In the Demon's Company (Demon's Assistant Book 2) (23 page)

I hit “call” and Cam answers immediately. “Tell me you’re not inside that warehouse,” he says. His voice is strained. From his end of the phone, I can hear sirens blaring more loudly.

“No,” I say. “I’m… we ran out. We’re okay. You?”

“I’m fine. I hung back when I heard the explosions. What the hell is happening?” he demands. “This is crazy, Nic.”

“I know,” I say. My voice feels small. Smoke chokes the air. Gabriel puffs air through his nose and looks nauseated.

“You need to get very far away from there,” Cam says.

“So do you.” He sounds closer than I am and panic sets my teeth on edge.

“Get somewhere safe.” There’s a pause, like he’s desperately thinking things through. Then, so quietly I almost don’t hear it, he says, “Mel’s?”

“Maybe,” I say. I picture bringing Gabriel the bedraggled psychic and Azmos the demon to Melissa’s door. She might let us in just to demand answers, but that would put her and her family in danger, and I’m not willing to do that. It takes me a second to realize the phone has gone dead and the call has been dropped. I send Cam a quick text, “Let you know when I get somewhere. You get somewhere safe, too!” and then shove it back in my pocket.

Gabriel urges me forward. He steps in front of Azmos and leads the way to Myron’s library-slash-underground dwelling.

No one is in the study. Gabriel knocks on the bookcase that opens. A moment later, it slides open and Myron stands there bleary-eyed, his pink hair sticking up in all directions. He wears a black long-sleeved t-shirt and silky black pajama pants. He gives Gabriel an impatient look but then he notices the sword. His eyes widen and fall on Azmos. He perks up.

“Hello,” he says. Azmos nods in greeting. He looks faintly surprised to be faced with another demon. “Fun night?”

“We need to come in,” Gabriel says.

“It’s polite to ask, not demand,” Myron says, but he pulls the door open wide and ushers us all inside regardless. Gabriel hangs up his coat on the coat rack and puts away his weapons. I shove my dagger back in my bag.

“How did she know where to find us?” I ask, as soon as the bookshelf slides shut and I manage to catch my breath. “She had no idea where Azmos was earlier today. It’s why she held me without—” I shudder, unable to finish the thought. “She wanted me to tell her where to find him. So how did she find us?”

“No idea. Did she follow you?”

I shake my head. “Xanan would have known,” I say, pretty confident that that’s true. He sensed Rayna from two blocks away. Azmos confirms this with another nod. I’m not a fan of this new method of non-verbal communication but my mind in running in too many directions to add that to my list of current problems.

“She found someone who knew,” Gabriel says. He stares suspiciously at Myron, who sits beside him and gives him a dark look.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Myron says sternly. “There’s curiosity and there’s suicide. I know where the line is.” But he plays with a string that’s come loose from the cuff and doesn’t meet Gabriel’s eyes.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Azmos says.

It’s obvious Azmos doesn’t hang out around the usual arcane haunts. Myron keeps stealing glances at him like he’s some kind of legend come to life. And Xanan does not strike me as the sort to voluntarily socialize. Which means if Vessa asked around the demon circles, no one would have known where to find him. Except Myron. No wonder Gabriel suspects him.

Gabriel taps his foot on the floor until Myron gently puts a hand on his thigh. “This is a nice surprise and all, but why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” he asks.

Gabriel explains, not bothering to move Myron’s hand. He tells him about Vessa’s recent assault on the warehouse, and I think Myron’s eyes are going to pop out of his skull. As he gives him the rundown, I check my phone, only to realize there’s no service in this underground cave.

I wave my phone and excuse myself as I go out the bookcase-door and through the study, into the antechamber where the grate opens into the street above. This square of space has two bars of cell service. I have one text from Dad, asking how I am. I text back that I’m fine and return the question. He says he’s doing well and up-sold the client to the gold package, which is great for his job. I congratulate him. The normalcy of the text conversation feels surreal as I stand beneath the street in Pioneer Square in the entrance to a demon’s apartment.

I really hope things are back to normal—or what passes for normal—by the time he gets home. The thought that I might not survive this mess crosses my mind but I force it back out. Everything’s going to be fine. Xanan and Azmos and Gabriel and I will stop Vessa no matter what it takes. We’re the good guys. That’s how this works.

Cam texts me back, finally. His reply is “Stay safe. Screw the demons. Save yourself.”

I try to text him to ask if he’s going home or what, but there’s no answer.

A blast of icy air blows down through the grate. I hug my coat tightly around me. The gate opens. Xanan looks down at me, his face pale against the night sky. He smiles and it looks totally demonic. I realize, with a start, that he’s not the last person I want to see. I’m actually sort of glad he’s here.

My life is seriously messed up.

Xanan jumps down and hooks his longer fingers up through the grate, pulling it down over his head. He’s almost as tall as this room.

“You look happy,” I say, my tone dry.

Xanan’s happiness is contingent on terrible things, so it shouldn’t feel like good news but it is better than him showing up with a doom-and-gloom expression and news to match. But then again, it probably means more innocent people like Rayna are dead.

“I don’t think she’s aware how quickly I’m able to dispatch her army,” he says. “Or that I’m here at all.” He runs his fingers through his shaggy black hair and it’s such a human gesture—such a Cameron gesture—that it catches me off guard. His face looks blue in the moonlight. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue and drops his hand. “But she’s still got a stronghold of far too many, and there’s nothing to stop her from making more.”

“There’s us,” I say. And for the first time, Xanan looks at me like I might not be gum on the bottom of his shoe.

“I didn’t get it,” Xanan says, leaning against the brick. The air in the small space has turned to ice with the cold that wafts off him. It burns my cheeks. “When Azmos first recruited you to work for him, I thought he’d gone rabid.” My skin crawls. I have no doubt what Xanan would do if that was ever the case.

“And now?” I ask. “You don’t think I’m a completely useless mortal?”

“I don’t think mortals are useless,” Xanan says, scratching his chin. “I was human once, you know.”

I didn’t know that. It’s hard to even imagine. I try to see the humanity in the etched lines of Xanan’s face, in the long limbs and blue veins covered by pale skin. If I’d had to guess one of the demons had been human once upon a time, I’d have put all of my money on Azmos, but looking at Xanan now, I can see how Azmos is vibrant and alive in a way Xanan isn’t. Xanan has always reminded me of a how I thought a vampire might look if they existed. Like he’s undead.

“How…” The question dies on my tongue. I’m too tired to wrestle my thoughts into coherent sentences. Xanan understands, though.

“I was denied death and became its warden. There are others like me. Some used to be demons. Others used to be human. But we’re all the same now.” He rubs his eyes and a droplet of water runs down his cheek. A tear, I think, but no. It’s a drop of water from a melted ice crystal that had formed on his eyelash.

“You’re a grim reaper,” I say. It isn’t a question.

“Something like that.”

“Why you?” I ask.

His smile returns, mischievous. I can almost see the young man he must have been god knows how many years ago. I kind of get why Melissa is so attracted to him. If only she knew what he really is. “Just lucky I guess.” He nods at the door. “Is Azmos in there?”

“Yeah.”

Xanan doesn’t move or try to enter the Repository. I wonder if he can’t cross the threshold, but then decide that’s madness. He’s never had trouble coming or going.

Still, since he doesn’t move, I say, “I’ll go get him.”

I want to go home to sleep, but if Vessa found the warehouse, she might also know where I live. Gabriel has yet another vision about the ferry and three dozen people dying, before passing out in Myron’s bed. Myron shuts the curtain and sleeps in there, too. I wonder if they’re going to reconcile—which they apparently do a lot—or if sharing a sleeping space is simply an unavoidable thing right now. I try to stay awake but doze off on the sofa, curled in blankets because the cold lingers even after Xanan leaves to scout out more of Vessa’s guards.

When I wake up a few hours later, the apartment is pitch black save for a green glowing light in the kitchen. Because it’s underground, it lacks windows. I dig out my phone and see that it’s a little after four in the morning. The curtain that separates Myron’s bedroom area is pulled closed and soft snoring comes from the other side. The dim light of my cellphone illuminates the room. I look around the small space, the paranoia of nightmares lingering, and nearly jump high enough to hit my head on the ceiling.

Azmos is seated in a dining chair, facing me. His snake-like eyes are wide open.

“You scared me,” I say in a whisper, gasping to catch my breath. My heart slams into my ribs but its frantic pace slowly returns to normal. I reach over and click on the lamp, hoping it doesn’t bother the guys sleeping behind the curtain.

“I apologize,” he says. “I couldn’t sleep.” His normally-spiked fiery red hair is limp. He’s taken off his jacket so he wears only a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing more of those golden scales on his lower arm.

I rub at my eyes. I got maybe four hours of sleep myself, but I feel much better than I did at midnight. I walk into the kitchen and rifle through the cabinets to find more coffee, hoping Myron doesn’t mind.

I start the coffee brewing and then flop back down on the sofa. My head is foggy and my legs are sore from the unexpected marathon running we did last night. The lack of network service down here means I don’t know if Cam ever replied, but I decide it’s too cold out to go check until I’ve had some coffee. When did I become a coffee drinker? I wonder idly, as the smell of percolating breakfast roast fills the apartment. My stomach growls but I’m not comfortable enough to dig through Myron’s fridge for food.

“How are you holding up?” I ask Azmos.

He lifts his shoulders. “It’s strange. I believed her to be dead for nearly a hundred and fifty years. In all that time, I never truly wished she was alive. And yet, when I learned she was…” He puts his hands out, palm up. “I admit to being thrilled at the prospect.” He folds his hands in front of him. “I know how that must sound, given all of the damage she’s done.”

“She’s your sister,” I say. “You’re allowed to love her, even if she is campaigning for Evil Overlord of the Year.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Azmos’ lips. I jump up and fill two mugs with coffee. Azmos takes one without protest and sips at it. The guys behind the curtain don’t stir and I’m grateful. They both deserve as much sleep as they can get, especially Gabriel, who never really gets enough. I settle back onto the sofa with my mug and pull the blanket over my legs.

“I had hoped she’d become more reasonable,” he says. He rubs the brass ring again. “I use my powers to help people. There is value in what we can do. But like anything, it can be abused.”

“Why is that? That you help people, I mean?” I ask. “You told me once you tried to do what little good you could but why? You could just as easily turn your back on the world. If you didn’t use your power, Xanan wouldn’t have to keep you in check, and you’d never risk discovery.”

Azmos squeezes the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. He blinks and drops his hand. “I told you. Because I can.”

“That’s not a real answer,” I say.

He considers, tapping his fingers against the upholstery of the chair’s arm. “No. I suppose it’s not.” He heaves out a breath. After a few moments of staring at his ring, he comes to some silent decision. “When I first arrived in your realm, I was running for my life. As I told you, my kind is not trusted with our magic and any appeals to the contrary would never be heard after what Vessa did. They captured her and then came after me, so I ran here. There are cracks in the realms. I slipped through one and landed in Boston.”