Dance Only For Me

by Megan Derr

  Laughing again, the demon threw the bullet aside then suddenly dashed forward, shoving Jackie hard into the wall, grabbing his wrists and pinning them alongside Jackie's shoulders. He'd been right, the demon didn't even reach that high, but he may as well have been seven foot tall and three hundred pounds there was so much strength holding Jackie in place.

  "Sheriff!" Wyatt charged forward, a rather evil looking knife in his hand, but he dropped like a stone as the demon's power lashed out at him.

  Jackie tried to shove him back, but the demon held him even more firmly in place, claws biting into his skin but not quite breaking it. "Damn it, demon."

  "What's a gunslinger doing here? What do you have to do with any of this?"

  "I'm looking for the flame-eyed bastard what killed a friend of mine." He nodded toward Wyatt. "I also want a word with the men who hurt my friend there. You're the other one, aren't you? The second experiment Corrigan said was a success. Why'd you hurt Roman and kill the other fella?"

  The demon smiled coldly. "That one's had it coming a long time. Don't feel sorry for him. You'd do best to stay out of the matter altogether, gunslinger."

  "Oh, shut it, demon. I'm too old to be told what's best for me. If you ain't inclined to cooperate then I'm gonna assume you're against me and deal with you accordingly. Seeing as you didn't put me out like everyone else, I'm still hoping you'll be friend and not foe."

  "I'm nobody's friend," the demon replied, eyes shifting between red, orange, and yellow. They reminded Jackie of something, and he had the sense he should have already figured out what, but hell if he could right then. "But I won't hurt a gunslinger if I don't have to. It was a gunslinger that killed that bastard Corrigan and all his nasty cronies. There was nothing left of this body's mind when he summoned me, nothing at all. Wasn't much left of me by the time he was done. If not for the gunslinger, there wouldn't be anything left." He abruptly relaxed his grip, turned sharply, and shoved so hard Jackie stumbled across to the other side of the room. "Get lost, gunslinger. I'll take care of Firebrand and the others. The fact you think Firebrand has a master rather than a partner just proves you don't belong in this mess."

  Jackie tugged at the brim of his hat. "Much obliged for the concern, demon, but I already told you I'm old enough to make my own dumb decisions. That man killed a friend of mine and I aim to address the matter personally. Ain't you or anyone else gonna stop me."

  "Shame, gunslinger. You're far too pretty to be tangled up in this mess."

  The words made Jackie shake with laughter. "Demon, I'm about as pretty as the tail end of a bull. You're gonna have to try better taunts than that."

  And just like that the demon was all up in his space again, claws biting into his biceps, the smell of apples and cold air sharper than ever. He jerked Jackie down and nipped at his jaw. "You're hardly a chore to look at, but I didn't mean your face. I meant your energies. This mess will just wash all that lovely color away. Stay out of it."

  Jackie's face went hot, though again he was left floundering as to why. Before he could reply, the demon's eyes glowed like a setting sun through autumn leaves and the world went out like a light.

  He woke to a throbbing head and sunshine on his face. Given it had been heading toward evening when they'd arrived, that meant he'd been out the whole night. Demons.

  Slowly standing, Jackie looked around for Wyatt and Roman, not even a bit surprised that Wyatt was up and helping himself to Roman's kitchen. He had the feeling nothing kept Wyatt down for long, not even getting knocked out cold by a demon. The smell of coffee woke Jackie up a touch more and he yawned as he walked over to the kitchen table and dropped down. "You alright?"

  "Yeah, fine. Now, anyway. When I first woke up my head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. Took forever to get that to ease off. What kind of demon was he, do you know? And he can wander! Is he a young demon or something? Those marks on him… I couldn't get a good look, but I'd swear… do you think he's trying to steal this territory?"

  "Enough questions," Jackie said with a groan. "Wait until I've had coffee and can think again. Where's Roman?"

  Wyatt made a face. "I dragged him into his bedroom. Didn't get him on the bed, but I fixed his head wound. Wasn't really bad, looks like he just tried to do something extra stupid."

  Jackie snorted. "Indeed." Wyatt set a cup of coffee in front of him. "Thanks." He stared idly at the mug, recognizing it as one he'd used several times before while there, and he hadn't realized until then that he'd taken the seat he'd always used when eating at Roman's place. Definitely felt a might strange to be sitting in Roman's kitchen, but mostly he was too tired and pre-occupied to pay it any mind. Wyatt sat down catty-corner to him and moaned as he drank his coffee. "Let me guess: your coffee is mostly cream and sugar."

  Wyatt grinned. "He has cinnamon vanilla creamer."

  "That's new," Jackie muttered, wondering if Roman actually liked it or if he was already playing with someone new. He decided he didn't actually care. "What the heck is wrong with a good cup of strong coffee with nothing done to it?" When Wyatt opened his mouth, Jackie said, "Don't answer that."

  Wyatt hid another grin in another swallow of coffee, and they finished their drinks in silence. When Jackie felt his brain cogs were back to turning, he left the mugs in the sink and tried to start puzzling out the new kinks in the case. "I don't know what the hell is going on anymore."

  "Me neither," Wyatt said. "How long is Roman gonna sleep? He was out before us, but he's still sleeping like the dead."

  "If magic were whiskey, then waving the bottle under his nose would be enough to get him drunker than a cowboy at the end of a drive."

  "I resent that," Roman said sourly from the hallway behind them.

  Jackie shrugged, not bothering to turn to look at him. "Resenting something don't make it less true."

  Roman sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee, then settled at the far end of the table. "What in the fuck are you doing here and why the hell are you here with him?"

  "Ain't none of your business why I'm with Wyatt," Jackie replied, pulling out the revolver in his left holster. He reached to the back of his belt and removed the pouch there, setting it in front of him on the table. Opening the revolver's cylinder, he removed the bullets in it and set them aside. "Tell me what the hell you're mixed up in, Roman."

  In reply, Roman just glared over the rim of his coffee cup.

  From the pouch, Jackie pulled out six bullets that looked like they were covered in thick, black oil, the sunlight that hit them causing the bullets to take on a rainbow sheen. "Tell me or I'll make the whoopin' you gave Wyatt look like a joke." He replaced the bullets he'd removed with the black ones, swung the cylinder back into place, and returned the pouch to his gun belt.

  Slamming his cup down, Roman snapped, "I didn't lay a finger—"

  "You stood by!" Jackie bellowed, hands slamming down on the table. He stood and rounded the table even as Roman scrambled to his feet and fled backward several steps. Jackie prowled after him. "You're messing with magic you shouldn't be touching and you damn well know it. You were willing to let a goddamn boy take a beating for whatever it is you're tangled up in. Tell me what's going on, Roman, or I swear to high heaven I'll make you my enemy just as passionately as I once made you my lover."

  "Get out of my house," Roman said. "It's none of your fucking business anymore what I do or—" He broke off when Jackie grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall. "Damn it!"

  Jackie drew the gun he'd just reloaded with the black bullets and pressed it up underneath Roman's chin right where it began to curve into his neck. "Let me repeat myself just to make things absolutely clear. A friend of mine is dead. That man who was with you is dead. A hell of a lot of people have suffered and died over this mess. You just stood there and let your companion beat Wyatt all to hell. You nearly died yourself, Roman. You think you'd be alive if we hadn't come along? I ain't fooling around anymore. You tell me what you know, or I'll end yo
u here and now. I ain't never been inclined to let a snake keep running around the house."

  Roman stared coldly. "I always heard about your temper, but even when we were mad at each other I never saw a hint of it. You're intense, but quiet. I finally decided people were just exaggerating. They weren't though, not even a little bit. You go from quiet to kill in a blink. I didn't realize just how right I was when I said you act more like a demon than a human."

  Ignoring that, even though the words hit their mark a bit more than he liked admitting, Jackie cocked his gun and asked, "How are you involved?"

  "Do it," Roman snapped. "Kill me. You're no better than the men you're hunting."

  "I'm sure you like thinking so," Jackie said quietly, staring into Roman's eyes until he looked away. "Tell me."

  Roman remained mutinously silent.

  Wyatt stepped in closer and answered, "He was hired by that dead guy to figure out a way to bind the demon that was here. Their notes don't say much, only that the nature of the experiments performed on the man they chose, and then the demon they forced into his body, made him immune to all types of bindings. It doesn't say explicitly, but my initial impression is that it was an unexpected side effect of the experiments."

  Jackie frowned, glanced over at him briefly before putting his eyes back on Roman. "How do you know all that?"

  "I helped myself to the notebooks over by his laptop. Haven't had a chance to take a crack at the laptop yet, but I'm sure there's plenty more on it."

  "Oh, fuck you," Roman said sourly.

  Jackie holstered his gun, then slammed Roman's head into the wall, and let his unconscious body fall to lay awkwardly on the floor. Jackie prodded him lightly with a boot. "What the hell is in it for him that he'd get involved in this mess?"

  "Says here he's been promised a copy of The Book of the Angel Raziel," Wyatt replied. "Man, I freaking wish that was possible, but everyone knows all remaining copies belong to Sable Brennus. I'd love to know what he thinks of this contract."

  "I'd rather he remain ignorant of the matter, if it's all the same to you."

  Wyatt laughed. "Probably safer that way, yeah. I took everything off Roman's desk, including his laptop and phone while you guys were still sleeping. Whatever he knows, hopefully it's where we can know it too."

  "You're something else again," Jackie said with a laugh of his own. "Let's get out of here."

  "Should we do something with him?" Wyatt asked, nodding at Roman.

  "The mess he's in will be more than he can handle. I don't doubt before the day is over that he'll wish I'd put a bullet in him." He scowled, angry all over again. "I ain't no demon the way he keeps on saying. He'd already be dead if I was."

  Wyatt shrugged. "You're nothing like a demon, but I think I know what he means—it's that you're real intense, all quiet and contained, but focused like hell on whatever has your attention. Not many people I know have that kind of focus. You're all or nothing. You're also like, scary patient. But demons aren't the only ones like that; they're just the ones everyone thinks of because they might be quiet, but they also like it when people fawn over them or cower or whatever. I think if someone tried any of that with you, you'd just roll your eyes and run away as quickly as you could."

  Jackie's mouth quirked and he ruffled Wyatt's hair lightly as he passed him to start drawing a spell circle on a clear bit of floor by the windows. "Speaking of demons, I wonder when we'll run into our new friend again."

  "I still can't believe he knocked us out as long as he did. Must be one of his specialties. Damn it, I really wish I'd gotten a better look at him, or at least all those marks covering him." Wyatt's frown looked more like a pout, but Jackie was too tired to tease him about it. He'd have to remember to do it later.

  "I'm sure you'll get your chance," Jackie said and knelt to draw the circle to take them home. His mind drifted to the demon as he worked, recalling the way the scrappy thing had manhandled him like he didn't weight so much as a feather. Under better circumstances, Jackie would have enjoyed that. Wasn't as appealing when he was half a second from being killed.

  Those eyes… demons could be hard to pin down at a glance, but their power was always in their eyes for anyone who knew what to look for. The strange demon's eyes had been damn pretty, cycling through red, orange, and yellow the way they had, but they didn't remind Jackie of fire. No, more like… Realization snapped into place. Cold. Apples. Sleep. "Aw, hell. He's a demon of seasons—of autumn. That explains why he was so good at putting us out."

  Wyatt made a face. "Guess we're lucky he wasn't a winter demon, then. We'd still be asleep, if not frozen."

  "Ayah," Jackie agreed and brushed his hands off. He looked over the circle critically, but could find no errors. "Time to go home."

  Seconds later they appeared in his workroom, and as sudden as that, exhaustion struck Jackie a solid blow. "Put all that stuff down there on the table. I'm going to catch some shuteye and then we'll start sorting everything out and see what we've got. You okay crashing on the couch?"

  "Yeah," Wyatt said around a yawn. "If I'm still asleep when you wake up, just leave me for dead."

  Jackie laughed. "Same, same." He made sure Wyatt had everything he needed and was settling in fine, then went into his bedroom. Stripping down, he put his phone and guns near to hand before crawling into bed. He settled in, drew the blankets up tight, and fell asleep thinking of eyes the color of autumn leaves.

  Part 05: Bubba Shot the Jukebox

  The night had been going so pleasant that Jackie was just waiting for it to go wrong. He took a swallow of the fresh beer Roxie had brought him, thanking her with a smile and a five, since the music was thumping so loudly and the crowd at the stage was so cheerfully rowdy, it was pointless to try talking.

  He turned in his seat to scope the crowded club again, but all still seemed under control. The crowd that had taken over the seats by the stage was a mix of paranormals, and all of them well off to judge by the money they were throwing around. Tucked in the far back corner was a cluster from Clan Mordred—six dragon masters and their dragons, most curled around their feet but a couple were in human form and twined around their masters. They had a presence to be sure, especially the ringleader, Deacon, a tall man with steel gray hair and dark blue eyes. Jackie had seen him around the club a few times, always a quiet fella who simmered down everyone around him just by being there.

  Jackie turned back around as the song changed to something quieter and the crowd calmed a bit. Roxie came back his way and set a shot of Jack in front of him. "How's it going, boss?"

  "I ain't your boss," Jackie said with a huff of laughter. "So what's this place like on Valentine's Day?"

  Roxie shrugged. "Not much different. That's a normal holiday; the paranormal crowd doesn't act any different unless they still have normal ties." She made a face at the thought.

  Jackie laughed. "Bet the Spring Equinox makes ya'll want to up and quit."

  "Truer words have never been spoken." She started to say more when someone at the other end of the bar called for her with drunken imperiousness. Rolling her eyes at Jackie, she whirled away to take care of the customer.

  Picking up the shot, Jackie threw it back. He hadn't gotten more than a sip of his beer when the back door burst open and Wyatt came running out. He threw himself onto the stool next to Jackie. "How's it going?"

  "Well enough," Jackie said. "I thought you'd be sunk in your books all night."

  "I wanted a break."

  Roxie came back toward them. "Give me a couple of minutes and I'll get you a glass of milk." She reached over the bar to pinch Wyatt's cheek.

  "Oh, shut up," Wyatt said, lightly batting her hand away. "I don't look that young."

  "If you say so, honey," Roxie said with a wink as she set a whiskey sour in front of him. "How goes all that research you guys have been doing?"

  Wyatt grimaced. "Slowly. People need to stop writing shit in code because all it does is waste my time. It's not like we didn't already
know the crucial bits and the laptop was child's play. Also, he's a shitty mage. Why did anyone hire him for anything?"

  "He's got the mind for it, just not the power," Jackie said. "More than one person got cocky judging the whole by one element. Don't go repeating their mistakes."

  "Yeah, yeah," Wyatt said. "I'm not underestimating anything—I'm just saying I don't get why anyone hired him for this."

  Jackie shrugged. "Don't think it matters, so long as he stays out of it from here on." He dropped the subject as someone approached the bar close to them—Deacon. "Howdy," Jackie said in greeting.

  "Hey," Deacon said, then nodded at Roxie for another beer. She poured a stout and slid it across to him, smiling. "Thanks, Roxie." She drifted away and he turned to Jackie. "How's it going?"

  "Just fine. You?"

  "Can't complain? Who's the kid?"

  "I'm not a kid!" Wyatt said, cheeks going hot.

  Deacon smirked and, with a last nod to Jackie, returned to his friends. Jackie turned to tease Wyatt, but stopped short when he saw the look on his face as he watched Deacon walk away. "Admiring the fit of his jeans?"

  Flushing scarlet, Wyatt shot him a look that was just bursting with hostility. "No. I just couldn't—that's Deacon!"

  "I know his name. Nice enough fella. Keeps the others behaving."

  "Well, yeah. He's Mordred's Captain of the Guard. He has a black dragon with quad-elemental strengths, nearly as tough as the silver dragons. The pit dragons really really like him. He's actual, real Clan Mordred and—"

  Jackie laughed. "I'd ask why you know so much, but I can see clear enough. There's certainly worse folks to be taking a shine to."

  "I haven't taken a shine to him," Wyatt said hotly. "I don't take shines to people." Jackie wondered just who Wyatt thought he was fooling, but didn't say anything as Wyatt continued on. "I just think the dragon clans are neat. I helped out someone in Clan Mordred once, a lawyer. His name was Oliver. He was really nice and told me a lot about the dragon clans. They're so different from the syndicates, you know? I met Deacon once, really briefly, when he came to Oliver's office. He doesn't remember me, I guess."