Hekate's Chalice Page 3

  “How’s Jason doing??”

  “Work or personal?”

  “Whatever you want to share.”

  “On the personal side, Jason’s Jason, with a girl for every day of the week. Work-wise, he enjoys the independence this job gives. He … he’s had difficulty keeping jobs, so I appreciate you giving him another chance.”

  “I’m not prying, just making small talk.”

  “I know.” She smiled and her eyes were soft.

  “Hey there, JB!” A tall good-looking man clapped JB on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Chima! How you doing?” The two men clasped hands and grinned at each other. “Let me introduce you to Gemma, and Gemma, this is Chima, the owner of this esteemed establishment.”

  Chima laughed, revealing his sharpened canines. “Don’t worry,” he extended his hand to Gemma. “I’m only half-vamp, and I don’t need blood to survive. So you’re safe with me.”

  “Good to know,” Gemma studied Chima’s blonde dreadlocks, and pale caramel coloring with appreciation as they shook hands.

  “I guess it’s the half-daemon part that saves me,” he added giving JB a meaningful grin as he took his time releasing Gemma’s fingers.

  JB dampened the rising flush of jealousy as he watched the two of them. “For the record, she works for the agency and has a boyfriend.”

  “Shame,” said Chima with a sigh. “I can tell this one’s a heartbreaker. I was sorry to hear about your dad. How’s he doing?”

  “Thanks for asking. He’s still in a coma. The docs won’t give a definite prognosis; they keep telling me to wait.”

  “So what can I do for you tonight, my friend?”

  “I’m wondering if you’ve heard a sniff of anything unusual?”

  “Any particular kind of unusual?”

  “Witches, daemons, that kind of unusual.”

  Chima thought for a minute. “The only witchy thing going on here was a party of witches came in two nights ago. Apparently visiting a vamp bar is the latest fashion among the covens.”

  “Do you know which coven?”

  “Yep, they were from Hekate’s Lielit coven.”

  “Was she here?”

  “Nope, it was a bunch of younger women.”

  “Would you mind if I had a look at the security tape from that night?”

  Chima hesitated for the barest fraction. “You put in a good word for me with Hekate?”

  JB laughed and looked at Gemma. “Nikki, Chima, and I were in high school together. He and I were the only two hybrids with daemon-blood there, so we had each other’s backs. I can’t tell you how many times he saved my skin.” He turned to Chima. “You haven’t changed! Sure I will.”

  Chima grinned sheepishly. “This way, then. Hey, Leon,” the bartender turned. “Be back in a sec.”

  An hour later, it looked as if JB might have to pull another late night as Gemma returned to the small office with two large cappuccinos. She sat down next to JB and they continued studying the security footage.

  “So what’s the big secret with Zhanna?” Gemma asked, sipping her coffee.

  “Nikki hasn’t told you?”

  “Nope. We haven’t been in the office together recently.”

  “Ah. And I’m well aware she’s more than peeved at losing the IT—especially to a faerie. Those two species don’t get along too happily at the best of times.” JB stopped the tape, relaxed and sipped the hot drink. “I need this. As for Zhanna. It seems our cute little guest was convicted of fronting an eBay scam run by a small-time faerie mafia who sold Faerie Dust on the Internet–”

  “Faerie Dust? There’s no such thing, is there?”

  “No, there isn’t. But this lot promised to change people’s luck and fulfill their desires if they bought whatever it was they were selling—probably dust from vacuum cleaners or something equally unpleasant. But Zhanna lucked out, ‘cos she’s the Faerie Queen’s great-great-great granddaughter or something, so instead of spending a hundred years in faerie lockup, she got a forty-year banishment from Faerie Land to be carried out under my dad’s supervision.”

  “Your father knows the Faerie Queen that well?” Gemma’s voice rose a notch.

  “Long story. Anyway, seeing as how Dad’s out of action, the happy responsibility of overseeing Zhanna’s sentence passed to me as his next of kin.”

  “Forty years?”

  “Ah, but on the upside, a year in faerie time equates to twenty-four hours human time, so it’s not as harsh as it first sounds.”

  “Oh, good to know and now I get the falling asleep thing. I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Isn’t she vulnerable here in our world?” Gemma said.

  “No, and don’t waste your pity. She’s tiny but faeries have more power in their little fingers than most of us have in our whole bodies.”

  JB threw back the last of his coffee. “It’s well after midnight, let’s finish this up.”

  They resumed checking the security footage.

  JB suddenly leaned forward. “Wait, rewind a bit.”

  Gemma obliged.

  JB leaned in close to the screen. “Those women are Hekate’s witches. I recognize her from this morning.” He pointed at a cluster of young women giggling and chattering as they entered the club and seated themselves in an empty booth. “That’s Nadia.”

  They watched as the women ordered drinks, and apart from trips to the bathroom and a few dances with each other, they appeared to be having a regular girl’s night out as they ogled the vampires, weres, and humans who captured their attention.

  “Who is she talking to?” Gemma paused the tape. “That one.” She indicated a young woman with short black hair cut in a stylish bob, wearing a strapless red dress. “That’s the third time she’s gone to the bathroom in the last fifteen minutes. Who’s she’s talking to? He’s not a human or a vamp, is he?” She zoomed in on the couple huddled in a darkened corner.

  “No. He’s definitely a daemon.” JB said. “I picked up a faint trace of a daemon at Hekate’s house, and I would guarantee she never invited one in, so maybe there’s a connection. There must be a strong reason for him to come into a vampire bar because believe me they’re the most xenophobic race of all.” He took a screenshot of the pair on his cell phone. “Zhanna can find out who she is from the files. Let’s see if she leaves with him.”

  They’d barely resumed watching when JB’s phone rang. He listened for a few minutes. “Yes, I’m on my way.”

  “Everything all right?” Gemma’s attention remained on the screen.

  “No, that was the hospital. I have to go. Can you finish up here?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “I’ll get Chima to order you a taxi.”

  “No, it’s fine. I might want to hang here for a while.”

  “Gemma, that’s an order.”

  “You think I can’t take care of myself?” For a second they locked gazes.

  “It’s not that, and you know it. I have no problem if you want to come here on your own time. But if anything happened to you because I left you here working on a case—that’s on me. And I’ll get Chima to make sure you get into the taxi.”

  She glared up at him, her green eyes blazing with rebellion, but his tightened jaw and the red flicker in his pupils told her she wouldn’t win this battle. She blinked first then nodded. “Okay, okay.” She raised her hands in surrender. “You’re the boss.”

  ***

  JB squeezed his father’s hand, his gaze flicking between the beeping machines and his unconscious father’s face. He swallowed the tears that threatened to fall.

  A sudden popping sound had him on his feet and turning around, adrenaline racing through his bloodstream. His eyes widened as a seven feet tall powerfully built daemon, dressed in a black Armani business suit and matching turtleneck sweater, stepped through a flickering luminous portal into the room bringing with him the faintest whiff of sulfur. The shining gap between realities closed behind him with a soft pff. “Jean-Baptiste. A pleasur
e to see you. How is your father doing?” His deep rich bass filled the space, and his pupils flickered with small crimson flames as he gazed at his grandson with affection.

  JB spluttered and almost choked. Apart from the heat radiating from his body, the sharpened horns sticking out of his head, and his bronze burnt copper complexion, he resembled any other businessman in a suit. He’d only met his grandfather once when he was six years old and had never forgotten the experience of being tossed in the air and cooed at by the strange man with his fire-colored face. He’d been fascinated by the flickering light in his grandfather’s pupils and poked him in the eye. Ascepius had thrown back his head and uttered a loud booming laugh that had terrified the small boy.

  The daemon appeared not to have aged. His thick black shoulder length hair showed not a single gray hair; his teeth were as brilliantly white against the blood-red lips as he remembered, and his burnished copper skin showed not a single wrinkle.

  JB’s mind was a complete blank. Seeing his grandfather pop out of the ether into the hospital room seemed to have severed the connection between his brain and his tongue. He stared openmouthed, wondering if Chima had dropped a hallucinogen into his drink.

  “Yes, it’s been a while, but I’m sure you remember me.” The daemon slid around JB and studied Jean-Baptiste Sr. “I understand why my son kept you away from me. His childhood was difficult.”

  JB flashed on a number of the stories his father had related; term time and school with his Cherokee mother on the reservation, and holidays with his father in Hell. In both places Jean-Baptiste Sr. had been the outsider, who was teased, bullied, and hated for being different. He hadn’t wanted his son to have the same experiences, so he and his half-Irish, half-elf wife, Caileen, had brought JB up in the city of Tropolis, where at least he wasn’t the sole hybrid. “Yes, I remember he said his half-brothers used him as a guinea pig to hone their skill in possessing humans.”

  “It’s a fact our species has a degree of contempt for its mixed race offspring, and hybrids are particularly vulnerable to such control. But on the positive side, he learned to resist domination.” Ascepius appeared lost in his memories for a moment. “I love my son, and I welcome the chance to further our relationship, even under these unfortunate circumstances. You are, after all, my blood.” His eyes fired red sparks as he laid his heavy hand on JB’s shoulder.

  JB was struck by how vastly alien in nature to humans daemons were in spite of the basic similarities of body shape, and number of limbs etc., “Only a quarter of my blood is daemon.” He glowered up at his grandfather.

  Ascepius’s eyes narrowed and the flames in his pupils danced with blue sparks, but he said nothing and looked from JB to his son. “Here’s my card. If you ever need anything, call me.”

  JB took the offered card. Despite his distrust of his grandfather, it wasn’t smart to annoy any powerful fiend, and Ascepius, as the head of one of the most dominant daemon families, had a formidable reputation. JB studied the card. “You have the Internet in Hell?”

  “You’d be surprised at what we’ve got. Now put the information on your phone before you accidentally lose that card.”

  JB heard the threat, despite the softness in his grandfather’s voice, and decided, at least for the moment, obedience to his wishes was the wiser option.

  Ascepius checked his watch.

  JB’s eyes bugged out at the size of the rose gold wristband and elaborate watch face. He could pay his entire staff’s salary for a year and more with the price of that Rolex.

  “You must come and visit sometime… meet your cousins and the rest of your family.” And with that parting invitation, a pop, and a pff, Ascepius vanished.

  Chapter Five: Wednesday, 10.30am

  JB finished pulling on the clean T-shirt over his head as he reached the top floor. His father owned the building, and living in the spacious, if somewhat messy, second-floor apartment possessed advantages, the best of which was making it out of bed, through the shower, and up to the office within ten minutes, though his record was five. As he opened the door, Nikki dashed passed him. “Got a tip. Yesterday was a no-go, but the car that trailed you has been spotted outside an address in south Carlton. I’m off to check it out,” she said hurrying down the stairs

  “Great,” he replied, but she’d disappeared, the sound of her steps fading before the front door banged. He entered the office feeling positive. They might finally have a lead on who ran down his father.

  Gemma, Jason, and Zhanna sat around the big table working on their laptops.

  Zhanna was doing her prom queen impression today. A long sapphire blue gown, its low-cut neck revealing somewhat more than necessary of the faerie’s tiny bust, heavy–but normal compared to yesterday–make-up, and blonde curls crowned with a sparkling diadem.

  JB blinked but knew better than to comment. Coming up with new looks and playing with her appearance kept her mind occupied. The last thing he wanted was a listless depressed faerie lying in a desk drawer the entire day.

  “Morning, everyone.” He sat down opposite Gemma and opened his laptop. “Quick update, still nothing on the hit-and-run car, but Nikki’s following up a lead on the stolen car that tried to follow me the other night. I tried to get hold of Hekate to save us time identifying the witch with the daemon contact, but she’s out of town at a coven leader’s conference and took Maya with her. She is one busy woman. I take it nothing else useful from last night?” He looked at Gemma, who shook her head. “So, we have four days left to solve this case. Do we have anything interesting yet?”

  “No, but with everyone helping, we should identify her soon. We’re almost finished with the full members, and Jason and Gemma are starting on the affiliate members. This coven has an extensive reach,” Zhanna primped her hair. “And Jason says if I’d been at his prom, he would have danced every single dance with me.” She fluttered her eyelashes at the current object of her affections.

  Gemma snorted. “Prom night?”

  “Shut. Up.” Jason’s tone silenced his twin but didn’t wipe the smirk off her face.

  “Zhanna, anything on Slipovatch? “

  “No. He’s a retired teacher, who doesn’t even have a parking ticket on his record. “

  “Good. At least we can eliminate him. Anyone for donuts?” said JB, pulling out his phone, and walking over to the coffee machine.

  Zhanna clapped hands and waved her wand leaving a trail of rainbow sparks flickering and flashing in the air. “Sugar time! Yeah,” she crowed.

  At eleven o’clock, JB announced, “Sorry, guys. I’ll be out for a while. I’ve got an appointment with my father’s consultant.” He grabbed his leather jacket. “Keep working through that list. Something will show up.”

  “We’ll text you if we discover the witch’s name,” Zhanna called as he headed out.

  The good mood engendered by Nikki’s news that morning dissipated as JB’s thoughts spiraled out of control as he crawled through the mid-morning traffic. What would the consultant say? Was payment from the current cases enough to pay the staff salaries this month? Were any bills due this week? He didn’t want to fire anyone or have to consider paying the twins a half salary each and making their lives difficult.

  Gemma and her brother were orphans, brought up in foster homes, and she was highly protective of her brother. He had greater psychic ability, but she had the brains. She never gave details, but he knew she often rescued him from situations far more serious than a romantic liaison gone wrong.

  His mood shifted as he remembered breathing in Gemma’s rose musk perfume last night, and how relaxed he’d felt in her company as they’d worked side by side. Independent, feisty, and beautiful, she was everything he admired in a woman. He was aware Gemma and her boyfriend were going through a rocky patch, but until she was free, he would have to appreciate her from a distance.

  The consultant, Dr. Brexit, was serious. “Your father’s condition isn’t stable, and there’s always the possibility of partial or total
loss of brain function. We have no way to predict the outcome until he regains consciousness. And you must be prepared that he may not recover,” he informed JB.

  Afterward, he walked through the hospital and out to the car park brooding over the doctor’s words. The bright sunshine and clear blue sky added another layer of unreality to what was happening to his father, and he didn’t want to think about any ‘what if’ scenarios. JB Sr. had been devastated by the death of his wife five years ago, and it had taken a year before he emerged from a grief-stricken depression. Since then he’d taken more and more shelter in his religious practices. As JB approached his car, his phone buzzed. He checked the caller. “Yes, Nikki. What’s new?”

  “I found Slipovatch’s car. A heavyset guy drove up and parked outside thirty-six Russet Avenue as I arrived. He took a few shopping bags out of the trunk and went into the house. Do you want me to settle in for a stakeout? Otherwise, I need backup to approach him.”

  After several harrowing encounters, JB Sr. instigated rules for approaching people that JB stuck to wherever possible. Normal non-threatening humans could be approached one on one, but investigators weren’t to approach non-humans or intimidating normals except in pairs—another reason JB hesitated over firing Jason. He and Nikki–the only other investigator till he took on the twins–had worked separately when needed, and despite being able to pass for a slender human female at a quick glance, Nikki had been shot at, tasered, and assaulted on a number of occasions when on her own.

  “Sure. I’ll tell Zhanna to send Jason. No change with my dad, though my grandfather decided to pay a visit last night.”

  “You mean–”

  “Yep, the one and only. Okay, I got another call. We’ll talk later, Nikki. Take care.”

  “You too.”

  “Hi, Zhanna. What have you found out?”