“I know Trish. She’s a sweetheart.”
Drew nodded. “I think Wade’s just lookin’ for someone to talk to after all the shit he’s been through. So no. No jealousy there. And, Jason…” he tried to go on, but just laughed.
“What?” Taylor grinned.
“Jason…oh, man, that fool. Taylor, you aren’t the only one who’s been…” He gave up trying to talk and laughed more.
“What? Tell me!” Taylor said, nudging his leg with her foot.
“He went home with two of those blonde Britney girls from the party.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. “Jason did?”
“Yeah,” Drew nodded. “He came over and plopped down on the couch just like you did like he was still in shock. I guess those girls are freaky. He’s all blown away, his hickeys haven’t all faded yet, and he’s getting texts from both of ‘em like crazy. An’ his parents found out like immediately. I guess one of ‘em slipped her panties in his pocket an’ they fell out when he got home an’ his parents flipped the fuck out. So he drops all that on me, and then finally we’re cool and shit, and then you come over an’ plop down on the couch, and I’m just like, ‘Oh, what the fuck now,’ know what I mean?”
The thought gave Taylor a good laugh. “Wow, I saw those two. They were hot.”
“No shit. He showed me a couple of the pics they sent him. Nothin’ nude, but freaky.”
Her eyes went wide with interest. “Did he share them?”
“No, but I bet if I asked him,” Drew suggested, reaching for his phone. As he did, it went off with the chorus of “Pretty Fly for a White Guy.” “Oh, hey, speak of the devil,” he chuckled. Drew flipped the phone open. “Yo’ momma so dumb she-” he fell silent as Jason barked at him. Then his face grew serious.
“What is it?” Taylor asked.
“Someone just grabbed Alex,” Drew scowled. “Maybe Lorelei, too. Jason’s following ‘em.”
“Oh shit,” Taylor gasped. “Wait. Did he see them? Were they all dressed in black?”
Jason heard her over the phone. Drew listened and told her, “Yeah, said they all looked like a costume party for emo kids.”
“They’re probably vampires,” Taylor thought aloud. “Dammit.”
Drew blinked. “What?”
“We gotta get after him!”
“We’re on it. Jason’s following. We can’t exactly call the cops for this. We’re gonna call Wade and get him-”
“We’ll call him on the way,” Taylor said, already up and grabbing her jacket.
“Wait, on the way? What? You’re coming, too?”
“Last I checked, you don’t have a car.”
* * *
Lorelei smelled him the moment the heavy door opened. The unmistakable ashen scent awakened crushing fear and despair. She didn’t look up at him. She didn’t want to look up at him.
Shadows of multiple people moved across the bare concrete floor. The short length of the chains connecting her wrists and neck to the floor prevented her from standing. A metal muzzle had been fastened around her head with heavy leather straps. Her black nightgown was tattered and torn, stained with dirt, ash and a great deal of her own blood.
Lorelei leaned over to sit with the side of one cut and bruised thigh against the floor. She would not kneel before Baal.
Lights went on in the room of nearly featureless concrete. “Well. Isn’t this a sight,” mused a voice Lorelei had hoped to never hear again. A man’s hand reached down to grab Lorelei’s chin. It pulled up with strength that she could not effectively resist. She stared up into the smoky eyes and ashen breath of Baal and his current host body.
“My people were advised to do everything possible to break her short of maiming her,” explained a calm voice with an English accent.
“What a lovely room,” Lydia said in appreciation. “It’s positively medieval.” Other metal fixtures imbedded in the concrete sat ready to anchor the chains of prisoners, but only one was in use besides Lorelei’s. Near one wall sat a woman, similarly chained but lacking a muzzle. She wore faded jeans, hiking boots and a flannel shirt. Her brown hair hung limply to her shoulders. The woman was perhaps pretty but for the fact that she clearly hadn’t been allowed to bathe for days. “Who is that?” the succubus asked.
“A local matter,” Damien answered. “It is the Lady’s business. She isn’t to be harmed. If you require us to remove her, we shall.”
“No harm,” Lydia mused, “but no reason to keep her from seeing these unspeakable things?”
“It’s not as if we have an abundance of rooms like this here in Washington,” Damien replied dryly. “When and if she is eventually released, it will be good for her to carry back to her family her impression of how we deal with our problems in the Lady’s lands.”
“I see,” Lydia said. She smiled at the woman, who stared back at her balefully. The prisoner seemed to be perhaps in her mid-twenties. “And clearly so does she.”
Baal ignored all of this. He reached out to stroke Lorelei’s hair, which she resisted. The demon lord smiled. “Lydia told me you were in much worse shape than this,” he said with feigned concern. “Well, perhaps not in the immediate sense,” he corrected, glancing at the blood on his hand and smearing it lewdly on her nightgown. “But she said you had sustained far worse injuries than these. You’ve obviously been working…but not for Belial anymore.”
Lorelei glared at him, but was unable to do much more. Her eyes then turned away.
“How long has it been, Lorelei?” Baal asked. “Fifteen hundred years at least? A very long time since you were on your knees for me.”
“If I might be so bold,” spoke up a new voice, “how does a succubus leave the service of a mighty duke such as yourself?”
“You are bold, Lord Stefan,” Baal grinned, still looking at Lorelei. “I’ll not bore you with the politics of the Pit, but it was just that: politics. I traded Lorelei to end an annoying dispute with a demon lord.
“I’m sure he took his frustrations out on you, didn’t he, my sweet?” Baal said to Lorelei, who still did not look at him. “Perhaps that’s why you made such efforts here in the mortal realm. The better you did up here, the less reason to call you back to the Pit to perform directly for your master. I’ll be pleased to have you back in my service. That will allow Lydia to remain in the mortal realm. You can stay in my domain and keep me entertained.”
Lorelei didn’t bother to hide her disgust or her hate. She made no noise, but the change in her eyes was clear. She would sooner face the wrath of every angel in Jerusalem than serve Baal.
A phone buzzed. “Yes?” Damien asked. He listened silently. “Excellent. Thank you.” Then he turned to Baal. “Our people have Carlisle. They are on the way here with him. It should be roughly twenty minutes. One of Lord Stefan’s associates and one of our best soldiers have remained to clean up any evidence.”
“You used to be better about hiding your emotions,” Baal said to Lorelei as her eyes clamped shut. “Lord Stefan, please have your people enact the warding of these premises as soon as Carlisle arrives. How long will your specialist need?”
“Once Carlisle is here? An hour, perhaps two at the most.”
“Time enough to amuse yourself, Lydia?”
“My master is too kind,” Lydia answered. “Lord Blackthorne, when he arrives, could you have him put on the table there? With those lovely restraints?”
“This would suit our needs as well,” Stefan added.
“It will be arranged, madam. Lord Stefan.”
“Splendid,” Lydia smiled. “Thank you.”
“Have someone come down and clean Lorelei up, too,” Baal said. “I wouldn’t want her to attend Lady Anastacia’s party upstairs in such a state.”
“It will be done,” Blackthorne consented, stepping away to relay commands to guards near the door.
As he did, Stefan and Lydia exchanged a meaningful glance. “Do your work well,” she said softly, “and we will settle the issue of whose celebration this is before Baal takes his leave. None will doubt who has his final favor.”
* * *