Page 15 of Infernal Hearts

I freeze in place. “Hi. Do I speak to you about filing a missing person’s report?”

The way he lets out a sigh tells me that this is going to gosowell. “What’s the name?”

“Alexander Blackwell.”

Rhodes pauses for a moment. “Someone already called this in. Can I get your name?”

It must have been Michael. “I’m Jason Blackwell.”

The tone in his voice suddenly changes—firmer, more serious. “Ah. You’re the son. I had some questions for you. Mind if I swing by later this evening?”

My heart skips a beat. “I’d be happy to help. The address is 422 Wisteria Lane. It’s a vet office, but my house is upstairs.”

A pen scratches on the other side of the line. “Great. See you then.”

…

Levi

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was hungover. It must be the poison, but as far as hangovers go, this is nothing compared to the one I got at Woodstock. It’s like I’ve been encased in concrete all night. My neck and back hurt as if metal rods are running through them. And my mouth? Dry and burning like the Sahara fucking Desert.

But this bed is sinfully comfortable. With a deep sigh, my muscles relax as I snuggle into the blankets and pillows. I don’t want to leave it—better yet, it would be nicer with someone in here with me. A gentleman caller would be just what the doctor ordered. Maybe not the doctor next door, but what does he know? He’s a complete downer.

A quick glance at the clock shows three in the afternoon—I’ve been out for over twelve hours. I try to blink away the haze in my vision. Throughout the room, dust dances in golden light—only inviting me to keep basking in the peace. The temperature in here is much toastier than it was last night, reminding me of the Southern summer I’m used to.

My skin is slicked in grime, and while I always smell good to other humans and creatures, to myself I reek of body odor. My first priority is absolutely a hot shower. Dr. Blackwell seems pretty prepared, so he’s bound to have a bar of soap or two.

The first door is just a small closet. Taking the opportunity, I snatch a ratty blue towel while I’m at it. It’s not particularly soft, but it’ll do well enough. I drop my underwear on the bathroom floor and crank the shower knob as far as it’ll go. The water in these mountain towns must take forever to heat up.

A glance in the mirror reveals my face glistening with a sheen of sweat and my hair sticking to my forehead. I’d much rather look like this after a night of dancing or after finding a handsome stranger in a bar. The cut looks much better, though—the once-golden thread is back to black. I’m assuming that’s a good sign.

Steam billows from behind the curtain. I step in and let the warmth rush over my skin, washing away the events of last night. I let my head fall back, and my heartbeat slows as the tension in my body runs down the drain with the rest of the water. I rub the bar between my palms—woodsy and bright, like homemade cologne. Piney.

Was it a bad idea to come here? Should I have just left well enough alone? Figured things out on my own like I always do?

I can’t say I miss my Maker. He was a total bastard who only told me things on a need-to-know basis, and according to him, I didn’t need to know much. He taught me the basics of my powers. The rest I had to fumble through alone, the hard way. Many fuck-ups over the century, but I still like to think I’ve done pretty well for myself.

I hadn’t seen him in years until he called me on his deathbed. I can’t say I felt sad when he died—in fact, I was relieved—but then he had to curse me with one last command. Still, as bad as he was, I’d choose him any day over parents that hated me for being what I am.

Now I’m one of the last two incubi on earth, and it’s a huge wake-up call—and somewhat terrifying. I can only do so much by myself.

Three sharp knocks on the bathroom door echo over the shower tiles. “Levi, you in there?”

Without even bothering to open my eyes, a smirk spreads across my mouth. Maybe someone’s warming up since last night. “Be right out!”

I pat myself down with a towel and open the door and let the vapor out with me, seeing Dr. Blackwell hunched over the kitchen counter, facing away. This is going to be fun.

I stand proud, waiting for his attention. “Has anyone ever told you that your soap is fantastic?”

His head turns toward me. “Once or twice—Jesus Christ, where are your clothes?” He swivels back around as fast as he can and looks at the ceiling as his breath hitches in his throat.

I chuckle, my gaze holding strong on his back and my voice softening. “Well, I’m not sure what you wear when you wash off, but I typically wear nothing.”

The blush creeps up his ears. “The shower is over!”

I shrug, playing innocent. “I like to air dry.”

His arm snaps behind him as he points to the couch. “Clothes! Now!”

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