Dante Valentine

by Lilith Saintcrow

  Nichtvren generally only Turn humans if they are either exceptionally pretty or exceptionally ruthless; I’ve never seen an ugly Nichtvren. Truth be told, I’ve barely seen any Nichtvren despite the mandatory Paranormal Anatomy and Interspecies Communication classes I’d taken. In the relatively short time I’d been an almost-demon, I’d met more Nichtvren than in my previous thirty-odd years combined.

  Then again, Nichtvren don’t like Necromances. What species that prizes immortality would like Death’s children?

  Tiens was a tall male with a shock of dirty-blond hair and a beautifully expressive masculine face, his eyes curiously flat with the cat-sheen of his nighthunting species. Below the shine, they were a pale blue. He had a slight flush along his cheekbones—he’d fed somewhere. He wore dusty black, a V-neck sweater and loose workman’s pants, his feet closed in scarred and cracked boots; he looked just the same as he had in Freetown New Prague.

  Though I’d begun to feel a little easier around Lucas, I was still very wary of a suckhead Hellesvront agent. Suckheads scare me more than demons, and a suckhead working for demons is enough to make my hand itch for my swordhilt.

  He was right, the house at Fifth and Chesko was a trap. It didn’t take much more than a few moments for the werecain to come back out. When he did he circled the block and plunged back over the wall again. If I’d just arrived—or been chasing him all along—I might have been fooled. Maybe my own blind panic had actually served me.

  Tiens’s warm fingers eased off my hand as he looked back over his shoulder, noting the werecain’s re-disappearance with a slight smile as if at the antics of a not-too-bright child. “Cretín.” The word was softened by an accent as ancient as South Merican. “Come. Here is not the place for you, belle morte.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I told him quietly, and he cocked his head, smiling. For some reason that smile chilled me more than a snarl would have—especially since his fangs were slightly extended, dimpling his exquisite lower lip just a little. His eyes lit up with cheerful good humor, as if it was a foregone conclusion that I would, indeed, go with him, once he found the proper way to explain to me I had no choice.

  “An old friend wishes a word with you.” His eyes passed down my body and back up again. His smile widened a trifle, appreciative; I shuddered. Appreciation is not what I want to see on the face of any Nichtvren. “Selene, the Prime’s Consort.”

  “Where’s Japhrimel?” And just what “errand” did he send you on, suckhead? A Nichtvren working for demons, there’s no reason for me to trust you any farther than I can throw you.

  “M’sieu should be with you.” Tiens shrugged. “Since he is not, I will remain. We shall go swiftly. You are expected, le chien there was obviously meant to lure you. There are soldiers hidden behind the walls, with tranquilizer guns.”

  I examined him in the difficult light, demon eyes piercing shadows to show me his faint, charming smile. His eyes all but sparkled. Nichtvren eyes, capable of seeing in total blackness. He was at the top of the night-hunting food chain. While I was fairly sure I could handle individual werecain, Nichtvren—especially Masters—were something else entirely. The few suckheads I’d met since I’d become almost-demon were scary if only for the amount of Power they carried.

  Let’s face it, they were also old enough to make me feel like an idiot child. Too old to be strictly human anymore. If I survived, how long would it be before I was like them?

  That was the scariest thing of all.

  “You go in front of me.” I shoved my sword in the loop on my rig and bent to pick up the slicboard. “Where I can see you.” A few quick flicks of my fingers stripped the magwiring off, a press against the controlpad activated the home-return function. Then I dropped it. It would be picked up by the next maintenance bot and returned to its owner, a little worse for wear, maybe. I wasn’t strictly a thief.

  Not of something so paltry as a slicboard, anyway. The next thing I would steal would be a life.

  My left arm felt cold and clumsy. The scar throbbed, holding back the chill from the Gauntlet. I wished I had time to figure out how to take the damn thing off.

  He made a slight, pretty moue with his sculpted mouth. “You do not trust me?”

  “I’m getting to the point where I don’t trust myself. If you really don’t know where Japhrimel is—”

  “He should have been with you, belle morte, guarding his prize. If he has left your side, it is something extraordinaire.” Tiens took one graceful backward step, making a fluid gesture with his hands, expressing surprise and resignation all at once. The flat sheen of an alleycat’s eyes at night closed over his blue eyes as he contemplated me, folding his arms. “I think we shall go slowly, for your sake.”

  I took a deep breath, struggling with irritation and the fresh urge to draw my sword. “Just tell me where the Nest is, and I’ll go. You can do what you like.”

  “If I am to do as I please I shall accompany you, pretty one. A pleasant job in a world full of unpleasantness, non?”

  And while you’re keeping an eye on me you’ll be hoping for Japh to show up. I gave up, and followed him. It wasn’t worth a fight. Besides, I wanted to see Selene and Nikolai anyway.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Nest was downtown on Ninth, in a building that looked like a renovated block of apartments. It was incongruous in the middle of a parklike lawn, prime downtown realty treated like a suburban estate by a Nichtvren. Then again, Nikolai was the Prime of the City; he could afford it. For him to have a grandiose lair was expected.

  Inside, the halls were dim and restful. I smelled lemon oil, beeswax, polish, and the delicious wicked perfume of Nichtvren. They smell so distinctly sweet, maybe it’s the decaying blood. But there’s also a hint of sinful dark chocolate, wine, and secret sex to them. My Paranormal Anatomy professor at the Academy had called them “the pimps of the night world” once, right before he was fired. I guess Doctor Tarridge had a bone to pick with Nichtvren.

  Lots of people do.

  The cloak of Power laid over the Nest was cold and prickling, full of defenses and the weight of a Master’s will. My own shielding drew close, my numb shoulder prickling a warning.

  I saw nobody but was sure we were watched. When Tiens swept open a pair of double mahogany doors and led me into a firelit hall floored in parquet worthy of the Renascence, I had to suppress the urge to applaud sardonically. My eyes were hot and grainy, my shoulders tight, and I was hungry. I hadn’t noticed it before, but when the adrenaline faded I was reminded I hadn’t eaten for a while. I needed the physical fuel—not like Japhrimel.

  Will you stop thinking about him? He’s fine, he can take care of himself. Besides, he left you with McKinley. He can’t have been too worried about your well-being.

  A tall broad-shouldered shape stood in front of the fire, his hands hanging loose and graceful at his sides. Selene, the Consort, was thrown down in a huge red-velvet wingback chair, one leg hooked over the arm, her head resting against the high back. She tensed and flowed to her feet as we approached, pulling down the hem of her black sweater with one graceful yank. “Valentine.” She managed to sound happy and disapproving at once. “Thank you, Tiens.”

  He swept a courteous bow. All he needed was a feathered hat, like in the old Dumas holovids starring Bel Percy. “For you, demoiselle, anything.”

  Nikolai stirred. He was a tallish Nichtvren male, dark eyes under a soft shelf of dark hair and a face an Old Master might have painted—wide, generous mouth now compressed into a thin line, sculpted cheekbones, winged dark eyebrows. An angel’s face, carved in old Renascence stone. Not as sexless or alien as a demon’s face could be. “I suppose I have you to thank for this chaos, demonling.” Catshine folded over his dark eyes.

  One trashed hotel room qualifies as chaos? Does he know about Gabe? “Two of my friends have been murdered and there’s a price on my head that shouldn’t be there,” I replied shortly. “If there’s chaos it’s not my fault. You promised to look
after Gabe.”

  It hadn’t quite been a promise, but he’d sent a credit disc she could use to get into his office building downtown if she was in trouble. And I’d been secure in the knowledge that Nikolai and Selene were looking after Gabe, after the whole Mirovitch thing. Nikolai didn’t take it kindly when sexwitches were attacked; Selene had been one before she’d Turned. Whatever story was behind that, I didn’t want to know. I only wanted to know why the Nichtvren hadn’t stepped in to protect Gabe.

  Nikolai inclined his head, and the air went cold and still. Selene moved forward between us.

  “Let’s not start like this. I asked Tiens to look for her.” Her dark-blue eyes were eloquently wide, and far more human than his. “Hello, Dante. I’m sorry for your loss. We were watching over Gabriele Spocarelli. Whoever killed her and her husband—”

  I almost choked. “Husband?” Gabe married him? Wow. She didn’t invite me to the wedding or tell me about her kid. Gods. What, did she think I’d refuse to come? “Oh.” I shook my head. “Go on. I’m sorry.”

  “We have troubles of our own.” Nikolai’s voice was clawed silk. “A sedayeen clinic under our protection has been firebombed. And there are demons in my city, causing damage and killing Magi. What do you know of that, demonling?”

  Tiens whistled, a long low sound that sliced the tension in the air. The fire popped and crackled. What are Nichtvren doing around open flame? I’ve seen them burn. I discarded the question, shivering at the memory. My right hand itched for my sword.

  Tiens said something low and fast, in Old Franje. Nikolai blinked, his attention shifting from me to the other Nichtvren. He replied in the same language, and Selene shook her head slightly at me, as if I was supposed to listen.

  I should have learned a couple of languages instead of slogging through Magi shadowjournals.

  I’d been studying shadowjournals and breaking code for years now. All useless, because I knew next to nothing about the Fallen. Nothing about hedaira except for what I’d figured out on my own—and what Anwen Carlyle had just told me. I’d have been better off spending my time studying Old Franje and Czechi. Or trying to figure out the language of demons.

  The conversation lasted just over eight minutes, but when it was done Nikolai’s eyes returned to me. “Well. It appears you are an innocent. I never thought to say that of a demon.”

  “I’m not demon,” I said. “I’m hedaira.” But I barely even know what that means. I only know enough to get myself in trouble.

  Selene folded her arms. Every time she spoke or moved Nikolai paid attention to nothing else, the rumor was she was the only thing in the city he cared about. The way he looked at her, I could believe it. “Why don’t you come with me, Dante? I have a few things to tell you.”

  “Selene.” Nikolai’s voice was soft, warning.

  She shook her dark-blonde hair back, the gold threaded through her mane reflecting the ruddy firelight. If Tiens was pretty and Nikolai severely angelic, she was exquisite, every line expressly designed for maximum beauty. She looked almost unreal, especially since she had lost a little of the nervous energy I’d seen in her last time. Besides, she was fragrant even for a Nichtvren—a smell that reminded me of sexwitch musk. If she’d once been a sexwitch, that would explain it. “Loosen up, Nikolai.”

  “Remember our bargain.”

  I shivered. I’d heard that kind of thing before, and could only guess what sort of agreement could be reached between two Nichtvren. Especially a Prime and his Consort.

  “I thought we’d gone beyond bargains.” Her attention fixed on a point above my right shoulder, her back presented to him as her shoulders stiffened.

  “You make it necessary, milaya. Not me.” From where I was standing, I saw his face change, softening. He seemed to have forgotten Tiens and me, his eyes focused on Selene’s back.

  It felt vaguely voyeuristic, to watch his face as he looked at her, his mouth softening and his eyes speaking in a language I didn’t need to be Nichtvren to understand. Whatever else happened between the Prime and Selene, he was in it hoverwash-deep over her. It was a very human look, and it made a lump rise in my throat.

  She managed to sound disdainful and amused at once. “I don’t force you into bargains, Nik. You’re the one always trying to bargain. You’d think after a few hundred years you would learn it doesn’t work.”

  He shrugged, a fluid inhuman movement she probably felt, even if she couldn’t see it. “You are still here, are you not? I keep my promises.”

  “Good.” She moved forward, turning on her heel when she reached me and threading her arm through mine. I twitched—it was my right arm, and if I needed to draw I’d have to shake her off. “And I keep mine. I’m going to help her. You can just sit and rot if you want.”

  “Selene—”

  “No, Nik.” Her jaw set.

  “Selene—” Was that pleading in his voice? It was a unique experience, to hear a Nichtvren Master pleading.

  Selene was having none of it. “No.” Her voice made the pictures rattle on the wall, furniture groaning just a little under the weight of her Power.

  “Lena.” His voice turned soft, private. I wanted to look down at the floor to give them some privacy, couldn’t move.

  She tensed. “You don’t own me, Nikolai. I stay because I want to. Do we need to have this discussion again?”

  His shoulders slumped, he ran one stiff-fingered hand back through his dark hair. I think it was the only time I ever saw a Nichtvren look defeated. Tiens studied his boot toes, not-paying-attention very loudly for such a silent pose.

  “Do not leave the nest, milaya. Not without me. Please.”

  So he thought she was going to come out to play with me? Was that it? Thanks but no thanks. It was ridiculous of me to be more frightened of suckheads than demons, but there it was.

  “I’ll think about it.” She tugged on my arm. I had no choice but to follow. “Have fun, boys.”

  Nikolai’s eyes rested on me for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if he was going to blame me for whatever lovers’ spat was happening between him and his Consort. I didn’t care—all I wanted to do was pump her for information about Gabe and the sedayeen clinic. Eddie was hanging out with sedayeen right before he died; and a Shaman from that same clinic had come to Abra’s trying to find me. And now the place had been bombed? Was it the same clinic? How many sedayeen clinics were at risk of being bombed in Saint City? It was vanishingly unlikely that it wasn’t connected.

  Well, great. At least I know where I’m going next.

  Not to mention the deaths of a string of Magi and demons causing havoc. Nikolai assumed it had something to do with me, and I wasn’t sure he was far wrong, no matter what Tiens had told him or how little I knew about it.

  Selene all but dragged me out of the room and shut the door behind us, then let out a gusty sigh. “Come with me.” She let go of my arm, indicating the hall with one graceful movement. “You don’t know Franje.”

  I headed the way she pointed, she fell into step beside me. Our boots clicked against the flooring. “No.”

  “Tiens told Nik that the green-eyed Eldest is hunting a stray demon in this city, and you were being kept out of the fray for your own good. Nik asked if the Eldest was calling in the favor, and Teins replied there was no favor to be called in, but that the Eldest would be extremely displeased if you were not given some shelter, at least.” She sounded grimly pleased with herself. “I don’t think Nikolai realizes I’ve been using hypnotapes to teach myself languages. I hate it when he tries to talk to people around me.”

  I was surprised into a short bitter laugh. “You and me both. What demon is Japh hunting here?”

  Her shrug was a marvel of fluidity. “I’m no Magi. Someone demon management wants captured alive, I’m told. That’s all.”

  There was only one demon fitting that bill. Japhrimel was hunting Eve, here in Saint City.

  And he expected to hide it from me. Even Tiens and Nikolai knew more about what w
as going on with the demons than I did. I was fairly sure the “green-eyed Eldest” didn’t mean Lucifer. Anyway, Lucifer wouldn’t want me sheltered. He would want me dead; especially if he figured out I’d met with Eve and was determined to help her.

  I was beginning to wonder if he would get his wish—and beginning to wonder if there was anyplace on earth where someone didn’t owe a demon a favor. “Which clinic?” I asked. Fortieth was a big street.

  “Fortieth and Napier. Edge of the Tank District. I remember when that was empty lots, before the first transport well was excavated.”

  “How long have you been with Nikolai?” It was a rude question, but I was honestly curious—both about that and about why she seemed to have taken such a shine to me.

  “Long enough to know he’ll come looking for me soon to make sure I’m not doing anything ‘rash.’ I swear, he gets more paranoid every decade, it’s a wonder he isn’t suspicious of breathing.” She led me through dim, quiet halls, I saw a bust of a Roma emperor and a couple of other priceless artifacts. I was willing to bet she’d done the decorating, it didn’t look overblown enough to be a really old Nichtvren nest. A couple of holovid-still mags were exclusively dedicated to paranormal homes; I’d glanced through one or two and come away with the idea that the older Nichtvren got, the more cluttered and tasteless their interiors became, crammed with valuables.

  Selene paused in front of a double door made of oak and barred with iron. The shields on the room behind it were tough and spiky, no type of magick I’d ever seen before.

  The mercenary in me was appalled—a totally new type of shielding? Gods, I was slipping. The trained Power-worker in me was fascinated. “Who did those?”

  “Nikolai. And he hired a couple of Magi to do a few more layers. But don’t worry, you’re with me.” She walked right up to the doors, the layers of energy shimmering and pulsing—then softening as they touched her. It was oddly intimate, even the Prime’s defenses recognized her.