Broken Heart 06 Come Hell or High Water (23 page)

Jenny screamed again, and her clammy hand was yanked from mine. I was shoved and I went ass-first down the stairs, flat against the spongy surface.

Jenny rose into the air. Panic made her eyes roll. Her sobs went silent, tears and snot dripping from her face as she struggled against the two demons holding her hostage.

The shorter one held Jenny's feet and pulled; the larger one floated in the air and held her arms, yanking and laughing.

"Keep your eyes closed, Jenny!" I commanded with my vampire glamour. "You are not afraid."

Her eyelids shut and she seemed to relax.

Using my vampire speed and agility, I shot back up the steps and slit the closest one's throat. Viscous, inky blood flooded his neck and spattered his chest. He flopped down the slide, disappearing in a hiss of atramentous smoke.

I glared at the one who still gripped Jenny's arms.

"You can't stop us," it yelled. "You will die."

I flung the tiny dagger. The blade slammed into its eye. It shrieked and dropped Jenny.

I caught her.

"Sleep," I whispered, adding another touch of glamour.

She went limp. Her mouth opened slightly; she let out a soft snore.

"I will pluck out your heart!" shouted the demon. One hand covered its profusely bleeding eye.

The air thickened with the sulfur scent of demon magic. Billowing clouds formed in the sky. Thunder echoed, and lightning shattered the dark. Wind blasted us.

Then the demon plucked out the knife and looked as though he would send it back to me. I tossed Jenny over my shoulder in a fireman's hold, took out my Glock, and shot the demon three times in the chest.

It howled. Blood and smoke leached from the wounds. Silver bullets ruled. Silver had inherent magical properties, and that was why it could harm most paranormal beings. Demons particularly hated the substance, especially when it had been blessed with white magic.

"Vampire whore!" it gurgled.

The inky smell of ozone grew sharp in the worsening wind.

"That's no way to speak to a lady," said a voice with an English accent. Berith stood next to me, his eyes glowing red. "Are you and the girl all right?"

I nodded, stunned to see him, and, hel-lo, did Berith just ask me a polite question?

He returned his gaze to the badly injured demon. He pointed his left forefinger and that long beam of red light unfurled from his sharp black talon. The whip snapped as he raised his arm, and
snick
, the beam slashed the demon in half.

I watched the demon halves smack the ground and disappear in plumes of stinky black smoke.

Patrick appeared in front of me. "Let me take her," he said. He slipped Jenny out of my arms and disappeared in a shower of gold sparkles.

I glared at Red. "What's going on?"

"War," he said with a little more relish than I thought necessary. He bared his teeth in a fearsome grin. "About damned time, too!"

"Berith!" yelled another man's voice.

We turned around. Near the picnic table, a battle raged. Berith and I hurried toward the melee.

Bryan lay on his side on the ground. Jessica had magicked her swords; she stood in front of her son, defending him from the attacking demons.

"Save some for me," bellowed Berith. His crazy whip whirled above his head as he joined in the fray.

I jumped on the back of the gray demon trying to disembowel Jess, and jabbed a dagger hilt deep into its scaly neck. It howled and tried to shake me off. I wrapped my arm around its throat and punched with my other fist, landing blows where I could. I would've used my Glock, but given the proximity of Jess and Bryan, I couldn't risk a bullet going astray.

Jessica, looking as pissed off as I've ever seen her, pierced the demon's chest and stomach with her half swords. Fairy gold didn't affect demons the way silver did, but it didn't exactly tickle, either.

Its howls went wild as it fell to its knees. I didn't leap off so much as fall onto the damp ground.

Jess twisted the swords, which made icky squishing sounds, and yelled, "
Fulaing!
"

I think it was Gaelic for, "May pain fill your every pore, you wart on the ass of humanity."

Squealing, the demon exploded into a column of smoke. The stench of rotten eggs clogged my nose.
Phew.

Somehow, the warriors had pushed the other demons away from us and toward the timberline. Jessica knelt next to her son and pushed his hair off his too pale forehead.

"Get him to the car," I said.

Jessica nodded and scooped up her son. Before she got two steps, Patrick appeared and relieved her of the burden. He kissed her and sparkled away.

Within moments he'd returned and wrapped his arm around her. "The hunters will take you to the compound, Phoebe," said Patrick.

"What about Connor?"

He had no answer for me, which worried me more than the way I was being left in the hands of the hunters.

As they sparkled away, Jess looked up, her swords clenched in her fists. Then her eyes widened.

"Phoebe!" Jessica's cry of warning nearly came too late.

I turned and managed to duck under the arms of the demon reaching for me.

Lilith's pet.

Gray scaled, with those horrible black wings, it kept its horrific xanthous gaze on me.

I slashed at it with my knives, putting my fury in every jab, but it was undeterred. The demon grinned, its eyes promising pain and retribution.

It reached for me, its thick yellow claws relentless as it slashed and slashed until I fell in my own blood. I was burning, burning, and it put the tips of its talons to my throat.

Then it was yanked away from me and Berith delivered a blow to the demon's neck that separated it from its body. Both head and body dissipated. Thank goodness they had finished off their own demon baddies.

"Thanks," I said.

"You need a pint," said Nicor. "Take from one of us."

I realized that doing so felt like cheating on Connor. I didn't want to drink from anyone but him. Not even a donor. Now, what did that mean?

I was sure Astria would point it that it was a symptom of love.

"C'mon," said Nicor. He knelt down and offered his neck. Well, better his than Berith's. I sank my fangs into his carotid artery and drank my pint quickly. I felt almost dirty, like I'd completed an adulterous act.

Get a grip, Pheebs.

I also felt better, and my body was beginning to heal. I needed another shower. Man, I was getting tired of being soaked in blood.

"For the record," I said, "I kicked total demon ass."
Take that, Larsa.
"And also, I want to go home."

"Not yet," said Nicor. "We must report to the council."

Oh, God. What now?

I stood in the official sanctum of the Broken Heart Council, which was a combination of the Oval Office and the Pentagon. The lycanthrope-vampire queen, Patricia Marchand, created the council not long after her triplets were born - about two years ago.

It was never a good thing to be called before the council in their formal meeting chambers.

Especially when you were covered in blood. I'd taken a moment to clean up as much as possible in the bathroom, but I didn't have the magic to replace my clothes.

The council had seven members: three vampires, three lycanthropes, and the queen. The vampires were Patrick O'Halloran, the son of the first vampire, Ruadan, Ivan Taganov, who was also the chairman of the Consortium, and the Ancient Zela, whose Family power was the manipulation of metallic substances. Needless to say, she had the best jewelry.

The lycanthropes were Damian, a full-blood who was head of security (and with whom I trained), the
loup de sang
Gabriel, who was also Queen Patsy's husband, and Helene, a Roma (lycans who changed only during the full moon). She'd settled in Broken Heart with her husband and her son. They were well-known for their skills in hunting rogue vampires.

Representatives of other parakind served as liaisons between their people and the council. None of them was here today. So, this was about me.

My three kitchen-destroying friends were standing about five feet to the left of me. We had an uneasy alliance, to say the least.

Queen Patsy looked regal sitting at the middle seat of the table that faced me. Her blond hair was swept into an updo, and her tailored blue suit perfectly matched her eyes. Hard to believe she used to be the town's only beautician, who lived in a double-wide behind her shop. Now she was the powerful leader of lycanthropes and vampires and the mother of another kind of werewolf (the
loup de sang
, in case you haven't been paying attention). She also had all seven powers of the Ancients. She was not someone you messed with if you valued living.

"What's going on?" I asked her.

"We will begin proceedings in a moment," she said formally. Her eyes looked like cut glass. I wasn't getting any emotion off her, which made me worry more. For all her polish these days, the queen wasn't one to hide her emotions or eschew plain speaking.

I didn't have to wonder long about when the moment would arrive.

Connor was brought in from a side door. His hands were cuffed in front of him. The manacles were made from fairy gold, and bespelled with
sidhe
magic. No one, mortal or immortal, could escape them.

He held his head up, eyes forward, back ramrod straight. His gaze bored into me. Desperation edged the fury burning in his eyes.

Connor?

He didn't respond. He didn't even look at me. The vampire Faustus stood behind Connor, looking as imposing and warrioresque as he probably had as a Roman centurion. He wore fatigues with military boots; his scarred face was a handsome kind of scary.

"What the hell is going on?" I cried. I pointed to Connor. "Why is he in handcuffs?"

Patsy ignored me.

"Connor Ballard. It has come to my attention that you moved to Broken Heart under false pretenses," said Patsy coolly.

"Just because I didn't make my intentions known doesn't make 'em false," he said.

Wow. That actually made sense. I slid a glance at Connor.

Patsy's eyes narrowed. "You failed to mention you were a demon."

"Is there a rule against demons settlin' in Broken Heart?"

The question obviously flummoxed her. The council members' faces all held various expressions of surprise, because it wasn't a question we'd ever thought would come up. Demons weren't the type of beings to settle down.

"Phoebe," snapped Patsy, "cool your jets."

"What?" My hands felt hot; I looked down and saw the black flames of demonfire licking my fists. I shook out my hands and made a conscious effort to control the magic. "Take him out of the handcuffs." I appealed to Patrick: "He saved your kid. And you put him in prison?"

"I argued against his being taken into custody," said Patrick. "I was overruled."

"Patrick," admonished Patsy.

He didn't look even a little bit sorry he'd spoken, and I was glad Connor had at least one voice on the council.

"Do you know where the talisman is?" asked Patsy.

"Yes."

"Both parts of it?"

He nodded.

"We'll need them," said Patsy. "After all, you've brought Lilith right to our door."