Angel: Private Eye Book One (17 page)

I cleared my throat. “I’m not that tired,” I
said meekly.

“Ah, I see. Well, in the very unlikely event
that you are having a reaction to built-up magic, I can suggest a
few simple mental tricks to help defend yourself against it.”

I deliberately didn’t look at him.

“Chapter 48 of the book you’re reading would
suffice.”

“What?” I blinked.

He gestured to my pocket. “Chapter 48 of
that book lists all you need to know to keep yourself guarded
against unwanted magic.”

“I—” I brought a hand up and patted my flat
pocket. “… How do you know what’s in my pocket?”

He smiled.

“Don’t – don’t tell me I still have so much
to learn about this magical world. Just tell me how you knew,” I
demanded.

He reached his doors and waved them
open.

I expected them to groan, grate on their
massive hinges, considering their size.

They didn’t.

They opened silently like a hushed breath of
air shifting gently past your cheek.

“We vampires have a very keen sense of
smell. And the book you’re reading just happens to be one of the
most famous in the magical world. It has been around eons, and is
constantly updated as changes happen within the otherworld realm.
As such, it has a very strong scent of magic. Unmistakable, I’m
afraid.”

“Oh,” I managed, feeling glum at the
prospect vampires could actually smell how stupid I was now. I was
walking around with the equivalent of a scented instructional
manual in my pocket.

He led me into his office.

And oh what a sight it was. With windows
along two sides, it offered categorically the best view of the city
I’d ever seen, and that included the view from my room in Mr
Marvelous’ shop.

I didn’t go in for modern style, usually –
it was all drab colors and flat lines, to me. But this room looked
incredible. Every element was specifically crafted, every detail
allowing the eye to slip around the office in a seamless,
uninterrupted curve.

More than anything, though, it was the lack
of magic that caught my attention. As horrible as it was to admit,
I felt completely normal and at-home in a vampire king’s haunt.

Benson caught me gawking at his office,
dipped his head to the side, and locked me in another of those
charming smiles. “Does it meet with your approval, Miss—”

“Lizzie,” I corrected as I tugged my gaze
off his office and finally faced him.

I could have paused, asked him to show me
around a bit, even asked for something to eat, considering how
famished I was.

I didn’t. I surprised myself by jumping
straight in. “You offered earlier today to help me find out more
about the vampires of this city. I need you to arrange a meeting
between me and Theodore van Edgerton.”

Benson stiffened. As he stood there in the
middle of his office, body outlined by the gorgeous glow of the
city below, I watched his shoulders shift out and his jaw tuck
down. “What?”

Now, I may have only known William Benson
for a couple of days. So far, he’d only ever spoken to me like the
charming, suave, in-control vampire he was.

Right now, I couldn’t deny the tension
tightening his tone and locking his jaw in place.

I blinked quickly. “Theodore—”

“I heard what you said, but the answer's
no.”

“What? I thought—” Before I could accuse him
of going back on his deal, his phone rang.

He didn’t jump – even though I jolted at the
interruption.

“Very well, I’ll be right there.” He ended
the call, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and looked at me.
“Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Ah, are you sure? This is your office—” I
had no idea what I was saying.

Benson slowly tugged an eyebrow up. “I trust
you, Elizabeth. Now please feel free to take a rest.” He motioned
to the chaise longue.

I sat down on it and blinked up at him as he
gave a single courteous nod, then smoothly turned on his foot,
striding out of the room and leaving me alone.

What a hell of a day today had been.

From waking up this morning in my new bed,
to sitting here in William Benson's own office.

I dearly wanted to wriggle up off the couch
and investigate, maybe pull back some of the drawers on his
cherrywood desk and see exactly how dark the secrets were
within.

I wasn't stupid, though. Do that, and I’d
probably trip some kind of alarm. Demons would probably spurt from
the cracks in the walls and drag me back to Hell before I could as
much as scream.

Still, this was weird. Weird and kind of…
exciting.

His office wasn't anything like I'd
imagined.

Where were all the broken crosses, the
warnings about garlic, the sunglasses and sun screen?

Okay, those were facetious observations.
Seriously, though, it just looked… normal. Extremely expensive, and
just the kind of opulent office you would expect to find on the
penthouse floor of the most expensive skyscraper in the city. What
it wasn't, was creepy. No vibes. Nothing. Zip.

He was right – I couldn’t feel a scrap of
magic anywhere in here. What was more, though, it wasn’t dark,
dangerous, or nasty.

I certainly didn’t get the impression as I
stared around the place with an open mouth that Benson had taken
the opportunity just that morning to kill his secretary, murder any
puppies, or generally act like a devilish vampire.

The minutes started to tick past.

Benson certainly didn’t come back in a
jiffy.

He was obviously halfway through some kind
of expensive, fancy soirée. Maybe he’d just forgotten about me
completely, and I’d be forced to curl up on his couch, waking the
next morning to the sight of him shooting me a belittling look over
his cup of coffee.

I sneered at the thought of it.

I also got to my feet. Goddamn did it
require a lot of courage, but for the weirdest, strangest reason,
courage was something I had around Benson. Around Cortez, around
the vampires, around this entire situation – nope.

Benson, yes. Don't ask me to quote myself,
but I didn't feel particularly threatened by him.

That was probably the most stupid thing I'd
ever said, but I couldn't deny my heart.

Yes, Benson was a vampire, and he was a bit
of a dick, but somehow I knew he would keep his end of the bargain.
He'd look for a way to figure out what I was without concurrently
looking for a way to bleed me dry.

“You better not be wrong about this, Lizzie
Luck,” I muttered as I clamped my hands behind my back and began to
walk around his office.

Several minutes passed, then almost 10, and
he still didn't return.

I was starting to get bored, which was
surprisingly possible in the office of a vampire king.

Once I finished looking at the expensive art
hung over the walls and the few stylish antiques arranged in the
display cabinets, I stuck my thumb in my mouth and started to chew
it.

Purely on a whim. On a stupid whim, I walked
towards the door and tried the handle.

Every ounce of sense I had told me that the
door would be locked. Mr Benson was not the kind of idiot to leave
me access to the rest of his building.

…
Except the door wasn't
locked. The handle yielded easily under my firm grip.

I let out a little, suitably stupid squeak
as the well-oiled mechanism of the door swung open to reveal the
clear, long, completely empty hallway beyond.

I stood there, frozen on the spot, expecting
Benson to sweep down and punish me for leaving the office.… Nope.
Nothing. No one. Not even a security guard.

I… I started to hear something. Far off on
the edge of hearing.

That muttering.

I frowned at it, tried to turn away, tried
to walk back into Benson’s office.

I couldn’t.

The muttering grew almost imperceptibly
louder as I took a hesitant step forward and then another.

Just as had happened with the vent this
afternoon, I started to feel compelled.

As I paid more and more attention to the
muttering, it dragged me forward.

Before I realized what I was doing, I found
a set of fire escape stairs.

I took them. Down to one floor, then down to
another.

There was no method to my madness. I had no
idea where I was going. If I valued my life, I knew full well that
I should turn around, head back to his office, and pretend nothing
had ever happened.

Did that stop me?

No.

I found myself reaching out a hand and
opening the fire escape door onto one of the levels.

As far as I knew, it was just a random
floor.

And yet… I don't know, my gut started to
churn. And something started to churn it.

I shifted forward, head swiveling from
side-to-side as I wondered what the hell was down here.

It looked like simple, innocuous offices
branching off the long, wide hallway. Simple and innocuous, that
was, until I reached one. A door.

And stopped.

I stopped, because every magical sense I
shouldn't have, suddenly exploded and pointed towards the door like
a massive neon lit arrow.

That compulsion was back, springing through
my limbs, sinking into my hands, and seeing my fingers tingle with
so much energy there was only one thing I could do to chase it away
– open the door.

I suddenly became exquisitely aware of my
heartbeat as it roared in my ears.

I reached the door. I brought a hand up and
rested it on the handle. Immediately a zing of power rippled
through my fingers, feeling as if I’d gathered a handful of sparks
from a fire.

I went to open the door, feeling the smooth,
cool metal of the handle start to twist in my suddenly sweaty
palm.

Out of nowhere, a hand suddenly grabbed my
shoulder and pulled me back. It had such force that I spun around
on the ball of my foot, my ballet shoes squeaking over the polished
floor.

I stared up into Benson’s face. It was
hooded with shadow, despite the fact this floor was perfectly
lit.

My heart ground to a stop and my lungs felt
as if they shut down completely.

He didn’t keep a hand latched on my
shoulder, and rather stepped back. With his gaze riveted on me, it
still felt like his fingers were pressing into the soft flesh
between my shoulder blade and collar bone.

I swallowed wildly. “What are you doing
here?”

“I should ask you the same. Miss Luck,
please don’t bother telling me you were searching for the bathrooms
and got lost. I made sure my staff made very clear signs.”

I was flustered. Hell, my heart was
shuddering so quickly it was like a wet dog trying to shake itself
dry.

…
And yet, the fear at
being found out by Benson wasn’t anywhere near the fear I’d
experienced last night when I’d faced that vampire in the
alley.

Whether I liked it or not, I was starting to
realize William Benson III was a gentleman. And if not a gentleman,
then at least a vampire who knew how to control himself.

He took another step from me to either
reinstate his personal space or that invisible barrier he always
respected whenever he was in my presence.

I watched him swallow hard enough that his
taught neck pushed against the tight white collar of his shirt.

“Come with me.” He motioned me forward with
a snapped word and an even more snapped wave.

I… stood exactly where I was. “What? You’re
not going to grab my wrist and drag me forward? I thought you
vampires never respected personal space?”

Wait… hold on. What the hell had I just
asked Benson? Did I have a death wish?!

Though I wanted to blame my irrational
question on the latent effects of my attack last night, that would
be denying one important fact – I always seemed to lose my mind
around this man. The mere cut of his shadow across the corridor or
the caress of his gaze was enough for me to drop my marbles and to
start dribbling on the floor. I’d switch between defiance and
saying the first stupid thing I could think of.

Benson made a soft indiscernible noise. “You
don’t strike me as the type to like being led around by their
wrist, Miss Luck.”

Wow, his voice was smooth. Move over whisky
on the rocks, it was more like wriggling between a set of satin
sheets after a long hot soak in the tub.

…
As that particular image
flashed through my mind, I flushed and cleared my throat. “You’re
right. I don’t want to be led around. So I’m going in here, if you
don’t mind.” I twisted back to the door and reached for the
handle.

What. The. Hell. Was. I. Doing? He was right
there behind me. This was his office block. He had every legal
right to kick me out and press charges for snooping around.

I managed to latch my hand over the smooth
brass before I felt a rush of air beside me.

This time he grabbed my wrist and pulled me
back. Though grabbed wasn’t the right word. His touch was firm and
yet hesitant all at the same time.

He pulled me around until I was right next
to him. Slowly, feeling every minute move of every minute muscle in
my neck, I tipped my head back and stared into his cold blue
gaze.

Except it wasn’t so much cold anymore – it
was burning hot with some emotion I’d never seen the smooth, suave
William Benson show.

“Be very careful, Miss Luck. I can only
protect you so far. You know nothing about this world, so don’t
walk into someone else’s web.” His penetrating gaze flicked off me
and locked on the door.

He was still holding my wrist. He hadn’t
dropped it like a hot coal and darted backwards yet.

“W…what’s behind the door?” I asked.

This was the bit where I should retreat,
blubber my sorrys, and get the hell away from this guy.

So why was I staring up into his eyes
defiantly? And why the hell was I asking more bloody questions?