Chapter Nineteen

No one stopped Morrisey when he left the office for the day, head full of more than he ever wanted to know about a young woman who’d just lost three housemates. Leary hadn’t stated exactly when he expected Morrisey to move to the compound, after all. Their bad. He’d managed two stiff drinks—at least—in his apartment before a knock sounded on the door. Who the fuck came knocking at this hour? He checked his phone. Oh. Only nine p.m. For a brief moment, his mind flashed to an image of Farren on his doorstep, wearing nothing but a smile.

As long as Farren didn’t drag Morrisey back to the gray abyss, as he’d taken to calling the compound.

He savored the image of a naked Farren for a moment longer before knocking came again. “All right!”

Instead of an image from his fantasies, he opened the door on a smiling redhead in a too-tight shimmering dress and too-high heels holding a bottle of tequila. Wow! So much silver. Morrisey’s hopes died a cold and heartless death.

Still, tequila.

“Who’re you?”

The woman’s face shimmered for just one moment, showing another. Oh.

“It’s me,” Jessa gushed in an imitation of Marilyn Monroe’s breathy style. “You look like you’ve been through hell. I thought you might like some company.”

Farren’s company, maybe. “What do you want?” While Morrisey had seen Jessa before, they’d never been alone, and she fed off sexual energy. Not that Morrisey had any to spare. He imagined her showing up at the door in an apron. Hi, I’m your new neighbor. Can I borrow a cup of lust?

“Other than for you to find out who’s killing my friends? Just to have a drink.” Jessa smiled. The one simple gesture encompassed so much more than Let’s have a drink. Had he been straight, Morrisey could have fallen for Jessa’s wiles.

Guilt niggled for a mere moment. Morrisey hadn’t even looked at the list she’d given him in a while. He hid his guilt under a disdainful, “Who’re you wearing like a cheap suit today?”

Jessa swept a hand up and down, indicating her body. “Meet Mary. She hates going to the gym, so I handled her workout today in exchange for her letting me pay you a visit.”

She was here, and with her buying, Morrisey could save his supply of tequila. He offered his glass. “Pour.”

Jessa poured him a shot, then rummaged through his kitchen cabinets, finally returning with a chipped coffee mug. “Dude. You should really clean your apartment. Something in a saucepan on the stove winked at me.”

Morrisey returned to his seat. “Oh, don’t mind Leon. He’s harmless—mostly. If you came here to nag, leave now.”

Jessa shoved a few magazines, a pair of shoes, and several pairs of socks in various states of cleanliness onto the floor, wiped at imaginary dirt on the couch cushion, and then sat, removing her shoes and tucking one foot beneath her. She seemed unfazed by Morrisey’s grouchy attitude. “I didn’t. I see you got in with the crowd I don’t trust. How’s that going for you?”

Morrisey presented his glass for a refill. ”If you assume I will discuss cases with you, you are sorely mistaken.” Especially when he’d been drinking a while to forget the details himself. He only slurred his words a little. Go him.

“I didn’t have time to tell you before, but I’m sorry about your old partner. To those we’ve lost.” Jessa refilled Morrisey’s glass with two fingers of tequila and lifted her cup, but when Morrisey didn’t meet the toast, drank anyway. “From what I understand, he was pretty good. For a human.”

Morrisey slammed back the tequila and wiped his mouth on his hand. Anything to keep from showing the hurt she’d just dredged up—hurt Morrisey had been hiding well. Denial, like most other things in life, had its place. “What do you know about him?”

“He didn’t deserve to die, and someone from my home realm is responsible, even if indirectly.”

No faulting her assessment. “Do you know the perpetrators?”

“No. I told you before, I avoid demons.”

“Travelers,” Morrisey corrected automatically, having heard Farren do so enough.

“Nah. I’ve met them, remember? Most are pretty evil if you ask me. I’m a traveler. About ninety percent of those who hang out where I do definitely fall into the demon category. Trust me on this.”

“But not you.”

“Nope, not me.” Jessa took another sip of tequila. “I help women get even with exes, stand up for themselves, and endure their Pilates workouts. I’m fucking awesome.” With a grin and a wink, she added, “I’m also pretty awesome at fucking, but you’ll have to take my word unless I show up wearing some handsome young man.” She raised an elegantly arched eyebrow. “I could, you know.”

Morrisey shuddered at the thought. “Don’t you dare.”

“Yeah, I suppose I’d have to work hard to find someone more attractive than your new partner.” Now she waggled those perfectly groomed eyebrows. “I mean… that ass!” Jessa pantomimed spanking something at ass-height with her hand. “I’ll bet that ass wouldn’t even jiggle if I smacked it.”

“Leave Farren out of this.” Morrisey’s bleary mind did not need the visual of Farren’s pert ass embellished with a handprint—Morrisey’s handprint. Especially when he’d yet to work out how he felt about Farren walking around in a dead body. But was it really dead? Morrisey shifted on the couch cushions, his jeans feeling tight. “What do you know about Farren Austen?”

“Not much. He’s some kind of cop. I tend to avoid those. Although I don’t harm my hosts and usually leave them better than I found them, some people get really touchy about the morality of what I do.”

“How so?” There seemed to be two of her, but both Jessas were taking Morrisey’s mind off things he didn’t want to think about. She could keep right on talking.

Jessa turned to face Morrisey more fully. “When I leave here, me and Mary are going clubbing and find somebody to fuck.”

“That’s not consensual if Mary’s not in control.”

“Mary’s only out of control because she wants to be. She wants to get laid but is too shy. Don’t worry. I always practice safe sex, and I’ll find some nice guy. Another benefit of reading emotions. No assholes for Mary. Uh-uh. Not on my watch.”

“But you use people. Use their bodies for your own gain.”

The humor left Jessa’s face. She slammed her cup down on the cable reel coffee table—which would have been far more dramatic without about a pound of assorted bills spread out on the surface. “You’re wrong. I form partnerships. We each get what we want, and I honestly care about my hosts. With me, they don’t feel alone.”

“Do you use the same body more than once?”

Jessa shrugged, somehow making the simple move appear seductive. “If they want. Me and Piper go way back.”

“What about these friends of yours?”

“What about them?”

“Do they partner with their hosts, too?”

“No. I’m one of a kind.” Jess flashed a disarming grin, which promptly fell. “Most are summoned. There’s some asshole out there who knows how to pull us through a portal, then thinks he owns us, can make us do his bidding. Those who try to escape, well, there’s always a traveler in need of a body. He ejects the current spirit right outta there so a new one can move in. Kinda like a heartless landlord.”

Farren didn”t miss the significance of the ”us.” “I thought you didn’t like other travelers. So, how can you have friends?”

“Only ninety percent are assholes, remember? There’s still another ten percent.” Jessa poured herself another drink and looked to Morrisey, who shook his head, surprised to find he still had tequila in his glass.

He held his glass up, watching the liquid shimmer in the low light. How strange to talk to a woman… err… succubus… who looked different each time. “If a traveler possesses a body, and the asshole who summoned them takes it back, then are they repossessed?” He laughed, though the play on words only seemed funny for a minute.

“Actually, yes. Whoever is behind the body shuffling can not only summon, but they can banish, too, which is a talent usually reserved for Magestra. I think Princeps might have the capacity, but they think themselves above such unpleasantness, and no self-respecting cop would harm another unlawfully. Magestra have so many fucking procedures to follow. I mean, those guys are so rigid on rules I’m surprised they don’t break.”

Morrisey thought back to some less-than-scrupulous cops he’d known over the years. “Yeah, but some human cops don’t have a whole lot of self-respect.” Though he didn’t consider himself particularly unscrupulous, he mentally raised a hand. His self-respect had taken several hits over the course of his life.

“Even though I don’t trust them, I’m glad you’re with the task force. It’ll give you a better opportunity to find out what happened to my friends and stop a major asshole.”

“I haven’t yet had time to look into the matter.” Nor had Morrisey decided if he’d look into the matter. Not with Farren staring over his shoulder. Time for a change of subject. “You don’t trust Farren.”

”I”m skeptical of most of FAET, but the one who calls himself Farren...” Jessa looked askance at the books on Morrisey”s bookcase. “Mary calls him a Boy Scout. Though she didn’t really explain the name. After all, he’s no longer considered a boy, right? Sharing a body means I only access memories my host allows. I don’t trust him yet, but maybe one day.”

“I understand.” Sort of. Morrisey had gotten the impression of Farren being somewhat of a rule-follower, with just a touch of bending those rules when necessary.

Yeah, a Boy Scout.

Or an angel.

An idea crossed Morrisey”s mind. “Can you exist outside a body?”

“I can survive a day or two floating around, but it’s disorienting.” Jessa stretched provocatively, grinned, and changed the subject fast enough to induce whiplash. “Got any good porn?”

Morrisey nearly clutched imaginary pearls. “I am not watching porn with you.”

Jessa pouted. “Spoilsport.”

“I thought you and Mary were going out.”

“Yeah. I promised her. You get some sleep. I think you might need eight hours or so of good shut-eye.” Jessa scrunched her nose. “Shower first. You reek.” She left the nearly empty tequila bottle on the coffee table and sashayed out the door.

Morrisey perched on the couch for a few moments, finding his moorings. What a whirlwind of a woman. He polished off his drink—Jessa bought the good stuff—and lay back on the couch, kicking the rest of the debris off the cushions to get comfortable.

He’d just close his eyes for a bit, then take a shower and climb into bed. In just a few moments…

Morrisey dreamed the landline rang.

Jessa answered.

While Farren poured Morrisey a shot of tequila.

Naked.

Once more, Morrisey found himself in some sort of void, with nothing to see but darkness. “Hello!” he called. Nothing. Silence. Not even an echo.

A shining being slowly approached, floating, two shapes to the side of the figure slowly flexing. Wings?

The being stopped before Morrisey. ”I don”t know if I”m summoning you or you”re summoning me, but this seems impossible. You’re human.”

That voice. Farren’s gentle tenor. “Where are we?” Morrisey shifted his gaze side to side, then up and down, but couldn”t make out anything but the two of them.

“We’re in the place between realms.”

“Why are we here?”

“I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be here. I’ve never seen a human here.”

Why Morrisey said the words, he’d never know, but they came out anyway. “Maybe I’m not human.”

How did anyone feel so fucking miserable and still live?

Cheerful humming came from the kitchen, along with the scents of coffee and bacon. What the hell? For a moment, Morrisey’s heart soared. Craig?

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” No, the voice was far too feminine.

A woman with flawless deep skin tones and a mass of purple braids strode into the bedroom—how the fuck had Morrisey gotten into the bedroom?—wearing a crop top and low-slung jeans. Her feet were bare. Morrisey glanced from the woman to his exposed crotch, then yanked the sheet over his middle.

He’d dreamed of Farren—again. Or was it Farren? Angel Farren?

The woman lifted one side of her—please let it just be Jessa—wide mouth. “I would tell you to get up, but parts of you already have.” With a definite gleam in her eye, she turned and strode to the kitchen, tossing over her shoulder, “Breakfast is ready. I just had mine. Must’ve been some dream.”

Head shaking didn’t clear his jumbled thoughts. No, the action only increased his pain.

“I have ibuprofen and coffee waiting,” the woman called.

Morrisey yanked on a pair of running shorts that had never lived up to their name and stumbled into the kitchen, knuckling one eye. “Dare I ask about your new host?” This was Jessa, right? Being bleary-eyed didn’t help him see superimposed images.

“We met last night after I left the club.” Jessa kept her back turned, attending a boiling pot on the stove. “Mary is one very happy customer this morning, I might add. Who knows, this might even be the start of a good thing for her. I didn’t get any negative vibes from the guy. He’s nearly as shy as she is, and they’re both gamers and work in IT. I am now an official geek matchmaker.”

“What are you doing here?” Morrisey flopped down at his two-seater table, which, by some miracle, was no longer hidden under a pile of clutter.

Jessa sat a filled plate and cup of coffee before him. “You mean you can’t tell? I’m fixing breakfast.” She pinched his middle. “No offense, but as Erica’s mama would say, ‘Someone feed this poor child a biscuit.’ You’re so skinny you could walk between raindrops and not get wet.” She settled on the opposite side of the table with a cup of coffee held in long-fingered, beringed hands—each finger tipped with a wickedly sharp talon painted in rainbow patterns.

Oh, right. May had given way to June and Pride month. Somewhere a rainbow T-shirt languished in a drawer, an exact match for one Craig once wore.

Erica must be this new host’s name. “Why are you here?” Morrisey repeated between bites of bacon and eggs. He wouldn’t complain. Damn, when had someone last cooked him breakfast? Just his luck, they’d end up being a demon.

Okay, traveler.

“The FBI is going to move you to their complex for your protection.” Jessa lowered her cup to the table and made air quotes. “First, I might not get to see you again in the immediate future, and secondly… Damn!” Face scrunched in distaste, Jessa made a show of assessing the kitchen. “If you’re gone for a few weeks without cleaning this apartment first, it’s gonna look like a science experiment when you get back. And baby? It doesn”t matter how attached you might be. Leon’s gotta go.”

Leon? Oh, right. What Morrisey called the sludge at the bottom of a cooking pot. “Let me guess. Erica is a teacher.”

“Yes, she is. And she needs my help today while she’s being evaluated. I’m gonna get this lady a raise for sure.” Jessa paused, a peculiar expression on her face, and stared at nothing.

“Did you just high-five yourself?”

“Mentally. Yeah.” Jessa gave a sheepish shrug. “You’d like Erica. She’s feisty but not diplomatic. Kinda like the female version of you with better table manners. Which is why she needs a little help with her evaluation.”

“And what is she paying for the privilege of you driving her like a school bus?”

“She’s going to a bachelorette party with friends later. She said I could tag along.” Jessa grinned and took another sip of coffee. “They hired a fireman stripper. Hubba hubba.” She waggled her brows.

Morrisey fixed her with a pointed look. ”I want to speak with Erica.”

“What? Why?”

“I want proof she consented to this.” If Morrisey now belonged to a task force created to safeguard humans against travelers, might as well start now.

Jessa closed her eyes. When she opened them, all playfulness vanished. “You should be more trusting sometimes,” the woman groused. Her entire demeanor changed: her vocal inflections, the rigidness of her posture, even her facial expressions, so open a moment ago. Now her lips twisted askew in blatant disapproval.

“Erica? And no, I shouldn’t when it’s your well-being we’re talking about.”

“Yes, I’m Erica. And yes, Jessa has my permission to, hmmm… how did you so eloquently put it?” Erica ran her fingers across her pointed chin. “Oh, yeah, right. ‘Drive me like a school bus.’ Really, dude?”

“Okay. Let me talk to Jessa again.”

“Believe me now?” the woman asked, changing back into Jessa mode.

“Yes. But I have a question. If the government is trying to keep the news about travelers quiet, aren’t you making a clusterfuck of things by speaking with so many people?”

Jessa giggled. “Who’re they gonna tell? No one will believe them. Besides, if you found the secret to getting what you wanted, would you let others in on the deal? I think not.” She pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of way too-tight jeans and checked the screen. “Oops. Gotta go. See ya.”

She bussed her lips across Morrisey’s cheek and raced out the door.

Only then did Morrisey notice his mostly immaculate kitchen and living area.

Then her words sank in. The FBI is going to move you to their complex for your protection. Damn. Morrisey’d been hoping they hadn’t been serious about the little stipulation on page seven of his employment contract.

Farren arrived at Morrisey’s building twenty minutes later.

With a van.

And wearing clothes. Regardless of how hard he stared, Morrisey never detected wings.