Storm of Sin - Patricia D. Eddy Page 0,48

new black blazer I almost didn’t take from the bag of clothing Sin bought me. Until I checked the temperature outside and realized it was in the forties. “I need to know about their talents. How long their influence can last, what they can do to their victims…”

“Did he feed off of you?” Her voice sharpens, the hint of outrage both embarrassing and welcome. “Hon, that’s sexual harassment right there. I don’t care who he is, you work together.”

“He had to.”

“You’re defending him?” she hisses, the very feline tone full of outrage. “Zoe—“

I rest my elbows on the table and drop my head into my hands. “Just let me explain. We were attacked yesterday, and he was hurt trying to protect me. Seriously hurt. And I had a choice. Let him feed from me or watch him die alongside me. He…he actually asked as he was lying there bleeding all over me.”

“Huh. Incubi don’t usually have that level of control. He’s old then. Really old.”

Picking through yesterday’s memories, I say, “At least six hundred.”

“Holy shit. Hon, he’s obviously careful as fuck. Most incubi and succubi are killed by their victims’ jealous lovers long before that.”

I choke back a sip of coffee. Dammit. I should have taken the time to add some creamer to this swill. “So how long does their influence last? After they feed, I mean.”

“You said he asked, right?”

“Yes.”

“What color were his irises?”

“Dark red. Even the whites of his eyes turned red.”

“He didn’t influence you, Zoe. He couldn’t have. Using his talent to alter or influence a person’s thoughts? It requires energy. If his eyes were pure red, he was fucked. Like about to die fucked.”

Suddenly realizing just how close we came to not making it out of that garage alive, I set the coffee down and force a few deep breaths to stop the room from spinning. “You’re…sure?” I wheeze.

“Pretty damn sure. Also pretty damn worried. Where are you right now?” Dion’s voice takes on a motherly tone, and I answer automatically.

“Work.”

“The Bureau’s off of Portrero, right? You have time to get coffee with me? Like now? I think the rest of this conversation needs to happen in person.”

I shouldn’t. Both because this case has a major countdown clock over our heads and because talking about my partner to a civilian feels…wrong. But I don’t have any friends in the world of the other—except Kunchin—and I’m definitely not going to talk to a coworker about this shit. If I’m honest, I don’t have any friends in the human world either. Not really.

“I can be at the Blue Bottle Coffee on Sansome in fifteen minutes.”

Dion sighs, her relief bleeding through my earbuds. “The first cup’s on me.”

Sin

I can hardly see past my fear when I enter the Bureau. Zoe left my apartment alone—with only a terse text message explaining she was going to take a Lyft into work. Thank fuck for the Fiat Spider I keep in the garage in reserve. The Audi is still at James Temple’s apartment. Or at least I hope it is.

Zoe is not at her desk either. Why did I not impress upon her the immense danger she is now in? Regina saw her. Saw me expose my wings to save her life. Zoe has the mortal realm’s largest target on her back, and she is galavanting around alone? I can still detect a hint of her scent, so she has not been gone long.

Before I try to find her, I have the tech department transfer my mobile number to my backup phone. My primary cell ended up in six separate pieces after the explosion. Within seconds, the device vibrates, and two text messages flash across the screen.

Commander Eve: Where the hell are you?

Zoe: Running an errand. Be back at 11:00 a.m. Don’t bother me unless there’s a break in the case.

The order stings. No, it does more than that. It slashes a knife deep into a heart I thought far too damaged to feel anything.

I have to work at summoning my anger. Usually so close to the surface, it has faded since I met Zoe, and that is unacceptable. Anger keeps me focused, and I require as much of it as I can muster now. Phone in hand, I jab the screen hard enough, I fear it will crack.

Where are you? I am coming to pick you up.

“Sinclair! Get your ass in here!” the commander shouts, her tone not one to be dismissed. She stares daggers at me as I approach, shoving