Zoey Rogue Page 6

  “Good. You will serve your people well.”

  For a moment, Declan forgot the Professor had chosen to live with the Succubae over the Incubuses. Something about the elderly man put him at ease, but he reminded himself that the Professor was only to be trusted so far.

  “I intend to,” he said with confidence. “Did my father mention why I’d be by?”

  “Yes, a little. Some trouble involving an Incubus.”

  “Professor, an Incubus was killed last night. I wanted to ask you if you had any insight into what might be going on, if there’s any sort of emerging threat to our society.”

  “Emerging threat? No, I wouldn’t think so.” The Professor appeared thoughtful. “I always thought the threat came from your direction.”

  Declan ignored the too accurate comment, waiting. The Professor’s eyebrows quirked, and Declan sensed he, too, knew more than he was letting on. He couldn’t help but feel irritated at his father once more. There was no telling what Ethan and the Professor talked about.

  “The penalty for such a thing is death,” the Professor murmured. “I’m afraid I can provide no insight, Declan.”

  Declan sat back. “Olivia granted us permission to host an inquiry. She’ll be choosing the interviewees.”

  The Professor frowned.

  “If there’s something I should know …” Declan trailed off.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  It was a lie, but Declan said nothing.

  “I will say that there is no threat to the Incubuses. I think, if anything, it was an accident,” the Professor said.

  “Someone does not accidentally kill an Incubus. It would take a team to lure in even a weak Incubus with sex magic. It’s not something your street nymphs normally do.”

  “Street nymphs!” The Professor’s laugh was warm and rich. “Very fitting.”

  Declan allowed a small smile.

  “Speaking of Halflings.” The Professor’s eyes sparkled. “It is time for your quarterly status update on your sweet soul-mate.”

  For the second time in an hour, Declan was uncomfortable. His eyes went instinctively in the direction where she was, towards the center of the campus.

  “No changes,” the Professor reported. “Zoey is wild, undisciplined, irreverent of any kind of authority and uncouth, to boot. She’ll keep you from being sucked into a boring life of diplomacy and politics. She’s perfect for you.”

  “That could be a problem,” Declan said.

  He trusted the Professor with Zoey, the woman who was supposed to be his soul-mate, but not with the secrets of his society. He rubbed his jaw. The thought of her caused nothing but turmoil. Part of him hoped she got herself killed fighting Cambions. The other part of him checked up on her regularly. What he learned made him even less willing to bring her into the Incubatti society like he was supposed to.

  “It is not a choice, young man.”

  “I know, Professor, and I’m working on accepting that,” he replied. “But a woman with no discipline doesn’t belong at my side leading my society.”

  “Were you to meet her, you might think differently.”

  Declan kept further expression of his doubts to himself. The woman he marked as his years ago – quite by accident while at a club – had ensnared him in a way even Olivia hadn’t. He knew what his duty to her was. He wasn’t ready for her then and definitely not now, when his father’s plan was about to up heave the world as they knew it.

  The Professor was gazing at him expectantly.

  “As long as Zoey is … alive,” Declan managed.

  The Professor laughed again.

  “I am grateful for your assistance.”

  “It is an honor to serve you and a delight to keep her from killing herself on these wild missions she goes on.”

  “Have I caused undue strain on you, Professor?” Declan frowned, concerned for the aging Professor. He ignored the flicker of concern for the woman whose face he didn’t even remember. If he stopped avoiding her, he had to start the sacred, three-stage mating rite.

  “I admit, I am not as strong as I used to be, and she grows stronger. But it is no strain, Declan. I truly view it as an honor.”

  Declan clenched his jaw, wishing he hadn’t asked. The Professor was too much of a gentleman – and too proud of an Incubus – to admit directly he wasn’t able to handle his ward. The weariness of his tone and his even weaker form made Declan feel an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation: guilt.

  “If you need anything from me with regards to her, call,” he said at last.

  “I will, Declan.”

  A few weeks before his father’s plans were executed, he had to deal with this. Declan had hoped to postpone the inevitable until he was forced to deal with it, or his soul-mate died in battle. It wasn’t exactly a noble sentiment for his father’s successor. Yet he held hope that the Professor didn’t need to call.

  “Take care, Professor,” he said and rose.

  “You, too, Declan.”

  Declan rose, not at all satisfied with the interaction. While he enjoyed talking to the Professor, he didn’t enjoy the reminder of who the ancient Incubus housed.

  In the waiting car, Wes was on the phone when Declan dropped into the backseat. He motioned for the driver to take them home and waited for Wes. After a moment, Wes hung up.

  “How’s the Professor?” Wes asked.

  “Cheerful as usual. No info from his end, except he doesn’t think this was a hit.”

  “I find the timing odd. In a few weeks, everything goes to hell.”

  “I think the same,” Declan said grimly. “Was that Dad on the phone?”

  “Yeah. He’s pleased with your arrangement. No word on what he wants. He said we’d figure it out.”

  “That’s never a good sign.”

  “No,” Wes agreed. “He wants to talk to you when we get back.”

  Declan nodded. They rode in silence back to the massive apartment building overlooking Rock Creek Park, a stretch of protected forest on the northeast side of Washington DC. The driver dropped them off in the private garage under the building, and Declan fixed his shirt and tie as he walked with Wes to the entrance to one of his father’s multiple subterranean operation centers. This one acted as their temporary headquarters, until the new one was completed.

  Wes parted ways with him at a hallway dividing the locker and gym area from the corridor housing the command and control elements of the Incubatti. Declan replaced his jacket, but left it unbuttoned as he went to his father’s office. He knocked and entered. Ethan, one of the five Council-members charged with leading the Incubus society, sat with his feet propped up on the conference room table at one end of his large office. A man best described as rakish, Ethan appeared little older than his sons, kept young by a steady diet of pasta and sex.

  “Howdy, son.” His Texan twang was the opposite of Declan’s Southern accent, reminding Declan of the violent era of the Wild West his father grew up in.

  “Hey, Dad,” Declan said and sat. “Wes told you about the meeting?”

  “Yeah. You did good.” Ethan’s whiskey-colored eyes were sparkling. “Except the Heidi-thing. Get rid of her, Declan.”

  “I’ve been enjoying myself.”

  “Enjoy the girls from the clubs. Better yet, find your damn soul-mate. I won’t be around forever.”

  “You sound like an Italian mother.”

  “I cook like one. I might as well talk like one.”

  Declan smiled. “What are you planning, Dad?”

  “To see all my boys happy before I die someday.”

  “No, I mean with this meeting. Everyone on their side seems to know who did this.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, what?” Declan prodded.

  “I’m not surprised. If Olivia didn’t know what was going on in her backyard, I’d be concerned,” his father said. “What else did she say?”

  “It sounds like she wants to join forces.”

  “She’s been hinting a
t that for years.”

  “She’s not part of the plan. We’ve got to clean up the Cambion mess first,” Declan said, his thoughts going to the strategy his father had been putting together for years. It involved overthrowing the Council and destroying the militant Cambion forces that had grown in influence over the years. Five years before, one of their kind was granted a seat on the Council. They were like a cancer, one that had bribed the Incubuses with sex energy in return for legitimacy while their numbers spread.

  “I keep that one in my back pocket,” his father said. “Alliances are never cut and dry.”

  “Breaking it off with Heidi isn’t going to win you any favors.”

  “I’m more concerned about them having access to you.”

  “I’m capable of taking care of myself,” Declan said, smiling. “I can handle one little Succubus.”

  “Watch the arrogance, son. They are more dangerous then you give them credit for.”

  Not compared to me. Declan feared nothing. He listened to his father review their plans for next month. Declan tuned him out, having heard them a million times before. His thoughts were on the Professor.

  Unable to shake the guilt he felt at taxing the elderly Incubus, he also couldn’t quite swallow the idea of claiming a soul-mate he didn’t want.

  Chapter Five: Zoey Endangered

  “Zoey, c’mon and drink with me. I just opened some vodka,” Vikki said.

  Zoey looked up from where she sat on Vikki’s bed, painting her toenails. She spent the past two hours with Vikki, unwilling to interrupt the pleasant evening by sharing her awful news.

  Her phone dinged, indicating a text message. Vikki grabbed if off the dresser and read it out loud.

  “The Professor says, no meltdowns,” she said and pinned Zoey with a look. “I knew something was up. You looked like a drowned rat when you showed up, and you’ve been weird all night. Spill, Z.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

  “We’re like sisters. I know when something is wrong.”

  Zoey ignored her for another minute to finish up her toenails. Vikki was right; they shared everything for the past ten years.

  “No meltdowns. No alcohol. No boyfriend,” she muttered.

  “What does that mean?” Vikki asked. She had gotten ready while Zoey sat doing her nails, lost in her mind. The whole room smelled of Vikki’s perfume. “Why aren’t you ready? It’s like, nine!”

  Zoey sighed. “Eric proposed,” she said.

  “You shittin’ me?”

  “No.”

  “What did you say?”

  Ignoring her, Zoey climbed off the bed and stripped. She pulled out her clubbing clothes from her backpack. She wriggled into the tight dress then turned her back for Vikki to zip her up.

  “What did you tell him?” Vikki demanded, thrusting a glass of vodka into her hand.

  Zoey recalled the Professor’s warning about remaining sober. She didn’t think she’d survive the night with her thoughts and tossed back the whole glass of the chilled liquid.

  “I ran out the door,” she replied.

  “Literally or figuratively?”

  “Both, I think.”

  “Holy shit.” Vikki’s voice was quiet. “I know you like him, but I mean, you can’t marry him.”

  “Why not?” Zoey snapped.

  “Because you go around sleeping with and beheading Cambions. It’s not a good way to start a marriage.”

  “I don’t sleep with them. I kill them.”

  “You’re always tense and angry,” Vikki pointed out. “Eric isn’t enough. What happens the one night you decide to take up a Cambion on his offer, because you can’t control yourself otherwise?”

  “I don’t know, Vikki!”

  “The minute you tell your husband-to-be you’re possessed by sex energy or you can’t control the sex magic, it’s over.”

  Zoey listened. Of all the nights to try to be sober, it had to be this one, when her best friend was suspected of being a traitor and her boyfriend knew she didn’t want to marry him.

  Zoey, you need to be able to trust and talk to the person you want to be with, or it isn’t going to work. I think you need to figure out what you want.

  Eric was right. Vikki was right. The Professor was right. Why was everyone right except for her? Why couldn’t things stay the way they were?

  “C’mon. Makeup and shoes,” Vikki prodded. “This place gets crowded fast on a Saturday night. I don’t want to miss any of them.”

  Zoey forced herself to move. She couldn’t help thinking of the expression on Eric’s face in the car. He was crushed. She’d turned his world inside out in all of two minutes. Her gaze went to the bottle of vodka, but she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she glanced at Vikki, who was putting the finishing touches on her own makeup. At almost six feet tall, Vikki was gorgeous, with porcelain skin, naturally brilliant red hair and blue eyes. She got whatever man – or Cambion – she wanted.

  Zoey couldn’t imagine killing Cambions with anyone else.

  Please, not Vikki. She can’t be a traitor.

  A short time later, they arrived at their destination. They made their way through the club, and Zoey recalled why she was normally drunk by the time she got there. It was hot, crowded, loud and smelly. Vikki was cheerful as usual, and Zoey suspected her own sour mood was to blame this night, not the club or lack of alcohol. They went to a tiny table near the bar that hadn’t been claimed yet and stood. Zoey checked her phone again.

  Eric hadn’t called or texted.

  “You look like a lovesick girlfriend waiting for her ex to call,” Vikki observed. “Put that away. It’s time to work.”

  “I know.” Zoey put the phone in her wristlet and turned her attention to their surroundings. Her Hunter senses would pick up on the Cambions long before she saw them. With her emotions between sorrow and fury, she was ready. “How many did you say?”

  “Somewhere between ten and fifteen.”

  “Good odds.”

  Vikki shrugged. “You look up to taking on two or three.”

  You have no idea, Zoey thought darkly.

  “Compliments of the gentleman there,” a waitress said, bringing them their first drinks of the night.

  Vikki winked at Zoey and turned, lifting the cosmopolitan in a thank you to whoever bought it. Zoey kept her eyes on the people. Vikki went through five drinks while Zoey stayed on one. Normally, they competed to see which was able to drink the most before snagging their target. Vikki didn’t press her, and Zoey’s gaze went to her closest friend as often as to those entering the club.

  The Professor wasn’t capable of being wrong, not when he could read minds. As foolish as she knew it to be, she prayed he was this time.

  She and Vikki faced the door, instincts picking up on the group that just walked in. Every girl within five feet of them knew it, too, and the Cambions were soon covered in clinging women.

  “Only two,” Vikki said with a frown. “Ready?”

  Likewise disappointed, Zoey nodded. She’d prefer a challenge, especially when she was sober. Then again, she was there with a different challenge: spying on her best friend. Vikki moved away from the table. Zoey sensed the magic her best friend gave off and projected the sex energy in her own body. They wove through the dance floor and sidled up to the two Cambions, whose interest in the girls around them shifted once they were ensnared by the magic.

  Zoey took the bigger of the two, as usual. Vikki had a thing for slender men, while Zoey just wanted a real challenge. The Cambion lost no time in wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his body. His magic mixed with hers, enhancing her senses even more. Unlike humans, she wouldn’t succumb to him, but she was able to combine his magic with hers to use it against him.

  “Drinks?” his friend asked.

  “I’d love one,” Vikki said breathlessly. She winked at Zoey.

  They were good at playing the part, until it was time to kill someone. The four of them went to the bar. Z
oey smiled in encouragement as the Cambion pressed her between him and the bar. Accustomed to his magic doing all the work, he said nothing and did nothing but shove his tongue in her mouth.

  Zoey wished again she was drunk. She bore through it, wondering how he’d been a Cambion for so long without learning how to kiss a girl. Were they all like this, and she usually too drunk to notice? He was better with his hands, feeling her up with some sense. At least he knew where to touch. His magic fed hers despite her revulsion, and she found herself enjoying it too much. She and Eric had sex, but their connection was physical. She often wondered what it was like to have sex with a partner who had magic.

  “Wanna go somewhere?” she asked, breaking away from him.

  “Yeah.” His voice was low. He grabbed her hand and all but yanked her away.

  She twisted and rolled her eyes at Vikki then made the sign for call me. Vikki grinned.

  In the unromantic way of a half-Incubus, he took her into the alley beside the club. Zoey knew it well; it was the normal place where the meatheads took her. The alley ran from the side street on which the club was located to the main, four lane road through town. She glanced towards the end of the alley. She’d cased the place enough that she knew the escape routes by heart. If she got in trouble, she could run and catch a cab.

  Not that one little Cambion was an issue.

  He whirled her and pressed her into the wall with the same roughness that almost made her wish she was able to fall under his thrall. As it was, making out with him was providing her some release, until he started to cross the line where she drew as the limit to how far she’d go. She wasn’t about to cheat on Eric with a psycho like this. The Cambion hiked up her dress to her hips. Kissing him, Zoey reached down to grip a knife then took his cheeks in her hands and pushed him back.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Are you?” he returned with the arrogant smile that assured her he had no clue.

  She slid the paper thin, razor sharp knife across his throat then shoved him. He stumbled back, clutching at his neck. Blood spurted from the wound, and the light faded from his eyes as he dropped. Zoey watched. When certain he was dead, she straightened and replaced her knife.