by Eileen Wilks
“It might be,” Lily said, “if I had any idea what demon transfer meant.”
“Oh.” She glanced at Cullen, her eyes widening—then narrowing as she grinned. “You don’t know, either, do you? Ha. How about that. I know something the hotshot sorcerer doesn’t.”
He got even more polite. “Would you care to share your vast knowledge?”
“Put simply, demon transfer is when a demon takes something with it when it moves between realms.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Demons can’t move freely between the realms any more than we can. That’s why the hellgates were closed at the Purge—to keep the demons out. Seems to have worked.”
“Yes, but—”
“I haven’t noticed any demon hordes ravaging the countryside, have you?”
Cynna scowled. “Will you listen a minute? You may know all sorts of fancy spellcraft, but that’s not demonology. Demons vary a lot more than people do.”
“Six-year-olds who watch Saturday-morning cartoons know that much.”
“Maybe they don’t know that some demons can cross unsummoned and without a hellgate. Or maybe you should watch more Saturday-morning cartoons.”
“You know this for a fact?” Cullen snapped.
“I do. They can carry stuff with them, too.”
“Stuff?” Lily said. “Does that include people?”
Cynna grimaced. “I’d have to, ah, do a little research to find out for sure, but I think so.” Research she was not eager to attempt.
“What kind of research?”
Cullen waved a hand dismissively. “Your explanation requires a few big, fat maybes as well. Maybe this particular demon can cross unsummoned. Maybe demon transfer works on people as well as objects. Maybe it decided to take Rule along instead of Lily. Maybe—”
“The demon was here, so obviously it did cross. If you’d get your big, fat ego out of the way—”
“This isn’t about ego. We have to look at the facts, which you’re confusing with opinions. The demon—”
Lily spoke. “Shut. Up.”
Cynna turned to her, surprised.
The China doll looked like she was trying to stuff all sorts of messy emotions back down. “I don’t care who knows more than who, I don’t care who wins your little pissing contest, and I don’t want to waste time finding out.”
Shit. She was right. While Cynna made like the poor little misfit girl trying to get the cutest boy in class to notice her, Rule was trapped in hell. Maybe one of these days she’d grow up. “Sorry.”
Lily drew a deep breath and let it out. “It does make a difference how Rule ended up in hell. He’s either with what’s-her-name or he’s with the demon. But in the end, it doesn’t matter much. I might as well assume I’ll be dealing with a demon. There’s no way to plan for an encounter with Her.”
“Shit.” That came from Cullen. He looked like he was vibrating. “That’s what I was afraid of. What Isen was afraid of. That if you knew where Rule was you’d try to go after him.”
Lily looked at him as if he’d said something really stupid. She kept looking.
“All right. All right, I said!” He snapped that out as if she’d been arguing with him instead of just turning that flat, dark gaze on him. “I’ll help. I’m a double-damned idiot, but I’ll help you. For whatever good it will do,” he added gloomily. “I don’t know how to open a hellgate. I don’t know anyone who does.”
Cynna really, really didn’t want to say anything, but her mouth made a decision without consulting her brain. “I do.”
Cullen’s head swung toward her. “Who?”
In for a penny… She sighed. “Two people, actually. One who does know, and one who might be able to figure it out. That’s Abel. You know him,” she said to Cullen. “Abel Karonski. He can close leaks, and wouldn’t this be like doing the same thing in reverse? We don’t need a great big gate.”
His eyes narrowed as if he was totting things up mentally. Reluctantly he nodded. “It might work, if he’s capable of creative thought. Spells don’t reverse neatly.”
“No duh.”
Lily shook her head. “Karonski would be last-ditch. Aside from the fact that he’s in Virginia, he’s not going to agree. Opening a hellgate is illegal. Who’s the other person?”
“No one I want to talk to, if I can avoid it. She, ah, probably wouldn’t be happy about me tracking her down, and she might not help, anyway. And if she did, it would come with a price.”
For a few minutes, none of them spoke. Lily had herself back under control. Cynna couldn’t read a thing on that pretty face as she sat there, one finger tapping against her thigh. Finally she said, “I need to get out of here. I guess the things I was wearing are around somewhere.”
“I think your chums collected them as evidence,” Cullen said. “Evidence of what, I’m not sure, but they have a passion for plastic baggies.”
She grimaced. “There’s a gift shop downstairs, isn’t there? Would you see if—”
“No need,” Cynna said. “I’ve got that covered. Only where… oh, yeah.” She went to the door, where she’d dropped her tote upon being introduced to the cop with the Santa Claus face and the big gun. She snatched it, unzipped it, and pulled out a wrinkled T-shirt and the pants to her second-best gi. “They won’t fit,” she said apologetically, “but they’re better than nothing.”
For the first time, Lily smiled. It wasn’t much, but it was a smile. “You came prepared to bust me out.”
“Pretty much. Oh, here. You’ll need this to hold them up.” She pulled out her belt. Unlike the rest of the outfit, it was neatly folded.
Lily took it, a small V between her brows. “A brown belt. Judo? With those long legs, you’d be good at it.”
“Judo’s mostly defense. I’ve been told I’m offensive.” She grinned. “Tae kwon do. I don’t practice enough.”
“Brown’s nothing to apologize for.” She swung her legs to the side of the bed, managing to keep it modest in spite of the hospital gown’s shortcomings.
Cynna was hit with a nasty, rotten suspicion. “You do judo, don’t you?”
Lily nodded. She was so short her feet didn’t quite reach the floor, so she had to slide off the bed.
“What belt?” Cynna asked that even though she was sure she wouldn’t like the answer.
“Black. Second dan. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the tiny bathroom, the mismatched clothes over her arm. She moved slowly, as if she hurt, but Cynna was pretty sure an offer of help would get her snapped at.
Second dan—that was like second-degree black. Impressive as hell, dammit.
“Jealous, shetanni rakibu?” Cullen’s voice was lightly mocking.
Cold prickled up her spine, popping out in goose bumps on her arms. She wanted to rub them, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “It’s been a while since I heard that.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Then you were a demon rider. I thought so.”
What exactly did he think? How much did he know about shetanni rakibu? She asked very casually, “So where did you hear that title? It’s not exactly common knowledge.”
“I read a lot. Is it a demon you’re hoping not to consult about opening a wee little hellgate?”
“Dumb question. Most of them wouldn’t know how, either, or they’d do it. Seen any demon hordes ravaging the countryside lately?”
He surprised her by grinning. “Touché. If you’re not consulting a demon about the gate, it must be someone in this realm. You know a master, don’t you?”
“Everyone knows there aren’t any real demon masters.”
“Everyone knows there aren’t any real sorcerers.”
“You talk too much.”
“It’s part of my charm.” He moved closer. “Are you going to help?”
She needed to say no. Lord, but she did not want to go looking for Jiri. She wasn’t crazy about crossing into hell, either. “You didn’t want to do it.”
He snorted. “I’m a selfis
h sonofabitch. What’s your excuse?”
“That the whole idea is nuts?”
“Consider that a drawback, do you?” He glanced at the closed bathroom door. “She’s going. With or without my help or yours, she’ll find a way to go after him.”
“Yeah.” Cynna didn’t think Lily was fooling herself about the odds. They just weren’t a big factor in her decision.
What would it be like to have someone matter that much? To matter that much to someone?
Rule didn’t matter to her that way. She’d had some hopes about him, yeah. She’d wanted to be with him again, and not just because of the mind-boggling sex. Lord, the things a lupus could do… but that hadn’t been all of it. She’d wanted him to see who and what she’d become. To approve. It made her squirm to admit that, but it was true.
But Rule did matter. And she owed him.
Cullen moved closer. Close enough for her to see that he hadn’t shaved that morning. Close enough to see the darker rims around his irises, and the way his pulse beat in the hollow of his throat. “Even aside from opening the hellgate, you know more about Dis and demons than I do. Our chances would be better with you along.”
“That must have hurt, saying it out loud.”
“I’m tough. I can take it.” He ran his fingertips along the side of her neck. “What do you say?”
Her heart was pounding. He’d know it, too, dammit. “You offering me sex in exchange for tossing my career in the trash, maybe ending up in prison?”
He smiled into her eyes, and that was seduction more potent than the stroke of his fingers. “Think of it as a bonus. For both of us.”
She stepped back. It was harder than it should have been. “Do I have ‘idiot’ stamped on my forehead?”
The bathroom door opened. Cynna glanced that way… and had to bite her lip.
“Did your mommy give you permission to play dress-up, little girl?” Cullen asked.
“Shut up, Cullen.” Lily shuffled out.
Cynna’s lips twitched. “Sorry. I should’ve stopped and picked up something in your size.”
Lily flipped one hand, dismissing it. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s get me checked out.”
“You could just leave.” Cynna kind of liked the idea of smuggling her out.
“I need to get my prescription first. I don’t have time to deal with an infection.” She made it to the chair, lowered herself, and reached for the buzzer to call the nurse. Then she faced Cynna. “I need to make plans, and to do that, I need to know where you stand. The Bureau is not going to investigate Rule’s disappearance. They aren’t going to like it if we do.”
“No duh.” Cynna frowned. “It bugs me, though. Ruben made it sound certain-sure that Rule was dead, but he’s not stupid. He had to realize that wasn’t a sure thing. Well, when we tell him what we’ve figured out, he’ll—”
“We won’t be telling him.”
“Huh? Wait a minute. Wait. I didn’t agree to hold out on Ruben. I can see why you’re suspicious, but you’re wrong.”
“You’ve worked for him a while.”
“Long enough to be certain-sure he’s righteous. Shit, if I had half his integrity I could count on a straight shot to heaven when the time comes.”
“Ah… you believe in heaven?”
“Hey, I’m a good little Catholic girl now.” A stab of honesty made her add, “Or at least I’m Catholic. Which reminds me.” She reached for her tote again.
“Let’s say Ruben’s as straight as you think he is,” Lily said as Cynna bent and rummaged in her tote. “That doesn’t mean he can turn a blind eye to what I’m planning. Even if he were willing to do that, someone wants Rule declared dead and the case closed. Someone who can either persuade or order Ruben to go along.”
“Sure. The Big Dick. Oh, here it is.” Cynna grabbed the little paper sack and straightened.
Cullen nodded. “I see. The FBI has a master penis. That explains a lot.”
Cynna grinned. “He’d like to think so. Dick Hayes is the acting director. I don’t think he’s bent, exactly. He’s just an asshole. Here.” She came up to Lily, dug into the sack, and held out a little cross on a gold chain.
Lily flinched.
Cynna drew it back, her forehead wrinkling. “I take it you aren’t Christian.”
“It’s not that. I’m not sure what I am, but…” She blinked quickly, but Cynna had seen the sheen in her eyes. One hand went to her throat. “Rule’s necklace is missing. I… it may not turn up, but I’m not going to wear another one in its place. Not yet.”
“The toltoi isn’t just from Rule,” Cullen said in a low voice.
Lily gave a single nod and left her head down, her hair screening her face.
Better give her a minute, Cynna thought. The tied-down ones hated it when they came apart with someone watching. She turned to Cullen. “What about you? I’ve got an extra.” The one she’d gotten for Rule. “It’s been blessed and all.”
His eyebrows sketched skepticism. “Doesn’t the effectiveness of holy symbols depend on the faith of the wielder?”
“Partly, but not altogether. It makes a difference what kind of demon you’re dealing with. Some don’t respond to holy symbols at all. Ah… someone I know thinks it depends on what kind of pacts the demon’s lord has with the various Powers. Demons are big on deals.”
“Interesting theory.” Cullen accepted the necklace and dribbled it from one hand to the other, frowning as if he were considering some weighty question. “When did you…” His voice drifted off as the door opened.
It was the ponytail nurse, and she was not happy about a patient checking out against doctor’s orders. It was in-teresting to watch Lily handle her. She didn’t get angry. Ponytail and the hospital weren’t important enough to get angry over. She gave the facts: She was leaving. She wanted her prescription. They could bring her some papers to sign if they liked, but they had to do it quickly because she wasn’t waiting.
It was amazing how well not arguing worked. Cynna resolved to try it sometime.
When the nurse huffed out the door, Lily leveled that steady gaze on Cynna. “If you’re not going to Find this person yourself, I need the name.”
Some people had such a clear grasp of right and wrong. Cynna envied them. Finding the moral highroad out of a welter of possible paths was always a struggle for her. It would be wrong to lie to Ruben. She was sure of that. And opening a hellgate—pretty much everyone would tell her that was wrong.
But it was wrong to leave Rule in hell. It was wrong to turn her back, pretend she couldn’t do anything to help— and giving them Jiri’s name and description wouldn’t help. They’d never find her.
Another memory swam to the surface. The remembered voice was soft, male, and irritated. He’d been dying at the time. “Stop talking of paying back. Is no back. Only now. Only on.”
That settled her. Paying it on couldn’t mean turning away. “What the hell. I’m in.”
TWENTY-SIX
THE huge eyes blinked.
She came back to herself with a jolt, knowing time had passed. How much? She didn’t know. Seconds. A day.
Never mind. She scrambled to her feet, moving because she could. Because, whatever happened, she wanted to meet it on her feet. She put out a hand. Rule was there. Without having to look, she’d known that he’d come up beside her. She rested her hand on his back.
Had he been trapped by the dragon’s gaze, too?
The lupus didn’t look into my eyes. The demon knew better, but did it anyway.
The dragon hadn’t spoken. Those great jaws hadn’t opened or the mouth moved. The words had just appeared in her mind, sharp as glass—thoughts, but not her thoughts.
But that was impossible. She was a sensitive. Magic couldn’t—
Yet I can. I am dragon.
With those words came a sense of something beyond arrogance. Power, perhaps. A vast, knowing power.
Vocalize. Your thoughts are mush. Forcing them into the sort of speech you ar
e accustomed to gives them a small degree of clarity.
Her heart was trying to knock its way out of her chest. “Are we conversing, then?”
Rather than dining, you mean? Amusement, desert-dry, gusted through her mind. When I hunger, I hunt. I don’t have dinner fetched.
“Why did you have us fetched?”
Utility. Politics. Curiosity. The great head lowered in a graceful arc.
She jumped back. Her bad ankle gave out, dumping her ingloriously on her butt. Rule didn’t move, but his fur bristled. Gan squealed in terror.
But the movement didn’t signal a change of mind about the dragon’s dinner plans. It seemed to be settling in for a chat. It rested its head on its tail like a cat curling up for a nap, leaving the three of them entirely circled by dragon.
That long body gave off a lot of heat, she realized. That’s why the sand was so warm. “That didn’t really answer my question. Why did you bring us here?”
It has been many moons since I’ve seen a human. And never have I seen one linked to both a lupus and a demon. Most curious. How did you become half-souled?
“If you mean how did I lose my memory—I don’t remember.”
Those eyes blinked again. Ah. You didn’t know. Its gaze shifted to the quivering lump of demon fifteen feet away. Your demon didn’t tell you.
“Not my demon,” she muttered. “A demon. Not mine.”
Rule’s head swung toward her, as if she’d surprised him. Then he looked at Gan, growling.
“Don’t listen to the dragon,” Gan said. Its attempt at bravado was cancelled by the way it crouched with both arms over its head, as if that would protect it from the dragon’s jaws. “He doesn’t know anything about it. Besides, he can lie. I can’t. Who are you going to believe?”
She snorted. “You lie all the time.”
That annoyed it so much its arms fell away from its head. “No, I don’t! I can’t lie. Everyone knows what I mean even if I say something else. That’s how it works.”
“You may not tell out-and-out whoppers, but you lie by misdirection. Not all that well, actually, because you’ve never learned to manage your face. Maybe demons aren’t used to reading expressions for clues because you all pick up each other’s meanings. By picking your words carefully, though, you can mean what you say and still be lying.”
