Souljacker Page 5

  “You want to meet me at White Tower Center? Tygur’s death notwithstanding, I have errands to run, and an appointment with Archer Desmond this afternoon. I’d love it if you came with me for moral support. Call me superstitious, but it feels safer to talk about a crazed vampire during the daylight hours.”

  “I’ll meet you at Little Bart’s Food Court at noon. I might as well pick up some of the spell components I need that my own store doesn’t carry, so I’ll see you there.”

  Making sure my necklace was hidden beneath my turtleneck, and my dagger strapped to my thigh, hidden by a knee-length leather jacket, I headed out.

  My car was an ecological disaster zone, but I loved the old gas guzzler. It cost me a small fortune to keep it running, but there was no way I was going to get rid of it. The Barrons Impanala was a two-door convertible—black with glittery flames streaking down the sides. Gaudy as hell, and it tore up the roads with gear-grinding speed, but an old friend had left it to me in his will. It was one of my few remaining links to the past.

  The Overpass Trains were running at full capacity as I zipped past the stations. I hated the crowding on mass transit, but it had freed up the roads. As I sped along the expressway, I thought again about how much Seattle had changed since I first got here. I tried to limit my visits to the past—memory wasn’t always a welcome companion—but the Souljacker’s escape had brought it to land squarely in front of me.

  I’d first arrived in Seattle in 1970. Of course, back then no one knew I was a succubus. I had been as in the closet just like everybody else who wasn’t human. Then, many years later, when we Fae and the Weres had made ourselves known, everything went to hell for a decade or so. And it wasn’t just in Seattle—no, the turmoil had been worldwide. Now, things had settled into a new normal, but the upshot was that the country felt composed of a thousand different kingdoms, each with its own petty ruler.

  The Blood Night District extended over much of downtown Seattle. A mishmash, our district was a haven for those who really didn’t belong anywhere else. It was dangerous and gritty, but despite the decay and abandoned buildings, the area felt like it was thriving and alive. We were thrash in an elevator-music society.

  As I pulled into the parking lot at the White Tower Center, I tried to shake away the gloom. I felt like a cloud was following me, and the image of Tygur sprawled on my floor had burned itself into my mind. With a shudder, I tried to wipe it away, grabbed my purse, made sure my car was locked, and headed to the market.

  White Tower Center. Located below the Underground demarcation line—where the entrance to Underground Seattle was—and directly above the ports, the shopping center was truly the supernatural Pike Place Market. Some humans came here, mostly to find exotic ingredients and to say they had toured the center, but mostly Fae and Weres shopped in the multitude of stores.

  One thing was for sure: shopping centers were just about the same no matter where you went or what your race. Whether you were Fae, Were, or human, you still needed to shop and eat and wear clothes and buy furniture.

  I stopped in at Hilda’s, a clothing store, to see if she had my new jeans. I liked Limeys, a brand that hugged my butt in a way no other brand could. Woven from dyed hemp, they had been inexpensive until they caught on and became trendy. They were extremely comfortable and flexible. As I approached the counter, Hilda herself was manning the pay station. She smiled as she saw me, but I detected a wary note in her aura, a hint of protection magic.

  I leaned on the counter. “My jeans in yet?”

  She nodded. “How many pair did you want? I managed to get in seven. They’re becoming so popular it’s hard to get hold of them. They’re a new status symbol, you know.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I tended to stay one step ahead of the trends, and just as I was settled in, comfortably liking something, it became so popular that it lost my interest. “How much are they running today? And how many do you have in my size?”

  Hilda had my size on file. I spent a lot of money at her store. “Four pair, and I’ve had to mark them up to $99.99.”

  Crap. That was a good ten dollars more per pair than last time. “Give me all four. They’re my go-to jeans.” I paused, catching her gaze. She was glancing over her shoulder as though she were nervous. “Something wrong?”

  “Just a second.” Hilda peeked around the corner. “Just making sure nobody will overhear us.”

  My curiosity was piqued. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be spreading this around any further than it’s already gone.” Leaning close, she said, “My dear, I’ve been hearing some scuttlebutt with your name attached. I don’t know how much to believe, and it’s none of my business, but if I were you I’d do my best to avoid Tricia Jones for a while. I hear she’s on the lookout for you.”

  Oh, hell. Tygur’s wife was also a weretiger. Meaning dangerous and now, pissed out of her mind. Grief had an odd effect on Weres.

  “Yeah, about that…” I had expected the news to get out and of course, it had. “Tygur was murdered in my salon last night. Vampire kill. My wards were breached, and I didn’t realize it until too late.”

  “So it is true, then.”

  I caught a glint in Hilda’s eyes, and flushed. Hilda, who had never had a bad word to say to me or about my business, had suddenly pulled back and was looking at me like I had a disease. But Tygur had died in my house, and that was enough to convict me in some people’s eyes. When you owned a business that was open at night, you were expected to keep your wards up. I had fucked up. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t let them expire, that somebody else had defaced them. What mattered is that it was on my property, and Tygur had thought he was safe.

  A knot formed in my stomach. I wasn’t going to be able to walk away from this, no harm, no foul. No matter how much I tried to prove that it was safe to visit Lily Bound, Tygur’s death was going to have long-reaching ramifications for my business.

  Dizzy, I realized I needed to sit down and make long-term plans for damage control.

  Hilda smiled softly. She reached out and patted my hand. “I hate to say it, Lily, but you’re in for it now. Maybe you should take a vacation? Get out of town for a while.” She paused, then added, “Maybe you should rethink the location of your business. Seattle might not be the best place for…your kind.”

  “I don’t like the tone of your voice. You’ve always been supportive, and polite, but now you’re branding me? I thought the scarlet ‘A’ vanished with the Puritans.” I could see the plastered-on politeness in her smile, masking disdain. I laid the package back down on the counter. “I don’t think I need the jeans as badly as I thought I did. Thank you for your time.” As I turned, she hurried around the counter.

  “Please don’t run off mad. You’ve always been one of my favorite customers—”

  “You should have remembered that before you decided to judge me along with the rest of the fishwives.” And then I remembered: Hilda was a werewolf. Of course she’d take their side once the shit hit the fan. “Good-bye, Hilda.”

  As I marched out of the door, I could hear her on the phone. No doubt she was spreading the word.

  After a quick stop at Haverish’s to pick up some tea for Nate, where luckily I did not encounter the same sort of reaction, I headed to Little Bart’s Food Court. Dani was waiting for me in a corner booth. I slid in opposite her, placing my packages on the floor beside me.

  I told her what had happened at Hilda’s. “Rumors are already spreading. I have to figure out what to do. Dani, this could have a serious impact on my business.”

  “Could? I’d say it probably already has. By the way, while I was at the apothecary, I picked you up a bottle of Zaddul oil. Pour the entire bottle over that rune I fixed last night and it will hold it for another week unless somebody tries to mess up your wards again. It was pricey as hell, but I refuse to leave you vulnerable to another vampire attack before I can put a stop to it. And I still need to check out Nate’s wards. I want to do that b
efore we head over to Archer Desmond’s.” The way she spat out the name caught my notice.

  “Do you know him, by any chance? You don’t sound pleased.”

  “What do you expect? He’s a chaos demon. Witches and demons don’t have a very good history. But no, I don’t know him. I did look him up this morning before I left. Archer is a chaos demon, all right. And he has one hell of a history.” She picked up her menu.

  “Well, don’t stop there. Tell me what we’re getting into.”

  “He bought the Space Needle and turned it into Club Z. Then he seems to have gotten bored and donated—not sold, but donated—the club back to the city. That’s when he opened a PI business. He doesn’t need the money, so he’s probably just slumming till he gets bored and goes back to wherever he came from. But I’ll give him credit. He’s got a stellar reputation for solving cases. He’s also tightly connected with a number of high-powered business types. Be careful, Lily—I have a feeling he could be trouble. He has all the makings of a first-class player.”

  “I’m already in trouble.” At her look, I shrugged. “I promise, I’ll be careful.” I picked up the menu, glancing through the selections. “What are you getting?”

  “Don’t change the subject on me. Lily, one of these days you’re going to meet somebody and lose your heart to them. And chances are it’s going to be somebody on the dangerous side. While you’re basically a sex goddess, you have no experience in dealing with love.”

  “You’re already pairing me up with him? Give me time to meet the guy first. And I don’t fall for players.”

  “I saw his photo. He’s your type, dead on.”

  I stared at the tangle of choices on the menu, barely seeing anything I was so preoccupied.

  “Quit worrying. I won’t let myself fall for anybody. I got too close once and it was a tragic disaster. You know about Marsh. I can’t ever go through that again. And why you think I would go for a chaos demon, of all people…” I shook my head. “Focus on lunch.”

  Dani shrugged. “Fine. I want a bowl of clam chowder and several of their rolls. I love Bart’s chowder.” She waved toward a waitress, who immediately turned our way. Dani had a knack for catching the notice of cashiers and service personnel. Whether it was her natural charm or whether she used magic, I wasn’t sure, but we seldom had to wait.

  She put in her order. I asked the waitress to bring me a double cheeseburger with the works and fries. I also asked for a cup of tea. The din in the restaurant was getting louder as people crowded in for lunch. A mishmash of Fae and Weres lined the counter and filled the booths. A few humans were also in the mix. Bart was famous citywide for his food, and regardless of where people lived, they made it a point to visit his food court.

  “So, when do we go see Archer?”

  “I have an appointment for five p.m. at his office this evening. His building is in a brick walkup across from the Underground. I didn’t realize that until he gave me his address. That reminds me, are you working tonight?”

  “No, I never keep the store open past four in the winter…in summer I’m open as late as eight o’clock. You want to go out to a club? Maybe go dancing tonight? I know you still need a good long feed.” Dani unwrapped the straw for her soda as the waitress deposited our drinks on the table and zipped away again.

  I shook my head. “Honestly? No. After what happened last night, I’m not up for much of anything. I’m so glad I don’t have any appointments today.”

  The numbness of Tygur’s death had worn off, and the aftermath of it was sinking in. I also was beginning to suspect that I might have liked Tygur more than I let on. Oh, nothing more than friendship, but I realized I was really going to miss his visits. The sex was great, but he was fun to talk to too. I tried to brush away the thoughts—it was never safe for me to like my clients too much—but now that he was dead, admitting it didn’t seem to matter much.

  “Well, maybe I’ll come over and keep you company if you don’t mind. My coven was supposed to meet at midnight, but everybody’s so freaked that we decided to put off the meeting. So I have the evening free. We agreed to meet in a few days, to discuss what Rebecca’s death means for the group.”

  As the waitress placed our food in front of us, I stared at my plate. “I’m such an ass. I forgot you lost somebody last night, too. I’m so sorry.”

  Dani shook her head. “We were both in shock last night. And as harsh as it sounds, if the Souljacker is the one who killed both of them, we’ve got more to worry about than the people he’s already taken.” She stirred her chowder, lips pressed together in a frown.

  “Yeah, along with every single member of the India Ink Club. I wonder…if it is Charles, why is he doing this? Did he just go crazy in there?”

  “So you really think it’s possible that he’s the killer?”

  “Who else can it be? The question is, what does he want? And whatever he’s after, are Tygur’s and Rebecca’s deaths enough to sate whatever need he has?” I paused. “Can you sense anything? Do you even want to try?”

  “Not particularly, but I might as well see what I can pick up.” Dani closed her eyes. “I see fury and flame, and hunger…and fear. And there’s…a longing so deep that it falls into a dark hole with no bottom.” A moment later, she shivered and her eyes flew open. “I hate that I can tune into this. His energy is terrifying, Lily. It’s this massive abyss of need and loss. So big I don’t think anything can ever fill it. And there’s nothing else—no other drive except to fill that void.”

  Wanting to brush away the concern on her face, I cleared my throat. “Well, maybe Archer can give us some advice. Because tracking down a vampire isn’t going to be very easy. And even if we do track the Souljacker—or whatever vamp did this—down, what are we going to do then?”

  “You know what we have to do.” She spooned her chowder, frowning at it. “We have to stake him, if we can.”

  I picked up my burger. The line between knowing what we needed to do and being able to do it was a vast chasm. Vampires were strong, and cunning, and top of the food chain predators. Very few were able to hold onto any semblance of their humanity.

  “Let’s change the subject, at least for the rest of lunch. There’s nothing we can do at the moment, and tomorrow I have to plan a cord-cutting ceremony for Rebecca’s funeral. I really don’t want to dwell on that.” She paused, then asked, “Will you go to Tygur’s funeral?”

  I grimaced. “I rather doubt that I’m on the invitation list. And I’m not going to crash funeral rites. And since I answer to Wynter, if I showed up you know they’d contact her, saying that I did something horribly inappropriate.”

  “Good point.”

  As we ate, we focused on anything else we could. Clothes, the weather, an upcoming dance that we were both supposed to attend—it didn’t matter what the topic was as long as it wasn’t connected to death and vampires.

  “Did you hear that Sunny is back in town?” Dani gave me a casual grin over her roll.

  I almost choked on my French fry. “You have got to be kidding. I thought when she left she’d never come back. Why do you think…” I paused. There was only one reason why Sunny Tramero would return to Seattle. “You think she’s getting married?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s a prize catch to any social climber. My guess is her parents decided it was time to cement bonds with another powerful family.”

  And Dani and I were off, speculating about an old frenemy whom we had both been glad to see the back of. Sunny had a knack for spreading rumors and causing trouble wherever she went, but she was as rich as they come, half Fae, and—unfortunately—frequently a pawn in her parents’ machinations. As we focused on keeping our conversation as light-hearted as we could, we didn’t notice the figures standing next to our booth until it was too late.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my husband’s murderer.”

  I slowly turned. Tricia Jones was staring down at me, and she looked pissed.

  Chapter Six<
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  Tricia Jones was six feet tall and had black hair streaked with blond that hung down to her lower back. The look in her golden eyes told me she was ready to kill, and with Weres, the look often preceded action. Tricia was also a knockout, dressed in spandex and leather. She looked like a gym bunny.

  My thoughts scrambling, I tried to figure out what the hell to do. Could I avoid her right hook? How close was the nearest hospital? And why the hell had Tygur come to me with a dish like that at home? After all, the old saying went, why have steak out when you can have steak and lobster at home? And Tricia Jones was definitely not on the fast-food menu.

  “Uh oh,” Dani said, scooting farther back toward the wall.

  Trish was blocking my way. “Well, answer me, you slut.”

  I awkwardly slid out of the booth, but she didn’t fall back, which meant I had to slide out sideways, which forced me to brush against her. When I managed to get on my feet, we were almost nose-to-nose and boob-to-boob. One thing I could say about most Weres—they weren’t afraid of a rumble, no matter how well-armed the other side was.

  “If you would let me explain…”

  “Explain what? Why my husband was found dead in your salon with his dick hanging out? Or why you were fucking him in the first place? Which question would you like to answer for me, Lily?”

  It was then that I noticed that Tricia wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her face was red and blotchy, as if she had been crying all night long. My stomach sank as I realized I was facing a grieving widow. The anger wasn’t for show, which meant it was more deadly than ever. Grief was a dangerous influence.

  As I opened my mouth, I stopped. No matter what I said, it would come out wrong. I paused, considering my options. I didn’t want to do it, but it might be safest to go on the offense. Weretigers would back down if they thought their opponent was more dangerous.