Unholy Pleasures (Half-breed Series Book 4) Read online

  Huh. Good thing those smaller farms were okay since they wouldn’t have the money to hire an elf. I had no idea what Hallwyn was making, but I assumed as an expert and as a member of a race that was probably about to be in high demand, she was getting upper management wages.

  “Anyway, gotta run.” He squeezed my hand. “Tomorrow lunch? Or after work?”

  Yeah. This was the problem when I fed at work. I really had no interest in further sexual encounters with most of my conquests, but I had to work with Matthieu, and he was offering to get me into this shindig in Italy, and he was a fun guy to screw. Normally I would have let him down easy and pretended to have my period or something, but this time I was intrigued enough to want to meet up with him again.

  “After work. Unless I’m in the field or they have something else for me to do.”

  He took that as a yes and headed off to the relief of the tour woman. I walked back to my trailer and thought about what Matthieu had said. Big operations were having these problems. Were they more susceptible because of the use of hybrid plants and pesticides? It couldn’t be a biodiversity issue since even small farms tended produce high-demand varieties and those where high yields maximized profits.

  I couldn’t miss the convenient fact that the businesses affected had the funds to hire an elf, and all of them had. The pestilence demon had said she wasn’t to blame and maybe she wasn’t, but she still could have been indirectly responsible. Had someone asked her to curse the fields? The only ones who seemed to be coming out ahead in this were the elves. But the one at Boone Valley was on the edge of losing her job, and Hallwyn would have most likely been sacked already if I hadn’t been healing the plants myself. If they’d been savvy enough to pay a pestilence demon to bring them a form of job security, then they should have been savvy enough to bargain with her for a way out. Diseased crops. An elf gets hired. The elf heals everything and saves the day. No more Elf Island. They’d be supporting themselves and assisting the humans, just as the angels demanded they do. It might not be an ideal job, but it got the angels off their backs and, no doubt, made them a lot of money.

  I eyed the acres of vines, rows of green in the early evening sun, and thought that Matthieu’s continued attentions weren’t the only reason I needed to get back into the field. I needed to heal a few vines…and I also needed to make a phone call.

  Chapter 17

  “Sam? It’s Amber.”

  I was tromping through the fields, doing a sweep to see what rows I could heal and not end up with two pissed off plague demons on my head. This whole thing was bothering me. Why were two demons so determined to grind Napa Valley beneath their heels? I know plague and pestilence was what they did, but I hadn’t heard of such a determined effort since the Dark Ages. There had to be something else going on. Were the demons being paid to hit this area hard, and make sure it didn’t recover?

  If this had to do with Magical Interventions, if the placement company was using the plague demons to drive a need for elven employees, then why didn’t the demons stop once the elves were hired? This had to be something else, something unrelated.

  And what was up with Magical Interventions? Were the elves going behind the angel’s backs to get off the island as quickly as possible? Was some greed demon looking to make a quick fortune as a placement company? Or a greedy human?

  I was at a dead end unless I could find why Apixt and Txipa were involved and what was going on with the elven job placements. And no one blew through dead ends like the imp who held the sword of the Iblis.

  “Hey. Make it fast because I’m trying to time this anvil-dropping thing just right. What’s terminal velocity with our gravity outside of Hel?”

  Oh sheesh. “No idea. Hey, I need a favor.”

  “Ask Harkel. Or Irix. I’m busy. There’s a roadrunner I need to squish.”

  I ignored that. “I’m pretty sure that someone is infesting crops in a scheme to get elves employed at large-scale commercial agribusinesses and off Elf Island.”

  There was a scraping noise. A pause. Sam shouting “Fuck!” into the phone.

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah. Damned motherfucking bird. What about the elves? None of them should be off the island yet. Asshole-angel promised me they’d be on some five-year indoctrination schedule.”

  “One is working at my vineyard. And the other two vineyards down the street. And the big vegetable farm in central California as well as three orchards. That’s just this state. I’m sure there are a ton of them dancing around wheat fields in Iowa and cattle ranches in Texas as we speak. There’s someone who is doing placement services between the angels running Elf Island and the human world. I think he, or she, is artificially creating a need then providing elven employees at a premium, if you know what I mean.”

  She was silent a moment and I heard more scraping noises.

  “Sam? You there?”

  “Yeah. I missed the roadrunner, but there’s a Benz SUV that I think I can hit if I hurry.

  Was I a bad person that I wasn’t terribly concerned about the Benz? It wasn’t like Sam had a particularly good aim—with a gun, or arrows, or anvils.

  “Another thing—Apixt is hanging around here along with her sister Txipa. They’re infesting humans and commercial farms and vineyards in Napa Valley. One of them hit me over the head the other day because I was healing one of the vines they’d infected. Txipa threatened me with worse if I didn’t stop messing with her work and healing plants at the vineyard.”

  “Fuck! Is this cliff two hundred feet or one eighty up from the road? I can’t fucking tell. So what do you want me to do? Kill Apixt and Txipa? Kill the elves? Because I can’t even seem to kill a fucking bird right now.”

  Oh for crying out loud. Dealing with her was like dealing with a two-year-old on a sugar high.

  “Can you find out who on Elf Island in in charge of job placement? And who their contact is—the one who lets them know about human opportunities and coordinates getting elves their jobs and getting them settled in? And get Apixt and her sister to back off. Ideally I’d like them to leave the area, but at a minimum can you convince them to stay out of DiMarche? And not assault me again?”

  “That’s a lot of work. I’m trying to kill a roadrunner here, or at the very least an SUV with two adults and three kids. What you’re asking of me is a significant favor.”

  Roadrunner and SUV full of people aside, I’d learned this was a common way of bargaining with demons. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. It will take you one phone call to get the information, and possibly two more to get the plague demons off my back. That’s not significant. And need I remind you that the job in Libertytown turned out to involve far more than some minor crop modifications. If you expect me to expand that deal to include repeated visits every six months or so, then I certainly need more than just immunity for Irix.”

  “Hey, that was a big favor, far greater in value than fixing some carrots and potatoes in Hel. If anything, you owe me.”

  I rolled my eyes even though no one could see me. “Bullshit. I know the angels have a war going on, Sam. Hunting down demons this side of the gates is pretty low on their priority list right now. If two plague demons could cross the gates and wander around Napa Valley doing their thing, then no angel is going to bother with a sex demon getting it on and occasionally repairing his injuries. Even so, with who you’re fucking, it probably took you all of five seconds to get that deal. You got Irix clearance to cross the gates when Leethu asked. His immunity was a minor favor. I’ve provided a significant favor, and am continuing to provide one. So don’t give me any shit about how this request puts you out or inconveniences you at all, especially if you’re dicking around throwing anvils at birds and luxury SUVs.”

  “Damn girl, you’re a hard-ass. Okay, here’s the deal. I find all that info out and put in a firmly worded request for Apixt and Txipa to vacate the area. You continue to assist the humans in Hel whenever necessary, plus provide a case of wine from that place you’re
working. Make sure it’s the good shit because angels like wine and I want some for Asshole’s born-day party. Oh, and you need to make that seven-layer bean dip again. And the family-recipe red velvet cake that Wyatt likes.”

  “I’ll agree to that as long as you also provide an additional favor to me that I can redeem at a later date and time of my choosing.”

  “Agreed as long as the favor does not conflict with any previously made vow or agreement.”

  Standard terms and conditions. Gah, I was beginning to sound just like a demon. And considering I didn’t even know they existed until a few years ago, that was surprising.

  “Deal. And Sam, this is a priority. It won’t do me any good if I find this stuff out five years from now.”

  “Fine. Fine. A day or two max. Now let me go so I can set up the next anvil. There’s a bunch of dudes on Harleys coming down the road. I’m bound to at least nail one of them.”

  I hung up, less concerned about the safety of the guys on Harleys than what would happen to Sam if she actually managed to hit one of them with the anvil. Standing in the vineyard, I found myself literally at a crossroads. Should I try to heal one of the vines, or go back to the trailer? I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to decide. I’d been attacked at night, so Irix would be worried if I got back late. As much as I hated to turn my back on the vineyard, I knew what I had to do. Go home. Eat dinner. Spend some quality time with my man.

  But in the morning… I glanced back over my shoulder at the leaves stirring in the evening breeze.In the morning I’d come out early, and heal a few vines before work.

  And hopefully no one, including the two plague demons, would notice.

  Chapter 18

  The next morning I got to the vineyard just after sunup. Looking around, I pulled out my sheet of paper and a pen and got to work. One. I’d heal one vine then go to the winery for my shift. Or maybe two vines. Two tops. I’d be careful that there was no plague demon around to see me doing it, and if Txipa or Apixt confronted me, I’d lie and say it was Hallwyn who’d cured the plant of its disease. After yesterday, I didn’t really care if they whacked the elf in the back of the head or not.

  I’d done most of the easier stuff before I’d been assaulted, which left the challenging diseases like black measles and Phomopsis. That was what brought me back to that vine in row eight. The sight made me nearly cry.

  “Oh poor, baby.” I ran my fingers over the brown and black spots on the stems and fruit, touching the yellowed, wilted leaves. I could feel the rot without even trying to go beyond the surface of the plant. “Does no one love you? The sprays aren’t working. That elf is useless. You’ve given up, haven’t you, sweetie? Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

  I should have given up on this vine and moved on to the ones that weren’t as affected, but I just couldn’t condemn it to die. And die it would. If it didn’t improve, Jorge would have it dug up and incinerated in the next few days.

  “This is gonna hurt,” I muttered. Then I put my hands on the vines and sent myself into them, pulling every bit of disease from the plant to myself. It was a lot and I felt on the verge of either exploding or heaving my internal organs out onto the ground when I’d finished.

  Well, finished, but not finished. By the time I managed to destroy the disease I’d just sucked into myself, I was feeling weak and dizzy. But I couldn’t leave the vine damaged like this and open to a new disease, so I pulled up whatever reserves of energy I had, drawing from the bonds with Irix and Harkel, and managed to heal the plant before dropping to my knees in the dirt.

  “What are you?”

  I twisted around, still on my knees, and nearly toppled over. It was Hallwyn. She was staring at me open-mouthed. My heart galloped, thinking I was as good as dead, then I noticed the streaks of tears on her perfect, pale face.

  “You’re here early,” I accused, hoping to avoid her question.

  “What are you? That wasn’t human magic. It wasn’t demon magic.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where did you learn to do elven magic? How did you learn to do elven magic? Of the thousands of human slaves that we’ve had in Wythyn, the tens of thousands of slaves throughout all the elven kingdoms, none of them has ever been able to do our magic.”

  “How could you tell? It’s not like your glowy-hands crap is doing any good. Why are you here this early? There’s no one to impress with your pseudo-magic.”

  Her face reddened. “Insolent pig. I’m an elf. I have true magic. And I’m here early trying to get ahead of things. There are so many problems in this vineyard that it will take me more than an eight-hour day to fix them.”

  “Especially when you’re not fixing them,” I couldn’t help but retort. “It doesn’t matter how much time you spend here, how early you come in, it’s not going to make a difference. I don’t know what your family did in Hel, but it sure wasn’t gardening. You couldn’t revive a wilted daisy.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Well, you don’t seem to have that problem. Jorge was going to have that vine dug up this morning but now it’s the picture of health.” She took a step toward me. “I saw you. I saw what you did. How did you do that? What are you?”

  Hopefully I’d inherited the ability to lie from my demon side, because I was about to tell a whopper. “I’m a human. I just happen to have a talent in healing plants. Every now and then there is a human born who can lay-on hands and heal a person, or heal disease in plants and animals. Every now and then there is a human born who can divine the future, command the elements, astral project. We can’t let our skills be widely known for our own protection, but that doesn’t mean we don’t do what we can to make the world a better place.”

  “I’ve never known a human who has these skills. Never. I’m hundreds of years old. We had many human slaves in Hel, and none of them had these types of skills. They might have talents that allowed us to train them in some forms of magic, but none were gifted like this. Your skills are just like those the elves have.”

  “So what I do is similar to elves? Huh. And as for why you’ve never seen a human with these skills before, well maybe you were just kidnapping the wrong humans.” I couldn’t help but be snarky. Every time I thought of what Nyalla went through, what those humans in Libertytown went through, I got a bit pissed off.

  “Do it again,” she urged. The look in her eyes worried me. She didn’t appear to have any weaponry, but I knew elves could do fireballs and other stuff. Although if Hallwyn was as skilled at fighting as she was at healing, I wouldn’t have to worry.

  “I can’t,” I told her in all honesty. “That was a really bad case of Phomopsis and I’m worn out. I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything else today. And by anything, I mean I might not even be able to stay awake to do my job.”

  “Do it again or I’ll kill you,” she said.

  I tamped down my fear and lifted my chin. “Right, because nothing is going to get your ass sent back to Elf Island quicker than killing a co-worker. In fact, you’ll probably find yourself tossed through the gates of Hel.”

  She paled at my words. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you have some natural healing ability. Do it again so I can watch.”

  Watch and possibly detect that my magic was identical to what the elves did? No way.

  “You don’t believe me? So you think plant fairies came down from the sky and healed this plant? Or maybe that I’ve bargained my soul away to a demon so I could heal a bunch of vines? Or the Monsanto gods have chosen to bestow their favors upon this vineyard?”

  “There is a demi-god here named Monsanto?” She looked around as if she expected some leaf-bedecked dude to spring from the ground. “And plant fairies? I hate this place! I hate it!”

  And then she began to cry, making me feel like a total jerk. Although, to be fair, she had been threatening to kill me. Still, I couldn’t stand to see her cry, so I went over and almost hugged her, at the last moment thinking she might not be the touchy-feely type and instead just patting her
on the shoulder.

  “No, there are no plant fairies. I made that up. And it’s not so bad here. Just give it a chance.”

  “I don’t want to give it a chance, I want to go home,” she wailed. “But there is no more home. We’ve abandoned Hel, and there’s no place for us here, and the angels on Elf Island make us eat all sorts of terrible food, and wear gloves and coat our bodies with this nasty gel so we don’t get burned if we accidently touch something metal.”

  I squinted at her. “I thought that was some kind of greasy sunscreen. Ick. But the food here is pretty good, and so is the wine. Did you get a chance to try that 2011 Estate Merlot? Oh, of course you didn’t because then you would have had to get naked with Matthieu and I doubt you’d be up for that.”

  She shuddered. “There is no way I would ever lower myself to such a thing. And the food…the fruits and vegetables all taste strange. The wine tastes strange. Even the water tastes strange. I work all day and barely have enough to pay for enough food to survive and that horrible dwelling I’ve been assigned to. I’m now the slave, being forced to do whatever my human master demands or be sent back to that horrible island.”

  Oh, the drama. “Yeah, well welcome to paradise. It’s not that bad. Jorge is really nice. He’s a good boss. And from what I’m told you’re making about three times what most of us make, if not more. Didn’t those angels teach you how to budget your money? What the heck are you spending it all on, glitter and rainbows?”

  “It’s not…I mean, Jorge is rather nice for a human. Actually everyone has been kind, although I hear them talk about me. I have very good hearing, and I know they don’t like me, but they are always respectful and provide the assistance I need to do my job.”

  There was clearly something she wasn’t saying. “Then what’s wrong? Why are you acting like you’re some kind of indentured servant forced to eat Ramen and drink from the toilet?”