels.

At once the sleeves of my blouse tightened around my arms and at my shoulders as my body grew stronger and the muscles in my slender arms became more defined. I wished I had my leather fighting suit as I rose from my chair.

My body continued to transform into my Drow appearance. Expressions of shock and panic were on their faces as my once fair skin turned into a faint shade of amethyst. The tangled hair I pushed away from my face was now cobalt blue now instead of black. My incisors lengthened into petite fangs.

Every ache and pain from the beatings vanished as my body healed during the transformation.

As I transformed I threw up an air shield around me for protection. Usually I stretched into the changes, but there was no time for that.

Fury built within me that I now fed with my elements, and I chose earth over fire and water. The room began to shake, windowpanes rattling as the earth beneath the building started to buck. Kitchen cupboard doors slammed open and closed. Ceramic plates, bowls, and mugs flew off shelves and smashed to shards on the aged linoleum.

Carl got off a few shots but they bounced off my air shield.

Drawers rolled in and out. One drawer filled with silverware spilled knives, forks, and spoons onto the floor. They rattled and clattered in discord with the pots and pans secured above the stove.

A sack of flour landed with a thud outside the pantry and coated Becky and Carl in white.

Becky let out a scream and landed on her ass on the linoleum that was now cracking from the force of the earthquake I had created.

Carl swung his gaze around the room as he stumbled against a counter and dropped to his knees. His eyes were wide and filled with shock as he fired his gun four more times at me. His hands were shaking as he tried to hold onto the Glock. “If—if you’re doing this, you’d better stop it, bitch.”

The room continued to rock and Carl had to brace his hand on the floor. He couldn’t steady his aim on me. Becky screamed again and huddled in a corner, her palms braced to either side of her in an effort to keep from rolling across the bucking floor. Dark Elves are lithe, our footing perfect, and I easily kept to my feet.