The Devil's in the Details (12 page)

A roomful of demons, fire, and dessert?

“Not bad.” My phone picked that moment to buzz. I glanced at the text from Karla St. Charles telling me she had a lead on the Chase building. Hope blossomed and I grinned. “Fabulous, here we come.”

“This is so
not
fabulous,” I told the überpregnant wedding planner a few hours later as we walked into the only available rental space in the Chase Bank building.

It was just this side of seven p.m. and the building had long since cleared out of all the nine-to-fivers. Thankfully. I didn’t need an audience to witness the meltdown I was about to have.

I glanced around at the blah, empty space. There were so many things wrong with this that I didn’t even know where to begin.

Karla, pulling off the professional mommy-to-be look in a clingy blue jersey knit dress, sipped one of those all-natural/organic/gluten-free/supposed-to-be-good-for-the-baby protein shakes that smelled like vitamins and made me want to toss my cookies. (No, really. I’d eaten a handful of Oreos on the way over.)

“If you want the Chase Bank building,” she said in between sips, “this is what you get.”
Sip
. “The building is owned by a corporation that doesn’t lease out for special occasions.”
Sip. Sip.
“They only let out for corporate space. But lucky for you, it just so happens a friend of mine works for an insurance company up on four.”
Sip. Sip. Sip.
“Since they’re tenants, they have access to the one and only party space in the entire building.” She swept a hand around the room. “Here you go.”

I glanced around the gold-carpeted space with its minimal windows and fake potted plants. My nose wrinkled with the smell of carpet cleaner and stale food. “This isn’t really what I’d pictured.”

She tossed her now-empty Styrofoam into a nearby trash can and eyed me. “Why don’t you give this up and go for the Wells Fargo Bank Plaza? I can get you the lobby area. Lots of windows. Great atmosphere. It’s not the tallest building in town, but it comes a close second.”

If only. But no matter how big, my mom wouldn’t be happy with second place. She wanted this event to be over-the-top and I had to make that happen.

But tallest building or not, it couldn’t happen here. “This is terrible.”

“You’re telling me,” Karla echoed, but then she touched a hand to her stomach and I knew she was talking about something other than the space. “I probably shouldn’t have doubled up on the B-twelve in that shake. I think the babies are starting their own Zumba group.” Her eyes twinkled. “Want to feel?”

Time out. Can someone please tell me why all pregnant women think that the entire world is equally amazed by what is happening inside their bodies? Seriously. I’m not a baby person. I never have been. My cousin Delilah tried to get me to hold her kid at the last family get-together—a birthday party for my second cousin Millicent—and it didn’t end well. There were lots of tears (baby) and spitting up (me on account of said baby was actually a toddler who punched me in the stomach and, well, I’d just eaten four brownies). Needless to say, I’d never been into the whole mommy thing.

I
so
didn’t want to get up close and personal with any kicking babies.

“Here.” She grabbed my hand and pressed it against her tummy before I could make up an excuse. “Feel.”

“I’ve really got to run—” The words stalled as I felt the tiniest thump against my palm, and then another and another.

All right, so it
was
sort of cool.

A smile played at my lips. “Do they move like that all the time?”

She nodded. “Especially when I listen to the Black Eyed Peas. The twins absolutely
love
Fergie.”

We spent the next few minutes oohing and ahhing over the joys of impending motherhood and the hotness of Fergie’s significant other, aka Karla’s fantasy man, Josh Duhamel. Then her cell beeped and she had to leave to make it to her natural water birth class.

“Just leave the door open when you’ve finished looking around,” she said. “The security guard will lock up.”

I nodded and waved good-bye. Then I spent the next few minutes walking the perimeter of the room and beating my brain for some way to make the space work.

Better lighting. Great tablescapes. A bulldozer.

The hope that had sprung when I’d gotten Karla’s text took a nosedive, and I blinked against the burning behind my eyes. I was so screwed. If I wanted invites by tomorrow afternoon, I had to secure a space today.
Now.

I wallowed in self-pity for the next few moments until my cell beeped me back to reality and the all-important fact that I was an optimist. I had been ever since I’d turned my back on my birthright and latched onto the dream of finding my own happily-ever-after.

If I could believe there was a Mr. Perfect out there somewhere for me, I could damn well believe that I could nail down a venue in less than three hours and pull off a wedding that would meet with my mother’s approval.

I just needed to get really creative.

That, or run like hell. I’d surely wind up living in an igloo in Antarctica.

“What are you doing?” Blythe demanded when I picked up the phone a few minutes later; she’d called after I didn’t immediately answer her text.

“
Not
living in an igloo,” I said with all the courage I could muster. “What’s up?”

“Agarth. Literally. I called him for information and he asked me out. I said I’d think about it and the next thing I know, he’s standing on my doorstep. Either he’s got his sword in his pants or he’s
really
glad to see me. I’m betting number two, which is why I’ve locked myself in the bathroom. I don’t care how important this is, I’m not boffing him for information.”

“So he’s a little excited. He’s wanted a date with you
forever
. Just get back out there, go to the movies, and ignore whatever he’s got working below the waist. Pretend like you don’t notice it.”

“We’re not going straight to the movies. It’s dinner
and
a movie.”

“That’s good. The table will be in the way so you don’t have to actually make eye contact with his lap.”

“You’re not making me feel any better.” She grew silent for a long moment, as if weighing her options. “But there is one thing that might help.” Her voice took on a desperate note. “Come with?”

“A date usually means two people.”

“So meet us there. We’ll pretend like it’s a chance thing.”

“I don’t want to piss him off. He’s our only lead to Azazel.”

“He’s in love with me. If I act like I’m superworried about you because you’re so stressed about this wedding and that it would make me extremely happy to at least invite you to eat dinner with us, he’ll go along with it. Please,” she added when I hesitated. “I would do it for you. I
am
doing it for you. It’s not my head on the chopping block, remember?”

“I’ve got two hours and fifty-two minutes left to secure a venue for my mom or it won’t matter if Cutter chops off my head. I’ll be dead anyway.”

“I once partied in the backseat of my limo with the manager of the Bell Tower on Thirty-Fourth. I could give him a call.”

“It’s not nearly big enough.”

“It accommodates one thousand people.”

“I’m talking height. The Bell Tower is only two stories.”

“True, but it’s got a water wall. The
only
water wall in the city of Houston.”

If she’d been talking flowing blood, we’d be in business. But while it wasn’t my ideal, I was getting desperate. Two hours, forty-nine minutes, and counting. “Is it available?”

“I’ll give him a call and tell you at dinner.”

“You could always text.”

“But then you wouldn’t have any incentive to help save my ass.”

“I’m sure Agarth means no harm to your ass. He worships it.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want any
worshipping
tonight.”

I weighed my options all of five seconds. “All right. Where?”

“Cabo Bar and Grill in the museum district. Be there in twenty.” She hung up before I could protest.

Not that I would have. Blythe was putting herself out there for me. She’d gone on exactly one previous date with Agarth that, in her opinion, had ended in disaster. Unfortunately, Agarth wasn’t too savvy when it came to dating, and picking his teeth during dinner hadn’t seemed like a deal breaker to him. He still lusted after her, and she’d done her best to avoid him like the plague.

Until tonight.

She was doing this for me and the least I could do was help her out.

That, and we’re talking a wall built entirely of flowing water.

I sent Cheryl a quick reminder about the dress appointment first thing tomorrow, texted the venue address to the Paper Emporium, and then left the depressing party space to head out to my car. The garage had been full, so I’d parked a block over.

It was almost eight o’clock and the sun had already dropped behind the massive buildings in downtown. Dusk crawled through the streets, eating up the light, leaving a trail of thick shadows in its wake.

Goose bumps whispered up my spine as I rounded the corner and made my way to my Nissan, parked near an almost expired meter.

Just as I reached my Cube, a strange sensation crawled through me. I felt the presence directly behind me—a fierce coldness followed by a whisper of air against the back of my neck.

My entire body froze. My keys plummeted from my suddenly limp fingers.

Someone was there.

The same someone who had left the cryptic message on my bathroom mirror?

Maybe. Probably.

I whirled, desperate to face my fear and catch a glimpse. “You’re so busted if I tell my—” I started, but the street was empty.

A jingle of metal cut through the pounding of my heart, and I glanced down in time to see my keys rise up off the ground. They rose higher, higher, until they dangled right in front of my face.

I forced myself to swallow past the lump in my throat. Evil thrived on fear. It drew power from it. The worst thing I could do would be to let on that I was freaked.

Which I wasn’t, because I knew that my aunties would never really hurt me.

Or would they?

We’re talking total control Down Under. They’d been at each other’s throats
forever
, always arguing and fighting and backstabbing. This past year alone, Bella had set my ma’s hair on fire at the Fourth of July celebration and chopped off her hand over the last piece of apple pie. My mom had regrown both, but still. Bottom
line? Bella hated my mother. Aunt Levita too. She’d been the one to spike Lillith’s mimosa with rat poison at my cousin Alice’s baby shower a few months back. After my ma had upchucked for about thirty minutes, she’d retaliated by dousing Levita with gas and setting her on fire.

I know, right? Stabbing a set of keys into the forehead of little ole me seemed petty in comparison.

I shook away the possibility and focused on the fact that this was my family we were talking about. Sure, they were crazy. Power hungry. Deadly. But I was immortal. While they could screw up the good thing I had going with this body, it wasn’t as if they could get rid of me forever. They knew that and so did I.

They were just trying to shake me up, to upset my mother’s plan by forcing me to back out of the wedding. It was petty and stupid, and it certainly wouldn’t stop my mother from tying the knot if she truly wanted to. But it would piss her off. And my aunties loved pissing off one another.

“Seriously?” I fought to keep my voice from shaking. “Is that the best you can do? Talk about Demon 101.”

The keys stalled then and, just like that, they crashed to the ground at my feet.

Jess Damon: one. Crazy demon stalker: zero.

I drew a much-needed breath, snatched up the keys, and climbed into my car. I was just about to crank the engine when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end again. The coldness whispered around me. As if a heavy breath were rushing at the windshield, it clouded and then an invisible fingertip traced the words:

I warned you.

The coldness pressed in, and icy fingers tightened around my throat.

I was choking.