Demon Mistress

Page 22

I hurried into the hallway and pulled out my cell phone. Two rings, and Iris picked up. “Hey, listen. Call me in five minutes. We need to extricate ourselves from here before we get into trouble. And there’s plenty of trouble afoot—we just need to figure out what.”
Iris sucked in a deep breath. “There’s more trouble than you think.”
“What’s going on?”
“Vanzir just called. He heard through that fiendish grapevine of his that a new general’s moving into town to take Karvanak’s place. In other words, there’s another big bad on the loose.” She fell silent.
“Thanks. We’ll head out. Don’t bother with the rescue call—I’ll think of some excuse.” I flipped my phone shut and stared at it for a moment. We were in trouble. We were in big trouble. Karvanak had been bad enough; the Raksasa had nearly destroyed us and he had managed to kidnap and torture Chase. Shadow Wing wouldn’t bother with small fries this time. No, we’d be facing something worse. That much I knew for certain.
I hurried back into the room where I found Harold on the floor, with Morio on top of him, his hands wrapped around the dork’s throat. Camille was trying to pull Morio off of him, to no avail. Larry had moved toward the other side of the room, eyes wide.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Camille glanced up at me. “Morio decided to—”
“Camille, just shut the fuck up. I’m taking care of this, so back off,” Morio said, letting go and standing up. He dusted off his hands and gave Harold a rough kick with his toe. “Get up. Now.”
I blinked. Morio never spoke like that to my sister. But his eyes were shifting color. Any minute, and I had the feeling he’d be transforming into his full demonic form. And while he was on our side, that wasn’t going to help us out right now.
“Everybody just chill, or I’ll take matters into my own hands,” I said.
Harold stood up, wincing as he rubbed his throat, his gaze glued on Morio. His eyes were flashing with a familiar psychotic twitch. He reminded me all too much of Dredge.
I stepped between him and Morio. “I’m not going to ask what happened, but that’s enough.” As Harold let out a snort, I turned on him and hissed, letting my fangs descend. He jumped, taking a quick step back.
“Thought you’d see things my way,” I said. “This obviously wasn’t the best idea. Let’s just consider the story dead, and we’ll let ourselves out. And you,” I jabbed my finger against Harold’s chest. “I strongly suggest you rethink whatever might be going through that little brain of yours. You’re asking for a world of hurt, and you know nothing about what’s really out there.”
With that, I motioned for Morio and Camille to leave, then I backed out of the room. As soon as we were outside, I pushed them toward the car.
“Get in,” I said. “We need to have a long talk. And Delilah needs to hear what Vanzir has to say, too.”
“Bad news?” Morio said, his voice still thick with anger.
“Yeah. Bad news. We’ll stop at the bar and pick her up, then head over to the FH-CSI building.”
“Not a good idea,” Camille said. “If the Karsetii is attacking one of the officers still, then it’s going to be right there and might notice Delilah’s presence. Remember—those things are all linked to the hive mother. If it senses her, chances are she’ll spin off a second, and we’ll be fighting two of them.”
“Damn it. We need her. Okay, we have to get rid of this motherfucker so she can get back into action. We’ll tell her in a while, then. Camille, if you can get in touch with Smoky, call him and have him meet us there. Vanzir called Iris with some bad news.”
“Oh lovely. Just what we need.” Camille sighed and stepped on the gas.
I leaned up between the front seats. “Meanwhile, what the fuck happened back there?”
Morio shrugged. “Harold put his hands on Camille.”
“Since when do you fly into a fury over that?” Morio had never seemed terribly possessive, but now his eyes flashed again, and he let out a growl.
“She’s now my wife. And no one touches my wife—or any woman I know—without her permission. Harold didn’t ask for permission. Therefore, I put a stop to it.” With another shrug, he looked out the window.
Subject closed. That’s all she wrote, folks.
I glanced at Camille. “Harold was really stupid enough to try something in front of Morio?”
“Harold did more than try something. Morio had gone over to examine a painting on the wall, and Harold plopped his sorry ass down beside me, jammed his hand up my dress, and tried to slip a finger in my pussy. I knew he was a creep, but that little maneuver still took me by surprise.”
“What? With Morio right there? Is he a total idiot?”
Camille rolled her eyes. “Harold Young not only reeks of Demonkin, but he’s so freaking arrogant that he doesn’t have any clue that people might try to stop him. I smacked him a good one, and that’s when Morio landed on top of him. I thought you were going to kill him,” she said softly, aiming her comment at Morio.
Morio shrugged. “If Menolly hadn’t come in at that moment, I would have. He’s worse than useless. The world is better off without his kind.” He turned toward her, his gaze steadfast and cool. “You belong to Smoky, Trillian, and me. You are not a plaything to be manhandled, and no one will ever take advantage of you while I’m around.”
I sat back, chewing on this new information. Harold had no sense of boundaries. Harold had attacked Camille, and if Morio hadn’t been there, he and his buddy Larry would have tried to rape her. Not that they’d get all that far—not unless they had a weapon. But they would have tried.
Harold had stalked Sabele, and I now believed in my heart that she was dead. Larry and his buddy Duane had spiked some girl’s drink with Z-fen, one of the most addictive date-rape drugs around, and then had themselves a messy little gang bang. The whole group seemed to be infested with a taint that was connected with some form of Demonkin energy. So what else had they done? And how far were they capable of taking their attacks?
As we pushed through the doors to the meeting room at the FH-CSI building, I wondered how many times we’d come here, how many times we’d met to strategize. How long could we hold out against the approaching tide of demons?
We had no hope to destroy Shadow Wing on his home turf—not now, maybe not ever. So we’d put up the fight here. We’d collect the spirit seals and hide them. We’d fight the demons. We’d guard the portals. And we’d never stop, because until Shadow Wing was dead, he’d never give up. Even when we had all of the spirit seals—the ones he hadn’t managed to capture, that is—he’d be after us and after them. And if he ever discovered where they were, then Elqaneve and Queen Asteria would be in danger.
Chase and Yugi were sitting at the table. Sharah was standing behind them. Roz and Vanzir were waiting for us, and Smoky appeared off the Ionyc Sea as we swept in. We slipped into our chairs.
“Delilah not coming?” Chase asked.
“Think,” I said softly. “You really want her around here, where that mother of a demon is hanging out?”
He blinked. Once. Then he softly said, “I hear you. Not a problem. We’ve had two more attacks tonight while we were waiting for you. Guys brought them in. The victims are still alive and are in the medical unit, but unless we do something, this thing’s going to just blow wide open. The Fae community will be a group of sitting ducks.”
“Yeah, well hold onto your dick. We’ve got bigger problems than that,” Vanzir said. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes narrowed. He always looked right on the edge of taking a good swipe at somebody.
Even with Roz’s warning, I realized that I actually found him attractive. We both lived on the edge. We were both vampires—I via the blood, Vanzir via soul energy. Roz I could groove with. Vanzir . . . I had a feeling we would understand one another on a gut level. No prettiness, no niceties . . . just sheer understanding.
“Tell everybody what you told Iris.” I slid into the seat between him and Roz. Roz flashed me an impassive look, but he pursed his lips ever so slightly.
Vanzir glanced at me, then let out a long sigh. “Here’s the deal. Shadow Wing’s assigned somebody new to take Karvanak’s place. The news is spreading like wildfire through the underground.”
“Three questions: Who and what is he? Is he here yet? And did he make it here the same way you crossed over to Earthside?” I asked. When we’d first performed the Ritual of Subjugation, Vanzir had explained how he managed to slip Earthside unnoticed. He arrived via the astral plane. Few demons had the ability to shift through the astral like he did, other than incubi, succubi, and others who worked out on the astral.
“First, it’s not a he. It’s a she. And yes, she’s here. Stacia. She’s a lamia in her natural form, and she’s a general, like Karvanak. We don’t know much beyond that, but given her nature, she’s bound to be nasty.”
“Great, a Greek demon this time,” I muttered.
“Greek, Persian, who gives a fuck?” Chase tossed his pen on the table, along with his notebook. “How’d she get here?”
Vanzir squinted. “Could be someone over Earthside used a Demon Gate spell to let her in. Takes a damned high-powered wizard to gate in a demon that powerful.”
“Since Demon Gates allow an FBH to control the demon—laughably, considering how little it takes to break that control—could it be another demon who did it?” I asked.
“A demon who can use a Demon Gate?” Morio straightened his shoulders. “Not good. But I didn’t think demons could wield control over their own kind via magic.”
“The majority—no,” Vanzir said. “But there are a few, especially half-demon-half-human, who can manage that kind of magic without frying themselves.”
“Shit. Then we’re possibly facing a half-demon wizard on Shadow Wing’s side? Just dandy,” I said.
“Don’t assume,” Smoky said. “We need facts, not assumptions, or we could let ourselves in for trouble.”
“What does this Stacia look like? In both her natural form and human?” Chase shifted in his chair, his right hand twitching.
Karvanak had captured him and tortured him, trying to blackmail us into giving him the fourth spirit seal. I still wasn’t clear on what Chase had been through. He was reticent about discussing the subject, which I understood all too well. It had taken me twelve years to talk about what Dredge did to me the night he killed and turned me.
But whatever had gone on between the demon and the detective, it left Chase short most of his pinky finger, as well as making him a lot edgier. When it came to going up against the bad guys, Chase had always been a by-the-book guy. Now he was harder, more willing to go to the extreme.
Vanzir arched his eyebrows. “She’s not a Penthouse Pet, that’s for sure. At least not in her natural form. Lamias generally look like a giant anaconda with the torso and head of a human female. In human form, they’re like sirens and can bewitch men with their song. So we know that much, but as to Stacia—the only other thing I found out is that, down in the Sub Realms, they call her the Bone Crusher.”
Camille rubbed her temples. “This just gets better and better. We don’t know where she’s at or what she looks like when she’s in human form?”
Vanzir shook his head. “Nope. Woefully lacking on info there. Sounds to me like Shadow Wing’s been keeping her hidden. What she can do, what she looks like, where she is—there’s just no information to be had right now.”
“Delightful,” she said. “We’d better pass this information to the Triple Threat and the Supe Community. She could wreak havoc in no time. Want to make a bet she’s traveling with a bunch of snakes?”
“Snakes aren’t a problem,” I said. “Demons are.”
“Snakes aren’t a problem unless they’re being controlled by a badass bitch,” Camille countered. “There’s a chance, given what she is, that she can summon them, and want to make a bet that if she can, they aren’t going to be harmless little garter snakes but a bunch of pit vipers or cobras or something equally deadly?”
I had to give her that one. “Good point. Okay, so that’s another thing on our list. First, figure out what she can do and where she’s hiding. Then hunt her down and put her out of commission. Meanwhile, we’ve got to kill the Karsetii, or at least drive it back into hibernation, and we have to do so before the full Moon.”
“Yeah,” Camille said, “both Delilah and I will be useless when the Moon Mother goes ripe.”
I thought for a moment. “You can’t ask the Moon Mother to direct her Hunt the demon’s way, can you?”
Camille blinked. “I never thought about that possibility.” She bit her lip and then shook her head. “No. When I’m running with the Hunt . . . I can’t even begin to explain. It’s like being in the grip of a mania. The Moon Mother leads us where she will, and we have no choice but to follow. There’s no thought, no planning, no coherency. Just the ecstasy of the chase.”
I shrugged. “Eh, it was worth asking. Okay, count that idea out.”
I toyed with the pen Chase had tossed on the table. “Then we just have to find the motherfucker and blast it out of existence before we’ve got a body count higher than a teen-slasher movie.”