The Devil You Know (4 page)

We sat there, unspeaking. Behind tinted windows the sights of New Orleans slowly passed. Like the dim glow of a flickering bulb, streetlights flashed in and out, painting Jacq and me in a wash of shadows. The ever-changing light made it impossible for my eyes to adjust. Facing us, two figures sat just outside the light’s reach. No doubt the Kin, with their heightened senses, had no need for the light and had disengaged the bulb. I was certain Jacq, with her own enhanced eyesight, could see our hosts, and her thoughts were unworried. She was waiting for me to speak. I was waiting on our hosts, not ready to announce my limitations, though they likely already knew or would remember soon.

So I relaxed, letting my magic do what my eyes could not. For anything else, I’d have to wait until we reached an area where the light didn’t constantly shift. Or until some courteous soul remembered how shortsighted we mortals be and sent up a flare. Although with a magical wake flowing behind us big enough to swamp a double-decker full of Japanese tourists, anyone in NOLA with an ounce of magic would know where we were without the additional help.

I began the process of lowering my magical shielding and felt the almost undetectable touch of a power-probe as the car’s other occupants too took our measure. Offended, my demon-half rattled its cage, testing the bars. Until I eased my protections, I couldn’t return the favor to my companions, having shielded tightly all night, not wanting the jumble of magic flowing through the city’s epicenter to distract me from the woman now seated beside me.

Jacq squeezed my hand. Though it went against her nature, she was hanging back, letting me take the lead. She’d said it was my show and was honoring her word. I flashed her a tight smile. She winked at me. Jacqueline Slone was racking up some major brownie points, and she darn well knew it.

There was a smile on my face as I peeked past my shields, careful to keep my fire leashed and the beast that was my demon-half confined. I didn’t have far to look as my search stopped short, striking a wall of breath-stealing power. It permeated the air, pressing into every available crack.
Holy shit.
Or was that unholy shit? I didn’t know who, but I knew what they were.

Demons.

The word echoed in my head, even as Jacq stiffened, her grip tightening. I knew without asking she’d suspected as much. But thinking and knowing were two very different things.

Like a thousand pounds of water forcing its way through a cracked dam, the demon magic pounded into me, threatening to wash away my shields and drown my mind in the process. I should have expected this. Even when fully shielded on Bourbon Street’s sidewalk, I’d sensed this power’s outer edges. I’d been confident I could handle whatever they were packing. I was wrong. I hadn’t expected the magic to be so invasive…so aggressive. Now I was in the middle of it, and there was an ever-widening opening in my protection. The wolves were at the door, and I’d just opened it, saying, “Oh, do please come in an’ sit a spell.” And in case you need a translation, let me say it again in simpler words. I was completely. Utterly. Screwed.

I threw everything I had into shoring up my shields, temporarily patching the hole, leaning a great deal of magic against it to hold the alien force at bay. Jacq squeezed my hand, and I felt her concern in my mind. Her hot magic pooled between our palms, a reserve offered to help me, but I resisted drawing on it. Something within me said this was a challenge, one I had to resist on my own.

The worst part was that the demons didn’t even seem aware of the harm their magic had done. In fact, the magic became more concentrated. It was like a man with halitosis not understanding why the room had suddenly cleared.

Or maybe they only played the fool.
The latter seemed more likely as one of the figures leaned forward. With a barely audible electric buzz, a set of muted lights popped to life. Still softly panting from the magical gauntlet I’d just run, I blinked several times, forcing my eyes to adjust faster.

“There, that’s better. We can’t have you frying your brain simply to get a quick peek, now can we?” The cheerful tenor with no noticeable accent came from the man seated directly across from Jacq. His black hair was streaked with a white forelock. His dark charcoal Armani suit could have belonged to anyone. (Well, anyone with a big enough roll of C-notes.) But the blue eyes were shockingly familiar, as were the matching eyes of the silver-haired woman seated at his side. Unlike my Nana, whose hair was more salt-and-pepper, this woman’s short, elegant ’do was so silver it was nearly white. The color implied extreme age, but the face was wrinkled in a minimal, graceful manner that attested to either amazing genes or the world’s best plastic surgeon.

My gaze met amused eyes. Caught staring, I blushed but didn’t look away. The silver-haired woman said, “You flatter me, Miss Delacy. I hope you’ll believe me when I say, it must be as you say ‘good genes,’ since this face has been altered only by time.”

I didn’t care if Serena or Jacq took an occasional rummage around my mind, but I didn’t appreciate a stranger’s intrusion. As if synchronized, my shields went into place as Jacq battened down her own hatches. All that was left open was the mental bond connecting us.

The silver-haired woman turned, shrewdly eyeing my elegant warrior, whose hand was still in mine. “Genes—I like this human word. Apt, considering the circumstances. What do you think, Miss Delacy?”

The silence lengthened as the car slowed, waiting for the vampires keeping pace outside to lower the barricades. Distracted by the magic still pushing against my mind, I realized, belatedly, that they awaited my response. I watched the two demons, trying to focus on anything but the magic buzzing in my ears, singing to my blood, calling forth something in me I didn’t presently want to deal with.

“Honestly,” I said, “I don’t have a friggin’ clue.” I cut my eyes from the demoness’s eerily familiar light blue ones to her companion, who was trying unsuccessfully to strangle a laugh. I shifted closer to Jacq, letting my thigh rest against hers.

Waving a hand, I tried again, hoping to hide my weariness with politeness. “Please, excuse me. My patience with all this cloak-and-dagger sh…stuff has worn thin. I’m certain you didn’t invite us here to expand your vocabulary, so maybe you could explain what it is that I can do for you—” I searched for a proper title, finally saying, “Ma’am.” She wasn’t my majesty. Heck, I didn’t even know what she was queen of. But since she was a demon, I had a sinking suspicion it wasn’t something as benign as the Queen of Hearts looking for her tarts. It didn’t seem right to call a woman wearing a nearly white silk top and skirt that probably cost more than my Jeep, “Miss.” And I didn’t think she would appreciate my impression of Jerry Lee Lewis’s, “Hey laaay-deeeee.” So, ma’am it was.

The male demon cleared his throat. “May I?”

The silver-haired woman patted his knee. “Be my guest.” She folded her hands, crossing her legs in an elegant move I envied. I couldn’t hold that pose for more than a minute without fidgeting.

“Maybe an introduction first. We know you, Miss Delacy, as well as the good Detective Slone.” He gestured with a hand much darker than my own. At Jacq’s icy expression, he added, “By reputation only, of course.”

Since I hadn’t been alive long enough to garner the sort of reputation that attracted a demon’s attention,
that
was obviously directed at the woman by my side.

He said, “I’m Vanguard—bodyguard, jester, and whatever else my aunt here should require.”

With an arch look, the silver-haired woman muttered, “The last is questionable.”

Not missing a beat, he grinned. “And this is—well, we’ll skip all the long, dreadfully dull titles. This is Her Majesty, Queen of Denoir.”

I froze. Denoir? Where my mother had been trapped, had met and loved my demon father, only to leave when she’d found herself pregnant with me? That same Denoir?
Well, there certainly isn’t more than one.
I was pretty sure that sarcastic thought came from my demon-half. Too bad I couldn’t blame her for all the sarcasm that came out of my mouth. The knot in my gut was growing. And my demon-half was nearly frantic (when she wasn’t being a smartass), suspecting as I did what was coming. I jumped to listen as the man, Vanguard, kept talking.

“Genes, Miss Delacy…er Cate. May I call you Cate?”

I nodded woodenly, barely comprehending the question.

“Like I was saying, genes. My aunt was correct when she said this is about them. Or maybe you would prefer the term biological material?” There was a teasing note in his voice.

Slowly emerging from my stupor, I didn’t react to his rhetorical question.

“The fact is you, dear Cate, are carrying a portion of our family’s biological material, specifically my cousin’s.” He smiled briefly, flashing white teeth in a tan face before saying in a decidedly deeper tone, “And we want it back.”

With the cold clarity of a slap to the face, I came to my senses. I was being played. No longer able to read our minds, this one was trying to elicit a reaction. For what purpose, I was unsure. Part of me wanted to fly across the limo, jerk the demon up by his outrageously expensive lapels, and shake a sensible sentence out of him. But I suppressed the urge. I wasn’t going to play a game when I didn’t know the rules.

“Really, Van, could you be more obtuse?” The silver-haired woman turned to me. “What my melodramatic nephew is trying to say, Cate, is welcome to the family.” She patted the empty seat on her left. “Now, come…give your grandmother a kiss hello.”

I shot from my seat, remembering at the last second the car’s low ceiling. “Wha…What—” My loud stutter was cut off as the limo’s driver, another demon if I was sensing his magic correctly, lowered the partition. I eased my ramrod body back into the seat, leaning heavily against Jacq’s side. Her arm pulled me close. Maybe the interruption was fortuitous. My vocabulary was currently limited to a series of four-letter words.

The driver’s quiet “Your Majesty?” was tense. There was the sound of a commotion outside the car. As the Queen and Van conferred with the driver, I turned to the dark glass. Several of the Kin, including the one we’d spoken with earlier, flitted away. A cold fist gripped my heart.

Riding in cars with demons was
such
a bad idea.

Sharing my unease, Jacq pulled me closer. “Cate.” The limo decelerated quickly, jostling us nearly out of our seats.

Several things happened at once, the combination of which is my excuse for the transgression that followed. The limo turned quickly, screeching to a halt as a midnight funeral procession, singing a sad spiritual and bearing a pine casket on its shoulders, blocked the way. At the same time, my magical guard dropped.

Maybe it was a subconscious attempt to delay giving the demoness an answer. Maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction to what they’d said. No matter the cause, I slipped, loosening the temporary shield I’d so hastily erected to protect myself from the demon magic hissing like a strong electrical current around us. It would take only seconds to plug the breach. But as was typical for my luck, it was during those few critical moments that the shit decided to quarterback-sack the fan.

The car was still rolling to a stop when two quick successive blasts of raw uncontrolled demon magic slammed into its four-ton frame, tossing Jacq into the side door and me halfway across her body, knocking the breath from us both. There was a slew of grunts as the demons were tossed willy-nilly.

Everything happened in slow motion. The demons reacted defensively, unleashing their magic fully, forcing it outward, shielding us from the unseen attackers. The magic in the car increased a hundred-fold, snapping against my body with the force of a high-wire power line, breaching my weakened defenses effortlessly. In horror, I watched as their magic brought mine to the surface. The control I’d worked for years to gain over my fire? The chains, the cage, the locks containing my beast—each painstaking constructed consciously and unconsciously? All demolished in a heartbeat.

My demon-half, driven senseless by the magical assault from without and within, was unleashed to fight for its own survival. Sparks danced in the air as our magics reacted. My reaction time was dulled from hearing the word “grandmother” and then being tossed like a rag doll across the vehicle, leaving me too stunned to reel my magic in before another’s slapped it down. My body jerked as my inner demon was forcefully pushed back into its cage. Like a wrecking ball to the chin, the raging tide of invading magic scorched through me, physically throwing me backward. Everything went dark as my eyes snapped shut.

My still slightly fractured skull slammed into the door’s window with a loud crack, but I felt no pain. The foreign magic receded, leaving behind a trail of burned-out nerves, making it impossible to force my eyes open. The magic’s sudden absence, like a wash of cold water, cleared my mind enough to focus on just one thing.

Jacq.
Had the demons seen my unleashing of magic as cause to break their vow? Their reasons, whatever they might be, weren’t important, but the possibility that they might see their oath as void and turn on my love was.

I could hear Jacq’s roar and feel magic flying. Possibly the most concerning—the expected sound of gunfire was missing. The Queen’s undead allies were the shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of folks. If they weren’t shooting, they were probably dead—twice. I fought to stay by my love’s side, fearing what the devil we knew and the devil we didn’t might do to her.

Jacq pulled my body to hers, cradling me in strong arms. I felt the warm, familiar
zing
of her healing magic and wanted to protest. She needed her power to protect us, but I couldn’t make my mouth move. Her voice, urgent in my ear, called my name over and over. I managed to briefly force my eyes open. As she pulled me closer, my head turned, my face sliding across spider-webbed glass, leaving a trail of crimson blood behind. Through the red haze, I saw the mourners, somehow unaware of the battle raging around them, marching through the wrought-iron gates of an ancient willow-bordered cemetery. As I slipped into unconsciousness, I could hear the spiritual “There Will Come a Day” echoing to us.