Demon Master (Demonsense series Book 2) (31 page)

In a very uncomfortable way, he was attached to Marton. Marton had found Leander at sixteen, brought him into his own home, had basically fostered him. It had been a completely different experience than those he’d had in other foster homes. For one thing, he couldn’t charm Marton. Not that Marton didn’t like him; he had always seemed amused by Leander, admiring his ability to manipulate, to lie and deceive. Marton couldn’t read Leander, but he could still usually predict what Leander would do, and he was powerful enough, intimidating enough that Leander had learned to obey him because an unhappy Marton was a very scary Marton. He had a cruel streak that, once activated, cut like a knife.
 

And while Leander was usually good at reading what others wanted of him, he hadn’t always been able to predict what would upset Marton. He knew that on some level, Marton thought of him as a little brother, a replacement for the one that had been killed by Keepers in some Keeper/Keltoi conflict a year or so before Marton took him in. But Marton also seemed very ready to use Leander in whatever way he saw fit. He’d taken Leander in with a plan in mind, a plan to use Leander’s unique un-readability, which he had done to the utmost. There was a coldness, a calculation to it that let Leander know not to expect Marton to truly treat him like family.
 

Marton didn’t let Leander in on the inner workings of the Clan either. In that, he was probably right because Leander didn’t really care to be involved. Marton seemed to understand his need to work on his own, to stay out of the oft times rigid Keltoi hierarchy, and Leander truly appreciated that. What he didn’t welcome was the fact that he cared what Marton thought of him, and not just because he was afraid of what Marton might do to him if he disappointed. He wanted Marton’s approval, he couldn’t help it, and Marton knew it and used it. On one level, Leander figured that most parents operated that way. But most parents weren’t Marton Varga.
 

With Scanlon, all he had to contend with was a traditionally minded Keltoi Clan Chief. Scanlon wasn’t un-dangerous, but Leander thought he’d be predictable and easy to keep happy. Leander knew he could get results, and that’s all Scanlon wanted of him. A nice, simple, business exchange.

Leander finally pulled up in front of Scanlon’s house, and was once again led by the butler towards the back of the house to Scanlon’s office. Scanlon was working at his desk, on his laptop, when Leander came in. He nodded to Leander and told him he’d be with him in a minute. The butler offered him a cup of coffee, which he took, and he stood looking out one of the windows at the view while he waited.
 

It was a windy morning, with constantly moving patches of clouds covering, then revealing the sun. The back of the house overlooked a downhill slope towards Lake Washington, whose blue length was visible in the near distance. The skyline of the suburban city of Bellevue across the lake could be seen further out, and behind that was the long line of the Cascade Mountains in their snow dusted glory. He found if he shifted to the left and looked south, he could see the lower white slopes of Mt. Rainier looming in the distance, the volcanic cone three times higher than the mountains around it, a near sentient presence whose very top was covered by clouds. He had to admit that it was a stunning view. He’d found the amount of overcast skies and drizzling rain depressing since he’d moved to Seattle, but on a day like this, where everything was green and blue and white, trees and lakes, sky and mountains, he could see the appeal of the Northwest.
 

Scanlon was finally done with whatever he’d been working on, and invited Leander to sit across from him once again while he gave his update. He filled Scanlon in on his successes with starting a connection with the McClains, and with Bree, and also relayed the incident of Bree being attacked by the young Keltoi. Then he handed over the envelope with the three hairs from Hunter.
 

“And what about Thorvaldson?” Scanlon prompted when Leander finished. “What were your impressions of him?”

“Definitely very high power, maybe the most high power I’ve felt, though the read was complicated by Thorvaldson's alcohol use. It was at a party on St. Patrick’s Day, so there was a lot of drinking going on. I would have said he was a little demon burned, which was surprising. I know he’s supposed to be a Demon Master, but I would assume, like most Keepers and Exorcists, he'd at least try to resist possession and hold it together for another decade, at least.”

“That is interesting information. I did get a report from Ms. Gambrini that on at least one occasion, Thorvaldson sought a possession in order to defeat her in battle. That was several months ago. If the possession lasted long enough, he could still be showing the effects.”

“But I wouldn’t think that being demon burned would be caused so quickly," Leander challenged. He wanted to push back a little with Scanlon, because he didn’t have more success to report on getting in with Thorvaldson himself and wanted to keep attention off that fact.

“In general, it doesn’t. But some Demon Masters are more vulnerable than others to demon contact. Type of demon contact matters as well. The higher power a demon, the greater the risk for damage to the host. Which is why, as much as hosting higher level demons grants stronger powers, intelligent Demon Masters avoid it.”

Leander knew Scanlon was speaking of himself. One reason Demon Masters didn’t often ascend to the rank of Clan Chief was the near certainty that they would become addicted to demon contact and become unstable. Only the most disciplined and cautious Demon Masters made their talent work for them over the long haul, and even then, they all eventually succumbed to the impulse to allow possession and went bat shit crazy. Marton was also very cautious as a Demon Master.
 

“In any case,” Leander went on, “it seemed clear to me that Thorvaldson is not currently involved with Bree Jenkins. I believe there has been some kind of relationship, and there seems to be some tension between them. I’d also say Thorvaldson was difficult to approach. Very guarded. Given what I read in his dossier, I get why that would be. Which is why I chose to go the route of getting in with Jenkins instead. It was ultimately fortuitous she had that run in with that young group of Keltoi. The crisis created an opportunity to quickly further trust with her.”

“How quickly?” Scanlon asked him

“I don't have her full trust, but I wouldn't expect to at this stage. And Jenkins was too traumatized to want to be social. My relationship with her is new and fragile. Is there,” he hesitated, then proceeded delicately, “some new reason to try to hurry this process along?”

Scanlon’s expression turned a little sour at that. His hands fiddled with the cup of coffee in his hands, though the rest of his tells showed calm command. “I admit I wouldn’t have seen a need to interfere at this stage of things, but the bigger picture has apparently shifted, necessitating a need for greater speed.”

Just then, there was brief knock at the office door. “Come,” Scanlon instructed, and the through the door walked Marton Varga and Franchesca Gambrini. Leander's stomach clenched. This was a surprise, and he didn’t like surprises that he wasn’t delivering.
 

Scanlon rose to shake Marton’s hand. Marton was dressed in an unusually formal manner, in a charcoal grey suit, snowy white shirt, and a green tie calculated to set off the dark green of his eyes. His chin length, dark brown hair was brushed back, and subtly gelled into place. Even all dressed up, there was an air of street-wise predator about Marton that made any half aware person want to treat him with careful respect.
 
Franchesca stood at his side, striking as usual, perhaps a shade taller than Marton’s five-eleven in her heels. Her name suited her, so much so, Leander cattily thought, she might have made it up. She looked Italian, with long, dark curly hair, dark eyes, and gorgeous bone structure. She also had lovely long legs that she liked to display in tasteful but short skirts. She had on a white one today, with a ruffle along the bottom and a green cashmere sweater set to compliment Marton’s tie.
 

It was a soft look for a hard woman. Leander knew her for a Demon Master, and a high power, battle tested Caster, as well as a high power Reader of energy and tells. She was also far enough along in being demon burned that Leander wondered why Marton was involved with her, other than what was probably the wicked sex. Politically, she was Marton’s line to the New York Keltoi she was originally a part of, though she seemed to have been adopted into Marton’s L.A. Keltoi clan.
 

She had an arm possessively hooked onto Marton, her posture canted towards him. Marton, for his part, seemed entirely focused on Scanlon.

“Good morning, Howard, I hope I find you well,” he was saying, the use of Scanlon’s first name an obvious mark of his setting himself up as Scanlon’s equal. He was, in Keltoi terms, both Scanlon’s superior and inferior. He controlled a bigger territory by far, and was more higher power overall, but being so much Scanlon’s junior in years and experience went against him in the way Keltoi hierarchy was counted. The meeting of two such men was rife with subtle plays for status and advantage.
   

“Well enough,” Scanlon replied genially. Leander watched the men’s joined hands with interest as the male dominance handshake played itself out. In Leander’s view, Marton won that one. Scanlon gestured to the couch where he had been sitting and invited Marton and Franchesca to take a seat. He offered coffee from an urn sitting on a silver tray, which both agreed to.
 

Leander was amused to see Franchesca playing the quiet, demure companion. He’d seen her screaming outbursts with Marton and with some of Marton’s flunkies. She apparently still had it enough together to come across relatively sane when she had to. He knew Marton had forbidden her demon contact in an attempt to slow down and maybe reverse some of the negative Demon Master effects, so maybe that had helped.
 

“Your man here was just filling me in on his assignment. As you’d told me, he works fast, and has already made good infiltration into Thorvaldson’s group.”

Marton finally acknowledged Leander with a smile. “He’s good all right, the best.”
In spite of himself, Leander was warmed by that smile. He tried not to let that piss him off.
 

“And I do hate to get in the middle of your action on that, but things are progressing with the war faster than anticipated. That has moved up some time lines.”

“Things are coming along slower here than they are in L.A.,” Scanlon warned.
 
He was reclining in apparent comfort in the chair next to Leander’s facing Marton and Franchesca. There was something just a little put on about his apparent relaxation. He’d know that Marton and Franchesca could read that, but he didn’t have a choice but to try and look unworried and in control. “We’ve had some incidences of social unrest, but nothing compared to the level that’s been achieved elsewhere. We don’t have the number of Demon Masters your larger clans have, so we can only call so many demons with any safety to the Demon Masters themselves. And I would have to say the population here is more stable in general.”

“Which is part of why I’m here,” Marton told him. He crossed his legs casually as he spoke. “I’d like to do what I can to help the process along. We're timing all this to come to full fruition by the end of May. By that time, we hope to have a broader support for the candidates we've formed alliances with. Which is where Thorvaldson comes in.
 
Franchesca assures me he has a reliable spell to completely hide Demon Master and Binder talents. While our goals may ultimately be reached by the strategy we have in place now, if we were able to position Binders in government without the knowledge or interference of Keepers, we would essentially be able to write our own ticket in terms of support for our business interests.”

The audacity of the plan pleased Leander. That path had been tried before, many times, over the centuries. But always, some light power cabal would uncover and take down the Binder because it wasn’t possible to hide one’s powers. But if a Binder was able to hide his or her power, and be in regular contact with figures high in government, the Keepers wouldn’t know about it. They were, as a rule, very reluctant to interfere in the normal world. Even in dealing with the Keltoi, they seldom used assassination, though that strategy that would gain them a great deal of ground in certain situations. They usually kept to the idea that they were better than the Keltoi, and wouldn’t stoop to the same tactics for fear of becoming like the people they were battling.
 

Hence the uneasy balance of power. What Keepers lacked in ruthlessness, they tended to make up for in superior training and power. Leander had observed that their great strength was in their adherence to their often apparently self-crippling morals and duty. They could seldom be bought. And being bought was the weakness of the Keltoi.
 
Clan loyalty existed, but the Keltoi, were, at bottom, a business organization, in it for the profit. Clans were not that stable, and there was a lot of moving about from one Clan to another, in search of greater position and gains. Keltoi like Marton tried to make up for that by enforcing a strict hierarchy, with sometimes deadly punishments for failure.
 

“I presume you have people working on coming up with our own version of the spell,” Scanlon said with a faint tone of condescension. Score one for Scanlon, Leander thought. He’s letting Marton know Marton is showing weakness by not being able to do it himself.

“Obviously, it's an extremely difficult spell to develop, or it would have been discovered and used long ago. My cousin shows unusual gifts in the area of casting. Daniel is well known as being unmatched among Keepers as a Caster.”

And thus Leander got his second surprise of the day. Thorvaldson was Marton’s cousin? He scanned Marton’s face, looking for any similarity. There was just a bit in those strong, Slavic cheekbones, the long eyes. Leander would guess they were related on Marton’s Hungarian mother’s side. Why hadn’t Marton told him about this? It was clearly pertinent to his current assignment. And why was he letting Leander in on it now?