Erik Park stared at the wounded demon on the other side of the desk.
“They’re dead?” he said incredulously. “All of them? Even Ramos?”
The man nodded, his face pale. He’d assumed his human appearance and was clutching at the bloodied laceration in his abdomen.
Park swiveled his chair around and frowned at the dazzling lights of the city spread out beyond the glass facade of his office. That one of his strongest generals had been defeated during what should have been a straightforward recon mission was not news he welcomed.
Taking care of Hugo Voggell and his entourage should have been a walk in the park for someone of Ramos’s caliber. When Park had felt the dark call for reinforcements a while back, he’d been startled but had sent more demons to Brooklyn nonetheless, the creatures’ bodies melting into the night to emerge out of the shadows in the slaughterhouse in a matter of seconds. He hadn’t expected the fight that had taken place there to wipe out Ramos’s entire squad.
He turned and narrowed his eyes at the only survivor to return to their headquarters. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Surprise filled him as the demon started to talk. When the man described the three intruders Ramos and his team had uncovered in the slaughterhouse and the three more who had come to their assistance shortly after, a thread of trepidation wormed its way into his bones. But when the demon related what he had witnessed at the end of the battle, before his timely escape, Park’s misgivings turned into a mixture of alarm and excitement.
“Are you certain?” he said stiffly. “You saw them transform?”
The demon nodded. “Yes.”
Park gazed at him blindly for a moment. “Thank you.” He waved a hand at the demon. “Why don’t you go take care of those wounds?”
The man turned and left the office, his expression relieved.
Park signaled to the two bodyguards standing by the door. “I need a moment.”
They exited the room.
He rose to his feet and brought up a number on the smartband on his wrist. The call connected a moment later.
“Sir? It’s Park.” He turned and stared out over the city. “I think I’ve found the Guardian.”
“Seriously, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Callie glared at Artemus and hiccupped between sobs. “Oh yeah?! Well, I’d like to see how you’d react if you suddenly grew horns and a tail!”
She looked over her shoulder.
“And it isn’t even a normal tail!” she finished in a high-pitched howl.
Artemus stared from the stubby, white horns protruding through the front of Callie’s hair to the baby snake peeking out the back of her jeans. The creature had coiled in on itself and gone to sleep, evidently bored by the incessant wailing of its mistress.
Smokey sniffed at the reptile a couple of times where he perched on the leather couch next to Callie and gave it a tentative lick. The hellhound had assumed his disguise once more, all signs of the deadly monster from the slaughterhouse masked behind the limpid, chocolate gaze and fluffy fur of the Rex rabbit.
The infant snake opened one lazy eye and flicked its tongue at the bunny with a friendly hiss.
Drake walked into the lounge and came to an abrupt halt.
“I cannot tell you how disturbing that is,” he said dully as he stared at the two creatures nuzzling each other. “I’ve seen some weird shit in my life, but this takes the cake.”
Callie’s eyes rounded, her face crumpling and a fresh wave of tears flooding her eyes.
“See?” she bawled. “Even he thinks it’s weird! I’m a freak! An ugly, horned, tailed freak!”
Artemus grimaced as her sobs rose in volume once more. He narrowed his eyes at Drake. “Way to go, asshole. I’d just managed to calm her down.”
“Really?” Drake said sarcastically. “‘Cause that’s not what it sounded like from the bedroom, Goldilocks.”
Artemus decided to ignore the ‘Goldilocks’ comment. “Has he talked yet?”
“No.” Drake grimaced. “And if she keeps working him over the way she is, he won’t be in a fit state to say anything either.”
Artemus sighed. “Stay here.”
He headed for the corridor Drake had appeared from.
“And do what exactly?” Drake said sullenly.
Artemus shrugged and indicated Callie. “I don’t know, use your charms to cheer her up.”
He navigated the dingy passage toward the bedroom of Hugo Voggell’s safehouse.
It was Drake who’d told them about the antique dealer’s hideout in Harlem a couple of hours back. When they’d failed to find any traces of the man or his car after the demons’ attack in Brooklyn, they’d gone searching for him at his condo in Manhattan.
“Give me a second,” Drake had said as they stood in Voggell’s extravagantly furnished and very empty apartment. He’d slipped his smartglasses on, touched the controls on the right rim, and grinned at whatever came up on his viewscreen. “I know exactly where he is.”
“How long ago did you bug his place?” Artemus had asked when they’d parked in the alley backing the dark building where the antique dealer had taken refuge.
They’d left Callie’s Porsche and Drake’s bike at Voggell’s condo and taken Serena and Nate’s SUV for the ride to Harlem.
“Long enough,” Drake had replied.
Artemus had eyed him suspiciously as they stepped out into the wintry night. “You bug my place too?”
Drake had smiled wordlessly in response.
Artemus recalled the thief’s annoying smirk with a frown as he walked into the bedroom. He stopped and stared from Voggell’s bloodied face to the woman towering over the man strapped to a chair.
“Whoa,” Artemus muttered. “Easy there. We want the guy to be able to speak.”
Serena cast a cold look his way.
Nate was perched on the edge of the bed next to her, busy checking their weapons.
Artemus was unsurprised to see that the man’s broken arm had already healed.
Voggell hawked out a glob of blood-streaked spit and looked wildly at Artemus. “Will you tell this crazy bitch to get off my case? I don’t know anything about Park and his organization! I’m telling you the truth!”
“Really?” Artemus arched an eyebrow. “‘Cause they sure seem to know a lot about you. That’s how they found out about the auction in Chicago.”
Surprise flashed on Voggell’s weasel-like face. Anger darkened it in the next instant. “You know what? Fuck you!” He scowled up at Serena. “Fuck all of you!”
The mercenary backhanded him across his cheek so hard the chair nearly toppled over. Artemus winced.
Voggell choked on his breath as he slowly brought his head back around. He spat out a broken tooth. It joined the other three on the floor.
Artemus crossed the bedroom and dropped down on his haunches in front of the bound man. “The sooner you talk, the sooner this will be over. Pretty soon, she’s gonna break something that can’t be fixed.” He glanced at Serena. “Like your skull.”
Voggell’s chest heaved as he glared at them, fear a dark light coiling in the depths of his eyes. “You’ve seen what those people can do! They’re—they’re monsters! They’ll kill me if I talk!”
“They’ll kill you anyway,” Nate said flatly from the bed. “In our experience, they don’t like leaving witnesses.”
The color drained from Voggell’s face. He gnawed the inside of his cheek for a silent moment.
“Look, if I—” he gulped and swallowed convulsively, his eyes shifting from Serena to Artemus, “if I tell you what I know, can you guarantee my safety?”
Artemus shook his head. “We can’t.”
Voggell’s face fell.
“But I know people who could,” Artemus added.
Voggell sagged in the chair, relief flooding his eyes.
Drake walked into the bedroom. He was grimacing and wriggling his jaw from side to side with one hand.
Artemus rose to his feet and eyed the red marks on the thief’s left cheek. “What happened?”
“Let me guess.” Serena narrowed her eyes. “She slapped you.”
“All I did was tell her that the snake looked cute all coiled up on itself,” Drake muttered. “Like a little pig’s tail.”