In the Demon's Company (Demon's Assistant Book 2)

by Tori Centanni

  “Fair enough,” I say.

  Cam unfolds the paper and reads it.

  “He’s probably at one of those places,” I say. “And Myron definitely knows where he lives.”

  He nods, sharply, and walks back to his car.

  Guilt takes a few laps through me but I don’t have bandwidth to brood on it. I run inside, grab the mail, and head back upstairs.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I check my phone every few minutes as I work on an essay about the motifs in The Great Gatsby, complete with supporting quotes and reasons why I, personally, feel they worked. Cam doesn’t send anything to indicate the job is done and it makes me itchy. I need to get out of this apartment. I need to know what’s happening.

  I regret sending Cam in my place for any number of reasons but first and foremost is that I’d rather do it myself.

  The apartment buzzer rings and I jump up, accidentally knocking my book on the floor. I race into hall. Dad isn’t in the living room anymore, but when I lean into the room further, I see him out on our small balcony. He’s talking on the phone, pacing the small space. Probably a work call. I try to remember the last time he had a personal call or anything to do that wasn’t related to family or his job, and I realize I can’t. It hits me like a train that he and I are the same in a lot of ways. We both ran from our grief. He just picked the more literal method.

  The buzzer phone sounds again and I pick it up.

  “It’s me.” Cam’s voice but it’s gravely and rough. Panic slides into my stomach. “Let me up.”

  I hit the button to unlock the front door. I’d go down and meet him but we’d probably just miss each other in the elevator. When I open the door for him, I gasp, heart slamming into my chest.

  Cam looks terrible. He’s not wearing his glasses and he has a giant brown and yellow bruise flowering over one cheek. His blond hair is mussed and bent to one side and his lip is swollen and split. He’s shaking slightly and his cheeks are flushed.

  “What happened?” I stammer. I’ve never seen Cam look so rattled, let alone injured.

  “What do you think?” he asks, sarcastically. “Demon bullshit.”

  I glance back but Dad is still out on the balcony.

  Cam exhales slowly, like he’s trying to rein in his fury. “Can we…” he nods down the hall to my room.

  I hesitate. I don’t want to interrupt Dad on a work call but I don’t want to surprise him by having Cam pop out of my room, either, as I doubt that’d go over well with me being grounded. But Cam’s obviously hurt. He’ll have to understand.

  I grab Cam’s hand, noticing the knuckles are cracked and bleeding, and drag him to the bathroom instead. I leave the door open and turn on the light, so it spills into the hall, a sign to Dad that I’m not hiding anything. I pull first aid supplies out of the cabinet beneath the sink. In the white bathroom light, I notice red in his hair and gasp. He has blood in his hair. A lump forms in my throat. I gently touch the hair near the blood. He winces.

  “It’s just a little cut,” he says, looking me in the eye. “Head wounds bleed a lot.”

  I push a wad of cotton to the top of a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

  “Well?” I ask, impatient and too scared to hear it at the same time. “What happened?”

  “I told you, demons,” he says, the anger wafting off him more fiercely than cold off of Xanan. After a pause, his shoulders sink and some of the tension deflates. “I was leaving Gabriel’s place—that’s where he was, by the way, at home, ignoring his phone like an asshole—when this guy the size of a freight train walked up and punched me in the jaw.” He moves his jaw, touching it gingerly, and winces. I take his hand and press the cotton to the cuts on his knuckles. He hisses slightly at the pain but doesn’t pull away.

  “And you hit him back?” I ask, impressed, because I can’t picture Cam punching someone. I have no doubt he’s willing and capable but it’s hard to really get a clear mental image of something like that when the Cam I know would stand in front of a gun before he’d shoot one.

  Cam shrugs, annoyed by my surprise. “Wasn’t just going to take it. But then he knocked off my glasses and punched me in the eye and slammed me into the brick wall.” He swallows, his undamaged hand going up to his head where the blood stains his hair.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “The demon told him to.” He shudders. “Azmos has nothing on this woman, Nic. She’s terrifying. The way she smiled, I was pretty sure she was going to eat my face.”

  “That sounds like her,” I say, remembering the wild look in her eyes.

  I dab at the bruise, but I don’t think antiseptic will do that any good, so I toss the cotton ball away. I grab the box of bandages and wrap Cam’s knuckles. His fingers are hot and I reach up to feel his forehead.

  “Just adrenaline.” But his words are stiff, hard.

  “Cam, I’m so, so—”

  “Don’t.”

  I freeze, waiting for the rant. He was just beat up by a demon’s henchman, so he has every right to be angry about it.

  Instead, he pulls me down to him and kisses me. I can taste dried blood on his lips but I don’t mind. The kiss is passionate, desperate, and leaves me gasping. But then he pushes me away, tries to get to his feet, and then stumbles back down. He huffs out a breath.

  “I shouldn’t have gone,” he says, focused on the tile behind me. “I knew better than to do your job for you.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked.” It’s my way of apologizing but he does not acknowledge it. Then a thought occurs to me: he was leaving Gabriel’s place, which means Vessa knows where Gabriel lives. “Is Gabriel okay?”

  Cam frowns, a small crease appearing in his brow. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “He was inside.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” Cam meets my eyes, giving me that ‘don’t bullshit me’ look of his. “He’s been dealing with demons and the arcane for a lot longer than we have. I’m sure he’s better at defending himself than he looks, though. When I left his place, he was wearing boxers and a robe and looked like he was going to pass out standing up.”

  Sadly, that sounds about right. “Wait, he was wearing boxers?” I waggle my eyebrows, hoping to diffuse more of the tension.

  Cam rolls his eyes, not amused. “He’d dragged himself out of bed to get the door. I felt bad waking the guy. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “Still. I’ll call Az and make sure he made it to the warehouse.” And next time I see Gabriel, I’m demanding a phone number.

  I finish all the first aid I can manage. The scrapes and bruises on his face just need time to heal. Even as we’ve talked, a purple bruise around his left eye has darkened. He’s going to look pretty bad for a couple of days. I think of Anna, slashed across her stomach, and a horrible thought occurs to me. One I don’t even want to give voice to, but I have to ask.

  “She didn’t… give you a contract, did she?” I ask. It’s the most delicate way I can phrase it.

  Cam shakes his head sharply. “She was going to.” He shudders, a tremor that racks his whole body. “I told her I was Azmos’ assistant and that’s the only thing that stopped her.” He spits the words, but doesn’t let go of my hand. In other words, she thought he was like me: one of Azmos’ assistants. “She gave me a message for him and said next time, she won’t be so merciful.”

  I feel nauseated. I put Cam in danger. He’s hurt and he could have been killed and it’s my fault. I’ve never felt more like puking in my life but he’s sitting on the toilet, so I swallow back the acid.

  “The worst part is, it’s not even really a lie. I was out there, doing the damn demon’s bidding. I practically work for him.” Cam balls his knuckles into fists, reopening the cuts on his hand so red seeps through the bandages. Seeing him like this—hurt and so angry he’s shaking—is physically painful. My stomach ties itself in knots.

  “What was the message?” I manage to ask.

  “That she wants Azmos to swear loyalty to her so they can
work together or something.”

  “That’s it? Why should he be loyal to her?” I ask. I guess that explains why she sent lackeys to grab Azmos instead of meeting him in person—she wants to prove she’s more powerful. “And where is he supposed to make this pledge?”

  Cam shrugs. “She didn’t say.”

  The words hang heavy around us. Cam’s eyes are dark, haunted. His face is battered. It looks painful when he swallows. I want to kick someone in the shin, preferably Vessa. Cam opens his mouth to say something else but he’s interrupted by Dad, who calls down the hallway: “Nicki, is someone here?”

  “It’s Cam,” I call back. Dad comes into the doorway. He lets out a few swear words when he sees the bruises on Cam’s face, and then apologizes for swearing in the way adults always do.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Mugged,” Cam lies. It’s so effortless that it’s a little scary but knowing Cam, he probably came up with the story on his way over here, no doubt complete with details about a nondescript attacker.

  “That’s horrible. In the middle of the day?”

  “I’d just left an ATM and took a short cut through an alley. It was stupid.”

  “Did you call the cops?” Dad asks.

  I roll my eyes, hoping Dad doesn’t catch the motion in the mirror. It’s automatic. Police are no help with demon problems, not that Dad knows anything about that.

  “I’ll file a report tomorrow,” Cam says. “You know how it is. They never find these guys. Right now I just want to get home.”

  Dad nods sagely. “It’s true. But what good are they when kids are mugged in broad daylight? I mean, really.”

  “It’s kind of gray out,” I say. And it’s almost four, so it’s already practically dark. Seattle winter, got to love it.

  “What are you doing here?” Dad asks. I was waiting for that, but luckily, so was Cam, and he has an explanation ready. Have I mentioned how much I love him lately?

  “Jerk broke my glasses. I was closer to here, and I didn’t want to drive too far, especially since it’s getting dark.” Dad agrees this was a smart course of action. Cam explains he has a spare pair at home. “I can call my mom, have her bring them,” he says.

  “Nonsense. I’ll drive you home,” Dad says.

  “If you’re sure…” Cam says.

  “Your mother would kill me if I didn’t. You can park your car here overnight, get it tomorrow,” Dad says. “Let me go find my shoes.”

  Dad vanishes into his bedroom.

  Cam grabs my wrist, fingernails digging into my skin. “Promise me you won’t go anywhere alone.” His voice is hard, his green eyes sharp.

  “Cam, I can’t do that.”

  His grip tightens. “Promise me, Nicki.”

  I stare at him, wincing in pain. “Okay,” I say. “I won’t go anywhere alone. Tonight.”

  It’s good enough because Cam lets go. White marks remain in my skin. I shake my wrist as if that will elevate the pain. He glances down the hall, making sure my dad’s not listening. Then he leans closer, his lips near my ear so his warm breath brushes over my cheek. “She’s dangerous, Nic. It’s like she’d be happy to skin every human alive.” He’s shaking slightly, and I wind my arm around him, squeezing a little. “I don’t want you getting hurt for the sake of Azmos. I think you should seriously consider giving your resignation.”

  “I won’t get hurt,” I say, even though I know it’s an empty promise. “Besides, I’m trapped here for the next two days. I’ll call Azmos to pass along the message, but Dad isn’t letting me go anywhere.”

  I try to say that I’m sorry again but Cam holds his fingers up to my lips. “What’s done is done.”

  Dad returns, dangling his keys. I squeeze Cam’s hand once more, kiss his cheek, and let him go.

  “Just promise you’ll be careful,” Cam says.

  “I will,” I say. And that is a promise I can keep. I just can’t promise it will do me any good.

  “Demon Headquarters,” Gabriel answers the phone. I dialed the warehouse, but I’m relieved to hear his voice and glad someone answered before it went to voicemail. I hear Azmos growl something in the background but can’t make it out.

  “You’re okay,” I say.

  “Nicki?” Gabriel asks.

  “I was worried about you. Cam was attacked outside your building,” I say and then tell him a short version of the story.

  “Damn,” he says when I finish. “They jumped me on my way to the warehouse. I didn’t even think about Cam. I’m fine, by the way. The guy was the size of an ocean liner, but I had my sword.” He pauses. “This is where you ask how the other guy looks.”

  “I think that joke only works if I can see you,” I say.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” A pause. “I’m sorry Cam was hurt. Is he…”

  “He’ll be okay.” The words catch in my throat. I push the image of his battered face out of my mind. “The guy just roughed him up a bit.”

  “Huh,” Gabriel says. I hear footsteps, like he’s pacing. I pang of unease rattles me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s just, that’s not exactly her M.O., is it?” he asks. “Her goon came after me like he thought my brains were made of money. If I’d been unarmed, he might have done me in.”

  Bile threatens to drown me. I swallow it down but my stomach won’t stop churning. Because her M.O. is to kill as many people as possible or at least get them so close to death she can offer them a lifeline in exchange for loyalty. If Cam hadn’t been thinking on his feet, he could easily have become her latest minion. “He told her he worked for Az,” I explain. “She let him go with a few punches so he could pass on a message.”

  Gabriel considers this in silence for longer than I’m comfortable with. “I guess that makes sense. An act of goodwill towards her brother or whatever.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Something like that. Speaking of, can I speak to the boss man?”

  “Sure thing,” Gabriel says. The receiver rustles and moment later, Azmos’ voice is on the line.

  “Nicolette,” he says. “What’s up?”

  “Vessa hurt Cam, Az. She wanted to hurt me.”

  There’s a pause. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He sounds sincere but I’m seething. “Is he all right?”

  “She thought he was your assistant so she let him off with a warning and a message. She wants you to promise her your loyalty.”

  “She wanted the same thing two hundred years ago,” Azmos says. The hair on my arms stands up. I knew Azmos was over two hundred years old but it’s hard to imagine. “I refused then. I don’t know why she’d think anything had changed.”

  She seems totally unhinged from reality, but I decide not to say so. “She hurt Cam and could have killed him. How do we stop her?”

  “We’re working on that right now,” Azmos says. “In the meantime, Xanan is trying to keep her army from growing and I’m going to attempt to prevent her from hurting more people. I suggest you stay home and out of her path. I’ll call you if you can be of service.”

  The line goes dead before I can argue. If I wasn’t grounded and my dad wasn’t going to be back any second, I’d definitely be storming out the door and joining them in making plans. Sitting around and doing nothing is hell.

  When Dad comes back, he looks more frazzled than he did after I got suspended. “You okay?” he asks me and I assure him that I am before turning the question on him.

  “Yeah. It’s a scary world out there,” he says. “Now you understand why I get so scared when I can’t reach you or you’re not where you say you are. For all I know, you’re—”

  “I know,” I cut him off and I give him a big hug. “But he’s okay.” This time. “And so am I.”

  Dad sighs. He opens the fridge and uncaps a beer, takes a sip. “This is the worst timing, but I have to fly to Chicago on Thursday. There’s a client that wants an install of Dragon. Terri is coming with me for training, but she’s not ready to manage that hersel
f quite yet.” My dad’s security company names their systems after mythical creatures: Minotaur, Centaur, etc. Dragon is one of their most complex and newest systems.

  “That’s okay,” I say. “It’s your job.”

  He gives me a look and swigs more of his beer. He looks away before he speaks, over the counter and off into the living room. “It’s times like these I really miss her.”

  My heart squeezes and the air evacuates my lungs. We speak of my mom so rarely that any mention of her seems to freeze time. “I do, too,” I say, my voice small.

  “I always miss her of course, but,” he shrugs to finish the sentence. But sometimes the grief knocks the wind out of him and sometimes, it actually lets him breathe. He doesn’t have to say any of that. I know. I feel the same way.

  “It’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be back in school. I’m sure if I step a toe out of line, they’ll be happy to call you.”

  Dad smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, which are wet with the ghost of tears. I open the fridge and stare in, even though I’m not hungry. I don’t want to look at him or I’ll start crying.

  “Just…” he sets the bottle down. “Promise me you won’t do anything to give me another heart attack while I’m gone. I’m too young for that.”

  I nod, but I don’t promise. Because I can’t.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Holy crap, Walters,” Justin says in the school parking lot when he sees Cam’s face. “You look like you got into a fight with a gorilla.”

  The bruises have turned a sickly shade of yellow and brown, with nasty purple splotches. He took yesterday off at his mother’s insistence, partially because he was filing a police report and getting checked for a concussion at the hospital, so we both return on Thursday. Cam picked me up but he’s been sullen and quiet, still mad that I sent him on an errand, and even more mad that being involved in demon business got him hurt. I can’t blame him at all.

  Cam is entirely unamused by Justin’s joshing. “Mugged,” he says curtly, trying not to wince as he speaks. It’s obvious it hurts when he moves his jaw too much. I wish he’d stayed home the rest of the week (it’s two days!), but he refused. His demeanor is dark, his words clipped. He looks miserable. Cam doesn’t handle being ill or injured well. The only time I’ve ever seen him whiny was when he got the flu last year.