by Lee, Nadia
“Ashera,” Edward called out from behind his desk as I stepped out onto the lobby floor. “There are people outside. I threatened to call the police for trespassing, but don’t think it worked.”
“Uh…okay.” So there were people outside. I didn’t understand why he looked so worried.
Until I walked out the door.
There was a huge crowd, and it converged around me like hyenas on fresh meat. “You’re the dragonlady,” someone shouted.
The rest of them were clamoring for my attention too, but I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of my heartbeat. They started grabbing at me—my hair, clothes, everything—and I almost lost my footing.
My blood grew hot; my skin tightened. The urge to fry the lot of them rose within me, almost irresistibly seductive, a siren song of power. Magic sizzled along my body. All I had to do was concentrate and pour it into the crowd. It would be a black tsunami of death.
And I wanted to. I so wanted to hurt them all, have them screaming in pain for invading my space, for thinking that they were entitled to a part of me. I owed them nothing!
Something held me back. To take life away so casually—that wasn’t right. Wasn’t even really human. That was some other being that couldn’t care less about mortals. Like a wyrm. Or Apollyon.
But that didn’t mean I was going to let them rip me apart. I conjured a shield to push the people away. It was low-grade magic and wouldn’t hurt anyone touching it—although if they tried to get too close, it would fight back.
The barrier wedged itself through the crowd, causing some people to stumble backward. A couple of them tripped over the curb, and they started yelling.
The crowd was thick enough that I still couldn’t move without hurting someone.
Your home isn’t down there. It’s at Eastvale.
Screw you, Ramiel. My frustration manifested itself in my magic, which cracked like a hundred whips around me, but I was still in control. Time to put the heartstone to good use. I visualized a blade sticking out of my feet an inch into the concrete below me. Then I saw it turn 90 degrees, extend out and rotate, scything a quick underground circle twenty feet in radius. Then it was time for a simple levitation spell, but on a scale I couldn’t have managed before.
A huge disc of concrete ripped free of the parking lot and rose around me, carrying the crowd with it. A small piece in the center stayed put under my feet. People screamed and stared at me with fear in their eyes. Two fell off the edges. Some of the TV crews—when did they have the time to scramble out here?—were outside the compass of my spell and continued to film, and I heard auto-winders clicking on cameras. I snapped my fingers, and all the equipment burst into flames. Cameramen dropped whatever they were holding and cursed.
The concrete disc was now above my head, and I walked under it like I was taking a stroll in a park. Valerie’s ruby Ferrari, right where it had been earlier, seemed to beckon. The vanity plate said PLAY2WN.
I shot out of the parking lot, allowing the concrete disc to settle slowly to the ground behind me. No one tried to follow, which was smart of them. I don’t know what I would’ve done, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.
The engine purred powerfully under the hood as I merged onto the highway, reflecting my own feeling of potent competence. It was good to be back, good to be on the way to a hunt. Maybe I should buy a Ferrari to replace my old car. Then I could get a vanity plate too. Maybe something like WRMSLYR.
Mary lived in Arlington, not too far from the office. Her father had bought her a luxury condo during the real estate boom. She was unemployed, but of course that doesn’t matter when your daddy is rich and connected.
I parked the car and climbed out. A couple of pedestrians stared at me, but I ignored them, even when they pointed. People these days. So rude.
I went up to the top floor of an ivory tower of preppie-ness. Honestly speaking, nothing else would have been in character for the senator. I’d never met the man, but I knew him well enough. He was a staunch anti-demon legislator and had no problem flaunting his religious beliefs. I stopped in front of unit 701, and only had to knock once.
The door opened a crack. “Come in, hurry!” a girl in a red silk nightgown said from the other side, looking around the hall like someone might be spying.
I stepped inside, and she slammed the door shut.
“Did you see anyone on your way here?” she asked.
“No one in particular. Was I supposed to?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She frowned. Layers of makeup covered her face like old frosting, though why she’d bothered was beyond me. We weren’t going clubbing, and she could make herself look like anything she wanted in dream. “You don’t look like a hunter.”
And you don’t look like Senator Spencer’s innocent little girl, I thought, taking in the nightgown. “Trust me, I’m a very good one. Expensive too.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
I glanced around. The place had a ton of curtains and hanging draperies and cute furniture. The floor was made of narrow wood panels, reminding me of the stage at my old high school. There was a hard rock song playing on the stereo. The air smelled fresh, no spilled Sex. Since the Selena incident, I couldn’t be too careful. And Mary—hmm. Even with the makeup, I could see dark half circles beneath her eyes. She was thin—but not too bad looking. A weak aura and a hard yet haunted cast to her eyes.
Classic incubus junkie. Was she trying to quit her habit? Most weren’t successful. There are millions of incubi ready to offer their victims the ultimate pleasure, for a price. And it wasn’t like she could start Incubolics Anonymous. Daddy wouldn’t allow it.
“Come on, this way. I read the tip sheet your company gave me so I don’t need any explanation or anything.”
I was actually kind of impressed. Most clients need a lot of reassurance before a hunt, but Mary took me straight into the master bedroom. It had a four-poster canopy bed with more lace than a fairy’s wedding dress. She kicked off her shoes and tossed herself on the mattress. “Let’s get started.”
Sixteen
Why did it have to be dark?
I blinked, but there was nothing, not even a sliver of light to reflect off my blade. I hoped Mary would turn the lights on when the demon appeared. I can fight blind, but prefer to use all my senses when possible, especially when there’s a client to protect as well as a demon to kill.
The mental link I had with Mary was very strong, almost uncomfortably so, with lots of sensory detail. Her psyche had been easy to penetrate, which was a little odd. Mary was only a bit depleted, and the barrier to her psyche should’ve resisted my invasion a little more.
Her breathing was slow and a bit erratic. Goose bumps covered her naked skin where the air skimmed over it. Then…ah, there it was. Heat, not intense enough to hurt, but enough to warm her, make her feel good. Hands as soft as suede ran over her thighs oh so slowly. Mary trembled and let out a soft gasp. The warmth tickled her left breast, right over her heart, which started beating faster. Blood suffused her skin and tightened her muscles. Fear, along with sexual thrill, turned her mouth dry. There was a smell of expensive cologne—musk and sandalwood. She recognized it, relaxed, then bit her lower lip hard.
Help.
Good girl. Light? I asked.
A spotlight appeared. We were all on a stage in an empty auditorium. Naturally. Per the client info sheet, Mary was a drama major.
She was naked, with the usual enhancements, and the demon—ah hell. It looked just like one of her father’s political rivals, a silver-haired fellow with a nose like a ruler. At least it was dressed, decked out in a charcoal gray pin-striped suit.
Mary scrambled away, as far from the demon and the light as possible, curled into a ball, tried to make herself invisible. The demon was apparently unused to such resistance. It glared, then lunged in her direction.
Too late.
I snapped my fingers. An invisible wall of containment sprang into place around us, and the demon crashed again
st it like a bird flying into a windowpane. It kept both of us inside, so the incubus couldn’t get to Mary and use her as a hostage. It was a standard safety measure and also provided a welcome buffer between my and Mary’s linked senses. I didn’t need the static from her freaking out.
Why did the thing even try to get to Mary? It should have dropped to its knees and begged for mercy. I had to be well-known in the creatures of nightmare community, given how many of them I’d killed. They probably talked about me in their creatures of nightmare bars or something. Then again, I had changed a lot and it undoubtedly couldn’t recognize me.
The demon turned toward me and hissed. I smiled.
It tried to jump, but its head hit the top of the containment field. It banged on the invisible barrier and snarled when it held.
“You’re stuck here unless you kill me.” I casually swung my sword. “Or you can take the easy way out and surrender.”
It didn’t bother to change its shape back to its real form. Twin medium-length blades appeared in its hands, reflections from the harsh stage lights running along their length. Weirdly enough, they went with the pinstripes. Conan the Politician.
“Bitch. Hunter bitch.”
How original. Yawn.
It paused, sniffing, suddenly unsure. “You’re not a hunter.”
“But still all bitch, baby.” I opened my guard slightly, trying to bait the thing. “Don’t you want to kill me? Suck my bone marrow or something?” I wanted the demon to make the first move. I wanted to beat the crap out of the damn thing before I chopped off its head.
It tested the air with its tongue and hissed again, actions that looked grotesquely disturbing on the sixtyish patrician face. “What manner of deceit is this?”
I rolled my eyes. What a dumbass. “Can you just attack?”
The demon pointed at Mary. “I want her!”
“You can’t have her. As a matter of fact, you have to leave her alone, which means you have to die.”
Guess it didn’t like being told to die, because it finally swung its swords. I blocked one and ducked under the other. The demon kicked me in the hip and jumped again, seeking a hole in the wall of containment. Its magic tried to rip my trap open, but there was no way the thing was getting away. I had a job to do—and this was probably the only part of my old life that I could really reclaim. I took a firmer grip on my sword, willing my power to bolster the wall.
Instead, it dematerialized around us.
I was just starting to wonder whether this was another Selena-like trap when dozens of large bird claws suddenly shot up out of the stage and grasped the demon, immobilizing it. Human heads with eagle beaks followed. I jumped away out of reflex, putting myself between the things and Mary. What the hell were they?
A pair of gigantic phoenixes joined us overhead. Or at least they looked like phoenixes. How many supernaturals have a snake’s neck, swallow’s beak, fish’s tail and crimson feathers?
The phoenixes dove, attacking the demon’s face, while the half-eagle things’ talons ripped into its flesh. The incubus screamed, slashed, shot out a series of offensive spells, none of which seemed to bother the other supernaturals. The magic just made them more frenzied. They shredded the thing, gobbling chunks of gore. Finally Mary’s demon succumbed, gurgling horribly. I just stared. I’d never seen anything like it before, and my stomach felt queasy. The others picked at the body until there was nothing left but bones.
Then they started gliding toward me.
Shit. I put my sword between me and the supernaturals. There were a lot of them, but I had a heartstone now. This was going to be interesting.
They stopped and stared at me, their heads tilting. The moment stretched. Finally I said the only thing I could think of.
“Shoo!”
Amazingly, they went away, bowing their heads and melting back into the ground. The phoenixes flew up and disappeared. I stood, staring and searching with all of my senses, but they were gone. How strange. Who did they work for? Their appearance didn’t seem to be random or purely benevolent.
I waited longer, half expecting an ambush or something, but there were no more supernaturals in Mary’s dream world. After a while I stepped over and took a small bone from the demon as a trophy, then severed the link between Mary and me.
Leaving a dream is easier than entering one. You feel buoyant, as if you’re rising to the surface of a particularly still and salty lake.
When I opened my eyes, I was in Mary’s bedroom. She remained curled in her bed, but should have been waking. The end of a hunt is like an interrupted dream—it forces you awake with a start.
“Mary?” I said.
No answer.
“Hey.” I reached out and touched her. She felt cold, and my heart skipped a beat. Clients aren’t supposed to be cold. “Mary!” I felt for a pulse, couldn’t find one. Her eyes were open, but vacant.
I started CPR on her. But with each compression of her chest came a realization that it wasn’t going to work. She was gone.
I’d let another person die. And I couldn’t even blame it on inexperience this time.
My fault. Again.
Or was it?
No supernatural had ever entered a dream like that during one of my hunts. So why would they suddenly decide to start now? Who would want to mess things up so I’d do as I was told?
Ramiel.
I stood up, took a step away from Mary. “Come on, Ramiel. I know you’re around here somewhere.”
He wasn’t there, and then suddenly he was, radiating vitality. His presence made the room seem smaller and somehow tawdry. My heart beat like I was a teenager on a first date. And a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature in the condo dried my mouth.
Focus, Ashera. He isn’t like you. He’s all wrong for you.
“What did you do to her?”
He gave me a look. “Pray lay the blame where it belongs, Ashera. You called the beasts into her psyche. They aren’t known for their delicacy.”
I turned to him fully. Was this another of his elaborate setups? I wanted so badly to believe it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t go this far, but I couldn’t be sure. “I didn’t ‘call’ anything. I was reinforcing my wall of containment.”
“You are a dragonlady, but also by blood a slayer. Like it or not, the slayers’ creatures will answer your summons against lesser demons. Unfortunately, you don’t yet have the level of control necessary to wield your new power with finesse.”
I must have looked skeptical, because Ramiel said, “Ashera. I give you my word I had nothing to do with this.” He went close to Mary, tilted his head as though he were listening. “Her psyche’s been ruptured.”
I hated to ask, but I had no choice. “Can you fix her?”
“Yes.”
I waited a beat. “Well?”
“Well what?” He looked at me curiously, and I could just imagine what was going on in his immortal mind. She’s going to die anyway…what’s a few decades more or less?
“It’s not fair for her to pay for my mistake.”
I couldn’t let her die because of me, but I was afraid Ramiel might not feel the same way. We’d parted badly, and I’d told him my life wasn’t with the dragonlords but with mortals. He might force me to watch Mary die so I knew I shouldn’t be among such fragile creatures.
Please don’t, I wanted to say but didn’t dare. I held my breath and waited.
“Fair.” Something flickered in his eyes, then disappeared. “Life is unfair. However, since you wish it…”
He extended a hand toward her. Power poured out, bathing her in reparative magic. It reflected off her skin, limning the room in silver, as soothing as a hymnal. I guess it was true that I was becoming more sensitive, because I could see the faint iridescent outline of her torn psyche closing up, healing and reinvesting itself in her body. I’d never seen a psyche before, not in its pure form, and it was beautiful. My knees felt weak with relief. Mary wasn’t going to die. I hadn’t screwed everything
up, and I had Ramiel to thank.
There was an agonizingly long moment. Then Mary opened her eyes.
“What happened?” she croaked.
“Nothing. The demon’s dead. Are you…are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She looked at Ramiel and there was an immediate surge of undisguised interest. “Who is he?”
I felt my eyes narrowing. Jeez…hadn’t she just been dead? “A colleague. An apprentice hunter.”
Ramiel didn’t say anything, although I did sort of feel his head turn toward me.
“You guys should open up a modeling agency or something.” She shook her head. “What a waste.”
I got her signature on the necessary documents, job completed satisfactorily, and walked outside with Ramiel. As we exited the building he gave me an odd glance, then locked and warded the door with something that looked strong enough to hold back a battalion of wyrms. Once we were in the parking lot I sagged against him. That had been close.
Your home isn’t down there. It’s at Eastvale.
I had no idea where Eastvale was or what it looked like. To give up everything I’d built here for the unknown…
No. I couldn’t do it. I was a hunter, happy with my life, and I didn’t need to go around collecting heartstones just to destroy the Triumvirate of Madainsair. There was more than one way to kill demigods. Maybe those phoenixes could help.
But…Mary. If it hadn’t been for Ramiel, she would’ve died. Because of me.
We stood in front of the Ferrari. I debated internally while he looked at me, motionless and monolithic. The shadows got longer.
I’d thought I knew why Ramiel had been helping me—to fulfill his vow. But there had to have been easier ways to honor it than to get himself another enemy in Nahemah. And he didn’t have to save Valerie or Mary. He could’ve let Valerie die. I would have blamed Semangelaf, and I would’ve gotten the heartstone to avenge my sister, no questions asked. There’s nothing like hatred and a thirst for vengeance to motivate someone.
