Demon Underground (2)

by S. L. Wright

  He glanced around. “Is Ram here?”

  I blew out my breath. “Damned if I know. Come into my office.”

  I took Revel to the storeroom, feeling a little self-conscious at the eyes following me. Revel was right; he’d be featured as a “mystery man” who spoke in private with the “alleged demon.” Somehow with Mystify it had been more casual, maybe because Revel lived for attention.

  “You need a better office, Allay.” He looked at the stacks of napkins and boxes of sugar packets with raised brows. “Shock says you’ve lost it, that you’re Ram’s puppet now.”

  I shook my head. “Ram hates it that I came out. He thinks I’m as delusional as she does.”

  “Allay, I was gone for only three days. What happened?”

  I wanted to tell him that I had found out the truth about him, but I had to hear what he had discovered first. “Shock and I have been fighting since I woke up from having Bliss. She hates Bliss, hates Ram, hates Mystify—”

  “Mystify is here now. Why is that?”

  “He’s a friend. He’s been . . . helpful.”

  I could see a slice of the bar through the half-open door. Mystify had followed Revel back inside. He came all the way nearly to the door to lean against the wall at the back curve of the bar, where I could see him. He was there to help me if I needed it. “What did you find out about Hope?”

  With his back to the door, Revel couldn’t see Mystify, but he knew he was close. “The scroll is authentic. A real find. There’s some damage that has to be X-rayed in order to get a complete translation, but I got a preliminary reading from a local scholar. It tells the story of a god who kills his wife’s daughter—the wife’s name is Hope. She revenges herself by selling his soul to a fellow god. Thus enslaved, she flays her husband alive for forty days and forty nights, killing him over and over again.”

  “Seriously? Did that happen to Ram?” The thought of Ram tied spread-eagle to a tree, flayed alive every day for six weeks ... “It can’t be true.”

  “That’s what the story says.”

  A demon could be killed over and over again, deliberately, slowly. I’d go insane if someone did that to me.

  “The scroll says that the god finally broke free and ripped his lover into a thousand pieces and buried them at the ends of the earth, traveling around the world for a hundred years to complete the task.”

  I wanted to cry. Vengeance, hatred, cruelty . . . it was the stuff of nightmares. No wonder Ram didn’t tell me. He didn’t want to see me recoil in horror. To think he’d gone through that . . .

  “Allay?” Revel’s tone lost that cynical edge. “Are you all right? It’s just a story, a myth.”

  Mystify had said there was a big black hole in Ram’s past, where he fell into despair. I met Mystify’s eyes. Revel’s words had called up memories in him, just as I suffered flashbacks of Plea’s tragic moments. He looked like he was stricken dumb.

  “It’s true,” I whispered.

  “Maybe you don’t want to hear about this?” Revel said.

  “I do.” I added, not so sure, “I did.”

  He shrugged, a little miffed that I wasn’t exclaiming over his find with him. “You’ve got bigger problems, Allay. You need to lie low for a while, let this all disappear.”

  “Let Emma Meyers disappear, you mean.”

  “Exactly. It’s time to move on. We all do, Allay. It’s how it works for us.” His eyes lit up. “You could go anywhere you want. The pyramids, the Left Bank, the Great Wall of China. It’s time for you to travel and get a feel for the world, not just this little corner of the city.”

  I crossed my arms. “You think you can tell me what to do.”

  He heard the warning in my voice though not the exact words. “I’m making a suggestion. I’m offering to be helpful. I think you should get out of New York for a while, make yourself scarce. So I’m offering to travel around the world with you, to see that you’re not harmed. You should be warned—Dread has put the word out that he would be very appreciative of anyone who arranged a ‘meeting’ between you and him.”

  “If he wants to see me, he can come here. Let him do his worst in front of twenty cell phones recording his every move.”

  “You’re being naive, Allay. Dread’s vendetta against you will last centuries beyond this bar. You need my help.”

  My arms were still crossed. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Revel. You were working for Vex when you killed your own offspring to make me. He ordered you to ambush Plea.”

  Revel was a very old demon, but even they could be caught by surprise. There was only an instant when he wanted to deny it; then he immediately went into appeasement mode. “I was forced to do it, Allay. Do you think I wanted to kill Plea? I liked her, though we ran in different circles. But Vex insisted. I did my best to get out of it, and I saved Shock from being his intended victim, but I couldn’t save Plea, as much as I tried.”

  “So you killed her. Or rather, I killed Plea. You tied her up and laid her on the tracks so I could run over her.” I was angrier than I had a right to be, since I already knew he was a liar. Every single thing in our relationship was based on a lie, by Vex’s order. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was the only hold I had over Vex. I used our secret to stay involved in your life, to help protect you, though you wouldn’t let Shock or me do it properly. He knew I could tell you at any time; I could turn you against him for masterminding the whole thing. Now I know why it was so important for him to retain your goodwill—he intended for you to be in Cherie’s place. But Vex is gone now, and we can start fresh, without him between us.”

  I was already shaking my head. “Get out, Revel. I can’t even look at you.”

  “Allay! I just went all the way to Uzbekistan for you—”

  “You did it for yourself. I bet there are things you’re hiding from me about that scroll.” He didn’t look guilty, but he also didn’t leap to deny it. “You always do what’s best for yourself, Revel. I’m so sick of how selfish you are. Go away.”

  His aura flushed a surprisingly deep shade of red, a sudden, blinding anger. For a second I was frightened.

  Mystify straightened up, seeing my fear. He took a step toward the door, but Revel was already turning to leave. He ran into Mystify. “Quick work,” Revel muttered at him. He didn’t glance back at me as he left.

  Mystify and I exchanged relieved looks as Revel stalked through the bar like a rejected diva. For a second back there, I was afraid Revel was going to explode. But I should have known he was too civilized for that.

  Mystify opened his mouth to say something, but the guy who had been flirting with the pretty Chinese girl got down off his barstool and stepped between us. “Now it’s my turn to have a moment with you in the closet.”

  I looked into his eyes and knew—it was Ram. There was a spark, a connection between us, and like a transparent overlay, I saw him instead of the ordinary guy. I had wondered if I would be as attracted to him in a different guise; I had grown to love the rugged, darker version of his Theo Ram face, but it made no difference that now he was blond and smooth. It was Ram; even shielded I could see him like a blaze of light within. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Why hadn’t I felt the magnetism that drew me toward him even now?

  “You should have told me you were here.” I tried to keep my voice low. He had been flirting with that girl! It was the perfect disguise for deceiving me, because I hadn’t imagined him doing something like that right in front of me.

  Bliss noticed and knew instantly that it was Ram. Mystify realized it almost as quickly. He was trapped by Ram against the wall at the back of the bar.

  To relieve Mystify, I stepped into the storeroom. Ram followed, and was careful to shut the door. “Something about the acoustics—you can hear everything that’s said in here when you’re sitting at the end of the bar.”

  I wondered how many private conversations I’d had with Lolita had been overheard by the patrons who loved those stools. “
You should have told me you were here. Instead of sneaking around and eavesdropping on me.”

  “Even if you were mostly talking about me,” he agreed. “Allay, you’ve heard everything, there is nothing more to tell. Except for this: you’re not like Hope. She never helped people, she sought out those who were in agony and she gave them hope, only to deliberately leave them hoping and never rescued. She did the same for me, telling me she would release me as she tortured me, feeding from me all the while. When I finally broke free of her, in my madness, I killed her. But it was better for the world that she was dead.”

  It hurt to hear him admit it, but I also felt bad for him. “I wish you had told me yourself, Ram. I asked you, but you wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Yes, then you wouldn’t have to hear it from my rivals. But they are always there trying to control you.” His hands clenched. “Allay, come away with me. Close down the bar, stop making a show of yourself. It can come to no good.”

  We were already standing apart, but I drew back even more. “Now you sound like Revel. At least he lets me know when he’s coming.”

  “I have to conceal myself because of the fuss you’re making. This is too dangerous, Allay. You’re going to get killed, really killed. Come away with me, and we’ll be together.”

  “Give up this megalomaniacal nonsense, right?”

  “You can’t change the world, Allay. You’ll only get hurt trying.”

  “You try. Isn’t that why you kill so many demons?”

  He almost smiled. “That’s how I know I’m right. It’s futile, Allay. Let’s go away together and forget about this. Let everything run its course without us. Let’s take some time for us, to be together, to see what kind of a future we have together.”

  It felt as if I were tied to him by a thousand strings, and those strings were tightening between us, drawing me back to him. I felt like I had to give in; I wanted to say yes, to throw myself in his arms and let him take care of everything. I could love him as fiercely as I had always longed to, give him everything, live for him, with him.

  I wavered forward, and he reached out for me, his face alight with eagerness, ready to crush me to his chest. I wanted to bury myself in him.

  I stopped myself. “I can’t.”

  “Allay ...” His arms were out to take me. “Why not?”

  “I can’t leave. I belong here. I want to be here. I don’t want to run away and hide anymore.” I gestured out to the bar. “I want to talk to them, to explain what I am, to make them understand. It’s working, Ram. I think some of them believe me.”

  “This is the lull before the storm, Allay. You’re about to be engulfed.”

  “I’m not a natural disaster.”

  “It’s going to be a disaster if you don’t stop.”

  I was breathing faster at his condescending tone. I had kicked Revel out so easily; I should have done the same with Ram. But some traitorous part of me wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him, to demand he love me for who I was.

  A hesitant knock on the door interrupted. I opened it to find Bliss. “Um, Allay, your customers are getting antsy. They came here to see a demon, you know. And there’s a woman here to speak to you. She said Michael sent her. She’s a publicist.”

  I glanced back at Ram, who was shaking his head. “No, Allay, don’t do this.”

  “You’re very tempting . . . but I can’t run away with you, Ram. This is my home.”

  I joined Bliss, whose eyes were round, as she pointed out the publicist. Ram stood in the doorway of the storeroom as I headed over to the stylish woman who was wearing too much makeup for my taste. I expected him to leave, or make a scene, but he just stood there openly watching me along with everyone else. Except for the pretty girl he had been flirting with. She was smiling at him in question, wondering why he didn’t return to her side.

  Rather than disappoint my patrons by retreating to the storeroom, I met the publicist in the front of the bar. She shook my hand with a tighter grip than was necessary, with tiny, hard fingers.

  “I’m Marissa Perone with the Perone Publicity Group. Michael Horowitz contacted me. He tried to call you but your phone doesn’t seem to be working. I’ve been watching you on the news. Not bad, not bad at all. He says you don’t want any coaching, you just want a booking agent who knows her way around the industry. That’s me. I won’t tell you to do anything—well, I’ll tell you but you don’t have to listen. Like that dark shirt, it really doesn’t work on the small screen, and with the low-rez clips that are coming out, it’s not working.”

  I laughed. She was so überpolished herself, there was no way she could understand my style. “No offense, but that’s exactly the sort of advice I don’t need.”

  She lowered her voice so the others couldn’t hear. “What about advice on your sound bites? First of all, must you call yourself a ‘demon’? Why not ‘vampire’? People really like vampires right now. They’re very hot. And that’s really what you are—an emotion vampire, right?”

  I looked over at Ram, and laughed again. He had said the exact same thing, yet they couldn’t be coming from opposite poles. That didn’t make me doubt myself, though. “I call things what they are, Ms. Perone. I don’t think this is going to work.”

  I started to turn away, but she stepped aside to block me. “Look, Ms. Meyers, I’ll stick to setting up the bookings and your fees. I’ll brief you on each interviewer, tell you their quirks and what they’re going to ask you about. All of this barroom chat is wonderful stuff, but you could reach millions on Good Morning America. Why not spread the word to as many people as possible?”

  I considered her. “Can you give me final approval on everything? No little deals behind my back.”

  For a second, I saw through her Botoxed mask to her shrewd eyes. “Yes, I can do that.”

  Over her shoulder, I saw Ram watching me. I shook her hand. “Then it’s a deal.”

  22

  Ram left right after that. Watching him go out the door hit me deep in my core, as though my eternal flame had been snuffed. I didn’t want him to go, I wanted to hold him, but he didn’t want me. He wanted some other kind of girl.

  It felt very empty without him, even with all the people who were eager to be here.

  Mystify cruised the sidewalk, never saying a word to me about what he had overheard. He was wrestling with the knowledge, too. Our ancestors had such bleak terror in their lives, monstrous deeds. How could Ram live with it?

  Bliss asked me about Ram, but there was nothing to say but “He wants me to run away with him. And I can’t do that.”

  “Fuck ’em,” Bliss said, imitating Lo’s pet phrase. “You do what you want.”

  I kept the bar open as long as the beer held out. What was supposed to last until Monday ran out by eleven o’clock Saturday. I called and left a message with the distributor, but I wasn’t sure if they could deliver on a Sunday, and through all this traffic. My neighborhood was still snarled, along with the streets around the Prophet’s Center and Arena.

  I called a car and made the security guards go out with Lolita so she wouldn’t have to deal with any of the passersby. Even after we closed down the bar and pulled the shutter, there were too many of them strolling past.

  Bliss said she was going out on the town, so I offered to join her to be safe. She laughed at the idea of me at a swing club, and I had to agree it wasn’t something I was interested in exploring at the moment. She had no fear, while I had more than my fair share. She left at the same time as Lolita.

  My first task after pulling down the shutter was to get rid of the spray-painted pentagram. Earlier I’d asked one of my regulars, Anthony, to paint over it, and he returned with all of his supplies to work on it as soon as we closed. We agreed on an undersea motif. I hoped it would be pretty enough to keep people from defacing it.

  Then I settled down inside with my new publicist, Ms. Marissa Perone, to get to work. I could feel Mystify circling outside along with the curious stragglers, who wer
e doubtless much more curious and less satisfied than when the bar had been open. It felt good knowing he was there. It also felt good having security guards stationed in the front and back.

  But I knew there was nothing that could stop a gang of demons if they really wanted to break in and get me.

  So I decided to tell all and tell it fast. I might have only a few days to get my message across before someone decided to stop me.

  Marissa laid out a list of interviews I could do right away on the Internet—it was early morning in Europe, and there were plenty of people who wanted to speak to the American demon. I also did text interviews with bloggers and made Webcam appearances in several online conference rooms. Then she left to get some sleep before my big morning show appearances, which started bright and early at five thirty a.m.

  I was waiting for her, wearing a dark shirt that had a nice collar and cuffs along with black jeans and ankle boots. I had only a couple of silver chains around my neck, tucked discreetly inside my shirt. She screwed up her lips, dying to tell me everything that was wrong, but I cut her off, trying to explain in her terms, “I can’t be polished, Marissa. I have to look awkward and natural, I have to look real.”

  At the studio, she fussed with my hair a bit, and she tried to get me to sit down in the makeup artist’s chair, but I refused. I could make my own skin matte, and darken my lashes and lips just enough so they were still natural but would “read” on camera, as Marissa kept insisting.

  As she was watching me adjust the tint in my cheeks, Marissa got a strange expression, a flash of revulsion. It was the instinctive xenophobia that humans had for bipeds who are like them, but different.

  It made me uncomfortable. It was a bad way to begin my television debut.

  I felt awkward and unreal sitting in a tiny three-sided set floating in a big sound stage filled with people and equipment with cables snaking along the floor and grids of lights overhead shining hotly into my eyes. I barely had time to meet my interviewers, Jamie something, and who was the guy? I should have known, but couldn’t remember despite Marissa’s last-minute briefing. Both were literally caked with foundation with their features carefully drawn on. I had seen their faces on the television screen, but now suddenly they looked older and uglier. Their warm personas were swallowed up by an ironclad professionalism that had gotten them to the top of their game.