Personal Demon (43 page)

Elena had recalled that statement with a rueful laugh, because she could imagine few people less likely to need to evade the police than Armen Haig. A quiet and thoughtful psychiatrist, he’d been biding his time, planning his escape and trying to decide whether he could trust Elena enough to accept her help. Then the man financing the operation, Tyrone Winsloe, played one of his sadistic games—the sort that made Carlos look like an amateur.

He’d told Elena that Armen had escaped and tried to force her to hunt him. When she’d discovered it was a setup, he’d given her an ultimatum—hunt and kill Haig or be killed. Haig had saved her from making the choice by killing himself. The ultimate act of selflessness, committed for a stranger.

Apparently genetics was the only thing that ran in the family.

There was little doubt Jaz and Sonny had killed my brothers and exterminated their own gang to cover their tracks, just as there was little doubt they’d fulfilled that parapsychologist’s prophecy. They could become someone else.

There was no mention of the Haigs in the corporate files, but the Cabal had access to public, and private, records in the human world, with a search system that impressed even Paige. We found Armen Haig easily. He’d disappeared in the summer of 2000. Missing. Presumed dead.

We also found Jasper and Jason Haig. Born 1980 and 1981 respectively. Mother: Crystal Haig, niece of Armen. The boys shared a father, identity unknown, but from the DNA profiles, the lab suspected he’d been Crystal’s close relative. The third generation of a supernatural mutation, with both parents in the same bloodline, further accelerating development.

When the boys were preschoolers, their mother had started traveling and hadn’t stopped until her death, after a stint in a mental institution. Her records showed a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia. She’d had one overwhelming delusion—that her sons, who she claimed had “superpowers,” were continually threatened by shadowy organizations known as “cabals,” which wanted to kidnap and experiment on them, like they had her uncle.

There was no indication the Cabals knew anything about Crystal or her sons. But if they had, her fears would have been well grounded. The Cabals fought bitterly for custody of rare supernaturals. For a new mutation like this? They’d have destroyed everything—and everyone—in their path to get these boys. The fact that they
hadn’t
only proved they’d known nothing about them.

What stories had Crystal told her boys? What hatred of the Cabals had she instilled in them? It didn’t matter. Whatever environmental factors had gone into creating Jasper and Jason Haig, they weren’t children anymore. They were brilliant and ruthless killers, able to take on the form of anyone. A threat unlike any we’d ever seen.

I was working through the implications with Paige when a commotion sounded in the hall. I opened the door to see Karl striding down the corridor, smacking an open palm into the chest of a guard who stepped into his path. Griffin tried to elbow past, but I blocked him.

“Why the hell aren’t you answering your cell phone?” Karl snarled, advancing on me.

“My cell—?” I pulled it out and saw the ringer was still turned off from earlier.

“Where’s Hope?” Paige asked.

“That’s what I was calling about.” He planted himself in front of me, lips parted, teeth showing. “They took her.”

JASPER AND JASON
had kidnapped Hope. It was easier to think of them that way, to divorce them from the image I’d already formed of “Jaz and Sonny”—harmless young men who’d been unwitting pawns in a battle between the gang and the Cabal.

Karl had been tracking Jason. As for how or why, he wasn’t about to waste time on explanations. He’d left Hope behind, and when Jason got into a car in a crowded lot, he’d noted the license and make, then hurried back for her. She was gone, and the spot where he’d left her had been rife with Jasper’s scent.

Karl’s black mood only darkened when he realized this revelation—that Jasper and Jason were alive, and coconspirators—did not surprise us.

Griffin said, “So Hope left with this guy and you know she was kidnapped because…”

“Because I know Hope.”

“Are you sure?”

Karl swung on Griffin. Griffin’s cheek twitched—the “tell” that he was activating his armor.

“There are other reasons Hope might go with Jasper,” Paige said.

Karl stiffened, and I knew Paige had been right about the nature of Hope’s developing relationship with Jasper Haig.

“She wouldn’t,” Karl said.

“What I meant is that she might have seen him and followed for a better look. Or maybe he approached her claiming he needed help and, still believing he’d been kidnapped, she went with him. Or maybe she realized he was behind this, and thought playing along was the best way to stop him.”

“She wouldn’t be that stupid.”

Paige flushed and I knew she was thinking of the times she’d done something “that stupid” trying to stop a crime.

She hurried on. “Whatever the reason, she’s with him and we need to find them.”

“No one’s even going to bring it up, are they?” Griffin said. “Maybe he—” a thumb jab at Karl, “—doesn’t see it, but we can’t go rushing in to rescue the girl without considering that she might not want to be rescued. Or that it’s a trap.”

“Hope isn’t involved,” I said. “Now, we need to make a list—”

Griffin strode in front of me. “Did you ever hear what happened with Dean Princeton, Lucas?”

“Yes, I did.”

“So you know? And that doesn’t change anything?”

“No, it does not.”

“Who’s Dean Princeton?” Paige asked.

“It’s not imp—” I began.

“Expisco half-demon,” Griffin cut in. “The only one who’s ever worked for a Cabal. When he was Hope’s age, maybe a few years younger, he was the nicest kid. Wanted to be a bodyguard, but everyone told him he wasn’t tough enough. He worked at it, though. Took a job in security. Got promoted to backup guard for Lionel St. Cloud.

Then they started finding the bodies.”

“Dean Princeton has nothing to do with Hope Adams,” I said. “And to draw an analogy based on racial type is nothing short of prejudice. You cannot—”

“His racial type is what turned him into a killer! Are you saying that’s not relevant? Hope Adams is Lucifer’s daughter. She’s a chaos demon. Did you actually read the reports on Princeton, Lucas? Did you see what he did to those people? Hear all the witnesses testify about what a sweet kid he’d been once? Maybe you’re right, maybe this girl’s demon is still sleeping, but it’s going to wake up, and I’m not sure we should be in such an almighty rush to save—”

The last words were a strangled cough. Karl had Griffin by the throat.

“Hope is not Dean Princeton,” Karl said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I could trot out twenty man-eating werewolves for you. Does that mean all werewolves should be killed at birth…just in case? Where Hope is concerned, you stay clear. You don’t spread your stories about Dean Princeton, especially to her. If you don’t want to help find her, then don’t. But I’m going to and you won’t stop me.”

“
We’re
going to help you,” Paige said, laying her fingertips on Karl’s arm. “He’s thinking of us, not Hope, and we understand that. It doesn’t change—”

A cell phone ring. I murmured an apology, then realized it was Paige’s.

She frowned at the display. “A pay phone? Probably a wrong number. I’ll take this outside.”

HOPE: VISIONS OF MADNESS

J
oan of Arc saw visions of God. Believing she was the messenger of the Almighty she mustered the will and the passion to rally the French against the English invaders. Touched by God? Or by madness? History is filled with tales of visionary madmen, and I had no doubt Jaz was mad, with a fire that burned through self-doubt and moral qualms.

A few days ago, I’d reflected on that impulsive side of Jaz, how he pursued what he desired without fear.

I’d chalked it up to a charming lack of self-doubt and self-consciousness. It was a lack of something all right…

Listening to Jaz, I remembered those moments in Benicio’s panic room, where I’d been unable to comprehend that Troy’s death would be wrong. I’d wanted it. It would serve me. Therefore, it should be.

The demon in its purest form. Ego ruled by id. That was Jaz.

I remembered too my thoughts on first walking into his apartment. I’d reflected on how his cheerful, impulsive nature was kept in check by cold sense, leading him to save money while he had it. That observation, too, came back to haunt me now.

For most people, that lack of self-doubt and conscience would be their undoing. The first time their goal exceeded their reach, they’d do something foolish and die pursuing their mad dreams. But not Jaz. He was crazy enough to hatch impossibly grandiose, destructive schemes and brilliant enough to carry them through. And if he went too far? He had Sonny to pull him back in line.

This hadn’t been the slapdash plan of two brazen young supernaturals. They’d been plotting this for years, taking a job at the Cabal and studying Carlos—the brother least likely to succeed, but the one they could best impersonate. Then they’d infiltrated the gang, seducing Guy with Jaz’s wild visions, swaying them into allies and, finally, into tools to execute their plans.

Kill the most prominent members of the Cortez Cabal family, then take the place of the remaining one?

Madness.

What if Benicio hadn’t planted me in the gang? What if Karl hadn’t called in Lucas? Would Jaz and Sonny have still failed? Even in failure, they’d achieved half their goal, and had a backup plan for the remainder.

Brilliant madness.

Lucas was their new target. They’d kill him, impersonate him and find Carlos guilty of the murder of his brothers. Then they’d let Benicio hand over Cabal power to his beloved youngest son, as Lucas “saw the light” and renounced his former crusade. When the transition was solidified, the old man would die in his sleep.

Lucas was as good a target as Carlos—maybe even better. His age, coloring and physical size were closer to Jaz and Sonny’s. Add lifts in their shoes for a few weeks until people wouldn’t notice the difference. Wear looser suits until they could lose some weight—or have Lucas bulk up. An easy transformation.

Like Carlos, Lucas would be expected to know little about the inner workings of the Cabal, so no one would question his ignorance. He was even more an outsider than his brother, and far less known in the Cabal, making him easier to impersonate.

The only sticking point was Paige.

They couldn’t fool her. So, wisely, they wouldn’t try. They’d kidnap her and keep her out of the way while

“Lucas” took over the Cabal. In the meantime, he’d continue searching doggedly for his wife—suitably heroic and sentimental. By the time he found her, she’d notice he wasn’t himself, but her protests would be chalked up to post-traumatic stress. Besides, he
had
changed—she’d left “Lucas Cortez: Cabal-fighter” and returned to “Lucas Cortez: Cabal leader.”

Whatever Paige’s reaction, Jaz assured me the path was predetermined. Divorce.

“Irreconcilable differences. Completely understandable under the circumstances. She’ll get a nice settlement, and I’ll be free to marry you.” He grinned. “It’ll be perfect. Lucas and Paige, estranged by tragedy and circumstance, parting civilly, and then, after a suitable period, who does he turn to? The beautiful half-demon who helped him find his wife, catch his brothers’ killer and save his father, then stood by his side through it all. A fairy-tale ending.”

The only thing left was for me to call Paige. And I would, because here was the fatal flaw in Jaz’s plan.

Two years ago, when I thought I’d been working for the council, I’d pictured them as a powerful group overseeing perhaps dozens of field agents. That was the perception many supernaturals had…and one the council knew better than to dispute, because it was far more intimidating than the truth: the delegates did all the work themselves. Jaz had heard enough of my conversation with Karl that night in the apartment to figure out I worked for the council. So, to him, I was one of that presumably vast network of operatives.

If that were true, and Paige knew me only as an employee, then the story he’d concocted seemed plausible enough. I’d been seduced into Jaz and Sonny’s scheme by my demon side, but now my real nature was asserting itself and I wanted to make amends. The person I’d naturally turn to was the one outside the Cabal. The one who was powerful in her own right. And the one with a reputation for being unrelentingly fair and merciful.

Had I really considered betraying the Cabal, then changed my mind, Paige was indeed the one I’d turn to.

And she would help me…if she believed me capable of such a thing. Between Paige and Karl, they’d know this was a trap. She’d never accept my invitation at face value and show up alone. No matter how careful Jaz and Sonny were, they were only two men. No match for a Cabal SWAT team.

So I called.

“CAN YOU FEEL
it?”

We stood in an office building alcove, tucked into the shadows. Jaz moved behind me and put his hands on my hips, leaning against my back. When I stiffened, he only chuckled and bent to kiss my neck.

“Not so fast, huh?” He rubbed my hips. “That wasn’t a problem before. We both felt it. Fast wasn’t nearly fast enough. It was like…”

He rested his chin on the top of my head. “I can’t even describe what it was like. I’m at a loss for words.

Can you believe that? It’ll be like that again, Hope. I know, right now, you’re probably thinking ‘fat chance, you son-of-a-bitch,’ but you’ll see. We’ll pull this off and I’ll serve you the Cortez Cabal on a platter.” His arms slid around me. “Yours, mine and Sonny’s. All the power you’ve ever wanted. All the power you deserve. It’ll be…” A shiver ran through him. “Perfect.”

For just a moment, feeling that rising lick of chaos, I saw his dream glittering before me.

He was right. We did have something. I was a half-demon starving for chaos, and he was a chaos feast.

Maybe if I was what I feared I was, I’d hear the rumble in my belly, urging me to partake.

I did feel a rumble, but it was only my stomach churning. Minutes to go. Could I pull this off? I had to.