Daemon’s Mark by Caitlin Kittredge (web ebook reader .TXT) 📕

the face. How dare he take the high road with me, after what he’d put me through? It wasn’t my fault he’d gotten the daemon bite and it wasn’t my fault he couldn’t be cured. The only chance of that had sunk to the bottom of Siren Bay in order to save Nocturne City from being obliterated by Seamus O’Halloran, and if he expected me to be sorry for that, he could Hex himself.

“Here you are,” Kirov said, looking between us. I took the gun out of his grasp, a Walther, the little James Bond gun, powerful and compact.

“Thanks,” I told Kirov. To Dmitri, I said, “Come on, Grumpy. Let’s go get your daughter.”

CHAPTER 18

We went into the hotel the same way we’d gone out—through the service door. This time, though, I wasn’t halfstarved and disoriented. I was alert, armed, and angry.

“We need to find the office where they keep their business records,” I said.

“You really expect a place like this to have records?” Dmitri muttered. “Optimistic, I think.”

“Trust me,” I said, easing down the hallway, every sense open for anyone who’d object to our presence. “Pimps are even more compulsive about their money than witches are about their spell books. Pimps and witches— forget it. They’ll have records of every cent that’s ever come in and out. Coded, of course, but it’ll be there.”

“And we break the code how?”

“I’m thinking we hold Grigorii Belikov’s head in a toilet until he gives it up. Work for you?”

“Sure does,” Dmitri said.

The service elevator was a dank metal box, and my heart thudded as it levered us to the top floor. “There’s one more thing,” I said. “Once we get the information we need, we have to let these girls out of here.”

Dmitri snorted. “Now who’s the white knight?”

“I mean it,” I said. “If we don’t help these women, my involvement ends here. I’m going to the airport and getting on the first plane back to LAX.”

“Fine, fine,” Dmitri muttered. “Just stay focused. I don’t want them to know we’re here until it’s absolutely necessary.”

The doors rolled back and we came face to face with Peter.

“Too late for that,” I said. I yanked the Walther out of my belt and held it in his weasel face. “Surprised, comrade?”

Peter’s eyes darted toward the girls’ suites and I pulled the hammer down. “Don’t run. Don’t yell. Be a good little gangster and maybe I won’t shoot both your kneecaps off purely for what you put me and those other four girls through. Maybe. ”

Usually, when I was with Dmitri, I relied on him to be the heavy. He enjoyed it, and it meant I took less damage over the course of whatever stupid adventure we had gotten ourselves involved in. I’m not such a feminist that I can’t let a guy do the heavy lifting.

But not this time. Peter had fucked with me and he was about to learn exactly how bad of an idea it was. “Turn around,” I said. “Hands behind your head.”

Peter did as he was told, to his credit, with only a sigh of regret. “Any cameras between here and Grigorii’s office?” I said. He grunted, shaking his head no.

“Then march, motherfucker. Double time.” Peter shuffled ahead of me and Dmitri brought up the rear, his face reading surprise. I ignored him. He’d never seen me get really good and pissed off before, but he was about to.

I can be a real bitch when someone hurts me where I live. Screw with me or my family and all bets are off. I may act like a cop, I may act like a were. You pay your money and you take your chances.

“What will you do?” Peter said. “No way you get out of here again.”

“Not the plan,” I said. “And incidentally…” I drove my foot into the back of his knee hard enough to pop tendons. “Did I say you could talk?”

Peter fell through a door into an office that had once belonged to the manger of the complex—the old paintings and certificates were still on the walls. He rolled, moaning, clutching at the joint. I aimed the pistol between his eyes. “Dmitri, give him the phone.”

Dmitri did as he was told, and I held the receiver next to Peter’s ear. “Call Grigorii and tell him to come up to the office pronto. You say anything else and I’ll blow your brains all over this ugly carpet. Any questions?”

Tears ran down Peter’s face, but he punched in a number and spoke into the phone. I looked to Dmitri, who nodded that the thug wasn’t talking out of turn. A gun in the face is powerful motivation for a human.

Now I just had to figure out what would work on Grigorii.

Peter cut off the connection. “He said he’ll be right up. What are you going to do to me?”

I shrugged. “That’s up to the father of a girl you kidnapped and sold.” I stepped back, sticking the Walther into my waistband. Dmitri stepped in and leaned over Peter, his fangs growing and his features rippling toward were. Redbacks could phase with or without the moon, and I hoped that we weren’t about to be treated to an allyou-can-chew mobster buffet. Blood is hard to clean out of clothing.

Peter started sniffling and shivering, pure panic overtaking him. I heard footsteps outside, smelled that cool non-smell of ice in winter. “Dmitri,” I said, positioning myself in the line of sight for anyone coming through the door.

“Damn,” Dmitri said. “I was so hoping we’d get some alone time, asshole. This will have to do.” He hit Peter in the face and knocked him out. “Sweet dreams.”

Dmitri put himself behind the door, and we waited, for a few mile-long heartbeats. Grigorii was speaking to someone, and I recognized the high voice.

“This is your fault, you know,” Ekaterina snapped. “If you hadn’t been so enamored of that werewolf trash, she never would have played your emotions like a cheap violin and we wouldn’t be wasting