She let out an unsteady, barking little laugh that it hurt him to hear. “What happened? I had to drag you through blackberry bushes and put up with that SOB—” She tilted her head toward the Deputy Master. “—trying to tell me to just let you die. You can’t die, Ryan. Not after I dragged your ass up that goddamn hill.”
I never thought I’d live to hear Shelton referred to as a SOB. Ryan made his fingers loosen. His entire body ached, yanked back from shock. He would need a little bit of bedrest and a few protein loads before he was near fighting capacity again. He’d pushed the limits of even a Drakul’s strength. He vaguely remembered taking on a High One, blind with the rage of his demon half. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled, and she clambered off the bed, giving him a venomous look that cheered him up immensely. “No dying allowed.” He sounded hoarse but much more alert now.
“You better believe it.” Someone moved aside for her, and she dropped into a chair by the bedside, then reached over and grabbed his hand, lying discarded on the plain dun blanket. Against the bare white walls and low ceiling of the dormitory, she seemed almost to glow. She darted another glance at the Deputy Master, whose face had settled into an interested, bland expression. “This is my Drakul,” she informed him, tartly. Ryan felt, even if he couldn’t see, the sudden attention of the other Drakulein, each of whom held completely still, waiting. Her fingers laced through his. “I’m told the Golden have Drakul bodyguards. So this one’s mine. If you want anything out of me, anything at all, you’d better be nice to him.”
The Deputy Master paled under the rich tone of his skin. “You’re the boss.” He managed to make the words sound sarcastic, at least, even under the pressure of Chess’s withering look. “Just be careful. They’re not human, no matter how much they like to pretend.”
“More human than the Malik who turned us over to the Unspeakable.” She looked back down at Ryan, who almost wished he could be a fly on the wall at the next Council meeting. Her fingers were warm in his, and she squeezed his hand, the feel of her skin electric against his. “More human than supercilious fatheads who treat other men like animals. If you guys want to hang out in my city, there’s a few things that are going to change around here. Now get out, before I decide I dislike your face more than I already do.”
Ryan winced, but the Deputy Master turned on his heel and stalked away. He waited until the door had closed at the far end of the dormitory’s hall to clear his throat. I could get up if I had to. I could. Yeah, sure I could. “That wasn’t wise, Chess.”
“Wise, schmise.” She shook her head, dark hair falling in her eyes. She blew a strand of it back irritably, and his heart leapt inside his chest. “Well, what are the rest of you staring at? Huh?”
Wisely, perhaps, nobody answered her. Instead, the feeling of presence leached away as the Drakulein slowly, silently, went back to their everyday lives, some leaving through the doors at either end of the hall, others moving to the tables at the far end of the room to clean their weapons and talk in hushed tones.
“Are you really all right?” she asked finally, reaching over with her bandaged left hand to touch his forehead anxiously, as if checking him for fever. The gauze scratched his skin, but her fingertips were warm.
No, I’m not. I feel like hell, and you just opened up a giant can of worms. The Deputy Master’s not going to take this well, and he’s an enemy I don’t want to make. “Better.” He squeezed her hand, too. But gently. Very gently. “You dragged me up a hill? Through blackberries?”
Her chin set, and she scowled stubbornly at him. “I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”
Oh, Christ. “Chess—”
“Don’t.” The color had drained from her cheeks, and she looked close to tears again. “We’re going to have to talk about your habit of manhandling me. And that ‘sweetheart’ thing has really got to go. And maybe I should find another apartment, now that the Inkani know where I live. But . . . I mean, are you really . . . do you think you could stand to stick around me? For a while?”
Oh, my God. Is she saying what I think she’s saying? “Stick around?” I sound like I have a rock caught in my craw. Good one, Ryan.
The blush came back. She dropped her eyes, staring at the comforter and shifting uneasily on the chair. “Well, I suppose this qualifies as dating, doesn’t it? In a totally weird, twisted sort of way.”
She is. She is saying what I think she’s saying. Oh my God. “Um.” He couldn’t find the words he wanted, settled for whatever came to mind. “Jesus Christ, Chess. You’re beautiful. I adore you. I’ve adored you since the first time I . . . God. Yes. Goddammit, yes.”
Was that relief that passed over her face? She let out a heavy sigh, and he saw the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of exhaustion on her. She’d need a little bit of a break. Of course, getting her to slow down would be like trying to stop the Titanic from sinking, probably.
“I really like you, too. Go figure, I finally find some decent boyfriend material and he’s half demon.”
It stung, but only briefly. He was part-demon, and he was grateful for it. If he hadn’t been, he’d have died, and she might even now be chained to an obsidian altar while the High Ones tore the soul from her beautiful, fragile body. “You have great taste in music.”
“Really?” She actually smiled, a tremulous, trying-to-be-cheerful smile. “Well, that’s something. Do you think this is going to . . . work?”
Christ, sweetheart, I don’t care if it works or not. All I want is to keep you alive; that’s enough for me. “I think it will.” He heard something approaching certainty in his voice, almost flinched away from it. His body sank into the bed, the demon satisfied, lying quiescent under the surface of his mind. “But we’re going to have to work on our communication, sweetheart.”
“What did I tell you about that sweetheart shit?” But her smile widened, and lying there heavy and fatigued on the narrow cot, in the middle of a Drakul dormitory, he suddenly felt . . . light. And happy, for once.
“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, and closed his eyes, willing himself to heal.
Epilogue
“Will you hold still?” She bit her lower lip, her quick fingers moving, and he tried his best to stay absolutely still. The late-afternoon sun coming in through the window picked out highlights in her beautiful dark hair, sleekly pulled back into a French twist. She wore a blue silk T-shirt and a pencil skirt that were entirely too form-fitting for his comfort. Just looking at her was an . . . well, an uplifting experience, to say the least.
“Why do I have to do this?” It was only a half-serious complaint, but it earned him a single golden glance that could have broken a window.
“Dad likes boyfriends who wear ties. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. You’re almost home free. After we go to dinner with them you can stop wearing a tie. It’s the rules.”
“How did you talk me into this?” He glanced around the apartment—stacks of boxes, the bookcases empty and forlorn, her couch and entertainment center already in the new apartment. Tomorrow the real moving would begin, several Drakul showing up to help. But for tonight, they were knocking off the packing early. The apartment smelled of disturbed dust, the golden scent of Chess’s skin, and Drakul; it was a heady mixture. Heady, and soothing at the same time. The windows and doors had been repaired and the loose ends tied off. The Order had done all the damage control necessary.
“Sweetie, there’s only so long I can keep a boyfriend away from my mother. She and Dad have heard a lot about you from Charlie, they want to meet you. We’ll be in a public place, so you’ll be safe. And tomorrow Dad will be amazed at how polite you are and how well you and all your nice, young, musclebound friends help carry boxes.” She finished the half-Windsor, stepped back, and ran a critical eye down him. “Hmm, you look really nice in a suit. Who knew?” Her earrings, silver hoops, glittered as they swayed.
“Bite your tongue, missy.” He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. “There’s no place to hide a gun in this getup
.”
She grimaced. “You’d look like a Mafia hitman. Take your bag, you can hide all sorts of stuff in there.”
He caught her wrist before she could turn away. “Tell me again why I’m doing this.” But his mouth curled up into a half-smile, one she answered with a grin of her own.
“Because you adore me, and want to make me happy. And I will be very happy seeing you wriggle under Mom’s eagle eye and Dad’s pointed questions.” Damn the woman, she sounded much too pleased with the thought.
He checked the fall of sunlight again. “We’d better get going.” His thumb drifted across the underside of her wrist gently, and he was rewarded with her smile turning sleepy and her eyelids dropping a fraction. Goddamn. If she licks her lips and gives me that come-hither look, I don’t think we’re going to get out of here on time, parents or no parents.
The city still wasn’t completely safe, but the High Ones had vanished. Chess refused to have any Malik standing watch. Instead, she took a page from Evrard Halston’s book, and told the Order the Drakul were welcome to come patrol and stand guard, and that female Malik researchers were welcome to make appointments to study the books Halston had left behind. But no Halston book ever left the library building, and some of the Malik researchers had begun to show signs of potential. And with all the Drakulein around . . .
Chess met regularly with the Drakul who had requested permission to come and be part of the first Phoenicis Guard since Halston’s time. All twenty of them, and more transfer requests were pending.
I don’t care who you sleep with, she’d told them, folding her arms. What I care about is you doing your job and taking care of this city. The safer this city is, the safer whoever you’re sleeping with is. You’re all old enough to understand that, am I right?
It was a hell of an experiment, and one the Malik weren’t happy about. But for right now, Chess was the Phoenicis of Jericho City, and that was the way it was, period. And her sister was beginning to show signs of interest in sorcery too.
Now that would be interesting. Between the two of them, it’s going to be one hell of a time around here.
The stonekin had sent a delegation to her, and Ryan sometimes caught glimpses of them, especially at night while he and Chess patrolled the city for signs of demon activity. They were watching over her too, and that was comforting. The more help, the better. The remaining species of Others were observing a low profile, obviously waiting to see how this was going to shake out.
“Ryan?” Chess’s voice pulled him back from contemplating the fall of sunlight against her hair. “You okay?”
“Just thinking, sweetheart. You ready?” He managed to let go of her wrist, one finger at a time.
“Just have to step into my shoes and get my bag. You look really nice.” She reached up, fiddled with his collar, her knuckle brushing his jaw. “I never thought you’d be the young-professional type.”
“Can’t hunt demons in a suit.” He let his eyes move over her face again, from her pretty cheekbones to her liquid eyes, dropping to take in the curve of her mouth.
“Mmh.” Her hand slid around his nape, and she pulled his head down.
She was a little breathless by the time she let him go, and he kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek. “We could always reschedule dinner,” he murmured into her ear. That earned him a laugh. She still had nightmares, of course, but that was to be expected. He was just grateful to be there when she woke up. And I used to think librarians were boring.
“No way. Mom would kill me.” She stepped back, he let her go.
“Not while I’m around, sweetheart.” He meant to say it lightly, failed miserably. But she only smiled again.
“Pfft. Demons you might be able to handle, but Mom’s entirely different. Come on, get your bag. Let’s go.”
“Yes ma’am.” You’re the boss, Chess. At least for this run.
“Hey, Ryan?” She stepped into a pair of black square-heeled shoes, and he tore his eyes away from the smooth muscles working in her calf.
“Hmm?” He found her purse and his bag on the cluttered kitchen table, made sure the Fang was safely stowed in her purse. Always prepared, isn’t she. He took great care not to actually touch the knife.
“How do you feel about marriage?” Her tone was excessively neutral, as if she wasn’t sure how he’d react.
Jesus Christ. His heart began to pound. “Sounds good.” Holy hell. I sound like I just swallowed a skornac egg. Jesus Christ on a crutch. “But let’s get dinner with the fam out of the way first.”
“Tease.”
He half-turned, settling the bag strap on his shoulder and holding her purse. I think I’m having a heart attack. “I can think of several ways to disprove that accusation, sweetheart.”
The sun slipped behind a low cloud, and shadow drifted through the room. But Chess grinned, and the squeezing inside Ryan’s chest wasn’t unpleasant at all. The demon stirred uneasily inside his head. Mine, it whispered, and settled back, watchful.
“Okay, big guy. I’ll take you up on that. Come on, let’s go, we’re going to be late.” She held out her hand for her purse, and he had to step over a box full of books before he could approach her.
“Lead the way, Chess. I’m right behind you.”
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Demon’s Librarian. Copyright ©2009 by Lilith Saintcrow. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express permission of ImaJinn Books, Inc.
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