Personal Demon
Page 81

I slid the bolt, and pulled open the door to see a narrow hall ending in a staircase.
 
WE EXTINGUISHED THE light balls. Without them, the stairwell was pitch-black. We had to move up the stairs by feel as Paige cast sensing spells. When we reached the top, and her spells found no one lying in wait, she relit her light.
We were on a landing flanked by doors. The one to the right was unlocked. As I reached for the handle, Griffin shouldered me aside. I reminded myself that this was his job. If I was injured, he’d take the blame.
Griffin took out his gun, eased the door open a crack and stopped to listen. Paige motioned that she’d cast a sensing spell if she could get closer, but he pretended not to understand, threw the door open and wheeled in, gun raised.
After a slow look around, he waved telling us to stay put. When he’d turned away, I peered inside, then pulled back quickly. Beside me, Paige tensed, a spell flying to her lips. I shook my head. What I’d seen was no threat, merely something she didn’t need to witness. But, of course, she would—there was no way around it—so I opened the door again. I held up a hand, warning her.
She peered around me. Her breath caught.
The door opened directly into a bedroom. There, on the bed, lay a young woman, naked and spread-eagled, tied to the bedposts, a belt around her neck. Even from here, we could tell that rushing in with first aid would be pointless.
 
 
LUCAS: 15
 
 
“I SUPPOSE COVERING HER UP isn’t a good idea,” Paige said.
I nodded. Cabal security would be handling this, not the Miami police, but they’d still want the scene left intact.
Paige was unable to tear her gaze from the dead woman. I knew she was wondering who she’d been, what her life had been like, now reduced to this—a naked corpse exposed to strangers who were too busy with other concerns to mourn her passing or even care about the circumstances of her death, except as it related to those larger concerns.
I struggled to see her as Paige did. As a person. But tonight all I could do was assess the facts. Though she looked college age, the amount of smeared makeup made it hard to tell. Dyed blond hair. Faded track marks on her arms. A tattoo on her ankle that might aid in identification.
I turned my attention to the articles of male clothing strewn about the bed. Socks, shoes, underwear, a shirt…No sign of pants. Whoever had been with her had likely fled half dressed. Clearly not the young man from downstairs. But had he killed her?
I bent to examine the shirt. I suspected it belonged to Carlos. The young woman hadn’t been hastily tied up by an experimenting amateur, but bound with leather straps. My brother’s sexual proclivities were no secret in the supernatural community.
“She’s been tortured.” Paige had begun examining the young woman. “There are knife wounds, but they look small and shallow, maybe from that.” She pointed to a penknife lying beside a condom wrapper, then leaned closer to the girl’s abdomen. “And I think these are…bite marks.”
While this could indeed be evidence of torture, it was not necessarily the case if Carlos had been involved.
But I saw no need to enlighten her.
A shadow fell over Paige. I reacted with a knockback spell, hitting the blur of motion before I could even tell what it was.
Carlos flew back into the open closet as Griffin ran from the adjoining room. Griffin tackled him and the two men went down.
“Get the hell off me, you oaf.” A glare my way. “It’s your brother, idiot.”
It was the first time I’d heard Carlos call me that. He’d say mockingly a “little bro” or “baby bro,” but in serious reference I was always his half-brother—if he had to admit to any relationship at all.
He struggled against Griffin’s restraining hands, but he was no match for the bigger man. With one hand, Griffin tugged plastic wrist straps from his pocket and glanced at me. I nodded.
“What the hell are you doing?” Carlos said. “You’re supposed to be rescuing me!”
“We need to escort you to headquarters,” I said. “If you’ll—”
“Headquarters? The fuck you are, you traitorous son-of-a-bitch. I wouldn’t trust you to escort me across the road.”
From brother to traitor in twenty seconds. If one angle didn’t work…
“I need to take you back. Hector—Hector’s dead.”
“Hec—?” He lifted his gaze to mine. “Bullshit.”
When I didn’t answer, he searched my face.
“Ah, shit,” he said. “What was it? A car accident? Heart attack? I know his heart had been—” His expression hardened. “If it was a heart attack, you better believe I’m holding you responsible, Lucas. You traipse into the office this afternoon, with no warning—”
“He was murdered.”
His surprise seemed genuine.
“So was William.”
His look turned to shock. “No way. No fucking way.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah? I’ll bet you are. I’ll bet you’re just rubbing your hands right now. Finally got rid of them, and now the way is clear. You can take over the company and run it into the ground, screw Dad over and call it a public service. Well, I’ve got news for you, baby bro. I’m still around. And while I am, you’ve got competition.”
That was it. His shock and grief had lasted exactly thirty seconds before his true concerns took over.
Griffin made a move, as if to lead him away, but I shook my head. There was still one more test.
“They attacked our father,” I said.
 
“Is he dead?”
There was no hope in his voice, but no concern either. I paused, giving him time to contemplate, to react, but his expression didn’t change.
“He’s fine.”
“Oh.”
“Griffin will escort you to headquarters.”
Carlos lifted his bound hands. “Not like this.”
“If you’ll go willingly—”
“This isn’t a request, Lucas.”
My phone vibrated. It was the SWAT team. They’d already secured the area and were requesting permission to enter the building. I granted it and hung up.
“Lucas?” Paige nodded to the young woman on the bed and I realized, with no small amount of regret, that I’d forgotten all about her.