Callie was shaking her head with a vague look in her eyes. “I seem to recall the police thought the killer was out of state.” Her eyes focused again. “But if the styling is similar, it could be the same person. They didn’t catch him, I don’t think.”
“A demon is more powerful?” I asked again.
“A demon is much more powerful, yes, but they don’t like to share a body. Oftentimes, they’ll start off by sharing, prove to be lovely roommates, and when the body gets complacent, the demon takes over.”
“Then what?” Darius asked.
“Well, they find a larger source of power, of course. Demons always crave more power, in themselves and in their masters. It is always about power with them, which is why inviting them to the surface is trouble, no matter how insignificant the demon starts out. They can grow and generate more power, and they constantly seek to do so, much like humans.”
“So, what if the body had ingested a very potent source of magical power?” I asked, trying to be as vague as possible. “A crazy-days boost of power, we’re talking. One that could destroy a magical person as easily as boost them…”
“Then hell would be invited to earth, and the seas would boil in the blood of the lost.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Well, that was a terrifying and horrible end to a lovely visit,” I said conversationally as Darius and I drove out of the Garden District.
“Mrs. Banks seemed overly familiar with you when we parted,” Darius said in an even tone.
He could say that again. Before releasing me into the car, Callie had given me a fierce hug and a mighty pat on my back, promising me she’d see me again. The warning in her eye said I better not try to get out of it. I was stuck with her, which was a good thing, most likely. If she knew my lineage, she was someone to watch.
Plus, the thought of actually having someone in my life made my middle squishy. My mom’s passing had left a gaping hole in my solitary life. I was lonely, whether I would admit it out loud or not. Having a friend, regardless of her age and liberal take on screwing and killing vampires, would be welcomed.
Not like I could tell Darius any of that.
“Yeah,” I said in answer to Darius’s hinted question. “I told you. I’m likable.”
“Moss mentioned that Mrs. Banks muted her conversation with you upstairs.”
“Moss?” I turned my focus to the front of the car. I smiled at the dark eyes that flicked up into the rearview mirror. “Is that his real first name?”
The eyes in the mirror narrowed. When I laughed, he glowered.
“Why did she feel the need to keep your conversation private?” Darius asked.
“You’ll never know.” I entwined my fingers in my lap. “What a strange first name. Moss. Was your mom a hippy?”
Moss’s gaze went back to the street. I could barely see the nerve pop out in the side of his jaw from irritation. Why this tickled me, I had no idea.
“Dawn is fast approaching,” Darius said. “We will stay in my residence for the day, and tomorrow night will acquire more information.”
It turned out his “residence” was a massive corner house in the French Quarter. I hadn’t closed my mouth since walking in the front door. Over six thousand square feet of a sort of modern elegance I’d never seen before, let alone actually experienced. Gorgeous furniture graced the well-appointed and spacious rooms. Art like I’d seen in the Dungeon hung on the walls, perfectly accenting other decorations. Fresh flowers sweetened the air. Freshly painted walls hinted at the total makeover this older home must’ve had in the recent past. It was…extraordinary.
“I am nowhere near classy enough to hang out in this place.” I flinched away from the arm of a light-colored sofa. “I’m dirty. Do you have any plastic I can put down before I sit on stuff? Even the floor looks too clean for the likes of me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Darius directed me up a stairway, where I marveled at the textured walls. Strings of flowers periodically draped down from the bannister. They were real, too. Fresh.
“Do they put flowers here every day?” I asked.
“Of course. It is essential to be surrounded by living things. It reminds us of when we were alive, and the wonders of the living. I cherish it.”
I grimaced, but refrained from mentioning that the flowers weren’t alive, not anymore. In essence, he was surrounding himself with fresh death.
“Here. A meal prepared for you.”
He gestured through an opened door, and when I entered the room, I started laughing. “No.” I walked back out. “Don’t you have a kitchen I can eat in? At the counter?”
His brow rumpled. “Don’t be absurd. You are a guest. You cannot eat at the counter like a servant.” He practically spat the last words out.
“Let’s not think of me as a guest. Think of me as a stray cat that you are hesitant to feed lest I stay, but you pity me enough to toss me a few scraps. Seriously. That’s the way you should treat this whole situation.”
“Do you not want to eat alone, is that the issue?” He studied me.
“Alone is great. I’ll just grab a few things and head on down to the kitchen, which is probably still cleaner than I am.”
“I am losing my patience. I’ll send someone to attend you.” His hand on my back wasn’t as light as normal, and it became even firmer as he all but shoved me into the large room with a ginormous table that could easily seat twenty people. I knew this, because there were twenty chairs surrounding it.
Twenty chairs.
More could squeeze in, of course. There were another six chairs against the wall, just waiting for go time. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle, bedecked with electric candles. Big, draped curtains closed off the windows, blocking all light, which was weird but probably a necessity, and a large rug stretched beneath all of this.
Did I mention it was all light cream? Walls, chairs, parts of the rug—light cream.
I did mention I was dirty. Filthy, actually. I was wearing the clothes in which I’d rolled around in the dirt. Dust was fleeing from me in puffs.
When dust wouldn’t even stick to my person, I knew I had no place among cream-colored decorations.
I circled the table, trying to stay on the thin slice of wood floor between the rug and the wall. This became difficult when the extra chairs stood in my way, so I stripped off my boots and gasped at the lines of brown on my socks. Those had to come off, too.
Barefooted, I continued to circle, eyeing the simply wasteful array of food that had been set out. Among the plentiful options was an entire roast beef surrounded by baked potatoes and carrots, a punch bowl of soup with a ladle, a roasted chicken with rice pilaf, a silver tray with crab legs accompanied with melted butter, and shrimp dishes. The spread could feed enough hungry people to fit in all twenty-six chairs, plus a few stowaways besides.
I blew out a breath as I eyed the lone plate at the head of the table.
He’d had all this prepared for one person. Me. What a nincompoop.
“Well…” I sighed. “I better try to eat it all, or he’ll think I’m rude.”
“What was that?”
I jumped and my hand shot to my sword as a beautiful woman entered the room. Brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose curls, and she wore a strapless dress with a sparkly sort of bodice leading down into flowing silk. With a face that would make cupid sport a boner, she was a knockout. I wasn’t into girls, but even I wanted to stare at her and drool.
“You’re Darius’s girlfriend, then?” I asked. Because that seemed to fit. Handsome guy, hot chick, A-list friends. What tabloid hadn’t I seen that in?
She drifted into the room like a poltergeist and waited beside a chair next to the head of the table. I hurried forward and pulled the chair out for her. Logic said it wasn’t my job, but my motor skills seemed to think otherwise.
She lowered herself into it like a queen and folded her hands in her lap.
I hovered around my chair like a gobshite, dopey and clumsy. “You really don’t have to hang out with me,” I said. My stomach growled.
Why didn’t you say that before you pulled her chair out, idiot? Now she thinks you secretly do want her to hang out with you.