Page 40 of Darkness

“True.” Never black and white, in Morrisey’s opinion. All shades of gray, but not black or white. Gray, like the lower levels of the FBI complex. He shuddered.

“You prefer the gray areas,” Jessa said with conviction. “The other options aren’t enough of a challenge for you.”

Damn. Maybe this woman… demon… whatever… knew Morrisey better than he did himself. He indulged in another sip of beer to avoid answering.

The bartender offered a reprieve, taking Jessa’s order of a white wine spritzer. The edge of her mouth twitched upward when she turned back to Morrisey. “Sheila’s drink of choice.”

Morrisey arched an eyebrow, refusing to acknowledge the bartender’s face over a face. “Why not choose your own?”

Jessa shrugged, dislodging a spaghetti strap from her shoulder. It slithered back into place on its own. What the ever-loving fuck? “I share her senses while in her body. Other drinks wouldn’t taste the same.”

Made sense, Morrisey supposed. “You mentioned your kind being killed.” He immediately quieted when the bartender brought Jessa’s drink. She waited for the guy to retreat, although the bar was so loud, overhearing might be impossible unless someone used bugs.

Morrisey would get a bug detector first thing tomorrow. Several black market suppliers would keep his purchase quiet. If anyone official knew, they’d wonder why he’d bought one for personal use and not requisitioned one through work, which required legitimate reasons for asking and a paper trail.

Nope. Not happening.

Jessa had put them in some kind of soundproof bubble at their previous meeting. “You arranged privacy for us to talk before.”

“There are those among us tonight who’d see through my shield. I must be careful. Don’t worry. Though they’re watching, they can’t hear us.”

“How do you know?”

“Part of feeding from lust is knowing people’s emotions. They’re regretting not bugging your clothes or something.”

Oh, shit. “Can you feel my emotions?”

The frown wrinkling Jessa’s brow took nothing from her beauty. “No. I feel nothing from you. Not even lust.” She curved her lips upward into a sultry smile, squeezing Morrisey’s thigh with red-taloned fingers. “What’s wrong, Detective? Aren’t you fond of pretty girls?”

Morrisey didn’t flinch.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, pulling back her hand. “I’m starting to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“You really don’t lust after pretty ladies. I was hoping I was wrong. I’ll bet you’re lots of fun because the quiet, reserved ones are usually hell cats in bed. However, there are plenty of gorgeous men here. You feel nothing for them, either.” Jessa pouted, pooching out a heavily lined, full lower lip. “Buzzkill.”

Morrisey cocked a brow. “I thought you couldn’t read my emotions.”

“I can’t, but I am observant as a survival skill. You don’t even check anyone out. Could it be you’re not interested in men or women? Or maybe something occupies your mind, making such baser needs irrelevant.” Jessa stared a bit too intently for comfort. “May my mind never be so occupied as to distract me from my baser needs. I happen to love my baser needs.”

Morrisey refrained from squirming. “Keep guessing if it keeps you entertained.” And kept him from too much introspection.

“Very much so. Beats any television drama. Much like you, I cannot resist a challenge.” Jessa sipped her drink, leaving behind a dark red lipstick print on the glass.

“What about the woman you’re currently inhabiting? What will happen to her? How did you know she’d consent to you possess—”

Jessa lifted a hand, palm out. “Never say the P word in my presence. Sheila sent up a plea to the universe for someone to help her get her grandmother’s things back. I realized the situation would be agreeable to both parties and merged.”

“Does she know you’re there?”

“Not really. I was passing by in a colleague’s body when she privately wished for help. She was terrified, but now she’s relaxed. We’ll meet her ex. He’ll bring the disputed items to wave around, both to gloat and try to finagle her into bed, after which he still wouldn’t keep his word.” Jessa mumbled under her breath, “The lying bastard.”

“And you’ll…”

Jessa bared her teeth. Morrisey nearly swore he saw fangs. “I’ll be reasonable at first, but I’ll do what it takes to free her of him once and for all—after I’ve fed. Tomorrow morning, she’ll wake up knowing she’d come out the winner against the old toad. Which will give her back the confidence he’s spent the last four years scolding out of her.”

Morrisey fought a smile. “So, you are a do-gooder.”

---