In the Demon's Company (Demon's Assistant Book 2) (15 page)

I nod. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Once it’s noticed, demons like him will arrive to take care of the problem themselves. And they will see me as part of it.

Xanan walks over to the back curtain, the one that separates backstage from the parts of the stage the audience can see, and whips it open.

“What do I do?” I call after him.

“If you encounter her, stop her, by any means available to you. If Azmos is there, don’t let her fog his mind with sentimental drivel.”

Which doesn’t really help me at all.

Downtown, the rain-slick streets glitter in the streetlights. It’s eerily quiet at this time of night. All of the businesses are closed and though people are walking around nearly every block, the sidewalks are far from crowded. Seattle’s Downtown shuts down at night, except for a few sporadic places, mostly concentrated on First Avenue. I head to the bus stop near Third to go back up the hill. I could walk but I’m jittery and uneasy, and would rather not.

I keep seeing the swirling silver in my mind and cold, unfeeling demons with frozen hands grabbing me from the shadows.

Someone grabs my shoulder. I whirl and look into the eyes of a strange man. He has dark hair and wears a sweatshirt beneath his puffy coat.

“Come with me,” he says. I shake my head, confused, and he waggles his pocket. I see a flash of metal: a gun. My heart pounds against my ribs. For a second, I think he’s one of the Moritas, like Xanan, but his face is red and puffy and his eyes are bloodshot like he’s been crying. He’s human. Besides, I doubt creatures like Xanan need guns. I swallow. “Come on,” he urges, tugging at my arm so hard he nearly pulls me over.

I dig my boots into the sidewalk. There’s no way in hell I’m going with him, but what do I do here? A dagger I don’t know how to use isn’t going to do any good against a bullet. But there are people around. Tired retail employees waiting for the bus, a guy smoking on the corner, a few drunk guys in Seahawks jerseys.

“Let go of me!” I yell, at the top of my lungs.

The guy with the gun looks startled. I duck and twist out of his grip like we were taught during a brief self-defense unit in Phys. Ed. I back up several feet, still aware of the gun trained on me. Several people are looking determinedly away, not wanting to get involved with whatever drama is playing out. Altercations at this bus stop are not unusual. But some people
are
watching.

“Go away!” I shout at him. One of the sports fans, a tall, dark-skinned guy who probably doesn’t realize this jerk has a gun, steps between us.

“You bothering her?” he asks.

“She—” the gun guy starts and stammers and tries to fumble for an explanation.

“Dude, back off. She doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Silently thanking the guy for interceding, I bolt down the block and then run to a taxi parked on Fifth. I don’t hear footsteps after me and don’t see the guy in the puffy coat. I suspect that gentlemen held my attacker back. But I’m still impossibly relieved when the cab pulls away from the curb. I shove cash at the driver when we reach my building and then race inside, only stopping to breathe when the security door clicks shut behind me. Then I call Cam.

Cam arrives fifteen minutes later. I don’t know what lie he told his mom so that he was allowed to race out of the house after ten on a school night, but Cam’s mom has always trusted him. Why shouldn’t she? He’s the very model of an overachieving honor student.

I double check the keyhole before opening the door and lock the bolt behind him. Cam puts his arms around me, solid and warm. “You’re okay,” he says, like he’s trying to reassure both of us that it’s true.

All I can think is, that was too close. What if no one had stepped in to help? What if the guy had shot me when I screamed? I cry into Cam’s chest, staining his hideous orange band t-shirt with black eyeliner and tears.

“I’m sure it was one of her people,” I say. “Vessa. She’s after me.”

“Why would she be after you? I thought she was building an army. People building armies aren’t usually overly picky about their soldiers. They don’t need to go after specific people.” It’s a reasonable point, and it’s true: the guy with the gun was pretty incompetent, trying to grab me with witnesses everywhere. Not a professional kidnapper. Hell, the guy was sweating so much he was probably more scared than me. But she definitely sent him after me.

I shake my head. I don’t know why. Because she’s met me, making me a target? Because we took Anna from her? But Anna was just a random person, someone home at the wrong time, nice enough to let a stranger into her house. Anna didn’t strike me as a strategic target but that doesn’t mean the crazy murderous demon isn’t offended.

“What did Azmos say?” Cam asks, sitting on the sofa.

“I called you first.”

Cam smiles and his eyes flick to my pinky ring again. The smile dims. “You should tell him.”

“Yeah,” I say. I think of his insistence that he take care of Vessa alone and Xanan’s instructions to do what I could to destroy her. “I will. I just wish there was something more helpful I could do than report some jerk trying to grab me off the street.”

“Not letting him grab you was a good start,” Cam says. “What were you even doing out? Aren’t you grounded?”

I tell him about the silver letter—he goes slightly pale—and then I spill the rest. The theater, the bodies, the hole to the Spirit Realm, all of it. Including the fact that there are apparently demons who would happily kill me just for my proximity to Azmos. By the end, Cam is up and pacing the room, snapping his fingers idly, like he’s trying to solve a particularly hard homework problem.

“You’re going to hate me for pointing this out, but there’s an obvious solution.” He stops pacing and glances out the window. The living room windows and balcony look out toward the wall of another apartment building. “Quit. Then you won’t be a target for Vessa or these Moritas.”

“I don’t think it works that way, Cam. You don’t hand in your resignation and then suddenly all ties are cut. I’m already involved.” I twist my ring around my finger. “Besides, do you really think demons like that would care? They’d probably destroy the whole city if they thought it would solve their problem. You’ve met Xanan. He’s definitely the ‘light a candle with a flame thrower’ type.”

Cam sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I suppose that’s true.”

“I feel like a complete idiot.” And maybe I am. I’m in trouble with my dad and school. I signed up to work with Azmos, never considering that even good demons might have enemies.

“Absolutely not,” Cam says without hesitation, which makes me feel a little better. He sits down next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. Warmth rushes through me at his touch. “Impulsive, maybe. A little reckless. But you’re brave, too. You’ve dealt with things most people couldn’t even comprehend and you haven’t let it break you. Honestly, you’ve kind of… thrived.”

He actually sounds impressed, which means a lot coming from Cam. I take deep breaths and try to make myself feel less shaky. After a few moments, I slump over, head in my hands. I think of Gabriel, who can’t help but be mired in the arcane world and wonder if he thinks I’m a moron for choosing to be. “Would you take Azmos’ deal?” I don’t know why I ask it but once it’s hanging in the air, I find I really want to know.

Cam considers carefully. “Maybe,” he finally says. “I guess it depends.”

“On what?” I ask.

Cam shrugs and tightens his grip around me, squeezing. “I don’t know. The situation.”

“Gabriel didn’t take it. He was going to die and he chose death.” And Mrs. Crane took Vessa’s deal, but she chose not to hurt others, decided that the cost was too high. I can’t bring myself to talk about her right now though.

“Why did you?” Cam asks, smoothing my hair back.

“It wasn’t ever a choice,” I say. “Not really.” The memory of the aftermath of the accident is hazy. I barely remember Azmos, a well-dressed figure so out of place beside the crushed car. I was in shock. And yet he offered me a chance to live and I said yes. I don’t remember hesitation of any kind.

Cam’s fingers run through my hair. “But it was, Nic. And when faced with something like that, everyone has to make their own decision.”

I sit up, uneasy from the conversation, and from the thought of demons hunting me and Az down, and from a kidnapping attempt with a gun. Suddenly I’m too tired to deal with any of it.

“I’m going to bed,” I say.

“I’m staying over,” Cam says. “I told my mom I was going to Brian’s, so…” He stands and stretches, his t-shirt riding up above his belt and exposing skin. “I think she knows, to be honest. I’m surprised she let me come.”

“All I care about is that you’re here,” I say. He reaches down and helps me stand, and then we crawl into bed. I cling tightly to him, relieved to have him solid and warm against me. I don’t think I’d manage to sleep without him, but because he’s there, I drift off pretty quickly.

The weekend passes uneventfully. I stay in like I’m supposed to, since no demon errands pop up. On Monday, I get texts from Mel during school breaks. “How’s suspension?” she asks.

“Great. Like forced vacation.”

“I’m sure,” she replies hours later, at lunch. “Have you summited Homework Mountain yet?”

I hesitate and then reply with a frowny emoji. Homework is hard enough to concentrate on in small doses but when it’s all I have to do, it’s a challenge to focus on any of it. I turn on the television for background noise and check the mail twice. I even do the dishes.

When I call the warehouse, there’s no reply. I resist the urge to go there in person, and as soon as I take my shoes back off and sit back down, the house phone rings. My dad still has a landline. Sure enough, it’s Dad, checking to make sure I’m where I’m supposed to be. He sounds relieved when I pick up, like he was betting I wouldn’t.

He’s flying back on a late flight tonight so he’ll be home tomorrow. Two more days of suspension, and I get to spend them with actual adult supervision.

At least it’ll be over soon. And hey, maybe when I’m released from my prison sentence, I’ll find out Azmos has dealt with his sister and things can go back to normal.

Dad returns on a red-eye in the early hours of Tuesday morning. When I wake up, he’s in his room snoring, but by ten am, he’s awake and camped out on the sofa, watching
Deadliest Catch
and working on his laptop.

I drag Homework Mountain from the kitchen table into my room and manage to get through most of my Spanish work. I’m in the middle of some very boring English class reading when my phone blares to life on the charger. I grab it and see it’s Azmos. Heart pounding, I pick up.

“Have you seen Gabriel?” Azmos asks, without preamble. He sounds harried, speaking faster than normal.

“No,” I say, a stone hitting my stomach. “Is he missing?”

“No, no,” Azmos says quickly. I hear tapping on the other end, like a pen tapping against a glass top. His desk, maybe. “I cannot locate him, but that’s not unusual. I need you to get him and then come to the warehouse.”