Blighted Angels: Nic Ward, #7

By Z.J. Cannon

Fun with Nic and Jane

 

I keep women at a distance for a reason. Jane most of all. She thinks my life in the shadows is exciting and glamorous. I know better. If I let her get too close, my world will eat her alive.

 

But when her ex gets himself into the kind of trouble I specialize in solving, she's got nowhere else to turn. What am I supposed to do? Watch her get herself killed trying to save the guy on her own?

 

I've got no choice but to let her into my office. Doesn't mean I'm letting her into my life. Because I've got a bad feeling this is no ordinary demon problem. This smells like Heaven's work to me… and considering the well-deserved grudge that place has against me, by my side is the last place anyone should be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Z.J. Cannon
• Release date: Jul 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223969501

Book preview

Chapter 1

The whiskey in the half-empty bottle glinted darkly under the dim yellow bulb of my desk lamp. I sat back in my chair, locked in a staring contest with the thick amber liquid. I was trying to decide whether to take that first drink—the first drink that would lead to the next, and the next.

Although I didn’t know whether it counted as a decision to be made, when I already knew what I would choose.

Except for the lamp perched on the edge of my desk, my building was dark. Everyone else had gone home for the night. I was the only one who kept vampire hours. I wasn’t a vampire—although I knew one personally, and he was a pompous ass—but I kept to their schedule more often than not.

At least I could tell myself my drinking habits were more wholesome than theirs.

Through the wall, I could barely make out the faint shouting of someone in the former warehouse next door. The place was abandoned, but somehow it was never empty. I’d learned it was best not to pay attention to the noises in that place. Down the street, the obnoxious alarm attached to some neighbor’s new car was screaming again.

I rubbed my temples. The sound of the alarm made me need a drink. Otherwise I’d never get to sleep, not with that thing wailing all night like a fussy baby.

Maybe that was a good enough excuse to do what I already knew I was going to do.

I didn’t normally like drinking during working hours. And for someone in my line of work, the middle of the night counts as working hours more often than not. But when I had a difficult job, or a client I knew I wasn’t going to be able to help, I broke out the whiskey.

The thing was, I didn’t have a difficult job right now. Or any clients at all—not for the past three days. There was the perennial stress of unpaid bills—that always made a good excuse. And the ache in my bad leg, which had been acting up again lately. But those were both thin excuses, and I knew it.

I chuckled softly to myself. Who was I kidding? Maybe I used to dislike drinking during working hours. But that hadn’t been true for a good long while.

I kept up my staring contest with the bottle for another few seconds. I blinked first, and picked it up. The reassuring weight settled into my palms like a well-used weapon.

You win again, I murmured, and tipped the bottle to my lips.

Down by my feet, my dog grumbled his displeasure. I shot a weary look down at him. I didn’t have to look down very far. Even lying down, Sparky’s head came up almost to my knees these days. That’s the thing about adopting a cute little hellhound puppy—hellhounds don’t stay little for long.

Don’t you start, dog, I said.

Sparky rose slowly to his feet, grumbling all the way. He stuck his watermelon-sized head on my lap and nosed the bottle hard.

There wasn’t an ounce of puppy love in the hellhound’s eyes. The two of us didn’t have that kind of relationship—not since he had come out of the puppy phase, at least. He saved all his love and kisses for Juliana, my ex-Inquisitor muscle with a deeply buried soft side she reserved for Sparky and Sparky alone.

But Sparky cared about me all the same. He just showed it in a different way. He loved on Juliana whenever he got the chance—but me, he protected… whether I wanted him to or not. And whether he was taking it upon himself to stand between me and an angry demon, or between me and my own inner demons.

Sparky nosed the bottle again, more insistently this time. The liquid sloshed against the sides.

I leaned in conspiratorially. There’s a bone in it for you if you keep this between you and me.

Sparky sat back on his haunches and considered it, head tilted to one side. Then he settled back in at my feet with a judgmental huff.

I tilted the bottle up again—and just then, I heard a soft ding from out front. That was the bell over the front door, which meant someone had just walked in. It was late for a prospective client, but not unheard of. The people who require my services often don’t want people seeing where they’re going, which means avoiding broad daylight.

I set the bottle down, not sure if I was frustrated at the interruption or secretly grateful.

Nic? came a high, birdlike voice from the other side of my office door. Nic Ward? A pause. Do I have the right address?

I sat up straight, the bottle forgotten.

That was Jane. Jane from the Jarvis PD, who could pull any information out of the police databases in five seconds flat. Most days, that meant looking up license plate numbers. But a couple times, I’d come to her for something more exotic.

You’re asleep, aren’t you? she said with a faint sigh. Of course you are. I knew I shouldn’t have waited until the middle of the night. Stupid. What was I thinking?

I’d like to say we had a history, Jane and me. In a different world, it could have been that way. In this one, though, all we had was a couple of brief meetings that could have been the start of something.

In a different world. If I were a different man.

I crossed the room and flung open the door. She jumped. When she saw me, her delicate face flushed with relief.

So you are here, she said. I’m sorry for getting here so late. But I… I think I need your help. Her hands fluttered nervously at her sides. At least I hope you can help me. Because I don’t know where else to turn.

Chapter 2

I took her coat, got her a glass of water, and settled her into my client chair. I did my best to make her feel comfortable, although my dim and cluttered office isn’t the best place to go if comfort is what you want. I took a quick look around, trying to see the place through her eyes, and instantly regretted the client files strewn across the desk and the days-old dishes I hadn’t gotten around to rinsing off.

Not to mention the bottle of whiskey on the table.

But she didn’t seem to see any of it. I had a feeling if I’d had speakers piping in Vivaldi, and the soothing notes of woodsy perfume wafting through the room, she wouldn’t have taken that in either.

Jane was a hummingbird. It was the comparison that had come to mind when I first laid eyes on her, and it remained apt. Back then, it had been about the bright colors she wore, her slight and delicate frame, the cheerful energy she gave off every time she opened her mouth or made a slight gesture. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to subsist solely on sugar—and in jaw-dropping amounts.

Tonight, I could still see the hummingbird in her, underneath the drab brown coat she’d wrapped herself in. It was there in her wide and glistening eyes, and in the way she couldn’t seem to hold still. Her legs jiggled. Her fingers tapped out a rhythm on her thighs.

I sat behind the desk and watched her the way I watch any prospective client—out of the corner of my eye, all casual-like, studying her without letting on that I was studying her. But she felt my eyes on her. I knew it from the way her own eyes darted quickly to mine, and just as quickly away.

Her leg jiggled harder. I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me, she said, looking at a spot slightly past my left ear. You never called.

She’d given me her number the last time our paths had crossed. I’d thought about calling—thought about it for longer than I cared to admit. I carried around that candy wrapper with her number scribbled on it for a good long while. But the night was no place for a small, bright hummingbird. Not when there were far more dangerous birds of prey out there.

I meant to, I said, aware of how empty the words sounded. Things got busy. You know how it is.

It’s fine, she assured me hastily. Really. I never meant anything by it, anyway. I just gave you my number in case you needed more help with that case you were working on. If you didn’t need help, then you must have figured it out on your own, and that’s good. She was talking too fast. Her eyes flitted around like they couldn’t find a place to land.

I wanted to tell her how close I’d come to calling her, and not for help with any case. But opening that can of worms wouldn’t bring either of us anything good.

What brings you here so late? I asked instead.

I’m sorry about that, she said. About how late it is, I mean. I was pacing back and forth in my kitchen for hours, trying to decide whether to come to you. By the time I decided, it was later than I thought. She stared down at her lap. I’m still not sure I should be bothering you with this. You’re a security consultant, right? And this isn’t really a security issue. I don’t know if you’ll even… Her words trailed off.

Believe you? I finished for her.

Her head snapped up.

What she had said was true—on paper, I was a personal security consultant. That was what I told the cops whenever they came knocking. As far as they knew, I spent my days sitting behind this desk and handing out advice to people about how to keep themselves safe. Following through on that advice was up to them.

In reality, my line of work was a fair bit more unusual.

Then it’s true? she asked. What I’ve heard about you?

That depends. What did you hear?

The drumbeat of her fingers grew frantic. She cleared her throat and made a noncommittal noise.

I decided to make things easy on her. You’re in danger, I guessed. The kind the police wouldn’t know how to deal with. The kind they’d call you crazy for even mentioning.

A full-body wave of relief flowed through her, enough to still her nervous movements for a good few seconds. Not me, she said. My ex.

It made no sense, the wave of hot jealousy that rushed through me at that word. I had no business caring about who Jane had been with and when. Not when there had never been anything between us but a brief flicker of possibility.

I leaned back in my chair and laced my hands behind my head. Tell me.

Reggie got scammed by some business partner of his, said Jane. That’s what he told me. He came to me asking if I could use my police connections to track the guy down. Apparently, this guy stole from him—whether it was money or something else, I don’t know. He was vague on the details. I don’t know if he was just embarrassed that someone pulled the wool over his eyes, or…

Or something was going on with this Reggie that he didn’t want Jane knowing about. I’m guessing there’s more than a case of theft here, I said. Or you wouldn’t be worried about how the police would react.

I told him I couldn’t do him any special favors, not without more information. He could have been involved in something illegal, something that could land me in hot water if my bosses ever found out. We argued. Her fingers drummed faster again. Or we started to argue. We never got very far, because he started having some kind of fit. Muttering to himself, twitching with these weird little jerks. Grabbing his own wrist, slapping himself. He punched himself in the chest.

Did he hurt you?

She shook her head. Just himself. I think he came out of it with a few bruises, though. I wanted to stop him, but I didn’t know what to do. And then, right when I started taking out my phone to call an ambulance… it was over. He blinked a few times and picked up the argument right where we’d left off. Like nothing had happened.

Have you talked to him since then?

Jane shook her head. That’s part of why I’m here. I called him the next morning, just to check in. I wanted to make sure he was okay. He didn’t answer. So I went around to his place. No one was home. I called up a few of his friends. No one knows where he is. His work number goes straight to voicemail.

Does he have a history of mental illness? I asked. A lot of people want to jump to supernatural explanations first thing, but the truth is, most demons that come into people’s lives are of the mundane variety.

She answered with another shake of her head. But that’s what I thought too, at first. That’s why I was going to call an ambulance. But just before he went back to normal, I looked into his eyes, and… Her gaze dropped to her lap.

And what? I asked quietly. You can’t spook a prospective client at a moment like this. You’ve got to give them a gentle nudge, and give them the space to find the words to talk about the things they know will make them sound crazy.

His eyes were on fire, Jane whispered. "I don’t mean he was angry. I mean his eyes were nothing but fire. The whites, the pupils, everything. And the room was hot. Like I’d turned the heat up to max all of a sudden."

She shot me a nervous glance from the corner of her eye. When I didn’t call her crazy, she sank into her chair with a long, shaky breath.

Can you help me? Her eyes found mine. Those bright hummingbird eyes.

I nodded. I can find him for you. And I can set him right.

It felt good, saying those words. It felt like the first long swig of whiskey—that deceptively gentle warmth sinking into my bones, easing my pain even though I knew it would only make me hurt more in the long run. That small step further down a path I couldn’t help walking, even though I knew better.

Jane relaxed for a second. Then went tense all over again. How much? She felt for her purse. I don’t get paid much, and a lot of it goes to my mom’s nursing home. But if you don’t need it all at once, I can work something out.

I thought about how much we’d been hurting for clients lately. I thought about all the bills we were behind on, all the red ink in the ledger.

You’ve done me a few favors, these past few months, I said, before I could think better of it. Consider this a favor in kind.

The light glinted off the bottle of whiskey, catching my eye. It held no allure for me tonight—not anymore. I already knew that after she left, I would go upstairs to bed without taking that first drink. I felt plenty drunk already without it.

I only hoped the hangover wouldn’t hit too hard.

Chapter 3

I woke up with the same warm glow. I didn’t even mind Sparky’s cold nose nudging me awake, or the sharp tingle of burning sparks flying off his fur and onto my face. That was a bad sign, right there. The longer the good feelings last, the worse the crash when it comes.

I spent most of the day catching up on loose ends. I called up a woman I’d done a job for a few weeks back, to make sure she and her kid—the kid I’d pulled from a demon’s jaws—were still doing all right and hadn’t crossed paths with any more creatures from Hell. Then I got in touch with a few contacts of mine to get word on a demon I’d crossed paths with last month—I wanted to know if he was following through on his promise to stay on the straight and narrow. Then I called up an old client from three months ago who still hadn’t paid the remainder of his bill. Normally Father Keller handled that sort of thing, but sometimes his teddy-bear warmth didn’t help loosen delinquent clients’ checkbooks as much as the sound of my voice could.

I scared people for some reason. Maybe it was something about what I used to be. The whiff of Hell still hung about me. The human suit didn’t fit quite right around the eyes and in the cadence of my voice, and it set people on edge.

Well—most people. Not all.

I thought about Jane. I wanted a drink.

I had other reasons to catch up on old business besides trying to solve our cash flow problem, although hopefully that would be a side effect. Staying in here meant I didn’t have to cross paths with Father Keller, who spent his workdays out at the reception desk, handling the paperwork and the people. The man was good company, but he was also insightful. Sometimes, insightful isn’t what you want.

But even though I had the bad habit of ignoring my human body’s needs, there’s only so often you can tell your stomach to wait before it stages a full rebellion. The same holds true for the bladder. Eventually, when the sun started creeping toward the horizon, both of mine had had enough. I reluctantly pushed myself up from my chair, rubbed the ache out of my bad leg, and ducked out the door into the front room.

And ran smack into Juliana, who was headed for the front door with guilt written all over her face.

Nic! She smoothed nonexistent wrinkles out of her oilskin coat. I thought you were out. I haven’t seen you all day.

She pulled her coat tight around her body, like she was hiding something.

I was in my office. What’s going on?

Nothing. Just… work. You know. Her eyes darted toward the front door.

Work? For all the clients we don’t have?

"I mean I don’t have any work. So I thought I’d knock off early. If that’s all right with you." She glanced down at her watch.

You got somewhere to be?

Her head jerked up with a guilty start. What? No. I mean, yes, but… it’s not important. I have to go. With that eloquent explanation, she bolted for the door.

I watched the front door rattle on its hinges as she slammed it behind her, and wondered if I should go after her. The last time Juliana started sneaking out, all secretive like that, it was because she was taking out her anger at me on half the demons of the city. Better them than me, but she got herself into some bad situations that way—plus, we weren’t getting paid for all that extracurricular work of hers.

But we had worked all that out between us. She didn’t have any extra anger to work off anymore—well, not more than she usually carried around with her. Plus, she’d promised me she was done with all that, and when Juliana made a promise, she kept it.

And in exchange, I’d made a deal not to pry into her personal business.

Father Keller was sitting at his desk, frowning down at the latest stack of unpaid bills. For someone who had so much to say about her extracurricular activities last time around, he seemed remarkably unconcerned.

You think we should worry? I asked.

Father Keller glanced up from his work. Only if you can’t pull in an exceedingly wealthy client in the next… oh, two weeks or so.

Because if there’s one thing this part of town has in abundance, it’s people with money to burn. Sounds like we should get used to living on ramen. I nodded to the front door. "But I was talking about Juliana. You think she’s