Soul Survivor (5 page)

T
hough I didn't often think of my family crest, I still recognized it immediately. After years of my parents teaching me to knit the crest onto our clothing and branding our sheep with that symbol, it wasn't something I could easily forget.

I immediately thought back to Adrienne's case—didn't she say it was out of town in Utah? Why did I have to be so petty and not bring the file home? Though I hadn't had any intention of helping initially, if this case had anything to do with my family lineage, I had no choice but to look into it. Was it a warning to me? About the bounty on my head? Curiosity kills the damned.

I mopped up the spilled cereal and grabbed my things, making a mad dash for the cafe. Could it be the same serial killer Adrienne and Damien were looking for? I didn't think she had mentioned anything about the killings being quite so public, but then again, I hadn't given her much time to say anything about the case. I was
supposed
to read about it.

As soon as I walked into the cafe, I could hear muffled shouting coming from Drew's office. I recognized Adrienne's voice, calmer, but tension broke with each word. When I looked to my left, Damien was sitting at a table with his chair leaned back on two legs. He looked at me, taking a long, slow sip of his black coffee. “They're having a fight.”

“No, shit.” I replied. “About what?”

“We have to leave again. On that case she was asking you about yesterday.”

“Where are you going?”

“Salt Lake City.”

“So the news today—that
was
your case?”

He rolled his eyes. “So I guess you didn't take a look at the file? What the Hell is it with you and reading those files?”

Tension set in my jaw and I gnashed my teeth. “I was a bit too busy last night working to read a case I'm not even getting paid for. You know, that little job I have every night.”

“Ah, yes.
Working
.” There was a pause as he stared at me and I couldn't help but picture him bound naked to the chair. It was rare that I felt self-conscious, but the scrutiny of his gaze was enough to make me shift my weight back and forth. “I managed to make it home all right, in case you were wondering.” His gaze held mine, his eyes flickering like a flame.

I smiled and hitched my bag higher onto my shoulder. “I never doubted you for a second, Detective Kane.” Then I added, more quietly, “At least you had that wood chair to keep you company. She can be a real talker, huh, elemental?”

“She wasn't the only wood I had to keep me company.” He cleared his throat, gray eyes crinkling at the corners. “By the way, I'm going to have to cancel dinner tonight.”

Though his voice sounded regretful, there was the smallest quirk to his mouth as if his erratic schedule was somewhat amusing. I hated that little translucent smile. He was so cocky. “That's all right,” I replied, “I already arranged a backup.”

His barely-there grin dropped immediately. “What? Who? That Cajun son of a bitch?” he growled.
Territorial bastard, isn't he?
It was of course a bluff; I had no man waiting in the wings, but he and I both knew I could find one faster than a heartbeat.

I leaned in, my breath blowing the hair above his ears as I spoke. “You don't need to know who.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. “Woman, you will be the death of me,” he murmured so quietly that I wasn't sure I was even supposed to hear it.

Turning to walk back to my locker, I heard the clack as he placed his chair's legs all on the floor. I grabbed the file from my locker and rifled through the papers. The first victim had been found on the side of the road, hung across a highway sign, naked, and drowned. As though someone had strapped her down and forced water down her throat with her nose closed. A strange death, indeed. She had then been left on a highway sign for all passers-by to see in a very public and similar manner, like the farmer from this morning.

I flipped through the pictures of her body—there were some wide shots, interiors of the car found next to the crime scene, and close-ups of each body part. I stopped when I came to a macro image of the inside of her thigh. Two puncture marks were bloody and gaping. My hand instinctually touched my leg where I still bore two similar marks. Though most people who saw them initially thought they were birthmarks, they were in actuality scars. A constant reminder of the night I became the succubus standing here today. A shiver slithered down my spine, hitting each vertebra like a step on a staircase as the visual of my family's crest carved into the farmer's arm popped back into my mind.

I tucked the folder under my arm and headed back out front. With my supernatural hearing, I could still hear the fight in Drew's office, but it had quieted down significantly. So much that I was pretty sure Damien and I were the only two who could hear them now.

Walking back out to the front, I sat down across from Damien. “Change of plans,” I said. His eyebrows arched, but he said nothing in return. There was a flash of something in his eyes—anger, maybe. “We're going to have that date after all.”

“Is that so?” There was a coldness to his voice. He lifted his empty coffee mug to his lips and then, as though remembering he had drained the last of it, dropped it back down onto the napkin. “And just how are we going to swing that with you in Sin City and me in Mormon-ville?”

“We're keeping our date because”—I held his gaze, the corners of my mouth twitching into a small smile—“I'm going with you to Utah.”

“You two are dating?” Drew's voice made me jump, and when I turned, I came face-to-face with one hundred and seventy-five pounds of stern mouth and muscle.

As if forgetting that his girlfriend was right beside him, he shook his head and pulled his gaze from mine, turning back to Adrienne. “I want to come along, too.”

Adrienne's head flopped down, defeated. “Drew, you can't tag along. This is an investigation—”

“And you're a civilian,” Damien finished for her, his voice vibrating with authority.

“And just what is Monica?” Drew said, eyebrows hooded low over his eyes.

“She's a . . . consultant. On the case.” Damien answered with the same commanding tone.

I sent Drew a shaky smile, which he didn't bother returning. “Were you even going to ask me for time off? Or did you just assume you'd have a job whenever you chose to return?”

I stood back up, my nose coming to the middle of his sternum. “Fine. Drew, may I please have a few days off to do some freelance work?” I said in a mocking tone.

“No.” I stumbled back a step—there was something on his breath. Whiskey? Wine, maybe?

I stared at him through narrowed eyes and lowered my voice. “Drew, are you—are you drinking again?”

“What?” His voice roared through the cafe and he instinctively took his own step back.

On a sigh, I let the argument go. This was neither the time nor place to call attention to his alcoholism. “C'mon, Drew. You're being petulant. Just give me the fucking time off. How often do I request vacation days? Besides,
you're
the one always telling me I'm better than
this
.” I gestured around the cafe. Then, with a sweeping hand movement across my body, added, “And
this
. Then when I try to take time off for a legitimate job, you say no?”

He crossed his arms, jade eyes hardening into a stare. “You're not even giving me any notice. My answer is no.”

His sudden dominance was both infuriating and sexy all at once. Goose bumps rose on my arms as I remembered our night together, how he'd held me down while thrusting into me.

“No?” I arched an eyebrow and almost imperceptibly shifted myself so that my hair was glossier, eyes brighter, skin glowing. “You sure about that?” I released the succubus pheromone that I so often held in. My irresistible glamour wrapped around his body like silk sheets, coaxing like a soft purr and crooked finger.

Adrienne inhaled sharply to my left and I immediately broke the spell, casting an apologetic glance her way before I could even stop myself. Yeah, I hated her, but so blatantly sexualizing Drew in front of her was a low even for me. As if nothing had happened, Drew's angry gaze returned. “Yes, I'm sure. You really want to go . . . ? You can quit.”

It was our bit again. The same conversation we had had over and over the past six months. He stood in front of me, tapping a foot waiting for my rebuttal.

“Fine,” I said quietly. His mouth tipped up into a triumphant smile.

“Good.” His voice brimmed with arrogance.

I raised my chin, staring into those sparkling eyes. “Fine, I
quit
.”

His arms, which had been crossed in front of his chest fell to his sides. “What?”

“You heard me. I fucking quit.”

His face flushed red and Adrienne rested a hand on his forearm, her touch so soft, fingers merely fluttered over his skin. An instant calm rolled over Drew and he took a deep breath, exhaling it through softly parted lips. Damn that angel magic—the ability to calm people with a simple look or touch. It was one I missed.

“Monica. You don't have to do that. You'll give her the time off, right Drew?”

Though he was visibly calmer, anger still brewed beneath the surface.

“No need,” I said. “I've been meaning to move on from this place anyway.”

Drew's face flushed red at that. Adrienne swallowed and turned her attention back to him. “Okay, Drew,” she said in a willowy voice. “You can come along with us to Utah.”

“What?!” I shouted.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” Damien's shoulders thumped against the back of his chair. “He is a civilian, Adrienne.”
Thank Hell for Damien
, I thought and stood back, letting him handle this one.

Her cheeks plumped with a slight, gentle smile, one that suggested she had dealt with Damien's tantrums before. “Drew's right—Monica's a civilian, too.”

He stood abruptly, his shoulders squared to her. “That is
different
and you know it.”

Her smile deepened and the tiniest creases formed around her eyes and mouth. They might have made another woman look weathered, but on Adrienne, they were charming. “Perhaps. But”—her voice dropped to a whisper even though I was pretty sure Drew could still hear her—“I think he should come along.” Something passed between the two—an unspoken language. “Besides, you'll stay out of the way, won't ya?” She nudged Drew playfully with an elbow.

“The answer is
no
.” Damien's voice sliced through the air with an edge that made the back of my neck itch.

Adrienne just held his stare, not glaring, but not smiling either. The two continued like statues until finally, Damien spoke. “Fine. I suppose it would be nice to have someone to make us our lattes in the morning. I take my espressos as a double shot, Drew.” His muscles relaxed and he fell back into a slouched position in the chair. “Tell me, barista, do you even know how to button a shirt?” He looked up and down Drew's simple Hanes T-shirt, an arrogant grin tickling the edges of his lips.

“What are you doing?” I hissed at Damien through a clenched jaw. He glanced in my direction, then right back at Drew again, ignoring my question.

Drew's eyes narrowed. “Gee, I don't know. I guess I can always have Adrienne button it for me in the morning.” He snaked an arm around her waist, glaring at Damien as he pulled her in for a tight embrace.

“What the Hell are you going to do in Salt Lake City, Drew? We're all going to be working and you'll be . . . what? Sightseeing? It's not exactly a city known for its party scene.”

“Well, lucky for me, I'm not a man known for my partying.” The loving look he'd sported with Adrienne disappeared, replaced with a hardness that was rarely ever directed at me. “Besides, Salt Lake City is a recovering alcoholic's dream.”

“Are you so sure that's what you are these days?” The smell of alcohol was faint, but it was definitely there. And if I could smell it, I was damn sure Adrienne could, too.

Adrienne shot me a look that could make flowers wilt and squeezed him closer, nuzzling into his chest. “Let's go get you packed, huh?” The two walked hand in hand back to his office, but not before she sent me another glare over her shoulder.

“A week with them, and I'll stake
myself
to the center of town square.” I muttered, rubbing my temples with two stiff fingers.

“Me fucking too,” Damien agreed.

A
nother amazing perk of being a succubus . . . you don't have to pack anything when going on a road trip. Not even a toothbrush. I stood in my closet, looking around at my various things. Yes, all of it could have been shapeshifted, but there's still something special about actually owning your clothing. Like owning a piece of history. It's a fine line to tread though—being alive for almost three hundred years, you could become the most interesting hoarder ever, ending up with dozens of storage units all over the world.

If it had just been Damien, Adrienne, and me going on this trip, I could have gotten away with packing nothing. But with Drew tagging along, I'd at least need some sort of bag with me. Something that alluded to me being like every other woman. I grabbed a duffel bag from the top shelf and threw in a couple pairs of jeans, a dress, some T-shirts, and my favorite pink, fuzzy robe. I can't leave home without it.

A sizzle echoed quietly through my bedroom, sounding like bacon on a frying pan. And just as I registered what the noise was, Lucien's power slammed into me, physically knocking my back against the wall.

“Were you planning on telling
me
that you were leaving?”

I coughed, sputtering out an answer. “Yes, of course.” I had actually completely forgotten about asking Lucien for a leave of absence, but that was the absolute last thing he needed to hear at the moment.

“When? From the road? From the plane? Maybe you were going to send me a postcard from Utah with a picture of a bunch of fucking Mormons smiling and waving at me?”

Damn, I'd forgotten how pissy Lucien could get. He almost never exudes such potent power around me—then again, I've been particularly bitchy lately. But considering the stellar work I'd been doing for him and his sector, you'd think he could fucking ease up a little. “Could you scale the power play down?” I said through a raspy breath. “I can barely breathe.”

The power whooshed out of the room as quickly as it had come and Lucien stood before me, arms crossed. Bushy eyebrows were so low over his eyes, wrinkles were forming between them. He was muscular and his raven hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. Lucien had never revealed all of his backstory to me, but I did know that he came from Romania originally. And he was old. Like, really, really old.

I took a deep breath, allowing it to fill my lungs and exhaling before answering him. “Look, I was going to ask you . . . after I packed.”

His face softened into a crotchety smile. “Packing?” He peeked into my bag using his pointer finger to poke around inside. “Oh, yes. That's right.... Your human is going, too.”

“He's not
my
human,” I said, crossing my arms.

“I don't give a fuck about him. Or this trip. Or the ‘murder case' you want to investigate. I'm not losing my best dancer.” I noted how he said
murder case
as if it was an alleged thing.

“Fucking Hell, Lucien!” I threw my hands up. “I'm not leaving forever. A weekend . . . five days at the most.”

He snorted and pushed my duffel bag to the side. “No.” He growled and looked at me, his eyes darkening to almost black.

I grabbed the duffel bag and zipped it up. As if that would prevent him from looking inside again if he wanted to. A thought popped into my head and I looked up at my boss; from the skeptical look that slid over his face, I must not have hid my epiphany very well.

“What is it?” he said, turning his head to the side.

“I'm going to be in Salt Lake City.”

“Yes, I know.” He rolled his eyes and tucked his hands into his front pockets as if he was already bored of me.

“Yes—what if I, er, acquired some souls up there for you? Some Mormon Tabernacle Choir boys would certainly get you noticed by the bigwigs in Hell.”

His eyes flashed with something—greed? Power? And he ran one hand across his stubble. “Some good ol' Christian boys, huh?”

It was appealing to him. I'd known the idea would be. I held his gaze, refusing to look away first.

“But it's not my sector.” He scowled.

“When has that ever mattered to anyone in Hell? A soul's a soul.”

“Demons are very territorial. It might start a war.”

He was right about that. Fucking demons were babies about their lands. “So, let's work out a deal with the ArchDemon there. Let her bring a couple of her girls down here for the weekend. That way you're not left shorthanded, too. Kayce and I will go up to Utah—”

“No,” Lucien boomed. “Not Kayce.” I arched my eyebrows, suppressing the smile that threatened to spread across my face. “It seems you're territorial over more than just land, I see.” Kayce and Lucien just needed to fucking get together already. They both so clearly wanted it.

“Bring George. It'll look even better if he gets some guys to come out of the closet.”

“And you'll take care of the ArchDemon up there?”

“Oh, yes. Claudette and I go way back,” he said with a smirk. “By the way, you forgot to pack underwear.” He gestured to my luggage.

Folding my arms below my chest so that it pushed my cleavage even higher, I replied “As it is, it doesn't look like I'll be needing any, anyway.”

 

By that afternoon, I was “packed” and ready to go. I waited in line at a chain coffee shop at LAS airport for the group to reconvene. I ordered my usual—a caramel mocha latte—and the baristas stared at me as though I had ordered pizza at a coffee shop. “It's easy,” I explained. “Make a latte and add a shot of caramel flavoring and a shot of mocha syrup. Drizzle some warm caramel on top.” Once it had been made, I found a table close to our gate and dragged my stupid duffel bag behind me. Damn, clothes could get heavy! Under my breath, I whispered in the foreign language of Adrienne's witchcraft, which I had been practicing. A handkerchief materialized in my pocket and when I pulled it out, couldn't help frowning at the sight of the ugly ninety-nine-cent Wal-Mart square of fabric. I had definitely been going for something silky and pretty. I had to remind myself that I was still new at this; even shapeshifting can take a while for a fledgling succubus to learn. And witchcraft was not a skill I was adept at yet. But that's the beauty of being immortal. You have eons to perfect a new talent. There wasn't much I wasn't good at anymore. And that's not a statement on how awesome I am—more of how old I am.

“Excuse me,” a man's voice said from my left and when I looked up, I was staring into blue eyes and sandy brown hair that was cut military short. “Awfully large table for such a small woman.” His eyes flashed. Honestly, I didn't know what gave men such blatant sexual courage. Yes, he was attractive and sure, I was interested. But man, come on a little strong, why don't ya? “Mind if I share the table with you?” he asked, then gestured around to the rest of the seating area. “There's nothing else open.”

I took a moment to look up at him and into those blue eyes, so dark that they almost looked brown from some angles. He was attractive—wearing a uniform with little wings pinned to his lapel. It meant he was either a flight attendant or a pilot. On one hand, a male flight attendant wasn't all that appealing of a career choice. On the other hand, I wasn't sure he looked old enough to be a pilot, and heaven help us all if our lives were in this boy's hands.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I'm actually waiting for some people.”

His full lips twisted into a half-smile and took a sip of his coffee, the other hand resting on his small rolly-luggage suitcase. “Of course you are,” he said as though he were in on some sort of secret. “But I could keep you company while you wait.”

“Are you a flight attendant?” I asked rather brazenly, even for me.

The question seemed to catch him off guard and he rolled back on his heels instinctually. “No,” he said, pointing to the wings on his lapel, “a pilot. First officer.”

I shrugged and pulled my duffel bag off of the seat next to me. “Have a seat. But I really am waiting for people.”

A smile arched across his face as he sat down. “Sure you are.”

I dropped my jaw in exaggerated shock. “I am. Would I lie to
you
? A pilot?”

“I guess I wouldn't know, now, would I?”

“I suppose not.” I smiled behind my coffee cup and took a sip. His aura was okay—not perfect, but good enough. There was a hint of something magical about him—but it was barely even a trace. I wondered if even he knew he had abilities.

“Where you off to?” he asked, craning his neck to read my ticket.

“Salt Lake City,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow. “The 6:24 flight?”

I nodded and he slapped a hand to his thigh, all smiles. “No kidding. That's my flight.”

An icy chill ran through my body and I froze, spine stiff. Coincidences didn't used to startle me, but now I didn't trust them. “No kidding,” I said, monotone, mocking his response.

“Small world, huh?” He smiled and held out a hand, palm up. “Let me see your ticket.”

I pulled the strip of paper closer to my body. “Why?” My voice was no longer fun and flirty, but a dangerous purr.

“Just trust me.” He nudged his hand closer to me. When I didn't respond, he rolled his eyes. “C'mon, seriously. What could I possibly do with your ticket? If I lose it, you just go see that nice lady there and she prints you another.” He pointed to a desk with a woman in a navy suit typing at a computer.

“Okay, fine.” I slapped the ticket into the palm of his hand and he examined it, reading.

“Oh, no. This won't do. A pretty thing like you can't be seated right in front of the bathrooms.” He stood and held up a finger, signaling for a moment. After talking to the woman behind the desk for a few minutes he came bouncing back over, a proud smile on his face.

“Here you go.” He presented the new boarding pass as though it were made of gold. “First class. Have whatever you like—food, drinks. It's all on me.” Those full lips turned up into a smile and he placed his hands on hips, emphasizing two well-defined biceps. The sight sent a tremor down to my torso, my nipples tightening. I crossed my legs and held in my pheromone. I could not take time off our pilot's life. What if I did and the result was he died while flying the plane? No. Too many lives were at risk.

“Thank you.” My anxiety melted away as I clutched my new boarding pass.

“Anytime.” He took his seat across from me again and leaned on both elbows. “So, you know what I do. What about yourself?”

I shrugged. “I have a few jobs.”

“A Jane of all trades, huh?” He chuckled and continued to lean in as though he was captivated by this dull conversation. “What's bringing you to Utah?”

“A . . . gig,” I wasn't really sure how to define my role on this case. “I guess you could say I'm a freelance detective.”

Damien's deep voice resonated behind me, so low that it reverberated through my body. “You're a detective now, huh?”

I jumped and when I turned around, Damien stood close behind me—too close. I could have leaned my head back on his stomach.

“Shit! Don't creep up on a girl.” My shock quickly turned into annoyance. “This is Damien. . . . Damien, this is . . .” I paused, realizing I didn't know the stranger's name.

He stood, holding out a hand. “Aaron.”

“Uh-huh,” Damien grunted. And instead of taking his hand, he grabbed the coffee cup Aaron had been drinking from and placed that in his palm instead.

“Right.” Aaron looked down at his to-go cup, then back at me. “Well, I need to go prep the plane for our flight. Enjoy your first-class ride. I'll be in Salt Lake City all day tomorrow—if you're free. . . .”

“She won't be,” Damien growled.

I glared at him, then brought my eyes back to Aaron. “Yes. Maybe. I'm not sure how busy work will be.”

“Very,” Damien interjected again.

I darted my head back to him. “You don't
know
that.”

“Yes, I do. I'm your boss.”

Clicking my tongue, I rolled my eyes. “I will let you know if you give me your numbe—”

“I wrote it on the back of your boarding pass,” he said with a presumptuous smile. “At the very least, I'll see you on the flight, Monica.” He nodded at Damien and headed off to the gate.

Damien plopped down across from me. “Well, that was rude,” I said crossing my arms.

“Babe, you haven't even seen rude yet,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Don't. Call. Me. Babe,” I said slowly, hitting each word dramatically.

The tension in his jaw dissipated and he leaned back in the seat. He was wearing a Ramones T-shirt that crinkled as he folded his arms. “Man, you are awfully moody lately, succubus. If I didn't know better, I'd ask if you were on your period.”

I rolled my eyes, giving him one of those looks. You know, the look that implies one more word might result in my foot up his ass. “I'm just really not looking forward to this trip.”

“No?” An eyebrow arched above a steel-gray eye, and he smirked in that sexy way of his. “I have to admit that I am. Since Adrienne and Drew are sharing a room—that means you and I are left to share. I call the left side of the bed.”

“Sounds cozy. You on the left, me on the right . . . and George in the middle.”

“What?” His smile wilted like a flower that hadn't been watered.

“Oh yeah.” I thumped a palm to my forehead, exaggerating. “George is coming along. And the only way I could convince Lucien to give me time off was if I promised to fuck multiple Heaven-bound boys. George, too. So keep a lookout for a sock on the door.”