Personal Demon (Otherworld 8)

I gave him a look. "I don't mean--" Well, actually, that was why Jaz wanted to get together. I answered the phone.

"Hey."

"Faith?" It was Guy. "Is Jaz there?"

"Uh, no. I haven't seen him since he and Sonny took off on that errand. Hasn't he come back yet?"

"He did. About an hour ago. They were heading to their place to get ready for tonight. I called to ask them to swing by early, but I'm not getting an answer."

"Ah, well, Jaz...dropped his phone earlier..."

"I called him after you left, and it was working fine. Sonny isn't answering either. I'm concerned. Jaz can be high strung, and I know he wasn't happy at being left out tonight, but to ignore my calls..."

"Even if he did, Sonny wouldn't."

"I'll check with the others, then maybe head to their place." He hesitated. "If I do, I could use a second pair of eyes, if you're free."

My chest constricted. If Guy wanted "a second pair of eyes" he'd pick one of the others. Asking me meant he wanted a service the others couldn't provide: chaos detection.

He thought something had happened to Jaz and Sonny.

"Sure," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Give me a call and I'll be there."

I disconnected and slumped into a chair. Karl didn't ask what had happened--he wasn't one to avoid eavesdropping or pretend he had.

"Maybe they're just out of the cell-service area," I said. In Miami. Right. "Or they could be someplace that's blocked reception--a restaurant maybe. Yes, that's probably it. Guy can be a little paranoid."

"Not a bad trait in a leader, particularly when it comes to the safety of his subordinates."

My phone rang again. Guy calling back. He'd contacted Bianca, then Rodriguez--who was with Tony and Max. None of them had seen or heard from Jaz or Sonny since the meeting. Guy gave me an address. I said I'd be there in twenty minutes.

JAZ AND SONNY'S place was what I'd expected: a well-kept walkup in a neighborhood that straddled the line between dubious and dangerous. They could afford better, but this was decent enough, and they probably didn't spend much time here.

People who've gone through rough times financially seem to have two responses when their fortunes change. Some spend the money as fast as they can, treating themselves to everything they missed. Others are careful, determined to have some left over if the flow ebbs. At first glance, you'd peg Jaz and Sonny as type one. But they weren't as careless as they seemed, especially Sonny.

Security was like the building itself--decent, but nothing special. Guy broke into the apartment effortlessly. As we stepped in, I braced for the worst. While I'd convinced myself they were just out of phone contact, I kept thinking back to their encounter with the Cabal goons. Those guys hadn't targeted Jaz and Sonny at random. They weren't only the newest gang members--they were also the least supernaturally powerful. And let's face it, one look at them and they were clearly guys who liked to resolve their disputes over beers, not broken heads.

So I braced myself to see a ransacked apartment, stepped into the living room and let out a sigh of relief. I wouldn't call the place tidy, but there was no sign of a break-in or a struggle. A basket of dirty laundry waited to be taken to the cleaners. Sonny had tossed his jacket on the sofa. Sections of the Miami Sun were spread about, left wherever they'd been read. Breakfast dishes were stacked in the sink. It looked like my apartment when I was busy and didn't expect visitors.

I removed my shoes--a lesson from my mother embedded deep enough to be instinct--then headed for the tiny kitchenette. I learned only that someone liked Cheerios and someone preferred Froot Loops, and I could probably guess who was who. With a smile, I moved toward the bedroom. As I entered the hall, I stepped on a wet patch of carpet.

I turned toward the open bathroom door. The light was on, and a towel on the floor. I've been known to drop and leave towels, my mother's lessons being less concerned with housekeeping than etiquette. But there was water on the floor, trailing into the hall, suggesting whoever got out of the shower hadn't toweled off.

I heard the steady trickle

of water, the shower dripping fast. Clothing was draped over the closed toilet--Jaz's from earlier. I picked up the towel. Dry and haphazardly folded. Unused. Someone jumping out of the shower, leaving the bathroom dripping wet and--

And what?

I closed my eyes and concentrated. No visions popped up. As I opened my eyes, I looked at the counter, and saw Jaz's wallet, with his keys, cell phone and a scattering of coins. Emptying his pockets before he took off his pants.

I opened up the wallet. Jaz's driver's license, a few frequent customer cards, three twenties, a ten and two fives.

Where would Jaz go in such a hurry, without his cell phone, keys and wallet?

I fought the rising panic. This was Jaz--impetuous Jaz. Sonny could have called him, he hopped from the shower, talked to Sonny, said "dry enough," dressed and went out for a bite to eat, trusting Sonny to have a phone and wallet.

"Faith?"