by S. L. Wright
Leaving him there exposed and vulnerable felt wrong. But I had Shock to worry about. If something happened to him, then I should find the nearest exit. I had already pin-pointed the location of the stairwell in the corner farthest from both demons as the one to take if I needed to escape.
As I approached the double doors at the end of the corridor, Dread’s signature was more distinct than Zeal’s. Close proximity made me stagger a bit as if the floor of the hall tilted downward. I felt as if I were sliding, about to lose control. It was uncomfortable, and I struggled to dampen the effects, to block it out as I did with Shock. I wondered if sensitive humans could also sense it, and if they were unnerved by the sensation.
June opened the door and announced, “Ms. Emma Meyers, Prophet Anderson.”
I stepped into the big corner office while June left, shutting the door behind me. Through one wall of windows, I could see just over the top of the roadway to the huge, flat-topped Prophet’s Arena south of the Williamsburg Bridge. The East River made a big curve there, with the piers and towering loading cranes of the Brooklyn Navy Yard clustered around the small bay behind it. In the distance, the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges spanned the river to downtown.
The other wall of windows looked directly at Manhattan, with the thick, blue-gray torrent of the river rushing by in front of us. We were higher than the old Domino Sugar refinery on our side of the waterfront, and beyond the river were the East River Park and project towers. That was Alphabet City, my neighborhood.
“Nice view.” I was glad the towers of the projects blocked my bar. I’d never considered that they might be able to see me from over here.
Dread, aka Prophet Thomas Anderson, stood behind a desk made of clear Lucite, with only a phone, laptop, and a leather pen case on top. The long wall had a built-in display trimmed in black, with white interior squares that held awards, citations, and photos of the prophet with important people. The shrinelike centerpiece was a photo of Dread with his arm around the shoulders of the original prophet, Dale Willams. That was Vex’s former persona. Right now, Vex was off somewhere being the new prophet’s wayward young nephew, Tim—or maybe someone else altogether.
From the black shiny floor to the careful lighting and sparse office equipment, I guessed this was not where Dread actually worked. This place was for show.
“Nice to see you again, Allay.” Dread’s persona was an urbane, Ivy-league man in his late fifties; tall, strong, with silvery short hair and the lightly bronzed skin of an out doorsman. There was something both warm and dignified about him, but all I could feel was his slippery signature that put me off balance.
“Actually, I want to see Vex.”
“Vex is out of the country right now. He’s not due back for another few days. Perhaps I can help you?” He didn’t sound too encouraging.
A few days! I couldn’t wait that long. “I need to speak to Vex. Can’t you get hold of him by phone?”
“No, I’m afraid that’s impossible. He’s deep in some rough country. You’ll have to make do with me.”
I tried not to shuffle my flip-flops as I crossed the vast expanse to his desk. I had met Dread only a few times in the company of Vex, usually when he gave me orders on code words and procedures for my job. Other than that, I dealt directly with Vex whenever I needed something, which was rarely.
What if Dread was lying to me about Vex? He was far too smooth to be trusted. He was wearing a very expensive suit, and his white shirtsleeves were closed with cuff links. But he didn’t have a tie, and his shirt was open a couple of buttons, showing off a few curly silver chest hairs. Shock had laughed once about how Dread had created his current persona with premature gray hair to help establish his authority within the church. She said his personas were always rigidly correct—the perfect knight, the devout monk, the finest courtier—but he had never assumed the leadership role until recently when he became the Fellowship’s prophet, while Vex had taken a minor role as his nephew.
When I reached the desk, I wasn’t surprised when Dread didn’t offer me his hand. That was a human custom; demons rarely shook hands. It left the weaker demon vulnerable to a sneak attack.
Dread sat down, gesturing for me to take the chair in front of the desk. The two chairs on my side of the desk were organic in shape, with wings for armrests and a higher curve for the back. Mine was upholstered in nubbly white fabric and was surprisingly comfortable. But I didn’t settle back, resisting its lure to relax.
Dread consulted the laptop screen. “Revel said a demon got into your bar today and attacked Shock.”
So much for telling him myself so I could see if his surprise was genuine or not. “Yeah, but I didn’t sense his signature.”
“Perhaps it was Shock’s new offspring. Or any other demon, for that matter, with a subtle signature that you didn’t recognize. Shock was there, wasn’t she? Her signature can be quite… harsh.”
I didn’t want to admit to him that I had shut down my sixth sense the first time it happened because of Shock’s presence. “The new demon is Petrify, and he sends cold chills right up your spine. It’s not easy to miss.”
Dread smiled in understanding, but there was something tight about his lips and the stiff way he moved. “Of course.”
He was patronizing me. Personally, I didn’t care. But I had to shake him, to make him listen to me.
“Our agreement is that you keep me safe. Pique attacked me at my bar last night, and he would have killed me in front of everyone if Theo hadn’t intervened. Today Shock was attacked twice inside my place. What’s the use of working for you if this is all I get?”
Dread smiled tightly. “Speaking of working for us, I believe you have something that belongs to me. Savor said you didn’t complete the handover.”
My hand went to my pocket to the USB device that Phil Anchor had given me so reluctantly. I was lucky it hadn’t fallen out in one of the cabs. I was almost tempted to lie and say I had lost it. But Dread would order Phil to make another copy, and he would have to go through the hell of turning it over again.
I pulled out the storage device. “Phil dropped it off this morning.” Dread reached for it, but I didn’t pass it over at first. “I left a message for Vex, but I haven’t heard back yet. What are you going to do about these attacks on me and Shock?”
“I’ll send Stun over to scare Pique off your territory. Meanwhile, you’ll be safer staying here in the center until Vex gets home. I’m sure he’ll want to speak to you.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. Dread was anything but welcoming. Maybe Dread was the attacker. He was cold as ice.
No wonder his wife had left him. I had felt sorry for him seeing all the tabloid stories that gleefully described how she was openly doting on a much-younger man, and how her affair with Crave had been going on for months, right under Dread’s nose. This wasn’t the first sex scandal that Crave’s persona, jeweler-extraordinaire Mark Cravet, had been involved in. Right before 9/11, Crave had been part of the celebrity trial of the season when a TV actress successfully sued him for breech of promise and got a huge settlement. I didn’t know then that he was a demon. Now that the prophet’s wife was involved with him, the blogs and gossip columnists were going wild as they cut the sanctimonious prophet down to the level of ordinary men.
“There’s a loft you can use upstairs,” Dread added without a drop of graciousness.
“I’m not staying here. I’ll come back when Vex gets home, but thanks anyway.” I pushed up out of the deceptively comfortable chair, swaying from the effects of Dread’s signature as I stood. I wasn’t going back to Revel’s, that was for sure, and my bar wasn’t safe anymore. I would have to figure out where to go.
Dread rose and came to the corner of the desk to stand too close to me. “Vex’s orders are that I protect you. I can’t do that if you leave the center.”
Is that a threat? I almost asked. He was waiting to see what I would do, as if he didn’t care either way.
How can I tru
st him? That was the real question. Dread spoke for Vex, so defying him meant defying Vex. Whatever Vex’s misgivings about Dread, his second- in-command still held his premier position, controlling the Fellowship empire as the prophet. But Dread could be the demon who was responsible for the attacks on Shock.
Vex knew I was here because of my message. I could call back and tell him I was waiting for him. Even if I should fear Dread, surely he wouldn’t do anything to me here.
But I wanted proof. “Okay, I could use a place to stay,” I said, just to see how he would react. He was so close to me that I managed to brush the back of my hand against his fingertips as I started past him.
Energy arced between us—he felt a burning, deep humiliation, staining him violet to his core. He felt betrayed, a sacrificial lamb, a laughingstock in front of people who, trembling, used to obey his word. A bright ribbon of bitterness wound through him, wrapped with jealousy and thwarted passion.
Suddenly his eyes weren’t so shuttered. Rage blazed up in him, distorting his features. “Don’t touch me!” He grabbed my wrist, his fist so tight that I gasped. He pulled hard on my emotions despite my shields, tasting my determination to protect Shock no matter the cost.
“I almost died last night!” I hissed into his face. “Shock was almost killed today. I have to know if I can trust you.”
Through his grip, his suffocating blanket of humiliation overlay something buried deeper. He was armored in arrogance, yet there was a yearning budding inside of him, resonating with the even-larger void inside of me. Although Dread was powerful with his reserves stoked high, his essence was beginning to run out. He would have to take another demon; otherwise, within a few months, he would begin to wither and die.
“You’ve got the same problem as me.” I now wished I hadn’t touched him. The need to rekindle could make demons lose their minds. One time a demon got run over by a truck when he tried to get hold of me to steal my core. I didn’t wait around for him to resurrect and resume the chase.
“Yes,” Dread agreed, his upper lip twitching in distaste.
I tugged on my arm, and he seemed to remember himself as he let go of me. I thought it would break the connection between us. But it felt as if a wall had been breached. He felt my sympathy—how could I not, being stuck in the same predicament? Plus, he could sense that I never intended to hurt him when I touched him.
“For the first time in my life, I have this problem,” he added bitterly.
My heart leaped. Maybe there was a chance for me. “How did you get this old without having to take another demon?”
“I did consume a demon, every two hundred years, regular as clockwork. My wife and I birthed demons for each other.”
Ick! “Oh, really,” I said faintly.
“We were everything to each other.” His voice was tight, but his anger and frustration blazed out. But beneath it all was a despondent wail. I could feel it even though I wasn’t touching him. “She gave Crave her offspring. He’s not even one hundred fifty years old. He doesn’t need it, and she knows I do. They say she took the offspring he birthed.” His jaw ground for a moment. “That’s our ritual. Our bond.”
It sounded awful, but his pain was real. “I’m sorry, Dread.”
It took a few moments for him to regain his composure.
“It’ll be all right,” I told him.
Dread clung to his proper facade. “I’m supposed to say that to you.”
I smiled at him, feeling sorry for him now that I was fairly sure he wasn’t going to attack me to steal my essence. I felt even more sorry for myself. Dread would have no hesitation in consuming a demon once he got hold of one. My problem wasn’t going to be solved so easily.
But right now, my biggest concern was to figure out who was trying to kill Shock and stop them. That was far more important than my need to replenish myself. But at least I had found something in common with Dread. If he wasn’t behind the attack, I needed to get him on my side so he would help me fix this situation fast.
Dread actually smiled at me, his well-honed preacher expression practically insisting I trust him. I watched him get on the phone, setting everything into motion so that I could stay at the Prophet’s Center. The poor man didn’t realize he had the illusion of control, but little else.
9
As we left Dread’s office, he told me, “You’ll have to go back downstairs and register with the security system.”
“Why?”
“Since you’re going to be staying here for a few days, you’ll need to be scanned so I don’t have to keep approving your presence in the center.”
I wondered if he was telling the truth. What was it about the man that made me doubt every word he said? Regardless, it would be impossible for Dread to do away with me quietly if I was on record in their security system. Clearly, it made sense to cooperate. “Fine, let’s get it over with.”
As we rounded the corner, Theo stood up, waiting for us to rejoin him. I told him, “I’m going to stay here tonight. But I have to go down and log in officially.”
Theo nodded, but Dread hardly glanced at him, asking me, “Do you want me to send for Shock?”
“No, she’s fine.” I wasn’t going to tell him where Shock was. After a few moments, I added, “Thank you, anyway.”
Theo caught my eye, letting me know he understood that I didn’t trust the prophet. It was probably obvious to Dread, too. Things cooled perceptibly between us, and Dread didn’t smile at me again.
Without another word I went back downstairs to the security desk and went through the process of having my driver’s license scanned into the computer.
When the guard reached out a hand for Theo’s ID, Dread said blandly, “That’s not necessary, Martin.”
“He’s leaving, anyway,” I agreed.
“Not yet,” Theo said quietly, to me alone.
“I’m fine now, Theo. Don’t you need to get to work?”
“It’s my day off. I know you can take care of yourself, but I’d like to keep you company for a while. Then I’ll go home.”
Still I hesitated, so he took my hand, letting me absorb his determination to support me, to do whatever I needed, to be my rock to stand on. I took what he offered, an instant pick-me-up. “All right, you can come settle me in.”
Dread merely smiled, as if it were only to be expected—many demons had an entourage of humans who gave them sustenance. He expected me to feed off Theo before I sent him away. Dread led the way back through the gate, which opened automatically for us.
Reaching the sixth floor, we found the elevator vestibule enclosed by more decorative bronze walls with a sliding gate that looked like a vault. Dread lifted his face to the camera, and the gate quickly slid open. I could imagine it shutting even faster if someone unauthorized tried to slip past.
Dread showed me into a spectacular loft on the north-west corner of the building. A wall of windows had a sweeping view of the river and Manhattan. To the north, the low brick buildings of Williamsburg and Greenpoint were oddly punctuated by slender, postmodern apartment towers, with the tallest ones near the waterfront. Farther upriver, the end of Roosevelt Island supported the cream lace struts of the Queensboro Bridge. From this vantage point, all of the Lower East Side and Midtown, complete with the Empire State Building, spread before us. I had to walk right up to the window to look south, where the sweeping cable and blackened stone supports of the Willamsburg Bridge loomed beside the Prophet’s Center.
The loft looked as if it had been designed by someone who had been paid a great deal of money. Earth tones predominated, perhaps to contrast with the stark urban vista, with shades of beige and green accented by splashes of russet and gold. The bedroom was an open loft along the interior wall with a floating staircase leading up. Underneath was a long galley kitchen separated from the living space by a marble-topped island with four stools.
“Welcome home,” Dread announced. I gave him a sharp look, but I didn’t want to openly contradict him. He add
ed, “This is one of our VIP suites.”
I wandered around the loft, peeking into the door in the corner that led to the bathroom. I was at a loss for what to say. “Nice. Very nice.”
“The kitchen is fully stocked,” Dread explained, glancing in Theo’s direction. “The maid will come in to clean and refill the supplies. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Just press this red square.” He showed me the touch screen mounted in the wall next to the door. “June will answer anytime day or night, and can get you anything you need.”
“Where’s the camera so I make sure she sees me?”
Theo didn’t bother to hide his grin. But Dread took my question seriously. “There aren’t any cameras in here. The Fellowship would never violate your privacy. It goes against everything we stand for.”
“Sure,” I agreed pleasantly.
He glanced at Theo again. “We have a Fellowship circle tomorrow morning. I’d take it as a favor if you attended with me, Allay. Once you get to know us, you’ll understand the strength of our commitment.”
Huh? His invitation came out of nowhere. Why was Dread putting on the prophet act with me? Was it for Theo? I must have looked completely dubious. I gestured to my smudged white tank top and low-slung skirt. “These aren’t exactly church-going clothes. I think I’ll have to beg off.”
Dread got even stiffer, as if he didn’t like being contradicted. “The Fellowship embraces everyone, regardless of how they look or act.”
“How generous of you,” I managed to say. For him to push me this way, I must have made a bigger impact on him than I thought.
“We wouldn’t be the church of the people without the people.” His joke fell flat when I didn’t smile. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten thirty.”
Dread didn’t wait for my answer. He gave me his professional preacher’s smile, and left. The door closed behind him with a whisper-smooth click.
Theo let out his breath in a rush, turning around to look at the loft again. “Whew! You didn’t tell me you were some kind of bigwig. Talk about rolling out the red carpet.”
