by S. L. Wright
“What do you mean?”
“There have always been mysterious deaths among our people. Surely you know that? Even the earliest Sumerian records include citations of demon ‘begets’ and consumption, but not all were accounted for. We can’t hide it when we take another’s essence—that pearly glow lingers for days and gives it away. But demons have always disappeared without explanation.”
“I’m not sure which is scarier, a demon I can’t sense or the chance that I could implode without warning.”
“I think it’s a demon who can stealth himself. The only time I heard of a near-death like this was Slam, back in the fourteenth century. He was a new demon, barely a decade old. He came to me one night in as bad shape as Shock. He said he was attacked by a demon he didn’t sense until it turned on him. And he was standing right next to him. A few days later, Slam disappeared. I never did find out who did him in, and I searched out everyone to be sure. There weren’t nearly as many of us back then.”
“So this stealth demon might come back for Shock, now that she’s been targeted?”
Revel gave me a long look. “It happened that way with Slam. Most demons just disappear, and we’re left wondering.”
“Like Malaise. Shock’s also an older demon who’s suddenly been targeted. Why?”
Revel had completely dropped his affected mannerisms. “I’ve kept close track of demon genealogy since I was born, and I’ve researched every scrap of writing from before then. There’re a few things almost all of the demons who disappear have in common. They’re young, rarely more than a decade old. Lately they’ve been even younger, under a year. They’re also the more vicious sort, the ones who fatally injure humans. Malaise was definitely hurting her victims, and she lost her head when she found such a rich vein of her preferred emotion in the modern prison system. But Shock helps people, so it doesn’t fit.”
I remembered what Shock had said about the last dregs of human emotion. And she kept overdosing on emotions and birthing new demons. She was getting that energy from somewhere.
But I had to stick to the important point. “How can it be possible for a demon to appear and disappear without warning?”
“Isn’t that what the bogeyman does?” Revel shook his head with the patience of a man who thought he knew the truth. “It must be a demon who has a very mild signature. There are a few around—yours is very light, Allay. If someone wasn’t expecting you, I bet you could sneak up on another demon, maybe even into the same room.”
“Then why did Vex accuse Dread of being the demon killer? He has a really strong signature.”
Revel gave me a proud smile, as he did when he was teaching me something. “So you’ve heard about that! Very good, Allay. I almost despaired of your ability to navigate the complexities of demon culture.”
I didn’t want to admit I’d only gotten around to asking these questions when Shock’s life was hanging by a thread. “Vex must know more than he’s let on.”
“Allay, you must let me make the arrangements if you want to see Vex. You can’t walk in off the street and demand to see him. Will you leave it to me?”
“No way, you’ll take forever doing it. And you’ll get too involved. I’m leaving now.”
“Now? But it’s Saturday.”
I looked down at Shock. “It’s important.”
A servile young woman entered and whispered in Revel’s ear. “Apparently your man has wandered into my library.”
“I’m ready to go.” I leaned over and kissed Shock on the cheek, giving her hand a squeeze. “You take care of her, Revel.”
“I will.” There was something in his voice I didn’t recognize. I hoped it was sincerity.
I followed Revel upstairs to the library, a large room lined with wooden glass-fronted display cases. Ki was standing nearby, with Theo seated in one of the leather chairs waiting for us.
A sweeping glance revealed the depth of Revel’s collection. I knew he collected art, but I hadn’t realized the extent of his investment in manuscripts. They were displayed in climate-controlled cubes scattered around the room. Next to the double doors lay an old book, open to a delicate parchment page.
I scanned the spidery, Old English words that listed the seven categories of demons:
Fates control destiny
Imps cause mischief
Succubi incite lust
Hordes bring conflict
Fiends tempt the saintly
Familiars instigate witchcraft
Guardians lend comfort
The descriptions did contain a kernel of truth. Since each demon sought out and devoured a particular emotion, that made them fall into certain patterns. Demons who craved anger, such as Pique, were Hordes causing conflict. Revel, with his constant partying, would be considered a Fiend, tempting the saintly. Shock and I would be considered Guardians because we helped people, Shock by taking away their physical pain, and I by making them feel better in any way I could.
Theo came toward me, as I nodded shortly, letting him know everything was all right. “Let’s go.”
But Revel stopped me. “Don’t rush off like this, Allay. You need a chance to eat. You’re looking famished, darling, and you need to be strong right now.”
He was offering to feed me. Our auras fluctuated where he touched my arm, flaring brighter. Invasive green tendrils curled from him into my aura. My mouth watered at his sticky sweetness.
I peeled Revel off me, not bothering to hide how much I shuddered at his touch. It brought everything back with full force. There was pain deep in his eyes, but he was so expert at the wounded-male look that it was far too overdone. Besides, I’d been shunning him for a decade; he couldn’t pretend to pout because I still felt the same.
Theo’s eyes widened at my overt rejection. He moved between us, taking my hand and tucking it under his arm. “I can take care of Allay.”
He let my palm rest on his forearm, so it was easy for me to draw off his emotions. Theo was jealous, surprised at his own reaction, but wanting nothing more than to get the better of Revel. It made me feel a feminine twinge of pleasure knowing Theo would get right into Revel’s face if he had to and make him back off. I soaked it up, my lips parting.
Revel tried to brush it off lightly. “What on Earth could you do?”
Theo simply stroked my hand where my aura was flashing as I fed from him.
Revel’s eyes narrowed. “How much do you know?”
“Nothing,” I said hastily. “He knows nothing.”
“The lady obviously needs protection,” Theo said.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Revel said impatiently. “Allay, you know I can help. You can’t go alone, and you’ll need me to deal with them properly.”
“I’ve dealt with them for the past ten years, Revel.”
“Yes, but now you’re upset, Allay. If you make him upset”—Revel gave me a particular glance rather than say Vex’s name in front of Theo—“he could take everything away from you, including that bar you love so much.”
That stopped me. “Michael owns the bar, and he would never cave to any pressure—”
Revel was shaking his head. “The church owns the Den, Allay. Vex bought it the week after you started working there.”
“But Michael… he would have told me.”
“He can’t, not according to his management contract.”
I took a deep breath, shaken by the news. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’ve refused to listen to anything I have to say. That’s why you have to listen now. I’m going with you, and you can’t say no.”
I lifted my chin. “No. You can’t order me around, Revel. Just take care of Shock, or I’ll make you pay for it.”
I tugged Theo’s arm, heading toward the door of the library. I was already feeling stronger from his steady input.
But Revel tried to stop me again, saying, “Allay—”
I jerked away from his outstretched hand as if he were about to burn me. “Don’t push it, R
evel. Just take care of Shock.”
Without another word, I marched down the spiral stairs and through the vast reception room. Theo followed silently while Revel trailed along behind us. In the stained-glass gallery, I ran up the flight of marble steps and stopped in front of the elevator doors.
Theo stood very close to me while I warily watched Revel. My aura was pulsing a dull red, like emergency flashers warning of danger ahead.
Revel glanced up at a camera and jerked his chin. The door opened as if by magic. I stepped inside, turning outward to face Revel. I stared him down until the door closed on us again. Even then, I didn’t move, very aware of the cameras in the tiny space. Revel was such a voyeur, he would probably replay the tapes he had made of me later. The old ones, made back when I trusted him, and these new ones he’d gotten today. It made me feel sick.
The unobtrusive doorman had a taxi waiting for us by the time we crossed under the short green canopy to Park Avenue. Once we were in the cab and I’d given the driver my destination in Brooklyn, I sat back with a sigh.
Theo must have recognized the address. “The Fellowship of Truth. That’s where you’re going?”
I nodded. I knew I shouldn’t take Theo with me to the Fellowship complex. It was too dangerous. But he had been useful with Revel, and I had Shock’s life in my hands. Sad to say, I had to use every tool I could to save her.
Theo took my hand in his, startling me. I could feel how he admired the way I had stood up to Revel, refusing to back down. He was also confused about the suddenness of his own protective feelings about me. I skimmed off the edge of his strong emotions. I hadn’t tried to provoke him into feeling more for me, so it was all the sweeter.
“Don’t you hate not being in the driver’s seat?” I asked, gesturing to the cabbie with my chin.
He grinned, abashed. “Yeah, I’m not used to the backseat.”
I could feel that driving determination under his other emotions, and knew he would be going even faster than this driver, zipping in and out between cars as if he owned the road. There was something a little heady about so much tightly wound energy, and I fed from him with a rare abandon.
At one point during the long cab ride back downtown, my phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Revel: See Dread at PC.
I told him to stay out of it! If I had wanted to forewarn Vex that I was coming, I would have called him myself.
I leaned forward and said, “Take us to the Prophet’s Center instead.” To Theo, I explained, “Fortunay got me an appointment with the prophet. I had wanted to speak to his nephew, Tim, first. I know Tim.”
Tim Anderson was Vex’s persona, not Dread who wore the guise of the prophet. What if Dread was responsible for the attacks on Shock? He could be running interference between me and Vex.
I dialed Vex’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. “It’s Allay,” I said, mindful of Theo sitting next to me. “I’m on my way to the Prophet’s Center to see your uncle. I hope you’ll be there soon, because I’d much rather talk to you.” I hung up, hoping Vex would get back to me quickly.
As our cab crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, I looked back at my neighborhood in Manhattan. The redbrick towers of the projects thrust up from the treetops, blocking the view of my bar. But I knew exactly where it was. I briefly toyed with the thought of calling the bar. Darryl would be worried, but I didn’t have anything reassuring to tell him.
As I looked into Brooklyn, the biggest building to the north of the bridge was a hulking white cube called the Prophet’s Center. It was an old factory, seven stories high with rows of enormous windows spangled with tiny panes. A fuzz of green on top proclaimed that most desirable of New York real estate, the roof garden.
The Fellowship had taken over six other large buildings on the surrounding blocks, mostly former warehouses that had been transformed into offices that administered the church and its various businesses—real estate management, an investment firm, even a biomedical research facility. There were also apartments for some of their employees, including Vex and his closest demon companions.
Vex had moved his headquarters into Williamsburg in the early seventies when he was the original prophet. With his support, the neighborhood had eventually blossomed into one of the trendiest places to live in the city. I didn’t know much about the religion, just what everyone else knew. Fellows (or truth-speakers, as they were also known) were required to take complete responsibility for their own actions and feelings, empowering themselves in order to achieve their life goals. They were pioneers of biofeedback where they learned how to control the autonomic functions of their bodies, and they were one of the first to offer EST-like workshops to build leadership skills.
The cab curved down and around too quickly, back under the bridge to get to the Prophet’s Center. I paid the driver before we stopped, and looked at Theo. His eye was black underneath and slightly swollen on his cheek. The tumbled curl of hair on his forehead mostly hid the white butterfly bandages. I felt it necessary to ask, “Are you sure you want to come with me?”
“This guy owns your bar, doesn’t he?”
“So I’m told.”
“Then you should have some backup. Someone on your side.”
He was right. “Okay. But stop telling people you’re my bodyguard. I can’t afford you.”
“I come cheap.”
He said it so fast, I had to grin. So did he, a little embarrassed. We really didn’t know each other, but in a strange way we did. I suddenly had a sharp craving to make love to him again, slowly and properly. What would one more time hurt? He was too tempting to let pass by.
“It’s nice to see you smile again,” he said.
“It’s been a rough day.” I squeezed his hand, then let go. “Let’s hit it.”
We were so close to the river that a murky, fishy smell wafted down the few short blocks. Up above, the constant rush of cars speeding over the metal roadway of the bridge drowned out all other sounds.
A plain double glass door served as the entrance to an industrial-chic lobby with painted ducts and exposed conduit lighting on the ceiling. The acoustic tile on the walls barely damped the echo off the concrete floor, painted dark red. There were groupings of low benches and tables, adhering to the church’s civic-minded philosophy of including public space in commercial buildings. This lobby was cramped compared to the other buildings in the complex—on my first meeting with Vex, I had waited in the conference center’s atrium, which had trees three stories high inside. Vex didn’t seem as eager to have a lot of loiterers in the building where he and Dread actually lived.
Still, there were a dozen people around drinking coffee, reading, and working on their laptops. Since they were mostly locals from Williamsburg, the place could be considered trendy.
I couldn’t sense Vex in the building, and I hadn’t sensed him in the other church buildings we passed. Barely within range, I could tell Dread was on an upper floor on the south side of the building; he had a slippery, sliding signature that made me feel off balance. On the north side, there was another demon signature, but it wasn’t Vex’s. The pressing, squeezing sensation made me draw in my breath, as her name came to me—Zeal. When Shock talked about Vex and Dread, Zeal’s name was most often mentioned. She had a prominent role in the church as the minister of action, interfacing directly with their followers, feeding off their devotional frenzies. But I’d never met her.
I went to the desk by the elevators, cordoned off with a filigreed bronze enclosure that looked extremely strong. Demon-proof, one might say. I gave my name to the security guard. “I have an appointment with Prophet Anderson.”
The guard checked his screen, quickly clearing us. We each had to stand in front of the computer cam so our picture could be taken. When we approached the bronze gate, it opened automatically. The guard explained that a face-recognition program would allow us access to certain parts of the building, and the doors we weren’t supposed to go through wouldn’t open for us.
&
nbsp; The elevator also pinged open at our approach. It was sort of creepy, as if our every move were being watched. The Fellowship of Truth approved of modern technology, especially advances in medical science. They agitated for laws that improved the quality of life and they placed no restrictions on medical advances, including abortion, gene splicing, cloning, and stem cell research. Vex had run the Catholic Church under the Borgia empire, taking on the role of various notorious popes with Dread by his side. But I couldn’t reconcile that history with this permissive religion. The Fellowship was all about free choice.
As we walked into the waiting room on the fifth floor, a small woman of Asian ancestry was there to greet us, smiling. I was surprised to see she was wearing pink braces—she was in her mid- twenties, at least. But with her bangs, upturned nose, and tiny, graceful hands, she exuded vivacious charm. I wondered if Dread made the poor girl work every Saturday.
“Hello, my name is June. I’m Prophet Anderson’s assistant.” June directed Theo to a comfy chair with magazines on the table next to it, and said, “You can wait here while Ms. Meyers sees the prophet.”
“Allay,” Theo asked quietly, “do you want me to come with you?”
“No, you can wait.” I was glad when he didn’t protest, even though he probably wanted to meet the notorious prophet of the church-of-anarchy. But Theo couldn’t hear what I had to say to Dread.
“Let me see your phone,” he said.
I handed it over, and he keyed in his number, waiting to hang up until it rang. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I’ll be right back,” I promised.
He handed over my cell, letting his fingers brush against mine. I took in the bright spark of his attraction, savoring it. Was it the girl or the demon inside of me who wanted him? I couldn’t deny that I thought about pulling him against me, pressing my eager mouth to his, wrapping my legs around his hips.…
I forced myself to walk away as Theo remained standing, watching after me. I was lucky he had saved me from Pique last night. Shock was also lucky, or she wouldn’t have had me to stop the demon who attacked her this morning.
