Business With Pleasure (Empathy in the Preternatural PNW Book 2) Read online

  “Oh, hey, I just left you a message,” I said in lieu of hello.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t get to the phone.”

  “No problem. What are you doing?”

  “Working.”

  “Ah, well.” I bit my lip, a bit startled by his tone. “Should I call back later?”

  “No, I have a few minutes to talk.”

  “Then I’ll make it fast. Have you found anything else about Norma, where she might be?”

  “Only that there was another murder,” he explained. “Guy in West Seattle stepped out to get the paper early this morning and his wife found him a half hour later around back, just dead. Their car was missing, as well.”

  “Jeez.”

  “Yeah.” His tone was final, irritated.

  When I didn’t respond, he spoke again, and I got the impression he was making an effort to lighten the mood.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had this much trouble with a creature. Norma seems to be just human and just sane enough to blend in, but crazy enough that she follows no discernible pattern. It happens with older succubi, but I can’t get any sort of handle on what she looks like so I don’t know if it’s her age or if she’s just off her rocker. I’ve been all over the city trying to find some way to identify her, let alone find her.”

  “Sounds like a lot of legwork.”

  “Yeah, but it keeps me pretty.” This time, I could hear a smile in his voice. Liking this tone better than the hard edge with which he’d started the conversation, I chuckled. As I shifted in my chair to prop my leg up on the filing cabinet, my brain clicked onto a solution.

  Owen spoke, stopping me from swearing at myself for not thinking of it sooner. “As soon as I deal with her, though, I’ll let you know. We can have a celebratory dinner.”

  “I think I can help you!”

  “Like I helped you last night?” His voice oozed sex and I bit my lip through a laugh.

  “Yes but, before that, I think I can legitimately help find Norma.”

  “Oh?” I liked that he didn’t sound cynical or condescending. Chloe would have. Chloe would have given me a look like you’d give a five-year-old who claims he’s going to teach himself to fly.

  “I got a thing from some fairies last year, this little toy magnifying lens. Chloe said it looks like it might be able to find something? Would that help?”

  “If you’ve got what I think you do, yes, very much. I can come pick you up now. Are you—”

  “I can’t now. I have a client to see in a bit, but after that, I’m wide open.”

  “Hmm.” I could tell he didn’t like the delay, but he didn’t argue or ask me to cancel the appointment.

  “Look, pick me up at my house in two and a half hours and we’ll go find her. I want to change before we go anywhere. I want a full shower.”

  “Oh?” he asked, his tone softening. “You didn’t make it home this morning?”

  “I can’t imagine why,” I said. Owen gave a short laugh and I heard a door shut behind him.

  “Okay, four o’clock. If you’re ready any sooner, let me know. I’ll be there.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  ##

  As we closed the office for the evening, Chloe asked if Owen had made any headway with our murderous succubus.

  “No, nothing yet. He says he’s running around the city trying to find a witness but he hasn’t had any luck. But I have that payment from Laurell and Hardy. I think I can use it to find her, right? Or I can give it to him to use?”

  “I wouldn’t give it to him. It would be just like a fairy to make sure it won’t work correctly if it changes hands.”

  “Well, then I can use it. I think?” I said, frowning at the floor as I realized I had no idea what to do with a magical toy. Chloe hooked her arm into mine as I took a step toward the elevator, and steered me to the staircase.

  “I haven’t used one but Owen might know how. He’s been at this a while, it sounds like. I’m sure he’s handled payment from fairies before.”

  “He kills them, he doesn’t work with them.”

  “You don’t think monsters want other monsters dead?”

  “Ah.” I breathed out a confused sound, shook my head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Well, ask him at least. Otherwise, I’d treat it like a Magic 8 Ball: just start asking it questions, see what happens.”

  We were out on the street, separating to head to our cars, when Chloe turned back to me.

  “Have you heard anything else from Mel?”

  “No, thank god. The crazy bastard’s probably—hopefully—found his future wife and is crying on her shoulder. I don’t want any more weepy messages.”

  “I hope so. Poor guy sounded so sad.”

  “Yeah. It was pretty gross.”

  Chloe snorted at my insensitivity and headed off toward her car with a wave. I glanced up at the front of the building toward where I thought Mel’s office window was and wondered if he’d made it into work that morning. Thinking better of it, I dropped my gaze back to the ground and moved quickly toward my car. If he was up there and he caught sight of me, he might jump out the fourth-story window just to come beg me to have sex with him again.

  I’m not the heroine in a preternatural romance novel; I don’t need this shit.

  ##

  I made it home in record time and pushed open the door, yelling to Stan that I was home. Sonny screeched at me from his cage, incredibly loud, startling me so I bumped into the door and dropped my bag.

  “Sonny!” I snapped, more out of shock than anger. Hanging from the side bars of the cage, he grabbed one of his bell ropes and jangled it before screeching at me again. I kicked the bag into the living room, shut the door, and then peered into the cage. Sonny had plenty of dry food, but there was no fruit in his dish and it looked like the remnants of the last feeding were a day old, at least.

  “Aww, baby, did Stan forget to give you snacks?” Sonny rang the bells again, moving to the door of the cage and holding on for dear life. I opened the door and let him crawl up my arm. This did not appease him. He screeched again, making me yelp and clap my hand over my ear. A conure screech is no joke, let me tell you.

  “Stan? Are you here?” Sonny and I moved first into the kitchen so I could give the bird a chunk of apple and shut him up. He took the sliver I gave him but then immediately dropped it, screeching again.

  “Hey, mister!” I said, wrapping my hand around his delicate little body and pulling him close so I could look into his face. His leg wiggled at first, before he cocked his head to look at me with one eye. “Stop yelling! What’s wrong?”

  He yelled again.

  “Sonny!” I put a finger on the top of his beak, hoping it would be clearer, but he just struggled slightly in my hands. Wondering why Stan hadn’t come out to ask about the ruckus, I took Sonny to the guest room and found it empty.

  Stan’s laptop was on the desk, off and closed, next to his mobile phone; his suitcase and toiletry bag were still packed, lined up in an orderly fashion on the dresser. The bed was unmade, which was a red alert in and of itself. I couldn’t feel his emotions in or around the house, but my brain refused to accept that as an answer.

  “Stan?” I asked again, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Dread was pooling in my belly, but I tried to ignore it. Surely nothing was wrong. It was Stan, after all. The universe wouldn’t mess with the sweetest man ever.

  Er, not after it had thrown me his way. Making him put up with my bullshit was already more bad karma than he deserved.

  Tucking Sonny onto my shoulder, I moved through the house at lightning speed, checking every room. Stan wasn’t in either bathroom, any of the three bedrooms, or the laundry room. I even ran out the back door and checked the shed out of desperation. Sonny stayed perched on my shoulder silently as we searched.

  When I got inside again I realized the back door had been unlocked when I’d gone through just minutes before.

  “Dammit,” I snapped
. “Dammit, dammit!” Sonny went into his cage quietly, either sensing my distress or smug that he’d gotten his point across to the dumb human. I did give him a handful of fresh fruit to snack on and turned on the TV for him. As I bolted to the back of the house, I dialed Chloe, setting the phone on my bathroom counter as I stripped.

  “Hel—“

  “Chloe, Stan’s gone,” I yelled at the speaker. “I think Norma got him. He didn’t answer his phone all day, probably because it’s here.” Owen’s words from our phone call came back to me. She’d killed someone in West Seattle, and stolen their car. I was betting it had happened closer than I’d assumed when he’d mentioned it. “Shit! Shit, shit! She killed another neighbor, took Stan in a stolen car. I’d bet my life on it.”

  “Oh my god,” she said, and I heard a voice in the background. Chloe put her hand over the phone, but came back shortly after. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. You looked around for a note? Maybe he just went for a walk.”

  “He would have let me know, and there’s no note. The back door was unlocked, too, which he would not have left. Sonny hasn’t had any treats all day and I know that doesn’t sound like—“

  “I understand. I’m on my way.”

  Chloe hung up as I tossed my phone onto my bed and hit my closet. I had time to shower but it seemed frivolous under the circumstances.

  ##

  I was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a light tee when Chloe pushed open my door. She had changed too, into an outfit similar to mine but topped with a light jacket. There was a black line of nylon around her left thigh, and when she came closer I realized she’d strapped a knife there.

  She didn’t give me a chance to ask about any of it.

  “Where’s the toy?”

  “I have it, but I told Owen I wouldn’t use it until he got here.”

  “Right,” Chloe said, turning and scanning the room. As she started toward the guest room, she spoke again. “How long?”

  “I called him right after I got out of the shower and he said fifteen minutes. I’m assuming—“

  My front door opened and Owen stepped in, dressed similarly to Chloe and me. His jacket could have been the twin to hers: a slick, thin, black windbreaker unzipped to his sternum. He gave me a comforting smile. When the sunny glare from the open door disappeared, I noticed that he had gone a few steps further than Chloe: he had a knife strapped to each thigh, and the cuff of his left pant leg fell funny on one side.

  “Ready?” he asked. Unlike Chloe, whose emotions were a mix of anger and a thin swirl of worry, Owen seemed at peace with the situation. I blinked at him, unsure what to say, as Chloe stepped out. She jerked her chin at him in greeting and then gestured to me.

  “She’s got the Find but neither one of us have ever used one.”

  “It’s not complicated. Can I see it?” They both turned to me and I looked between them. I suddenly felt like the clumsy sidekick in a spy movie. Was I the Tom Arnold of my own life?

  Trying to decide if I wanted to glower or simply accept my comedy-relief fate, I dug into my pocket and pulled the little toy out. I handed it to Owen; he held it up, looking it over and then giving it back. He spoke as he moved to the shelf in the corner of my living room.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen one like this before. These assholes must shop at the same party store, or something.” Plucking a DVD from the bunch, he popped it open and slid the cover art out before closing it, the DVD still inside. He was gentle at handling the case and made sure to leave the art on the shelf where it wouldn’t get stepped on or ruined. Handing me the DVD, he jerked a thumb toward the door. Chloe nodded, and they both moved to leave. I looked down at the plastic I held in both hands, feeling useless. Owen left without another word, but Chloe stood framed by the dying light in my doorway gave me a small smile.

  “Come on.”

  Unsure what other option I had, I moved toward her, doing my best not to glower. I knew they were both trying to help and that I should’ve been glad for competent friends instead of jealous of them. But I just kept thinking that I didn’t have a knife or a snazzy windbreaker; I had a toy magnifying glass and a Ghost Rider DVD that lacked a cover. My mood only got worse when I stepped outside and found that Owen had, in fact, managed to procure a windowless van.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You stay in the van.”

  “What?” I demanded. Chloe leaned back in the side door and pointed threateningly my way, not elaborating on her order. Owen had already climbed out and come around to the passenger side, but he said nothing. It was probably wise on his part, since Chloe looked pretty damn serious.

  The Find, it turned out, was basically a magical GPS. Per Owen’s instructions, I’d aimed the little lens at the side of the DVD case and then politely asked if it would take me to Norma. My initial instinct had been to ask it to find Stan, and Owen had made the point that Stan would likely be with Norma. I’d argued but he’d made the very valid, if frustrating, point that if he wasn’t and we found him taking a long stroll, we would’ve wasted our one shot at the succubus.

  The DVD was unharmed, Owen assured me, even though the magic in the lens had temporarily tattooed the side of the case with a moving map, a little dot jumping and wiggling to indicate our position. When I'd asked why fairies had enchanted something to turn a DVD into a map, Owen had explained that anything flat and monochrome would do; the case had just been the first thing he'd seen.

  The map was spastic, changing course whenever it felt like it, but Owen had been able to decipher its message and get us to a warehouse in Tacoma. The last villainous creature I’d confronted had dragged me to his house, a nice Queen Anne two-story. As evil lairs go, this warehouse seemed to be a step down. Or possibly a step up?

  It’d been a while since I read How to Be a Villain, and I couldn’t quite remember what one exactly wanted in an evil lair.

  When Chloe had stared me down sufficiently, I dropped my head and sighed. As soon as she was out of the van, though, I turned to glare at them both through the passenger’s side window. Owen stepped up next to the van to smile at me. Getting the message, I rolled down the window and tried not to sound like a toddler as I whined his way.

  “Why do I have to stay here? If Stan’s in there, I could—“

  He pulled a gun out from under his coat and held it pointing skyward while his gaze stayed steady on mine. Chloe started doing some stretches, pulling her knees to her chest one by one, twisting to the side, looking athletic and competent all the while. I frowned at the gun and then looked back to his face. When he had my attention he leaned in, gun still held away, and kissed me quickly on the lips. Still close to my mouth, he smiled and spouted my own line back at me:

  “I like the amount of holes you have, thank you very much.”

  I grunted in irritation.

  “Why does Chloe get to go?” I asked, wondering why she was suddenly ready to Rambo it up.

  “Yeah,” Owen said, lowering the gun to the ground and turning so he could see us both. The expression he aimed at Chloe was a challenge, his emotions speaking of mischief, like he expected her to squirm. “Why does Chloe get to go?”

  In answer, she drew her own handgun out of her jacket and held it with both hands, aimed down at the ground. Her expression was stern as she met my eyes. I sighed and nodded.

  “Fine. Go rescue Stan. Make sure he’s alive to write another day.”

  Owen gave me a wink, and then they both turned and took off rapidly toward the warehouse. I was now alone in the van, without even a fancy computer or some earpiece chatter to keep me busy. I couldn’t quip at them or ask what was going on. I had to be content with sitting silently, watching the warehouse and hoping that Stan, Chloe, and Owen all came out unharmed.

  I rolled up the window, sighed, crossed my arms, and tried not to pout. Chloe seemingly had no business running into a situation like this, but she’d proven herself to be a great shot back when we’d squared off against a demon and a vampire. She’d saved my bu
tt—and Mel’s, but bringing that up just gets you a view of said butt as he flexes it and invites you to touch—in record time, and come out completely unscathed. I didn’t know much about her history but I knew she was pretty good with a gun.

  I just had to trust that she and Owen could get Stan out and not get shot up in the process.

  Uncrossing my arms, I lifted my hips, twisting to pull my phone out of my pocket. I checked some of my social network feeds, discovered they were pretty stagnant at that time of the evening, and went on to a puzzle game. I got bored quickly, though, and found myself settling into another pout, this one more epic than the last.

  It didn’t occur to me that I was looking at Mel’s SUV until I’d been staring at it for a minute or two. I hadn’t really noticed it as we pulled up, because there were several giant vans and trucks parked around the area. But as far as I could tell, that was definitely Mel’s car. No one else had quite such an ostentatious ride, especially not here.

  Still staring at the giant, gleaming black SUV parked down the lane, I unlocked my phone, glancing at it long enough to find Mel’s number in the received list and call it. He answered on the fourth ring, still weeping from the day before. I could practically hear the snot on his face.

  “Gwen, she left me. I came here to tell her I love her and she just left. I’m alone again. It hurts to be without her. I can’t fight it anymore. I just want to be near her, to look at her.”

  “Mel, where are you?”

  He answered me by snorting wetly and letting out a sob. I made a face, but pressed on with my questioning.

  “Are you in Tacoma?”

  “Why doesn’t she love me? She’s all I think about. I can’t even get another woman to look at me, and she just… Gwen, why?”

  “Snap out of it! Are you—"

  He gasped, cutting me off. “I just heard someone come in. Maybe…two people? Why does she keep bringing other men around? My love!” He wailed like Romeo drunkenly calling to his Juliet, and hung up. I stared down at the phone, not sure if I was more disgusted or annoyed. Either way, I damn well wasn’t sitting in the van anymore.