You sat back and chewed on your lower lip.
“Are you upset?”
“No, just… thinking.” Your gaze drifted for a moment and then you started up again. “Can demons use seduction to get money?”
I wondered if you were already planning a heist. The temptation for our kind to amass wealth and power was great, and though it wasn’t exactly a crime against humanity, it sometimes led to more malicious pursuits.
“Seduction is a talent of the bloodborn. For demons, it’s usually not so sophisticated. They’re not bound by a mortal conscience, and they tend to have very little regard for human life, so many times they’ll simply stalk a person of means and then rob them. Or perform less savory acts.”
“And that’s why you hunt them?”
“The Imperium is devoted to maintaining some semblance of law and order among demons traversing the human realm, but some demons are too cunning or slippery for Imperium forces.”
“And Azrael—your boss—he’s the head of it?”
“Yes. Has Mater told you nothing about Azrael?”
“I know that he starves her,” you said severely, “and keeps her in solitary confinement. I know that she’s lonely and depressed because of him.”
Again, I told myself to use caution. “She’s not innocent, Vincent.”
“I never said she was,” you snapped, heated. It was a line I’d been walking ever since you were a child, how to balance your devotion to her with the very real threat she posed. Not to mention you were at the center of one of our most rancorous disputes.
“When you’ve been around for as long as Lena and Azrael have, there tends to be a lot of opportunities for bad blood,” I said, adopting a more diplomatic approach.
“The way Mater speaks of Azrael kind of reminds me of the way you speak of her.”
Your cunning eyes studied me. I sipped at my water and avoided saying more. By then your meal was mostly eaten. “If you’re finished, perhaps we’d better be going.”
“Subtle, Henri. Real subtle.”
In the car you asked me about our first stop, and I was relieved to be speaking about the present and not the past.
“We’ll be visiting one of my informants, the owner of an exotic dance club.” Your eyes lit up at that, and I followed it with, “where you will be waiting in the car.”
“Henri, come on. I’ve never been to a strip club before.”
“The establishment will be closed, so you can console yourself in knowing you won’t be missing anything.”
I ignored your irritated look as I turned my attention back to our mission. Ruby Slippers was an establishment where disagreeable characters congregated, chief among them was the man who owned it. His associates had dubbed him Mescaline Mike. He’d been a target of mine in the past, and rather than face certain punishment, Azrael had instructed me to turn him into an informant. It being just after noon, I wasn’t too concerned that you’d be molested. Even still, I didn’t want Mike or his people to lay eyes on you.
“Can’t I please come with you?” you asked with the full force of your pout.
“No.” You opened your mouth to protest and I swiftly interrupted. “This is not a negotiation. If these characters see that I have a young, attractive man with me, they’ll assume you’re my companion, which places you in grave danger should one of my adversaries wish to compromise me.”
Your eyes narrowed as though coming up with a retort. “Fine. But only because you said I was attractive.”
I suppressed a grin. “I may be a while. If you get bored or hot, take a drive around the block or find someplace to cool off with a drink.” I handed you my keys. “Promise me.”
“Promise,” you said like I was wounding your pride.
I exited the vehicle and made my way to the entrance of the building. The front door was propped open, so I let myself inside the darkened club and took a seat at the bar. Even though the club wouldn’t open to the public for several more hours, there was a bartender on duty to serve me.
“Just a water, please. Sealed.”
I surveyed the room to see if anything had changed since my last visit nearly two years ago. Not much. Mike didn’t seem to invest his profits in the upkeep of his establishment; he didn’t pay his employees very well either, according to the disgruntled workers I’d interviewed in the past. When I first met him, Mike had been supplying bodies to demons for the purposes of carnal pleasure, episodes which often turned murderous. He maintained it wasn’t his business anymore, but as far as smuggling went, Mike had contacts all over the city and knew the comings and goings of scores of unsavory beings.
After a few more minutes, a broad man with a ponytail and a vibrant floral shirt greeted me. If you could call it that.
