Darkest Night - Smoke And Ashes Part 11

Why did he even ask? "All right, we're not totally helpless; I dusted the demon with the arm."

"And got knocked on your a.s.s," Leah reminded him. "It's been what? Three and a half hours, and you're still too wiped to get it up again."

"I could so..." Actually, no, he couldn't. Not even thinking of Lee in his motorcycle jacket and chaps got a response.

"That was a metaphor, Tony."

Her expression suggested she knew what he'd been thinking. He could feel his ears go red. "It doesn't matter. I've got time to recover... for another Powershot," he added hurriedly as she grinned. "It'll take him a while to get another minion through, right?

So we just have to stick with the original plan. We find out where the weak spot is, and you teach me how to close it down."

"No." "Why not?"

"If Ryne Cyratane is sending demons through to kill me, my going anywhere near the weak spot would be like waving a steak outside a lion's cage. It might provide enough incentive for a breakout-resulting in a really bad time for the steak."

Tony fought his way through this second metaphor-which was, at least, not about s.e.x. "Fine, you don't have to go near the weak spot. You tell me where it is, teach me what to do, and I'll deal."

"It's not that simple."

He sighed. "It never is. All right, what do we do? How do we stop your Demonlord from opening the gate?"

"We keep me alive."

"Yeah, I got that."

"Seriously, that's all we have to do." She reached out and touched his arm. "I teach you how to send the demons back without destroying yourself, and every time one shows up, you zap it."

"That sounds simple. Or not," he amended when her expression threatened bodily harm.

"One question: what'll the demon be doing while I'm zapping?"

"Trying to kill me." Her expression added a clear and succinct You idiot.

"Or trying to kill me, and you can't stop it because, guess what-oh, yeah-it can kill you, too. I'm thinking we need some backup." Leaning forward, he could just barely reach his jacket hung over the back of a kitchen chair. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, turned to Leah, and grinned. "Who you gonna call?"

She looked confused. "I'm not calling anyone."

He sighed. "No one watches the cla.s.sics anymore."

"Nelson."

"Nice phone manner, Victory. You always bark at your clients?"

"Good to hear you've regained consciousness, Tony."

"I wasn't..."

"You weren't? Then you had another reason for not calling?"

"I was..."

"Busy? Hang on a sec." Her voice faded slightly as she moved the phone from her mouth. "Drop the pins and step away from the doll."

"Vicki?"

"Yeah?" "Are you working?" Victory Nelson had once been a much decorated Toronto cop, now she was a vampire P. I. -just like Raymond Dark only without the sidekick, the contrived plots, and the need to keep the violence under PG-13. Tony heard a couple of m.u.f.fled thuds and some moaning.

"It's no big. These guys are total wannabes. What can I do for you?"

"I have a friend with a bit of a problem."

"Is this friend another wizard?"

Oh, c.r.a.p. She knew. He hadn't called because he hadn't known how to tell her and make it sound believable. "How... ?"

"Henry told me, idiot."

Right. Because Henry still considered Tony's life to be his. His Henry's, not his Tony's. G.o.d, he was too tired for this. "No, she's not a wizard. She's a stuntwoman and an immortal Demongate."

"Cool."

"Not really." He outlined the problem.

Vicki let him talk without interruption. "Okay," she said when he finished. "Here's what you do... You listening?"

"Yeah. I'm listening."

"Stop acting like an a.s.s and call Henry."

"I'm not..."

"Bulls.h.i.t. Look, I'm not saying he's not indulging in a bit of testosterone-fueled a.s.sness as well, but one, he's out there in Vancouver and I'm not. Two, he owns a grimoire. Maybe more than one. He understands the whole demon thing. And, three, he needs to know what's going on, unless you'd rather he found out that you were dealing with demons in his territory and didn't tell him."

"I don't think..."

"I know."

Tony waited and when she didn't say any more, he sighed. Of course she heard it, even three thousand miles away. She could hear the blood moving through the hand holding the phone.

"You know I'm right."

He sighed again. "I guess."

"Tony..."

"Fine. You're right. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Let me know how it turns out. Unless, of course, I find out on the news and then you needn't bother."

"Because then I'll be dead."

"That's not as much of an excuse as it used to be. Now... you call Henry, I'm going to grab a bite." The background moaning grew louder.

Henry paused outside the door to Tony's apartment. He could feel the power painted around the frame. He could smell the cherry cough syrup. It seemed that in the weeks since they'd talked, Tony's studies had progressed. And adapted.

Tony had always been adaptable. It had helped him survive on the street. It had helped him accept that the world held wonder and darkness beyond the barriers most people thought marked the edge of reality. It had certainly helped him working in an industry that created yet another reality and very nearly believed in it.

Yes, adaptable was good.

Young, arrogant, p.r.i.c.kly, possessive; not so much.

And if Tony didn't exactly go out looking for trouble, he certainly seemed to call it to him.

A noise pulled Henry's attention to the far end of the hall, and he turned in time to see an overweight tabby slip out of the last apartment. The cat's owner kept the door open on the safety chain so that the cat could wander in and out at will. Henry had never met the owner, but he and the cat had come to an understanding months ago.

The tabby's yellow eyes narrowed; he raised his tail and sprayed the wall just outside the apartment door.

Mine.

Henry sighed and raised a hand to knock. That was exactly the sort of welcome he was antic.i.p.ating.

He could feel a life on the other side of the door. Hear a heart beating. Feel power... When the door opened, he smiled. It was more of a warning than a threat. "Leah Burnett?"

She was no more than five foot five, Mediterranean looking-south side of the inland sea. Almost, but not quite, Arabic. Under black-and-yellow clothing she had the kind of curves most women in this age dieted away. Thick dark hair fell in soft curls just past her shoulders framing a face with full lips, high cheekbones, and dark eyes narrowed in a frown.

"You're Henry Fitzroy?"

"I am." He could feel old power clinging to her like smoke. No, not merely old. He was old. This was ancient.

"I thought you'd be taller."

At six feet, his father had been huge-even before his girth had expanded to fit his ego. At five six, Henry was more typical of his century. "Sorry."

"No, it's all right. I like a man I can look in the eye without getting a crick in my neck."

And she was looking him in the eye. Wondering what she was trying to prove, he let a little of the mask fall and a little of the Hunger rise.

She smiled in a way that told him she knew exactly what she saw. Then she drew her tongue over her lower lip, leaving it glistening, and tossed her hair back off her face to expose the curve of her throat. Looking up at him through thick lashes, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled a challenge.

Henry felt himself respond and only barely managed to keep himself from moving toward her. He dragged the Hunger-both hungers-back under control and asked, "Should we be doing this in the hall?"

She laughed and stepped aside, her power masked as his was. "Tony's asleep."

The wards on the doorframe stroked against him as he stepped over the threshold but made no attempt to keep him out. Leah seemed satisfied with that as she closed the door, and Henry wondered just how sensitive to Tony's wizardry she was.

"Did he tell you he dusted a demon this evening?"

"Dusted?"

"Well, specifically ashed. He called it a Powershot. Took a lot out of him," she added quietly as they stood together looking down at the young man on the bed. "How much did he tell you on the phone?"

"He told me your history. Your pertinent history with the Demonlord," he added when she snorted. "He told me of the Demonic Convergence, and he told me how this Demonlord is planning to use it to kill you."

Pushing her hair back off her face, she nodded. "Demonic minions. As long as the spell controlling the Demongate holds, they shouldn't be able to hurt me, but they have."

Minions. He could hear Tony in the word. "May I see the spell?"

Moving away from the bed, she unzipped her hoodie and raised her T-shirt. "Be my guest."

It was an amazing tattoo. Even... no, especially knowing what it was. He dropped to one knee to get a closer look. And frowned.

"I have seen the language of the d.a.m.ned," he said softly, head c.o.c.ked to one side as he followed the curve of the characters, "and this writing I do not recognize."

"There is more than one h.e.l.l, Nightwalker." She matched his formal cadence. "And more than one heaven, I suspect."

"Blasphemy."

The two fingers she placed under his chin were warm, and he allowed her to lift his head. "A religious word. And a strange word coming from a man whose church believes him soulless and d.a.m.ned. I say there is more than one h.e.l.l and I am in a better position to know. By the time your lord was born, I had been carrying mine for over a thousand years."

"Your lord is..."

"I know what he is. You take yours on faith."

"Mine is not trying to kill me."

"His..." And she grinned, breaking the mood, suddenly looking no more than the young woman she appeared to be. "... minions would."

Again with the minions. Henry strongly suspected Tony had provided it. "The church does not think of itself in that way."

"Yeah, like that matters."

She had a point. "They would kill you as well."

"Oh, they've tried."

Which brought them neatly around to the matter at hand. Holding her hips, he moved her around so that he could see the wound. It was small, a minor flaw on the smooth curve of cafe-au-lait skin and only barely deep enough to bleed. Not worth noting had it not been the first blood drawn from this body in over three thousand years. Bending closer, he drew in a long, slow breath. The scent of her blood was familiar, neither the demon that had attacked her nor the demonic power that enveloped her had marked it. The scent around the blood, her scent, was almost smoky and he found himself wanting to taste. To lick a moist line along the curve from hip to ribs. Could he feed? Would the protective power perceive the threat or the seduction?

The flesh of her hips was warm and yielding under his grip. The air between them began to heat. Henry caught the scent of her arousal and growled low in his throat. She wound her fingers into his hair and subtly shifted her weight to bring bared skin closer to his mouth.

The growl snapped Tony fully awake. One moment he'd been dreaming of driving his car from the backseat and the next he was up on his elbows staring at Leah and Henry at the foot of his bed.

Actually, Henry on his knees, his hair wrapped around Leah's fingers, his mouth about to descend to skin was pretty d.a.m.ned hot.

Tony could feel his body responding like it always did when Henry got the vampire mojo going. His responses had gotten a bit kinky after all those years of teeth and, under normal circ.u.mstances, he'd be more than happy to lie here and watch while they went at it.

Unfortunately, the word normal had sweet f.u.c.k all to do with his life.

"Not a good idea, Henry."