Dead to Rights (Supernatural Security Force Book 4) Page 3
She spread her arms to gesture to the little preschool class in the making.
I blinked, trying to assimilate her absurd, and impossible, story into what I knew of reality.
“That’s insane,” I said finally.
My mother frowned.
“It’s a miracle,” Milo corrected.
“Angel balls on a stick.”
I turned as a June bug flew in through the open front door and landed on the TV.
“Gran, you took the words right out of my mouth,” I said.
“There’s three of these fuckers now,” Gran said, her beady eyes fixed on me. “What have you done, girl? You can’t just go around stealing baby demons. You gotta leave some for everybody else.”
“I didn’t steal them,” I protested.
“She didn’t,” Milo said. “I was with her the entire time.”
“What about Jax?” Gran said. “Can anyone vouch for his whereabouts? Because he has a habit of delivering demon babies in his spare time, and this has his handiwork written all over it.”
“It wasn’t Jax,” I said.
“How do you know?” Gran said. “You seen him lately?”
There it was.
The question she really wanted to ask.
I sighed. “No, I haven’t seen—”
“Hello? Anybody home?” The familiar voice sent a jolt through me, and I turned as Jax McGuire stepped through the front door.
His alpha energy rolled in with him, blanketing the space. Even the air shifted to accommodate him.
“Hot damn, now it’s a party,” Gran said.
I looked at my mom with wide eyes. “You called him?”
“He’s their father,” she whispered defensively. At my expression, she winced then called, “In here.”
A moment later, Jax walked into the living room.
“Cora, I got your message. Everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured him, but I wondered if he even heard her. His eyes locked onto me, and I became hyper-aware of the hushed silence in the room. And of the way Jax’s pupils seemed to darken the longer he looked at me.
I blinked, only to find he’d somehow closed the distance between us. When had that happened?
“Hello, Gem.”
“Hi.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
“I called.”
“Yeah, I…had work.”
Milo’s eye roll was almost audible. It was a lame excuse, and I knew it. But I’d walked into that alley to confront Selaphiel, thinking one way about Jax. And I’d walked out of it with an entirely different opinion.
He’d bitten Adrik. No, that wasn’t accurate enough. He’d torn out his throat.
Tried to kill him.
I could not—would not—ever be able to forget that moment.
Even now, when my body felt the hum of attraction, my heart remained tightly closed. A fisted hand clenched around any remnant of affection.
Jax studied me a moment longer and then finally turned away, saying, “What happened? The message said Fergie—”
He fell silent, and I knew he’d finally noticed the new additions.
“I see,” he said after a beat. “Looks like we’re going to need a bigger baby sling.”
“Seriously? That’s your response? There are three of her now. We’re the parents of flesh-eating clones. This is insane.”
“She’s certainly duplicating,” he said and then in a lowered voice, “the parenting book I’m reading says it’s important not to impose labels on them. I don’t want her to hear ‘clone’ and feel boxed in.”
“But flesh-eating is okay?” Milo snorted and then caught sight of my expression.
He backed away slowly.
I looked at Jax again. “Your parenting book,” I repeated.
He pulled something out of his back pocket and held it up. A haggard paperback, rolled and dog-eared, flashed before me. I didn’t recognize the title, but it was clearly a book written for—and by—humans.
“Is there a ‘Parenting Demon Babies’ edition I missed?” I asked.
“Kids are kids, Gem.” His tone was half-amused, half-lecturing, and I was not a fan of either.
“Uh-huh.”
For some reason, all I could think about was my assignment from Starla. To investigate Jax. She wouldn’t order me to investigate someone for no reason. What did she know about him that I didn’t? What was he hiding beneath that smooth exterior of his?
“Everything all right?”
Jax’s question, along with the bemused smile he flashed, brought me back to the present, blinking and grasping at where we’d left the conversation.
Oh. Right. Triplets.
“Yeah, fine. Listen, I think it’s important we keep this to ourselves,” I said. “If anyone finds out we have not just one but three demon children, it won’t go over well.”
“You mean you might get fired again,” Gran said.
“Not to mention the whole ‘wanted criminal’ thing,” Milo added.
“Also, we don’t want to put the Fergies in danger,” I pointed out.
“Right, of course,” Milo agreed with a shrug.
“Meh. Fergie can handle herself,” Gran said, clearly unconcerned. “Can’t you girl?”
She buzzed near the little Fergie my mother held, and the little monster snapped her teeth as Gran flew by.
“Shitcakes,” Gran shrieked and beelined for the TV again.
The burner cell Rigo had given us buzzed, and Milo read the message then handed it over. I frowned at the text from Rigo asking for a check-in.
“Dammit.”
I glanced at Milo. “What happened to twenty-four hours?”
“He’s obsessed with you.”
“Ugh.”
“You have to leave?” my mother asked.
“We’ve been assigned a case,” I said. “Rigo needs us to check in.”
“You’re working with that asshole?” Jax demanded.
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “I can handle it.”
Jax didn’t look convinced.
“You ready?” I asked Milo.
He nodded. “Duty calls, Cora.”
Milo walked over and dropped a kiss on my mother’s cheek. Their fast friendship still kind of confused me, but it wasn’t like I’d had time to notice developments like that what with so many Nephilim trying to destroy the world.
“Mom, are you still okay to watch this many of them?” I asked.
“Of course.” My mother waved a dismissive hand. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
I started for the door.
“Raph will be here in an hour anyway,” she added. “He can help.”
I stopped and turned back, but Jax stood between my mother and me.
“It’s fine,” he assured me.
“How is it fine?” I asked.
“It’s fine,” he repeated and then all but shoved me out the door, following close behind.
Outside in the yard, I whirled on my co-parent. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and his shirt-sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked handsome as hell—or he would have if I could get past the image of his panther going for Adrik’s throat.
“I don’t like Raphziel spending time with the Fergies,” I said quietly.
“I can arrange for someone from my pack to stay with her if it makes you more comfortable,” he said.
“It doesn’t.” I didn’t want a stranger watching her either. I bit my lip.
“You want to stop by later, and we can figure it out together?”
I hesitated.
His expression darkened in underst
anding.
He’d tried reaching out more than once in the days since our showdown with Selaphiel. I’d ignored every single attempt.
“Call me if you need me,” he said flatly and walked away.
I watched as he strode to the curb and got into the backseat of a dark SUV with tinted windows.
As the SUV drove off, Milo walked up to me and whistled.
“Could have cut that tension with a knife.”
“Or he could have just ripped through it with his teeth,” I said, still staring at the place where the SUV had turned and disappeared.
Milo shook his head. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“Would you?” I shot back.
“Baby daddy drama’s always complicated,” Gran said, and I jumped at the closeness of her voice in my ear. Then scowled as her words sank in.
“We don’t have time for this,” I said, looking at Milo. “We’re late.”
He gestured to my car parked at the curb. “Lead the way, partner.
I headed for the car.
Milo paused long enough to peer into the back seat before climbing in beside me. When he glanced back a second time, I frowned.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“I’m just thinking it might be time to trade up.”
“Trade up? Why would I do that? I love this car.”
“I’m sure you do, and you’re not exactly soccer mom material, but, honey, there’s no way three car seats are ever going to fit back there.”
“Ugh.” I groaned as I started the engine. “Let’s cross that minivan when we come to it.”
Chapter Three
The streets were crowded in the Quarter, partly with human tourists and partly with supernaturals wearing various spells and glamours to mask their true forms. And their true intentions. The closer we got to Division Thirteen, the more supes we brushed shoulders with as we elbowed our way past. Gran buzzed overhead, well above the reach of fast hands and annoyed bystanders.
“This shit is bananas,” she said. “The last time I saw this many supes gathered in one place, I was lathering male strippers with Vaseline for my friend Betty—”
“Gran,” I said, and Milo snickered.
He looked up at Gran. “Promise to tell me the rest of that story later.”
“You bet your ass, kid. I almost did hard time for that shit. Get it? Hard?”
She hooted at her own joke.
He looked at me, grinning as we shoved our way between a couple of bat shifters. “Have I ever mentioned how much I want to be Gran someday?”
“Once or twice.”
“I’m going to do a fly over,” Gran said. “I’ll be back.”
She buzzed off before I could argue. At least, up high, she’d be safe.
“We should keep moving,” Milo said. “Try to get closer to the front.”
Somewhere behind us, voices rang out. Angry. Aggressive.
I caught the words “demon blood” followed by a string of curses and yells. Craning my neck, I spotted a guy on the ground, a group of supes closing in around him. One whiff of his supe signature scent, and I pegged him for a vampire. Clearly, so had the others. No one looked very friendly about it, and my muscles tightened at the idea of what was about to happen.
The rumors I’d heard had been too nice. These protests were dangerous and definitely spoke to a darker thread running through the community.
I nudged Milo, who spotted the showdown with sharp eyes and quickly lifted his hand and pointed at the guy on the ground. With a blast of glamour-magic, the guy vanished; glamoured to look like the ground where he sat.
The crowd roared with indignation and confusion, but the guy crawled away before they could trip over him and discover the ruse.
“Good shot,” I told Milo, glancing around warily to make sure no one had seen our little intervention.
Milo nodded, and we quickened our pace toward Division Thirteen. We hadn’t even arrived at the official protest site, and already, I was relieved we’d worn street clothes. If this gathering turned nasty, I didn’t want to be identified as SSF. I’d heard too many stories of crowds turning on police—not to mention the reports of police brutality against peaceful supes. Neither of those was a report I wanted to write on my first day.
Or ever.
“Come on, we need a place to glamour ourselves.”
I found a narrow walkway between this building and the next. Just enough to wedge ourselves in and avoid the shoves of the throng moving this way.
I grabbed Milo.
“What are you doing? I can’t fit in here.”
Ignoring his protests, I yanked hard on his sleeve.
Milo grunted and bumped my arm with his as we both crammed into the narrow alley.
“Shit, G, I think I’m stuck.”
“I’ll unstick you,” I promised. “After we glamour ourselves.”
“G, you have to remember you’re not on the run anymore, okay. And no one has even recognized you from the wanted posters.”
“It’s not that,” I said as a heavy whiff of shifter pheromones hit my nostrils. A second later, the voice I’d heard earlier boomed just outside our little hiding space. More curses. More threats. This time, with a clear message:
“The SSF can’t continue to lie to us and get away with it. The council is corrupt. We want the truth!”
“Yeah,” some of the crowd echoed.
“Out with the Neph,” the voice chanted, and the rest of the crowd joined in. “Out with the Neph. Out with the Neph.”
Milo and I exchanged a look.
“Do you want to be an SSF agent in this shit right now?” I hissed.
“Point taken,” Milo said.
I grabbed his hand, and we both channeled our fae power until Milo’s appearance shifted from a fae in loafers to a vampire in a leather jacket.
I stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This isn’t any safer.”
“I’m a regular guy now,” he protested.
“You think demon bloods are regular?”
He scowled. “Look, I made him up during role play.”
I groaned. “I do not want to know.”
“The point is, I’ve used this form often,” he said with a sparkle in his eye that I did not want details about. “It’s the most solid glamour I can conjure, okay? Stop worrying.”
“It’s not me you have to worry about,” I said, “but okay. Come on.”
“Wait. What about you?”
I pressed my lips together and conjured a mental image of the creature I’d chosen. Then, I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, I looked down at myself, satisfied at the new body I’d just shapeshifted into. Broad shoulders, wide chest, and strong legs—I’d experienced the sensation of a penis before, but damn, apparently Tony was packing. Or maybe that was just my own libido affecting my imagination.
“You trying to flirt with me, G?” Milo grinned.
“Attract, yes. You, no,” I said.
“Good, because your voice doesn’t match your visual.”
“Shit,” I muttered then attempted something deeper, infusing it with a little more glamour to give it a boost. Voices had always been my downfall. “How about now?” I said.
“Passable. But seriously, why Tony?”
“I work best with people I know.”
“Are you saying you have intimate knowledge of Tony’s physique?”
“No, I meant the face, you perv.”
“Well, I’m just saying, what’s it like to have a penis? Do you have questions? Do you want to touch it? Do you want to know how to pee?”
“I’m not talking about this.”
“Okay, well, it’s over the fence or through the gate, okay?”
“Ugh. Let’s go,” I said, poking him.
Milo arched a brow. “Stuck, remember?”
I rolled my eyes and shoved him.
“Ow,” he grunted. Then his eyes lit. “Ooh. Wait. While we’re
stuck here, care to tell your bestie the current situation with your Neph-in-shining-angel-wings?”
“I still have not spoken to Adrik,” I said, clenching my teeth as I shoved harder.
Milo grunted again, and then we both nearly tumbled right onto our borrowed faces. I grabbed Milo, and we both straightened, stepping back in time to avoid a picket line snaking through the crowd with signs that read: “No Nephs, No Demons, No Problems.”
I shot Milo a pointed look, but he waved me off.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now we watch,” I said.
Through the crowd, I spotted the shifter from earlier on the steps of the building across the street. A building I’d entered only once but would never forget, with its deceptively quaint historical markers and “Closed to the Public” signs.
Division Thirteen.
The man turned to the crowd, face already flushed. He held a sign but didn’t wave it around. A woman next to him held out a hand, and he gave her the sign, trading it for a bullhorn.
“If you’re here to demand justice, you’re in the right place.”
His opening words elicited a cheer.
I glanced at the assembled faces, each one glamoured to look human where the features differed. Even the signs held glamours to hide their true messages.
“Who the hell glamoured these picket signs to look like a Shriner’s gathering?” Milo demanded with a snort. “Genius, really.”
I looked back at the spokesman.
The bullhorn clicked on again.
“Those Nephilim in charge think we’re idiots who can’t see the truth.”
Curses all blended together.
“They’re so desperate to remain in power, they summoned demons just so they could slay them and look like the hero.”
More cries, louder now.
Milo and I exchanged a look.
“They have their facts straight, at least,” he said.
“But from who?” I wondered.
“They ship demons in and let the monsters attack and kill us just so they can feel like their presence in our world is necessary. Worse, so we’ll continue to raise them up as our leaders.”
Boos sounded. Some people waved their signs higher in response.
“But the truth is, we don’t need their black-winged asses anymore.”
Cheers. Lots of them.
Someone shoved me in excitement, but I held my ground.