by Anne Bishop
“Sebastian,” one of the succubi purred. “Join us. Rule the Den with us. This is your only chance.”
Sweat beaded his forehead. They moved toward him, shoulder-to-shoulder, their matched steps a sinuous dance humans could never imitate. And behind them a crowd was growing, their faces dark with ugly emotions.
“I already rule the Den,” Sebastian said, each word an effort of will. How long could he hold out against them? How long before the lure of being glutted by emotions became impossible to resist?
“He rules the Den,” an incubus said, mocking. Its eyes glittered with malice as it turned its head slightly to address the crowd. “He’s the one standing in the way of your pleasure. He’s the one preventing you from getting what you deserve.” The incubus looked at Sebastian. “He’s the one who needs to be eliminated.”
Mutters from the crowd as the men moved closer, spreading out to surround him. “Run him off!” “Show him who’s really in charge!” “Bastard thinks he can make the rules and tell me what to do? Bury him!”
Sebastian stared at the four purebloods. During the hours he’d spent searching for them, they had fed the dark emotions of the Den’s visitors. Now those men were convinced there was nothing wrong with killing him in return for all the pleasures that had been promised to them. Pleasures that would end up killing them.
He felt the crowd stir, glanced around quickly. Some of the men were holding broken chair legs as clubs. Some held pocketknives. All it would take was one lunging at him to have them all trying to tear him apart. Even if the Den’s residents jumped into the fight to help him, people would get hurt. Some might even die.
The purebloods knew he’d killed one of them. They wouldn’t risk themselves when the humans would do this ugly bit of work for them. But they were still trying to lure him in, make him vulnerable to every kind of attack.
Sebastian.
Why was he resisting? He couldn’t quite remember.
He took a step toward the purebloods.
Sebastian!
Love turned fierce in its desperation to reach him blazed through him, freeing him from the purebloods’ thrall. He knew the feel of that love, the heat of it, the passion that came from that heart.
Lynnea!
The wizard’s power rose up in him, tingled in his fingertips—a cold fire that came from an icy clarity of mind rather than the heat of emotions.
“I protect the Den,” he said, raising his voice to reach the crowd as he stared at the purebloods. “You are a threat to the people here, to all the people of Ephemera. You are killers and must be destroyed. Justice demands it.”
The purebloods snarled. The crowd surged toward him.
He raised his hand, pointed at the purebloods—and unleashed the lightning.
Jagged streaks of power, blinding white, hit all four of them. Enveloped them. Blazed through them.
Burned them.
They screamed, unable to escape the power. The men who had been surging toward him suddenly fell over one another in their haste to get away from him.
Even after the purebloods lay dead in the street, an echo of their screams seemed to linger.
No one spoke; no one moved.
He looked at the crowd. The thrall had died with the purebloods. Now the men’s faces held nothing but fear—of him.
“Leave the Den,” he told them. “Don’t come back.”
They scrambled to their feet, scurried in the direction of whatever bridge would take them back to their home landscapes. He watched them until the last man was out of sight. Then he turned to face the courtyard.
Fear in Teaser’s eyes, in Philo’s. Even the bull demons looked at him in fear. But Lynnea…
Maybe she didn’t understand what he was. Maybe she didn’t care. All he felt from her was relief…and love.
“Daylight, Sebastian,” Teaser finally said, his voice rising to a pitch close to hysterical. “You’re a wizard!”
He rubbed his right thumb over the tips of his fingers, feeling the slight tingle of that cold magic. And he remembered something Aunt Nadia had said once.
There are two kinds of wizards. Many enjoy the fawning and attention that is given them out of fear. But there are others who use their power in the name of justice to protect people from the things that would truly do them harm.
“No,” he said, looking at Philo, then at Teaser. “I’m not a wizard. I’m a Justice Maker.”
Chapter Eighteen
Dalton watched Henley and Addison set up the tents near the wagon that held their supplies. No point sleeping on the ground, exposed to the whims of weather, when they didn’t have to. And they were close enough to Wizard City that he could send a man back every other day for fresh food.
Faran would live. The surgeon was hopeful that the man wouldn’t lose the leg and that the rest of the limbs, numbed by the venom, would fully recover. But the surgeon was less hopeful that the injured leg would ever be strong enough to support the demands of a guard’s duties. So Faran would be given a season’s pay as compensation and would be cast out to build a new life suitable for a partially crippled man.
“Cap’n?” Addison said, approaching him. “Tents are up. We’re going to water the horses, then picket them to let them graze.”
Dalton looked past Addison’s shoulder, unwilling to look the man in the eye. “That’s fine.”
Addison sighed. “You did what you could, Cap’n. We all know you argued to keep Faran on the ledger, leastwise until he was healed up and could know for sure if he had to give up the guards. But maybe it’s for the best. Bad times are coming. We all know it. So maybe Faran will be better off going back to some country village and taking up a different line of work. He’s a good man with horses. Has a way with them. And he was never comfortable with the rough side of a guard’s life. Too much a gentleman.” He paused, then added, “Like you.”
Flattered and embarrassed, Dalton looked at the other man. “Thank you.”
Addison scuffed the ground with one foot. “I’d best go help Henley with the horses.”
Dalton waited until the guard walked away before turning to study the planks of wood that crossed the little creek. Guy and Darby had the first watch. He’d keep the watches short in the daylight hours to relieve the fatigue of boredom. The night watch…He’d take the night watch. Not alone. He wasn’t a fool. But he could relieve his men of some of the tedium of waiting for Koltak’s return—and share their fear that something besides Koltak would cross over that bridge.
Sebastian wrapped his arms around Lynnea, pulling her up against him.
Laughing, she pushed at his chest in a halfhearted effort to get away. “Haven’t you had enough?”
“I’ll never have enough of you.”
When they’d gotten back to the bordello, they’d made love for hours. She hadn’t given him a chance to evade. And what choice did he have when she’d squirmed on top of him, wearing nothing but her skin and a smile—a combination of sultry and wholesome that sent his libido into a fever of lust? He took, he gave. She took, she gave.
And somehow, in the hours when he’d slept after the loving, the jagged pieces of himself had shifted until they fit together instead of scraping against one another.
“Well, you’ve had enough of me for the moment,” Lynnea said, giving him her best no-nonsense look. “I’ve got to get to work, and you’ve got to meet with Philo.”
His contentment faded as he thought about the folded piece of paper that had been pushed under his door, requesting a meeting. He knew why Philo wanted to talk to him.
“What’s the matter?” Lynnea asked. “What’s wrong with Philo wanting to talk to you?”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Incubi are welcome in the Den of Iniquity. Wizards aren’t.”
She stiffened. Did she finally realize why everyone had become so uneasy after he’d killed the purebloods?
When she pushed at his chest, he let her go, let her step back from him.
Then
he looked at her face and took a step back himself. Outrage. Fury. His little rabbit was spitting mad and ready to take a swing at someone. Anyone.
“Lynnea.” He tried for soothing, placating. If that didn’t work, he’d sink to pleading. Maybe.
She bounced. Her hands curled into fists, and she…bounced.
Oh, damn the daylight.
“You’re the same person you were before. Now they want you to leave because you have a power that can defend them against bad things? What kind of idiots run the businesses in this place? What kind of morons live here?”
She marched to the door and flung it open before he gathered his wits enough to try to stop her.
Unfortunately, Teaser picked exactly the wrong moment to open his door and step into the corridor.
“Are you an idiot?” Lynnea shouted, jabbing a finger into the incubus’s chest. “Are you a moron? Have you exchanged your brains for a bag of manure?”
“What’d I do?” Teaser said, raising his hands in surrender. Since Lynnea was already marching for the stairs at a fast clip, he turned to Sebastian. “What’d I do?”
“She’s on a tear.”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing. Just…” He dug in his pocket and handed his key to Teaser. “Lock up the room for me, will you? I’ve got to stop her before she does something stupid.”
“Like punch a bull demon in the nose?”
He wasn’t going to consider the possibility.
He raced down the stairs—and still wasn’t fast enough to stop her before she got out of the building.
He caught up to her before she got to Philo’s but couldn’t think of any way to stop her without causing a scene that would be the talk of the Den for years to come.
“Lynnea, wait.”
She marched through the courtyard, flung open the door to the indoor dining room, and stopped so abruptly he rammed into her back and had to grab her shoulders to keep her from falling.
At least, that was the excuse he was going to use for holding on to her.
Philo wasn’t the only one waiting for him. Hastings and Mr. Finch also sat at a table. Wasn’t that wonderful? Exile by committee. Not that Philo or anyone else really had a choice about his staying. He anchored the Den. Didn’t matter if they considered him incubus, wizard, or human, he had to stay. And they had to accept it. The Den’s survival depended on it.
“Lynnea,” Philo said, “maybe you’d like to go into the kitchen and—”
She bounced.
“You want her to go into the kitchen?” Sebastian said, unable to hide his disbelief. “Where there are sharp things?”
Philo looked at Lynnea—and paled. “Ah. A chair, perhaps?” He pointed at the empty chair at the table.
Sebastian shook his head—one sharp little movement. Until his rabbit calmed down, he wasn’t letting her near anything she could pick up and use as a weapon.
“Well, then.” Philo pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his forehead. He looked at Hastings and Mr. Finch, who both nodded. “Well. The thing is, Sebastian, after those…creatures…were disposed of, the merchants and business owners got together and talked things over. If you’re going to be protecting the Den from now on, you should be compensated. Like…wages.”
“All the businesses would put in a percentage of their take each month,” Hastings added. “Some credit slips, some coin. A place like the bordello would just reduce the rent on your room for their share.”
“Besides,” Philo said, glancing nervously at Lynnea, “we all sort of figured you’d retired from your previous occupation.”
That was the truth. If he’d had any doubts about being Lynnea’s exclusive lover, he was sure of it now after seeing her in a full-blown mad.
Suddenly her body relaxed. She cocked her head. “You want Sebastian to be like a law enforcer in a village?”
“Yes,” Mr. Finch chirped. “Exactly.”
Sebastian reluctantly let go of her as she turned to face him.
Her blue eyes still flashed with temper. “They wanted to talk to you about protecting the Den, and you thought they wanted you to leave. You moron.”
He yelped when she reached up and pulled his ears to bring his head down. The hard kiss on the mouth was nice, but didn’t quite make up for getting his ears pulled.
Then she walked out of the dining room.
“Any bets that she’ll scare the customers into eating all their vegetables?” Sebastian asked.
“Wouldn’t take the bet,” Hastings replied. “Not today.” He looked at Sebastian and frowned. “Why did you think we’d want you to leave?”
“I’m a wizard.”
“Justice Maker,” Mr. Finch chirped.
He studied the three men. “Are you serious about this offer?”
Philo chuckled. “A badass incubus wizard as the Den’s law enforcer and Justice Maker. What could be more perfect?”
Chapter Nineteen
With Jeb beside her, carrying a carpetbag and grumbling about the foolishness of making this visit, Nadia switched the basket she’d brought from one hand to the other and continued walking up the main street of the Den of Iniquity. Bursts of music and voices came from various buildings as the doors of taverns and music halls opened and closed. The colored globes on the poles turned the streetlights into something festive instead of providing mundane illumination. It made her think of the seedier part of a harvest fair—the tents and booths that most of the people who attended a fair didn’t realize existed. There was an edginess here, and enough resonance of mean to rub at the grain of doubt that had lodged in her heart during the past few days.
“Don’t see why we couldn’t have left this at the cottage,” Jeb grumbled.
“It didn’t look like anyone was staying at the cottage,” Nadia replied, trying to ignore the uneasiness she’d felt when she’d realized Sebastian had abandoned the place he’d called home for the past ten years. “I want to see how Lynnea is getting on, that’s all. And I wanted to see the Den.”
“It’s been here a few years now,” Jeb said, looking at her with the awareness of a man who’d been awakened too many times in the past few nights when the dreams had plagued her. “Any reason you felt the need to see it now?”
Every reason. But she wouldn’t say those words out loud, wouldn’t give them that much weight. For fifteen years, she had maintained an unshakable faith that Glorianna was not a deadly, dangerous creature, as the wizards claimed. When Glorianna had shaped the Den of Iniquity and altered the way Ephemera’s landscapes flowed into one another so that several of the demon landscapes were connected to one another, Nadia had trusted that her daughter, so gifted in her power, had seen some need other Landscapers couldn’t.
For fifteen years she had trusted, because to do less might have shaken Glorianna’s faith that she had her mother’s support—and Glorianna was already too alone in the world. Now a grain of doubt was wearing away at that trust, and she had to see, had to know what kind of dark landscape had been made of this place.
“First-timers?” a voice asked, pulling Nadia out of her thoughts.
The blond-haired man watching them had the cocky grin of an appealing troublemaker, but when she got close enough, she detected a bruised wariness in his blue eyes.
“Why do you think we’re first-timers?” Jeb asked, sounding defensive.
The cocky grin took on a hint of mean. “Got the look of it. So…”
Those blue eyes never left her face, but she could have sworn she’d been stroked from breasts to hips, and his hands knew every curve she had. Except for Sebastian, she’d never met an incubus, but she was certain she was looking at one now. The experience was…unsettling…in a way that made her feel ripe and female.
“Who’s your friend?” the incubus asked.
“I’m the lady’s friend,” Jeb growled.
Nadia blinked. Had she just heard Jeb—solid, reliable Jeb—claim her like some meaty bone? As if some young man, even if
he was an incubus, would have any interest in having a romp between the sheets with a woman old enough to be his mother.
She looked into those blue eyes again—and felt her heart flutter and her face heat. Guardians and Guides, he was interested!
“We’re here to visit my nephew,” she said firmly, ready to blame the streetlights or the walk here to justify any blaze of embarrassment coloring her face. When he smirked, making it clear he heard variations of that statement all the time, she added, “Sebastian.”
The incubus jumped as if she’d whacked him with a broom.
“You’re Sebastian’s auntie?” His voice rose to a squeak.
“I am.”
“Daylight!”
“Who are you?”
“Teaser. Ma’am. Auntie, ma’am.” He looked around, his expression on the edge of desperate. “Here, now, why don’t I take you up to Philo’s, and then I’ll have a look around for Sebastian. He’s here somewhere. Better be,” he added under his breath.
He was even more appealing when he was flustered, Nadia decided as she and Jeb followed the incubus down the street. More…human in a way she understood. And more comfortable to be around.
“What about Lynnea?” Nadia asked. “Where is she?”
“At Philo’s,” Teaser replied.
“Is she well?”
“She’s doing fine. Gets pretty scrappy if I leave the towels on the bathroom floor or forget to rinse out the tub. Do all human women get scrappy about things like that if you’re not giving them sex?” Teaser paused. “Of course, she gets scrappy about those things with Sebastian, and he is giving her sex. Uh…”
Nadia sighed. Before he’d known she was Sebastian’s aunt, he would have said all kinds of things to her. Now just the mention of sex had him blushing like a schoolboy. “Being an aunt doesn’t make me less of a woman,” she muttered.
“It’s different,” Teaser muttered in return.
“How?”
