Sam’s answer was immediate. “Ninety-nine percent sure.”
The utter confidence in her voice was enough for me. I smiled. “Then introduce us to who’s behind door number three.”
“Diane Glass.” Jared handed me a photograph.
I took a quick look at the brunette, noticing her prominent cheekbones and bow mouth, before passing it on. “Her gift didn’t protect her from being photographed?”
“She was human when that was taken,” said Sam. “According to our researchers, she’s quite the business woman – has her hands in many pies, none of which could be considered legal or moral. But that’s not why we’re certain she’s the Pagori we’re looking for. During her human life, Diane worked in a brothel.”
“As a keeper?” asked Stuart.
“No, as a prostitute.” Sam gave a faint smile at the shocked faces staring at her.
Jared draped a possessive arm over the back of her chair. “Originally, Diane came from a prestigious family in Long Island. She ran away from home when she was a teenager. Considering her father was charged fifteen years later for sexually abusing his niece, it’s not such a stretch to conclude that Diane left home because her father had been doing the same to her.”
“She was an easy target for pimps,” I pointed out sadly.
Jared nodded. “This particular pimp was known for using emotional manipulation rather than violence as a way to recruit and control his employees.”
“You can picture it now, can’t you?” said Sam. “Here we have this lost girl who’s been exploited, is all alone, and feels unloved. Some bloke comes along, tells her she’s beautiful and pretends to care for her, making her the focus of his superficial charm. The pimp then makes himself the centre of her world, isolating her from others by convincing her that he’s the only person who cares for her. He shelters her, feeds her, seduces her, and makes her totally dependent on him. Which only makes it easier for him to take control when he says, ‘Hey, it wasn’t all for free; now you owe me money and you’ll have to work for me to pay me back’. Diane was a prostitute in his brothel –”
“Wait a minute, she was a victim of this shit, and yet she opened a brothel of her own?” Damien’s voice rang with both disgust and bafflement.
“It’s sadly not uncommon for prostitutes to attempt to recruit other prostitutes,” Chico told him. His human years on the police force had probably taught him that.
“As for opening her own brothel…” Sam shrugged. “It could have been her way to reclaim the control she lost when she was exploited this way. The reversal of roles means she seized the power, isn’t a victim anymore.”
“And it’s probably a little bit of that ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’,” said Denny.
“She’s angry at men.” When everyone looked at me questioningly, I went on, “She lures her clients, who are mostly men, with this unique brothel, records their deeds, and holds it over their heads by blackmailing them – punishing them with what they’ve done. The people she forced to work there…they were just pawns to her.”
Sam cocked her head as several emotions flitted across her face. “You’re right. This wasn’t about making money or trafficking. The brothel was just something that enabled her to punish the type of men she believes wronged her all her life.”
“It would even explain why she owned the fight club.” Jared rubbed his nape. “A primary result for the men – even the winners – was pain. By owning that club, she was the bringer of it, in a sense.”
“It’s looking like this Diane Glass is in fact the owner,” said David.
“Please tell me the researchers have an address.” Butch sounded eager to exact some retribution.
“Actually, they have two addresses.” Sam’s words made the entire squad smile. I felt the air change and lighten with anticipation and eagerness. Both emotions fairly radiated off Salem – typical.
“She has an apartment in Manhattan and a house in the South of France. We’ll hit France, and one of the other squads will visit –” Sam paused as the door swung open and Evan entered, closing it behind him.
He held up a hand. “Sorry, but I knew you were having a meeting about the brothel, and I figured you’d all be interested in this.” He took a seat before continuing. “My squad and I managed to track down one of the suppliers. The son of a bitch was already dead – nothing but a pile of ashes.”
“Do you think Diane got to him first?” asked Reuben. “Cleaning house, so to speak?”
Evan sighed. “I don’t know. But some of the clients were found dead too. Get this: all of them, just like the supplier, had some kind of red powder mixed in with their ashes.”
I gasped. “Demons.”
All heads whipped round to face me, but it was Salem who spoke. “What?”
“All demons are impervious to fire, but some can actually create and manipulate it. From what my friend told me, some exceedingly powerful demons can call on the flames of hell, though it’s extremely rare. Ashes left behind from hell’s flames are said to contain a red residue.”
“And Knox Thorne is rumoured to be extremely powerful,” mused Jared.
“He is,” said Salem. “I could feel it at the hotel.”
Sam nodded. “Me too. I also got the feeling he was trying to conceal just how much power lives inside him. But why would he do that?”
I shrugged. “Only he can answer that.”
“And you’ve got no idea at all what kind of demon he could be?”
I shook my head. “It’s possible that he’s an incubus, since his sexual allure is off the charts.” I smiled at Salem’s growl.
“Whatever the case,” rumbled Salem, “it seems like the demons are on the right track.”
“That’s definitely not good.” Chico cursed. “God knows what the supplier told him before they killed him.”
Max skimmed a hand over his military haircut. “Like finding everyone responsible for this shit won’t be hard enough without racing against the demons.”
“Yep.” Sam shrugged. “But if the situation was reversed and one of mine had been kidnapped and forced to work in a brothel, I would do everything in my power to avenge them.”