“Succubi pheromones?”
“Yeah.”
It was Chaz’ turn to shake his head. They’d made it to the island and found themselves alone for a moment. He poured a generous amount of sangria for her and topped off his own. “Much as I hate to admit it, Elly, they’re doing it because your brother’s kind of a hottie.”
She made a face and took another long gulp. “How do people do it? Parties, I mean. Everyone all crowded in, everything so loud you can’t hear yourself think. How do they know if . . . Mmph.” Another sip.
When she put her glass down, he covered her wrist gently. The lack of a flinch on her part spoke volumes about how much she’d had to drink so far. That, and her cat ears had fallen askew. She wasn’t slurring yet, or swaying, or (thank God) stabbing, but her defenses were lowered. “Maybe you want to go easy on those, huh? Lia puts like half a bottle of brandy in there.”
“It’s this or go hide in a closet,” she said. “Or . . .” She lifted her sleeve enough to show the point of the spike strapped to her arm.
“Right, yeah.” He hoped it wouldn’t get to that point. That was when Justin came wandering in, his get me out of here face relaxing when he saw Chaz and Elly. “There you are,” he said to the space somewhere between the two of them. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“What’s the matter, buddy?” His fangs weren’t showing, which was a good sign. Val wouldn’t have let him come out if she didn’t think he could handle it—he’d been going to school and working at the store since his turning, so it wasn’t like he’d been people-deprived. Still, Chaz didn’t know what could have him looking so damned freaked otherwise.
“They’re all offering condolences. The people from the college. Sunny’s friends don’t know me, but Lia’s do. And I just, I can’t . . .” His elbows thudded on the counter as he leaned down.
Elly edged over to him, so carefully that Chaz didn’t quite dare move, for fear she’d retreat if he did. She laid a hand on Justin’s arm. Patted it stiffly, like a toddler first learning how to interact with the family pet. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and the two shared a look of mute terror borne of social interaction.
“Tell you what,” Chaz said. “Fill up a couple plates, grab your drinks, and go on up to the spare bedroom. Justin, you know where it is.” He nodded. He’d stayed here for a few days while they were still trying to de-Jackal him. “Hang out in there, watch a movie, play some cards, whatever. I’ll cover for you and come get you when it’s time for cleanup duty.” He and Val always stayed after the last guests left, to help clear away plates and wrap up food. Chaz didn’t mind; Sunny and Lia loaded him up with leftovers to bring home.
“You sure?” asked Justin. “No one will get mad?”
“I’ll deal with them if they do. Go ahead, no one will even see you if you go up the back staircase.”
Now that they had a plan and permission, Elly and Justin moved fast. Drinks, check; heaping piles of food, check; and an escape up the stairs that no one noticed except for Chaz. So intent were they on getting the hell away from the party, they forgot to be awkward at each other. Mission accomplished, thought Chaz.
He leaned against the counter and wondered whether that was his good deed for the day, or if he ought to wait around and see if Cavale gave him get me out of here signals. He decided to give it two more minutes. After all, he had the sangria to himself.
14
COACH GINA HAD finally left him alone after another half hour of chatting. Cavale had seen Elly and Justin sneak upstairs, and noticed Chaz hanging out by the sangria bowl. He’d talked to whoever came into the kitchen for food or refills, but the way he never left Cavale’s line of sight . . . They couldn’t stand each other, but Cavale had the distinct impression the lanky bookseller was offering his silent services as wingman.
Not that Cavale needed them, really—he had no intention of going home with any of the guests, but he was all right with the attention. He’d had flings over the years, never anything serious. With Elly home now, though, the two of them feeling each other out, it wasn’t the time to start a new one.
The party started winding down around one thirty, and by two fifteen, only the traditional cleanup crew—himself, Val, Chaz, Justin, and Elly—remained. While the tidying up got under way, Chaz had gone upstairs to summon Elly and Justin.
Cavale looked up as Elly came tromping down the front stairs now. That she made any noise at all telegraphed her distress, though her face gave no hint of anything being wrong. He passed the trash bag he’d been holding open to Val and moved to intercept. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” She forced a smile that fell just shy of a snarl.
“That’s a lie. Did something happen up there?” Justin might look snappable as a twig, but he was a vampire, with all the strength that went with it. Elly could take out a Creep with her eyes closed—probably had, for all Cavale knew—but those circumstances were always clear-cut. See a Creep, kill it. If her vampire-protégé-slash-friend had gotten handsy . . .
“Nothing happened,” she said, and that wasn’t a lie. “He was a perfect gentleman. Is there coffee? Chaz said there was coffee.” She moved him gently but firmly out of her way and set off for the kitchen.
Justin drifted down the stairs on Chaz’ heels, wearing a hangdog expression. When he saw Cavale eyeing him, he flinched. He kept Chaz between them until the landing opened out, then fled toward Val.
“Dude,” said Chaz, pausing on the step above Cavale so they were eye to eye. “I don’t know if vampires can have heart attacks or not, but keep glaring at Justin like that and we might find out.” There was no malice in his voice, only the normal amount of smarm, tinged with sangria.
Elly slunk back into the living room, clutching a steaming cup of coffee. Lia—still green, still crowned, but sans torch and book—joined her for a quiet conversation. Cavale couldn’t make out the words, but he saw the tension leave Elly’s shoulders. She snuck a shy peek at Justin, her lips quirking into a goofy little grin. That, combined with the way Lia leaned in conspiratorially after, her pale green hair blocking both their faces, made the last puzzle piece fall into place. “Oh.” She’s upset because she wanted something to happen, and nothing did.
“Look who finally boarded a bus to Cluetown,” said Chaz.
He resisted the urge to throttle. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her like that.”
“I’m guessing, with what you two have been through, a long time is more like never.” He held up a hand. “That’s not an insult, buddy. I’m saying I see kids mooning over each other all the damned time at the store. You probably don’t. And from what you two have shared about how you grew up, I doubt it was a frequent topic of conversation at your dinner table.”
It was a point Cavale had to concede.
“They’ll be fine,” said Chaz. His gaze flicked to a point behind Cavale’s shoulder, and Cavale turned to see Val standing behind him. She’d lost the cowboy hat but hadn’t quite given up the swagger.
“Are you two up to no good?” she asked, flashing her sheriff’s star.
“I was just talking our juvenile delinquent friend here out of toilet-papering the neighborhood, ma’am,” said Chaz.
“Yeah, because that’s . . . something I’d ever do.” He knew it was banter, that he should’ve rolled with it—take advantage of the rare occasion of Chaz not being an utter shit. But in hindsight the suggestion that Chaz knew Elly better than he did, even the tiniest bit, rankled, and he wasn’t feeling charitable.
“Well, I’m taking you both in for questioning anyway. Captain Marvel over there wants to take your statements.”
“It’s Wonder Woman,” called Sunny. “You own a bookstore, at least spend enough time with your comics to know DC from Marvel.”
“Val doesn’t want us reading comic books at the register.” Chaz stepped d
own past Cavale. “So I would have no way of knowing that Captain Marvel’s a woman now. At least Val got that right.”
“A hot blond woman,” Sunny said, and scowled. “Damn it, Lia, we have to do Halloween over. You need to be Captain Marvel.”
“I’ll be Captain Marvel later,” said Lia, crossing the room to slip her arm around Sunny’s waist. “Just for you.” She leaned down and whispered something that made Sunny squeak.
“Right,” said the now-flustered succubus. “Chaz filled us in on the ghouls. You need to tell us about the . . . the symbol . . . thing.”
Cavale came to Sunny’s rescue, snatching up a discarded slip of paper from the earlier spooky charades game. On the back of Creature from the Black Lagoon, he sketched Udrai’s sigil.
Sunny and Lia went quiet. They’d been poking at each other, giggling and snickering as he drew. Now he looked into their somber faces, and for the first time since he’d known them, he saw fear.
When that hunter—lowercase h, arrogant, amateur shithead—had come to Edgewood looking to make a name for himself by killing them a few years back, they’d been more annoyed than anything. Inconvenienced, sure. Worried their cover would be blown and they’d have to leave town, definitely. But afraid? No.
Sunny squeezed Lia’s hand so hard her knuckles went white. Lia curled herself around Sunny, like she needed to shield her from the scrap of paper. The smaller woman shook her head, as though she could deny the symbol’s existence. She closed her eyes like a child counting to ten to make the boogeyman go away, to make the monster crouched in the corner turn back into a heap of toys on a chair. It was a tactic Cavale had heard on daytime talk shows, not something he’d ever been taught himself; Father Value had told them the horrors in the shadows were probably real.
Seemed Sunny was having one of those moments herself. Her eyes popped open, and she stared at the sigil with dread.
“Udrai,” Lia said, swallowing like her mouth had gone suddenly dry.
“His servant, I think.” Cavale folded the page, hiding the sigil from view. Sunny stared at it anyway, unable to look elsewhere. “Did he have priests? People dedicated to him?”
They exchanged a glance. Sunny said, “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s been a long time. We . . . we can’t let him find us.” She’d gone pale. One hand fluttered mothlike to her mouth to cover a sob. The superhero illusion was gone, only a costume now on a frightened young woman. And considering that that frightened young woman could literally turn into a seven-foot killing machine, Cavale felt his own fear stir.
“Shh, now. It’s all right.” Lia sank onto the couch and tugged Sunny down beside her. She kept a protective arm around her as she spoke. “Justin, be a dear and bring us the whiskey and some cups? Let’s all sit, now, and talk about this.”
Justin did as he was asked; Chaz went with him. While they waited for the two to return, Val sat on Sunny’s other side and held her hand. Elly paced behind Cavale. Eventually, Chaz came back with the coffeepot on a tray, cups and spoons, cream and sugar neatly balanced around the carafe. Justin followed, cradling a bottle of Irish whiskey.
Chaz poured and passed out the cups. At Lia’s signal, Sunny’s was whiskey with a splash of coffee rather than the other way around.
“She’s right; if he finds us, we’re screwed,” said Lia.
“Is he looking for you?” asked Val. “Do you think that’s why he’s here? Or his servant?”
“No. He’s not who our old, uh, boss would send after us, if he’s put out a call. But if Udrai stumbles across us, he’d know that knowledge would be valuable.” Lia stroked Sunny’s hair as she spoke. “The question is whether he’d make us an offer first, see if we can pay him to keep his mouth shut, or go straight home and sell it to the highest bidder.”
That wasn’t in the books. “Who is he? What I found said he was in service to Ereshkigal, but not whether he was a god or some favorite devotee,” said Cavale.
“He’s an opportunist.” Sunny finally lifted her head. Hate filled her eyes. “First and foremost, he’ll be looking out for number one.” She sat up straighter, downed the contents of her mug. “He’s a godling. Lady Ereshkigal raised him up through the ranks, as it were, promoted him right past plenty of people who’d been currying her favor for centuries. No one really knew why, or where he came from. He had a few priests. A couple of shrines. None of them big enough to piss off the real gods, but he ruffled feathers all the same. New guy gets a stake in the soul game, people get upset.”
“‘The soul game’?”
“He’s a death god. It’s part of his job, but . . . Udrai made deals. Makes.”
“Don’t want to die?” said Lia. “Make him an offer.”
“Want someone else to die?” added Sunny. “Make him an offer.”
Chaz scratched his chin. “So what’s that have to do with you two? Did you have someone whacked so you could escape?”
Lia shook her head. “No. But we weren’t free to go, either. We’re not godlings like he is. We’re not anyone’s favored. We’re a pair of demons on a god’s long-ass roster of underlings, that’s it.”
“We were,” said Sunny softly.
“Were. When we left, we didn’t tell anyone we were going. We just . . . didn’t come back.”
“And that can’t have gone over well.”
“If Udrai finds out we’re here . . . It’s a small underworld. He’ll know someone who knows a guy who can get word to our old boss. He gets paid, they send in the troops, we get dragged home.”
Cavale imagined demons marching on Edgewood. The people surrounding him now were good, but they wouldn’t be able to hold out against even a handful of demons whose skills matched Sunny and Lia’s. Chances were, they’d send more than a handful. “If there’s any good news to this,” he said, “it’s that we’re not dealing with Udrai himself. The ghost I talked to yesterday said he wasn’t the one in control.”
“If someone’s acting in his name, it’s just a matter of time until he shows up,” said Lia. “He guards his power closely. We’ll do what we can to help you, but it’s going to have to be on the down low. I’m sorry. We can’t take the risk.” Spots of red crept onto her green cheeks. Anger, embarrassment, shame.
“Of course not.” Val scooted closer to get her arm around both women. “We don’t expect you to. Whatever you can do, we appreciate.”
“Right now, I just want to go to bed,” said Sunny. Tears glittered in her eyes. “You guys go home. Please. We’ll finish cleaning up in the morning.”
* * *
OUTSIDE, THEY STOOD around Cavale’s car and watched the lights go out in the succubi’s home, one by one until the front of the house was dark.
Val and Justin had plunked down on the curb. Elly resumed her pacing along the sidewalk, her forehead furrowed in deep concentration. Chaz leaned against Cavale’s car in a way that would’ve had him in fits if anyone did the same to his Mustang. Cavale himself hovered in among them. He didn’t quite feel Elly’s need for constant motion, but sitting still wasn’t an option, either. The cold might not bother the vampires, but neither was he going to macho it out like Chaz.
Chaz, with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I’ve never seen them scared before,” he said, echoing Cavale’s earlier thoughts.
“They’ve never needed to be,” said Val. “All these years, I’ve been the only other game in town. Anyone coming by looking for a monster to kill was going to twig on the pale nocturnal bookseller before they ever even looked at these two.”
“So, what, you were their shield?” Justin looked around uneasily, as though a swarm of hunters might come slinking out from between the suburban homes. As though he weren’t flanked by two already, not counting his maker.
“Not in so many words, but sure. The concept has to have crossed their minds at some po
int. They’re just too polite to say it out loud.”
“Except last time someone did come, they had no idea you existed.” Chaz lost the battle for stoicism and blew on his fingers. “They came gunning right for the succubi.”
“Different circumstances. Lia placed a ward wrong and it tipped him off. He knew something demonic lived here, but not what. Not who.”
Cavale nodded, remembering the events from a few years back. The flawed ward had been like a beacon to magic-users; he’d felt it all the way over in Crow’s Neck, like a faucet dripping in another part of the house. It was what led him to protecting Sunny and Lia, and meeting Val and Chaz. The only thing that had surprised him about Lia’s mistake was that it hadn’t drawn more rubberneckers. “That guy was an amateur. They needed our help with him the same way you ask someone to help you get rid of, I don’t know, a moldy couch. Unpleasant but not life-threatening.”
“But they’re not being threatened now.” Elly paused in her pacing. “This necromancer, he’s seen the five of us if his ghouls and ghosts and goddamned possessed vampires are reporting back, but Sunny and Lia haven’t been there. So our job is to keep it that way, yeah? Try not to lead any of his thralls to their doorstep and he’ll never know they’re here. So if his boss shows up, he won’t know, either. Problem solved. Right?”
“Theoretically. The faster we can get rid of the necromancer, the better.”
“Get rid of him how, though? If he could mask himself against your scrying, our next option’s a house-to-house search. I don’t think that’s going to go over very big with the locals.”
Cavale had filled them in via e-mail after his encounter the night before. Much as he tried to hold on to his Luddite ways, he had to admit it was a handy medium. Not to be technologically outdone, Elly’d followed up with a report about the rogue Stregoi. He’d found her composing it in bed when he’d stopped by her room to say good night. Face lit only by the screen, thumbs flying as she typed, she’d looked almost the way he pictured normal young women her age might after a night on the town with friends.
Grave Matters Page 18
