**NB. This story is as it comes – straight out of my head and may contain typos**
CHAPTER 6 – BLANE
“Did you see the bag in the hallway?” Joseph asked.
“What bag?”
I’d been focusing on Kayden Gilmore’s reactions, not his surroundings.
“The duffel bag beside the coffee table. Either Kayden’s going to the gym, or he’s going on a trip. And Wren said he doesn’t go to the gym.”
“You asked her that? What, did you think you’d join and accidentally-on-purpose coordinate your workouts with his?”
Joseph’s reddening cheeks said that had been precisely his plan. The joys of inhabiting a human body—there was no hiding his true thoughts. In demon form, he was a lot harder to read.
“If you’re going to belittle me, I’m going home.”
“Home to Las Vegas, or home to Plane Three?”
“Vegas, of course. Who would want to spend longer than five minutes with Decima?”
“I thought you enjoyed torture and bondage and all that shizzle?”
“Not with her.” He shuddered. “Do you want my help or not?”
Joseph might have acted annoying at times, but he’d been the only person to volunteer to accompany me when I got exiled to Plane Five, and his loyalty was unquestionable. Plus he had spotted the duffel bag.
“Yes, I want your help.” I sighed because humility didn’t come naturally to me. Other than the occasional moment of grovelling to my father, I’d never had to apologise for anything in Plane Three. “I’m sorry I belittled you. You really think Kayden’s planning to take a trip?”
“Yes, and since he doesn’t travel for work, I bet he’s going to see Wren, wherever she is.”
“He might be going on vacation.”
“When his sister’s in trouble?”
That was a fair point. “You think we should follow him?” Because that might present a problem. “This car isn’t exactly subtle.”
Joseph nodded his agreement. “And I bet he noticed when you spent ten minutes trying to park outside his residence, ergo he knows this is your car. One glance in the rear-view mirror, and he’ll realise we’re behind him.”
“Please, spend even more time criticising my driving abilities. Why don’t you try doing something constructive?”
“Like what?”
“Like finding us another vehicle?”
“In Mesquite?”
“Well, we don’t have time to drive back to Las Vegas, do we?”
“Why can’t you find another vehicle?”
“Because…because…” The simple answer would have been that I was the boss and he was born to serve me. In Plane Three, that excuse would have worked, but I’d discovered the power balance wasn’t so simple in Plane Five. Freedom was a big deal here. Wars had been fought based on the concept. And much as I hated to admit it, I was grateful that Joseph had accompanied me on my journey. Before Vee came along, he’d been the only soul I could talk to freely. With everyone else, I had to wear a mask. Over the past several years, Joseph had become a friend as well as a servant, and I needed to keep reminding myself of that fact. “Because you’re better at procuring chattels than I am. Please would you find us another vehicle?”
That got a smile out of him. “Fine. I’ll arrange alternative transportation. You need to move the Bentley somewhere else and watch the house.”
I could manage that. If I could find a reasonably empty field or a large grocery store parking lot, I might be able to squeeze the car in with only two or three attempts.
“I’ll call you if he leaves.”
“When he leaves.”
I only hoped Joseph was right in his assumption. In Plane Three, he’d been a bureaucrat, more concerned with arranging schedules and monitoring the usage of consumables than with psychoanalysis. It was only when we came to earth that he’d developed an interest in the human mind. But his twin sister had been a member of my enforcement team, so maybe when their souls were cleaved during creation, some of Grimalda’s investigative abilities had rubbed off on him?
“Okay, when he leaves.”
***
“Joseph, tell me you have a vehicle?”
Fifteen minutes after I’d hunkered into position behind a neighbour’s trash can—it smelled disgusting, by the way—Kayden Gilmore hurried out of his home carrying the duffel bag and climbed into a small black car parked fifty yards down the street. His steps were fast, his frame tense. The man was definitely unhappy with the current situation.
“Just finishing the negotiations.”
“Hurry, he just left.”
“Be there in one minute.”
“Make it thirty seconds.”
Kayden’s car engine coughed into life just as I heard a shout from behind me.
“Freeze, mothertrucker!”
Unlikely. It might have been early March, but this was Nevada. I turned to find a tiny grey-haired lady standing on the porch of the house next door, and she was pointing a gun in my direction.
“Be careful with that thing. You might shoot me.”
“That’s the whole point, asshole. What you doin’ over there by the garbage cans? Are you one of them dumpster divers?”
“How many dumpster divers do you know who wear six-thousand-dollar suits?”
She considered that for a moment. “Are you a burglar?”
Kayden’s car backfired as he pulled out of the parking space, and the woman jumped three inches in the air, squeezing the trigger as she did so. It seemed her aim was better than her judgment because damn, that stung. And now the suit was worthless because the jacket had a hole in it. I pulled out my pocket square—at least it served some purpose—and used it to blot up the blood that had seeped out of my chest before my body healed. Joseph was going to laugh his head off when he found out about this.
“You shot me. You actually shot me.”
The woman had turned pale now, and the gun slipped out of her hand, landing with a clunk on the wooden porch. At least the damn thing didn’t go off again.
“I shot you,” she whispered, clutching at her own chest.
For the love of Dad, I didn’t have time for this. “Yes, exactly. You need to take more care when handling a firearm.”
A man ran out of the house on the other side, barefoot in pyjama pants, still with blobs of shaving foam on his face.
“What happened? I heard gunshots.”
“It was a car backfiring, but the noise scared your neighbour. I think she’s having a turn.”
“Margaret, are you okay?”
“I…I…”
“Maybe you should sit with her for a while? Get her a glass of water?”
“Sure, I’ll do that. Hey, is that blood on your shirt?”
“No, I spilled ketchup on it earlier.” I gave a nonchalant shrug. “They never give you enough napkins at the drive-through. Nice meeting you, Margaret.”
I strolled out of the yard just in time to catch sight of Kayden turning right at the end of the road. Was I worried that Margaret might spill the beans about my immortality? No, not really. Who would believe her? Either she’d keep her mouth shut, or she’d be written off as delusional. Or perhaps those chest pains would fast-track her to Plane Four and she’d forget all about me?
Now, where was Joseph? If we didn’t set off after Kayden right now, we’d lose not only him but our best lead to finding Wren. I was about to call him again when I heard rattling, the sound of an engine in its death throes. A horn sounded behind me, more of a wheeze than a toot, and I turned to see a pickup that had once been white but was now more rust-coloured belching its way in my direction, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.
And worse, Joseph was behind the wheel.
Tell me he’s kidding.
He juddered to a halt beside me. “Hop in.”
“This is your idea of staying inconspicuous?”
“There are a couple of ball caps on the seat. The guy threw them in for free.”
Could this day get any worse?
“Tell me you didn’t pay money for this rust-bucket?”
Yes. Yes, it could.
“No, not actual cash. I traded it for the Bentley.”
It had to be a joke. “You swapped my luxury sedan for a truck that’s only one pothole away from a merciful end at the junkyard?”
“You said you hated the Bentley. Are we going after Kayden, or aren’t we?”
I sucked in a breath. Some days, I was glad I’d come to Plane Five. Happy to be living among mortals and experiencing their sins for myself. But other days, this one included, I longed to be back in Plane Three, wrangling unruly souls and keeping the fires of hell stoked. If I ever returned, I was going to take this truck with me and make the next miscreant to rub me up the wrong way drive it for all eternity.
“Yes, we’re going after Kayden.”
I yanked on the door handle, and it came off in my hand.
“The guy said that handle can be temperamental—just clip it back on and lift as you pull.”
Suddenly, dying from a gunshot wound seemed the lesser of two evils.
“Never again am I putting you in charge of transportation.”
Joseph just grinned as we lurched away from the kerb. “Okay, next time we’ll take the bus.”
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Chapter 7
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