Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 Read Online Free Page B

demon
soldiers in the area. Their primary purpose is to keep the
population in line, in whatever way they deem necessary. On rare
occasions, The Director lets them off the leash, usually during
viewer events like live executions or battle sports between
species.
    "Three thousand?" He noticed her
swallow down whatever else she’d been about to say.
    "You've had dealings with his
soldiers?"
    "Once." Her tone told him the
experience hadn't been a happy one.
    He didn't dig. "They're needed to
control the forty-two wolf packs and the even larger number of
vampire nests. We have over thirty master vampires living in the
tri state area and each of them governs at least three nests.
Sorcerers and witches come in at around 25,000 each. And those are
only the ones who've registered."
    "You're not kidding, are you?" Mack
shook his head. "That's an impossible number of supernaturals for
The Director to control."
    "Don't underestimate our boss. He and
his demons are connected in some way, so he has them pretty much
under his thumb at all times. I think he can even channel power to
them remotely."
    They were on the Verrazano Bridge now,
its graceful lines standing out against the newer, utilitarian
structures that marked the entrance to the New York Harbor. Guard
towers seemed to sprout up like weeds along the Brooklyn and Staten
Island shorelines, defending the waterway. The Director was
obsessed with the security of his empire.
    "Ever think of jumping?" she
asked.
    Mack frowned, wondering how the bridge
had brought about such a depressing thought. A human family had
jumped off the Tappan Zee Bridge a few days before. Ingrid must
have heard the report and mixed up the two bridges. "Never. My
life's been good so far. Have you considered ending
yours?"
    "I don't run away from my nightmares.”
She gave Mack a scrutinizing glance. “You believe your life’s been
good?” Before he could answer, Ingrid pointed out the window. “Look
at that."
    They were already on the Staten Island
side. Behind a wired fence, a couple of remotely controlled
bulldozers could be seen smashing through a neighborhood, while a
group of humans stood off to the side, clutching their few bags of
belongings. Some wept. Others raged at the guards who held them
back. One male was struck down by one of the archdemon’s soldiers.
Judging by the gore on the sidewalk, he wouldn't rise
again.
    The Director was making a big deal on
the news about revitalizing many of the rundown neighborhoods
peppered throughout the city, but these families would never be
able to afford an apartment in one of the newer buildings. They'd
be begging on the street by tomorrow—maybe dead in a
month.
    Ingrid curled her body into the seat
and grew quiet. Perhaps his words of warning had hit home, and she
was reassessing the dangers of life in New York City. This was a
lesson she needed to learn fast if he was going to be able to
protect her.
    He signaled for Scott to bring down
the privacy shield and said, "I know you're tired, but would you
tell me what happened at your last performance?"
    She flattened her mouth and narrowed
her eyes. "You've seen the news reports, I'm sure."
    "I have."
    She turned her face toward the window.
"There's nothing else to tell." She lied smoothly, which meant
she'd had lots of practice. "Diane Stone is still in the hospital.
Alan and Staci were placed in other troupes last week, but I don't
know which ones."
    Her pain at losing contact with her
friends was clear. "I'm sorry to hear that you and your former
troupe are still feeling the effects of the event, but I need the
details from your perspective. I've only heard The Director's
version."
    Her eyes widened, her body growing
tense. Maybe she was afraid he'd react badly if he knew her panic
had contributed to the deaths. Or was there something else? A
secret she hadn't told?
    She took a moment to smooth out her
skirt and straighten her posture, leaving her hands in her lap.
When she met his gaze, she was all