Deep Dark Secret (25 page)

“He still is,” Mayhew assured me. “Just easily led astray.”

Something about the way Mayhew said it, and the way he’d called children
lambs for the slaughter
, made an alarm bell go off in my head. A tingly sensation stung the synapses all over my body as my skin rose in a forest of goose bumps. “What’s your name?”

“You know my name.”

“I know the human name you have adopted to suit the form you wear. What’s your
real
name?”

Mayhew smiled, and I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t turn away. My pearly whites were replaced with rows of sharp, pointed, sharklike teeth that appeared more than capable of creating the wound on Lucy’s neck and much worse. Mayhew tongued the tip of his demonic incisors and leered at us.

Demonic
. Yes, the thought nagging at the back of my head had formed itself into a full-on understanding. Mayhew was a demon. And not just any earth-born half-demon either. They were mischief-makers and wannabe hell-raisers at best. This guy was the real deal. An honest-to-God full-blooded demon was standing in front of me demanding I give him something.

And I had said no.

“Why do you want to know my name?” he asked almost pleasantly.

“So I can send you back to Hell.”

I should have known better than to use a snappy one-liner on a demon.

Mayhew sneered and hit me. Or at least I think he hit me. One minute I was looking at myself, the next I was flat on my back staring at the array of mold spores decorating the ceiling. Spots of light swam around me like fireflies.

Pretty.

Oh, right. Seeing dancing lights wasn’t a good thing.

Groaning, I managed to move into a sitting position. The little lights now seemed like angry wasps, and my body was insisting I lay back down. But in the few seconds since I’d been laid out, Holden and Mayhew had gotten into a knockdown drag-out fight over the fate of Lucy Renard. Miraculously, Lucy was still out cold. Even more of a miracle was the fact Holden was holding his own against Mayhew while clinging to the girl.

My vampire was a hell of a guy.

Too bad it was obvious Mayhew wasn’t putting his all into the fight. I don’t know if he was worried about damaging his supposed property, or if he thought fighting a vampire was beneath his demonic strength, but he was holding back.

“Give me the girl,” Mayhew demanded.

“No.” Holden swung and missed. Mayhew danced from one foot to the other, bobbing away from the vampire’s faster-than-light punches.

I tried to move, but the elephant parked on my chest had different ideas. Since I obviously couldn’t sass talk the demon into submission, I was going to have to do something else to distract him and give Holden a chance to escape with Lucy.

Something that didn’t involve any advanced form of locomotion.

On the bottom shelf within arm’s reach was a row of dark brown bottles with a thick layer of dust on them and labels so faded I didn’t think an archaeologist would be able to decipher them. Given that everything in the room seemed to be expired chemistry department supplies, I figured there was a good chance it might be dangerous.

Or, at the very least, irritating.

I picked up the bottle and chucked it at Mayhew. Instead of shattering dramatically, the bottle bounced off his head with a
thwock
sound and fell to the floor undamaged.

Well, shit
.

As it turns out, bashing a demon in the head with a glass bottle accomplishes two things. First, it gets their attention long enough for a vampire to land one hell of a right hook. Second, it
really
pisses them off.

“
Vile creatures
,” Mayhew hollered. Holden’s punch had caused the demon to stagger backwards into the door, cracking the weak wood frame. We were breaking an awful lot of doors at Columbia tonight. Mayhew touched his mouth, and his fingers came away bloody. “This won’t be forgotten.” He looked to me, and his red eyes glowed like lava, hot and angry. “I hope you said fond farewells to your loved ones, halfling. Tonight they all die.”

My lips parted, but I never got a chance to find out what marvelous wordsmithery was about to tumble out. Mayhew grabbed the door handle, twisting the knob into a gob of brass chewing gum, and the door buckled in half before he was able to get it open.

Then he was gone, still wearing my face.

Desmond’s phone went straight to voicemail, as did Lucas’s. I tried to sum up the problem quickly, knowing I had a dozen other calls to make before everyone I cared about was safe from…well, safe from me.

“Hey,” I told Desmond’s message. “I have an evil demon twin. He…she…it
will
kill you without question, and may try to sleep with you first. I’m sort of fuzzy on the plan. Unless I say…” I looked around for a code word to distinguish myself as the real Secret and the first thing I saw was Holden, “…Dracula, it’s not me. And you better run.”

I snapped my phone shut and ignored Holden’s disgusted expression. “You’re making excellent strides at butchering all the classics of British literature tonight.”

“The vamps ruined Stoker long before I got to him.” Vampires had a nasty habit of calling those who had been too corrupted by the thrall
Renfields
. Ick.

Holden had draped his coat over Lucy, and we had managed to get her back to her dorm room without much fuss. It was too cold and too late for most students to be outside. Lucy’s roommate was an apparent exception. I was starting to wonder if Katie was ever in their room, or if it was just a storage locker for her crap.

I left Lucas the same message I’d left Desmond, then turned my attention to the unconscious girl. We couldn’t leave her here unattended, not with Mayhew on the loose and obviously aware of where he could find her. I wanted to leave and make sure my friends were safe, but I had to protect the most vulnerable target first. Almost everyone I cared about was a supernatural creature of some kind, and though I didn’t think they could best a demon in a fight, they would be able to hold their own longer than a human.

Lucy may have been a were-ocelot, but right now she was just an injured girl who needed help. My help.

Genevieve’s cell was the next call I made.

“Hello?” If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn I called a phone-sex operator by accident. Genevieve’s voice was a sultry, inviting purr.

“Genevieve, it’s Secret.”

“Lord.” Her breath whooshed out, and it took her a moment to regain her composure. “What’s happened? What did you find?”

“We’ve got her.”

She let out an excited cry, and when she spoke again her voice was thick with emotion. “Is she…is she okay?”

“She’s alive. She’s pretty badly hurt. Her feet are cut up, and it looks like a demon took a bite out of her.”

“Did you say a
demon
?”

“Long story.”

“Where are you?” The rustle of movement interrupted our conversation, and a door slammed on her end. She was on the move.

“We’re in Lucy’s dorm room. Holden carried her back here.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I nodded and went to hang up the phone, then stopped. “Shit. Genevieve?”

“Mmm?”

“If you see me anywhere but in this room…run like hell. Understand?”

“Is that a threat?” She sounded more mystified than angry.

“No. It’s part of the long story.”

Genevieve didn’t care about my story as long as her niece was safe. She agreed not to trust me unless I was with Holden and hung up. Holden had wrapped Lucy in her twin duvet and added the one from her roommate’s bed as well. He crouched next to her and brushed an errant copper hair off her balmy forehead.

“What the hell happened down there, Secret?” he asked, but never took his attention off the girl.

“I think I pissed off a demon.”

“I believe you could piss off God himself. But that’s not what I mean.”

“I know. I wish I could explain it.” I gave him the brief rundown of my week, skipping over any werewolf-related drama and emphasizing the issues with Gabriel and Mayhew. I gave him more details about my previous evening under Mayhew’s spell.

“So he stole your memories, made you forget, then stole your appearance. Basically he wasn’t full of shit when he said he could take over your life.” If he was mad about Mayhew violating me, it didn’t show. “You need to call Sig.
Now
.”

Shit, he was right. Sig and the council hadn’t even been on my top-ten list of people I needed to warn about Mayhew, but Holden’s mind cut right through the warm-and-fuzzy stuff and went straight to business. If Mayhew got into the Tribunal’s lair and killed Sig and Juan Carlos, he could effectively destroy the entire vampire political structure.

And the council would never believe I was innocent.

I picked up my phone again to dial Sig’s number, but it began to ring before I got the chance. The boppy eighties pop song felt out of place in the somber atmosphere of the room. Next time I picked a ringtone, it was going to have to fit my lifestyle a bit better. Nine Inch Nails, maybe. Or some Alkaline Trio.

Mercedes’s number was flashing on the caller ID screen.

“Cedes, hey, can I call—”

“No, hold on. I have been trying to get in touch with you all goddamn night and your phone goes straight to voicemail. Hold your horses if you think you’re going to hang up on me right now.”

“I’m sort of in the middle of a crisis.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Seriously, I—”

She cut me off again. “What the hell happened last night? I’ve never seen you like that. You were like an amnesiac right out of a bad soap opera. And I would know, I watch
General Hospital
a
lot
.”

“Uhhh…”

“Sure. Now you’re at a loss. Do you have any clue what kind of questions I’m fielding from Tyler tonight? He’s not an idiot, Secret. He knows something out of the ordinary happened last night, and I don’t know how to explain it to him without…you know.
Telling
him.”

“Don’t.”

“Duh.” I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “But I’m going to need something to tell him that he’ll buy.”

“Tell him I had a head wound.”

“That gave you
selective
amnesia.”

“He should buy selective amnesia better than most people.”

Cedes paused. I should have known better than to say that, because she wouldn’t gloss over it. “What does
that
mean?”

“Nothing, forget it.”

“Missy, once you’re out of whatever crisis you’re in, you and I are going to have margaritas and a very,
very
long chat.”

“There’s something else.”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you see me, it’s important you ask me—”

“
Oh.
You sneaky devil, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I see you. Tell me now.”

My pulse dipped, and my blood went cold. “Cedes, no, that’s not…” But it was too late. The line was dead. And if I didn’t haul ass, more than the line would be dead soon.

“Oh God,” I breathed out, my eyes going hazy with pink as tears flooded to the surface. “Oh my God.”

“Go.” I’d forgotten Holden was there, and his voice gave me a start.

“But, what about…” I nodded to Lucy.

“I think I’m capable of taking care of her until Genevieve gets here. It’s my fault you’re messed up in this to begin with, so I’ll take my part of the responsibility now. Go.”

I wanted to believe he’d be okay without me. Logic told me he was the best person to guard Lucy, and I couldn’t help him by staying, but I needed to know I’d done all I could. I took my gun from its holster and laid it on the end of the bed.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Just in case.”

“Secret…”

“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t argue. Please.”

He forced a small smile but didn’t fight about the weapon any further.

I was halfway out the door when I skidded to a halt and turned back to him. “I need you to—”

“Call the council. Send backup. Stay alive. You need a lot.”

I nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

As I darted back out the door I heard him mutter in an irritated but mildly amused voice, “Dracula.”

On a good day Barbie looked confused. On a bad day she looked ready to spit venom when she saw me. Based on those criteria I would have said today was a good day, because she certainly looked mystified when I walked through the police station’s front doors. She stared at me, then back over her shoulder to the stairs, then back to me with both eyebrows knit together in consternation.

“Did you go out the back way,
change
, then come back?”

I’ll give the idiot girl this: it was the most logical explanation. “Yes,” I agreed.

“
Why
?”

“How else is a single girl supposed to land a handsome detective?” My voice caught in my throat. Before tonight I’d never believed there would be a situation where being a smartass would be difficult for me. Tonight I was learning it was almost impossible to be tart and clever when people you love might die because of you.

“Trust me, honey,” Barbie said with the winsome, sagelike voice of a girl who’d been there. “All you need is tits and access to Krispy Kreme. They won’t appreciate Betsey Johnson and Stella McCartney.” She waved her hand in the direction of my outfit.

Normally I’d have given her credit for her correct analysis of my ensemble. After all, what New York girl doesn’t like to talk about her clothes? But tonight I just nodded and bolted for the stairs.

The main room upstairs was so quiet my heels echoed as I crossed the tile floor at a half-run. A few detectives were seated at their desks, behaving as if it were a normal night and there wasn’t a homicidal demon in their midst.

“Where’s Castilla?” I asked a balding detective with a paunchy belly.

He didn’t look up, only jerked his thumb towards the employee-access stairs to the basement. “She and Novak just headed to the cages.”

“Thanks,” I muttered and bolted for the door, praying I wasn’t too late.