Industrial Magic
Page 6

Is that what happens?
Sure. Didnt you see that one?
His lips curved in a grin, defrosting his icy gaze. Yeah, maybe I did. He leaned back against the wall. So, hows Robert Vasic?
I blinked, startled. Uh, finegood.
Still teaching at Stanford?
Uh, yes. Part-time.
A half-demon professor of demonology. I always liked that. He grinned. Though I did like it better when he was a half-demon priest. Not nearly enough of those around. Next time you see Robert, tell him Troy Morgan said hi.
IIll do that.
Last time I saw Robert, Adam was still a kid. Playing baseball in the backyard. When I heard who Lucas is dating, I thought, thats the Winterbourne girl. Adams friend. Then I thought, whoa, how old is she, like, seventeen, eighteen?
Twenty-three.
Man, Im getting old. Troy shook his head. Then he met my gaze. Mr. Cortez isnt leaving until you talk to him, Paige.
What does he want?
Troy arched his brows. You think hed tell me? If Benicio Cortez wants to relay a message in person, then its personal. Otherwise, hed save himself the trip and send some sorcerer flunky. Either way, half-demon bodyguards are not in the know. The only thing I do know is that he really wants to talk to you, enough that if you insist on inviting him upstairs, hell come. The question is: Are you okay with that? Its safe. Hell, Ill come up and stand guard if you want. But if youd feel more comfortable in a public place, I can talk to him
No, thats fine, I said. Ill see him if he comes up to the apartment.
Troy nodded. He will.
An Offer I Can Refuse
THE MOMENT I STEPPED INTO MY APARTMENT, I HAD TO grip my fists tight to keep from slamming the door and throwing shut the deadbolt. I was about to meet Benicio Cortez. And to my shame, I was afraid.
Benicio Cortez headed the Cortez Cabal. The comparison between Cabals and the Mafia was as old as organized crime itself. But it was a bad analogy. Comparing the mob to a Cabal was like comparing a gang of teenage neo-Nazis to the Gestapo. Yet I feared meeting Benicio, not because he was the CEO of the worlds most powerful Cabal, but because he was Lucass father. Everything that Lucas was, and everything he feared becoming, was embodied in this man.
When Id first learned who Lucas was, Id assumed that, having dedicated his life to fighting the Cabals, Lucas wouldnt have any contact with his father. I soon realized it wasnt that simple. Benicio phoned. He sent birthday gifts. He invited Lucas to all family functions. He acted as if there was no estrangement. And even his sondidnt seem to understand why. When the phone rang and Benicios number appeared on the caller ID, Lucas would stand there and stare at it, and in his eyes I saw a war I couldnt imagine. Sometimes he answered. Sometimes he didnt. Either way, he seemed to regret the choice.
So now I was about to meet the man. What did I truly fear? That I wouldnt measure up. That Benicio would take one look at me and decide I wast good enough for his son. And the worst of it? Right now, I wasnt sure hed be wrong.
A single rap at the door.
I took a deep breath, walked to the door, and opened it. I saw the man standing there, and my heart jammed into my throat. For one second, I was certain Id been tricked, that this was not Benicio but one of his sonsthe son whod ordered my death four months ago. Id been drugged and, coming to, the first thing Id seen were Lucass eyesa nightmare version of them, their deep brown somehow colder than the icy blue of Troy Morgans stare. I hadnt known which of Lucass half-brothers it had been. I still didnt know, having never told Lucas what happened. But now, as I stared into those eyes, the steel in my spine turned to mercury and I had to grip the door handle to steady myself.
Ms. Winterbourne.
As he spoke, I heard my mistake. The voice Id heard that day was riveted in my skull, words bitten off sharp, staccato, and bitter. This one was velvet-soft, the voice of a man who never has to shout to get anyones attention. As I invited him inside, a harder look confirmed my error. The son Id met had been in his early forties, and this man was another twenty years older. It was an understandable mistake, though. Smooth some of the deeply etched lines on his face and Benicio would be a carbon copy of his son. Both men were wide-shouldered, stocky, and no more than five seven, in contrast to Lucass tall, rail-thin physique.
I knew your mother, Benicio said as he crossed the room. No She was a good woman or Im sorry for your loss tacked on. A statement as emotionless as his stare. His gaze swept the room, taking in the secondhand furniture and bare walls. Part of me wanted to explain, and another part of me was horrified by the impulse. I didnt owe this man an explanation.
Benicio stepped in front of the couchpart of a perfectly serviceable if threadbare set. He looked down at it as if debating whether it might soil his suit. At that, a small inkling of the old Paige bubbled to the surface.
Dont bother sitting, I said. This isnt a tea-and-crumpets kind of visit. Oh, and Im fine, thank you for asking.
Benicio turned his empty stare on me and waited. For at least twenty seconds, we just looked at one another. I tried to hold out, but I broke first.