Soul Stripper (27 page)

W
hen I stepped out of the bathroom, Julian was already gone. Had left without even a good-bye. Lucien stood outside my door, a snide smirk slithered across his face. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me. “What exactly did you do to our dear angel?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumbled, hiking my purse over my shoulder and stalking outside toward my car. I didn’t wait to see if he was following me. I thrust open the door and got in the driver’s side. Shit. Julian had my keys, too.

“Looking for these?” Lucien dangled my keys outside the driver’s window.

I huffed and rolled down the window holding out a hand, palm up.

“Nuh-uh,” Lucien said, his head shaking. “You’re not driving anywhere. Scoot.”

I knew better than to argue with the most powerful demon in Nevada and did as I was told. I didn’t actually feel like driving either, nor did I know where the fuck we were.

Lucien slid into the driver’s seat. “You’ll fucking kill both of us today.” He pulled out my two necklaces from his pocket. “Here, put these on.”

I held up the necklace from Wills. “But, this—”

“Yes, yes.” He cut me off impatiently. “Julian filled me in on the link. Who gave you the stone?”

“A client—Erik. That married guy I was with at the club.”

“You mean the guy you fucked right before you started weakening? The guy you were with the night before you split your shin open?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, like a scolded child. “Um—yes.”

“Hell, Monica. This never dawned on you earlier?”

I shrugged and clicked my seatbelt. “He seemed harmless. Besides, he didn’t give me the stone until a couple days later.”

He sighed and started the car, pulling out onto the main street. “I want you to keep wearing the necklace, even though it’s clearly a major factor in this whole thing. I don’t want the fact that you’re no longer wearing it to tip the murderer off that we’re onto him.”

 

It took Lucien less than an hour to find out everything on record about Erik. He had just turned thirty-three. Married his attorney wife about eight months ago after dating through law school. She made partner before he did. Two brothers and one sister-in-law. Blah, blah, blah. Nothing about the profile seemed to offer any insight toward him having any knowledge of the arcane.

We were standing outside his office building, looking up at the tall building.

I cringed. “Can’t you question him without me in there?”

Lucien’s eyes lowered dangerously and he shot me a look, forehead creasing with impatience. I held up two hands in surrender. We entered the office and approached the receptionist. Lucien scooped an arm around the front of my waist, pushing me behind him. He leaned on the desk, his charm turned on 100 percent. The woman flushed under his attention, a blush creeping up her neck to her face. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He had her completely under his spell. He was leaning over the desk, entirely in her personal space, and she giggled coquettishly, covering her slightly crooked teeth with a hand over her mouth.

I cleared my throat. I wanted to get up there and finish this as soon as possible. Lucien had her hand in his, cupping it chivalrously as though she were some sort of British royalty.

Her look turned icy cold as she shifted her eyes to me. She pulled her hand back from Lucien’s, defenses suddenly rising. “What exactly is it you need to see Mr. Brooks about?”

Lucien shot me a look that had disdain written all over it. When he turned back to the receptionist, he was gentle and sweet again. “Well”—he rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way—“my
little sister
here got herself in a bit of trouble with the law. And as usual, I’m the one bailing her out. We’re looking for a good defense attorney and heard Mr. Brooks was the best.”

She smiled and leaned forward, her body language relaxing with the mention of our sibling relationship. “Oh, of course. He is the greatest. Let me just call up and make sure he’s available.”

She buzzed up, and within a minute we were being escorted inside a modern office, slick with black ebony wood and silver accents. The receptionist smiled at Lucien. “Now, don’t leave before saying good-bye.”

He gave her a tiny wink, the sort that goes by so quickly that you might think it was a blink. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Have a seat. Mr. Brooks will be with you in just a moment.” She shut the door behind her, shooting one last glare in my direction.

Lucien whistled and leaned in to get a better look at the law degree plaques on the wall. “He’s not doing too bad, is he?”

I thought back to Erik’s wife—her mousy brown hair and dull navy suit. “Lucien, what is the possibility that Erik could be the hand behind such brutal murders?” I picked up a bowling trophy and held it out to Lucien. “He’s on a bowling team, for fuck’s sake!”

Lucien rubbed his temples, circling around with two fingers. “I don’t know anymore. Things just keep getting more and more complicated. Up until you, the murders had been fairly consistent. Now suddenly it’s like he’s toying with you specifically.” He shrugged in a seemingly nonchalant way, but there was a tension about his shoulders. “Which is better for us. The longer he takes, the more time we have to catch the bastard.” His lips twitched into a half smile, and he wrapped his large bicep around my neck in a brotherly hug and kissed my hairline.

“All right, all right,” I said. “Don’t mess up my hair. I can’t waste power shifting for vanity’s sake.”

Lucien released his hold on me as the door swung open. Erik stood before us in a stunning charcoal power suit. He had a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked first at Lucien, and then his eyes bulged as he noticed me, standing slightly behind. “Monica, hi.” He turned and quickly shut the door, peering both ways first as if checking to make sure no one was spying on us. “You got arrested?” He looked me up and down, his eyes raking over my body. There was a flash of something as he saw me—disappointment perhaps? Or maybe that was just my insecurity at having to ration the little bit of remaining power.

I shook my head. “No, no. That’s just what we had to say to get an appointment with you.”

He raised the coffee mug to his lips, taking a sip. I immediately ached for my own cup of java. He walked over to his desk and set the mug down on a coaster before holding a hand out to Lucien. “Erik Brooks.”

“This is Lucien,” I said. “My, um . . .” I paused glancing again at him. We both filled the pause at the same time. “Boss.”

“I’m her brother.”

I widened my eyes at Lucien and he just looked coolly on at Erik. “I’m her boss and her brother.”

“Her boss at the club?”

I waited until I saw Lucien nod before I smiled in agreement.

Erik’s lip curled back in disgust. “You hired your
sister
to work at your strip club?” His eyes shifted back and forth between us, assessing whether this made us just really close siblings or really disturbed.

Lucien didn’t miss a beat, “We were raised on a commune. We’re very liberal.”

Erik’s eyebrows raised. “I can see that.” He walked to the edge of the desk and sat on the corner, folding his hands professionally in front of him. “So, what can I do for you both?”

“Well”—Lucien glanced at me—“my girlfriend saw this stone you gave Monica, and she just hasn’t stopped bugging me about it. I was wondering where you got it?”

Erik took his coffee again, without sipping—just let it sit on his knee. “You came out here to my office—my place of business—to ask where I got a pendant?” His head tilted skeptically. With his mug still in hand he crossed his arms over his chest. “The only thing that reeks of bullshit is bullshit. I’m a defense attorney—I can smell a pile from a mile away.”

Lucien stepped in closer to Erik, his face getting aggressively close. Erik just smirked, cocky. Daring him to take a swing. Knowing Lucien, it wouldn’t have surprised me.

“Okay,” Lucien said. “Yes. Let’s cut the shit. The police came around questioning my sister about that pendant. They seem to think it might be involved in some sort of murder case around the city. I want to know where you got it.”

“What?” Erik looked at me, panic in his eyes. “This is a joke, right?” When neither of us said anything, he slammed the coffee cup down, not bothering with the coaster. “A murder? Seriously? I swear to God I don’t know anything about any murders. I defend scum, but I’ve never done anything illegal.”

Lucien’s eyebrows twitched and he stood there like a statue, staring at Erik in a knowing way.

Erik threw his hands up and used the momentum to stand up from the desk. “Okay, fine, I’ve done some illegal things, but never murder. Never.”

“Okay,” I said, stepping in front of Lucien. “Then where’d you get the stone?”

“A woman had a stand set up in the Hawaiian Marketplace. She went into some new age mumbo jumbo about how it was a balancing stone from the Garden of Eden. I just thought it was beautiful. She kept mentioning the previous owner—a woman named Lilith.”

“Lilith!” I said louder than I meant to and clapped a hand to my mouth—it was a name almost always associated with succubi.

Lucien grabbed my elbow, giving it a squeeze. “And when did you get the stone? How long have you had it for?”

He gave that a moment’s thought. “I think I got it Thursday.”

I almost choked on my own spit. “The day we met?”

“Yeah. I had a meeting on the Strip and just slipped it into my pocket. Forgot the thing was there until after we—well, you know.”

“Can you give me directions to where the jewelry stand was?” I could tell from the grumble in his voice that Lucien was growing impatient.

“You don’t know where the Hawaiian Marketplace is?”

Lucien growled in lieu of an answer, and Erik jumped off the desk. “Sure.” He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the directions. “It was right on the Strip—in the touristy part of the city.” He looked again at me, lust dancing in his eyes. “And how did you get involved in all this?”

My succubus instincts itched at my core. I stole a glance at my reflection in the chrome picture frame on the wall. Sure enough, my skin was subtly more luminous with a dewy nature that was definitely not there hours earlier. The quiet outline of his muscles showed from beneath the expensive suit, and I unconsciously sighed, longing for more of a fix. I shrugged. “It seems as though
you
got me involved in all this.”

“Anything else I can help you with?” Erik inhaled, the scent of my raging pheromones no doubt intoxicating him. His eyes flashed, and his mouth, so deliciously plump, curved into the slightest hint of a smile. My nipples pebbled as I remembered what his body looked like beneath me. I took a step closer and Lucien’s hand darted out to stop me.

“Yes,” Lucien said, “keep the fuck away from my sister.”

W
e were back in the car, headed to the Strip in search of a mystery jeweler. There was a giant Coca-Cola bottle and the New York–New York casino, just as Erik directed. “I doubt she’ll be here,” I said, looking out the window at the various selling stands set up.

“You think I don’t know that?” Lucien growled. He swung his head to look at me, his dark ponytail whipping at his neck. He turned quickly, eyes back on the road. With the precision of a stunt driver, he flipped the car in reverse and slithered into a parking spot. “We have to at least try.” He cut the ignition and abruptly got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

I sighed, weary of investigating. More than anything, I wanted to return to the normalcy of my life. Having to steal souls was not a great life, but at least it was consistent and something I could depend on. This week had been utterly exhausting, and my human body ached with fatigue and strain.

We walked out to the center of the Strip where tables were lined side by side. Vendors called to us, trying to sell us everything from massages to hooker trading cards. Lucien took my hand, pulling me along. He moved quickly—I barely had time to process the various tables. Each time I found one with jewelry, I took pause, but Lucien would just yank me along. “Nope,” he’d growl, and drag me to the next table.

Somewhere along the outer edge of the market, I stopped to admire some dangly bronze earrings with turquoise stones. They weren’t a perfect match to my necklace, but beautiful nonetheless. “Can I help you?” A weathered, middle-aged woman looked at me with kind eyes.

Lucien tugged again at my hand. “No,” he grunted. I held strong, tearing my hand from his.

“Yes,” I said to her. “These earrings, they’re beautiful. May I see them?”

She smiled at me, deep creases framing gentle eyes. Her tanned skin was leathery and I wondered if the years of tanning were worth the battered appearance that resulted from it. “Of course.” She opened the Plexiglas case and handed them to me. Lucien huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Forgive my
brother.
” I slid an angry glance to my right. “He’s always in such a hurry.”

She continued to smile, meeting my eyes with warmth. “Not a problem. Men rarely understand a woman’s desire for jewelry. More often than not, they settle for using it as a way of obtaining forgiveness.”

I blinked, staring at the woman who seemed so wise despite her burned-out, new age appearance. “Tell me,” she continued, “did you get your necklace here as well?”

Both Lucien and I shot up, eyes wide with attention. “Yes!” I responded hastily. “Well, in a manner of speaking. I know the stone was bought here and I’ve been looking for the jeweler. You don’t happen to know where we could find her, do you?”

The woman’s face dropped ever so slightly, perhaps afraid she had lost a potential sale. “She doesn’t come by often. Only a handful of times in the past month or so. I had never seen her before that. I’ve been selling at this market for five years. She’s quite odd—a stunning woman, but odd.”

I had to stifle my own laugh—this strange, middle-aged woman calling another odd. “How so?” I managed to ask, keeping my mouth set to a straight line.

“She seemed to dismiss most potential customers. People would come by, wishing to see something and . . . well, she would act as though they weren’t worthy of it. She had all sorts of explanations for the stones and their meanings. The customers who did end up buying something she would call over to the table herself. As if she were there waiting for them specifically.” The woman’s shoulders dropped and she tilted her head thoughtfully. “It seemed to work so well for her, I even tried it myself. Though, I suppose I would need to be ten years younger with cleavage up to here”—she gestured to her chin—“for it to have worked.”

I mimicked her head tilt in a way that I hoped showed empathy. She would have had to have been
twenty
years younger, but I held my tongue.

She opened her mouth to say something else but quickly snapped it shut and fiddled with the fabric of her flowing peasant skirt.

“What was your name again?” I asked.

“Rhea.” She held out a hand, which I promptly took in mine.

“Interesting,” I said as we shook hands, “Named after the mother of Zeus?”

“You know your mythology!” She stood a little taller.

“Indeed,” Lucien muttered darkly from my right.

“What is it you were going to say, Rhea? About the jeweler?”

She dropped her head. “You’ll think me clinically insane if I say so.”

I leaned forward. “I assure you that
we
of all people will understand whatever it is.”

She sighed. “I practice the art of witchcraft. Never for evil. I was born with a gift—visions. And an ability to see some past lives. This woman, she had an aura about her. One very similar to yours.” She gestured to me and swallowed, her jaw twitching nervously. “And yours.” She looked at Lucien. “They are different than—well, I hate to use the word ‘normal.’ Let’s just say that your auras are anomalies that fascinate me. I knew she was not who she said. There was a power to her.” She leaned closer to me and dropped her voice to a whisper. “But there is a stronger power in
you
. Even stronger than him.” Her voice trembled as she spoke, and she gestured to Lucien. I darted a look to Lucien, who was scowling at the woman. Rhea leaned away and rolled her shoulders back, standing taller. I admired her fortitude—most cower in fear around Lucien.

I nodded, taking in all she had said. I knew better than to dismiss her observations as crazy human dribble. “Do you have any other information about her? Her name? A number or website? Anything?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I believe she called herself Lilith.”

My eyes darted to Lucien. His jaw was clenched shut and his hands were balled into fists at his side.

“Thank you so much,” I said. “And, I will take these earrings.” I handed them over to her, and her face brightened at the mention of a sale.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Let me wrap them up for you. That will be fifteen dollars.”

I leaned into Lucien. “Give me twenty bucks,” I whispered.

“What?” He glared at me. “Buy your own damn earrings!”

“She gave us information—buying one of her products is the least we can do.”

With a sigh, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. After routing around for a moment, he held out a fifty-dollar bill. “All I have is a fifty.”

“Even better.” I smiled and took the bill from his hand before he could tuck it back into his billfold.

I handed her the money and her eyes grew wide. “Oh! I don’t know that I can break a fifty!”

“Keep the change.” I smiled at her. “Your jewelry is beautiful. No amount of cleavage,
or lack thereof,
could sell it better.”

She beamed and grabbed a matching bracelet from the case. “Then I insist you take this as well.”

Lucien leaned in close, muttering low in my ear, “You owe me fifty bucks.”