Kelley Armstrong - Personal Demon

I found a dusty jewelry box on the top shelf of the closet-antique stuff that probably came from an estate. Sonny helped me sort through it, leaving the costume pieces behind. Then Jaz burst into the room.

“Got trouble, bro,” he whispered to Sonny. “We’re cutting it close to Guy’s time limit and there’s a couple fighting in the back parking lot. We’ll have a helluva time getting off the balcony.”

Sonny doused his flashlight, lifted the bedroom blind and looked out. “Shit.”

“I know.”

Jaz tried to keep his tone sober, but his eyes gleamed. I could feel the adrenaline pounding through him and turned my face into the shadows so he wouldn’t see my response. When I glanced back at the guys, Jaz had his face averted, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to play the cool professional. For my benefit, I presumed.

“Should we wait or go out the front?” I asked.

“Front’s easier leaving than entering,” Sonny said.

As we talked, Jaz rocked on the balls of his feet, saying nothing, as if knowing he couldn’t be trusted to come up with the safest answer.

“They’re still fighting,” Sonny said after one last look out the window. “You guys got everything?”

We nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

I WENT FIRST,sprinting across the hall with my hood pulled up, face down. A survey of the stairwell showed only one camera, at the bottom and easy to pass unnoticed.

As Sonny shut the door behind them, I whispered a warning about the security camera. When he headed for the stairs, Jaz caught his arm and motioned up.

“No fucking way,” Sonny said. “We’re on a schedule and-”

Jaz caught my elbow. “Come on. I want to show you something.” He leaned forward, eyes meeting mine, that infectious grin making my heart skip. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

“Go,” Sonny grumbled behind us. “Let’s just make it fast.”

As Sonny and I tramped past the sixteenth-floor landing, Jaz hit the last flight at a bound. By the time we arrived, Jaz had already picked the roof door lock. He looked out and murmured, “Perfect.”

As Sonny strode ahead, surveying the roof for cameras or other trouble spots, I stayed by the door, letting my eyes adjust. Jaz came up beside me, his fingers touching my wrist above the glove, bare skin making contact. When I glanced over his gaze tripped away, smile unexpectedly shy. A quick squeeze of my gloved hand and he grabbed my elbow instead and steered me across the roof.

As we walked, his chaos vibes were light, teasing, barely enough to tap my radar. His eyes gleamed, like a boy getting into mischief. I tugged off my glove, then slid my hand into his. He grinned-so big and so bright that you’d think he was ten years old, a girl holding his hand for the first time. Seeing that smile, I knew I was going to fall for him.

For almost a decade now, anytime I’d met a guy and thought I could fall for him, I’d thrown up every barrier. I had too much to hide, too much else going on in my life, and I couldn’t afford the ups and downs-and, yes, the pain-of romantic entanglements. But I looked at Jaz, saw myself falling and didn’t care. Tonight I wasn’t Hope Adams, didn’t have all her problems, her insecurities, her responsibilities. Whatever this became, it couldn’t last. No reason not to let myself enjoy the ride.

Jaz tugged me toward the edge, then let go, lowered himself to the roof and stretched on to his stomach, arms crossed under his chin, staring out at the city. After a moment, he glanced back at me.

“Well, come on.” He waved for me to lie down.

I glanced at the ground.

“It’s not that dirty. You’re washable.” He peered across the roof. “Yo! Sonny!”

Sonny appeared, sighed and shook his head, but sat down beside his friend, knees drawn up. I hesitated, then laid down.

The city stretched out before us, and it was breathtaking. A few blocks away, a bay glittered with the reflection of a hundred lights. Boats bobbed on the water like toy ships. Salsa music drifted on the brine-scented breeze. The humidity from earlier was all but gone, the night air pleasantly cool.

“People knock Miami, but they’re just envious,” Jaz said. “Look at it. Sand, surf, sun every day of the year. Goddamned perfect.”

He went quiet for a moment, then stretched out his hand, pointing to the skyscrapers ringing the bay. “You see that one? Third left from the tallest? You know what that is?”

“No.”

“Cortez Cabal headquarters. I bet if you had binoculars, you could see Benicio himself, up in his penthouse office, counting his billions.”

I laughed.

“Can you imagine working there?” Jaz said. “A waterfront view from every window? How much does real estate like that even cost? And that’s only the location. I hear they have marble floors in the damned bathrooms. The toilets probably run on Evian.”

“Perrier, I think,” Sonny said.

“You know what I mean. All that money. All that power. And where do the Cortezes get it? Not by casting their own spells, that’s for sure. They use our powers to line their coffers. The supernaturals working for them think they’ve got it made. Like our parents, Sonny. Never a bad thing to say about the St. Clouds, no matter what the bastards did to them. They were just happy to have a job. Used them up and spit them out. Like slaves in the cotton fields, pouring out their lifeblood for the masters.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Guy too long,” Sonny said.

I knew we should be going, but neither seemed in any hurry, and sitting out here, when our mark could return anytime, set my heart tripping with a steady stream of chaos.

As I glanced at the distant Cabal headquarters, I found my excuse for staying longer: using the opening about the Cabals to get information.

“So Guy doesn’t care for the Cabals?” I said. “I can see his point. They make life cushy for supernaturals-access to health care, special education for our kids, a community that understands us-but the employees pay for those perks. Still, it’s not really much different from any corporation. They use your skills and give you a sweet benefits package in return.”

“But in a corporation, if you screw up, they don’t kill you. Unless you work for the Mafia.”

“Which is what some say a Cabal really is. So that’s what bothers Guy, then? The abuses of power?”

“More the concentration of power. The old-boys club, to the nth degree.” Jaz waved at the building. “If you worked there, Faith, you wouldn’t have a shot of getting to the upper floors unless you wanted to be a secretary. Not because you’re a woman, but because you aren’t one of them. None of us are. Maybe everyone on those upper floors isn’t a Cortez, but you can bet your ass he’s a sorcerer. No magicians or druids or half-demons. And if you were a werewolf or vampire? You couldn’t get through the front door. Even Guy, who’s a sorcerer, wouldn’t rise very high, as smart as he is. He doesn’t have the connections.”

“Does he talk about this a lot?”

Jaz laughed. “You mean: are you going to have to sit through political sermons? Nah. He might talk about it now and then, but he’s usually quiet.”

“Except with Jaz,” Sonny said.

Jaz shrugged. “He’s got a lot of good ideas. I think it’s just been bugging him lately, so he wants someone to talk to-someone he can sound off to about the stuff that’s been happening.”

“Stuff?”

“With the Cortez Cabal.”

“There’s been trouble?”

“This and that. Dustups.”

Apparently there were a few details Benicio hadn’t included in my debriefing. Surprise, surprise.