Page 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Well, that had been a waste of a hundred bucks. Sure, he’d barely miss it, but still, he’d kind of been hoping that Marva the Marvelous could have offered a bit more in the way of concrete advice.

About the only thing he could agree with was the Lovers card. Although Delia hadn’t given him the slightest hint of encouragement, he had to hope he’d still be able to get her thawed out one of these days.

Or, as the psychic had pointed out, maybe that card really had meant only a partnership. Considering how Delia had agreed to lend advice and moral support for the reno at the Pueblo Street house, you could say they’d already become partners of a sort.

At least it was a nice day, the temperature way above average for January, just kissing seventy. That meant he might be able to coax her into getting an outside table for lunch, preferably one that was off in a corner so they could talk about what they’d just heard at Marva’s without having to worry about anyone eavesdropping.

“Buy you lunch?” he said, and Delia, who’d just pulled away from the curb, lifted an eyebrow.

“We only had breakfast a couple of hours ago.”

“It’ll be almost one by the time we find someplace to eat and sit down and get served,” he responded, and she let out a small breath, as though she knew she might as well capitulate.

“All right,” she said. “See what you can find that’s near here.”

He got out his phone and had Google pull up all the restaurants within a ten-minute drive of the route they were currently traveling.

“There’s a kind of farm-to-table place about five minutes away,” he said. “Turn left at the next light.”

Delia obliged, following his directions until they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. Since it was just past twelve-thirty by that point, the place looked packed, but luckily, someone was backing out just as they arrived, so they were able to snag a prime spot near the entrance.

“Do you have reservations?” the pretty blonde girl at the hostess station asked as they approached.

“Um, no,” he said, then sent her a smile he knew generally made most of the female half of the population a little weak in the knees. “We were in the area and hoped you might have a table.”

Next to him, Delia shifted her weight, and he wondered if she was going to say it was okay and that they’d just go somewhere else.

But then the hostess replied, “I think we might have something on the patio, if that’s all right.”

Since it was exactly what he wanted, Caleb knew it was much more than “all right.” “That would be great,” he said. “Thank you.”

She led them out to the patio, where a wall fountain burbled quietly away on one side and a latticed pergola provided some shade. However, she took them to a table that was mostly in the sun, probably figuring that on a mild day like this, there was no reason to hide from its rays, which in the summer could be absolutely scorching.

After she handed them their menus and said a server would be out to see them shortly, she went back inside, leaving him and Delia alone. Her gaze was already fixed on the contents of the menu, but he guessed that wasn’t what she was actually focused on.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Her mouth pursed. Without looking up, she said, “I think we should wait until we’ve ordered our food.”

It turned out she was right, because their server appeared right then, a guy with extremely bleached hair who looked like he was probably a student at UNLV or one of the other local colleges.

They both ordered iced tea, although Caleb would have rather had a beer. Still, he took his lead from Delia — and was glad she’d already decided on something, because then he could do a quick survey of the menu and choose something for himself while she was still talking to their waiter.

A beef dip sounded good and he asked for that, along with extra French fries. He had no idea what awaited them in the next couple of hours, so he figured a little carb loading couldn’t hurt.

Once the waiter had left, Delia said, “I’m still trying to unpack what Marva told us.”

Caleb, on the other hand, thought it had all been fairly straightforward, now that he’d had a little time to ponder the reading the psychic had done for them. “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

One russet eyebrow lifted slightly. “How so?”

“Well, the King of Pentacles totally must be Robert Hendricks.”

She crossed her arms, settling against the back of her chair. “I doubt it’s that simple.”

“Why not?” he argued, then had to pause because their server returned with their iced teas and told them their sandwiches should be out in about ten minutes or so. After he’d gone, though, Caleb thought it safe to resume the conversation. “It makes total sense that he’s the King of Pentacles — ‘a person of intelligence and cunning.’”

“He doesn’t seem that cunning to me,” Delia returned, then reached for her iced tea so she could take a sip. “Successful, sure, but it’s not like he’s some kind of criminal mastermind.”

Now it was Caleb’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “Do you really think criminal masterminds go around advertising that they’re criminals?”

She chuckled and sipped some more iced tea. “All right, you have a point there. But even if Robert Hendricks has engaged in some kind of underhanded behavior that we don’t know about, do you really think he’s the type to be summoning demons? He’s a casino exec, for God’s sake.”

“Okay, on the surface, it might seem crazy,” Caleb said. “But not every person who dabbles in that kind of stuff goes around dressed in all black with pentacles around their neck or whatever. I’m sure most of them do what they can to pretend they’re good little Christians like their friends and neighbors.”

Or at least, that was what he assumed. It wasn’t as if he hung out with Satanists — they’d been pretty thin on the ground in Greencastle, Indiana — but he had the example of Jeffrey Whitcomb, the man whose identity Belial had subsumed, to prove that someone could dabble in the very darkest magic…and get possessed for his efforts…without anyone around them knowing what that person was involved with.

And all right, Whitcomb hadn’t come to a very good end, but he’d lived a life of wealth and success before then, all fueled by the dark forces he’d summoned.

“Why would Mr. Hendricks even take such a huge risk, anyway? I mean, isn’t there always a chance that any demon you call will eventually turn on you?”

“Oh, it’s more than a chance,” Caleb replied with a grin. “Demons are always out for themselves, and harder to control than a classroom full of kindergartners. Anyone who summons a demon and doesn’t think there’s going to be some blowback doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

Delia seemed satisfied with that response, because she inclined her head toward him before saying, “Then I can’t see how Robert Hendricks would be mixed up in something like that. You don’t get to his position in life by taking those sorts of dangerous risks.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Caleb said. “Usually when you have someone that successful, it’s because they stepped on a few heads along the way.”

Her lips curved in a wry smile. “Speaking from personal experience?”

“No,” he replied easily. “I was going to inherit all my money, so I didn’t need to waste my time stepping on heads.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, then went on, “I mean, with your father in Hell these past two years, wouldn’t your mother have had him declared dead?”

“I’m sure she did,” Caleb said. “But when I dropped in back home before coming here, we didn’t go into a lot of details. She just gave me some seed money and sent me on my way.”

Delia’s expression shifted to one of equal parts sympathy and shock. “After thinking you were dead all that time? She didn’t try to get you to stay in Greencastle?”

He really didn’t want to reflect on that brittle little convo. Brooke Lockwood had had two years to come to terms with her new existence, and he’d been an interruption, nothing more. While she’d certainly passed on some good genes to him, she’d never been much of a mother.

“We weren’t exactly your Hallmark holiday special kind of happy family,” he replied. “So no, she didn’t ask me to stick around. It’s fine. I wouldn’t have stayed even if she’d wanted me to.”

Definitely not. One thing he’d enjoyed about the time he’d spent in California — even though he’d gone there at his father’s behest — was the freedom the experience had given him. Sure, he was there looking for the Project Demon Hunters footage, but at least Daniel Lockwood had stayed back in Indiana, and therefore couldn’t supervise every moment of his son’s day.

It had been a welcome change of pace.

And when he escaped from Hell, he’d known there was no way in the goddamn world he’d go back to that same life, even with his father gone. He’d wanted something different.

Las Vegas was about as different from Greencastle, Indiana, as you could possibly get and still remain on the same continent.

Delia’s mouth opened, but then she stopped herself. Had she been about to offer him some words of sympathy?

He didn’t want that. No, all he wanted was to get to the bottom of this thing with Robert Hendricks and the demons.

If they were even connected. Delia seemed dubious, and Caleb supposed he couldn’t blame her, not when all they really had to go on was a Tarot reading that could have been interpreted in a variety of ways.

“Well, you seem to have settled into the Las Vegas lifestyle pretty well,” she remarked.

With that comment, he knew she wouldn’t bring up the sore subject of his mother again unless he was the one to initiate the conversation.

It was the sort of thing a friend would do.

Were he and Delia friends?

He honestly couldn’t say for sure. Some kind of business associates, he supposed, but he still couldn’t get a clear read on how she felt about him.

Maybe that was for the best.

“Working on it,” he said.

The waiter arrived with their food then, so they thanked him and were quiet for a bit while they picked up their sandwiches and had a few bites. Even though Caleb probably could have gone another hour or so before eating again, he had to admit that it felt good to take this break and replenish his stores of energy.

Being on edge all the time could take a lot out of you.

But once they paused to have some iced tea, he ventured, “We really need to pin Hendricks down. Maybe you’re right and he really doesn’t have anything to do with any of this. If we could get some kind of confession out of him, though, we’d have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Delia wiped her fingers on her napkin and sent him a level stare. “Get him to confess how? We’re not the police. We don’t have any kind of leverage over him.”

All right, she had a point. On the other hand, Caleb could think of a few ways to put the screws to the guy if necessary.

“Threaten to expose him,” he said easily. “If he’s been summoning demons to do his dirty work, I kind of doubt that’s the sort of thing he wants spread around town.”

“I don’t do blackmail, Caleb,” Delia said, her tone flat.

“It’s not blackmail,” he countered, even as he realized there were obvious limits to how morally gray Delia was willing to be. “We’re not trying to extort anything from him. We just want the truth — and to get him to back off from sending his imps after me.”

“If they’re even his imps at all.”

Since Caleb didn’t have any definitive proof that Hendricks had been controlling all those demon attackers, he knew he didn’t have much of an argument to provide on that particular point. Instead, he dunked his beef dip in its au jus and took a bite first so he could collect his thoughts.

“Right,” he said. “There’s a whole lot we don’t know. But the only way we’re going to get anywhere is to go to the guy directly.”

Delia didn’t look too impressed by that line of thinking. “And risk offending someone who’s technically a client of mine.”

“Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it,” Caleb said. After all, it was only money…and he could always get more.

“It’s not about what he’s paying me,” she responded. “It’s about offending someone who has a lot of connections in this town. If it turns out we’re wrong, he’s going to tell everyone that I’m a crackpot who believes demons are real.”

Even though Hendricks was the person who’d first brought up the subject of demons to Delia. However, since Caleb was forced to admit her concerns were valid, he only said, “Well, you do get rid of ghosts.”

“Not the same thing, and you know it.”

They lapsed into an uneasy silence then, each of them returning to their food because they weren’t quite sure what they should say to each other.

But after he’d eaten one half of his beef dip, he sipped some iced tea to wash it down, then said, “I know I’m asking a lot of you.”

Her cool green eyes met his. “You are.”

“If I’m right — if he really is the one who summoned those demons — then this is the only way to stop him. People who dabble in this kind of stuff don’t want to be found out.”

For a second or two, she didn’t say anything. Her fingers tapped against the side of her plate, and she looked off toward the fountain as though hoping she would find some kind of insight from watching the way the water splashed in the cool January sun.

“Maybe you have a point there. But there’s still so much that could go wrong.”

She hadn’t said she wouldn’t do it, which meant she must be backing down just a little.

Good. Now all he had to do was reassure her that she wouldn’t be going in to beard the lion in his den all on her own.

“Not as much as you think,” he said. “You can have your phone in your purse and have a call connected to me so I can hear everything — and record it, just to be safe. The first hint of trouble, and I’ll teleport into his office and get you out of there.”

“Just like that,” she said, now looking almost amused.

“Just like that,” he echoed. “One of the perks of being part demon, you know? I’ve done it before — carrying another person isn’t a big deal. And since Robert Hendricks is supposedly just a normal guy, there won’t be much he can do to stop me.”

Delia’s lips pressed together. He wasn’t sure whether their soft, rosy hue was natural or whether she used some sort of lip stain. If it was makeup, then it was pretty sturdy, since she didn’t seem to have eaten off any of it.

“And you don’t think he’s going to be a little startled by the two of us just disappearing into thin air like that?”

“Why would he be? If things go sideways, it’ll be because he definitely was the person behind summoning those demons, and that means seeing us vanish isn’t going to throw him off very much.”

Once again, she went quiet as she seemed to weigh all the various arguments he’d presented.

“Besides,” Caleb went on, “I’ll disguise myself, just like I always do. He won’t even know who I am.”

“He’ll sure as hell know who I am,” she returned without missing a beat.

“Yes,” he said. “But he already knows you’re not the person who’s been winning big at his casino…and others. What he won’t know is who you’ve been working with, and we need to keep it that way.”

She picked up a French fry and dipped it in some ketchup — not, he thought, because she was particularly hungry, but because she needed some cover while she pondered his proposal.

“He won’t be able to retaliate,” Caleb said, hoping this angle might make Delia a little more receptive to his plan. “Doing that would only prove he’s been the bad guy all along.”

“You sound very confident.”

“It’s because I am.”

She popped the French fry in her mouth, then followed it with some iced tea. “All right,” she said after a few more seconds. “I still don’t like it, but you’re right — things can’t keep going on like this indefinitely.”

Caleb wouldn’t allow himself to smile…he didn’t want her to think he was being too triumphant…but he nodded. “Thanks, Delia.”

He didn’t add, You won’t regret it, because he knew if this all blew up in their faces, she might very much regret throwing in her lot with him rather than telling him it was his problem and that he needed to fix it on his own.

She wasn’t that kind of person, though. In her mind, she’d probably already decided where her allegiance lay…and it wasn’t with Robert Hendricks.

And that could only be a good thing.