“You’re the one dragging around a fucking demon,” Gabe replied tartly. “And he’s right—the more cannon fodder, the better the chances that your sloppy ass will get through this alive. You’re losing your touch, Valentine. Don’t make me come over there and smack some sense into your hard head. Besides,” she continued, “sparring with Monroe will take some of your edge off. You haven’t had a good sparring partner in years, and you won’t eat him alive the way you’d do anyone else. Way I recall it, he always gave you a good run for your money—in and out of the sack. I never saw you so relaxed.”
“Do we have to drag my sexual history into this?” I asked. “ ’Cause if we do, you’re going down with me.”
Silence. The cab began a wavering descent. My ears popped.
“Do you need combat to ease your nerves?” the demon asked.
I shrugged, keeping my eyes firmly shut as my stomach lurched.
“Hades,” Gabe breathed. “Does he live there?”
I opened my eyes to look; wished I hadn’t.
Jace had either done well for himself or was renting from a Nuevo Rio druglord. The house was large, with an open plaza made of white stone, green garden growing up to the stone walls, a red-tiled roof and the glitter of shielding over it.
The shielding slid briefly through the taxi, flushing slightly as the demon stilled. The mark on my shoulder gave another spiked burst of pain.
“The mark’s hurting,” I said. The demon’s attention fixed on me.
“My apologies.”
“What’s up?” Gabe asked.
“Don’t even talk to me,” I said without any real heat. The anger had drained helplessly away. “Not until after dinner, Gabe. Fuck.”
She shrugged and stared out the window again.
“Thank the gods,” Eddie mumbled.
I was just beginning to seriously contemplate drawing a knife when the cab touched down and we scrambled out onto the glittering hard-baked white marble plaza—above the city’s smoghole stink, but still blazing under the hammerblow heat of Nuevo Rio.
CHAPTER 23
Jace Monroe hadn’t just done well for himself.
He’d gotten absolutely, filthy, marvelously, stinking rich.
I took a long bath in a sumptuous blue-tiled bathroom while the demon laid his own protections in the walls and windows of the suite a hatchet-faced butler had led us to. Gabe and Eddie had their own set of rooms right next door, done in pale yellow instead of blue and cream. I wondered if Jace had picked the furnishings himself or had an assistant do it.
I wondered who he’d bought the house from, and how he’d managed to accumulate enough credit. Mob freelancers usually don’t get rich—they usually die young, even the psionics.
I closed my eyes, resting my head against the back of the tub. The water was hot, the soap was sandalwood-scented—I knew that was Jace, he had to remember that I’d always used sandalwood soap—and I felt as safe as it was possible to be, in a Shaman’s mansion with a demon carefully laying warding everywhere.
I wondered what Jace would make of Japhrimel. He hadn’t seemed to even notice the demon. I wondered what Gabe had told him.
I lifted my toes out of the silky hot water. Examined the blood-red molecule-drip polish on my toenails. The heat was delicious, unstringing muscle aches and soothing frazzled nerves.
Gabe was right, really. This was better than a hotel. And if Jace would feed us, it would mean that we wouldn’t have to spend a fortune tracking down Santino. We could spend our credit on finding the demon instead of hotels and food… and maybe hiring some merc talent to make things uneasy for him.
Feeding, I thought, and grimaced. What am I going to do about the demon? Blood, sex, fire. I can’t give the last two… and he’s refused the first.
A knock on the bathroom door interrupted me. “Dante, I’ve finished shielding the room.”
“Come on in,” I said, sinking down in the milky water. “We’ve got to have a little talk.”
He opened the door. A burst of slightly cooler air made the steam inside the bathroom billow slightly. “Are you certain?”
“For God’s sake. I’m sure you’ve seen a naked woman before. I’m under the water, anyway. Sheesh.”
He stepped into the bathroom, his long coat moving slightly. He didn’t seem to sweat, even in the fierce Nuevo Rio heat. He examined the mirror over the sink across from the bathtub as if he’d never seen one before, and I thought of asking him to sit down but the only place was the counter next to the sink or the toilet—and the image of a demon sitting on the toilet and looking at my profile was too much. While he studied the mirror I studied his broad back, turned to me and covered with that coat. “You wanted to talk?”
“You need blood,” I said, wiggling my toes against the cobalt tiles. My sword leaned against the tub, a comforting dark slenderness. “The mark’s hurting me, and I can’t do my job with that kind of unnecessary distraction. Okay?”
He nodded, his dark hair beginning to stick to his forehead. He wasn’t sweating—the steam in the air was weighing his hair down. “It may be uncomfortable for you.”
“Well, you won’t take mine, so… Um, how many pints do you need?” I should have suggested a Nichtvren haunt, I realized, kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner. Since the advent of cloned blood, Nichtvren social drinking had taken on a whole new context and popularity.
“I can visit a slaughterhouse,” he said. “You still have slaughterhouses.”
“Oh.” I absorbed this. “You don’t… oh. Okay.” Silly me. I thought he meant my blood. I slipped my toes back into the water, yawned. Oddly enough, I was tired. “How about tonight? I need to do some recon anyway, get used to the whole place.”
He nodded. His eyes were darker, their luminescence veiled. “Very well.”
“Is it going to be really messy?” I asked. “We can’t afford him being warned of our intentions.”
“I think it would be best if I went alone, Dante.”
I shrugged, water rippling against the side of the tub. “Fine.” Another yawn caught me off-guard. “I’m going to finish up in here, and then you can have a turn.”
“Not necessary. But thank you.” He didn’t sound robotic—his tone was merely polite, shaded with some human emotion. Which emotion? I couldn’t tell.
I shrugged again. “Okay. Scoot along, then.”
He turned to leave, then stopped. “I would not have you see me feed, Dante.”
Why should I care? I thought. “Thanks,” I said out loud, not knowing what else to say.
He ducked back out the door, steam drifting behind him. He didn’t even sneak a peek, I thought, and smiled, ducking under the sandalwood-scented water.
When I emerged into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and carrying my sword, the demon stood by a window looking down into a courtyard full of orange trees. Up here above the main bulk of the city, the smog wasn’t so bad, and the heat was bearable due to the high ceilings and chill stone walls. Jace had climate control. But I was going to have to get used to the heat if we were going to be hunting here.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” I said, dropping down on the bed. Water weighed my hair, sandalwood smell drifting around me and warring with the heavy smell of demon. “I wonder how Jace affords this.”
“Ask him,” the demon replied. “You’re tired, Dante. Sleep.”
I yawned again. “If I asked him, he’d probably think I was interested.”
“Are you?”
“We broke up a long time ago, Japhrimel. Why are you asking?”
“He seems to evoke a response from you.” Did he sound uncertain?
“I suppose loathing might be a response,” I admitted. “He’s infuriating.”
“Did you leave him?”
“No,” I yawned again, closing my eyes, surprised. I didn’t sleep much on hunts. And who would have thought that it could be comforting to have a demon in the same room? “He left me. Three years ago. Came down here, I gu
ess…”
“Foolish of him,” Japhrimel said, before I fell asleep.
CHAPTER 24
Gabe settled down cross-legged on the rug across from me. I balanced the tracker in one hand, examining its crystalline glitter. The arrow was spinning lazily, not yet triggered. I wouldn’t use it unless I absolutely had to—but it was nice to have. If we didn’t find any whisper of the demon here, we could trigger the tracker and see where it led us.
“Where’s the demon?” Eddie asked.
“Went out,” I replied absently, staring at the tracker. “Needs feeding.”
“Hades bless us,” Gabe snorted, “Feeding?”
“Well, he said he was going to go to the slaughterhouses. Efficient, right?” I shifted on the green and blue Persian rug, uneasy. “Where’s Jace?”
Gabe pulled a black satin card-pouch from the bowels of her blue canvas bag. Her fingers moved with the ease of long practice as she extracted the tarot cards, shuffled them with loud gunning snaps, then turned one over. “He said he’d be back by dark. It’s dark, so I suppose either he lied, or—”
“You have no faith in me either,” Jace said from the door. He stalked into the room, the bones on his staff clicking together. His hair was damp, sticking to his skull and darker than its usual gold, and his eyes were dark too. He’s upset, I thought, automatically cataloguing the set of his shoulders, the way his left knee moved a little stiffly, the way his aura shifted through violet and into blue. We’d been lovers once, and it was a mixed relief to find out I could still read him with a glance.
I looked back down at my palm, at the tracker’s lazy spinning.
We were downstairs, in a huge high-ceilinged living room holding two long blue velvet couches and a collection of silk and satin floor pillows, ceiling fans turning lazily. The staff of the house were Nuevo Rios, lean brown women in starched uniforms, a black-jacketed butler, none of whom spoke any English.
Gabe glanced up at Jace. “Hey, Monroe. Nice digs.” Her tone was neutral, and her expression might have been a warning.
“Anything for the famous Spocarelli. And the pretty Danny Valentine.” He paced over to the wet bar holding up one end of the room. “Drinks?”
“Scotch on the rocks for Eddie, vodka Mim for me, and Danny looks like she’s in the mood for a brandy,” Gabe replied promptly. “What’s the word, Shaman?”
He waved his staff briefly, a clicking rattle. “Give me a minute, Gabe. ’Kay?”
I studied the tracker, worrying my lower lip with my teeth. If I could still read Jace…
No. He had never been able to read me.
My left shoulder throbbed. Japhrimel had left as soon as dusk fell. I didn’t want to know what he was doing. I kept my fingers away from the mark, not wanting to see through his eyes.
Gabe’s eyes rested on me. The clink of glasses, liquid pouring from place to place. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she stage-whispered.
I darted her a murderous glance. She grinned, her emerald twinkling, and a completely uncharacteristic desire to laugh came over me. She was acting just like a high-school girl—or at least, like the high-school girls I’d seen in holovids, blinking innocently and giggling over boys.
I shrugged. I didn’t have a reputation for small talk, so I simply concentrated on stuffing the tracker back in its leather bag. If I have to use this, it had better work, I thought, or I’ll go back to Saint City and find whatever cell they’ve stuck Dake in, and I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.
If he hadn’t died from Chill withdrawal by the time I got back.
How long would it take to hunt down Santino anyway?
Not long. Not once he finds out I’m looking for him. My skin went cold, my nipples tightening and gooseflesh breaking out over my skin. All at once memory rose, swallowed me, was pushed down.
Jace turned around at the wet bar, and his blue eyes met mine. I hadn’t even known I was staring at his back. “I hear you’re hunting Santino, Danny,” he said quietly. “Is that why you brought a demon into my house?”
I rocked up to my feet, carrying my sword. “Okay,” I said quietly. “That’s it.”
Gabe sighed. “I didn’t want—”
“Let’s get this over with,” I snapped, and my thumb caressed the katana’s guard. One simple movement would slip it free. “I didn’t want to be here in the first place, Monroe. I’d rather live in the filthiest sink of Nuevo Rio than stay in your house.” I took a deep breath. “And that demon’s saved my life more than once since this whole filthy mess started. More than I can say for anyone else here.”
Silence. Jace carried two glasses instead of his staff. He walked across the room, handed one glass to Eddie, who was watching me, his hazel eyes narrowed. Gabe turned over another card, accepted the other glass.
I started to feel a little foolish, standing up. Gabe hummed under her breath, a snatch of classical music. Berlioz, I placed it, and took a step back, turning on my heel.
“So you’re in a bit of a mess,” Jace said quietly. “You always did have a talent for getting into trouble.”
I rounded on him, my unbraided hair swinging heavily against my back. “It’s none of your concern. I wasn’t the one that wanted to contact you.”
“I know,” he answered, straightening a little. His fingers tapped his swordhilt. “Gabe told me as much. I talked her into staying here. It’s safer all the way around, especially if you’re hunting Santino.” His voice dropped. “I heard enough of your nightmares to know that name.”
My thumb rested against the guard.
There was a slight sound, and the black-clad hatchet-faced butler bustled in. I took a deep breath, eased my hand away from the guard, clasped the hilt loosely. He directed a stream of liquid Portogueso at Jace, who shrugged and gave a clipped answer. The butler, his dark eyes resting on me for just a moment and skittering away, bowed and scuttled out.
Jace shrugged. “Dinner’s in fifteen minutes, sweetheart. I was just curious. He’s a tough one, your demon.”
I swallowed dryly. My left shoulder gave one last spiked flare of pain; then a wave of warmth slid over my body, my neck easing its aching. “I guess so,” I said. “Look, I didn’t want this.”
He nodded, his eyes holding mine. “I know. It’s okay. Come on, let’s get something to eat. It’s been a long day. I’ve cleared my calendar for the next month or so, and there’s a few contacts we can start on tomorrow—”
“You’re inviting yourself in on my hunt, too?” My jaw clenched.
Jace’s mouth curled up into a half smile. It was his “I-know-best” expression, and the sight of it tightened my hand on the hilt. “Why not? You’re a hell of a lot of fun to work with, Danny.”
I looked down at Gabe. Her hair fell forward over her face, unsuccessfully hiding her smirk. Eddie still stared at me with narrowed eyes. He was tense, too tense. Eddie expected me to go after Gabe.
That managed to hurt my feelings.
I took another step back, bare feet shushing against the Persian carpet. If I’d been wearing my boots, I might have stalked out of the house. “If everyone’s finished having some fun at my expense,” I said tightly, “I think I’ll excuse myself.”
“Dinner,” Jace said softly.
“Not hungry,” I countered.
“You don’t eat, you start seeing ghostflits without wanting to,” he reminded me. “Come on, Danny. Don’t let that stupid pride ruin a lovely reunion.”
I kept my temper with a physical effort of will, my hand clenching on the hilt. Gabe scooted back and made it to her feet, hooking her arm through Eddie’s. “Come on, Eddie. Let’s let these two have a moment alone.” She looked enormously pleased with herself.
“No need,” I said. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t.” Jace said. “Come on, Danny. Bend a little.”
I shrugged. “I was never very good at that, was I? That’s why you left.”
Gabe all but dragged Eddie out of the room, whispering som
ething to him. The shaggy blond Skinlin cast a doubtful look over his shoulder. Gabe kicked the door to the hall closed behind them. And for the first time in three years, I was alone with Jace. His face was interested and open, his eyes now bright blue. His tattoo shifted a little, thorny lines twisting.
“Dante—” he began.
My sword leaped half free of the scabbard, my arm tensing. “Don’t.”
His own hand drifted down, touched his swordhilt. “That’s what you want?”
“I won’t hold back,” I warned him. “Don’t push me, Jace. I’m on a hunt, and Gabe seems determined to bring every halfass mercenary in the world in on it. And I’ve been dragged through Hell for this, I even have to have a demon tag along with me.” I resheathed my blade, then reached up and dragged my shirt down, exposing a slice of the branded mark on my left shoulder.
“Fuck,” Jace breathed. “Dante—”
I let go of my shirt. “So don’t push me, Jace. Got it?”
The ceiling fans turned lazily, drafts of cooler air sliding across my skin. “I never did,” he said. “You were always the one pushing.”
“We’re old news, Jace. Get over it.” I turned away again, but was unable to resist a final parting shot. “At least the goddamn demon can’t betray me.”
He grabbed my arm, sinking his fingers in hard, his weight perfectly balanced. I recognized the stance—he was ready for me to attack him. I wondered grimly if I should. “I didn’t betray you. I would never betray you.”
I shrugged. My rings crackled in the tension, reacting uneasily with the Power in the air. “Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”
“No.”
“Get your—”
There was no warning. One moment I was yanking my arm away from Jace’s grip, screaming, and the next Jace stumbled back, sword ringing free, Japhrimel’s right hand up, arm outstretched, the shining gun held level. The demon was between us, his long black coat fuming with Power, the rumbling thunder of his arrival shattering the air inside the room. Jace’s defenses resounded, humming into life, crackling with Power, gathering like a cobra gathers itself to strike.
Dante Valentine Page 14
