Demon Inhibitions: Caitlin Diggs Series #3 Page 14

  We finally parted long enough to eye each other. And when we did, he groaned with surprised pleasure, apparently never believing his Agent Diggs would ever succumb to his wishes. That wish had materialized. I had taken his erect penis into my hand and began massaging it. And while I performed, he managed to remove my bra, employing his tongue to dance little circles around my right nipple.

  But the best was still yet to come. I landed on top with him positioned underneath me, seated on his squeaking leather couch. I believed it to groan in unison with us. I rode him, gently--at first. Up and down, slowly caressing him; introducing him to my external womanhood. Then our groans became more pronounced as he slid in. Consequently, so did the couch’s.

  As we synchronized a rhythm, I thought I heard a faint voice calling me. Small and much like the cry of my cat when she tried to interrupt my love fest with succubus boy. I believed it to be caution. A part of me--a small part of me--questioned my actions; I had never behaved this way in the past, back in my universe. I had never let lust become the sole factor in whether I would sleep with a man. I let the voice ebb and fade as I fed my physical hunger.

  I rode him, faster and with more urgency. Perhaps attempting to quiet the voice with the moaning, squeaking, groaning, and panting. Wet, my vagina dripping with desire, I let his hardness fill me to my core. Satiating me sexually, but also comforting me emotionally, I realized this sex rivaled my last romp with a human male. The physical longing I shared with Grant, and he in turn with me, had to be the key. I’d felt so strongly for this man back in my reality, even when his essence had merely been a guise. Now I could taste it, feel the pronounced power of the real thing. I nearly bit his lip with a vicious, ravenous kiss. He moaned in compliance furthering my need to take everything he had to give. For a moment, I equated this urgency with that of a succubus. Until I realized, I was also giving everything I had to him as well. I had to be because my head began to swoon, I grew light headed. I soon realized the faintness I was experiencing had little to do with lust or sexual depravity. A vision began to form. I could see and also hear something. A woman singing… a black cat racing across a room…

  And that’s when I lost paradise. I fell from his graces--not to mention his lap--with a shudder, directly onto his floor.

  I fought for vision, seeing nothing but paneled wall, plaques and framed photos spinning about me. I strained to see if there were any women in these photos, perhaps a wife or a fiancée. That realization, the possibility that AD Grant was just a womanizing cheater, began to eat away at my euphoria. And as it did, the vision faded. I began to realize how bizarre I must look to Grant, nude and thrashing about on his expensive carpeting without him.

  “Come join me,” I said weakly hoping he would dismiss the bizarre behavior with the promise of more sex. Most men would have. But Grant surprised me. He came to me, only to cradle me in his arms. Then, he lifted me gently onto the couch. “Looks like we’ve had enough for one day…”

  I emitted a silly and intoxicated laugh. “You mean we can have more?”

  He smiled. Surely, that meant yes. Yet, his eyes spoke of caution.

  “Will you be all right for the stake-out tonight?”

  It sobered me enough to point awkwardly at my clothing strewn boldly about the room.

  He retrieved it and I dressed. When I finished, he calmed me with a sensual deep kiss. As my body began to respond to it, he fell away, settling into a seat beside me. He cradled me in his arms, the way couples do. I took it as a good sign. I had crossed a line here. Either we would ignore this ever happened and behave awkwardly toward each other--well maybe not as awkward as the day he would discover I wasn’t his Agent Diggs--or we would begin a relationship. Despite my circumstance, despite Mollini, I wanted the latter. I had lied to myself back in my universe, believing I could continue a platonic relationship with this Atlas of a man. I could have worshipped him from afar. But it would be far better to taste the nectar of the gods, I surmised, caught in the reflection of another daydream. I laughed. He took my hand.

  “You did a good job of playing hard to get,” he said.

  I decided now would be a good time to leave. I didn’t want to begin my relationship with Grant based upon a lie. But there didn’t seem any other option. Still, I could preempt the guilt for a while--at least I believed I could--if I simply left the room. So I did. “I’ll keep you apprised of any developments.”

  “I’ll expect nothing less,” he said facetiously. “If you do make an arrest, I’ll expect a full report by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Would you like me to deliver that report… here?” I eyed the groaning leather couch one last time.

  He laughed and I exited.

  It wasn’t until I started driving that I became really disturbed. Not over my weakness to resist Grant. Not even about the fact I wasn’t his Agent Diggs. I realized my vision had fizzled out on me. A stark contrast to the vision I experienced back in Salem. That had been alive and in high def. Still, Briana had explained that vision really didn’t count--that it was more a mind share with Judge Manners. Nevertheless, it continued to nag me, so much that I plotted Brahms’s GPS to take me to her home.

  I found Briana at her kitchen table, studying Tarot cards.

  “I need to talk to you. It’s about my visions.”

  “You experienced one?”

  “That’s it. I don’t know. I started to… but then…” I told her about the singing, the cat.

  “Caitlin. Remember when we talked about the essences. You’ll need to purify yourself in this world.”

  “Oh. My stars! Was she implying knowledge about my tryst?”

  Not taking an eye off her cards, she said, “You’ll need to change your diet, take more herbs and get regular exercise. This world operates differently from yours. It’s a lot less polluted. So if your gift is to work properly, you’ll need to be purified.”

  I wondered if she were mocking me. Maybe she did know about my romp with Grant, she was a witch after all. All her talk of purification made me feel as if I should be a saint.

  “We’ll need to get you in touch with Airmid.”

  “Is that some brand of sneaker? Because if it is, I already have a comfortable pair.”

  “It’s the Celtic goddess of healing. She’s often associated with the use of herbs.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that--that purification thing--even with herbs. That’s why I don’t know if I’ll ever pass as your Agent Diggs.”

  “Well, you promised to give it your best, at least until we catch Mollini. You just need to get over your apprehension, that’s all. The black cat in the vision most likely symbolized a fear of using your psychic abilities or trusting your intuition.”

  Perfect. Our lead on Mollini was growing colder by the moment and here I was apparently stunted by irrational fear. Then, I thought about something Brahms had said. He had employed a PI. Perhaps, Brahms would give me this PI’s name and I could begin to fill in some blanks. I looked up from my thought and there he stood, munching on sliced greens from a bowl.

  “Want some, Agent?” he asked. “They are really good.”

  My brows furrowed.

  “You remember my little speech about avocados, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Of course I do.” How would I ever forget?

  “Briana was good enough to fetch me some. Now they taste much better in pies… but sometimes, you have to improvise.”

  I reached for a slice, hoping to create a bond with this man I could only place as Mollini’s father and a professor of science.

  “Yes, you’re right, Mr. Brahms. Sometimes we have to improvise. So would you be so good to do me a favor?”

  He complied quickly enough, reaching into his wallet to produce a business card.

  I read it. PI Douglas Sweeney. It just couldn’t be. Or could it? My nerdy Dungeons & Dragon loving, meteorologist geek of a friend was a detective in this universe? As if I didn’t have enough jolts for one day. Well, I would have to
restrain my curiosity. First, we would be obliged to stake-out the computer firm Grant believed to be targeted for a hate group’s next wave of terror.

  I decided to ask another favor, as sand quickly began to fill my eyelids.

  Briana showed me to a couch--one that didn’t groan--so I could catch a few hours shuteye before the stake-out.

  Despite all my concerns, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about Bastet changing into a werecat while I slept.

  Fourteen

  I didn’t think three of us would be on stake-out.

  Yet I couldn’t refute Briana’s logic. If I hadn’t witnessed Bastet transforming from the sweetest ball of fur to the most menacing black beast on four paws, I might have argued. Yes indeed, Bastet certainly walked the talk. Well maybe in the cat world, the phrasing is different, but you get my drift.

  I even joked to Briana that our little shape-changing feline has the jaws and claws to make even the most cocky demon tremble. After we laughed, I asked. “Is that fair?”

  “Certainly, we need to use all the resources we can get working the PCD, we’re outnumbered after all.”

  We didn’t appear to be outnumbered. Here we were on a stake-out, guarding a piece of property I would associate with corporate America. If there were demons, they lived in the daylight and wore Gucci. Tonight, they were home doing whatever movers and shakers do. Probably not sleeping, but not quite unleashing an army upon us either.

  In reality--in this reality-we were outnumbered, nevertheless. I recalled Briana’s statistics. Six out of every ten beings were demon or a hybrid mix.

  “But not every sixth demon is a criminal?”

  “You’re catching on. No, they are certainly not. Still, the demons who do commit crimes possess supernatural strength and paranormal means to elude us.” She paused to look over her shoulder. Bastet had curled herself up into a ball on the backseat. “Hence, the cat. She evens the score.”

  “And how do you classify demons in this world? I’ve seen movies where vampires are not considered demons. Is there some kind of catalog I can get? I need to figure this all out.”

  “For all intents and purposes, vamps, lycanthropes and incubi are lumped into the demon category along with goblins, Loki and Oni.” (Don’t ask me what those last ones are; I’m still in desperate need of an indexing system.)

  “They don’t need to have been born from a hell dimension or have tails or horns to qualify. It makes our job a little more black and white. A demon is a demon is a demon as far as the Bureau is concerned. I know it’s not politically correct, but it makes our job a little easier, a little more black and white. And no, there are no manuals or brochures, Caitlin. We’re on our own.”

  I thought about that. Not the part about the manuals. The part about how this world classified demons. It didn’t seem fair. I wondered if Briana was playing me, baiting me with convoluted logic. When she smiled, I had no doubt.

  “Now you see,” she said, “Why beings like Manners are unfairly persecuted. Truth is most vampires keep to themselves, as do werewolves. They keep to their own neighborhoods. Keep company in the same bars. Even work the same type of jobs.”

  “Demons work here?”

  “How else would they be able to send their offspring to college? Did you think they all rob banks?”

  “I just thought that…”

  “You just thought that demons, like vampires, are individuals; only out to quench their own selfish needs--pardon the expression. I can see how your pop culture has affected you. I’ve heard some real horror stories from Manners about how your Hollywood portrays them. Here, in the real world, it’s different. Vampires can procreate. They can satisfy their thirst without killing, without biting one pretty little human neck for all intents and purposes. Personally, I don’t like to call them demons. You’ll find they don’t like it either. I call them a species. And species tend to keep to themselves. You don’t find elephants walking city streets in your world, now do you?” I thought about that. I hadn’t. But then again, most elephants don’t go around sucking blood or snacking on human flesh. I decided to keep these thoughts to myself.

  I finally smiled to ease the building tension, and to politely inquire about my mounting problem. “So, about Judge Manners, is he back yet from his otherworldly excursion?”

  “He should be soon. If you’re worried about Brahms being alone, don’t. He takes great care of the apartment and treats me with the utmost respect. He even helped me clean the kitchen while you napped.”

  “I’m just worried about his safety. You know, Mollini...”

  “Well, Manners will look in on Brahms as soon as he gets back.”

  Damn it. I would have to depend upon an incubus to play babysitter for a man I still couldn’t quite trust. Despite his fatherly mannerisms, I had to wonder how involved Brahms might be. He had had his son taken from him yet doesn’t seem to aspire to find out why. I still had to think he might know more about his son’s abduction than he had admitted. I considered asking Briana for her opinion as we continued our stake-out. Parked on a dimly lit city street, less than a block from the computer firm we feared would be the next target of vandalism it seemed we had all the time in the world. I couldn’t hear even a dog barking in the stifling heat of the night. I also kept thinking how this current case paled in importance to finding Mollini.

  I finally came out with it.

  “You don’t find it odd that Brahms hired a PI for the sole purpose of tracking his son? I mean, wouldn’t he be more inquisitive--as a parent? I would think the demon who aided Mollini’s escape might possibly lead a trail back to whoever abducted his son in the first place. In other words, whoever took Mollini to my world might very well be the same people--or beings--who brought him back. Why didn’t Brahms press this PI to dig further? It’s odd.”

  “I agree, Caitlin. It’s baffling. But sometimes after a parent experiences a loss, he or she might find the ‘whys’ don’t matter as much over the years. Their only concern is finding their child. And to discover any glimmer of hope that their child is even alive after all that time has to be all-consuming to them.”

  “If that’s the case, then I wonder how Manners willingly kept himself apart from his son over the years. If the why of the circumstance becomes less important over time, wouldn’t he have reunited with his son sooner?”

  “Of course Manners always wanted to do that. Yet he was afraid.”

  “You mean, afraid of his son’s reaction to him?”

  “I believe so.”

  “But Brahms pursued Mollini in my world, daring to come to terms with that fear.”

  “He may have been more concerned about the damage Mollini was doing in your world than getting his son back. Brahms knew Mollini had been imprisoned and that he had committed crimes. Manners did not know his son had murdered. So these two cases are different. Just like the two cases we are currently investigating.”

  “I see.” My stomach grumbled, inviting a laugh from Briana. “I haven’t eaten,” I said, defending my stomach’s honor.

  “Here.” She pulled a baggie from her purse. Inside were avocado slices. “Brahms cut these up for you while you were napping. Take them.”

  Again, I reflected on how much Brahms behaved like a father figure, the paternal overlord of my altered reality.

  I took a bite and winced. They were still cool from refrigeration.

  “I guess their taste will have to be acquired. However, they’ll greatly aid your--”

  I interrupted. “It’s my tooth. Ooh.” I rubbed my hand over my right cheek. The infected tooth had been bothering me since my move to Salem, but I had neglected to make an appointment with the local dentist there. She had been unkindly dubbed as the tooth Nazi.

  “I’ll make an appointment for you. Caitlin--goddess rest her soul--and I shared the same dentist. You’ll be covered under Diggs’s insurance.”

  “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

  “Oh, I see,” Briana said. “She’s gen
tle. Don’t worry. Explains everything she’s doing, step by step.”

  “Well, okay. I guess I better go.”

  After the pain subsided, I vented some more. Brahms’s behavior bothered me, but Mollini had me nearly frustrated to tears.

  “Briana, what do you make of Mollini’s entrance to your world?”

  “I see a man who had a chance to escape prison. What more is there?”

  “I don’t know. That’s just it. There’s no logic. And if he was so concerned about escaping prison, why did he go back to my reality?” I couldn’t even get myself to say what I was thinking, that maybe he needed more power. Maybe he needed to feed there. Maybe he had fed on poor Caitlin, while breaking her neck…

  Briana pursed her lips the same way I did. That could mean only one thing, anger. “You’ll have to explain, Caitlin. Sometimes I can read minds, but it drains my reserves. It would be much easier if you would just talk to me. We’re partners now.”

  “This is just so frustrating, that’s all. I can’t begin to explain why someone would bring Mollini back to his birthplace. It makes no sense.” I sighed. “Mollini is a soul stealer. It stands to reason there are a lot more souls in my reality for him to feed on. Here, where there are more demons-I mean, species-there would be less souls, correct? Or do vampires and lycans have souls here?”

  “No, for the most part they don’t. Unless they are hybrids, half bloods.”

  “So he would never be able to dominate here. That means this isn’t about him taking over this reality. It has to be about what Mollini can do for his emancipators. I think Mollini owes someone a favor here. Our job is to find out what that favor is. And whom he owes it too… And damn it, we’re not getting any closer to finding this out sitting in a parked car…”

  Briana interrupted me. “Did you hear that?”

  “No.” I couldn’t even hear a cricket or heat bug on an oppressively warm night. How odd is that?

  “Of course you couldn’t, Caitlin. I’m tapping into a beacon. It’s a spell I use to hear and see things from afar.”