Courting Darkness (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #10)

Courting Darkness (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #10) Page 2

“You have a point.” The Elfin Queen loved her people. In fact, she’d always been fair and just, if not totally aboveboard, with us, too. “But Menolly, I have to do what he wants.” I lowered my voice so nobody but the nearest Supes could hear me. “Can you imagine the chaos if any one of those Faerie Maids over there huddled against the wall finds out there’s a full-fledged daemon in the house? Demon, daemon, devil, they’re not going to care. It’s just going to mean panic. Right now, they still think this is some kind of Supe with a bad case of the grumps. We need to keep it that way.”

Smoky glowered. “My wife is not going to snuggle up in a room alone with you, beast. I insist that someone else be present, and I claim the right.”

The daemon looked at him, sniffing. “Dragon. Silver dragon—and white. A mix. The world is full of half-breeds tonight, it seems.” He looked at Shade. “Half dragon, half shadow.” Then, to my sisters and me, “And three human-Fae girls. Interbreeding weakens the strains, you know.”

“Irrelevant.” Smoky let out a loud hrmph.

The daemon cocked his head. “Now you, dragon, you are a lord among your kind, half-breed or not. And I do not play toad to royalty. There are reasons you will not be present, my own skin being one of them.” His voice was harsh, like the vocal cords had been burned long ago, and he kept moving his head in a sinuous dance, as if he couldn’t keep it still.

“Then my wife will not attend you.”

“Actually, your wife will attend him.” I glanced at Smoky. “I have to—we can’t discuss these matters in public.” Turning back to the daemon, I added, “We’ll have our chat alone, but in a place of my choice.”

It occurred to me that if we went to the safe room in the basement of the Wayfarer, the daemon wouldn’t be able to (a) teleport out with me, (b) shoot magic at me, or (c) bathe me in fire. He could still break me in half, but if he’d wanted to do that, he already would have.

I pointed toward the floor. “Menolly, we need to use the room downstairs.”

She frowned, then her eyes lit up. “Oh, that room. All right. Come, follow me. Don’t hurt anybody and don’t destroy anything, either of you. Daemon, I hold you on pain of death that you won’t hurt my sister.”

“As Trytian would say, big fucking whoop.” The daemon grunted. Then, with a suspicious look, he followed Menolly, shaking the floor with each meaty step. I swung in behind. Smoky, Trillian, and Shade followed, leaving Delilah and the staff to take care of the dead elf and the frightened patrons.

Just what they were going to tell them, I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t wait to hear the story they concocted. As it was, we were already in for a lot of damage control just from the daemon’s appearance in the bar. Word would leak out, no matter what we did, and we didn’t have cool blue flashy-flashy things like the Men in Black did. We were lacking somewhat in the mind-control department, and our glamour wouldn’t work on a daemon.

Downstairs, we came to the safe room. No magic could enter here, nor any creature teleport in or out. All natural abilities were muted within the room. If a nuclear blast hit this bar, the safe room would stand.

I gazed at the door, swallowing my fear. The thought of being shut up alone with the daemon was daunting. Not so much fun. Not so safe. But because the alternative was worse, I gathered my courage and motioned for him to enter the room and, with a scowl, he ducked his head so that his horns cleared the archway. As I followed behind him, Menolly touched me on the arm.

“One peep and we’re coming in. Don’t get near him. He can’t work his magic, but he could tear you apart.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” And, reluctantly, I shut the door and turned to face the daemon, crossing my arms. The best defense was to show no fear. “Trytian has a message for me? Deliver it and then scram, hell spawn.” I didn’t bother asking for his name—chances were he wouldn’t give it to me.

The daemon looked around. “A no-magic zone? Not stupid—not so stupid as some.” A dark grimace crossed his face. “I would relish a fight with you, girl. And your friends. But this is not my battle to wage.”

I decided to let that one pass. No need to press my luck. Letting out a long sigh, I asked, “What do you want? Why did you kill the elf upstairs?”

“He got in the way. He had to be eliminated.” He said it nonchalantly. Dare to interfere with the daemon? Poof—you die.

“Again, I ask: What do you want?”

“I bear a warning from Trytian.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why would he warn us about anything? He tried to kill us, for the sake of the gods.” Not only that, but Trytian was rude. Very rude.

“I bring only the warning. I have no other answers for you.”

Hmm . . . I played out the reasoning in my mind. The only reason Trytian would offer us a warning was if he anticipated needing our help in the future, which meant we would have a bargaining chip. Unless he’d suddenly sprouted wings and become a cute little cherub. I sincerely doubted the latter.

“Okay, I’m listening. What’s so important that Trytian sent you over here to stir the pot? And why you—why not someone who can pass out on the streets?”

I leaned against the small bistro table that was pushed against one wall. The room showed signs of occupation—Erin, the daughter Menolly had sired into the vampiric life, was staying down here during the day, sleeping in safety until her room at the new Vampires Anonymous Shelter was ready. The bed was piled high with comfy blankets; there were cards and books on the table, and an empty bottle that had held blood.

“I was the only one available to send at the moment. Trust me, I do not enjoy playing messenger boy. But Trytian is my leader and I obey. Here.” He handed me a letter. “You will understand why I did not want to be in the same room with your husband when you read it.”

Oh hell. Something to do with Smoky. I couldn’t imagine the daemon being that afraid of Trillian, and Morio was at home.

Gingerly, I took the paper and opened it. The writing was tight, neat, and precisely printed in red ink—at least I hoped it was ink, considering the color. As I began to read, I started to sink toward the floor, but one grunt from the daemon and I straightened back up again. No dropping my guard, not when we were alone together. No use asking for trouble.

I glanced up at the creature. “Wait here, please.” Before he could say a word, I slipped out of the room and slammed the door, locking it behind me. He could hammer all he wanted on it, he was locked in there till doomsday if we wanted.

“What’s going on? Are you all right?” Smoky leaned over me, looking for signs that the daemon had laid hands on me.

“I’m fine . . . at least physically. He gave me a letter from Trytian. If it’s true, then you and I are fucked. Just plain and simple.”

“Read it.” Shade was staring at me, concern creasing his face.

I cleared my throat and held up the paper.

Rumors are running rife through the grapevine, but I assure you, this is no wives’ tale. A white dragon was recently seen in the halls of the Demon Underground, hanging out with a snow monkey. He is not welcome here, but no one dares tell a dragon to leave.

Camille: Scuttlebutt is that he’ll be marching in your direction soon. He’s made it known that you and your husband are on his hit list. And frankly, though you and I disagree on the method, all allies against Shadow Wing are valuable at this point, and I may need to call on your aid at some point. So be cautious and don’t get yourself killed.

Trytian

I shuddered, letting out a long breath as the world crowded in too closely around me. Hyto was in the area.

Hyto had thrown a fit when he found out Smoky had married me. It had driven the already dangerous dragon over the edge, and now he had a vendetta going against us.

And now, he was on the rampage. A dragon as lecherous and deadly as any demon ever could be, he’d tried to kill Smoky’s mother for denying him. He’d decided I was to blame for his being thrown out of the Dragon Reaches and turned pariah. And now, Hyto wanted both Smoky and me dead—worse than dead. Hyto wanted revenge.

Smoky’s pleasant demeanor drained away and his eyes began to swirl. Very softly, very slowly, he spoke. “My father has just signed his death warrant.”

“Crap.” Menolly leaned against the wall. “He’s here, in Seattle? Not the news we needed right now.”

I fingered the paper. “What’s a snow monkey? Why would he have an ape with him?”

“Trytian’s not talking about an animal,” Shade said. “A snow monkey is slang for a monk from one of the upper monasteries in the Northlands. Usually, snow monkeys are rogues—having been either kicked out of their order or leaving of their own accord. They’re most often mad as a hornet, and they don’t give a damn about anybody but themselves. It’s not hard to buy one of them off. And if one’s taken up with Smoky’s father, then he’s bound to have been offered plenty of money. They’re dangerous.” He gave me a sad smile. “I’d start watching my back if I were you.”

“Like we haven’t been already.” Sighing, I leaned against the wall, letting them talk around me.

Mad monks were bad enough, but the thought of Hyto being so close—the thought of him actually being in the city—made me want to run screaming home to Otherworld. But I couldn’t do that, either. My father had exiled me from Y’Elestrial. Oh, I could go back to OW, but I couldn’t go home again.

Smoky’s father . . . Hyto hated me. He hated my breath, my life, my very existence. He had nothing to lose. He’d been cast out of the Dragon Reaches, denied by his wife, disowned by his children. And he blamed it all on me. The memory of his hands on me the one time we’d had the misfortune to meet still gave me the creeps.

My cell phone rang, and I flipped it open. Caller ID told me it was Chase Johnson. I punched Talk and answered.

“Camille—I was hoping you were back. I need you down here. We’ve got a problem in Tangleroot Park, and I am pretty sure it’s magical in nature. In fact, I almost pissed my pants when I saw it. There’s some really funky energy running around lately. I’ve got my guys blocking it off for now, but I’m scared to try anything before you come have a look-see.”

“It? What are you talking about? A monster or something?”

“I don’t think so. Honestly? I’ll bet you my paycheck it’s a portal of some sort. And I can hear singing through it. The voices call to me, Camille. I hate to say it, but I’m afraid. I get near and all I want to do is run through it.”

My blood ran cold. Hyto was my big worry right now, but he wasn’t standing here in front of me. First, if Chase was right and there was a portal opening up in Tangleroot Park, we could be in for big trouble of a different sort. Because the random portals that had started showing themselves around the city were rogue, and could lead anywhere—and could have anybody on the other side, waiting to come through. Second, if it was calling loud enough that Chase could hear it, who else might sense its presence?

“We’ll get our asses over there right now. Meanwhile, don’t let anybody touch it or go near it.” As I shut my phone, it occurred to me that my life was quickly coming to resemble a roller coaster, and right now, we felt at the peak, poised to take a long, dark ride down the tracks.

Chapter 2

Smoky was all for killing the daemon, but I shook my head. “Better to keep Trytian on our side. After all, he did warn us about your father. And if we kill the thing, Trytian will be in our face about it. Right now, we don’t need that.”

“We can’t just let it run around the streets loose. What will people say?” Shade stared at me for a moment, then burst into a peal of laughter. “I can’t believe I just said that, considering some of what you’ve told me about your exploits, but still . . . a daemon?”

Menolly held up her hand. “Let me attend to it.” She disappeared inside the room, and a moment later she came out, the daemon in hand. He flashed her a guilty look, then cleared his throat.

“I’ll cause no more trouble. Any return message for Trytian?”

I blinked. What the fuck had she said to him? Oh well, whatever it was, it seemed to have worked. “Tell him we’ll be on the lookout and do our best to stop the dragon. Tell him . . . thank him for the information. He didn’t have to tell me.”

The daemon nodded, then started to head for the stairs.

“Wait!” I called out. He turned around. “Let me cast a cloaking spell over you. You simply can’t go wandering around the streets looking like you do.”

A sly smile stole across his face. “You want to try, girl?”

I nodded, even though Trillian and Menolly were both frantically shaking their heads. Motioning for them to stand aside, I began to work up the magic that I knew for cloaking spells—if I could just get him to pass for human, that would solve the problem of people on the streets. Then we’d just have to explain to the folks up in the bar that they’d seen a crazed lunatic wearing a costume who had a thing against elves.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think this is wise—” Trillian began to say, and Smoky, for once, chimed in on his side, but I brushed away their fears, too.

“My magic has grown stronger since I’ve been working with Morio. And there’s no other way to avoid incurring questions that we do not want.”

Disguise spells, or cloaking spells, weren’t all that hard—at least not for the average Moon Witch. Given my background, there was always the chance I’d muck it up, but I was ever the optimist, and besides, I was the only one here who could even try to cast a spell.