Dance Only For Me

by Megan Derr

  The sad note he couldn't quite hide made Jackie sigh inwardly. He reached out and ruffled Wyatt's hair. "Probably couldn't see you clear in the dark, is all. Ain't nothing to worry on, so don't. You're pretty hard to forget, trust me."

  "So people say, but they never mean it in a good way."

  Jackie laughed. "Enjoy your drink and stop moping. We're too busy for you to be romancing the Captain of the Guard, anyhow."

  "I don't want to romance him!"

  "Whatever you say, hoss."

  Wyatt glared at him. Jackie grinned and finished his beer. He'd just raised his hand to catch Roxie's attention for another one when the front door slammed open and the stench of blood and foul magic filled the air, stopping the entire club cold.

  Jackie slid from his barstool and strode across the room, meeting the pair stumbling in about halfway. Deacon joined them a moment later, his dragon growling. Jackie didn't recognize either of the sudden arrivals until he was right up on them, and then he realized the more cognizant of the two was Phoenix. The woman in his arms was passed out, bleeding badly all over Phoenix and the floor. "Lay her down." Phoenix moved to obey, helped by Deacon. Jackie dropped down alongside her, opposite Phoenix. No time for a spell circle, not with injuries like that. "Wyatt, my coat."

  Wyatt threw his duster and Jackie caught it easily, reaching into the inner pocket to pull out the bag of runes there. He reached into the bag and closed his hand around four of them, only noting which ones had come to his hand when he laid them out in a diamond formation on her torso. Life. Need. Magic. Time.

  The spell burst to life, casting golden light over the woman, and Jackie felt ready for a nap when it finally finished running its course. Raw, unfocused magic always wore him out fast; he didn't know why witches preferred their wild-edged magic. Give him sorcery any day, amen.

  He retrieved the runes, kissing the last one before he dropped it in the bag. Only then did he notice the white leather collar, heavily worked with runes, around the woman's throat. "Well, I'll be—she's an angel."

  Phoenix nodded. "Yes, she belongs to a sorcerer named Barlett. Do you know him?"

  "By reputation only," Jackie replied. "Ain't a nice reputation, neither. Think Pa knew him, said he didn't do sorcerers any favors."

  "He doesn't," Deacon said shortly. "I've run across him before. The man is a selfish bastard through and through."

  Phoenix grimaced. "All very true, I regret to say. I heard a troubling rumor about him—a rumor related to the discussion you and I had a few weeks ago. I went to go investigate the veracity of it and showed up right at the end of an ugly fight. The demon that did this ran off, badly wounded himself, I think. I saw the angel and no one else seemed to care about the state of her. I tried to take her to Wyatt, but he wasn't home and his place was sealed up. I had a suspicion I would find him with you. I'm glad that assumption was not mistaken. Thank you for helping her."

  "I'm glad I could help," Jackie said quietly, carefully brushing back blood-matted strands of white-gold hair from the angel's bruised face. "What's her name?"

  "I don't know," Phoenix said with a sigh. "Knowing Barlett, she doesn't have one. He's not the type to name a pet and is the type to regard an angel as a fancy sort of guard dog."

  Jackie's mouth tightened as he fought a few choice words. Signaling to Wyatt, he said, "Take her up to our place, put her in my bed. Keep close watch, hear? Nobody goes in or out."

  "You got it, Sheriff," Wyatt replied. "What are you going to do?"

  Jackie took the hat that Roxi brought to him. "Thanks, darling." Shifting his gaze to Wyatt, he replied, "I'm going to have a word with Mr. Barlett."

  Wyatt frowned. "Sure you don't want me to come with you?"

  "I'm more concerned about any trouble that might be headed this way. I know you can handle whatever might come, or at least have sense enough to get folks out. Don't do anything stupid, though, boy. You understand me?"

  "Yes, Sheriff," Wyatt said, grinning when Jackie sighed and gave him a look. His levity eased off as he added, "I'll take care of everyone, I promise."

  Jackie reached out and lightly squeezed the back of his neck, then let go. "I know. Stop calling me Sheriff."

  Wyatt just grinned again before turning away to take care of the angel. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Deacon and his dragon in his path. "What exactly is going on here?" Deacon asked as they formed a loose circle around Jackie and the others. "If there's trouble in Mordred's territory, I want to know about it—now."

  "We'll talk outside," Jackie said. "Don't want to be disturbing folks more'n we already have. You coming, Phoenix?"

  Phoenix nodded and followed them outside. Jackie shrugged into his duster and settled his hat on his head, already wishing he was back at the bar with nothing on his mind except teasing Wyatt and ordering another beer. Finally nodding at Deacon, he said, "Sorry to intrude upon your evening."

  "Forget it," Deacon dismissed. "What's going on?"

  "I've been hunting a man I still can't put a name to who killed a friend of mine. Folks round here knew him well. Name was Holliday."

  Deacon's mouth tightened and his voice was somber when he replied, "Yeah, he was pretty well liked from what I understand. Didn't know him well, myself. I only moved here a little while ago from Clan Mordred's former territory in Canada, but the syndicate imports talked about him a lot. What's all that have to do with an angel and a vampire?"

  As quickly as he could, Jackie laid out all he knew: Holliday, Firebrand, the encounter with Roman and the strange demon, the way Firebrand's partner seemed to be looking for a way to bind the demon.

  "And you put that kid in there in charge of the club?" Deacon asked when he'd finished, his expression making it clear what he thought of Jackie's mental capabilities.

  Jackie's mouth tipped up in one corner. "That kid is a lot more than he seems. He's short on years but a mite too long on life. He'll be alright."

  "I think I'll hang around, if it's all the same to you. It's my job to contain problems in the territory, and I'm not leaving my job to some kid."

  "Whatever your druther," Jackie replied. "Phoenix, we need to get going. Take me to where all this happened."

  Phoenix gestured sharply. "Hardly any point in that and I can do you one better—I'll take you to where Barlett is presently hiding." Phoenix held out his hand and Jackie took it, and they vanished.

  They reappeared in front of a rundown mountain cabin that looked like it belonged in a horror movie.

  Jackie tipped up the brim of his hat to look at Phoenix. "Glad to have your help, by the way, especially after our first meeting when you said you didn't want to get tangled up in this mess again. What changed your mind?"

  Lightly touching the scars on his face, Phoenix replied, "The world never seems to get the message and I cannot keep ignoring that Firebrand is on another killing spree. When I heard the rumors about Barlett I decided enough was enough and I should do something."

  "You knew he was called Firebrand?"

  "Yes," Phoenix said. "Do stop glowering, it has no effect upon me. I did not tell you more when you first came to see me because I was hoping you would leave well enough alone and walk away. You seemed an intelligent fellow. A pity you're as stubborn as your breed is purported. Too many good people have already died in pursuit of this matter; you should not be hastening to add your name to the casualty list."

  Jackie snorted. "I ain't got no plans to join any list. I've dealt with worse than this, least so far as danger goes. This case is bad, but it still ain't got nothing on the glass coffin. You vampires are a right tetchy lot."

  Phoenix's mouth twisted. "Tetchy and fickle, yes. You need not tell me that, sir."

  Jackie let the matter lie, keeping his right hand close to his gun as they headed up the walkway to the rickety porch of the cabin. He was more than a little surprised to see there wasn't a single ward laid on the place. That wasn't reckless—that was just plain stupid.

  The door swung open a c
ouple of minutes after he knocked, just before he started to knock again. A man who looked like he belonged in the same movie as the cabin filled the doorway, scowling at them. He had thinning black hair, dull brown eyes, and a face that hadn't weathered the years well and looked worse for being in sore need of a shave. His eyes drifted warily over Jackie, lingering on the revolvers. He slowly dragged his eyes back up to meet Jackie's. "You're a Black."

  "Ayah," Jackie said, touching the brim of his hat. "Jackson Black, at your service, sir. I hear tell you had a run in with a devil I've been hunting."

  Barlett made a face and stepped back to let them in. "Evil fucking bastard, even for a demon. He destroyed everything. Do you know how fucking long some of that work took me? Months, even years, for bits of it. No fucking mystery to me why they want to figure out how to cage that thing. If you ask me, they should send it straight back to hell."

  Jackie removed his hat, setting it aside as he combed his fingers through his hair. The table he set it on was littered with books and papers, all of it torn or singed. He was impressed Barlett had managed to salvage anything if the demon had been bad as all that. "Mind telling me what you were doing and who had you doing it?"

  Barlett eyed him, suspicion returning, but Jackie stared back levelly until he dropped his gaze. Shifting restlessly, fidgeting with the frayed edges of his oatmeal-colored sweater, Barlett finally said, "His name was Finn Wayland. I don't know anything else about him. I was hired to figure out a puzzling bit of spell. I wanted to see the whole spell, but Finn made it clear that wasn't happening. The piece I did have, though, makes me think the ultimate purpose is to cage and yet not cage a demon. My bit was only about breaking a particular binding so another could replace it, and it was a nasty bit of binding. Like, Keys of Solomon caliber magic. Gave me a fucking headache trying to untangle it, and I didn't get to finish." He waved a hand toward the papers. "As it is, I'll have to practically start from fucking scratch. He destroyed almost all of my goddamn work."

  Keys of Solomon caliber? Jackie wasn't usually one to get nervous, but that was reason enough to batten down the hatches if ever he'd heard one. Wasn't nothing but a long stretch of tragedy wound up in the blood of Solomon. "You don't know anything else about it?"

  "I know that crazy ass demon doesn't want me to know anything. Heard a rumor that Roman was attacked. Not surprised I was next. You mark my words: that demon doesn't want anyone knowing anything about the spell laid on him and he'll do anything to keep it a secret. Can't say I blame him, though, you know? My impression is that he can't be bound—at all, by anything, not even himself. Can you imagine it, a demon that's free to roam?"

  "Ain't possible," Jackie said flatly, though he was more than a little frightened to hear someone else say what Wyatt had already suggested. "If demons knew of a way to avoid being bound to a territory we'd be up to our necks in the damn things. Don't know what was done to that demon, but—"

  "He's free," Barlett snapped. "I don't give a flying fuck whether you believe it or not, but I know what I read and what I saw. That demon can't be bound, not even to a territory the way he should be, and he never will be bound. I don't know how it was done, but I know he's killing anyone who gets too close figuring it out."

  Jackie remembered the runes that covered damn near every inch of skin, eyes that shone like midday sun through autumn leaves. A demon bent on killing anyone who got too close, but had let him, Wyatt, and Roman live. "I think we ain't seeing the whole picture."

  Phoenix made a noise of agreement. "If I was a demon who escaped the territory clause, I wouldn’t want to share the knowledge either. I can't imagine such a thing came without a terrible price. That kind of magic never does."

  "Especially when you consider we already know there was blood work and soul binding involved," Jackie added.

  "I think he's a demon and doesn't want other demons getting a leg up," Barlett said. "I sure wouldn’t want to share that kind of power. I'd kill everyone too."

  "Then I am quite certain you have no reason to complain that he is trying to kill you," Phoenix said. "I find myself increasingly disinclined toward helping you stay alive, as stupid as you are proving to be."

  "Ya'll simmer down," Jackie said before they could begin locking horns. "I need him alive if I'm going to get any information."

  Phoenix sneered. "He will not stay alive for long if he remains in a derelict cabin with absolutely no protections laid."

  Barlett folded his arms across his chest. "That's where you're wrong, you snotty bloodsucker. With no magic in the area they'll assume this cabin belongs to a normal and skip it—and that's only if they find my cabin at all."

  "You ain't running from ordinary magic users, fool," Jackie said, half-tempted to see if it was possible to smack sense into him. "You're running from a demon looking for your unique energies, and a creature that's one third wolf and one third djinn."

  "I …" Barlett's face drained of color, not that it had had much to begin with. "I'm too far away, though, right? This is the opposite end of the country."

  Jackie didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. "Think you'd best come with us, hoss. Anyway, I'm sure you'd like to see for yourself that your angel is doing well."

  "It's not dead?"

  "Phoenix got to me in time to save her," Jackie said.

  Barlett recoiled and unfolded his arms to hold his hands up in placating fashion. "It's just an angel, chill out."

  Jackie ignored him 'cause otherwise he was going to knock the fool clear into next Sunday. "I want answers and you're in sore need of protection. You'd best be coming with us, or—"

  He was cut off by the sudden exploding of the front door. Jackie raised an arm to keep bits of wood from hitting his face and drew a gun with his right hand. Firebrand stepped inside and Jackie fired—but Firebrand just caught the bullet and threw it aside. Jackie kept firing quick as he could, but Firebrand batted or caught every single bullet, cold laughter filling the cabin.

  Then Firebrand moved, grabbing Jackie and throwing him across the room, into the fireplace, before Jackie could hardly blink. His head cracked hard against the fireplace stones and he only vaguely heard Barlett scream like a frightened horse. He looked up in time to see Firebrand knock Barlett out cold. Head throbbing, Jackie pulled his second gun, still loaded with black bullets, and tried to make the world come into focus enough to get off a decent shot. "So you're the bastard what killed Holliday."

  "I heard you were looking for me. Eager to wind up just like him? I can take care of that for you."

  Jackie let his gun speak for him. Firebrand caught the bullet and threw it aside before stalking toward—

  —And suddenly there was a wall in front of Jackie and Firebrand bellowed like a mad bull. He expected chaos to erupt, but as Firebrand's bellow faded, only silence followed it. Jackie finally took in the wall in front of him: a wiry little spitfuck covered in runes. The demon. Jackie holstered his gun and slowly pulled himself to his feet. "What in the hell…"

  He trailed off as Firebrand got tired of the staring contest going on between him and the demon and started laughing. The sound of it reminded Jackie of things he preferred to forget: blood and smoke and dying breaths, rotted bodies and the smell of grave dirt, a cold winter moon and panting sobs misting in the frigid air. He shivered.

  "Hello, Ned," Firebrand said with a growl. "It's been what, fifty years? Are you protecting that hick behind you?"

  In reply, the demon—Ned, was his name really Ned?—just ran at Firebrand. Jackie left them to it, not even pretending for a second he could hold his own in that fight. He went to go check on Phoenix, who at some point had grown acquainted with the far wall nose first.

  "You alright?"

  "I'll live," Phoenix said with a grunt, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it to his nose, which wasn't broken but had been hurt enough that blood was dripping. "Your head is bleeding."

  Jackie sighed and gingerly reached up to touch the wound already
aching something fierce. "Ain't the first time, won't be the last."

  "Bloody hell!" Phoenix said and yanked him down as a body came flying at them, barely getting them out of the way in time.

  "What you said." Jackie nodded toward the revolver that Firebrand had knocked away earlier, just a couple of steps behind Phoenix. "Can you reach my gun there?" Ned prowled toward them—then stepped over them and stooped to pick up Firebrand, who was still dazed from being thrown into the wall hard enough the wood had splintered and broken, the fields outside visible in the cracks. He threw Firebrand against the opposite wall, which just plain gave out.

  Phoenix waited until Ned had gone after him, then stretched out to grab Jackie's gun and tossed it to him. Jackie dumped out the bullets in it and reloaded the gun with red cartridges. He swung the cylinder shut and drew his other gun. "I suggest you get ready to run, vampire."

  "You're about to do something incredibly stupid, aren't you?"

  "Ayah."

  Sighing, Phoenix rose to his knees and prepared to bolt, watching as Firebrand and Ned came crashing back through what remained of the far wall. The smells of magic and fire were sharp on the air, mingling with the earthier scent of a cool autumn breeze.

  Jackie cocked his guns, stood, and started firing. Using both guns caused his aim to suffer, and being single action, they weren't inclined toward rapid firing, but he managed as well as Grandpappy had taught him. The combination of the deadly black bullets and the nasty, but not necessarily fatal, red ones, one right after the other in unbroken succession, definitely got the attention of the battling abnormals.

  He holstered his guns when he ran out of ammo, more than a little pissed that Ned and Firebrand were merely annoyed by the hail of bullets. They should have been a hell of a lot more than that—but then Firebrand tried to use magic and couldn't. Well, at least that had worked, though he bet it wouldn't last long.

  Firebrand threw a dazed Ned aside and prowled toward Jackie. He stepped on Jackie's fallen hat and Jackie scowled before recalling he might have more important things to worry about—right as Firebrand reached him. Jackie tried to scramble away, but Firebrand was still too fast. Jackie screamed as claws sank into his shoulder, slicing through fabric and skin like they weren't nothing but paper. His head slammed into the wall, which didn't do any favors for the injury he already had. Jackie fought an urge to vomit. "Get off me."