Hot Demon Nights. Elle James
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around me. “Now, I know I didn’t say anything out loud about that woman or that man. How did you know what I was thinking?” My eyes narrowed. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you that you can read my mind?”
He shrugged in that way that was becoming exceedingly annoying. “Then I won’t tell you.” Blaise held out his arm for me to take. “Shall we?”
I ignored it and him, and continued toward the precinct, trying everything in my power to block my thoughts, or clear my mind of all the nasty, sexy feelings I’d had toward Blaise since we’d met.
The demon leaned close and spoke into my head without a word passing through his lips. By the way, I find myself strangely attracted to you, as well, even though humans usually bore me.
I thought about telling him off, but one look was enough to make it clear it wouldn’t do any good. Attempting to ignore him instead, I marched off, hoping to leave the demon in my dust.
He hung on like stink on dung all the way to the station.
Twenty minutes later I was back out on the street, sporting a new badge and a weapon, loaded with silver bullets, resting against my ribs in a shoulder holster. My blood pressure had hit the sky and my hands shook with anger. No manner of arguing would change the game. I was stuck with the demon.
“Yes, my dear, you are stuck with me. Now, can we get down to the business of finding the man behind the reanimation?”
After counting to three, then ten, then twenty, I realized I’d have to solve this case to get a new partner. Maybe by then the workload of the PIT crew would have slackened and I could be switched to someone new.
“Fine,” I said. “Where do you suggest we start?”
Blaise hooked my arm and led me to the curb where he hailed a taxi. “I’ve already gathered the information about the other two zombies that were found over the past week. All three were human men recently deceased.”
“Where did they come from?” The wind chose that moment to kick up and send a cool blast down the back of my neck. Or at least that’s what I told myself as a shiver rippled across my skin.
“Three separate morgues.” A taxi slid up to the curb and Blaise opened the door for me.
I climbed in and slid across, making room for my…partner. “Go on.”
“Each body was supposedly taken to a local crematorium for disposal.”
I bit down on my bottom lip and stared out at the buildings as we slid by at the stop-and-go pace of a NYC cab. “Let me guess, they weren’t cremated?”
“You tell me. The guy who attacked you was on record as being cremated two days ago.”
“Anyone talk to the people running the crematorium?” I darted a glance at Blaise.
He nodded. “I called. The man who signed for the bodies hasn’t shown up for work in two days.”
“Did you get a name?” I frowned. “How about an address?”
“That’s my girl.” Blaise smiled, but the words sent a cold chill through me—and not the good kind. Guys flirting with me was pretty common. Annoying, but common. When they got possessive, though…bad things happened. He seemed to pick up on my change in mood, and his tone was all business when he spoke again. “That’s where we’re headed. The owner wouldn’t give me any information over the telephone.”
“Let’s get something straight,” I blurted out. “I’m not your girl. I’m a cop…or an investigator, now. You’ll respect that, or I’ll have you brought up on charges of sexual harassment, and…and Thomas will fire your ass.”
He gave me a long, considering look, and I thought as loudly as I could about the weird music the cab driver was listening to. If Blaise didn’t know what had happened to me in Chicago, I certainly wasn’t going to let him find out by eavesdropping in my head.
“Hardly,” he said at last. “I don’t work for him.”
I frowned. “I thought you were a member of the PIT crew.”
“On my own terms. I assist with investigations when I feel it’s necessary. As one of the paranorms—as the good detective likes to call us—I’m concerned when our existence is threatened.”
“And these zombies are threatening your existence?”
“Most of us just want to blend in, live in peace and be left alone. When someone steps out of line, I help clean up the mess. Either as part of the PIT crew, or on my own.”
I snorted. “Very noble.”
“Simple self-preservation.”
“I thought you were immortal.”
“Demons live forever if left alone. But there are ways to kill a demon.”
Good to know.
The taxi slid to a stop in front of a sign for the Murray Crematorium.
“Remind me to ask about those ways to kill a demon.” I slid out my side and stepped up on the curb.
Blaise chuckled as he joined me. “I’m not convinced that would be such a good idea for me.”
“Damn right.” I pushed through the open door into the softly lit entrance painted in light gray and mauve, soothing colors for those contemplating toasting a loved one.
But there was nothing soothing about this location for someone with a nose like mine. More so, I hated the smell of dead people, and the place practically reeked of death.
A man in a—you guessed it—gray suit stepped out of an office, his fingers steepled, a slippery smile on his face. Not too much, not too little, but just enough of a smile to reassure a would-be customer.
Creepy.
“May I help you?” he inquired.
“Are you the owner?” I asked.
He nodded like the butler on the Addams Family. Seriously chill-worthy.
I flipped my badge open. “We’re with the NYC police department, investigating the apparent theft of three bodies from your premises.”
The man’s plastered-on, fake smile dipped into a ghoulish frown and he glanced behind us as if afraid someone might come through the front door and overhear us. “Please, step into my office.”
I did and turned to face him immediately. Blaise followed the man, effectively trapping him between the two of us.
“As I told the detective on the telephone earlier—” the owner started.
Blaise raised a finger. “That would be me.”
“—I was out of town those days. Marcus Dunham was the employee in charge of receiving and processing the remains of the three gentlemen. He hasn’t shown up for work in the past two days and he’s not answering his telephone at home. I didn’t know he’d…misplaced…the clients until the call this morning. I’ve gone over and over the paperwork and it’s all in order. I don’t know what could have happened.”
“Have you conducted a complete inventory of…clients?” I asked. “Are there any more missing than the original three?”
“We don’t make it a habit to keep our clients any longer than necessary.” The man straightened, his back stiff, his chin tipping upward until I could see the hairs in his nostrils. Ick. Not a pretty sight. “We run a dignified establishment. This is the first and only time such a travesty has occurred, I assure you.”
I was inclined to believe him. It was clear he took pride in the business, and wouldn’t want anything to damage the company’s reputation—like word getting out that a dead body in his care went on a rampage. “We’re going to need the name and address of the employee who accepted and redirected the bodies. Also, are there any video cameras?”