Wicked Whispers Page 5

  But the pounding of her heart and the catch in her breath wasn’t all fright. She only wished it were. No one had told her demons could be beautiful, and funny, and smell like wild nights and mornings filled with regrets. He obviously had a two-pronged attack. She balanced on the edge of either racing from the room or reaching out to touch that hard chest just a few inches away.

  She opted for running. Yanking open the door, she stumbled into the hallway.

  As he closed his door softly behind her, she caught his final comment.

  “Coward.” He sounded disappointed.

  All she could think about was reaching her room. She would calm herself and then get on her computer and start searching for another job. She stared at the floor as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. A sudden noise made her look up.

  And up, and up, and up. Ohmigod! Whatever it was, this thing was enormous. It had to lower its head so it wouldn’t scrape the ceiling. Its arms hung almost to the floor and were thick with muscle. And its head was colossal with beady eyes and… She swallowed hard. Breathe. You can’t run without oxygen. She stared at its face, at the two six-inch long tusks framing a mouthful of pointed teeth. She forced her gaze to its eyes. It was staring at her.

  It smiled, baring every one of its teeth. “Eat girl later. Find music maker now. Dance.” It demonstrated how ready it was for So You Think You Can Dance by doing a clumsy pirouette.

  Ivy now understood what it meant to be frozen in fear. She’d always felt a certain contempt for anyone who couldn’t act in an emergency. Payback was a bitch.

  “An ogre. Large but not overly intelligent. Perhaps you should warn Murmur that his dance student has arrived.”

  Not even the snooty female voice in her head could force her to look away from the… ogre? No, ogres were misunderstood and lovable and green. Ogres were… Shrek.

  “Oh, for crying out loud, stop ogling the ogre and move. Death by ogre is not a pleasant way to go. Get Murmur.”

  This time Ivy did look down for just a second. A Siamese cat sat staring up at her from brilliant blue eyes. Its diamond-studded collar sparkled in the dim light coming from the fake wall sconces. Not real diamonds. Couldn’t be. But why the hell was she thinking about the cat’s collar when… ? She returned her attention to the ogre. She opened her mouth to scream.

  “Stop. People coming to investigate equals angry ogre. Do you really want all those deaths on your conscience? Now, let me keep this simple: Ogre. Run.”

  Ogre! Run! Finally, her brain had decided to send the message to flee to the rest of her body. Ivy turned and raced back to Murmur’s room. She didn’t have much trouble staying ahead of the shambling ogre because it was busy doing a rhythmic bob and shuffle as it worked its way toward her. She pounded on his door while she tried to suck in enough breath to talk when he answered. Not that he’d need her to explain what was happening. The ogre attempted a graceful leap. Epic fail. The whole castle shook as it landed.

  Murmur flung open the door. “What the hell is… ?” He spotted the ogre. “Not possible. Not this fast. Give me a freaking break.” He moved to her side. “I will never have another friend.”

  Ivy didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. “Do something.”

  Murmur paused to study the dancing ogre. “Not bad form. For an ogre. He at least has a sense of rhythm.”

  “Do. Something. Now.” Her voice rose to a screech. She couldn’t control it.

  “Consider it done.” He took a step toward the ogre, and his voice fell into a hypnotic cadence. “Hear no more, yearn no more, dance no more. Return from whence you came.”

  Suddenly, the hall was empty. Silence filled the space where the ogre had stood.

  “Where’d he go?” Not that she cared. All that mattered was that he’d disappeared.

  “I sent him home.” He stepped back into his room, then paused to stare at her. “Interesting. You saw past his glamour.” His expression hardened. “You won’t tell anyone what you just saw. If you attempt to tattle, the words will freeze in your mouth.”

  She narrowed her eyes and glared. “Is that a threat? Because I intend to go right to Sparkle and tell her…” Nothing. She couldn’t finish the sentence. Ivy tried rearranging the words in her mind, but she couldn’t push them past her lips.

  “You did this.” State the obvious, why don’t you? She wanted to hurl every curse she’d ever heard at his manipulative head—he’d crept into her mind and taken away her free will—but she couldn’t concentrate because what sounded like some sort of Gregorian chant was playing over the words she wanted to scream at him.

  “It could be worse. I could’ve taken the memory from you completely.” His frown said he was wondering why he hadn’t.

  Fury, panic, and terror jockeyed for position as she numbly turned from his door. She didn’t even glance back when she heard it shut. How did he think he could keep this secret? Like everyone hadn’t felt the castle shake?

  Then she remembered the Siamese cat. What was it about cats and this castle? A quick glance assured her it was gone. She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed her forehead. Maybe there’d never been a cat. Maybe this whole thing was one giant hallucination.

  Ivy made it back to her room without encountering any more creatures. She sighed her relief as she closed her door and locked it. Then she turned around.

  The Siamese cat lay on her bed, its tail twitching and its collar gleaming. “You took long enough to get back. You can order lunch from room service for both of us.”

  Ivy blinked. “Room service?”

  The cat’s sigh was a cool shiver in her mind. “Perhaps you’ve noticed my lack of opposable thumbs? And hotel minions rarely respond to meows, even imperious ones. So you’ll have to order.”

  It said a lot about how Ivy’s day had gone so far that she didn’t even question the cat’s presence. She ordered a sandwich and salad that she probably wouldn’t be able to choke down, and then she glanced at the cat. “What do you want?”

  “A tender lamb chop and a bowl of milk would be nice.”

  Ivy repeated the order and hung up. She sat down on the chair farthest away from the cat. “Okay, who are you? What are you?” Her body felt heavy with fatigue, pulled down by a vague sadness. She’d really needed this job to work. “And are you real?”

  “Of course I’m real. I don’t think you’re a stupid woman, so don’t act like one. Now, since Sparkle allowed her hatred of me to get in the way of common sense—because I was absolutely the best choice for her assistant—I’ve decided instead to help you survive the job.”

  “Survive the job?”

  “First, introductions. I’m Asima, messenger of the goddess Bast. I’ve spent time at the castle helping where I can. Sadly, only a few perceptive people appreciate my value.” She raised her elegant nose, a haughty gesture that crossed species lines. “I was away for a short time and came back to find that Sparkle had hired you. Truly shortsighted of her.” She seemed to think about that for a moment. “Although I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice person. I simply meant that you’re unprepared for the… unique demands of this job.”

  Ivy didn’t want to think about the “unique demands” of her new job. She was too busy dealing with the earthquake happening in her head, obviously caused by the massive shift in reality taking place there. Her last bastion of belief in a sane world was, well… insanity. At least if she was certifiable she could get help from her local mental health facility.

  The delivery of their lunches shut the cat up for a little while. Too little. It made short work of the lamb and milk with delicate bites and refined laps. Ivy sat and stared at her lunch. She might never eat again. Okay, so that was stupid. Don’t implode. Stay grounded.

  Once finished, the cat… No, Asima—Ivy decided to assume she was still sane—stared at her with unblinking intensity.

  “The first thing you need to know is how to dress for your job. I took the liberty of dropping a few things off in
your closet while you were in your meeting. Sparkle will love your professional look.”

  For just a moment, something sly moved in the cat’s eyes. Ivy studied Asima, but before she could do any analysis, the expression was gone. “Thanks. I think.” So many questions to ask, but Ivy’s thoughts still staggered in shocked circles.

  “You’re welcome.” Asima leaped from the bed and padded to the door. It swung open. “I’ll get back to you later with some guaranteed ways to impress Sparkle.”

  “Wait.” Ivy might not know or trust Asima, but the cat was her only weapon against Murmur now. “You saw the… You were there in the hall. Please, go with me to Ganymede or Holgarth if you don’t want to deal with Sparkle, and explain what you saw.”

  “Why would I do that?” Asima seemed genuinely perplexed.

  Ivy took a deep breath before blurting the truth. “I can’t say the word…” She flung her arms up in frustration. “You know, the thing we saw? Murmur messed with my mind. He wants to keep it secret, but I think someone needs to be told. It could’ve injured guests. Sparkle’s my boss. I have a duty to inform her.” Okay, the truth? She was furious at Murmur. He’d dared to manipulate her mind without her permission. Ivy hated her feeling of helplessness. And yes, she wanted to make him pay. If that made her a vengeful bitch, then so be it.

  Surprise widened Asima’s eyes. “Can you text it?”

  Ivy pulled out her phone and tried. Damn, she couldn’t even write the word. “Nope.”

  Asima’s expression turned calculating. “You can’t say or write the word ‘ogre.’ How interesting. I’ll need time to consider your request.”

  “But—”

  “I’m afraid I have to go now.” Asima paused before leaving. “By the way, you might want to ask yourself how you were able to see the ogre’s true form. A normal human would have seen an old man. We’ll explore the intriguing possibilities at another time.” She left the room, her waving tail an arrogant question mark over her back. Fitting. The door clicked shut behind her.

  A normal human? Ivy knew soul-deep that she’d never be normal again. Once seen, an ogre couldn’t be unseen. She stared at the indentation in her comforter where Asima had lain. Real; it was all real. And she didn’t have a clue how she’d been able to see the ogre as he really was. Murmur and Asima had to be mistaken. There was nothing special about her. The ogre must’ve been so wrapped up in his dancing that he’d forgotten about his glamour.

  Her heart was racing. Calm. Stay calm. She needed something to take her mind off Murmur, Asima, and random… whatevers dancing throught the castle’s hallways. It was time for her to start doing her job. Ivy dragged the bag of complaints from her closet and dumped what must be thousands of folded papers onto her coffee table. Then she began to read them.

  “Holgarth told me I had the acting ability of a cactus.” Ivy set the paper on a designated spot on the table for all wizard complaints. She picked up the next paper. “Your chef sucks. Tell him I’ve eaten tastier shoe leather than that steak from last night.” Restaurant pile. “Holgarth refused to make me the handsome prince. He said I’d have to lose a hundred pounds and get a new face to qualify.” Wizard pile. “I found dust above the door to my room.” Who the heck checked for dust above the door? Guest room pile. “Holgarth wouldn’t let me be in the fantasies. He said he’d call me when they began doing nightmares.” Wizard pile.

  Ivy frowned. She was beginning to see a pattern. Her cell phone shattered Ivy’s silent contemplation of the pile of complaints still to be read. She almost ignored the call. Then she sighed. Life had to go on. She pulled the phone from her pocket and put on her fake perky voice. “Hello?”

  A few minutes later, she shoved the phone back into her pocket. Part of the giant boulder resting on her chest lifted. One of the other job applications she’d put in had come through. Sort of. She wouldn’t start work for three weeks, and she’d have to move to Denver. The money wasn’t as good as here, but if the workplace was demon-free, hey, she’d make do with less. She could work here for two more weeks and then tell Sparkle she was quitting. After all, Sparkle had misrepresented the job description. Nowhere had it mentioned dancing with demons and facing down ogres. Definitely a deal breaker.

  But as she sat trying to work up the energy to read more complaints, the boulder settled back onto her chest.

  She was a coward. Sure, no one else would call her that. No one would blame her for walking away from this nightmare. But Ivy would know. She would be quitting after just a few weeks. Just like Dad. If she called home and told Mom she was quitting because the castle had a sexy demon along with assorted other nonhuman entities, Ivy knew what her mother would say.

  First, Mom would sigh wearily. Then she’d say she understood. Mom always said that to Dad when he quit a job. Each time he used the same excuse. He couldn’t concentrate on his work because he could hear voices when no one was there. He claimed the voices followed him wherever he went.

  Ivy had wanted Mom to lose her temper just once, to scream at Dad that she was tired of supporting the family, tired of his weak-ass excuses. But Mom never yelled, never threatened to leave him, just looked sad.

  Ivy loved her father, but she’d never for a minute believed his story. Mom should’ve gotten help for him years ago. Ivy had even believed he was faking the voices so he wouldn’t have to work.

  But now? Ivy knew her smile was bitter. What goes around comes around.

  She stood and headed for the door. If she had to work two weeks here, she’d give Sparkle her money’s worth. Her boss would probably be at Sweet Indulgence now. There was something weird about Sparkle owning a candy store. Images of Hansel and Gretel came to mind.

  And if she thought just a little about never seeing Murmur again after she left the castle, she would concentrate on his mind manipulation and allow her anger to smother any regrets.

  4

  Earbuds in, Murmur lay on his bed listening to the latest pop pap. It helped to neutralize the music in his head so that he could think. Guilt? He almost didn’t recognize the feeling. Demons didn’t do guilt. But there it was, buzzing around his head like a demented fly. And all because of the accusation in Ivy’s eyes—betrayal. A scary revelation, because he’d betrayed and been betrayed so many times over the centuries that there should be no emotion connected to it. Why now? Why her?

  He folded his hands behind his head and contemplated the ceiling. She wouldn’t sympathize with his reason for sealing her lips. The longer they could keep Ganymede and Sparkle in the dark about the fae visits, the better chance they had of being here when the faery host arrived. Sure, they could probably move their operation to another place, but no other hotel would offer a built-in army. No matter how ticked Ganymede would be at them, when the time came he’d defend his home against the Sluagh Sidhe.

  At some point, Murmur realized he was dozing off. Unusual for him to feel sleepy. Demons didn’t need much down time. His last waking thought was that he’d have to face Ivy with the implication of her ability to see through glamours.

  When he opened his eyes he was somewhere else. What the… ? He was lying in the grass on a hill overlooking a village. Murmur glanced around. Centuries old from the looks of the buildings and the people’s clothing. He watched as they scurried about doing the useless things humans did. A dream?

  “Today is a good day for them to die.”

  Murmur turned his head. He recognized Klepoth’s voice before he saw him sitting on a nearby tree stump. Today Klepoth looked about sixteen with spiked blue hair and bright red eyes. His appearance changed with his mood. It had been a long time, but Murmur still remembered that a visit from the demon who dealt in illusions was never a happy event.

  “What do you want?” Murmur didn’t feel like pretending he was glad to see Klepoth.

  The other demon tried to look wounded by Murmur’s tone, but his sly anticipation leaked through. “I thought we might experience one of your happier memories today. From what I’ve seen, you�
��ve forgotten how to have real fun.”

  Murmur glanced back at the village. Did he remember this? There’d been so many villages, so many slaughters. He looked away. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.” Klepoth grinned. “The Master just wanted to remind you what a good time felt like.”

  “Is that all?”

  Klepoth shrugged, but his red eyes were slits of malevolent pleasure. “For now.”

  Murmur stood. The need to destroy seeped through him—familiar, comfortable. That’s how he’d felt back then, and it seemed as though Klepoth meant for him to experience the same emotions with the same results now. He should relax into it, enjoy the moment. This was just a realistic simulation. Klepoth was good at what he did.

  Then why did he feel reluctant about the coming slaughter? You’re becoming like them, the humans down there—too fragile, too soft. The very idea outraged him. He was what he’d always been, and “soft” was never a word that anyone would say to his face and survive the saying. “Let’s go and end some lives.”

  Klepoth whooped his agreement. “Now you’re talking.”

  Together they swooped down on the village. Klepoth patrolled the perimeter, herding anyone trying to escape back toward the town center. The Master must have ordered Klepoth to let Murmur do the killing, because he watched Murmur from hungry eyes filled with barely controlled bloodlust. The other demon might specialize in illusions, but he liked to bloody his hands as much as any of them.

  Murmur stood surrounded by terrified villagers, who trampled each other in their panicked need to get away from him. Too late. Much too late. He grinned.

  Then he composed a special melody just for them. It was filled with jagged edges and deadly needles of sound. He drew the notes from the power curled in layers deep within him and then gave it form. The music spiraled out from him—seeking, destroying.