“This building, huh? So—could you go upstairs?”
He stared, and she swore he started to sweat. “Ah… that’s probably not a good idea.”
“But you could,” she pressed. If she was going to have this conversation, she didn’t want Al around, and to her knowledge the troll-like guy never left the basements if he could help it.
Which brought up another question—what
was
Al, anyway?
Slim swallowed hard, his expression a mix of wariness and interest. “I… Well, technically, I suppose I could.”
“C’mon.” Kate was already beelining to the elevator before he could change his mind, dragging him along. She wondered briefly if he was claustrophobic, as he seemed to go paler when the elevator doors closed, but his fascination with the glowing floor number screen quickly distracted him.
Fortunately, it wasn’t lunchtime or close to closing, so the lobby was relatively empty. He glanced out of the elevator like a scared rabbit.
“Let’s go in here,” she said, pulling him across the floor and over to the lobby’s coffee shop. It was in the Fiendish building, so it was a step above the usual coffee shop that Kate was used to in most office buildings she’d temped at—but despite the décor, it was still a lunch dive. Marco, the café owner, grunted his usual hello.
She grabbed two Yoo-hoos out of the fridge and plunked money on the counter. The tables were empty except for one of the guys from the mailroom, who was softly singing Bruce Springsteen to himself as he listened to his iPod at deafening levels. Marco got on the phone and started having a loud conversation in what sounded like Persian. Satisfied that it was as private as she could manage, Kate sat across the small table from Slim, who was staring around like a kid in FAO Schwarz. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
“Hmmm?” He shook his head as she unscrewed the cap on his milk bottle. “Not really, no. When I get taken for contract work, I don’t tend to interact much with humans.”
“Humans,” she repeated softly. “You don’t interact much with humans on your assignments.”
“Well, considering,” he said. “Most demons are supposed to stay confined.”
She goggled for a second before getting her shit together. “Demons. Right.” She paused. “Like the other guys in the basement, right?”
“Contracted demons,” he agreed, nodding absently.
I can’t believe he’s a demon
. Kate struggled not to stare. They didn’t look markedly different—she didn’t know what a demon was supposed to look like, but she assumed they weren’t supposed to resemble guys who did mixed martial arts in octagon cages. Or maybe that made perfect sense. What the hell did she know from demons, anyway?
I should ask Prue.
Oh, right. Prue wasn’t talking to her.
He finally noticed her quiet shock, and he grimaced. “You didn’t know, did you?” He sounded regretful. “Are you frightened? Should I… return to the basement?”
“No! No. It shouldn’t be a problem. I mean, you’re not going to eat anyone, are you?” It hadn’t occurred to her that that was an option, not with Slim, anyway.
He shot a quick glance at Marco and the mail guy, then shook his head again. “Well, no. You have managed to make sure we’re quite well fed, and even if I wasn’t—no.” He seemed amused. “But I have not known many humans who decide to speak to… my kind. Or risk exposing them to your kind, unless they deliberately wish to cause violence and mayhem.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, the question unsaid.
“Nope. Not in the market for mayhem today,” she said, and he smiled. She bit her lip, trying to figure out where to start. “I just need information. I know what Thomas is up to, but I don’t understand why. And now that I’m signed, I feel like I need to know what I’m in for.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “That does make sense. I will tell you what I can. What sort of questions do you have?”
She blinked, then took a swig of chocolate milk. “I hadn’t actually thought that far into it,” she admitted. “I didn’t even know I was coming in to work until this morning, and I didn’t know I was going to boost you until about five minutes ago. I’m kind of flying blind here, and you were the first pers—um, the first
guy
I could think of who might help.”
He followed her example, taking a sip, then smiled appreciatively at the chocolate milk. “You are a good person,” he murmured. “I suppose you want to know what kind of demon I am, to start with.”
“There are
kinds
?”
He smiled. “Yes, Kate. There are kinds.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said, feeling dumb. “So what kind are you? And why does that matter?”
“I am an Ammonite demon,” he said, sipping at the milk. “All of us downstairs, your ‘Basement Boys,’ are. That means we aren’t tied.”
“Tied? To what?” Kate wished she’d brought a notepad. This was bound to be complicated. Maybe she’d Google it when she got home.
“Sorry, not tied. Affiliated. With a demon lord. We…” He closed his eyes, as if struggling. “We are not in the hierarchy. We are… I believe it’s called
rogue
.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “That’s a good thing, right? The term ‘demon lords’ sounds fairly nasty, so if you’re not in with that bunch, I assume you’re okay. Comparatively speaking.”
He shook his head. “Many of us are rejects—seen as too weak to be used as anything but pawns in battle. Cattle fodder.”
“Cannon, I think you mean,” she corrected. “And yikes. What wars?”
“Demon Lords battle constantly in the underworld,” he said. “Every century, there is an Accounting. The Demon Lord with the most power crushes those who are lesser. The battles are…” He shuddered, and while he didn’t say anything, she noticed he looked nauseous.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, unsure of what else to say. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He tilted his head as he studied her. “You know where demons come from, do you not?”
She shrugged. “I was guessing Hell?”
He frowned. “So many of you know so little about what happened before,” he mused. “But it was a long time ago. Do you know of the war in Heaven?”
“Yeah, that one I know.” She’d managed to retain that much before getting expelled from Catholic school. Twice. “Angels rebelled; Lucifer made a bid for the throne or something…”
“Dark days.” Slim’s eyes were shadowed—literally, like a cloud going over the sun.
“You were
there
?”
He nodded. “I was one who chose poorly, yes. I listened to the rhetoric. I swelled with pride. And I resented the puny humans and their free will.” He looked at her, almost apologetically. “No offense.”
“Hey, none taken. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.” And the guy probably had centuries in Hell to think that one over. If anything, she’d probably be pretty bitter if she were him, so the fact that he was able to be somewhat positive about the whole thing was encouraging.
“But once we were cast down, we duplicated the choirs, re-established a hierarchy—and fought each other. And it has been…” He shuddered. “Pray you never know the extent of those horrors, Kate.”
She swallowed hard, pushing the chocolate milk away and wishing she’d picked a more appropriate beverage. Like Pepto Bismol. “That does bring up a point. My soul’s signed over. Does that mean I become a demon or something? How does that work?”
“No, no,” he said. “Human souls are valuable. They are hoarded by the Demon Lords. They are…” He waved his hand, as if searching for the word.
“Soldiers? Weapons?”
“Currency.” He finished the milk. “The Demon Lord with the most souls, and the most powerful souls, is the one who wins the Accounting.”
“They have to come up with a better name,” she said, nerves making her laugh weakly. “That sounds like a big, bloody IRS audit.”
He stared at her quizzically, and she shook her head.
“Never mind. So, if I, um, die… ?”
“Your soul will be the property of the one who signed you,” Slim said. “And if he dies, on to the one who signed him.”
So Thomas signed his soul, too.
That explained a little bit, like how he was able to sign
her
soul.
“Total pyramid scheme,” Kate mused.
“All the way up to the demon lord who signed the original human and sent him out,” Slim agreed.
“Is there any way to break the contract?”
He frowned. “It is nearly impossible, but it does happen.”
Hope lit in her chest. “How?”
“The one who signed you has to—”
“Kate,” Thomas’s voice interrupted. Sharply. “I didn’t know you were on a coffee break.”
Then he took one look at Slim, and his eyes widened.
Kate swallowed hard. Of course Thomas would choose now to show up. And find her here, kidnapping a demon from the basement and plying him with chocolate milk to pump him for information.
Ah, crap.
Chapter Eighteen
Thomas clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to react.
Of course Kate was sitting at a coffee shop with a demon.
Of. Frickin’. Course.
Yagi had accompanied him, and even now the man was glaring at the tall, gangly looking demon. He snarled something in a low, hissing voice. It didn’t sound Japanese. The demon grimaced and slowly got to his feet.
“Hey, knock that off! He’s here because of me,” Kate snapped, getting to her feet as well. Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, don’t tell me. You’re one of those Uno-guys, too, aren’t you? Unomodi? Onomodi?”
“Too?” That surprised Yagi enough to have him blinking at her. “You know another
onimyoji?
”
“I’ve, um, heard about them,” she hedged, then stepped protectively in front of the demon. “Anyway, Slim wasn’t hurting anybody, so don’t put the whammy on him. We were just having a little Yoo-hoo break. The Boys will be done soon, and then he’s going to have to go back, so I wanted to hang out with him.”
“And do a little research, huh?” Thomas asked dryly.
She glared at him. “Really?
You’re
going to play king of the moral high ground.
Really.
”
To Thomas’s surprise, the demon, “Slim,” stepped up. “Kate has a right to know,” he said with a quiet dignity that was surprising. “She needs to protect herself from those who would use her.”
Thomas ignored the slice of guilt that slashed through him. “Back to the basement, big fella.”
Kate put a hand on Yagi’s arm. “Don’t let Al do anything to him,” she said quietly. Desperately. “It was all my idea, dragging him up here.”
“I will miss you, Kate,” Slim said, shocking Thomas again. Even Yagi’s eyes went wide.
She didn’t seem to notice. “Don’t worry—I’ll visit again before you go back. If that’s okay?” she asked Thomas, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
“Sure,” Thomas said uncertainly. With that, Yagi accompanied the tall demon to the elevators.
Kate slumped down in her chair. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
“You
are
trouble,” he corrected, sitting across from her. “What was he telling you?”
“What Hell was like. Demon stuff.” She shrugged, then finished the rest of her milk. “Sounds awful.”
“From what I understand, it’s no picnic.” He cleared his throat. “But I wasn’t interrupting you simply to lay down the law. I need you to do something for me.”
The guilt that he’d started to feel at Slim’s cheap shot now intensified. He forced his voice to stay light, casual. Charming.
It was his deal-closing voice, he realized.
“When I first broached the subject of you becoming my assistant, you thought you weren’t, ah, ‘together’ enough to fit the job description. It occurs to me that what you wear might have something to do with it.”
She blinked at him. “Seriously? I was talking with a demon, and you’re pissed about dress code?”
“I’m not pissed,” he countered, as she took her usual Kate-left-turn from the conversation.
She gestured down at her khakis and button-down shirt. “Because this is as business-y as I can manage, I have to tell you. If it were up to me, I’d live in a Raiders sweatshirt and jeans.”
“The black and silver
would
fit our color scheme, but I think it’d be better if you wore our clothing,” he said, waiting to deliver what he thought would be the winning point. “Fiendish Fashion. Everyone who is employed at Headquarters full-time is expected to wear it, actually.”
“Seriously?” she repeated, then took a minute, looking him over. He imagined she was just taking in the black suit—which was pretty sharp, he had to admit—but the slight, almost reluctant look of admiration made him sit straighter and grin a little. “Aren’t they a bit pricey?”
“We’ve got a lower end line at Nordstrom. I wasn’t expecting you to wear the couture line.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ah, yes. The affordable clothes at
Nordstrom
.”
“In your case, it doesn’t matter.” He reached into his wallet, pulling out a glossy black credit card. “Go into the city, to our Fiendish Fashion flagship store. Get whatever you want. Hell, get
two
of whatever you want. And that includes accessories—shoes, bags, jewelry. Go nuts.”
She didn’t wear any accessories, he suddenly realized, except for her square glasses. Not a ring, earring, or even a watch. Other than her messenger bag, he didn’t think she carried a purse.
“I bet for some women, that whole ‘here, Sunshine, go on a shopping spree’ thing is a real panty-dropper.” She laughed, then gasped. “And… I just said that out loud. To my
boss.”
“Kate,” he said around a chuckle, “I can say with all honesty that I have never met another woman like you.”
“Yeah, they broke the mold when they made me,” she said, her creamy-pale cheeks going pink as she gingerly took the card. “Beat the hell out of the mold maker, too. I’ll drop by the store this weekend.”
“Now, that’s not going to do.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Take the rest of the day. Henri, the manager, will be waiting for you there to help you pick out stuff. I’ll send you with a limo, too. There’s no way you’d be able to carry a full wardrobe back on the BART.”
“A full wardrobe? And the limo?
Today
?” She gaped at him. “Why?”
Thomas cleared his throat. “We’re holding a press conference tomorrow. I want to introduce you as my new hire.”
Now her eyes narrowed. “I’m a secretary. Who holds a press conference because they’ve hired an assistant?”
He knew she’d ask. Any other woman might have just basked in the opportunity, or quailed at the exposure. Most would be too bowled over by the
Pretty Woman
wardrobe treatment to care.
But Kate went to the heart of it.
“The president and CEO of Fiendish does,” he answered easily. “Don’t worry, Fiendish is the story more than anything. All you need to do is smile, maybe answer a few questions about your background. Honestly, they’re probably going to want to take pictures of you and ask some stupid questions, but if you’re going to represent me, I want you to look… well…”
“You want me to look Fiendish,” she said, and graced him with a mischievous smile that had his heart pumping a little more quickly. “You want me to look the part.”
“I want you to be yourself,” he said. “But yeah, I’d like to see you in my clothes.”
Her eyes widened, and she licked her bottom lip nervously. He stared at the unconscious action, drawn to it.
Then realized what he’d said.
“I want to see you showcasing the brand,” he amended. Although he suddenly had an image of her wearing only one of his shirts—and nothing else.
She grinned, but her cheeks were pink. “Yeah, okay, sure. I’ll, er, go get branded.”
He smiled, and they both laughed.
It was so easy, he thought. So easy to forget why he’d hired her—why she was still there.
So easy to ignore why he was putting her on television, in newspapers, and anyplace else he could think of to draw Victor Klauss out.
…
The next day, Thomas wasn’t sure if it was bribery, curiosity, or just a slow news day, but his hardworking publicist Rhonda had managed to get all the Bay Area news outlets there for his grand “press conference”—probably by using the fact that he hadn’t had a press conference in ages as some kind of bait, now that he thought about it. Frankly, he didn’t see what was fascinating about him personally, but apparently they were slavering for a shot at him like starving dogs staring at a rib-eye steak. They were set up in the biggest conference room, using the Fiendish logo as a backdrop. There were TV news crews. There were newspapers from San Francisco down to San Jose. He was pretty sure they’d let some bloggers in, as well. And all of them were eager to hear what the big news was, since everyone knew that after he made his first hundred million, he never, ever gave interviews. His publicist had been dying to pull together a press conference since they’d relocated the headquarters.
And today I’m announcing… that I hired a secretary.
He’d probably come off looking self-indulgent at best, an idiot at worst. But he was running out of time—he had Victor in striking distance, his metaphysical ninja consultant was about to walk, and he didn’t have a lot of options. With thirteen bodies to drop in one year, he wasn’t going to let the only one he knew of get away.
Yagi was confident that Victor might be brutal, was probably an unbelievably strong soul… but he had a weakness, and right now, that weakness looked just like Kate.
Thomas glanced over. Kate had done as instructed, going out to the Fiendish Fashion store and getting outfitted “as befit her new job.” She looked sharp and chic, which wasn’t surprising, since he’d hired a stylist who had done her hair and makeup, and they’d chosen her outfit. Kate’s glossy red curls were tamed and lacquered, falling in perfect crimson swirls. She was wearing a snappy black military-inspired jacket with shiny silver buttons, a snowy white shirt, and a black tie. Her trademark glasses were gone. Her lips were a dark crimson against skin that was a little too pale, even for her.
She looks like one of the Men in Black
, he thought uncomfortably. She didn’t look like Kate at all.
Then he noticed she also looked scared as hell, which made him even more uncomfortable.
“You holding up okay?” he asked for the fifth time.
“If you ask me that again,” she whispered between her teeth, “I am going to throw up.”
Now,
there
was the Kate he knew. “It’ll be over quickly. Like a measles shot.”
“Well, let’s get it over with, then.”
He glanced at the publicist who’d pulled this together, a stick-thin woman with iron-gray hair and a beaming smile. She gave him a thumbs-up.
Showtime
, he thought, and then walked up to the black podium.
“Thank you all for coming here today,” he said to the sea of faces in the room.
“Mr. Kestrel! Mr. Kestrel!” People started calling out his name, waving their hands frantically, trying to get his attention.
“Now, now, there will be time for questions at the end, but…” He took a deep breath. “The real star of today’s show is my latest hire. Everyone knows behind every great man is a phenomenal assistant, and for me, that’s Kate O’Hara.”
There was a moment of silence as they digested that—then camera flashes went off like fireworks. Kate winced a little, a plastic smile hanging on by a thread.
“Why don’t you step up here, Kate; let them get a look at you?” Thomas said, gesturing to her. There was a second’s flash in her eyes—
why don’t you just screw yourself,
her expression seemed to say—but she walked forward and took her place at his right side. “Folks, Kate O’Hara is local to the East Bay, which should show just how serious I am about our relocation here. A CEO’s executive assistant is his right arm, buffer, and guardian. She’s going to be an invaluable part of my corporate team and one of my most crucial assets here at the new Oakland headquarters.”
They stared at him, silently, for a long moment. He could read the disbelief in their expressions.
Seriously? You really brought us out all this way because you hired an assistant?
He stood his ground.
The flashes strobed again, like a dance club, and reporters started yelling questions like crazy.
“That’s the announcement,” Thomas said, holding up his hands. There was a roar of disappointment.
“You can’t just leave them like that,” the publicist said, stopping his retreat. “You were the one who called this. If you don’t control the story, God knows what they’re going to print up.”
He knew the publicist was right, but he also knew his real agenda here. He needed Kate visible. If she just walked away, the story would still be
him
. He needed Victor to see
her
… hale, hearty, and maddeningly unharmed.
He stopped Kate’s retreat, guiding her toward the microphones. “Kate will take a few questions,” he said, then, God help him, nudged her in front of the microphone.
She shot him one quick poisonous glare before she turned back to the roaring clamor of journalists. “Whoa. Okay, let’s everybody… Come on. Everybody settle down now.”
Pandemonium still reigned for a solid five minutes. In the meantime, Kate stood there, arms crossed, looking bored. “I can stand here all day, guys,” she said, and they finally quieted. She pointed at an earnest young Asian man in the front. “You’re from the
Daily Cal
?”
“Yes,” he said with a grin.
“I went to Cal,” she answered, with a grin of her own. “What’s your question?”
“Why is your hiring important?” he asked, his voice breaking on the last word. He cleared his throat as people laughed. “I mean, Thomas Kestrel never has interviews and never does press conferences. What does your hiring mean for Fiendish Enterprises?”
Kate glanced over at Thomas. “That sounds like a question for my boss,” she said, but he shook his head, ever so slightly. She sighed. “Okay. I have no idea. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time. Next question?”
Thomas saw the publicist’s eyes go frantic. He realized that he’d wanted to keep Kate in the dark about his plan to use her to taunt Victor out of hiding—and suddenly realized, in the middle of all his other work tasks, he might have considered coming up with a better cover story for this.
Stupid. This is why you need an assistant
, he thought, the irony not lost on him. Still, it would be a good way to see how Kate handled herself in pressure situations. God knew she’d probably be in a few more before the year was over.
A local news anchor type, all big smile and fashionably cut hair, stood up and waved. Kate called on her. “So, you’re local to the Bay Area?”
“Yes.” Kate nodded.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that Thomas Kestrel, one of the most powerful business men in the world, hired you for an assistant?”
“I know, right?” Kate answered vehemently, prompting more laughter. “Totally odd. Next question?”