So?
So the way people like Carly get fiend-touched is by consorting with fiends. And archfiends like Uzkiel do their best work in the dark.
Oh, bother. Abby hurried her steps, still trying to avoid making too much noise. That makes me wonder, though. If fiends aren’t supposed to be able to go out in the dark, how come I could? I mean, you’re a fiend.
Yeah, but I’m only a little evil. She could practically feel him shrug. I’m a minor fiend. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I come from a long line of imps. We’re less in the business of evil for the sake of evil than we are in the habit of picking the wrong side in any contest of wills. If I told you how much I’ve lost in the football pool over the years . . .
So, because you’re not bent on an existence of willful destruction and mayhem, I don’t burst into flames?
Pretty much. If you stayed outside too long, you’d get a hell of a bad burn, but no, spontaneous combustion ain’t in the cards for you.
Abby passed the room she’d exited a few minutes ago—at least, she was pretty sure it was the same room—and kept walking. She still couldn’t see more than five feet ahead of her, but the hall seemed pretty straight, and since she’d only seen doors in the one side of it, she guessed she was walking along the outside wall of whatever building she was in. The lack of windows pretty much guaranteed that it was either a nuclear fallout shelter or a basement. Judging by the lack of canned goods and army surplus blankets, she’d put her money on the basement theory. And where there were basements, eventually there would be stairs.
“Ah-ha!” she breathed. There they were, at the end of the hallway, just three feet ahead. She’d been right. She should have turned left. “Ground floor. Coats, shoes, ladies’ lingerie.”
Placing one hand on the cold surface of a chipped metal handrail, Abby began to climb.
Wait! Did you hear that?
“Hear what?”
Would you keep your voice down! I thought I heard something.
Abby paused for a moment, then resumed climbing. I didn’t hear anything.
I could have sworn I heard something.
Well, if you heard it, I should have, too, and I didn’t hear anything.
You must be tone-deaf as well as night-blind. Listen. No, wait! Sniff!
Sniff? What do I look like, a bloodhound?
Don’t tell me you can’t smell that.
Smell what? Abby inhaled deeply and had to struggle against the urge to cough as her lungs flooded with probably toxic mold spores. All I smell is a bad case of black lung waiting to happen.
I smell sulfur.
She froze. What?
I smell sulfur, Lou repeated, and it’s getting stronger the higher we climb. There’s a fiend up there. At least one. I think we should go back the way we came.
Abby tried to steady her heartbeat. For one horrible instant, her mind had gone blank with panic, but panic wasn’t going to get her out of there, let alone get her out of there with all her limbs and her soul intact.
There’s no point in going back the way we came. It’s a dead end. If we go back there, we’re trapped.
There was another door in the room. Maybe it leads to a rear exit.
We’re in a basement, Lou. In order to get out, we’re going to have to go up. Personally, I’d rather not take the chance of getting lost in what looked like a maze of identical rooms.
And I’d rather not take the chance of getting my head ripped from my body and used as a Hacky Sack.
Abby swallowed hard and tried to grin. What are you worried about? It’s my head.
Yeah, well, I’m using it at the moment.
She grew serious and leaned her weight on the handrail. This is the way out, Lou. Either we can try it and see where it leads, or we can go back and sit in that little room until someone comes to strap us to the sacrificial altar. I don’t know about you, but if I’m going to wind up dead, I’d rather meet the situation head-on, not wait for it to come get me like some kind of boogeyman.
Trust me. The boogeyman is a pussycat compared to Uzkiel.
Dead is dead.
Yeah, but there’s dead fast and painless and then there’s dead at the hands of the cruelest fiend in the Underworld.
It still equals not breathing, right?
Lou fell silent, and Abby unclenched her fingers from the handrail. She might be all bluster and logic with the fiend inside her head, but she was all adrenaline and terror everywhere else.
You realize I can hear what you’re thinking, right?
Keep your mind to yourself, she groused, and resumed the climb.
She counted twenty steps before she stopped. Maybe she was becoming hypersensitive, but she had begun to pick up the soft sound of the soles of her sneakers each time they landed on a stair tread. The steps might be concrete rather than creaky wood, but that didn’t matter if whatever waited at the top could hear the pitter-patter of her little feet. Keeping one hand on the railing, she raised her right foot to the next step and leaned down.
What are you doing now?
My brother always said there was a reason Native American raiding parties didn’t wear Nikes.
She untied the laces and removed the sneaker, shivering when her foot touched the cold surface of the floor. Even through her thick athletic socks, the concrete chilled her. She carefully repeated the process on the other foot, then tied the laces of the two shoes together and dangled them over her shoulder.
Now she just had to hope Noah’s advice was enough to save her bacon.
Her brother was ten years older than her, so she barely remembered him before he’d left home to enlist. By the time she’d really gotten to know him, he was already a soldier, and some of her fondest memories were of times when he’d played “guerrilla fighter” with her, much to their mother’s dismay.
Do whatever you can to make yourself quiet, he’d said, helping Abby pick her way through the woods behind their house and seeing how far she could go without scaring the rabbits. Take off anything that jingles, like belts or jewelry, and go barefoot if you can. Feet make less noise than shoes. But once you’ve got your gear quiet, remember not to try too hard. No one makes more noise than a fellow who’s trying to make none.
All at once, she wished desperately that Noah were here with her. If her brother had been nearby, he would have taken care of her. She wouldn’t have been half so frightened if she’d had Noah to lean on.
Or at least one of his really big guns.
Bullets don’t do much good against the armies of darkness. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?
Maybe not, but even in this neighborhood, if I fired an AK-47, you could bet someone would call the cops. It never hurts to bring in reinforcements.
Cops don’t do much good with demons, either.
Gee, thanks, Little Miss Mary Sunshine. And you called me a downer.
She continued to climb, wondering how long this stairway could possibly last. It seemed as if she’d climbed at least a flight, but she hadn’t even reached a landing, let alone the next level.
Oh, by the way, Lou said, his tone suspiciously casual, there’s one thing I should probably mention.
Abby scowled. What thing?
That spell I know . . . the one Uzkiel is after . . .
The one that will enable the destruction of all that’s good and decent in the universe?
Yeah, that one.
What about it?
Well, I can’t teach it to you, ’cause that would kill me, which seems really stupid considering all the trouble I’ve gone to not to die. But I’ve been thinking. . . .
That frightens me.
I’ve been thinking that if you knew the first part of it, like the first word, you’d be able to tell if it was coming.
Abby froze. Why would I need to know if it’s coming, Lou? If you recite the spell, you and I will both die, right? So why would it matter if I had five more seconds to prepare?
Because. If we’ve gotta go, wouldn’t you want to take Uzkie
l with us?
That wasn’t a question she wanted to answer. She wanted too much to live to care about who she took with her when she died.
The minute she thought that, she knew it was a lie. Yes, she wanted to stay alive, but she wanted Rule to stay alive, too. And Noah and Samantha and Tess and Rafe and Missy, and even Graham, even if she’d never met him, because Missy loved him and because her latest baby should grow up knowing its daddy.
Abby closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the impulse to cry. Now was not the time to break down. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?
Sure. Whatever.
Heart heavy in her chest, Abby resumed her climb. She had to keep going. Like she’d said, their chances of escape might be slim, but that didn’t mean she could stop trying.
Abby?
Yeah?
It’s “Spirits.” If you follow along and say it with me, Uzkiel won’t stand a chance.
And, she knew, neither would they.
She felt her throat knot up. Yeah. Okay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Rule gritted his teeth and tried not to notice that the alley behind the club had already begun to fall into shadow. Dusk was less than an hour away, and he still hadn’t managed to locate any sign of Abby’s trail. He and Tobias and two seasoned Lupine trackers had combed the alley and the entire block around the club three times but had turned up nothing.
“If she hadn’t used a car, maybe,” one of the trackers had said, looking apologetic. “Or if she had a mechanical problem. But the car was clean. No leaks, no burnt rubber. A Lupine would know we could track those, so she made sure there weren’t any. I’m sorry.”
Rule didn’t want an apology; he wanted blood. Not the tracker’s, maybe, but Carly’s definitely, and that of anyone else who stood between him and Abby.
“There’s still a chance Rafe will be able to get those duty logs,” Tobias murmured, coming to stand beside him in the diminishing light. “He should be back any minute. And every Other officer on the force is out looking for Carly’s car. The minute they find it, we’ll know. I swear.”
Rule just nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. He’d lost the ability hours ago. Now he knew that if he opened his mouth, the only thing to emerge would be a primitive, earsplitting howl of rage.
The Lupine jerked his head toward the club’s rear entrance. “Let’s go inside. We’re not finding anything out here, and Rafe and Tess should be back soon.”
Reluctantly, Rule let himself be led inside. His helplessness maddened him. He commanded an army in the Below, planned strategy, and executed operations. Entire squadrons jumped at his faintest word, and no one dared to disobey his orders. He answered to the prime minister and the prime minister only. And yet here Rule could not even protect his own woman.
He felt Abby’s absence like a raw, bleeding wound in his chest. A huge part of him had been torn away, a part so new he should barely have noticed the difference, yet here he was, struggling for his next breath. For the next beat of his heart. Their relationship was still new. Hell, it practically still had the dew on, yet if this was a sample of what his life would be like without her, he knew he wanted no part of it.
Never fall in love with a mortal.
The advice served as a mantra to his kind, as well as to others like him, the Fae, and even to vampires, to a certain extent. No one wanted to live forever and yet watch the one they loved age and die before their eyes. No heart, mortal or immortal, had been designed to withstand that kind of trauma. It had never occurred to Rule that he would one day have to face such a decision. There was no turning his back on this relationship now, but in forty or fifty or sixty years, when Abby’s lifetime ended, he would have to decide whether or not he could go on without her.
He’d never imagined the decision would be so easy. He’d already made it.
Abby was his life. When hers ended, so would his. And since he planned on living a good long time to come, he was damned well going to get her back tonight.
Rule and Tobias stepped into the club’s main hall and nearly bumped into Tess hurrying down it in their direction. The expression on her face made his heart flip inside his chest.
“What did you find?” he demanded, sprinting the last few steps toward her.
“The old Hudson Shipping and Mercantile Building.” She grinned. “It’s not right on the water, but Claire got in within a few blocks. It’s one of the few old buildings left after the Battery Park City Authority got done with the neighborhood. Even they weren’t willing to take the place on.”
Rule grabbed her by the arm and spun her toward the front entrance. “You can tell me why not in the car. Tobias, get in touch with Rafe,” Rule yelled over his shoulder. “Tell him where we’re going and have him meet us there. Get the same message to Noah. Then gather whoever you can and follow us. Keep it quiet if you can and meet us one block east so we can set a plan. I want everyone there in twenty minutes.”
“Done!”
Rule grabbed a coat from the closet and threw it at her. He had no idea if it was actually hers, and he didn’t care. Across the hall, he barged into Graham’s office and grabbed his scabbard and sword and the small utility pack he’d stored there out of respect for Graham’s policy of no weapons in the club.
“Rule,” Tess protested, yanking the coat off her head where it had landed, “it’s rush hour. It’s going to take at least forty-five minutes to get down to that part of the city.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He grabbed her again and dragged her out the door. She barely managed to grab her purse on the way out. “You’re a witch. Get us a cab. Now.”
Tess scowled at him. “Normally I’d tell you to shove it, because this is so against the rules. But these are extenuating circumstances.” She furrowed her brow, closed her eyes, and chanted something under her breath. Five seconds later a very bewildered-looking cabbie pulled to a stop at the curb in front of them. “I’ll try to get the traffic and the lights, too, but there’s only so much you can do in this town, even with magic. If we fiddle with too many lights, we’re going to get broadsided, and then we won’t be any good to Abby anyway.”
“Fine. Whatever.” He shoved her into the cab and climbed in beside her. “Tell the driver where to go, make him do it fast, then fill me in on where we’re headed.”
“Wow, that debonair charm of yours makes it easy to see why Abby finds you irresistible,” Tess grumbled, but she followed his orders, and just then that was all that mattered.
“The building,” he prompted.
“Right.” She settled back against the seat of the cab, half-turned to face him. “It was originally built in 1841 as warehouses and offices for the Hudson Shipping and Mercantile Company. The business belonged to a fellow named Isaiah Horner and his partner, Jonas Chapman. Apparently, these guys made their first fortune in the slave trade, but they saw which way the wind was blowing before the Civil War and tried to clean up their act by switching to coffee and cocoa. And a bit of opium.”
“Much more respectable.”
“Exactly. Anyway, they built the warehouse to store their goods, and rumors were that they dug a two-level basement under it to store some of their less legal imports. Including the last couple of cargoes of slaves they couldn’t resist cashing in on.”
“So there were deaths in the building?”
“Where slavers were involved, there were always deaths, but that was only the beginning of the building’s shining history. Horner and Chapman went bankrupt just before the end of the Civil War. Apparently, they were convinced the South would remain independent and become a lucrative trading partner for them.” Tess shook her head. “Not the brightest souls in the history books. When they had a little trouble unloading the property to pay off their creditors, they decided to pioneer that old classic scam, arson-for-the-insurance-payout.”
Rule could see where this was headed, especially since Claire had made clear the place had more th
an its share of negative energy. “Let me guess. They didn’t wait until it was empty, did they?”
“Not a chance. Torched the thing in the middle of a shift for the sailmakers they’d leased the space to. A hundred and thirteen people died, mostly immigrant women and kids.”
“Dare I hope that was the extent of it?”
“Oh, you optimist, you. Just the beginning. Since that original fire, the building has gone up in flames three more times. Every time there have been fatalities, but strangely enough, the structure has never been damaged badly enough to warrant tearing the place down. It’s also been the site of two suicides, both during the Great Depression, and at least one murder, in the early fifties. And in 1972 the police found evidence of a bunch of idiots playing at summoning using the old living-sacrifice trick.”
He winced. “Human?”
“The police only ever found evidence of animal bones, but one of the cult members claimed they’d killed a woman. He was diagnosed schizophrenic and delusional, so they pretty much ignored him, but given the history . . .”
“Yes. Uzkiel should feel right at home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
By the time she reached the top of the stairway, Abby could smell the sulfur, too. It filled her nose with its rotting stench and made the task of breathing singularly unpleasant.
Okay, I can smell it now. Do you hear anything that I don’t?
I’m not a guard dog, the fiend snapped.
Don’t yell at me. I’m just trying to save our asses. Well, my ass and your whatever you call your non-corporeal backside.
Abby knew it was the tension making them snap at each other, and to tell the truth, she preferred it to being alone with only her own thoughts for company. At least the sniping gave her something else to focus on, other than the knot in her throat and the grinding in her stomach.
She pressed her back against the wall and peered into the darkness. The difference between her own night vision and Lou’s had been startling at first, but now that she’d grown used to seeing with his acuity, she realized the pitch blackness of the building they were in looked dark even to him. She could see no more than about five feet in any direction, and the inky space beyond that point had taken on a sinister quality that made the hair on her arms stand on end.
The Demon You Know Page 24
