Temping is Hell Read online

  “I know that letting Kate live was a setback. Get me in a room with Victor, and I’ll show you I can handle this.”

  “It’s more than just eliminating the power base, and you know it,” Yagi returned quietly. “It’s doing what a good man would be unwilling to do. The person you’re up against is one of the most vicious, brilliant men I’ve ever met. What’s more, he counts on the fact that others will have a conscience where he, himself, does not. When you hired me, you swore that you would do absolutely anything necessary to get your soul out of his clutches. Now, I need to know if you meant that, or if you simply don’t have the stomach for doing what needs to be done.”

  Thomas grimaced, waving a hand at a model who strutted by in what looked like a bloody Zebra print. “Not that one,” he called, and the model slunk back, past Yvonne, who was visibly arguing with Maggie. “You tell me, Yagi. You’ve seen my business deals. You’ve seen what I did to get here. I’ve cut deals with demons; I’ve tied up most of my fortune. I built the condos and this headquarters to your specifications. I’ve cut a deal with that asshole Al to dig contracts out of Hell itself. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

  Maggie strode back, her expression sharp as a dagger. “That… that woman is impossible,” she said, pulling out her iPhone and clicking on it. “I didn’t want to say anything, but really, I don’t think she’s going to work out. You should seriously consider replacing Yvonne.”

  Thomas ignored her, staying focused on Yagi. “I can’t do this without your help; I know that. But I’m not going to hurt innocents just to show you I’m serious, so come up with something else.”

  Maggie turned, about to say something to interrupt, when suddenly her eyes went wide. “What’s she doing here?”

  Thomas glanced over his shoulder. Kate was standing at the door to the conference room, looking tired and hesitant, two things he hadn’t seen in her before. She was wearing khaki slacks and a blue denim button-down shirt, her hair in its usual ponytail. She looked like a lost college intern. He motioned to her.

  Kate walked up slowly, then squared her jaw. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I was looking for you.”

  “Are you all right? After…” he paused. “You know.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m spiffy,” she muttered, then looked at Yagi. “Thank you for helping me.”

  Yagi didn’t spare her a glance, looking at his watch instead. “I was just following orders.”

  She winced, then turned with a determined look at Thomas. “So, where should I set up?”

  “Set up?” he echoed blankly.

  “For… you know, the job.” She frowned. “You did offer me a job, right?”

  He nodded, feeling a bubble of elation. “Yeah, I did.”

  “I’m sorry,” Yvonne yelled in a deep voice, with obvious pique. “Is my fashion show interfering with your coffee klatsch?”

  “Give me a minute, Yvonne,” Thomas called back. He looked at Kate, then over at Maggie. “Mags, take Kate up to the large corner office on the twenty-ninth floor, okay? Make sure she’s set up with security cards and everything.”

  Maggie flushed for a second, her eyes flashing, but she nodded curtly. “Of course, Thomas. You are the boss, after all.” Her voice was smooth, poisonously sweet. “Kate, honey, could you go wait in the hallway for a second? I just need to run something by Thomas here for a second.”

  “Sure.” Kate looked amused for a moment, then glanced back at Thomas. “I’d really love to talk to you, when you get a chance.”

  He could only imagine. “When I’m done with this, I’ll come look for you,” he promised.

  Kate went out in the hallway. When the door closed behind her, Maggie cleared her throat. “About my special projects—”

  “I don’t have time, Maggie,” Thomas said, cutting her off. “Yvonne’s already mad, and I have a million details and meetings to take care of. We can talk later.”

  “But Thomas…”

  “I don’t like this,” Yagi said. “We don’t even know how she holds power over the demons. She could be powerful. She’s definitely unpredictable.”

  “But she’s signed now,” Thomas argued. “That’s got to be useful, right?”

  “If you’ll learn to control her,” Yagi said. “Which would mean finally studying about your powers, instead of—”

  “I have an idea about how to catch that Victor guy,” Maggie interrupted, silencing them both.

  Thomas and Yagi stared at her. “You have an idea?” Yagi repeated.

  Maggie sniffed at his obvious derision. “Well, you didn’t get him, did you? And I haven’t heard you figuring out how to find the guy since, right?”

  “I don’t tell you everything,” Yagi said, sounding offended. “In fact, I don’t think you’re privy to any information regarding this man or the current status of his whereabouts.”

  “Well, I’ve been reading the private investigator reports,” she said, sounding smug. “I had them send over those extra copies, remember?”

  “I also remember we wouldn’t have needed extra copies if you hadn’t opened your mouth to Kate,” Thomas added, watching as Maggie’s expression fell. “I’m with Yagi on this one. You don’t need to know more about Victor.”

  Maggie’s back went straight as a yardstick. “I know you think I’m a complete idiot, Thomas,” she said, managing to sound injured. “But the report said that he’s a serial killer. He’s been killing people for years, but his parents have covered it up. I mean, he never was indicted.”

  “I know,” Thomas said, irritated. “I read the report, too.” And I saw what he did to Kate. He noticed his hand had clenched into a fist. He forced himself to relax.

  “I guess he killed a bunch of women in their twenties,” she continued. “And I couldn’t help but notice—all of them were redheads.”

  She whispered this like a dirty secret. Thomas waited for a second, as she stared at him expectantly. “So what?”

  “Hey, I know things. I watch CSI and Criminal Minds, stuff like that,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “They say serial killers have a victim type.”

  “Well, if Criminal Minds says so,” he drawled.

  She ignored his sarcasm. “And they say when a serial killer gets someone in his victim type, but he’s thwarted, then he’ll need to kill again even more badly.”

  Thomas glanced at Yagi, expecting to see the Asian’s clear impatience. Instead, Yagi was looking at Maggie with curious disbelief.

  “That’s actually not bad,” Yagi said. “I’ll check the morgues, see if any redheaded women have been murdered recently.”

  “That’s not all, though. I’ll bet he really, really wants to finish what he started. If you can’t find the guy,” Maggie said, “maybe… maybe you can have him come to you. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Thomas was still reeling over Yagi’s reluctant approval, and his mind couldn’t quite wrap around what she was saying. Apparently it was a good point, since Yagi was now nodding at her with something close to respect.

  “Like I said—I know you think I’m a complete idiot. But this is a special project I might actually be good at,” she said, her smile winter cold. “You think it over, okay?”

  With that, she walked out.

  “Well,” Thomas said. “That was unexpected.”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Maggie’s got a point,” Yagi mused. “If we could somehow flaunt Kate, show that she’s not only alive, she’s thriving, and she’s just within reach…”

  “What?” Thomas said, feeling like he was rapidly losing control of the conversation. “Kate? Why Kate?”

  “Kate was Victor’s prey,” Yagi said, enunciating clearly. “She escaped. She fits his profile. She’s tied to you, and I imagine that given his relationship with Cyril, he’s probably got something to prove. Kate is perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?” Thomas felt his stomach knot. “What are you saying?”

  “You said you’d prove you were ser
ious about this. So, do it,” he said. “Use Kate as bait.”

  …

  I need a game plan.

  Kate sat uncomfortably at the large glass desk, looking out at the Bay. She’d thought about staying away, but really, what was the point? She needed answers, and this was the only place she could think of to get any. Thomas appeared to need her, and he seemed genuinely sorry that he’d dragged her into this mess. He had technically saved her life, if damned her soul. Which was confusing enough to think about.

  She still needed to talk to Thomas, but he seemed to be the king of subject avoidance and that was going to take some time. She needed to talk to him about the job itself, besides, but Maggie hadn’t been clear on when or how that would happen. Now, she was hanging out like an underdressed corporate squatter in the cavernous office Maggie had angrily dumped her in, and waiting wasn’t exactly her strong suit.

  Admittedly, Kate had never paid too much attention to her mom’s lectures, but if her stoic mother had emphasized anything, it was that when a crisis strikes, do what you would have been doing anyway.

  So she went down to the basement.

  It occurred to her that the guys handled the contracts all the time. Maybe they’d signed their souls over, too, she thought. Of course, she seemed immune—so maybe they were, too? Maybe it wasn’t as weird as Nan Temper had made it seem.

  “Kate, you’re here,” Slim said, and she jumped, surprised out of her thoughts. “We heard that you had received a new job with Mr. Kestrel. The Overseer doubted you would return to us.”

  He sounded and looked happy to see her. She couldn’t help it; she smiled back. “How’s it going?”

  “We are down to the last name,” he said with a mixture of pride and sadness. “I think our contract assignment will close quite soon. I’m glad you came down before we had to go back.”

  Slim was a good guy. He’d always been nice to her. It suddenly occurred to Kate that he probably knew lots of stuff she didn’t.

  What’s more, he might not mind telling her.

  “I don’t suppose I can take you out for coffee, or anything. I bet you’d like Starbucks.”

  He blinked, his Adam’s apple bouncing like a fishing bobber. “No, no. Our contract is quite specific. We are limited to this building.”

  “This building, huh? So—could you go upstairs?”

  He stared, and she swore he started to sweat. “Ah… that’s probably not a good idea.”

  “But you could,” she pressed. If she was going to have this conversation, she didn’t want Al around, and to her knowledge the troll-like guy never left the basements if he could help it.

  Which brought up another question—what was Al, anyway?

  Slim swallowed hard, his expression a mix of wariness and interest. “I… Well, technically, I suppose I could.”

  “C’mon.” Kate was already beelining to the elevator before he could change his mind, dragging him along. She wondered briefly if he was claustrophobic, as he seemed to go paler when the elevator doors closed, but his fascination with the glowing floor number screen quickly distracted him.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t lunchtime or close to closing, so the lobby was relatively empty. He glanced out of the elevator like a scared rabbit.

  “Let’s go in here,” she said, pulling him across the floor and over to the lobby’s coffee shop. It was in the Fiendish building, so it was a step above the usual coffee shop that Kate was used to in most office buildings she’d temped at—but despite the décor, it was still a lunch dive. Marco, the café owner, grunted his usual hello.

  She grabbed two Yoo-hoos out of the fridge and plunked money on the counter. The tables were empty except for one of the guys from the mailroom, who was softly singing Bruce Springsteen to himself as he listened to his iPod at deafening levels. Marco got on the phone and started having a loud conversation in what sounded like Persian. Satisfied that it was as private as she could manage, Kate sat across the small table from Slim, who was staring around like a kid in FAO Schwarz. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

  “Hmmm?” He shook his head as she unscrewed the cap on his milk bottle. “Not really, no. When I get taken for contract work, I don’t tend to interact much with humans.”

  “Humans,” she repeated softly. “You don’t interact much with humans on your assignments.”

  “Well, considering,” he said. “Most demons are supposed to stay confined.”

  She goggled for a second before getting her shit together. “Demons. Right.” She paused. “Like the other guys in the basement, right?”

  “Contracted demons,” he agreed, nodding absently.

  I can’t believe he’s a demon. Kate struggled not to stare. They didn’t look markedly different—she didn’t know what a demon was supposed to look like, but she assumed they weren’t supposed to resemble guys who did mixed martial arts in octagon cages. Or maybe that made perfect sense. What the hell did she know from demons, anyway?

  I should ask Prue.

  Oh, right. Prue wasn’t talking to her.

  He finally noticed her quiet shock, and he grimaced. “You didn’t know, did you?” He sounded regretful. “Are you frightened? Should I… return to the basement?”

  “No! No. It shouldn’t be a problem. I mean, you’re not going to eat anyone, are you?” It hadn’t occurred to her that that was an option, not with Slim, anyway.

  He shot a quick glance at Marco and the mail guy, then shook his head again. “Well, no. You have managed to make sure we’re quite well fed, and even if I wasn’t—no.” He seemed amused. “But I have not known many humans who decide to speak to… my kind. Or risk exposing them to your kind, unless they deliberately wish to cause violence and mayhem.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, the question unsaid.

  “Nope. Not in the market for mayhem today,” she said, and he smiled. She bit her lip, trying to figure out where to start. “I just need information. I know what Thomas is up to, but I don’t understand why. And now that I’m signed, I feel like I need to know what I’m in for.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “That does make sense. I will tell you what I can. What sort of questions do you have?”

  She blinked, then took a swig of chocolate milk. “I hadn’t actually thought that far into it,” she admitted. “I didn’t even know I was coming in to work until this morning, and I didn’t know I was going to boost you until about five minutes ago. I’m kind of flying blind here, and you were the first pers—um, the first guy I could think of who might help.”

  He followed her example, taking a sip, then smiled appreciatively at the chocolate milk. “You are a good person,” he murmured. “I suppose you want to know what kind of demon I am, to start with.”

  “There are kinds?”

  He smiled. “Yes, Kate. There are kinds.”

  “Oh. Okay,” she said, feeling dumb. “So what kind are you? And why does that matter?”

  “I am an Ammonite demon,” he said, sipping at the milk. “All of us downstairs, your ‘Basement Boys,’ are. That means we aren’t tied.”

  “Tied? To what?” Kate wished she’d brought a notepad. This was bound to be complicated. Maybe she’d Google it when she got home.

  “Sorry, not tied. Affiliated. With a demon lord. We…” He closed his eyes, as if struggling. “We are not in the hierarchy. We are… I believe it’s called rogue.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “That’s a good thing, right? The term ‘demon lords’ sounds fairly nasty, so if you’re not in with that bunch, I assume you’re okay. Comparatively speaking.”

  He shook his head. “Many of us are rejects—seen as too weak to be used as anything but pawns in battle. Cattle fodder.”

  “Cannon, I think you mean,” she corrected. “And yikes. What wars?”

  “Demon Lords battle constantly in the underworld,” he said. “Every century, there is an Accounting. The Demon Lord with the most power crushes those who are lesser. The battles are…” He shuddered, and while he didn’t say anyt
hing, she noticed he looked nauseous.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, unsure of what else to say. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He tilted his head as he studied her. “You know where demons come from, do you not?”

  She shrugged. “I was guessing Hell?”

  He frowned. “So many of you know so little about what happened before,” he mused. “But it was a long time ago. Do you know of the war in Heaven?”

  “Yeah, that one I know.” She’d managed to retain that much before getting expelled from Catholic school. Twice. “Angels rebelled; Lucifer made a bid for the throne or something…”

  “Dark days.” Slim’s eyes were shadowed—literally, like a cloud going over the sun.

  “You were there?”

  He nodded. “I was one who chose poorly, yes. I listened to the rhetoric. I swelled with pride. And I resented the puny humans and their free will.” He looked at her, almost apologetically. “No offense.”

  “Hey, none taken. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.” And the guy probably had centuries in Hell to think that one over. If anything, she’d probably be pretty bitter if she were him, so the fact that he was able to be somewhat positive about the whole thing was encouraging.

  “But once we were cast down, we duplicated the choirs, re-established a hierarchy—and fought each other. And it has been…” He shuddered. “Pray you never know the extent of those horrors, Kate.”

  She swallowed hard, pushing the chocolate milk away and wishing she’d picked a more appropriate beverage. Like Pepto Bismol. “That does bring up a point. My soul’s signed over. Does that mean I become a demon or something? How does that work?”

  “No, no,” he said. “Human souls are valuable. They are hoarded by the Demon Lords. They are…” He waved his hand, as if searching for the word.

  “Soldiers? Weapons?”

  “Currency.” He finished the milk. “The Demon Lord with the most souls, and the most powerful souls, is the one who wins the Accounting.”

  “They have to come up with a better name,” she said, nerves making her laugh weakly. “That sounds like a big, bloody IRS audit.”