Through a Crimson Veil (13 page)

Using a wad of paper towels, Mika wiped up the excess water splashed on the periwinkle counter around the sink. The restroom of the restaurant was empty, but then the diner was sparsely occupied. She was here at an off time, the supper crowd was gone and the evening movie-goers were still watching their shows.

Mika put her purse on the dried area and, after pushing the sleeves of her fuchsia knit T-shirt from her wrists to her elbows, pulled a comb and a barrette from her bag. The shirt was comfortable, and her jeans loose and soft from repeated washing, giving her freedom of movement—something she’d need if things fell apart during the meeting. She didn’t trust human minions.

No, contrary to human legends she’d read, they weren’t controlled by demons, nor were they possessed. Which meant they could be unpredictable. And they were generally of questionable character. When a human worked for a demon, there was always something in it for them. The Council obviously believed this minion would be trustworthy—as important as this mission was, they wouldn’t use someone who hadn’t proved himself—but she felt uneasy, anyway.

When she made her rendezvous tonight, she’d be prepared for betrayal. It was the only smart thing to do.

With a grimace, Mika used the comb to gather her hair at the back of her head. When her locks were smooth, she
exchanged the comb for the clip and twisted her mane into place. The ends of her hair spiked up and out. It was a fun kind of style, and she stared at it for a moment with a smile.

It made her appear more youthful and innocent—two things that might help with the Council lackey. Of course, looking young might bring about a different kind of trouble with this guy.

Mika shrugged. She could handle a human.

She put her comb away and slung her purse strap over her head. Her money, driver’s license and comm unit were tucked into her pockets where they’d be safer, but she carried the small leather bag anyway. It, too, should add to the impression of youth. The shocking pink leather and tiny size were pure teenager.

Or Mahsei demon.

Mika laughed silently. She could easily visualize her mother using something in this style and color, and while her mom looked almost as young as Mika, she was nearly eighty. Of course, for a demon, that wasn’t even middleaged.

With one last primp in front of the mirror, Mika returned to her seat outside. The diner was ringed with booths and she’d grabbed one in the corner. Red vinyl banquettes complemented silver-and-white Formica tables, giving the place a retro feel. She liked it. More tables dotted the open floor, the red-and-chrome chairs brightening the off-white linoleum, and vintage advertising prints decorated the walls.

Mika sighed in contentment. Eating out had been a treat, but one she deserved. After being confined to Mc-Cabe’s house for days, she’d been going stir-crazy. What with the searching she’d done and the time dealing with Conor and their vishtau, she was ready for a break. Tonight she was going to relax.

“More coffee?”

Mika looked up at the waitress and said, “Yes, please.”

The woman’s uniform was as retro as the diner. She even wore a plastic pin with her name on it—Rachel. As she filled Mika’s mug, Rachel took in Mika’s changed appearance and said, “Good thing this isn’t a bar. With your new ’do, I’d have to card you.”

The waitress grinned and Mika smiled back. “Trust me, if I planned to bar-hop, you wouldn’t question my age.”

All evening Rachel had chatted with the people at her tables, and Mika found her entertaining. The woman had to be around forty, but she was full of energy and seemed to honestly enjoy people.

“Can I get you something to go with your coffee?” she asked.

Since it was her night to do as she wished—at least until her rendezvous—Mika ordered a slice of French silk pie. She lifted the mug and took a sip as the waitress left. In about half an hour or so, she’d head out. First thing to do would be calling Conor’s comm unit to leave her message. With luck, he hadn’t noticed his battery was down and she’d get voicemail. If he had realized and switched out power packs, she’d have to do some fast talking.

“I was trying to restrain my curiosity,” Rachel said as she returned and slid a pie plate onto the table, “but I have to ask. Why the change in hairstyle?”

“My lover is a little kinky.” Mika’s lips curved as she imagined Conor’s response to that statement. The man was remarkably prudish, considering he was half-Kiverian.

“He likes young girls?”

Mika heard the waitress’s disapproval and quickly said, “No, he likes to role-play. A few nights ago, I was a gold medalist in women’s wrestling.”

Rachel gave a bark of laughter. Leaning forward and lowering her voice, she said, “And now you’re doing the ‘schoolgirl.’ Well, you need the right clothes for this kind of thing. Think of his reaction if you were wearing a uniform.
You know, a short plaid skirt, a white blouse and thigh-high stockings. He’ll go wild.”

The idea delighted Mika. Just the thought of how shocked Conor would be, the look on his face that she imagined, was enough to make glee bubble inside her. “Do you know where I’d find something like that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” The waitress pulled her order pad out of her apron pocket—another old-fashioned touch—and with a pencil jotted something down. “Check this place out,” she said, handing the paper to Mika. “They have all kinds of costumes there, not just schoolgirl uniforms. You could be a maid, cheerleader or a nurse—to name a few.”

“Thanks. I’ll take a look.” Mika decided not to ask how she knew about the store. Some things were better left alone, and she had a feeling this was one of them.

As she slowly ate her dessert, Mika put aside her amusement and considered the upcoming meeting. She needed to be wary, but she couldn’t risk offending the minion either. She couldn’t do anything that could be construed as distrust of the Council, which would not be well-received if the minion were angered enough to report her. She hated the maneuvering that went hand-in-hand with politics.

With a silent sigh, Mika finished the last of her coffee. Adding a generous tip, she ran her card through the reader and paid for her meal. No more time to delay. The waitress called out, thanking her and inviting her to come again, and Mika must have made the right responses, but her mind was far away. With a wave, she walked to the door and outside.

Full night had fallen while she’d been inside, and as she stepped out into the darkness around the Moondance Diner, she let it enfold her as much as she could, given the artificial city lights and the stupid skywriters projecting ads everywhere. She ignored those as she crossed the restaurant parking lot.

She climbed in her car at the back row of the lot, shutting out the noise by closing the door. There couldn’t be any sounds in the background for this call, not with Conor’s excellent hearing. This was the part she was dreading, but she had no choice.

Mika put her purse on the passenger seat, pulled her comm unit out of her pocket and punched in McCabe’s comm. Exactly as she’d planned, she was connected to his voicemail. Adding just the right amount of frantic worry, she said, “Conor, it’s Mika. I had a call from my cousin, and she needs help. She’s with some guy who’s been drinking, and she doesn’t know anyone else at this party. I’m going to pick her up and get her back home.” She added the location of the meeting with the minion for authenticity’s sake, then disconnected. His unit would record the time, and her alibi would be solid if he started investigating.

Okay, relatively solid. Leaving the house early was one wrench in her story, but unless Conor quizzed his nosy neighbor, Mika figured she was safe.

Her bases covered, she should have felt better than she did, but as she tucked her comm in her pocket, Mika fought nausea. She’d lied again to Conor. “I’m sorry, Mc-Cabe,” she whispered almost soundlessly. But strapping herself in, she started the car. She couldn’t allow guilt to bog her down.

Mika drove the speed limit and parked a few blocks away from the rendezvous point; she’d walk the rest of the distance. Just in case.

She was in a business district, and this late at night, the area was deserted. It was eerie, like walking through a ghost town. Most of the office buildings were low-rise—maybe seven or eight stories—and the mirrored windows covering many added to the spookiness. Mika felt unsettled enough to cloak herself from human eyes.

A slight breeze played with the ends of her hair atop her head, and she tipped back her face to feel it. Wind was her
ally, and it soothed her nerves—a bit. After a moment, she continued on. The street lamps glowed gently, but they didn’t remove the strangeness.

She spotted a park a couple of blocks down, and realized it was the place mentioned by the minion. The small oasis of green tucked inside the steel-and-glass maze of Crimson City seemed oddly comforting, and Mika nearly laughed at herself. Why was she making such a production out of this?

The streetlight at the entrance was out; she noticed half a block closer and drew to a halt. Something made her shiver. Mika had been telepathically scanning since she’d parked, but now she probed the area carefully, deeply. She wasn’t very early; the minion should be close…but she sensed nothing. It was as if some void blocked her abilities.

She stayed in the shadows of one of the buildings, unwilling to move forward until she sensed her rendezvous. Something felt wrong. Way wrong. The hair on her nape prickled. Mika probed more, but didn’t pick up anyone—or anything. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned.

A figure was strolling toward her. He had waist-length blond hair, and on the sides of his face were two thin braids that he used to tie it back in a ponytail. One of the braids had something metallic threaded through it—Mika caught glints of light. The man was criminally gorgeous, with a face that would make any woman stop and look twice—maybe even three or four times.

If she didn’t know what he was.

He hadn’t cloaked completely. Mika couldn’t sense his presence, couldn’t hear him, but she saw him clearly. And only the Dark Ones wore their hair like that. Mika backed up a step and he smiled. Though it made him even prettier, the expression sent a shiver down her spine. She edged farther back.

The Dark One stopped maybe twenty feet away and dropped his cloaking. As Mika watched, he started to lift
his hand. Her adrenaline surged and she looked around almost wildly. Flight or fight.

She chose flight.

Only, she couldn’t move. He was doing something to the physical world around her. She fought, wanting nothing more than to escape before he reached her.

His smile broadened, became more real, but it wasn’t a friendly, let’s-go-have-a-beer grin. Mika’s pulse beat even faster.

“Mahsei,” the Dark One said. He inclined his head.

His tones were dulcet, but they sent repulsion through her body and Mika struggled even harder. This situation was
so
not good. Panic threatened to swamp her and she made herself take a deep breath, to think things through. Giving in to overwhelming emotion wouldn’t help.

She couldn’t move, that was fact, but what about her powers? Mika tested them quickly and found they still worked. Of course, given the type of demon this was, and the kind she was, that didn’t offer much hope, but she’d take what she had and fight.

There was no question in her mind that this demon wanted her dead. The same energy that had surrounded the trap she and Conor found that first night now emanated from him. Without doubt, he’d been the one who’d created the snare, which made Mika wonder what else this monster was capable of. Had he broken the Council code and impersonated their minion, setting up a false meeting? Or had he found the minion and forced him to make the call?

Mika shook herself. It didn’t matter how he’d drawn her here. What she had to concern herself with was getting away.

“The Council must truly be desperate to send one such as you,” the Dark One said. He could have been discussing the weather for the amount of his apparent interest, and there was an edge of disdain in his voice.

“They didn’t have many options,” Mika admitted. It didn’t surprise her that her assignment had drawn the attention
of the Dark Ones. She’d never crossed them or done anything to anger them, so what else could it be? “But do you think it’s fair to kill me? It’s not as if I can refuse any request the leaders put to me.”

Her hope to engage him in conversation was in vain. Instead of replying, the Dark One merely shrugged. Then, idly lifting his hand again, he shot an arc of fire at her.

Reflex kicked in and Mika called the wind. With all the strength she possessed, she blew the flame back at him. Mika couldn’t singe him or extinguish his fire, but she was able to keep it from touching her.

“Pitiful,” the Dark One commented, but he stopped his assault. “You’re not going to be much of a challenge.”

Mika half-laughed. “Sorry about that. Why don’t you free me and see if that makes it more fun?”

For an instant, she thought his lips twitched in reply, but the smile was gone so fast that it must have been her imagination. But the Dark One did loose whatever held her in place. She couldn’t run—it was too late for that—but maybe she could put up a halfway decent battle.

Her assailant sent another bolt of fire her way, and wind couldn’t deter it. Quickly, Mika threw up the same barrier of dense air molecules she’d used with Conor, but the rope of flame stabbed through as if it weren’t there. Mika barely had time to hit the ground. As heat warmed her cheek, she rolled, trying to get farther away.

Suddenly Mika realized her foe was toying with her; fire was probably the least of his powers. She was Mahsei, a demon of the air—not exactly the most powerful of branches. He could destroy her much easier than this.

She tried to think; there had to be some way to counter his attack, some way to go on the offensive, but she was so busy trying to keep him from cooking her that she didn’t have a chance. She did notice one thing, though. He was trying to drive her to the entrance of the park. Mika hated the feeling of being herded, but if she stayed put, the Bak-Faru would char her. He discharged another gust of fire.
She started to drop, but at the last instant realized he was aiming low. She leaped instead, levitating herself away from danger.