Demonicus (Overworld Underground Book 2) (15 page)

"An attack in Colombia?" It reminded me of Franco, the weapons dealing vampire.

"Vampires aided by battle mages. They nearly killed Thomas Borathen and abducted Justin Slade." He yawned. "Pardon me, I haven't had a chance to sleep."

I revisited my thoughts from last night.
Major upheaval in the supernatural world.
"George, have there been many other attacks like this recently?"

"There have been other unrelated incidents, yes."

"Are incidents like this common?"

He paused. "No, not at all. Most of the time we have to cover up accidental supernatural exposure, but nothing as intentional as this."

"I think these events might be related." I wasn't sure why I felt so certain. "The Exorcists have started following a new leader named Albert Montjoy, causing a large split in their faction."

"I wasn't aware of this. Then again, the Exorcists broke from the Templars a long time ago." He paused. "Was there something else?"

"Yes, the huge demon summoning." I wished he were in front of me instead of on the phone. "Surely it's no coincidence that happened right after the Exorcists decided to follow Montjoy and Daelissa."

George's voice grew very serious. "Did you just say Daelissa?"

"Yes. I think I pronounced it correctly."

"I will be back in Atlanta tomorrow evening. Let's not discuss this further over the phone."

"Okay, but wait." I said the words quickly so he wouldn't hang up. "Tyler and I want to do the orientation class. What do we need to do?"

"I will text you directions." I heard muffled conversation as he spoke to someone else. "Until tomorrow, Miss Glass." He ended the call.

I knew I should go back up to the office, but I felt agitated and restless. I could almost see a pattern to all this madness, but it eluded me like an itch between my shoulder blades. I walked down the street to a coffee shop, ordered a coffee and bagel sans the cream cheese. George's text blinked on my phone a moment later with a very strange address.

Phipps Plaza, lower parking deck, rear entrance, red parking zone, five PM today. Code word: cold gravy

A ritzy shopping mall seemed a bizarre place to hold a secret orientation about a supernatural society, but there were things about this strange Overworld I'd probably never understand. I hoped Tyler would be back in Atlanta in time to go. I sent him a text to which he quickly replied.

I'll be back by then. Will they be serving snacks? ;)

I snorted and responded.
I'm sure they'll have blood candy for vampires and cupcakes topped with soul frosting for demons, dear. :P

I'm afraid cupcakes will ruin my figure.

I wanted to call him and hear his reassuring voice and almost sent him a text saying as much, but put down the phone and chewed on my bagel instead. Thoughts cluttered my mind, but I couldn't put them in any order that made sense. There was something afoot in the Overworld, but I simply lacked the knowledge to piece it together. I hoped George might make more sense of it all.

So lost in my thoughts was I, that I nearly bumped into Detective Long on his way out of the office tower.

"I've been looking for you," he said.

Fear made my heart jump. Was he here to arrest me?
Of course he isn't, you ninny!
I hadn't done anything wrong.

"I need to ask you some questions." He held a folder and briefcase in one and motioned to a nearby bench. We sat down.

Steeling myself, I nodded. "Go ahead."

"How was your relationship with your neighbors?"

"Non-existent." I'd occasionally seen my neighbors in the hallway, but hadn't said much other than a quick greeting on my way in or out.

"Can you elaborate?" he said.

"On what?" I looked at him for a moment. "I almost never spoke with them."

"Are you aware your neighbors filed noise complaints against you?"

"Why would they do that?" Isabel and I were always very quiet. "We never threw any parties or had guests."

He returned a dubious look. "According to the concierge at your apartment building, your neighbors reported you for excess noise on several occasions. The concierge also remembers you entering the building late one night, dripping wet and, to quote him, 'Obviously high on drugs, judging from her appearance.'" The detective paused as if to let his words sink in before he spoke again.

I didn't let him continue. "Firstly, we were never warned or told of any noise complaints, so the concierge must be confusing us with someone else. Secondly, I had an accident with a bottled water on the night I returned wet." It was a lie, of course. I'd doused myself with holy water after discovering Tyler's true nature. "How the concierge on duty that night could equate being wet to being high is simply beyond my comprehension." I resisted the urge to jab him in the chest with a finger as one might do with a saber during a fencing match. "Are you somehow implying that I murdered my neighbors because of a noise complaint?"

"Not precisely." He displayed a complaint form with my apartment complex's letterhead. "This is a report of an altercation between Tyler Rock and your neighbors, the Reynolds."

Mr. Rock pounded on the Reynold's door and yelled at them. He said they needed to leave his girlfriend alone or he'd kill them. They shouted a lot and Miss Glass had to pull him away.

I tried to take the document from him, but he tucked it back into the folder.

"Who wrote that?" I asked.

"One of your other neighbors."

"Which in particular?" I resisted the urge to snatch the folder from him. "It's an outright lie."

"I'll need a statement as to your whereabouts Saturday night."

My mind raced over recent events.
We found the demonicus Saturday, right?
Sunday had been Franco and Barboar. So much had happened in such a short period of time it was a big blur. I certainly couldn't tell him about what we'd really been doing, but coming up with an elaborate lie wouldn't do either. "We stayed in that night, if you must know."

He wrote that down. "I'll need a written statement from you and Mr. Rock."

"I can certainly write that down."

A smug look crossed his face. "What were you and Mr. Rock doing the night of the gunshot in his building?"

My heart went cold.
Is he somehow tying these events together?
I knew how they were related, but surely, he had no idea. He was desperately grasping at straws. "Oh, something quite dreadful—we were talking about what to eat for dinner."

"Isn't it true Mr. Rock has violent tendencies?"

I flinched at the sudden question. "Absolutely not."

"How many arguments did he have with your neighbors?"

"None!"

"Who fired the gun?"

I almost fumbled the answer. "I have no bloody idea and that's the last question I'm answering."

He tucked the folder into a briefcase. "Let's go up to Mr. Rock's office so I can get written statements from the two of you."

"Tyler isn't here."

He checked the time. "When do you expect him?"

"I'm not sure. He's out of town on business."

The detective looked around as if he were expecting something or someone and frowned. "The sooner he meets with me the better." It sounded almost like a threat. "Otherwise I might have to get a warrant to search his condominium."

Anger surged and I very nearly said something nasty. It then occurred to me that the detective's bizarre accusations might not be his fault. Suspicion replaced the anger. I opened my senses and took a good long look at Detective Long. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no supernatural influence on him I could detect. Then again, if he was under a spell, I might not be able to glimpse it.

I noticed a twitch in his eye as I stared him down, and a bead of sweat caught in the wrinkles of his forehead. If those weren't signs that he was nervous about something, I didn't know what was. I'd nearly overlooked that there might be a non-supernatural reason for his behavior.

"He and I don't have time for your games, Detective."

The detective picked up the folder and stood. "Then I suggest you ask him yourself. It will be much cleaner if I don't have to get a warrant. That could cause embarrassing publicity for Mr. Rock."

I remained sitting. "Who is putting you up to this, Detective?"

He stiffened. "Nobody puts me up to anything, Miss Glass. I'm doing my job." He leaned closer, a snarl curling his lip. "I want permission by tomorrow, or I'll bring a warrant with me next time."

"I'd be very surprised if you could get a warrant on such thin evidence."

He smirked. "Then expect to be surprised." He turned on his heel and marched to an illegally parked sedan.

The coffee must have perked up my presence of mind, because I had the sense to look into the vehicle to see if anyone else was with him. It was empty.

My phone chimed with a text message from Jack.
Go to a news website now!

I did as he commanded. A photo of Tyler and me stood beneath a stunning headline:
Gruesome Murders at Home of Rock's Fiancé
.

Chapter 13

I immediately called Tyler and went to voicemail. Hands shaking, I read the story on my phone and then watched a live stream of Brandon Rock leaving a building and being mobbed by reporters.

"Mr. Rock, where is your brother?" One reporter asked. "Does he have any comment on the murders?"

A blood vessel stood out from Brandon's forehead and he wheeled on the reporter. "As I've told the countless reporters who have called me today, I have no comment on the matter."

A woman shouted a question above the noise. "Have police tied his fiancé to the murders?"

My stomach went ice cold.

Brandon gave her a look of disbelief. "What sort of wild accusation is that?"

The rest of the reporter mob grew quiet as they listened to the woman speak.

"According to witness statements, Tyler was seen threatening her neighbors after they complained about excessive noise from his fiancé's apartment." She smirked as if relishing the attention of the crowd. "These are the very same people who were found dismembered in her bathtub."

A troubled look passed over Brandon's face. "I've heard nothing of this." He looked around at the cameras. "I'm sure my brother had nothing to do with this. He's overcome his past problems and wouldn't jeopardize his future with such nonsense." Brandon nodded to some other men in suits around him and they cleared a path to a waiting limo. He briskly walked to it and climbed inside while the reporters continued shouting at him.

A reporter turned to face the camera. "It appears there may be more to this developing story than we first thought. Is it possible Tyler Rock and his fiancé are involved with these murders?"

The scene switched back to a studio where a man and woman behind a news desk debated several possibilities, all of which were completely absurd, the least of which was that I was engaged to Tyler. The noise of car doors opening and shutting took my attention from the phone.

Three news vans were parked at the curb. A reporter looked at a small mirror and applied fresh makeup while a man unpacked a large camera. Other news crews began to do the same. I might have stared longer if it didn't suddenly occur to me that they were here to see Tyler or me.

Thankful the bench was far enough from the entrance of the building to avoid being seen by the reporters, I got up and walked toward a nearby information kiosk. I hid behind it while the reporters set up an ambush for me. One reporter tried to go inside the building, but was quickly ushered out by security.

I called Jack. "I can't get back inside the building. There must be six reporting crews down here."

"Damn. Bad news travels fast." He clicked his tongue. "Maybe you should go back to Tyler's until this shit storm blows over."

"I don't think it will." I peered from behind the kiosk and wondered how long it would take for the reporters to give up and leave. "Besides, they're probably waiting at Tyler's place too."

"True." He blew out a breath. "I didn't know you and Tyler were engaged."

"We're not. They seem to be fabricating everything from the depths of their wildest dreams." Just thinking about it made me seethe. "Some woman claimed there were witness reports of Tyler threatening our neighbors after a noise complaint."

"Tyler's only been over to your place what, three or four times?" Jack said. "And I can't imagine him threatening anyone."

"Neither he nor I even spoke to any of my neighbors, much less threatened them." I turned and leaned against the kiosk. "The investigating detective just confronted me a moment ago with all sorts of absurd accusations."

"Something smells wrong with this entire situation." He made a thoughtful noise. "What if whoever wants to sabotage the company is doing the same thing to Tyler's image? I mean, if stockholders don't have faith in a CEO, the stock plummets and makes it easier to do a hostile takeover."

"The possibility occurred to me. I even checked for signs of—" I'd almost said something about demonic influence but caught myself at the last minute. "I mean, he seemed nervous. I wonder if someone is paying him to do this."

"There's a video clip with that woman you mentioned," Jack said. "It's the one where she told Brandon Rock that Tyler was seen threatening your neighbors." He sighed. "It's getting tons of views right now."

"What news organization was she with?" I asked.

"I'm checking."

I looked out at the reporters once again. A man on the other side of the kiosk looked up. Recognition lit his eyes and I belatedly saw the ID badge from the BBC hanging around his neck.

"Emily Glass?" He asked.

I nearly bolted like a startled deer, but another thought hit me. "What in the world is the BBC doing here?"

He seemed surprised by my question. "Are you Emily—"

"Again, I ask you, what is the BBC doing here?"

He chuckled. "Well, bit of a strange thing, but Emily Glass—you—are originally from England and we do report news from the U.S."