Personal Demon
Page 85
“You got it.”
“Fair enough.”
We ate for a few minutes. My paper rested on my tray; his on his lap, both still folded as we perused the lead articles, as if reluctant to open it and make that commitment.
“I made a few more calls this morning,” Karl said.
“Did you phone Lucas? Did he say—?”
His glower cut me short, reminding me that we were leaving that aside until after breakfast.
“A couple of months ago, I talked to Jeremy about relocating.”
It took a moment for me to understand what he meant. The bubble that was keeping last night’s reality at bay also blocked any reminder that we were anything other than two ordinary people.
“Changing my territory,” he prompted.
“Right, yes.” As a Pack werewolf, Karl was allowed to hold territory. The others shared New York State.
By choice, he got Massachusetts—a reflection on both his independence and his reluctance to fully join into Pack life.
“The calls I made today were inquiries into a couple of condos in Philadelphia.”
He stopped there, and I had to replay his words before his meaning sunk in.
“You want to move to Philly? Relocate your territory to Pennsylvania?”
“Is that all right?”
“I suppose—I mean, yes. That’s all right. Just…unexpected.”
He reached to take a slice of bacon off my plate, using the excuse to study my expression. Moving territory wasn’t something to be done lightly. Which meant he was serious. About me. About us. And I knew that, I guess. It was just…unexpected.
“It’s really more of a home base than a home,” he said. “I just thought Philadelphia would be more convenient, under the circumstances.”
I nodded.
“I’m particularly interested in a new building about a block from your office.”
I managed a smile. “Ah, the Renaissance Towers. Very classy. Did you know they tore down one of the city’s oldest apartments to build it? Destroyed a heritage building?”
“I believe they preserved part of the facade.”
“And evicted people who’d been living there their entire lives.”
“It has a lovely view.”
“I’m sure it does.”
He sighed. “If I choose it, I’ll donate five percent of the purchase price to a homeless shelter.”
“That’s not really the point.”
“It has a lovely view.”
I shook my head and finished my orange juice.
“Anyway, it would be convenient for you, ” he said. “A place for you to eat lunch, instead of brown bagging it at your desk. And a place to sleep if you work late or the weather’s bad.”
“That’d be nice.”
He reached for my uneaten croissant. “You may find it more convenient, at some point, to stay there during the week, and we can spend weekends at your townhouse in Gideon.”
I gave him a look.
“I said, ‘at some point.’”
“I’ve never lived with anyone, Karl.”
“Neither have I.”
“I drool in my sleep.”
“I know. It’s cute.”
As I opened my mouth, the phone blipped on my nightstand. A text message, which meant I didn’t need to answer it immediately, but it made a good excuse.
“Who is it?” he asked, though his tone told me he had a pretty good idea.
“Paige.”
As I skimmed through the message, my fingers tightened around the phone. “She says there was a shooting last night, while they were finding Carlos. They think it’s a member of the gang. She’s warning me that she’s sending the photo separately, so I don’t get a shock opening it, I guess.” I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to check for the second message. “Troy’s stable. And they did find Carlos. She says they’re ‘holding him.’” I glanced at Karl. “In custody? Do they think he’s involved?”
His expression said he didn’t care enough to speculate.
“She’d like me to call her. She probably has some questions about last night.”
“Fine. Tell her you’ll call from the plane.”
“Karl…”
“Don’t you see what he’s doing?”
“Who?”
“Lucas. He’s as sneaky as his father. I told him to call me.”
“It’s my help they need with the photo.”
“He doesn’t even call you himself, but has his wife do it, sending a text message so it sounds as if they’re being considerate, not wanting to disturb you. Just watch. When you call, Paige will invite us out to breakfast, where Lucas will pounce, catch you off guard and talk you into staying to help him.”
“And why shouldn’t he? His brothers are dead, Karl. He’ll do what it takes to find whoever is responsible. I know I would.”
“Because you’re close to your brothers. If Lucas was the dead one, Hector and William sure as hell wouldn’t go looking for his killer. Unless it was to thank him.”
“If Lucas thinks the gang is involved, then he needs my help and I’m going to give it. While he’d appreciate your nose, I can convince him you’re otherwise engaged. So catch that plane to Philly, check the condos, take the keys for my place if you want to crash there…”
His look was enough.
“One day, Karl. Give me that, and if you want to help, I’d love that.”
“Twenty-four hours. There’s a flight leaving at ten tomorrow, and I’m buying tickets.”
In other words, he’d expected this, and was just registering his protest.
“Thank you, Karl.”
“Credits. I’m stockpiling ’em.”
I OPENED PAIGE’S second message and braced for the photo. A young Hispanic man with shaggy hair and a tiny scar through his eyebrow seemed to sleep peacefully on a carpet. Rodriguez.
Jaz had said Rodriguez lived with his older sister in Miami, the one who’d called with the college news.
Rodriguez was a half-demon, so his family didn’t know about his supernatural life. Presumably his death was being handled by the Cabal. How could they let his sister know of his death, but deny her details or access to his body?
Would they find a way…or just let him disappear?
“Fair enough.”
We ate for a few minutes. My paper rested on my tray; his on his lap, both still folded as we perused the lead articles, as if reluctant to open it and make that commitment.
“I made a few more calls this morning,” Karl said.
“Did you phone Lucas? Did he say—?”
His glower cut me short, reminding me that we were leaving that aside until after breakfast.
“A couple of months ago, I talked to Jeremy about relocating.”
It took a moment for me to understand what he meant. The bubble that was keeping last night’s reality at bay also blocked any reminder that we were anything other than two ordinary people.
“Changing my territory,” he prompted.
“Right, yes.” As a Pack werewolf, Karl was allowed to hold territory. The others shared New York State.
By choice, he got Massachusetts—a reflection on both his independence and his reluctance to fully join into Pack life.
“The calls I made today were inquiries into a couple of condos in Philadelphia.”
He stopped there, and I had to replay his words before his meaning sunk in.
“You want to move to Philly? Relocate your territory to Pennsylvania?”
“Is that all right?”
“I suppose—I mean, yes. That’s all right. Just…unexpected.”
He reached to take a slice of bacon off my plate, using the excuse to study my expression. Moving territory wasn’t something to be done lightly. Which meant he was serious. About me. About us. And I knew that, I guess. It was just…unexpected.
“It’s really more of a home base than a home,” he said. “I just thought Philadelphia would be more convenient, under the circumstances.”
I nodded.
“I’m particularly interested in a new building about a block from your office.”
I managed a smile. “Ah, the Renaissance Towers. Very classy. Did you know they tore down one of the city’s oldest apartments to build it? Destroyed a heritage building?”
“I believe they preserved part of the facade.”
“And evicted people who’d been living there their entire lives.”
“It has a lovely view.”
“I’m sure it does.”
He sighed. “If I choose it, I’ll donate five percent of the purchase price to a homeless shelter.”
“That’s not really the point.”
“It has a lovely view.”
I shook my head and finished my orange juice.
“Anyway, it would be convenient for you, ” he said. “A place for you to eat lunch, instead of brown bagging it at your desk. And a place to sleep if you work late or the weather’s bad.”
“That’d be nice.”
He reached for my uneaten croissant. “You may find it more convenient, at some point, to stay there during the week, and we can spend weekends at your townhouse in Gideon.”
I gave him a look.
“I said, ‘at some point.’”
“I’ve never lived with anyone, Karl.”
“Neither have I.”
“I drool in my sleep.”
“I know. It’s cute.”
As I opened my mouth, the phone blipped on my nightstand. A text message, which meant I didn’t need to answer it immediately, but it made a good excuse.
“Who is it?” he asked, though his tone told me he had a pretty good idea.
“Paige.”
As I skimmed through the message, my fingers tightened around the phone. “She says there was a shooting last night, while they were finding Carlos. They think it’s a member of the gang. She’s warning me that she’s sending the photo separately, so I don’t get a shock opening it, I guess.” I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to check for the second message. “Troy’s stable. And they did find Carlos. She says they’re ‘holding him.’” I glanced at Karl. “In custody? Do they think he’s involved?”
His expression said he didn’t care enough to speculate.
“She’d like me to call her. She probably has some questions about last night.”
“Fine. Tell her you’ll call from the plane.”
“Karl…”
“Don’t you see what he’s doing?”
“Who?”
“Lucas. He’s as sneaky as his father. I told him to call me.”
“It’s my help they need with the photo.”
“He doesn’t even call you himself, but has his wife do it, sending a text message so it sounds as if they’re being considerate, not wanting to disturb you. Just watch. When you call, Paige will invite us out to breakfast, where Lucas will pounce, catch you off guard and talk you into staying to help him.”
“And why shouldn’t he? His brothers are dead, Karl. He’ll do what it takes to find whoever is responsible. I know I would.”
“Because you’re close to your brothers. If Lucas was the dead one, Hector and William sure as hell wouldn’t go looking for his killer. Unless it was to thank him.”
“If Lucas thinks the gang is involved, then he needs my help and I’m going to give it. While he’d appreciate your nose, I can convince him you’re otherwise engaged. So catch that plane to Philly, check the condos, take the keys for my place if you want to crash there…”
His look was enough.
“One day, Karl. Give me that, and if you want to help, I’d love that.”
“Twenty-four hours. There’s a flight leaving at ten tomorrow, and I’m buying tickets.”
In other words, he’d expected this, and was just registering his protest.
“Thank you, Karl.”
“Credits. I’m stockpiling ’em.”
I OPENED PAIGE’S second message and braced for the photo. A young Hispanic man with shaggy hair and a tiny scar through his eyebrow seemed to sleep peacefully on a carpet. Rodriguez.
Jaz had said Rodriguez lived with his older sister in Miami, the one who’d called with the college news.
Rodriguez was a half-demon, so his family didn’t know about his supernatural life. Presumably his death was being handled by the Cabal. How could they let his sister know of his death, but deny her details or access to his body?
Would they find a way…or just let him disappear?
