In the Demon's Company (Demon's Assistant Book 2) (22 page)

Both of them look vaguely surprised to see me but then relief blooms over their faces.

“Where have you been?” Azmos demands, sounding strangely like my father, and equally worried. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I say. “What happened to you?”

He waves his left hand in dismissal. “When her people tried to grab me at our planned meeting, they did not do so gently.”

“He’s being modest,” Gabriel says. “One of them shot him in the arm.”

Azmos is wearing a long-sleeved shirt but neither arm is in a sling and if there are bandages, they aren’t bulky. I wonder if demons scar, and if Azmos has any. My own scar is covered by my jacket sleeve, a long white gash along my arm that stands out against my beige skin. “Are you okay?”

“I’m all right.” Even though he looks fine, I’m relieved to hear him say it. “Gabriel was kind enough to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding.”

Gabriel shrugs, like this is par for the course. Maybe it is. Maybe when he warned me about getting caught up in the arcane, this is what he meant. Maybe I signed up for having bullets and punches flying around me. I swallow, shifting uneasily on my feet. Being punched and shot and tied to chairs is not exactly what I expected when I asked Azmos to be his assistant.

“Xanan was shot, too,” I say. Azmos doesn’t look concerned. “Is he going to be okay? He seemed… well, fine.” The fact that I’m worried about the vampiric demon who happily put Rayna down like a rabid dog should say something about how screwed up the whole situation is. I know he had to do it but that doesn’t make it hurt any less or ease my guilt.

“Xanan can withstand a lot,” Azmos said. “He is not like me, but all demons are hard to kill. And I’m fine. I won’t be trying out for professional baseball any time soon, but fine.” His joke falls flat but trying to tell one at all proves he’s not bleeding to death beneath his shirt. “What about you, Nicolette? Are you hurt?”

“No.” My wrists ache where the zip ties cut into them but my ankles are just a little bruised, my boots protecting them from equal damage. But I haven’t been punched, stabbed, or shot, so comparatively speaking, I’m peachy.

I tell them about how I was grabbed and how Vessa wants Az to bow down to her while she takes over Seattle with her undead (half-dead?) army. How most of her lackeys are only loyal because they don’t know the rules of her magic—how could they?—and they’ll do what she says if it means saving themselves. I tell them about Rayna, too, and Gabriel shakes his head sadly. Azmos remains stoic but he’s fraying on the edges. I can see all of this wearing on him.

“So what does she want?” Gabriel asks. “She builds an army of followers and then…” He twists his hands, palm-up.

“To rule the world, no doubt,” Azmos says, like he’s tired of thinking about it.

“Ruling the world is kind of vague,” Gabriel says.

“She didn’t exactly give me a manifesto or a list of goals,” I say. “She’s…” I search for a word, ice sliding down my spine as I remember her fingernails clawing my cheeks. “Unhinged.”

“She is deluded,” Azmos says, matter-of-factly. He turns his gaze to the window. Lights dance on the Sound and a white-and-green ferry cuts through the black water, sailing off to one of the nearby islands to bring commuters home.

“That’s one way to put it,” I say, mostly under my breath. Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “You saw her. She won’t listen to reason. She believes she can become a god. And she has her followers convinced that if they step out of line, they’ll drop dead, so they won’t cross her.” An acrid burn climbs my throat and I swallow it down. “And the ones who don’t believe are just terrified of being shot in the face.”

My mind starts to conjure up more images of dead people and I force them back.

“So what do we do?” Gabriel asks.

Both of us look to Azmos, who hasn’t moved in an uncomfortably long time. Not even to blink. It’s insanely creepy in a way I thought only Xanan could manage. Gabriel doesn’t look fazed by it, and I remember he’s dated a demon. He’s probably used to the way they don’t move as frequently, the way they can go still like they don’t even need to breathe for big chunks of time.

“We stop her,” I say, because it’s the only answer.

“Yes,” Azmos agrees. “She obviously cannot be reasoned with or easily captured so she needs to be stopped.” I exhale, a little bit of the tension easing out of my shoulders. Vessa is his sister, after all, and while I never thought he was going to step up beside her and be her man-at-arms, it’s nice to hear he’s definitely on Team Destroy the Bad Lady.

My phone trills, the sound of voicemail.

I dig it out of my pocket. We found my bag and jacket in a coat closet in the abandoned apartment. I’m glad none of Vessa’s people destroyed my stuff. I have a lot of missed calls and messages, mostly from the last hour. The newest voicemail is from Cam. I walk around the little apartment until I find a corner with a bar and a half, and call Cam back.

He sounds worried when he picks up. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m with Az,” I say, my stomach churning. His worry is not unjustified but I wish I could take away his anxieties. “What’s up?”

There’s a pause. A hesitation. I brace myself for the worst. I chose to be involved with demons but it’s not fair to drag Cam in. He doesn’t say “We need to talk” though. Instead, after a long silence, he asks again, “Where are you?” His voice is strained, like he’s choking something back. Is he mad at me or worried about me?

“The warehouse,” I say. He sucks in a breath. “Cam, I—” I don’t know if I’m going to apologize or even for what, but I don’t get the chance to finish.

Gabriel makes a strangled noise that sounds like a prey animal screaming as it’s caught by the teeth. He doubles over on his knees, clutching his skull. The visions strike him like lightning out of a clear sky and look like they hurt just as much.

“Cam, I have to go,” I say. “Come to the warehouse.”

“Wait, Nic—” He sounds panicked and probably wants to argue about how I shouldn’t be involved with the demons anymore, how I should just go home and put on pajamas and stick to horror movies, but Gabriel is digging his fingernails into his scalp and wincing like he’s being flayed alive, so this is not the time for this talk.

“Gotta go.” I hang up.

I rush to Gabriel’s side. There’s nothing I can do for him, but I put my hand on his shoulder so he knows he’s not alone. When the attack ends, he crumbles into a ball. He sits on the floor, back to the easy chair, knees to his chest.

“Are you okay?” I ask automatically, even though it’s painfully obvious how not okay he is.

He nods but it’s a strained motion. I go into the kitchen and pour him a glass of water. He thanks me and sips it carefully, widening his jaw like he’s trying to crack it. He drops his hand, defeated.

“Sometimes I think the visions are punishment,” he says. “For not dying like I was supposed to.”

“They aren’t,” Azmos says softly. “Your near death created a connection with forces beyond even my understanding, but I have never seen proof that the visions are malicious in nature, or even granted by a knowing entity. Some things just happen.”

Gabriel does not look comforted by this information but he doesn’t argue.

“What did you see?” Azmos prods.

“She’s going to have her army take over a ferry,” Gabriel says. “Wound everyone and make them her slaves. At least, I assume it’s her people. She’s not in the vision. And my god, there’s so much death.” He considers, staring off into the distance, eyes haunted. “It could be a bomb, but that doesn’t seem like it’d work in her favor. She needs people almost dead, not in pieces.”

“What ferry?” I ask.

He shakes his head and sips more water. “I can’t tell. The vision is too—” He waves his hands around like he’s trying to conjure the word from the air. Finally he says
, “Big.
Too many people dying, it’s too hazy. Usually it’s crystal clear, but this is…” He swallows. “This is new. None of my visions have ever been so disjointed or fuzzy before. It’s just… death. Lots and lots of death.” His eyes look haunted.

After all of the death I’ve seen, I can’t imagine having that kind of thing thrust into my mind all of the time.

“When?” Azmos asks.

“Usually they happen the next day, if they happen at all. So tomorrow evening, I guess.” He rubs his temples.

“That gives us some time,” I say. “We need to get weapons and figure out a plan. Can you tell if Vessa’s going to be there?”

“Not for sure. But Azmos never appears in the visions either, even if he saves the person,” Gabriel says, sounding dejected.

“What we need is an army of our own,” Azmos says, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“You are not suggesting you do the same thing as Vessa,” I say.

His expression changes into a scowl, the first time it’s changed all night. “Nicolette, I am not an idiot. I’m merely pointing out the more people we have on our side, the better the odds of getting her in a position to listen to reason.”

She’s never going to listen to reason. I must make a face because Azmos adds, “Or do whatever must be done.” His voice is sad but resigned. I feel bad for him. I don’t have siblings, but I know how much Cam loves Cathy, and how he’d do anything for her, so I can sort of understand his reluctance to accept that she’s gone way too far off the deep end to ever be brought back.

Before I can put my thoughts into more tactful words, something explodes beneath us.

For a split second, I think it’s an earthquake. I’ve never been in an earthquake but I can’t think of what else might rattle a concrete building like this. The walls shake. A decorative vase vibrates off an end table and smashes onto the hardwood floor.

The window that looks out onto the Sound is at the back of the building. We all look down but see nothing. Gabriel and I follow Az to the door of the flat, which leads to steel stairs and down from the third story. From the walkway on the second floor, I grip the railing of the overhanging walkway and look out over the sea of smashed marble and clay littering the floor. The antechamber between the front door is now a pile of rubble and smoke. Voices shout inaudible commands and something explodes again. It’s a small, measured explosion but it shakes the building and more statues topple and shatter.

They’re blowing the door open, I realize. The building is concrete and steel but enough firepower will get them in.

“Vessa,” I say.

“Or her army,” Azmos says grimly.

“We’re not ready to face either one,” Gabriel says. “Is there a back door?” He sounds calm, reasonable. Not at all like someone is setting off C-4 or dynamite at the entrance.

Azmos nods sharply and leads us across the walkway. Another explosion rocks the building and this time, frigid night air floods in, too. More of Xanan’s sculptures fall over and shatter like china plates, pieces skittering over the floor. Gabriel grabs me by the shoulders and I realize I’ve stopped moving. He drags me along, past Azmos’ office, past the storage closet. There’s a trapdoor in the floor. Az pulls it open. It leads to a ladder. We climb down, following Az down a back hall and to a small back door.

“They’re probably out there, too,” I say.

“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees. He opens his coat and pulls a sword from his hip. It’s a decent-sized blade and he wields it like someone who knows how to do damage.

I clutch the dagger Miranda gave me, but I’m not very confident with it and I seriously hope I don’t have to try and use it. Even though I don’t trust myself with a gun, I wish I’d held on to the one I gave Rayna. I wonder if Xanan is going to keep it. Azmos swipes a keycard and opens the door a crack. He motions for us to wait. Another explosion rocks the building and he pushes the door open at the same time.

There’s a wall between us and the front room, but the sounds of people storming in are unmistakable. Boots trample over broken ceramic and clay, crunching through the space with all the care of a stampeding horde.

We race out into an alley and the door shuts behind us, the aftermath of the explosion masking the noise. A pair of Vessa’s guards rounds the corner, walking casually until they spot us. Gunfire erupts but the guard is too far away. Gabriel grabs my hand. As we bolt across the street, my legs burn. There’s a fence that blocks off a truck parking lot, and we have to wind our way around. Gunfire explodes in the air. This part of SODO is mostly industrial so it’s largely deserted at this time of night, but I can’t imagine gunshots will go unnoticed and unreported for long, especially with the explosions that have proceeded them, not to mention the shot from Rayna’s gun earlier.

We run until my lungs are on fire and I’m pretty sure I can’t run anymore. At this point, Mrs. Mitchell, the Phys. Ed. Teacher, wouldn’t even recognize me. I’ve never run for this long in my life and the only reason I don’t stop is Gabriel’s hand pulling me along and the adrenaline pulsing in my veins.

At some point, sirens blare in the distance. We slip between other boxy buildings and come out near a bus stop. But instead of waiting for the next bus, Gabriel and Azmos keep walking.

I remember my conversation with Cam and swear. What if he’s still heading to the warehouse? It’s not safe now. Gabriel shoots me a look while I grapple for my phone. Two missed calls.