Through a Crimson Veil (22 page)

“Sit down,” he commanded softly.

Mika sat. She still hoped to overcome his sense of betrayal and the outrage that went with it, and so she wasn’t going to make things worse. “What else did you want to know?” she asked.

“How many others are with you?”

“What? No one. Oh, I was supposed to report in to a human minion, and he was to pass along my reports to the Council, but I only heard from him once. Maybe. That might have been a trick to get me—” She cut herself off, but again she wasn’t fast enough.

“To get you to that park? Do you even
have
a cousin?”

Offering him a weak smile, Mika said, “Of course I have a cousin. Kimi—Kimiko Noguchi—is real and as close as a sister to me. If she lived in Crimson City and—”

He cut her off. “But she doesn’t live here.”

“She’s in college at Berkeley.”

He swore. “What the hell have you told me that is true?”

Mika kept her mouth shut. If she said that she truly loved him, he’d only get pissed off all over again. Besides, she knew a rhetorical question when she heard one.

“Never mind.” Conor rubbed the back of his neck. “What about the demons that are here to kill me when you give the nod?”

“Didn’t you hear a word I said? I took this job to keep them from killing you. But even if I hadn’t, do you think I’d be involved in cold-blooded murder?” She was disgusted. What did he think of her? “I’m not part of some plot to kill you, and I don’t know why you keep insisting I am!”

Grabbing her bent leg, he tugged her across the couch until her knee bumped him. “Because I was told there were assassins waiting to take me out as soon as you had the spell.”

“Who told you that?” she asked.

“Someone I trust. Someone who’s never lied to me.”

“Whoever it is, they’re wrong. I made the Council
promise
not to hurt you.” Mika tried again to recall the exact wording of their vow, but it eluded her. “I was off balance from being called to their chambers, though, from wondering if you were my mate. Maybe I didn’t get the oath as solid as I thought.”

“You’re backpedaling pretty damn fast,” he suggested.

She gritted her teeth. “Damn it, McCabe, give me a break. I’m not part of any plot to off you. Didn’t I save your life from that auric assassin?”

“That could have been staged to win my confidence. You could simply have been acting like the lying, untrustworthy, demonic—”

Mika growled—a long, low sound. “I’m through being insulted. Yes, I lied to you. Yes, I had ulterior motives for approaching you. But that doesn’t give you unlimited free shots at me.” She fisted her hand in the neck of his T-shirt and twisted the fabric to yank him closer. “I
love
you, Mc-Cabe.” She jerked hard on his shirt when he opened his mouth to interrupt her. “I don’t care if you don’t want to hear. Deal with it. I love you and I’ll protect you with my life, so don’t you dare insinuate that I’d let anyone hurt you, let alone help them.”

With that, she released him and stood up. She needed to get away from him for a while or there was no telling what she’d say or do. She was halfway to the bedroom when he stopped her.

“Come back here.”

“No.” She didn’t quit walking.

“We need to discuss what our story is going to be when I call B-Ops. That can’t wait.”

“B-Ops? What for?” Curiosity made her turn to study his face. Conor remained expressionless.

“That dark bastard killed a friend of mine and left his body in the backyard. With the signs of a struggle in here, it shouldn’t be hard to convince the team that we had a simple break-in, but we need to get our stories straight. I don’t want them looking at you too closely. And I don’t want them to realize that Ben’s death wasn’t from natural causes. The Dark Ones are mine, and I don’t want B-Ops involved.”

Mika didn’t offer her condolences about Ben; clearly McCabe didn’t want to hear them. But her heart broke for his loss. With a sigh, she headed back to the sofa. This night wasn’t over yet.

It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Conor used his thumbnail to pick at the Evil Twin Brewery label on the bottle he held, and tried to ignore the sound of Mika’s breathing. He was at his desk and she was in bed, but he couldn’t tune her out. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough.

She wasn’t asleep. He’d only known her for days, and yet he was familiar enough with the rhythm of her breathing to know when she was and wasn’t conscious. He would have cursed, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not when he could see the coroner carting Ben away in a body bag. And damn her, Mika had stood right beside him, slipping her hand into his and holding on tight until the vehicle pulled away.

Conor gave up trying to separate the label from the glass and put the empty bottle down on his desk. She’d probably still be hanging on to him if the lead B-Ops investigator hadn’t come over. He exhaled long and slow. Mika was one hell of an accomplished liar, and he wasn’t talking about how she’d worked him over. The team had taken one glance at her innocent-looking face and fallen all over
themselves to make things easier for her after the ordeal of the break-in. Even the females of the group had bought her act hook, line and sinker. Mika was the younger sister each of them wanted to protect. Never mind that she was physically stronger than every single one of them and far more dangerous.

He’d been prepared to use a bit of mind control magic to sway the situation, but it hadn’t been necessary—not with Mika spinning out their story so skillfully. She’d added a few tears at appropriate moments, and men had fought to offer her tissues. Even the incident with her car exploding hadn’t raised any suspicion—merely speculation that she had a stalker.

Straightening in his seat, Conor ran a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. They’d stuck mostly to the truth: A male had broken into the house and attacked Mika; she’d fought him, and when Conor arrived home, the man had decided the game was up and run. Ben’s body had been the hard part, but when Mika said that he’d been coming to town to meet her and give their love his blessing, almost the whole team smiled. Smiled! What the hell?

And when someone collected his thoughts enough to ask what Ben had been doing at their house at that time of night, outside, Mika had simply shrugged and told them he’d been supposed to arrive tomorrow, but must have gotten to town early.

Thinking about it, Conor shook his head. Giving a slight tremble to her lower lip, Mika had claimed she’d been scared, in need of comfort, and Conor had been seeing to her. It wasn’t until later when Conor had gone outside that he’d discovered his friend’s body. And Mika had managed to make a fat tear roll down her cheek. Shit. The woman was wasted in Orcus; she should be on the big screen.

He heard her shift in bed, and sighed again. Maybe he should be grateful Mika had taken the spotlight. Her act had shielded them both. The idea of lying about what had happened to his friend was more than he could swallow—
and yet he’d had no choice, unless he’d wanted a government inquiry. Then she’d taken over. Conor grimaced. He’d quickly become superfluous, merely the lover who’d arrived in the nick of time.

The worst thing was, in the middle of this performance Marc Hayes had shown up. Someone must have tipped the man off, and it was the last thing they’d needed. He’d watched Mika much too closely—her damn light-colored eyes—and had asked some pointed questions. Conor wished they could have avoided the whole situation, but what was the alternative? Leave Ben in the backyard?

Such falsehoods shouldn’t weigh so heavily on him. He knew no one else in Crimson City could handle this situation, that it was up to him to take down the dark demons; but it still felt wrong. Ben had been there for him, and now…Conor cut himself off. He couldn’t think; not today. The loss was too strong. After he eliminated the dark demons, after he got Mika the hell out of his house, then he’d take the time to mourn.

Sometimes he worried about how easy it was for him to compartmentalize. Ben was probably the one person on earth who’d ever given a shit about him, and Conor had no difficulty locking down his emotions over his friend’s death. That seemed wrong. Especially when he was unable to push Mika out of his thoughts.

She shifted her body and he froze, hoping she stayed out of his way. He couldn’t look at her yet. Not with her betrayal fresh in his mind. She’d done something crueler than lie. Mika had given him hope, and then snatched it away. When he heard her settle again, he relaxed. But he couldn’t help wondering, how close had she been to locating the spell and disappearing?

She’d been through his desk—he’d caught her redhanded—and the moved coffee table gave away the bookcase as the location of her most recent search. Curious, Conor went to the shelves. Moving the table back where it went, he attempted to sense what she’d touched. It was
easy to track a person’s energy sig, but it was much harder to read traces left on inanimate objects. At least, it was difficult for him.

Closing his eyes to focus, Conor studied the shelves. It took a few minutes, but Mika’s presence was stronger at the top. He double-checked and decided that, while the energy was fainter down low, it was also more complete. She’d started there and worked up.

How close
had
she come?

Holding the palm of his hand about half an inch away from the spines of the books, he moved it across the third shelf, then the second. She’d finished with both of those—and recently too, unless he missed his guess. Conor checked the final shelf and found where she’d ended. Seven books. She’d been only seven books away from the one containing the spell.

If she’d started at the top instead of the bottom of the bookcase, she would have put her hands on it right away. If that dark demon hadn’t shown up, she might have found it tonight. He rechecked her energy sig and noted that her search had been thorough and careful—not something most people would have expected from Mika, he guessed. But her methodical approach didn’t surprise him; he’d seen how precisely she’d organized his papers.

Conor reached for the book, then shot a quick glance at the bedroom doorway. The coast was clear. Returning to the desk, he held the text and stared at it.

The binding was old but not original. Its cover was blank, no title or hint of what was inside, and there weren’t many pages. Amazing how much trouble this one slim volume had caused. It had brought Mika into his life long enough for him to trust her, to want more time with her, and then it had taken her away from him. This book was also responsible for Ben’s death, and for the dark demons trying to kill Mika.

Leaning forward, he waggled the text in his hands. For
years he’d searched for a way to call his father forward, to exact retribution for his mother’s rape. But he’d had a major obstacle—he didn’t know who had sired him. And as far as Conor could tell, there were only two ways to draw someone out of Orcus: Either the summoner used the demon’s name, or he put out a random request and took whoever showed up.

His mother had chosen option number two, not realizing she’d get a Kiverian.

But this spell…Conor ran a hand over the book’s cloth cover. He was sure he could use this spell to force his father to face him. Conor simply needed to figure out how to adapt it so that he only brought forth one particular demon and not all of them.

The incantation in its current form would give him power over all demons allegedly, but it would also open the veil between Orcus and the Overworld. That was the last thing he wanted. He was a slayer. He hunted outlaw vampires and werewolves and occasionally demons, whenever they managed to appear. It was his fondest desire to rid Crimson City of demons. Each and every one of them.

Or at least, that
had been
his goal. Conor wasn’t as dead set on it as he’d been before Mika. He shook his head. Was he going to think of life this way from now on. Before Mika and After Mika? As if on cue, she shifted in bed again, and he wondered if she were having as much trouble quieting her thoughts as he.

Conor opened the book and stared at the ornate writing. He’d spent years studying, trying to work out the phrasing he would need to call forward one specific but unnamed Kiverian. He’d examined every other summoning spell he’d found, and with the info he’d gathered, it was just a matter of time until he perfected one. Or it would have been. Before Mika.

Nothing was simple any longer.

Congratulations on the vishtau
.

He could almost hear Nat’s laughter. Conor gripped the edges of the book tightly. He should have checked out what a vishtau was immediately, but he’d been more focused on other things. Like Mika. And the demons running loose in the city. Particularly the Dark Ones.

He didn’t remember reading about the vishtau in any of his books, and no one he’d talked with had ever mentioned it until Nat. But there was one person who damn well should have told him what it meant. Her keeping it a secret had been one more manipulation, one more lie.

And she could be pregnant. Shit, he couldn’t be a father. What the hell did he know about parenting? It wasn’t like he’d had any role models. His mother had considered him her punishment for joining a cult, and his father was a brutal rapist. Conor scrubbed a hand down his face. But if the worst happened, he’d have to deal with it. He wouldn’t run from his responsibility.

Standing, he closed the spellbook with a snap and put it back on the shelf. He wanted to go into his weight room and work out some of his emotions, but he couldn’t—not with the protection down around his house. While he doubted his foes would return in the few hours left of darkness, he wouldn’t chance it. He wouldn’t be caught worn out and off guard.

Reluctantly, he went into the bedroom and stripped down to his shorts. He felt Mika awake. She was watching him, but she didn’t say anything. Good. Pulling back the covers on his side of the bed, he crawled in and tucked a hand behind his head.

Mika moved, pressing herself against his side. “Conor—”

“Don’t touch me,” he said. She froze at the coldness of his voice. Tough shit.

Her hand stroked down his chest, and his body responded. That pissed him off. Conor grabbed her hand, stopping it mid-caress, and grunted: “I said, don’t touch me.”