Demon's Quest (High Demon Series #4)

by Connie Suttle

  Reah, it was a wrench allowing this to leave my closet. I had hopes of seeing you inside my suite at times, searching for something suitable to wear—Lendill.

  Reah, I kept some of your things—they bear your scent and I couldn't part with them—Chash.

  Reah, this is my favorite dress. You wore it when you graced my arm at the harvest ball, remember? I love you—Wylend.

  Reah, come and skip rocks with me. Please?—Tory. That note was on a pair of faded jeans. I recalled the first time we'd done that—Tory, Rylend, Gavril and I. More tears came.

  My love, you are my treasure. You know that—Aurelius. "I know that, Auri." I sat on the floor and wept, even when there shouldn't have been any tears left to fall.

  * * *

  I used my codes to get into the local constabulary's records on the three disappearances in Targis. Very little evidence had been collected—I found vid images where all three girls had last been seen. I was forcing myself to work at this—I'd almost succumbed to huddling inside my new apartment instead. The notes—they'd been so loving. There'd been no demands from Teeg, and that's what I was used to from him. I wanted to talk to him. Ask him about Farzi and Nenzi. Ask to speak with them, tell them I was all right. Would he settle for talking or would he be as he was, only waiting for me to make the first move and then pounce like a cat, playing with a mouse but never truly letting it go? I shook my head, hunched into my knee-length wool coat against the cold wind and skipped to the location where the first girl disappeared.

  Dusk was settling in so I would have to hurry if I expected to see anything. Only a few fibers from the girl's jacket had been left behind for the authorities to collect, and those had been caught on the brick of a building near a street corner. She'd been walking home from a friend's house; they'd spent the afternoon together. The girl was fourteen and taller than I, according to the records.

  Bending over, I examined the brick carefully—I could see where it had been scraped for possible DNA samples.

  "Lose something?" I whirled to see Mr. I prefer taller women with dark hair.

  "I lost nothing," I snapped. "But some parents lost their daughter. I was looking to see if the authorities missed anything."

  "As if you'd know," he said.

  "Wait, is that sarcasm? I thought you were the master of the flat and uninflected."

  "Do you treat all your customers this way?"

  "No." My voice was sullen, now. "Do you treat all cooks this way?" I went back to studying the brick, wondering what he was doing there. I moved down toward the corner—the brick that held the fibers was several feet from there. Reaching the corner, I turned, going down the narrow alley between buildings. Nearly fifteen feet down, I found it. More fibers. They'd missed this.

  "Fuck." His voice was right behind me. He'd seen it too, shortly after I'd found it.

  "They dragged her around the corner and into this alley," I muttered, looking around. Seven days had passed since the abduction, but I pulled the small, ultra-bright penlight from my pocket and searched the alley anyway. Tulgalan doesn't use paper anything, so there was very little litter. The Falchani was breathing over my shoulder the entire time. Wanting to give him an elbow in the ribs, I chose silence instead.

  "What's this?" I pulled a collapsible metal wand from my pocket and lifted the piece. It looked to be a few links from a chain. Metal bracelets were popular among young men on Tulgalan at the moment. The Falchani was staring at the evidence, too, before hauling out a comp-vid and tapping out a rapid message. The alley was swarming with local police in no time.

  "And just who are you?" A detective leaned over me. Mr. Falchani had pulled out a badge—he was a private investigator. Go figure. I—for the moment, anyway, was just a cook for Dee's restaurant.

  "She's ex-ASD." Norian Keef sauntered into the alley. I wanted to kick his kneecap. Break it, too. I'd just been thinking of Lendill and wondering if I were going to have to play that card to get myself out of this. Instead, Norian showed up. Lendill can't fold. I can, came the mental message. "This is sloppy work if your employees missed this before," Norian went on. "I ask one of my former employees to check on this and what do we find?" Norian had already whipped out his credentials, cowing all of them. The Falchani faded away the minute Norian showed up.

  "We'll handle this from here—no need to call in the ASD," the detective snapped.

  "Then don't force us to do your work for you," Norian grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the alley.

  "Reah, they're touchy as hell about this," Norian said as soon as we got out of hearing distance. "They don't have any leads. I know you were on Bardelus—that idiot innkeeper described you. You know what happened there. I also know that you don't work for me anymore, but if you can file a report, I'd be more than grateful and it may help us track the scum responsible. Lissa is ready to go if we find Ra'Ak, and if it isn't Ra'Ak, we need to know that, too. Our agents—all of them, could be putting their lives on the line needlessly if we don't know what we're dealing with."

  "I'll file a fucking report, Norian," I said, jerking my arm from his grasp.

  "Reah, I didn't mean to be rough with you, little girl. Lendill is about to go crazy without you. Please consider throwing him a bone now and then. And file the report." Norian disappeared.

  I filed the report. In official ASD form and fashion, sending it to Lendill and copying Norian. Was I supposed to send a personal message too? I couldn't think of anything to say.

  * * *

  "I hope we have more ox-roast. We've already run out of the oxberry dessert," Oris placed the last salad on a tray for the waiter to take to a table.

  "We've got five more servings," I said. The restaurant was packed and people without reservations were turned away—it was nearly closing time. I'd suggested we send the ones we turned away through the door with a small dessert and a sampling of our other dishes. That turned grumbling into surprise. Many of them we took reservations from for the following Eight-Day.

  "The man with the long braid is back, asking for noodles," a waitress rushed into the kitchen. I'd held some back, just in case.

  "What else does he want?" I asked.

  "He wanted to try the ox-roast. I told him we might be out." She gave me a wry expression.

  "I'll put his dinner together." She actually helped, putting a light salad on a plate and taking it to him as I threw rice noodles into broth and cooking that while plating up the ox-roast.

  "There you go," I said, loading it onto a tray for the waitress to carry to the Falchani's table.

  "He wants to talk to you again," the girl winced.

  "I want to bust his nose," I muttered, making the girl laugh. I hefted the tray up and carried it to his table.

  "I had to wait two clicks to get in here."

  "I told you to call ahead," I said, settling the tray on a stand and handing off his noodle bowl, followed by the plate of ox-roast.

  "I thought you were making that up."

  "I never lie about food," I said. "Is there anything else?" I swept the tray off the stand.

  "Ex-ASD?"

  "That's what the Director said. And he's not high on my list, unless it's the list of people I never want to see again."

  "What's the problem with Director Keef?"

  "Where do you want me to start?"

  "Start with the most recent."

  "My dead daughter," I snapped and walked away.

  * * *

  "Tread lightly around Reah," Lendill said. Lok had contacted him as required, and reported on the alley incident. Lendill had already received Reah's report. "Reah has special talents, so don't ever underestimate her," Lendill went on. "Too bad you don't have mindspeech—she'd be a good contact if you ever got into a tight spot."

  "She doesn't look big enough to get herself out of a tight spot."

  "I think the last person who thought that had a knife to his throat in less than a blink. Don't fuck with her, Lok. She'll be armed and most certainly dangerous. Harm h
er and I'll see you kicked out of the service."

  * * *

  "Sorry, we're completely booked," became a byword on the third Eight-Day. This time, we sent a waiter down the line of hopefuls with a comp-vid and a tray, passing out samples and taking reservations. The Falchani learned his lesson; he had a table reserved every Eight-Day for the next six moon-turns. I found that out by checking the reserve list. His name was Lok—he'd never bothered to introduce himself.

  "Are you going to force me to serve you every time? Is this your way of torturing me?" I asked, setting his bowl of noodles down, followed by the pork special.

  "It wasn't my intention; I just thought you might want to talk."

  "Not particularly—I have a restaurant full of guests. Didn't you notice?"

  "Now who sounds sarcastic?"

  "I always sound that way. It's normal."

  "Then we'll talk when you're not working."

  "Oh, did I grow three hands taller and dye my hair?"

  "You don't dye it?"

  "This is my natural color," I said. "I have to go to work. Sorry to disappoint you and all." His face showed no emotion, but his black eyes followed me as I went to the next table when a guest waved at me.

  "It's a Falchani recipe. I went there to learn how to make it," I said when the guest asked about the noodles.

  "You're the cook?"

  "Yes," I smiled at the man. "I learned to make these noodles from an old Falchani man named Flyer, who was like a father. He let me stay in a small room in his home over the restaurant. He has one of the most popular noodle restaurants in Cedar's Falls."

  "Where else have you cooked?" The man's eyes were dancing.

  "I've cooked at the San Gerxon on Campiaa. I've cooked for the King of Karathia and the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis."

  "Does the Queen really have fifteen mates?" The man's female companion asked.

  "She has seventeen, two of whom are Falchani," I laughed. Drake and Drew would be so proud.

  "And how was the King of Karathia?"

  "He was well the last time I saw him, although he may have been in a bit of a snit when I left."

  "If you're taking your cooking away with you, I can see why," the man laughed.

  "Can we get a photo with you?" The woman asked.

  "Sure." We got one of the waiters to snap the image, after the two had squeezed together while I stood behind them, smiling the best I could. At least I was dressed better now—the clothing Teeg had left in my closet saw to that.

  * * *

  "Reah, this is Wroth." I hadn't heard from him since I'd gone to work at Dee's.

  "Hello, Wroth, what can I do for you?" He'd contacted me through comp-vid.

  "You can come down to the restaurant," he said. "I'd like to speak with you."

  "I'll be there in half a click."

  I ran through the shower, cleaning up and dressing in record time. I'd gotten to bed late the night before—I was planning short trips to other worlds where children had come up missing, in addition to working on Tulgalan's disappearances. Now, Wroth wanted to talk. Was it because I was giving out samples to people we had to turn away? Had Lok complained or some other nameless, faceless individual? I was shaking when I skipped away from my apartment.

  "Reah, I wanted to see you because of this." Wroth pushed a comp-vid across his desk. I stared at it in shock, and then stared at Wroth in shock. The vid-news contained a photograph of me posing with the two guests from the night before. When the restaurant ratings are done each year, nobody knows which food critics will be sent out to sample a restaurant's fare. This man had come every Eight-Day since I'd started cooking for Dee's. And he was the critic designated to handle the ratings this turn. Desh's still held top honors this time, but Dee's had gotten critical acclaim for their Eight-Day menu.

  "He says that if you were the head cook, Dee's would have taken the top honor, hands down."

  "Oh, dear," I sat back in my chair, shivering. I liked Silmor, although I'd never met him. Now, this would ruin everything. I could wave good-bye to any working relationship with the man.

  "Reah, Silmor has known from the beginning that you are a better cook. I'd like you to take the Master's exam." Wroth's words came from far away.

  "I need to think about it," my voice quavered as I stood. Just when I had my legs under me, something came along and knocked me down again. Silmor might say that to his employer, but he was still head cook. He could make my life unbearable. Wroth watched as I turned away from him, ready to walk out the door. Two people stood in the doorway, and the sight of them made my vision turn dark and then go black.

  * * *

  I dreamed I was crying. Someone was singing to me. That had never happened. No nanny, even, had ever sang for me. Addah wouldn't hire someone like that. Not ever. He'd hated me—a tiny babe he'd been saddled with when my mother had the temerity to die after being poisoned with a drug that made her bleed out. I'd never seen her. But the two men standing in the doorway had. One of them had even helped kill Raedah, after raping her. But then Kifirin had told me this wasn't the same man. That his spirit had been traded, somehow, for that of a future lifetime. How was that possible? The gods could shuffle your lives around like pieces on a game board?

  "Hush, Reah. Shhhh." I trembled when I woke and I was crying—I wasn't dreaming it. And the one who held me might have been the last person I'd thought to do so. Edan Desh's face was over mine. Crooning to me.

  "She's awake now," Ilvan gave my face one last brush with the cold, wet cloth before taking it away.

  "Thank the gods," Wroth said.

  "Reah, you're so small. I don't have that memory," Edan lifted me off the floor. He'd been crouched beside me, there on the floor between Wroth's desk and the door to his office.

  "Reah, Edan and Ilvan are Silmor's assistant cooks," Wroth said softly. I could only stare in shock, first at Edan, then at Ilvan.

  "We're not going to hurt you," Ilvan said softly.

  "Can you stand up, baby?" Edan asked. Why was he calling me that? I shivered.

  "It'll take time," Wroth said. "Silmor, come in here, please." Now I would know. I always knew when somebody was lying. "Silmor, Reah thinks that things will change after this review." Wroth tapped his comp-vid after Edan set me on the floor. He still had a steadying hand under my elbow.

  "Reah, I came out of retirement for this job. And as soon as I can, I'm going back to retirement. You're not hurting me at all," Silmor declared. I blinked at him. He wasn't lying. But why? Why had he come out of retirement for this job? I didn't understand.

  "Don't worry about it, Reah. You look shaken. I'll get someone to take you home." Wroth looked worried.

  "I'll be fine," I said.

  "Don't you want someone to go with you?" Edan actually seemed troubled. I couldn't reconcile that with the Edan I'd known before.

  "What were you—when Kifirin came to take you?" I asked instead. "I don't know you. The other one I knew too well." Ilvan blinked at my words—he had no idea.

  "Come." Edan steered me out of Wroth's office. "I was a pediatrician," he said, his arm around me, walking me toward the employee's entrance at the back of the restaurant. "I see he told you."

  "I'm glad you got a second chance this time, but it has to be difficult, with the criminal record," I said, turning the knob on the back door. "I'll have to get used to the fact that your face won't be connected to physical pain from now on."

  "Reah, I think if there were any way that I, or Kifirin or some of the others could take some of our mistakes back, we would. Instead, we have to go forward and try to put things behind us."

  "I need time to think," I rubbed my forehead. I had a headache.

  "Go home and lie down. Sleep if you can."

  My head was throbbing so badly, I took the bus home. Of course, Lok was waiting outside the door to the Crown Apartments.

  "The concierge wouldn't allow me inside unless you approved my visits," Lok grumbled.

  "I have a terrible hea
dache," I muttered, brushing past his wide shoulders. He followed me inside the building anyway.

  "Ms. Silver?" The concierge had a question in his voice.

  "It's all right," I waved a hand helplessly. Lok and I rode the elevator to the ninth floor.

  "This is yours?" Lok looked around when I opened the door.

  "No. It belongs to one of my mates."

  "One of your mates?"

  "Yeah. You'd think I'd have painkill around here somewhere," I sighed, heading toward the bathroom.

  "What does this mate do?" Lok was still looking around—he'd followed me right to the bathroom.

  "He's the founding member of the Campiaan Alliance."

  "You're married to Teeg San Gerxon."

  "Yeah. Anyway, that's what he says." I was going through drawers and cabinets. There wasn't any sort of medication anywhere to take for a splitting headache. "Why are you here again?" I looked up at him.

  "I wanted your help on this investigation. There's information on the bracelet links you found in the alley."

  "Fuck," I muttered. "There's a drugstore on the corner." I grabbed his arm and skipped us there. Lok stared while I attempted to read labels. "Damn," I sighed, pulling three different brands off the shelf and heading toward the self-pay chip reader.

  "How the fuck did you do that?" Lok was still staring and cursing, now that we were back inside my kitchen. I poured water in a glass and took three times the recommended dosage. It would take at least that much to have any effect.

  "What do you know about me?" I asked. "I checked your records, you're ASD. Active."

  "Lendill said you were special. He just didn't say how special," Lok grumbled.

  "Ah. Lendill. One of my other mates. Inadvertently." I wet a towel in the sink, squeezed the water from it and went to sit on the sofa, the cloth over my eyes.

  "You're married to Lendill Schaff."

  "Inadvertently."

  "Fuck. The links are from a bracelet that girl wore—Andree Wirth," he said her name. "A boyfriend gave it to her. They found DNA on those links and they can't identify it."

  "Probably Ra'Ak," I muttered. "I couldn't find anything on those other two girls. It's as if they were snatched from the air."