Seduced by Crimson (4 page)

Which was when she had her first black chill. It was strong enough to drop her to her knees. Her hands were sliced open on the gravel, her vision blacked out and she vomited right there in the street. It couldn't be true, her mind screamed, and yet she knew it was. Her blood burned.

There was a demon nearby. Worse, it felt like a battalion of
gun dan
demons. And they were coming to Chinatown.

From Patrick Lewis's journal.

June 7, 1985

To Patrick—Happy thirteenth birthday! May you use this journal to brighten the light that is your most inner
neart.
(That's Celtic for strength.)

Love,

Mom and Dad

First Entry:

This is a stupid journal and a stupid present. I asked for a new surfboard and an electric guitar.

No, I get this stupid book where I'm supposed to write my feelings. Well, my feelings are that this is a stupid-ass present!!!!

like I don't know this is a punishment. And it really bites that they'd give me a punishment for my thirteenth birthday. Plus I have to go to summer school. Might as well be living at juvie.

I hate math. I hate writing. I hate my parents. And it's a perfect day. Good winds. Nice sun. Great waves! Everybody else is out, but no, I have to write in my stupid-ass journal for punishment.

I HATE MY STUPID-ASS PARENTS!

Demons were in Chinatown. Run! Hide! Xiao Fei turned to do just that. There was an old bomb shelter under the shop. They used it as a storage area, but she could disappear down there.

Except, she couldn't do it. Chinatown was defenseless. She had friends here who would die without her help. But oh, the instinct to disappear was strong enough to make her breath freeze in her lungs.

She turned and headed toward the danger. She wasn't doing anything noble. Deep down, she knew that. Something else drew her, something sick and twisted in her psyche. It was the same part of her that had made her look when she was eight in Cambodia, that had made her watch as everyone she knew was slaughtered. That tortured part of her drew her outside to see the monsters.

She moved silently, all but invisible.

It was a skill she'd perfected as a Phoenix Child in Cambodia, but which she hadn't had much cause to use in the United States. Not until recently. Not until LA. started reearning its nickname as Crimson City.

In truth, she wasn't invisible, just really unnoticeable. Psychically, she hunched down inside herself. She surrounded herself with a wall of nothing-interesting-here, and
bam
, no one paid the least bit of attention to her. Not humans, not werewolves or vamps. But… demons? She wasn't sure it would work the same. But it was all the protection she had beyond the Glock now clutched in her sweaty palm.

She slid around a corner and felt nausea choke her. The demons were close, and she couldn't breathe. She slid down a wall to crouch in a shadow. If she didn't move, then she wouldn't need to take deep breaths, which meant—with luck—she wouldn't hurt.

It took some time, but eventually she got her stomach and lungs under control. Just when she was about to start moving again, the demons came around the corner. She counted four of them, plus one male human. The demons looked like she remembered: muscular humanoid bodies, ugly sharp weapons, and strange light-colored eyes. She heard their gutteral language and had to restrain a whimper. Add in the screams of the dying, and she could have been in Cambodia.

Focus! she ordered herself. She was in the US., in Los Angeles. The demons hadn't taken over… yet. There was still time to escape. But first she had to know what the phnongs were planning.

They were arguing with the human male, who apparently held some sort of sway with them. He was dressed in stylish leather, had dark hair and a rugged profile. She couldn't be sure, but she thought his eyes were dark, which marked him as definitely not demon.

She raised her gun and sighted the human's temple. There was no way she could kill all five at once, not with her one gun and not before the demons got to her. But the collaborator would die first.

Only one thing to do before pulling the trigger. She had to see if he had the demon tool: an amulet worn like a necklace with a blood-red stone and bright filigree leaves around it. Did he wear one? If so, maybe she could put a bullet through the center and end this nightmare quickly.

Unfortunately, the bastard was in profile. Though his shirt was open, he wasn't turned enough for her to see if he wore any jewelry. Turn! she ordered. Come on, phnong, show me your pretty…

"You didn't find it? God damn it!" The collaborator's pale face gained some color with his vehemence.

Xiao Fei shifted her attention slightly. Now that they were within shooting distance, she could see that the demons looked slightly the worse for wear. She saw cuts and orangy-red blood from a variety of different wounds. One even had a carved knife still sticking out of his shoulder. She briefly wondered who had managed to hurt the demons and if they were still alive. She doubted it, and a part of her sent a prayer for the dead to Buddha.

"You have to go back! You have to find—"The collaborator's words were cut off by an adamant gesture from the lead demon and growls from the others. The human visibly restrained his temper. "You're sure you killed them all?" he pressed. "Nobody had it?"

The demons were getting impatient. So was Xiao Fei. The damned man wouldn't turn.

The collaborator grimaced and pointed. "Fine. The demon researcher you want is up the street a half mile. She was on the initial team that opened the gate, but she wasn't working that night. Blue house. Swingset in back." Then he paused to stare hard at the leader. "But we're not done. We have to get—" He cut off his words, finally twisting toward her. Just a little more and she would see…

"There's someone here," he said. "Someone powerful…"

Panic blossomed in her chest. He felt her. He knew she was there. She began scrambling backward without conscious thought. She was halfway down the block before she remembered the Glock still clutched in one hand. She could have shot them. Should have, in fact, but then she'd be dead right now beneath a demon onslaught, and that would make her adoptive parents very sad.

But she could have killed the collaborator. She might never again have the chance.

Damn, she'd screwed up big time. But then that was the story of her life, wasn't it? Too scared to do anything useful. May the ancestors—and Crimson City—forgive her.

She made it into the shop in record time. She waited just inside the door, straining her senses for any signs of pursuit. Nothing. It took another hour before she relaxed enough to slip upstairs. Even so, she couldn't force herself to climb into bed as if this had been a normal night. She slithered beneath the bedframe instead, and held her Glock pointed at the door. She didn't move until her alarm went off. Then she jumped so hard she banged her head against the bed slats and nearly put a bullet through her door.

Glancing out, she saw that it was just past dawn. The demons would be hidden now. Assuming they had a coordinated plan, she figured they would strike all at once when they were ready. They'd probably wait until night for the first attack. That's what they'd done in Cambodia.

She belatedly thought of calling the authorities. After all, L.A. had a police force, right? They were much better prepared for a demon incursion than Cambodia had been.

But what would she say? Americans didn't believe in demons—not even with vamps and werewolves running around. How ludicrous! Some didn't even think real evil existed except the darkness in men's hearts and minds. Hah! Still, she had to try, didn't she?

She crawled out from under her bed long enough to call 911. Then she had the predictable conversation. No matter what she said, the operator thought she was a lunatic. After a fruitless twenty minutes, the operator finally lost her temper.

"Honey," the woman snapped. "There are no such things as demons. Now I'm sorry, but I can't talk to you any more. Not unless you have a real emergency involving blood or fire. No? Then thank you for your time and have a nice day."

The line went dead. Xiao Fei sighed and reluctantly put down her Glock. She had to open the shop. Right after she called her sister and told her to get out of Crimson City. Now. Thankfully, her parents had moved to Arizona some years ago.

She toyed with the idea of leaving too. She could be packed and on her way to her parents in a half hour. But that same twisted part of her psyche that had made her seek out the demons last night kept her in town. She was a Phoenix Tear. It was right that she be where the demons were. Even if she spent the whole time in agonizing terror. She didn't even know what she could possibly do, but she couldn't escape her fate. She belonged in Crimson City.

Which meant she had to get up and open the shop.

It never ceased to amaze her how people could continue on in a war zone. For years life had gone on with vampires and werewolves sharing this city, albeit with periods of violence and instability. Most humans simply pretended rogue vamps weren't ever on the prowl. They chose to believe the laws protecting them were enough. And who cared about werewolves infecting the unwary so long as you could get a good manicure or acupuncture treatment? Adding demons to the mix would have been surreal if it hadn't felt so freaking normal.

It was Tuesday, so there was no need to water the plants. She dragged her sorry butt to the shower and poured caffeine down her throat. Yes, she drank black tea in the shower. It saved time. This way she could be on her second pot by the time she made it downstairs to open the store.

Her first appointment was a no-show.
Thank you for making me get up for no freaking reason
. But there was a steady stream of customers for the shop's high-profit items—garlic, wolfsbane, and make-me-rich charms—so at least she was busy. As far as Xiao Fei could tell, none of the charms worked, but faith and superstition lived on.

The owner sauntered in around eleven. Mrs. Wang wrinkled her nose at the latest potpourri simmering on the decorative brazier, reminded Xiao Fei to dust the good-fortune frogs, then wandered off for her hair appointment while taking the morning receipts with her. Unfortunately, Xiao Fei had no time at all to dust—
gosh darn
—before her second appointment showed.