Unholy Pleasures (Half-breed Series Book 4) Page 13

  “Anytime. If you’d like to see the larger production site or have a private tasting…?”

  “Tuesday night? I finish work around four.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be here. Whites or Reds?”

  I waved one of the bottles in my hand. “Today was all about the whites, so let’s try some reds.”

  “Perfect. See you then.” Sean took off and I paid for the wine, motioning for Irix to follow me out to the car.

  It seemed like Santor Winery was having the same issues as Boone Valley and DiMarche, and the manager there had the same doubts about the effectiveness of their elf. Something or someone was causing these diseases in the crops of large commercial farms, orchards, and vineyards. And that someone’s motivation seemed to get the elves jobs.

  But these elves weren’t going to have jobs for long if they were getting blocked at every turn. I thought again of the vine, rotted and ripped from the ground, crushed in an act that seemed full of anger. I thought of the attack on me, pretty sure that I’d find that particular vine dead when I returned to work tomorrow.

  “Any handle on either plague demon?” I asked Irix as he handed me an ice cream cone. We’d stopped in town at a little roadside Mr. Frosty, which served the dual purpose of satisfying my sweet tooth and nosing around for any signs of the demons. According to Irix, they would leave a fairly obvious trail of destruction in their wake.

  “Yep. But I’ll wait until you’re done with your ice cream before I fill you in on the details. No sense in turning your stomach.”

  I took a lick of my ice cream cone. “Tell me.” I’d been dealing with some truly disgusting plant diseases and pests in the last few weeks. Nothing could be grosser than borer larvae or bunch rot.

  “Shigella.”

  I blinked. “In a vineyard?”

  “No, silly.” Irix shook his head. “In a restaurant.”

  Yeah, I was totally put off my ice cream. I might not ever eat again. Shigella was a feces-born bacterium. Dysentery. Projectile pooping. Dehydration. But as horrible as the symptoms were, they didn’t come close to the repulsiveness of the way it was transmitted. Somebody didn’t wash their hands after wiping their bum and then went and touched food. Since it had been traced to a restaurant, that someone was most likely a kitchen employee.

  I eyed my ice cream, shot a quick narrowed glance at the Mr. Frosty, and dumped it in the trash can.

  “Disgusting, but this happens with food service occasionally. What makes you think this is one of the plague demons?”

  “Because it happened in three different restaurants in the last twenty-four hours and every one had a new employee who matched Apixt’s and Txipa’s description.” Irix grinned, taking a huge bite out of his ice cream. Clearly the thought of explosive diarrhea didn’t bother him one bit. “That guy over there? He’s an imp and not thrilled with the idea of a plague demon, or in this case plague demons, in his territory.”

  What the fuck? Were there demons everywhere right now? Was Harkel right when he’d mentioned that the angels’ distraction meant the time was right for demons to flood across the gateways?

  “So where do we find her? Either one? I’m assuming by the time the dysentery is reported, they’re long gone.”

  Irix grinned. “My bud Lektian over there would truly love some assistance. He doesn’t mind sex demons or warmongers, but as an imp running an ice cream shop, he isn’t happy about plague demons nearby. We help run Apixt and her sister out of town, and he owes us a favor.”

  I was suddenly glad my ice cream was in the trash. “An imp running an ice cream shop? An imp?”

  Irix shrugged. “The Iblis is a slum lord. Demons gotta work. I’m sure he’s got some scheme going on off-hours, or maybe there’s something in the ice cream.” He eyed his intently. “Possibly drugs. Is pot ice cream a thing?”

  After he finished, Irix drove us into town, parking outside of a vegan café. “Don’t eat anything,” he warned as we walked in.

  I had no intention of eating anything, possibly ever again. It was horrifying to think that a plague demon was right now running his feces-laden fingers over all the arugula and bean sprouts.

  Irix scanned the room. One of the waiters froze, glaring at the incubus, then turning that frown my way.

  “Get out,” he snarled.

  “We were thinking of ordering a healthy salad, but that’s not likely with you here, Txipa.” Irix looked down at the plate in the plague demon’s hands. “Nice job, by the way. Very skillfully done. I can’t even tell you’ve contaminated it with my eyes alone.”

  Txipa looked like a human woman—a woman so thin her skin was stretched across her bones giving her a mummified look. Her skin was sallow and chalky, her hair dry and lank, the color of straw. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose red and dripping. I couldn’t believe the management here had hired her. She looked like she should be in a hospital, not waiting tables. A few of the patrons turned to stare at the three of us as if they were noticing Txipa for the first time. One put a twenty on the table and scurried out the door.

  “Get. Out. I backed off your hunting ground. You back off mine.” Txipa put the plate down at an empty table and poked a finger at me. “And you…you’re lucky to be alive. We were here first. I’m willing to share territory with a few sex demons, but not one who is deliberately messing with our work.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why DiMarche? Do you have something against the management?”

  She snorted, then spat into the plate of greens. “I don’t even know their management. Girl, we’re plague demons. This is what we do. I’m willing to step aside and not infect prey in specific hunting grounds as professional courtesy, and I expect you to do the same.”

  This was ridiculous. All I wanted to do was save my vineyard, but I couldn’t do that without admitting to my half-elf side. A succubus shouldn’t care about grape vines. By demon standards of behavior, Txipa and her sister were being extremely courteous and accommodating.

  “Can you just leave the one vineyard alone?” I pleaded, hating that I was most likely dooming the others.

  “Uh, no. Why the fuck do you care? Go screw some humans next to the rotting vines. It will be extra romantic. We do our thing. You do your thing. Lektian runs his ice cream stand, and maybe if the three of us come to an agreement, we don’t rub our filthy hands all over the cones.”

  “Push too hard and the angels will come,” Irix warned. “And then we’re all screwed. You and Apixt have been focusing your efforts in this area for too long. You can’t whither and infect every person, animal, and plant within a fifty-mile radius and not expect the angels to notice.”

  “If you haven’t figured it out yet, fuck-boy, the angels are busy. They’ve got a war going on. There’s the whole Elf Island thing. And for some reason, most of them are wandering around here among the humans looking as if they were hit with a stun gun. I could probably walk up to one right now and hit him over the head with a cow turd and he wouldn’t notice.”

  She was right. And that put a sick feeling in my stomach. “Please?” I begged. “Just the one vineyard. That’s all I ask.”

  “No. Go fuck in a vineyard on the east coast if that’s your kink of the day. We’re busy here. And stop messing with our work, or next time we’ll do more than split your head open.”

  Irix shot out a hand and grabbed Txipa’s arm. “Threaten her again and I’ll be the one splitting your skull.”

  She laughed, giving me a disgusting view of black and rotted teeth. Irix’s hand grew white and withered where it touched her skin. “I’ve heard you’re a good fuck, Irix, and I don’t like to kill sex demons, but if you don’t take your hand off me, you’ll be an exception.”

  There was a tense moment where I wasn’t sure whether Irix would comply or fight. A few more customers bolted from the café, leaving us alone with a scared member of the kitchen staff peering around the swinging half-doors.

  Irix let go of the plague demon. “I’m asking you kindly to discont
inue your work at DiMarche vineyard, but I’m telling you to leave Amber alone. It won’t be just me you’ll be facing if you harm her again, it will be Harkel. He’s taken an interest in her, even presented her with a breeding contract. He’s this side of the gates, and would be quite angry if something were to happen to his succubus.”

  Txipa waved Irix’s threats away with a sneer, but I noticed how the plague demon’s already pale skin had become chalk white. “Harkel and I respect each other’s work. If this little bitch means so much to him, then he needs to rein her in and tell her to keep her hands off what my sister and I have claimed.”

  Irix shot me a quick warning glance, then reached out with his non-withered hand to grip my arm. “We’ve given you the courtesy of coming to discuss this in person instead of assaulting you. Amber and I will continue to work as we see fit. Both you and your sister don’t have an exclusive claim on DiMarche. If you don’t want your work interfered with, then I suggest you spread your diseases elsewhere.”

  He spun me around and practically dragged me from the café before Txipa could respond, stuffing me into the passenger seat of the BMW and squealing the tires as we left.

  “The nerve of her,” I fumed. “If they want to throw down some black measles, then fine, but they don’t have the right to assault me or prohibit me from trying to fix those vines.”

  “They do.” Irix’s hands were tight on the steering wheel. “Amber, you’re a sex demon in their eyes. They feel what you’re doing is an insult toward them. Let Hallwyn heal the vines. Let your human co-workers spray their fungicides. Finish your internship at DiMarche, but leave the infected plants alone.”

  “You’re joking. Irix, healing plants is part of who I am.”

  “Then heal plants somewhere else.” He pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and put the car in park before turning to me. “You’re walking on the edge of a cliff here, Amber. There’s a warmonger who needs to continue to believe you’re a full succubus. There’s an elf working with you that needs to believe you’re a human. And now there are two plague demons who need to see you as a full succubus. I know you’re a half-elf and that part of you isn’t going to be easy to deny, but deny it you must. Work your internship. Fuck some humans. Grow your relationship with Harkel. Just put the plant stuff on hold until we get somewhere safer, somewhere you won’t end up being killed either by an elven co-worker or a pair of plague demons.”

  I ground my teeth and looked out the window. We’d pulled up beside a huge field of immature vines, barely tall enough to reach the first row of wire. Irix didn’t understand. What he was asking me to do…it was like asking me to stop breathing for a few months. My whole life, when I’d thought I was human, I’d still nourished plants. I’d had gardens, and orchids, and violets. I’d been the one who had revived the wilted begonias and eased the frostbite on the buds of our cherry blossoms. As a human I’d always thought I had two green thumbs. But now I was supposed to stand by and watch plants wither and die from a plague demon’s touch, watch while a stupid, arrogant, useless elf tried to heal them and failed.

  Irix was right. I understood the risks. I understood that I wasn’t strong enough to go up against two plague demons, that I wasn’t strong enough to face a bunch of elves who wanted me dead. But I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to deny what the elf inside me demanded I do.

  Chapter 14

  Irix drove into Rutherford and pulled up to a pool hall. I shot him a surprised look. “I thought we’d find swingers at somewhere more posh.”

  “Au contraire, my dear Amber. Swingers are everywhere. Ones at pool halls tend to be a little quicker to get into bed than five star restaurants.”

  Quicker worked for me. The conversation with the plague demon was still hanging over me, darkening my mood considerably. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I wasn’t in the mood for anything beyond going back to the trailer and curling up in bed, but I hated to end my day on such a bad note. Besides, I needed the energy, and this might be just the thing to pull me out of my gloom.

  We hopped out of the car and I followed Irix in. He grabbed my hand once we were in the door and pulled me close to him as we approached the bar, squeezing between two sets of couples. We ordered drinks, then Irix draped his arm around me, planting a lingering kiss on my lips.

  Thoughts of plague demons whacking me in the head, of the DiMarche vineyard a rotted wasteland, of elves who were no more than indentured servants faded away with his kiss. This was exactly what I needed. The crash of billiard balls echoed through the room, drowning out the hum of conversation and clink of glasses and bottles. A group of guys laughed over near the dart boards. A woman shouted, waving her pool cue in the air like a sword, high-fiving her partner. Irix’s hand slid from my waist to grip my ass and pull me against him, his forehead touching mine. Then his lips met mine once more, soft and full of promise.

  “Go to the bathroom,” he whispered against my mouth.

  I curled my fingers inside the waistband of his jeans as I pulled away from him, holding on as I walked away, letting go only when my arm had fully extended. I grinned back at him, and felt his eyes watching me as I walked off, putting an extra sway in my step. In the bathroom I went ahead and took care of business, smiling at the other two women who were touching up their make-up as I washed my hands. One of them said her good-byes while the other looked in the mirror and ran a hand over her smooth dark hair.

  “How long is the wait for a table?” I asked. “We’re new in town. My boyfriend and I were hoping to shoot some pool tonight.”

  The brunette turned to me, and I saw a glimmer of desire in her eyes. It wasn’t unusual. As much as most women liked to claim they were heterosexual, they often weren’t. Just because they had a preference didn’t mean there weren’t the few occasions where they met someone of the same sex they felt that pull of attraction toward.

  “It’s half an hour at least.” She hesitated, digging in her purse and pulling out a lipstick before giving me a bashful smile. “How good are you? We could play together, but I don’t really want to have a couple of sharks wipe the floor with us.”

  I laughed. “I’m lucky if I don’t scratch the felt. Irix is pretty good, but I’ll balance out his skill with my less-than-stellar talents.”

  “Irix? That’s a cool name. He’s not…” she squirmed, dropping her gaze before forcing it back up to meet mine. “He’s not that hot guy at the bar with the wavy dark hair and the light brown eyes, is he? That dude is like an Italian wet dream.”

  Yes, he was. “Is your boyfriend the blond with the short buzz cut? Military? Girl, you haven’t done so bad yourself. He’s a whole lot of muscle, there.”

  “That’s Austin.” She grinned. “He is hot, isn’t he?”

  Oh yes he was. “Absolutely.” I touched up my lipstick with a quick swipe. “If you don’t mind my horrible billiard skills, we’d love to share a table with you all.”

  “I’m Bridget.” She stuck out her hand.

  “I’m Amber.”

  “Let’s go see how Irix and Austin get along, then maybe we can shoot some pool.”

  I followed her out the door, knowing full well that Irix would get along with anyone that was a prospective sexual partner, male or female. And Austin might consider himself the most heterosexual man in the state of California, but with one sultry look from my beloved incubus, that was going to change.

  Sure enough, we walked out to find Irix next to Austin, the blond man laughing at something the incubus had said. This was promising. And from the anticipation practically vibrating from Bridget, I knew she was hoping the night ended well.

  I walked up and Irix slung an arm around my shoulder, giving me a melting kiss.

  “Amber, this is Austin. He and his girlfriend are up on holiday from San Diego.”

  “I met Bridget in the bathroom,” I confessed, giving Austin a warm, but not too warm, smile. “I’m doing an internship at DiMarche, Irix is visiting me from New Orleans.”

  “O
oo, New Orleans,” Bridget squealed, clapping her hands. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Maybe someday we can go for Mardi Gras.”

  Irix shook her hand. “You and Austin are welcome to visit us if you do. I have a place just off Lafayette Square. You can see the Mississippi River from my rooftop terrace.”

  The rooftop terrace where Irix and I had first made love. I caught my breath, involuntarily releasing a small curl of pheromones.

  “Hey, we’re up,” Austin announced as another couple moved away from one of the pool tables. We headed over and grabbed cues. I crushed a square of blue chalk against the tip because that’s what I’d seen other people do, then watched while the other three discussed what kind of game we were playing.

  The few times I’d played pool I’d been drunk off my ass or trying to get in some guy’s pants, so I hadn’t really paid attention to the rules. It seemed this time we were in teams, with Irix and me working the solids, and Austin and Bridget the stripes. We alternated shots, which meant Irix and I were probably going to lose.

  And that didn’t matter, because I got the feeling that no matter how the pool game turned out, we were all going to win.

  The game went as expected. Every ball Irix sank was followed up with me just bouncing them around the table. I sank one completely out of luck, but Austin and Bridget easily won. The next round we played guys against gals, and by the end of that round, there were quite a lot of empty beers stacked up on the side table. And the whole time we’d been flirting—me with Austin, Bridget with Irix, me and Bridget with each other. I saw Austin exchange what seemed like a knowing look with Irix while Bridget and I were laughing over some bad shot, her arm across my shoulder.

  “Austin and Amber against me and Bridget,” Irix suggested. “Then we probably need to call it a night before they have to roll us out of here.”

  The other couple seemed on board with that. In fact, they were eager to swap pool partners. Austin teased me about my terrible billiard skills and leaned over me, pressing himself against my ass as he tried to show me how to line up a shot. The whole time Bridget was busy giggling over Irix’s Mickey Mouse shirt.