Through a Crimson Veil (29 page)

They weren’t pleased by that either, but moved on to another point. She wondered if it was a very minor item and they’d squabble later, or if it was a possible deal breaker, something to be held till the end and only raised again if agreement was reached on other issues.

Fifteen minutes into discussions, en-Ulsef, the councilor holding the papers, roared a protest that the entire incantation wasn’t provided. The sudden silence in the room was overwhelming, then accusations began to fly. Nevermind that they knew this was only a gesture of good faith, not a duplicate of the spell, they were looking for an advantage and wanted her on the defensive. Mika didn’t become flustered, instead she found herself growing impatient with the theatrics. The high emotion wasn’t entirely faked—passion ran high in demons—but it was wearing thin.

When it became obvious that Mika wasn’t going to respond as many normal Mahseis would, the Council calmed down and tried a different approach. That didn’t work either. And that’s when the serious bargaining began.

It quickly became clear why nin-Siath did the majority of
the talking; she was the most skilled negotiator of the four, and Mika not only had to stay alert, she needed to think several steps ahead of the councilor. Forty-five minutes later, Mika had sweat running down her back, but they’d reached a compromise on every point—even on who would destroy the spell. They’d finally conceded that Conor could do the honors, but had insisted that the remains of the book be given to them. She hadn’t been able to find any reason not to agree to that, even if it was a rather unusual request.

They still weren’t finished.

The scribe who sat to the side of the dais read back what was agreed, and Mika and the leaders debated word choice for each and every provision, each and every sentence. It was exhausting, but it was important that there be no wiggle room for them to use and have Conor later killed.

Leaning over the scribe’s shoulder, Mika read through the document carefully, examining it for misspellings, strange-looking letters—anything that could nullify a term. The words had an odd slant because the scribe was lefthanded, but everything was as it should be. The Council hadn’t attempted to cheat, and that indicated respect for her, as well as respect for her skills as a negotiator.

“All is well?” the councilwoman asked.

Inclining her head, Mika said, “All is well, nin-Siath.” She closed her hand over her fist and bowed again. Such formality was necessary with the leaders.

“Then we shall seal the bargain.” En-Tanith held his hand out toward the scribe. When he had the contract, he laid it flat on the table in front of him, spoke quietly and pressed his finger to the paper. A fine mist rose from where he touched, and he waited for it to clear before passing the paper to the next councilor.

As chief negotiator, nin-Siath was the final councilor to place her mark. The agreement was then returned to the scribe, and Mika was bidden to press her own finger upon the page.

As the mist around her hand dissipated, the Council leader intoned, “It is done.”

Mika felt some of the tension leave her body. It had been necessary to make the bargain in this manner, to ensure every point was transcribed accurately, and that each councilor had put their seal on the pact. It was the only way to ensure whoever succeeded these councilors would be bound by the same contract.

By the time the document was properly filed, impatience ate at Mika. When they started to discuss in which manner they would travel to the portal, she grew frustrated enough to scream, but forced herself to maintain control, to wait for the members to decide who would be part of the group and which position they would assume in the array. It seemed like a bunch of bullshit to her, but she wanted them happy.

At long last, they set off. The procession of the Council and their entourage through the narrow streets of Biirkma brought more than a few curious stares. Mika tried to ignore them, but she felt sure when she returned to Orcus, she’d be facing questions about this parade.

There were only two sentinels at the portal when they arrived, but the leaders didn’t seem to think it odd, and Mika shrugged off her own uneasiness. Things must have changed during her visit to Crimson City. At an order from the Council leader, the two men stood down and moved to the side of the small room. She could only hope that Conor had waited, and that the missing guard wasn’t dragging her mate’s lifeless body off somewhere.

“Proceed,” en-Tanith dictated, and pointed toward the gate.

Mika slowly approached the portal. When she reached it she turned back to the Council and said, “I need to straddle the veil to make a small part of it transparent. I am not leaving.” She wanted that clear. “You’ll be able to talk directly to McCabe through this window that I create.”

She received permission to continue, and Mika stepped
into the door. Holding out her hands so that her palms were flat, she concentrated all her being on making the gateway’s molecules transparent. Slowly, the veil began to clear.

Conor was ready to climb the walls. Or to charge through the veil. If Sebastian hadn’t been there, he probably would have done it already, but the Kiverian had pointed out something Mika hadn’t. She’d stressed that Conor would be in danger if he went through; Sebastian had mentioned that Conor’s presence could put
Mika
at risk. Conor hadn’t thought of that, but the bastard was likely right. Damn woman.

Yet, Conor couldn’t grouse too much. Not with that weird warm feeling that developed whenever he thought about what she’d done. No one had ever cared for him so deeply. No one.

Worry made him pace back and forth in front of the door. “She’s been gone too long,” he said.

“No,” Sebastian replied calmly. “Depending on the Council’s whim, they could make her wait two minutes or an entire day.”

“They want the incantation,” Conor argued.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll see her immediately.”

Conor stopped and turned to Sebastian. “Power games,” he muttered. “I hate them.”

“The Council doesn’t.” The Kiverian leaned his shoulders against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Have some faith in Mika. She’s weak, but she wouldn’t have suggested this unless she learned to deal with situations like this long ago.”

Mika wasn’t weak, not in the ways that counted, but Conor didn’t say that. Demons from Orcus obviously viewed strength in terms of their powers, but that was inaccurate. She might not be able to send a bolt of auric energy at an attacker, but she could stay calm and come up with a plan. That put her miles ahead of those demons who merely reacted. Emotional responses were fatal in battle, and so he’d take Mika at his back over any all-powerful dark demon any day.

“How long do you intend to hang around?” Conor asked, changing the subject. Mika was no one else’s business.

“Until your mate returns.”

That wasn’t what Conor had been asking. He’d meant, how long was Sebastian staying in Crimson City; but he didn’t rephrase the question. “In case she’s injured?”

“No, I’m staying to keep
you
safe. You’re too emotional, and rushing to Mika’s rescue will cause nothing but trouble.”

This demon thought he was too emotional? Ignoring that, Conor squared off with the Kiverian. “Keep me safe? What the hell do you care?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re my son,” he repeated.

Every muscle in Conor’s body went rigid, his hands fisting and releasing at his sides. “Don’t call me that,” he growled.

“Not using the word”—Sebastian straightened—“doesn’t change who you are, and it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Feel about me? You don’t know me! Hell, you didn’t even know I existed until a few days ago.”

“You’re wrong.”

His quiet words stopped Conor cold, then rage roared through him. He took a step forward before he regained command. “When?”

“When did I know? I felt you take your first breath.” Before Conor could think of a response, his sire continued. “Demons are connected to their children.”

“Forever?” The idea was horrifying.

Sebastian shook his head. “Only until puberty.” He paused, started to speak, then stopped. Then, shrugging a shoulder, he said, “At times I felt your need of someone. I would have been there if I could have, but the veil kept me in Orcus. This is the first I’ve been free since you were born.”

It was a lot of information to process, and it took a second for the implications to dawn on Conor. The bastard meant he hadn’t been out of the underworld since the night Conor was conceived. The fury returned, and this time, nothing was going to stop him from—

The portal wavered. Okay, one thing could stop him—Mika’s return. Except, only part of her appeared. He saw her right arm, her leg, part of her torso and could just discern the side of her face, but she didn’t finish crossing. “Mika? What’s wrong?” he asked. She didn’t answer and he closed the distance fast. “Mika?”

Was she stuck? Conor started to reach for her arm, planning to pull her the rest of the way through.

“Don’t touch her!” his father cried.

“Why the hell not?” Conor glared at him.

“Because you could kill her. At the very least, you’ll hurt her badly. She’s not in either world right now, and the veil does unusual things to the physical body.”

Conor jerked his hand back. He didn’t know why, but he believed the Kiverian. There was nothing he could do except wait, and he hated that. Damn it, he’d already been cooling his heels forever. Anxiously, he watched, leaning forward and silently urging her the rest of the way
through. But instead of Mika emerging from the ether, a rectangle began to appear in the wall. It gradually became more distinct.

Four faces suddenly peered through at him, three male and one female. “He can hear us now?” the woman said.

Mika’s answer reassured him. She was deliberately standing there; she wasn’t caught in the veil.

“Conor McCabe, this Mahsei claims she’s your emissary. Is this true?” the female demon asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“And you give your promise to abide by each term of the agreement that she has negotiated?”

He began to say yes—it was on the tip of his tongue—but before Conor gave in to the urge, he started to think. Never sign a contract without reading it, right? Maybe he had better find out what Mika had committed him to. The demon repeated her question, and Conor said, “Before I give my word, I need to hear what the terms are.”

That hadn’t been the right thing to say. The four demons turned to Mika and chewed her out. Loudly. “You’re a fool,” Sebastian hissed from his side.

When the Council returned their attention to him and had their scribe read the provisions of the agreement, Conor knew the Kiverian was right—he’d been a fool. Mika had orchestrated an airtight deal, and when the recitation was complete, Conor didn’t hesitate to give his word to uphold it.

“Now, we will watch you destroy the grimoire, then you may pass the remains of the book to the Mahsei.”

Conor didn’t care for the demoness’s tone, or the way she referred to Mika as an object and not a person, but he obeyed. He looked around for something to hold what would be left of the book, but he didn’t see anything appropriate.

“Here,” Sebastian whispered, and tossed Conor the discarded lid to a paint can. It wasn’t as large as he would have liked, but there weren’t any other options at hand.

The Council stood, their faces nearly pressed against the rectangle to watch. Conor glanced at Mika, wanting to share his humor, but he wasn’t sure if she could see him or not. Deciding to put on a show for the leaders of Orcus, he held up his hand and telekinetically called the book to him. He raised his other hand and brought forward the copies. Making sure the demon leaders could see, he placed both loose pages and grimoire atop the the paint can lid and gathered energy. Then, directing it through his hands, he incinerated them. When he finished, there was nothing left but ashes.

He picked up the lid carefully, but he’d concentrated his power so well that it was cool. Mika had an arm extended, and when the lid hit her hand, her fingers closed around it. She took it through the veil, and he saw the councilors relieve her of it.

The councilors looked at him, and the woman said, “Your word that there are no more copies. We must have that.”

“Every copy that I know of has been destroyed, you have my promise,” Conor vowed.

“That will do.” The woman gave a regal nod before the rectangle closed.

As impatient as Conor was, it seemed an eternity before Mika finished crossing and stepped into the dank, smelly room with him. His hands took her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine.”

Unconvinced by that short answer, he examined her from head to toe, looking for some sign that she was hurt. When he didn’t find one, he pulled her against his body and wrapped his arms around her. The next time she went to Orcus, he was damn well going with her. He couldn’t handle such stress again.

“I’ll be taking my leave,” Sebastian said.

Conor ignored him, but Mika didn’t. Much to his displeasure, she stepped away and gave his father a polite good-bye. A protracted, polite farewell. Finally, Sebastian left and they were alone again.

“You never told me about the bonding ceremony between vishtau mates,” he accused.

With a shrug, she tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. “Why bother? It’s not that important.”

For some reason, her offhand answer pissed him off. “Maybe not,” he said with a growl, “but Sebastian mentioned a second ritual, one where we can share powers.”

Her face tightened, and a soft glow grew in her eyes. “Did Sebastian also mention that it only works if both mates believe in each other to the depths of their beings? That it’s dangerous because if one mate turns against the other, they can utterly destroy them?” She gave her head a shake, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe you realize now that I won’t physically harm you, but you don’t trust me. We both know that.”

“I trust you.”

“Bullshit, McCabe!” Her eyes glowed red. “You didn’t even have enough faith in me to agree to the pact I negotiated with the Council until you heard every damn detail.”

Shit, she was hurt by that; he could sense it beneath the anger. There was nothing he could say that she’d believe, so he didn’t bother to try. “We’re doing both rituals,” he demanded. Only that would prove his trust.

“No.” She pivoted, but he caught her arm before she made it more than a few yards. “Let go,” she snapped.

“Listen to me. If we do this, you’ll share the shield I have, and you’ll be safe when I fight the dark demons.”

She stared at him, then Mika coolly pulled her elbow free of his grip. “First, it doesn’t matter what your powers are. I won’t be able to use them if you don’t trust me. You don’t. End of story. And second, did Sebastian mention what the bond entails? Like the fact that once it’s done, you’ll never be able to have sex with anyone else? I’ll be it for you until one of us dies.”

Conor curled his hands into fists to keep from taking hold of her again. “Yeah, he mentioned that.”

“And you still want to go through with it?” Mika
sounded incredulous. Conor wasn’t sure what that meant. When he nodded, she snorted. “It would be for nothing.”

“I’m tired of hearing that.” He did reach for her then, clasped her hips and pulled her close. “It’s good between us,” he said quietly. “I can be happy with only you for the rest of my life.” He tried a smile, but it wasn’t returned.

“You’re such a sweet-talker. Just what every woman wants to hear before binding herself to a mate for life—I might be stuck with you, but at least the sex is good.”

“You’re the one who’s been obsessed with sex this whole time. And that isn’t what I said.” He was pissed off again. “Besides, if you didn’t want the bond, why did you keep saying your part every damn time we were in bed?”

“It wasn’t every time.”

“Like hell. Whenever you were close to coming, those words started pouring out of your mouth. If that’s what works, I can always tug your jeans down and take you against the wall.” He didn’t miss her blush, and that blunted some of his anger. “Sorry,” he apologized gruffly. “I didn’t mean to be crude.”

“I don’t mind that,” Mika said. At last, her arms went around his waist. “It’s just…things are shaky between us. I don’t know if I can bond with you and still know to walk away if it becomes too destructive. Do you understand?”

“I’d never hurt you, don’t you know that?”

“You’d never hurt me physically. But emotionally? Not intentionally, no, but I love you and you don’t feel the same way about me. Eventually, that’s going to hurt.” Before he could respond, Mika put two fingers over his lips. “It’s not your fault. If I’d been truthful, maybe we could have built something between us. But I lied and you can’t get past that.”

Conor searched for a way to sway her, but Mika could be damn stubborn when she wanted. “You haven’t given me much of a chance to recover, and I
have
gotten over some of it already. With more time, it could be a non-issue,” he promised.

“Finding out you can’t let it go after we’ve done the ritual isn’t smart. Imagine it—tied for life to someone you hate.”

Cupping her face with one palm, Conor leaned nearer. “I could never hate you. Even when I was pissed as hell, I didn’t hate you. You’re worrying over nothing.”

If anything, her stubborn expression became more pronounced. “Why don’t we head back to the house?” she suggested, ignoring what he’d said. “We can argue there.”

“We’re not leaving here until we finish both rites.”

“Then we’ll be breathing this rank air for a long time.”

He nearly smiled. Although she drove him insane with her mulishness, he liked the fact that she went toe-to-toe with him. But how the hell would he convince Mika to agree to his plan? It was obvious she’d dug in her heels.

Manipulate her.
Conor started to dismiss the idea—after all, it came from his demon side—except…Except she’d manipulated him. He might have been lost in a fog of lust, but he hadn’t been blind to her tactics. Mika had used his attraction to her and her body to get past him more than once. It wouldn’t be difficult to turn the tables; he knew her weaknesses. He could have her repeating her half of the ritual in minutes. But was that fair?

Gazing down into those sexy champagne-colored eyes, Conor decided fair didn’t matter. The only important thing was keeping Mika alive. If that meant pushing a few of her buttons, he’d do it and deal with the consequences later.

“The extra power boost would help when I face the dark demons, but I bet I can take them down without it,” Conor said. He kept his tone casual and, running a thumb across her cheekbone, lowered his hand back to her hip. “You’re exaggerating how strong they are, anyway. I absorbed magic from one of them already, and it wasn’t that big a deal.”

There was a moment of confusion in Mika’s eyes before they started to glow again. “I did not exaggerate! They’re dangerous and the blast you took wasn’t full strength.”

Conor tightened his fingers on her hips, then relaxed them. With a stiff smile, he said, “It doesn’t matter. If you won’t bond with me, I’ll have to battle them with what I have. And as much as you might wish otherwise, the showdown is coming. They want you dead and I won’t let that happen.” He read the look on her face: She’d taken the bait. All he had to do now was reel her in. “Know this, I’ll fight for you until I take my last breath.”