Page 16 of The Incubus and the Bodyguard

The crime lords had been surprisingly amenable to his explanations concerning what had gone down that night. Giovanni had even waved away his son’s injuries as an unfortunate consequence of being in their line of business. As for Wei Chen, the Triad leader had been unusually calm as she’d listened to the carefully edited story he’d given them about the powers he, Cortes, and their familiars had demonstrated.

Whether their demeanor was down to his ability to lie through his bare teeth or their own self-preservation instincts in the face of what they’d witnessed remained to be seen.

That might change the moment they find out I’ve lost my powers.

Cortes’s grunt brought him back to the present. “Meaning?”

“Meaning they’ve agreed to keep quiet about what they saw.” Vlad paused. “For now.”

Cortes’s expression grew shrewd. “And the price for their silence?”

Vlad sighed. “They want a bigger cut of the dock revenues.”

Cortes snorted. “Of course they do.”

“Yuliy will deal with it.” Vlad’s grip tightened on his glass. “It’s better than the alternative.”

Cortes narrowed his eyes. “The alternative being the crime families spreading word that theBlack Devils’ heir is now expendable?”

“Bingo. Though after that video leaked, the damage is already done.”

Tarang made a worried sound and bumped his leg.

Vlad instinctively tried to comfort him with a subtle wave of demonic magic. His gut clenched when his attempt returned nothing, his power as inaccessible as it had remained for the past two days.

Popo stirred on Cortes’s shoulder.

“You two are looking mighty gloomy tonight,” the familiar said merrily, his bright gaze swinging from Vlad to Tarang. “Cheer up, buttercups.”

“Not now, Bird Brain,” Cortes warned.

The parrot subsided with a put-upon sigh. “I’m only trying to lighten the atmosphere, my Enrique.”

“Has Mrs. Son-Ha gotten back to you?” Vlad asked Cortes.

“Not yet. I’ve had a couple of men camped outside her place for the last couple of days. There’s been no sign of her.” The Colombian grimaced. “You know how she is. She’ll call when she’s good and ready.”

Vlad wrinkled his brow and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly.

They’d decided the South Korean Shaman was their best chance at figuring out what kind of magic had been used on him. But getting hold of the old woman was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.

There’s always Bryony Cross. But I’m loath to ask her.

Though she was a good friend of his, the High Priestess of the New York coven was bound to tell Mae what had happened.

Movement at the bar a few feet away caught Vlad’s eye.

He looked up and froze, his breath catching.

The woman was six feet tall, with an athletic build that suggested serious hours spent training. Her eyes were a deep sapphire blue and her blonde hair was pulled back in a French braid that emphasized her striking cheekbones and full lips. But it was the way she held herself that drew his attention. Like a predator at rest.

She wore fitted black pants and a cream sweater that did nothing to hide her curves. A leather jacket was draped over the barstool beside her.

Cortes followed his gaze. “That’s the most interest you’ve shown in anything for four whole months.” The Colombian’s voice held a hint of amusement.

Vlad barely heard him. He was too busy watching the woman deal with the drunk who’d decided to try his luck.

“Come on, gorgeous.” The guy who’d approached the blonde was doing his best to crowd her space, his friends loitering a short distance away. “Let me buy you a drink.”

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