Smoke and Ashes

by Tanya Huff

  “I have a question!” Perched on the edge of CB’s desk, Amy waved her hand above her head, the charms hanging off the polished bicycle chain she wore wrapped around one wrist glinting under the fluorescent lights. “How does one become a demonic consultant? Exactly?”

  Amy hadn’t been included in the “we” when CB’d growled, “We need to talk.” When those who’d been involved in the battle—plus Lee who’d arrived on the scene before anyone thought to adjust the story—followed CB into his office—where followed, in Tony’s case, meant hanging off Jack’s arm and more or less putting one foot in front of the other—she’d invited herself along, dragging Zev behind her. Tony was glad they were there. Although the odds were good Zev would have understood, keeping Amy out of the loop had limited survivability, and even CB seemed to realize it would be easier in the long run to let her stay.

  “I have a better question,” Constable Danvers sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Who the hell is going to believe all that damage in the soundstage was caused by a deranged fan?”

  “Drugged fan,” Lee corrected. He’d suggested the cover story.

  “Whatever. Drugged, deranged; no one will buy it.”

  “Mason did,” Lee reminded her. Mason had been thrilled to think that one of his fans had gone berserk and trashed the soundstage. Mason was thrilled to believe pretty much anything that made it all about him.

  “Once Mason starts talking about it,” CB explained, “everyone else will believe it, too.”

  “Like he’ll give them a choice,” Amy snorted.

  CB nodded. “My point exactly. You should use the tools you have to hand.”

  Everyone turned to look at Tony.

  “You calling me a tool?” he roused himself enough to mutter.

  “Yes.”

  So much for humor.

  “I shall sum up, then.” CB leaned back in his chair which creaked alarmingly under his bulk. “We are in the midst of a Demonic Convergence of indeterminate length. The demons are attracted to this building because of…”

  Tony hoped no one had noticed the slight pause—where no one referred to the RCMP officers who hadn’t been told about the gate or Arra or the Shadowlord when they were told about what had happened in the house. Given that they’d been standing on the front lawn when the heavens opened, the story of the house had been unavoidable, but—so far—Tony’d managed to avoid filling in the whole metaphysical backstory.

  “…the residual energy; energy most likely connected to Mr. Foster’s abilities.”

  That’s right. Make it believable. Blame me.

  “Ms. Burnett,” CB continued, “who has made a study of demonology…”

  No one seemed to have any trouble believing in a stuntwoman as a student of demonology.

  “…just happened to have recently contacted Mr. Foster to inform him about this Demonic Convergence and to instruct him on how to return said demons to the hell they came from—although, as circumstances have forced Mr. Foster to fry both demons he has already faced, whether or not he can return them remains theoretical.”

  Tony rubbed the bandage on his shoulder. Nothing much about this seemed theoretical to him. His whole body ached.

  “Because both demons have been reduced to ash, we have no proof should we decide to make the story public, so rather than be mocked by those who have not shared our experiences, we are maintaining that today’s incident was caused by a drugged fan of Mason Reed’s. Constables Danvers and Elson will support that story in their reports.”

  “I can’t believe we’re going to falsify a report!” Constable Danvers punctuated each word by banging the back of her head against the wall.

  CB laid both hands flat on his desk. The fingers of the left hand started to tremble. Muscles tensed in the arm the demon had dislocated and Jack had snapped back, and the trembling stopped. “Given that you arrived here in an official capacity, the report is unavoidable. You may, of course, choose to tell the truth.”

  Danvers looked at CB, she looked around the room, and, finally, she looked at her partner. Who shrugged. Jack had been remarkably quiet since he’d brought up the point about multiple demons. Tony wondered what he was thinking. His partner seemed to be wondering the same, but after a long moment, she sighed and muttered, “Fine. But what happens if these things go public? You know, suddenly show up on the six o’clock news climbing the Lions Gate Bridge?”

  “They don’t show up on camera,” Leah told her.

  “Why not?”

  “They don’t have souls.”

  “What?”

  “A camera steals a piece of your soul,” Leah explained. “Demons have no souls, so they don’t show up on camera.”

  “That’s total bullshit.”

  A raised hand cut off the murmur of agreement. Leah leaned toward the constable, smiling slightly. “Why don’t demons show up on camera, then?”

  “Because they…I mean, they…” When no one seemed willing to help, Danvers’ shoulders sagged. “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.” Bang. Bang. Bang against the wall.

  Jack reached out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping the motion. Once she’d stilled, he stepped past her, swept a narrow-eyed gaze around the room—which would have been more effective had most of the people in the room not recognized it as having been inserted for effect—and finally locked his eyes on CB. “As long as demons are attracted to your soundstage, for whatever reason…”

  Translating the emphasis, Tony could see another “talk” with the constable in his future. Probably accompanied by shouting.

  “…you’ll have to close the studio.”

  Zev hummed a few portentous bars of music under his breath.

  Amy moved off CB’s desk and out of the line of fire as the producer smiled. “I have an episode and a half of a show still to shoot, Constable. I have to do no such thing.”

  “People are going to get hurt. Someone’s already been hurt. Someone besides Tony.”

  “It was the gaffer,” Tony murmured. “He’s the guy who sets the lights to get the effect the DP wants,” he expanded when Jack turned to glare. “When things get weird, it’s good to hold onto the stuff you know. Not you, personally,” he added quickly. “Us you.”

  “Did you get hit on the head?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Check.” Jack’s attention relocked on CB. “Your gaffer’s nose is broken. He’s on his way to the hospital. You were lucky no one was seriously hurt. Or killed. You’re closing the studio.”

  “I am contractually obligated to provide twenty-two episodes of Darkest Night within a specific time frame,” CB told him. “If I close the studio, this won’t happen, and we will be in violation of our contract. There will be no season two. My people will be let go. Most will not be able to find new work as many of the network shows that were filming in Vancouver have moved back across the border.”

  “So you think your ‘people’…”

  That was the most sarcastic set of air quotes Tony had ever seen.

  “…would rather be exposed to demonic attacks than unemployment?”

  “Speaking as one of his people…” Perched now on an arm of the couch, Amy waved again. “…definitely.”

  “You are not the average employee,” Jack pointed out.

  “I am,” Zev broke in before Amy could respond. He shuffled forward to the edge of the couch cushion. “I vote we finish the season.”

  Jack stared at the music director for a long moment. “Why are you even here?” he asked.

  A nod toward Amy. “I came in with her.”

  “That’s not helping your case, you know that, right?”

  “Yes, but…” He winced and fell silent as Amy smacked him on the arm.

  “And,” Jack continued, “as I understand things, neither of you spend much time out on the soundstage where the demons are going to be.”

  “I do.” Lee rose slowly off his end of the couch and moved until he stood face-to-face
with Jack. “And I say we don’t close the studio.”

  Tony had a feeling that, right at that moment, Lee would say black if Jack said white. He cleared his throat and was more or less gratified when it drew everyone’s attention back to him. “Look, I’m going to be here anyway…” He tried to sit forward like Zev had, found he didn’t have the energy, figured screw it as he fell back, sagging slightly into the warmth Lee had left. “…and it would be a lot easier on me if I didn’t have to waste time and energy…” A short rest for emphasis before he finished. “…keeping friends and coworkers from being eaten while I deal.”

  “Eaten?” Amy and Zev together. Lee came in a little late.

  “We’ve got a dead guy without an arm in the morgue. Killed by a demon who ate the arm.” Jack folded his arms triumphantly.

  He didn’t know the arm hadn’t been eaten, and since he was helping Tony make his point, Tony wasn’t planning on mentioning it.

  “So…” CB steepled his fingers and peered over the mahogany triangle at his TAD. “You think I should close the studio.”

  “No.” Leah jumped in before Tony could get his mouth open. “I don’t think you should close the studio.” She stood and spread her hands, looking earnest. “We don’t know how long the Demonic Convergence will last.” Tossing her hair back over her shoulders, she adjusted her posture subtly. “There’s no reason to risk putting so many people out of work. Tony will be here. I’ve taught him everything he needs to know.”

  The simple statement sounded pornographic.

  Lee, who was closest to her, made a sound low in his throat. CB and Jack leaned in.

  Ryne Cyratane flexed translucent muscles and ran his hands down Leah’s arms.

  “Then it’s settled.” CB’s voice slipped past Barry White and headed toward registering on the Richter scale. “We’ll keep the studio open.”

  Jack nodded, absently drying his palms on his thighs. “That sounds reasonable.”

  “Nothing about this sounds reasonable,” Danvers muttered. “What the hell are you talking about, Jack?”

  “She’s the demonic consultant.” A nod and an appreciative smile toward Leah. “We’re out of our depth—we should listen to her.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  Charms chimed as Amy waved. “I’d like to second that, except I want the studio open, so I won’t.”

  All right. Enough was enough. If Leah didn’t want her secrets told to all and sundry, she needed to lay off taking advantage of all and sundry. Tony frowned at Lee. Especially this particular sundry. “She’s using demonic sex appeal to convince you.”

  Leah’s dark eyes widened, and her lower lip went out. “Tony!”

  “Do you have proof of this accusation, Mr. Foster?”

  “No, but…”

  “Then don’t make it.”

  “Hello! Wizard!” He tried to stand and fell back onto the couch. His second attempt was more successful but only because Zev helped. “Okay. Wizard. Let’s assume I know more about what’s going on here than…” The room shifted out of focus and back in again. “…than not-wizards, okay? And let’s assume that I can…” Whoa. His head felt like a raw egg balanced on a strand of cooked spaghetti. “…I can…”

  “You can barely stand, Tony.” Lee didn’t sound particularly sympathetic, but then Lee was as enthralled by Leah as Jack and CB.

  Okay, forget the room. Focus on Lee’s face. You’re good at that. He was. But it had never been so hard before. His brain attempted to toss in a smutty innuendo but didn’t quite manage it. “Behind her…there’s a big…a big naked…”

  On naked, Lee turned his attention back to Leah.

  Crap.

  Tony’s knees gave out, and Zev was a second late keeping his head from bouncing off the floor of CB’s office.

  “That sounded like it hurt.” Amy frowned down at him.

  Way to state the obvious.

  “He needs to see a doctor.”

  Constable Danvers was rapidly becoming one of Tony’s favorite people.

  “No, he just needs rest. A Powershot uses a lot of personal energy, and that’s not something a doctor can fix. No wonder he’s babbling.” Leah sounded convincing. Tony would have been more convinced if, when his head fell to one side, he hadn’t been looking through a bare foot. An enormous bare foot.

  “What happens if another demon attacks before he recovers?” Jack demanded.

  “We’re screwed.”

  Tony wondered if he was the only one who heard, You’re screwed.

  “I can shoot it.”

  “That’s sweet, but bullets will only slow it down. All you can do is hope Tony recovers and that from now on, he does things my way.”

  Tony was starting to think Leah had some serious control issues. He closed his fingers around Zev’s wrist. “All…about…sex.”

  As darkness claimed him, he heard CB snort. “Welcome to the wonderful world of television, Mr. Foster.”

  He came to, stretched out on the couch in CB’s office, all his attention on the vegetable soup in a Styrofoam bowl steaming on the coffee table beside him. Ignoring the spoon, he grabbed it with shaking hands and downed it in four swallows. Or, more accurately, three, since a good portion of the fourth he coughed out his nose.

  A familiar hand passed over a wad of paper napkins.

  “Where’s everyone gone?” he asked when he could talk.

  “Back to work.” Ryne Cyratane had vanished and Leah looked no more than normally attractive. “Your friends on the force have reports to file and a nonexistent drugged fan to pretend to track down. Your coworkers are finishing the day’s pages—well, except for Mason Reed, who leaked news of the incident to the press and is now giving interviews.”

  Tony snorted out an alphabet noodle; an F or maybe an E deformed by its passage through his sinuses. “The studio’s staying open.”

  “Yes.”

  “The demons will come here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because the gate is putting out the kind of residual power that attracts them more powerfully than you do.”

  “Yes.”

  “If there’re people in the studio, the demon won’t just check out the gate, realize it’s not you, and go hunting as instructed by its boss. It’ll try for a snack and make itself obvious. If it’s distracted by a meal, it’ll be easier for me to send it home.” His subconscious had put the pieces together while he’d been out. “You’re setting up the people here as bait.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then she smiled. “Only during business hours. Your vampire can still deal with it after dark. More soup?”

  “Sure.” Tony drank, slower this time, and considered his options. His brain felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire. It hurt to think and, as far as he could tell, he didn’t actually seem to have any options. Sucked to be him. “I could tell them.”

  “About what?”

  “About them being bait. About you being a Demongate. About the Demonlord’s plan to kill you and take over the world. I could tell them everything.”

  “And that would accomplish what?” she asked reasonably, crossing the office and perching on the edge of the coffee table so she could stare earnestly into his face. “CB has very good reasons for not shutting the studio down. I agreed with him, so I helped him convince your friend Jack. Yes, your crew will be in a bit of danger, but if you get your head out of your butt and learn how to deal with the demons, it’s all incidental anyway. You’ll send them back before they do any damage.”

  “Yeah, tell that to Ritz.”

  “Who?”

  “The gaffer.” He waved at his nose.

  “Your gaffer’s name is Ritz?”

  “Probably not, but that’s what he goes by.”

  “Right.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you’d been here, instead of at my place…”

  “I was protecting you!”

  Leah ignored him. “…Ritz wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

&n
bsp; “So what happened was my fault?”

  “It was no one’s fault.” Leaning forward, she patted his knee. “Tony, this is working out perfectly. The gate obviously has a more powerful signature than I do or that demon wouldn’t have come here first.”

  First. He frowned. First? “That wasn’t the first demon.”

  Leah wrapped a curl around a finger. “Well, no, but…”

  “And the first demon didn’t come here first.”

  “Ah!” She held up a cautioning finger. “We don’t know that.”

  “It killed a guy, ripped off his arm, and then came after you.”

  “It probably came to the studio at night when there was no one here, then it found my scent at the stunt site where it killed the construction worker. It was the next day before it found me. If there’d been a wizard in the studio prepared to send it back…” Her voice trailed off dramatically.

  “I’m seeing a problem with that.”

  “I’m not saying it was your fault that man died.”

  “Yeah. Bite me. Let’s consider the word ‘probably.’”

  She frowned as she went back over what she’d said. Then she rolled her eyes. “Fine. But the second demon definitely came here first—even though we drove right by it—so the odds are certainly in favor of the first demon having done the same thing. Demons at this level aren’t known for independent thought. They’re just big scary, scaly killing machines. Fortunately, this lot has been given a mission, so there’s less random killing.”

  “That’s comforting.” Tony’s head hurt, his shoulder was throbbing, the soup had barely taken the edge off his hunger, and at some point while he was in la-la land, his torn and bloody clothes had been replaced by geek wear off the costume rack. He couldn’t decide if he was pissed off, resigned, or just hungry, and he was doing it all while wearing polyester. “So I’ll be sitting under the gate, 24/7 until the convergence is over.”

  “You’ll have breaks between demons. It takes time to divert enough convergent energy to get a demon through even a thinned barrier, and I can’t imagine that my lord will be able to pop them out any closer together.”