Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei Read online

  Both of them seemed nonplussed with Mercy’s forthrightness.

  “Matt Hawkins,” I said to them. So far, no sign of Erin and Ivan hadn’t followed me in.

  “Mr Hawkins.” Brad held my hand with desperate strength. “I’m happy you’ve agreed to help us.”

  “Yes,” Chris said softly. “Anything you can do would be appreciated.”

  “Matt, please, and like I told Ivan, I’ll do my best, but if I turn out to not be suited to the job, I will back out without hesitation.”

  They both nodded. Mercy stopped by my side to show me a picture of Ivan and Brad kissing in front of Luna Park in Melbourne. She frowned at it then looked at me askance.

  “Put it back, Mercy,” I whispered.

  “But they’re two men.”

  “So?”

  She frowned, at me, not the picture. “You only think about kissing girls, not boys. Does that mean there’s something wrong with you?”

  Dear God. I could feel Brad and Chris staring at us.

  “Just put it back.”

  She muttered something and returned the photo to the bookshelf. Brain damage was looking to be a good explanation.

  I’d considered, for all of about two seconds, leaving her at home. But if this was some sort of shape changing deal, she would be able to sniff out any supernatural influence easier and quicker than I could. If this Chris turned out to be something whacky, this case could be solved tonight.

  With that in mind, I sent a question down the private line to Mercy.

  “What do you sense about Chris?”

  Mercy’s silent hiss tickled my brain. “He smells like garlic.”

  I couldn’t smell anything but Mercy’s senses were sharper than mine. “Yeah, but what can you sense about him?”

  “Nothing but garlic.”

  As much as Mercy didn’t like garlic, it was a good result. At least Chris was good old human.

  Ivan and Erin came in. Ivan carried a tray of drinks and Erin a plate of biscuits. She very carefully didn’t look me in the eyes, but the moment she saw Mercy, she turned a stunned glare on me. I just shrugged.

  We settled down. Mercy tried to perch on the arm of my chair and I pushed her off. Lightning reflexes saw her land on her feet without a wobble. She snarled at me and dropped cross legged to the floor. The three men watched it all with politely curious expressions. Erin hid her face behind a weary hand.

  “She’s on medication,” I explained, patting Mercy’s head. “I can’t leave her alone when she’s like this.”

  “Sister?” Chris asked hopefully.

  “Ah, not really. More like a cousin. Her family didn’t want her so I ended up with her.”

  Mercy sent me a snippy little slap down the psychic link. I ignored it.

  “What a sad story.” Chris smiled at her. Then he twitched in his seat and dug around in a pocket. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered as he pulled out a mobile phone. Glancing at the number, he added, “It’s Rufus. I have to take it.” Chris hurried out of the room, phone pressed to his ear. “I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed. Yes, at Brad’s. We’re talking to the man Ivan thinks can help us...” His voice faded as he moved off down the hall.

  “Rufus?” I asked the room in general.

  “His son,” Brad answered. “Not Gerry’s, though. Rufus is from a previous relationship. Chris and Merryl were young when she got pregnant. They kept putting off the wedding, though. Until Rufus was born, until they had enough money. Then Merryl’s car was hit head on by a truck. Rufus was seven. Merryl died instantly and Rufus suffered third degree burns.”

  “Poor kid,” Ivan said.

  “Jesus,” I whispered. “And now this.”

  Ivan was about to say something more when Chris returned.

  “I don’t know, Rufus. I’ll be home when I get there. And no I’m not going to see if Brad has the new Grand Theft Auto game. You’re grounded, remember? That means no games.” There was a short pause and Chris lowered his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Rufus, we’re not going to argue about this now. I’ll be home when I get home. Goodnight.” He hung up and pulled in a long breath.

  “Trouble?” Brad asked.

  Chris sighed. “Nothing unusual for a teenager, I guess. I found him smoking weed and he doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong with that. But, he’s not the issue tonight.” He sat down. “Shall we start?”

  “That’s up to you, Chris.” I left it open for him to start wherever he wanted.

  “It happened last Thursday,” he began, looking at his hands as they dangled between his knees. “She’d been contracted to do some troubleshooting work for Geotech. They’re a soil testing company and they do some geological surveying as well. They’d been having some issues with the calibrations on a laser they use to work out something in soil and rock or something. I don’t really understand it. She does… did very little contract work anymore. A couple of years back, she developed this means of directing a laser that cut out a lot of power wastage. I’m not sure on the specifics. I never could follow her when she spoke about her work.” He gave a little, tired laugh. “That’s why we ended up separating.”

  “You were separated at the time of the murder?”

  “Yeah. Had been for about four months. We still spoke a lot, though. A real lot. When we could talk about anything other than her work, that is.”

  “She was dedicated?”

  Chris smiled. “All physicists are. A lazy one doesn’t get very far, or much work. They’re all constantly striving for research positions and publishing papers. It doesn’t leave much time for family.”

  “We used to be very close when we were younger,” Brad said. “She almost raised me. But when she really got into her studies and then her doctorate, she didn’t visit very often at all.”

  “You said she hadn’t been taking much work lately,” I said to Chris. “Why’s that if it’s such a cut throat field?”

  “The process she’d developed to direct lasers,” he said patiently. “She sold it for fifteen million dollars.”

  “Whoa.” My thoughts took the track most travelled. “Were you separated when she got the money?”

  “No.” He knew where I was going. “That was two years ago. We didn’t know what to do with that much money. Some of it went to charity and cancer research. The rest, about nine million, went into a trust in Gerry’s name. We thought about living off the interest, doing some travelling, but she’s not that sort of person. She’s always thinking, always solving problems. She gave up the work with lasers and shifted back more fully into mathematics. I’d thought the money would give us a chance to get to know each other again. We’d been working full time for our entire marriage and the talk of kids had been forgotten. I just wanted to spend some time with her, but she couldn’t stop. Eventually, I gave up and went back to work as well. It didn’t take long for me to realise I meant less to her than her research, so I walked out. She didn’t miss me for three days.”

  I winced. “That’s tough. I hate to ask, but where’s the money now?”

  “In the trust fund still. It’s been frozen for the duration of the investigation. There’s only about five million left though. Gerry started going through it a while back.”

  “I’m hoping she bought big houses, fast cars and sexy yachts.”

  He smiled at my poor attempt at humour. “No. I don’t know what she did with it.”

  Mercy heaved a mightily bored sigh and flopped onto her back. She told me down the private line to wake her when something fun happened.

  “And once the funds are released?” I asked as if nothing had happened.

  “It comes to me,” Chris admitted. “Motive number one. Greed.”

  Unless he was a freakin’ ace actor, I didn’t believe he was that consumed with money to off his wife for it. The sense I was getting off him was purely grief and fear.

  “You were at work the night of the murder,” I said to him.

  “I wasn’t sup
posed to be, but a couple of the guys were sick so I was called in.”

  “We can assume that whoever did this didn’t know you had been called in. If they disguised themselves as you, they would have thought you wouldn’t have an alibi.” I glanced at Erin. “And the authorities have checked out everyone at Geotech?”

  “All clean,” Erin said. “And no motive. She was there to help them fix a vital part of their machinery. Killing her would have been counterproductive.”

  “Did she finish her work with them before she died?”

  Chris shook his head. “Nowhere near done. They still needed her.”

  “Courey mentioned self-funded research,” Erin said.

  “Who’s Courey?” I asked.

  “Miles Courey,” Ivan answered. “Detective. He likes Erin so he sneaks her out information.”

  Erin gave him a mild look of reproach. “He doesn’t sneak me information. He just tells me what he can.”

  I was more interested in the ‘likes’ part, but banished the thought. “Chris? Any idea what it was?”

  “No. I knew she was back into the heavy maths, though.”

  It almost sounded like the maths was a form of recreational drug. And perhaps it was for her. I’ve been down that dark path—drug addition, not work addiction. My stint on morphine hadn’t been too dangerous—fairly easily fixed with a few nasty threats from a canny doctor. The relapse in prison had nearly killed me though. Had Geraldine’s addiction gone so far it got her killed?

  “There were no signs of her research at the house,” Erin said. “Could she have been doing it elsewhere?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Any thoughts on what she’d need for this research?” I asked him.

  “Several computers, phone lines, notebook. It was all theoretical.”

  “So she could have been doing it at the local library?”

  “I don’t think so,” Chris said seriously. “Not unless the library has got hold of some pretty powerful computers. She would do some massive calculations on them that would eat up all the memory for days on end.”

  More than your average high school grade algebra then.

  “Whatever this personal research was, could it have been reason for someone in the same field to want her dead?” Erin asked.

  Chris looked a bit worried. “I guess so. I used to call her Pandora and joke about her opening boxes that might be dangerous. If Gerry had made progress where someone else hadn’t, they might get annoyed enough to do something about it.”

  “Which means they would have stolen her research.”

  “There was no break in at the house, though,” Chris said.

  “I don’t think she was keeping it there,” I muttered.

  Chris and Brad looked at me sceptically. “What makes you so sure?” Chris asked.

  “I’m not. Just a hunch.” I looked to Erin. “The cops have followed any paper trails?”

  She nodded. “Nothing. She wasn’t renting anywhere, hadn’t bought anything that might house her research. It was a blank.”

  “Receipts for the money from the trust fund?”

  “She withdrew it in hundred thousand lots. The receipts they have don’t add up to the whole amount. It’s about three million short.”

  I let out a long breath. “Okay, final avenue of questioning. The murderer’s escape from the lab where she was killed.”

  Ivan shot to the edge of his seat. “This is what made me think of you, Matt. It just seemed so impossible.”

  “Everything’s impossible until it isn’t. Will I be able to get into the lab?”

  Erin nodded. “I should be able to set it up with Courey. You’ll have to deal with me, though. He won’t let you go in on your own.”

  “Fine. It’ll have to be a night time visit,” I reminded her.

  Lips pursed, she didn’t look at Mercy and nodded.

  “Why night time?” Brad asked.

  “I have another job at the moment. I’ll be pretty busy with it tomorrow. After that, I should be free to work full time on your case.”

  Things wrapped up pretty quick. Chris and Brad thanked me all over again and Ivan explained the concept of fake flowers to Mercy. Don’t ask me how they got onto the topic, but it was weird enough for me to usher her out the door ASAP.

  Erin came out with us and even got into the same elevator.

  “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat earlier,” she said.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I’m sure I deserved it.”

  Mercy gave me a like-there’s-any-doubt look.

  Erin stared at her, then at me. “I’m here to help them, not you. Just so we’re clear.”

  “As crystal.”

  A couple of floors went by in tense silence, then she muttered, “Thank you for helping Ivan and Brad.”

  Another couple floors, then I said, “I’m still a bit surprised he came to me over you.”

  Man, she looked haggard. There were deep hollows under her eyes, she seemed to have lost weight and her auburn hair was dull and straight.

  “I’m his friend,” she said. “I understand why he didn’t come to me. If something turns up that reflects badly on Chris or Brad, then at least I won’t have the chore of telling him.”

  Made sense. I should have thought it through before shooting my mouth off in her office.

  “What’s the other job you have?” Erin asked.

  “Ghost,” Mercy said. “Poltergeist.”

  Well, she seemed to be over her jealousy. For how long, I didn’t know. Being in the confined space with Erin was working against my cool. I could taste her aura—sweet melon and heady Moscato mixed with dark chocolate and bitter coffee beans. Though it was extra heavy on the sharp chocolate this time. Wonder what that meant.

  “Interesting,” Erin said.

  Even though her tone was flat, there was a spark of interest in her. I hid a smile. She didn’t deny ‘my world’ as much as she wanted to.

  I felt it a split second before Mercy tensed. A sensation that was completely unknown but at the same time, rooted somewhere deep inside Mercy like a long forgotten instinct suddenly awoken. It blazed up blindingly bright, wiping away every pretence at civilization Mercy had learned. Like a freight train it hit me through the link and that primal, savage part of my psyche I tried so hard to bury answered the challenge with a painful, needful roar.

  For a good part of my life, a berserker rage had been my greatest enemy. An anger so intense it emptied my head of anything but the desire to inflict pain. It had seen me in prison for a year and it had seen me nearly returned there several times.

  The darkness behind my tightly shut eyes tinged red in an instant. I could hear Mercy snarling, felt it like an accompanying rhythm to the beat of my berserker madness.

  Erin.

  A distant, screaming part of my barely functioning brain threw the name at me.

  A flood of images and emotions rode the wave of unthinking violence. Erin staring me down, like a predator, a competitor, a challenger; Erin, scared and angry, pointing a gun at me, screaming at me to get away; Erin, bruised and beaten, telling me to leave her behind, to survive.

  Her taste was all over me, sweet and dark and dangerous, trapped in the small, tight confines of the elevator.

  A light snapped on in the darkness. I could see her, in shades of silver and red, reflected a thousand times over, pushed back into the corner of the elevator, shoulders shuddering against the slick, polished metal surface. Her gun was in both hands, shifting back and forth between me and Mercy, uncertain of who the greater threat was.

  She was tired and weary, easy prey. A flick of my wrist and her gun wouldn’t be a problem. A silent command to Mercy and I wouldn’t have to worry about the gun at all.

  But she wasn’t the reason. No, there was something else, something bigger.

  That realisation cleared my head faster than anything else could have. The red haze dropped away and the too white light of the elevator bit into my eyes.
r />   “Merce,” I snapped as I shielded my eyes. “Quit it. Stand down.”

  Mercy growled and fought my command. The wild, vampire impulse to hunt and kill that was usually buried as deep as my berserker tendencies wasn’t as willing to be put aside. She only ever got this bad when she was hungry and I knew that wasn’t the case this time. This wasn’t internal. It was about as external as it could get.

  Something was here. Something that pushed all of Mercy’s buttons like a naughty child let loose in a button factory. Something vaguely… familiar.

  “Matt?” Erin was cautious, still holding her gun ready, but pointing it more at Mercy than at me.

  “I’m fine,” I said, not taking my gaze off Mercy. “Mercy. De-vamp. Now!” Old habits die about as hard as some movie franchises and despite Mercy’s progress, I still carried a pen-needle of tranquiliser. My hand began to reach for it in the pocket of my jeans.

  Mercy saw it. Red lips peeled back from glistening white fangs. She vibrated with the battle to both resist and obey me. The dark thing inside me tried to break free again, moving in unsettling, sharp ways.

  I was losing.

  I hadn’t lost a battle of wills with Mercy in a long time.

  Ding.

  We’d hit ground floor.

  I lost the battle and Mercy just lost it.

  Chapter 9

  The doors pulled back and Mercy, a blurred, snarling whirlwind, tore out of the elevator and arrowed for the angel waiting in the foyer.

  Wait. Angel?

  Well, I mean, it sure looked like an angel. Tall, golden skinned, feathery wing span close on twelve feet wide. And it was certainly my idea of an angel—very Amazonian and wearing little more than a scrap of material around her waist.

  “What the hell?” Erin muttered as vampire and angel clashed.

  The doors swished shut.

  “Shit.” I stabbed the door-open button while pulling my gun. Had no idea if it would be effective, but I was otherwise packing for vampire, and this was no vampire.

  Erin stabbed the door-closed button. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know.” I jabbed a finger onto the door-open button and kept it there.