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

by Tori Centanni

  My mind starts to conjure up more images of dead people and I force them back.

  “So what do we do?” Gabriel asks.

  Both of us look to Azmos, who hasn’t moved in an uncomfortably long time. Not even to blink. It’s insanely creepy in a way I thought only Xanan could manage. Gabriel doesn’t look fazed by it, and I remember he’s dated a demon. He’s probably used to the way they don’t move as frequently, the way they can go still like they don’t even need to breathe for big chunks of time.

  “We stop her,” I say, because it’s the only answer.

  “Yes,” Azmos agrees. “She obviously cannot be reasoned with or easily captured so she needs to be stopped.” I exhale, a little bit of the tension easing out of my shoulders. Vessa is his sister, after all, and while I never thought he was going to step up beside her and be her man-at-arms, it’s nice to hear he’s definitely on Team Destroy the Bad Lady.

  My phone trills, the sound of voicemail.

  I dig it out of my pocket. We found my bag and jacket in a coat closet in the abandoned apartment. I’m glad none of Vessa’s people destroyed my stuff. I have a lot of missed calls and messages, mostly from the last hour. The newest voicemail is from Cam. I walk around the little apartment until I find a corner with a bar and a half, and call Cam back.

  He sounds worried when he picks up. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m with Az,” I say, my stomach churning. His worry is not unjustified but I wish I could take away his anxieties. “What’s up?”

  There’s a pause. A hesitation. I brace myself for the worst. I chose to be involved with demons but it’s not fair to drag Cam in. He doesn’t say “We need to talk” though. Instead, after a long silence, he asks again, “Where are you?” His voice is strained, like he’s choking something back. Is he mad at me or worried about me?

  “The warehouse,” I say. He sucks in a breath. “Cam, I—” I don’t know if I’m going to apologize or even for what, but I don’t get the chance to finish.

  Gabriel makes a strangled noise that sounds like a prey animal screaming as it’s caught by the teeth. He doubles over on his knees, clutching his skull. The visions strike him like lightning out of a clear sky and look like they hurt just as much.

  “Cam, I have to go,” I say. “Come to the warehouse.”

  “Wait, Nic—” He sounds panicked and probably wants to argue about how I shouldn’t be involved with the demons anymore, how I should just go home and put on pajamas and stick to horror movies, but Gabriel is digging his fingernails into his scalp and wincing like he’s being flayed alive, so this is not the time for this talk.

  “Gotta go.” I hang up.

  I rush to Gabriel’s side. There’s nothing I can do for him, but I put my hand on his shoulder so he knows he’s not alone. When the attack ends, he crumbles into a ball. He sits on the floor, back to the easy chair, knees to his chest.

  “Are you okay?” I ask automatically, even though it’s painfully obvious how not okay he is.

  He nods but it’s a strained motion. I go into the kitchen and pour him a glass of water. He thanks me and sips it carefully, widening his jaw like he’s trying to crack it. He drops his hand, defeated.

  “Sometimes I think the visions are punishment,” he says. “For not dying like I was supposed to.”

  “They aren’t,” Azmos says softly. “Your near death created a connection with forces beyond even my understanding, but I have never seen proof that the visions are malicious in nature, or even granted by a knowing entity. Some things just happen.”

  Gabriel does not look comforted by this information but he doesn’t argue.

  “What did you see?” Azmos prods.

  “She’s going to have her army take over a ferry,” Gabriel says. “Wound everyone and make them her slaves. At least, I assume it’s her people. She’s not in the vision. And my god, there’s so much death.” He considers, staring off into the distance, eyes haunted. “It could be a bomb, but that doesn’t seem like it’d work in her favor. She needs people almost dead, not in pieces.”

  “What ferry?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and sips more water. “I can’t tell. The vision is too—” He waves his hands around like he’s trying to conjure the word from the air. Finally he says, “Big. Too many people dying, it’s too hazy. Usually it’s crystal clear, but this is…” He swallows. “This is new. None of my visions have ever been so disjointed or fuzzy before. It’s just… death. Lots and lots of death.” His eyes look haunted.

  After all of the death I’ve seen, I can’t imagine having that kind of thing thrust into my mind all of the time.

  “When?” Azmos asks.

  “Usually they happen the next day, if they happen at all. So tomorrow evening, I guess.” He rubs his temples.

  “That gives us some time,” I say. “We need to get weapons and figure out a plan. Can you tell if Vessa’s going to be there?”

  “Not for sure. But Azmos never appears in the visions either, even if he saves the person,” Gabriel says, sounding dejected.

  “What we need is an army of our own,” Azmos says, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

  “You are not suggesting you do the same thing as Vessa,” I say.

  His expression changes into a scowl, the first time it’s changed all night. “Nicolette, I am not an idiot. I’m merely pointing out the more people we have on our side, the better the odds of getting her in a position to listen to reason.”

  She’s never going to listen to reason. I must make a face because Azmos adds, “Or do whatever must be done.” His voice is sad but resigned. I feel bad for him. I don’t have siblings, but I know how much Cam loves Cathy, and how he’d do anything for her, so I can sort of understand his reluctance to accept that she’s gone way too far off the deep end to ever be brought back.

  Before I can put my thoughts into more tactful words, something explodes beneath us.

  For a split second, I think it’s an earthquake. I’ve never been in an earthquake but I can’t think of what else might rattle a concrete building like this. The walls shake. A decorative vase vibrates off an end table and smashes onto the hardwood floor.

  The window that looks out onto the Sound is at the back of the building. We all look down but see nothing. Gabriel and I follow Az to the door of the flat, which leads to steel stairs and down from the third story. From the walkway on the second floor, I grip the railing of the overhanging walkway and look out over the sea of smashed marble and clay littering the floor. The antechamber between the front door is now a pile of rubble and smoke. Voices shout inaudible commands and something explodes again. It’s a small, measured explosion but it shakes the building and more statues topple and shatter.

  They’re blowing the door open, I realize. The building is concrete and steel but enough firepower will get them in.

  “Vessa,” I say.

  “Or her army,” Azmos says grimly.

  “We’re not ready to face either one,” Gabriel says. “Is there a back door?” He sounds calm, reasonable. Not at all like someone is setting off C-4 or dynamite at the entrance.

  Azmos nods sharply and leads us across the walkway. Another explosion rocks the building and this time, frigid night air floods in, too. More of Xanan’s sculptures fall over and shatter like china plates, pieces skittering over the floor. Gabriel grabs me by the shoulders and I realize I’ve stopped moving. He drags me along, past Azmos’ office, past the storage closet. There’s a trapdoor in the floor. Az pulls it open. It leads to a ladder. We climb down, following Az down a back hall and to a small back door.

  “They’re probably out there, too,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Gabriel agrees. He opens his coat and pulls a sword from his hip. It’s a decent-sized blade and he wields it like someone who knows how to do damage.

  I clutch the dagger Miranda gave me, but I’m not very confident with it and I seriously hope I don’t have to try and use it. Even though I don’t t
rust myself with a gun, I wish I’d held on to the one I gave Rayna. I wonder if Xanan is going to keep it. Azmos swipes a keycard and opens the door a crack. He motions for us to wait. Another explosion rocks the building and he pushes the door open at the same time.

  There’s a wall between us and the front room, but the sounds of people storming in are unmistakable. Boots trample over broken ceramic and clay, crunching through the space with all the care of a stampeding horde.

  We race out into an alley and the door shuts behind us, the aftermath of the explosion masking the noise. A pair of Vessa’s guards rounds the corner, walking casually until they spot us. Gunfire erupts but the guard is too far away. Gabriel grabs my hand. As we bolt across the street, my legs burn. There’s a fence that blocks off a truck parking lot, and we have to wind our way around. Gunfire explodes in the air. This part of SODO is mostly industrial so it’s largely deserted at this time of night, but I can’t imagine gunshots will go unnoticed and unreported for long, especially with the explosions that have proceeded them, not to mention the shot from Rayna’s gun earlier.

  We run until my lungs are on fire and I’m pretty sure I can’t run anymore. At this point, Mrs. Mitchell, the Phys. Ed. Teacher, wouldn’t even recognize me. I’ve never run for this long in my life and the only reason I don’t stop is Gabriel’s hand pulling me along and the adrenaline pulsing in my veins.

  At some point, sirens blare in the distance. We slip between other boxy buildings and come out near a bus stop. But instead of waiting for the next bus, Gabriel and Azmos keep walking.

  I remember my conversation with Cam and swear. What if he’s still heading to the warehouse? It’s not safe now. Gabriel shoots me a look while I grapple for my phone. Two missed calls.

  I hit “call” and Cam answers immediately. “Tell me you’re not inside that warehouse,” he says. His voice is strained. From his end of the phone, I can hear sirens blaring more loudly.

  “No,” I say. “I’m… we ran out. We’re okay. You?”

  “I’m fine. I hung back when I heard the explosions. What the hell is happening?” he demands. “This is crazy, Nic.”

  “I know,” I say. My voice feels small. Smoke chokes the air. Gabriel puffs air through his nose and looks nauseated.

  “You need to get very far away from there,” Cam says.

  “So do you.” He sounds closer than I am and panic sets my teeth on edge.

  “Get somewhere safe.” There’s a pause, like he’s desperately thinking things through. Then, so quietly I almost don’t hear it, he says, “Mel’s?”

  “Maybe,” I say. I picture bringing Gabriel the bedraggled psychic and Azmos the demon to Melissa’s door. She might let us in just to demand answers, but that would put her and her family in danger, and I’m not willing to do that. It takes me a second to realize the phone has gone dead and the call has been dropped. I send Cam a quick text, “Let you know when I get somewhere. You get somewhere safe, too!” and then shove it back in my pocket.

  Gabriel urges me forward. He steps in front of Azmos and leads the way to Myron’s library-slash-underground dwelling.

  No one is in the study. Gabriel knocks on the bookcase that opens. A moment later, it slides open and Myron stands there bleary-eyed, his pink hair sticking up in all directions. He wears a black long-sleeved t-shirt and silky black pajama pants. He gives Gabriel an impatient look but then he notices the sword. His eyes widen and fall on Azmos. He perks up.

  “Hello,” he says. Azmos nods in greeting. He looks faintly surprised to be faced with another demon. “Fun night?”

  “We need to come in,” Gabriel says.

  “It’s polite to ask, not demand,” Myron says, but he pulls the door open wide and ushers us all inside regardless. Gabriel hangs up his coat on the coat rack and puts away his weapons. I shove my dagger back in my bag.

  “How did she know where to find us?” I ask, as soon as the bookshelf slides shut and I manage to catch my breath. “She had no idea where Azmos was earlier today. It’s why she held me without—” I shudder, unable to finish the thought. “She wanted me to tell her where to find him. So how did she find us?”

  “No idea. Did she follow you?”

  I shake my head. “Xanan would have known,” I say, pretty confident that that’s true. He sensed Rayna from two blocks away. Azmos confirms this with another nod. I’m not a fan of this new method of non-verbal communication but my mind in running in too many directions to add that to my list of current problems.

  “She found someone who knew,” Gabriel says. He stares suspiciously at Myron, who sits beside him and gives him a dark look.

  “You know I wouldn’t,” Myron says sternly. “There’s curiosity and there’s suicide. I know where the line is.” But he plays with a string that’s come loose from the cuff and doesn’t meet Gabriel’s eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Azmos says.

  It’s obvious Azmos doesn’t hang out around the usual arcane haunts. Myron keeps stealing glances at him like he’s some kind of legend come to life. And Xanan does not strike me as the sort to voluntarily socialize. Which means if Vessa asked around the demon circles, no one would have known where to find him. Except Myron. No wonder Gabriel suspects him.

  Gabriel taps his foot on the floor until Myron gently puts a hand on his thigh. “This is a nice surprise and all, but why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” he asks.

  Gabriel explains, not bothering to move Myron’s hand. He tells him about Vessa’s recent assault on the warehouse, and I think Myron’s eyes are going to pop out of his skull. As he gives him the rundown, I check my phone, only to realize there’s no service in this underground cave.

  I wave my phone and excuse myself as I go out the bookcase-door and through the study, into the antechamber where the grate opens into the street above. This square of space has two bars of cell service. I have one text from Dad, asking how I am. I text back that I’m fine and return the question. He says he’s doing well and up-sold the client to the gold package, which is great for his job. I congratulate him. The normalcy of the text conversation feels surreal as I stand beneath the street in Pioneer Square in the entrance to a demon’s apartment.

  I really hope things are back to normal—or what passes for normal—by the time he gets home. The thought that I might not survive this mess crosses my mind but I force it back out. Everything’s going to be fine. Xanan and Azmos and Gabriel and I will stop Vessa no matter what it takes. We’re the good guys. That’s how this works.

  Cam texts me back, finally. His reply is “Stay safe. Screw the demons. Save yourself.”

  I try to text him to ask if he’s going home or what, but there’s no answer.

  A blast of icy air blows down through the grate. I hug my coat tightly around me. The gate opens. Xanan looks down at me, his face pale against the night sky. He smiles and it looks totally demonic. I realize, with a start, that he’s not the last person I want to see. I’m actually sort of glad he’s here.

  My life is seriously messed up.

  Xanan jumps down and hooks his longer fingers up through the grate, pulling it down over his head. He’s almost as tall as this room.

  “You look happy,” I say, my tone dry.

  Xanan’s happiness is contingent on terrible things, so it shouldn’t feel like good news but it is better than him showing up with a doom-and-gloom expression and news to match. But then again, it probably means more innocent people like Rayna are dead.

  “I don’t think she’s aware how quickly I’m able to dispatch her army,” he says. “Or that I’m here at all.” He runs his fingers through his shaggy black hair and it’s such a human gesture—such a Cameron gesture—that it catches me off guard. His face looks blue in the moonlight. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue and drops his hand. “But she’s still got a stronghold of far too many, and there’s nothing to stop her from making more.”

  “There’s us,” I say. And for the first time, Xanan looks at me li
ke I might not be gum on the bottom of his shoe.

  “I didn’t get it,” Xanan says, leaning against the brick. The air in the small space has turned to ice with the cold that wafts off him. It burns my cheeks. “When Azmos first recruited you to work for him, I thought he’d gone rabid.” My skin crawls. I have no doubt what Xanan would do if that was ever the case.

  “And now?” I ask. “You don’t think I’m a completely useless mortal?”

  “I don’t think mortals are useless,” Xanan says, scratching his chin. “I was human once, you know.”

  I didn’t know that. It’s hard to even imagine. I try to see the humanity in the etched lines of Xanan’s face, in the long limbs and blue veins covered by pale skin. If I’d had to guess one of the demons had been human once upon a time, I’d have put all of my money on Azmos, but looking at Xanan now, I can see how Azmos is vibrant and alive in a way Xanan isn’t. Xanan has always reminded me of a how I thought a vampire might look if they existed. Like he’s undead.

  “How…” The question dies on my tongue. I’m too tired to wrestle my thoughts into coherent sentences. Xanan understands, though.

  “I was denied death and became its warden. There are others like me. Some used to be demons. Others used to be human. But we’re all the same now.” He rubs his eyes and a droplet of water runs down his cheek. A tear, I think, but no. It’s a drop of water from a melted ice crystal that had formed on his eyelash.

  “You’re a grim reaper,” I say. It isn’t a question.

  “Something like that.”

  “Why you?” I ask.

  His smile returns, mischievous. I can almost see the young man he must have been god knows how many years ago. I kind of get why Melissa is so attracted to him. If only she knew what he really is. “Just lucky I guess.” He nods at the door. “Is Azmos in there?”