She rummaged through the drawers, finding nothing particularly interesting: real estate and other business documents, a few financial reports that made her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, and in with the stationary things a glittering silver dagger in an old black leather sheath. She freed a couple of inches to the blade and thought she could hear the edge slicing the air itself. It seemed to ring quietly as it rubbed against the leather, and May was surprised at the elegance of the enchantment it clearly carried. She slid it back into the sheath, feeling the power dampen as the leather covered it. Interesting thing to keep in one’s desk drawer with the pens and paperclips. She put it down gently on the book closest to her, tracing the simple leaf pattern that decorated the small crossguard and pommel.
She looked at the computer’s dark screen. The light on the tower indicated that it would take just a small movement to wake it up. She should leave his computer alone, digging through his digital files felt too personal somehow. Like reading a diary. Computers kind of are modern diaries, after all. May wrinkled her nose at the thought. She knew she was snooping, but perhaps it was justified? I mean, they were supposed to be partners now, after all. She had a right to know as much about him as she could, right? She started reaching a hand out to the keyboard just as Paula came around the door, chattering something about lunch and plans for the afternoon. She stopped talking when she saw May’s face, however, and came into the room.
“What are you up to, hon?” Paula had asked. May blinked up at her mentor.
“What are you going to do?” May asked. Her throat felt hot and dry and she had to squeeze the words out.
“What do you mean, May?” Paula asked. “What am I going to do about what?”
“About Michael. And James. And… and all of this!” May swept her hand around trying to indicate the room or the apartment, or possibly the whole universe. “You and Lee aren’t just here to make breakfast, are you?” She didn’t even know what her question meant. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear.
“Do you mean are we going to try to forcibly sever the Bond? Try to remove his Mark, if it’s even possible? Fight him? Kill him even, Something like that?” Paula caught May’s wandering gaze and held it. “Is that what you want us to do? Do you feel unsafe around him?”
“I don’t know.” May finally admitted. “No. I don’t feel unsafe, which is weird when you think about it. He’s never done anything particularly wrong that I know of. Until now, anyway, and if he is telling the truth then James actually wanted him to do it, which is maybe the worst part. But he’s a demon! A powerful High Demon! How could he possibly be a Guardian? I keep thinking about what he must have done to get that Mark, and…” Her mind caught up with her words and choked them off. Michael had consumed James’ soul. There was no other possible way. For a moment the sight of Paula in front of her was blurred by tears and the edge of May’s vision turned dark. How dare he do that! Even if James did ask him to, he should have refused! And how could he even think they’d believe him that James had actually asked a demon to consume his soul?! How gullible did Michael think they were? Fury swept over her again and she started to shake with it. Paula’s hand on May’s own made her blink, and the moment drained away leaving her feeling weak, a throbbing pain beating at her temples.
“May. I have two questions for you to think about, but you have your own choice to make. I won’t force you to work with Michael if you feel that you can’t. I would love to have you back at the Temple with me; Gods know that I could use an intelligent research assistant for a change.” Paula smiled. “But I need you to think about two things before you make that decision, and I mean really think about it. First, do you believe that Michael— not demons in general but Michael specifically— is untrustworthy? The second question is in some ways less complicated, and in some ways a great deal more so. Countless demons have, over the centuries, consumed the souls of countless Guardians and even a not insignificant number of Priestesses, and not one single demon has ever come away with any new power. Never once has a Mark been transferred like this. Never in all the millennia of this struggle has this sort of thing happened What was it that was different about this time?” Paula squeezed May’s hand and smiled again. “Now you go take your shower and get ready for the day. Lee and I will be right here for you the whole time.”
May just nodded. It was all she could manage.
Some time later, after she was showered and actually dressed, May sat in a chair in the front room, legs stretched out to prop on a windowsill as she glared at the book she had swept from Michael’s desk as her excuse for being at his desk. The dagger, having been swept up at the same time, was nestled in her lap under a flap of her cardigan. She listened to Paula talk into the cordless phone.“How’s it going, any luck?” Paula answered the phone from the TV console by jumping straight into the conversation.
May watched her sit down at the dining table and nod a few times even though the caller couldn’t see her.
“Ok, well good luck. And let us know if you find anything else out.” Paula set the phone down on the table and sighed. “Well it looks like we were right this morning. Michael found the warehouse that those beasts had been living in. It seems to have been some sort of breeding kennel and they simply escaped while their minder wasn’t watching. Unfortunately it also seems that there’s at least one more pack of them somewhere nearby. He spoke to a witness who’d been living behind the place.”
“So what do we plan to do about it?” May asked. Her stomach was churning.
“Well, Michael is going to try to track down this other location. Meanwhile, we are going to the library to do some research.” Paula stood up and hurried out of the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Michael strode away from the warehouse, frustrated that he hadn’t discovered more and exhausted from easing the imp back from terror to mere wariness. Well at least he had learned something, and that was better than knowing nothing at all. He called his own landline phone number, chastising himself for not getting contact information for Paula and Lee directly, and was pleased when Paula answered quickly. He gave her what little information he had learned and she said May had been getting restless so they were heading out. He was glad, as that gave him some time to think, finally. He had to admit it did feel good to be doing something again. He had been getting bored, watching his little business empire practically run itself. He was glad of his success— money did give him greater freedom to do as he liked— but nothing lately seemed to really interest him. Now, however…
The whisper of power behind him brought him fully alert. It tingled along the edge of his senses like a feather, strong, flexible, and feminine. That could only be the woman the imp had spoken of. He dropped a layer of his control to attempt attracting her attention, and sure enough she noticed. She prowled along behind him at such a constant pace that he knew she was tracking him, just as he was watching her. Very well, Michael smiled to himself. Let’s play a game.
He had been walking back to the River Trail, intending to return home but instead turned off the path just after it emerged from the woods, heading across the street and entering the foyer of a centuries old house turned trendy restaurant. He nodded a greeting to the hostess who recognized him.
“The bar upstairs just opened, Mr. Gilbert. You’ve got great timing! Go on up and I’ll send Melissa your way.” He smiled back at her, friendly and open, most of his attention still on the demoness following him. He climbed the steps and emerged onto the open air balcony overlooking the river and sensed her hesitate outside. Striding to the balcony railing he surveyed the street while seeming to gaze across to the river scene. It was far too crowded on this lovely evening to pick her out, and anyway she was moving away now, satisfied that she knew where he would be for a while, he suspected. Patience was always part of these games, he mused.
“Here you go, Mr. Gilbert. Your usual. Would you like the food menu or just a drink today?” Melissa chirped.
“Just th
e drink right now, thank you. How are classes going?” He asked.
“Not too bad, actually. My lab professor is trying to get me an assistantship for next year, and wants me to take a couple extra classes over the summer. She says that I’ve got a lot of promise!”
“I have every faith that you’ll make your mark on the world. I can say I knew you once and nobody will believe me.” Michael smiled.
“Mr. Gilbert, you’re such a flirt.” She beamed before turning and attending the couple who had just settled on the cushioned lounge in the corner. It was a good tavern, he thought, and good policy to become a staff favorite. Just remember their names and a fact or two. He’d made it a game over the years, even before leaving his clan, and he’d gotten good at it. The hard part for him was to learn to seem less dour once he fled the familiar. He turned to the railing of the balcony and leaned on it, looked down into the street, remembering again about his first encounter with a human and being warned to beware of the dangerous things that lurked in the darkness of the nearby hills. The fellow had been more than drunk enough that he hadn’t realized he had in fact been speaking to one of those very dangerous creatures he was warning against.
He sipped his scotch and let his mind wander back over the years, to when Riverton had been much smaller, not much more than a port and some warehouses providing access to the bigger cities further inland. He scurried around the edges of the town for almost a year, watching to see how best to blend in and what opportunities he might find. He’d had his first encounter with a Priestess that year as well, escaping an attack as she and her Guardians tried to exterminate the threat they thought that he posed.
He’d learned from that encounter and made plans for his future. He found ways to shield his power from detection by those who sought out his kind for any number of reasons, spent several years traveling, worked his way into a small mining company and ended up owning it and several others. Studying the history of the Temple, and discovering many of the techniques they used in the execution of their duties. By the time the next Priestess had come to town he was a respected, if reclusive, member of the community and provided employment for a small but significant portion of the town which was now thriving on it’s own, even apart from the port. He supposed she had been the first to decide that he wasn’t worth fighting simply for the sake of the fight. She had simply kept a close and wary eye on his activities, in case her team should need to intervene. Possibly the first opponent he’d ever had that had felt that way, a far cry indeed from his homeland.
His homeland. He hadn’t thought of his clan in a long time, he realized. In those early years there was barely a minute that passed that he didn’t think of it. He’d missed his chambers so badly that it was a physical ache those nights he spent in the woods that first year, then in the shabby rooms in the boarding house he had taken up residency in for several years after that. They had been a far cry indeed from his comfortable suite of rooms with their thick carpets, well equipped workspace, and comfortable bed. He had come to realize how much his servants had done for him so he could focus on his own interests. Who did they serve now?
A new drink had appeared at his elbow. He gently swirled the ice around the nearly empty glass in his hand and waited. He wasn’t sure how long he would have to wait, but his pursuer was clearly interested in him— he wasn’t convinced that interest could be explained solely by investigating his own curiosity in the warehouse. Michael was sure she would come back or she wouldn’t have followed him so long. There was something more familiar about her energy than could be explained simply by her demonic nature. He idly watched a barge make it’s slow way up towards the docks and searched his memory for an explanation.
The petite woman stopped as soon as she walked in the warehouse door, her original purpose forgotten the moment she sensed such recent use of power. His power, it had to be! No human left a trace like that, and she strongly doubted any other demons were here in this part of the human realm. Gibil himself had been here, though he was gone now. She had to find him, quickly! Which way had he gone? She reached out as far as she could and there, on the edge of her senses she felt it: raw, surging, wild power held carefully in check. One of her own kind, a demon. It had to be him. She had him, finally! Finally! She gloated to herself and hurried after the moving source of that energy.
She wondered why the power she sensed was so agitated. Perhaps he was angry that he couldn’t find her? The only reason that he could have gone to that warehouse in the first place was to find where her hounds had come from. He had found them, perhaps, dying on that battlefield, and wondered about them— she had sensed him there, after all, but only slightly. And now he had tracked her! How wonderful! He must be lonely, after all this time. She couldn’t blame him, either, having been stuck here and surrounded by these awful humans for so long. She herself had only been in the human realm for a few years, traveling here soon after the final purging that had killed her father and swept her life into such misery, and she understood well how lonely and suffocating it was to be surrounded by those who were so… she shuddered, unable to come up with a descriptive enough word in any of the languages she spoke. So much lesser than demonkind.
A knowing, greedy smile spread over her face. She should offer him some sympathy and the company of his own kind. Once she knew where he was going she could make herself a bit more… presentable. Not that she thought it would take much, the poor thing must be desperate by now.
She ran her hand over her hair and brushed down her clothes and almost despaired. She had dressed hurriedly, with little thought other than completing the brief task of destroying the now empty warehouse— she wasn’t ready to meet him! She just needed a short chance to change her clothes, that was all, once she knew where she could find him. She would make herself as attractive as she could while keeping up her glamour, anyway. Once they were alone she could encourage him properly to join her.
Finally, she’d be able to go home and be treated with the respect she deserved instead of derision thanks to her fool of a father and his poor choices. She could hold her head up and be celebrated as the one who brought Gibil home and restored him to his clan, thereby destroying the last bit of plotting that had begun with his flight!
There! He was going into a tavern of some sort. Not quite perfect, but it will do. She thought to herself, wishing he’d led her to his own chambers instead. She looked up at the building and thrilled when she spotted him leaning over the railing; his human face barely concealing his scarcely shielded power. Even with the glamour hiding his own true face he was handsome, and the woman in her responded in equal measure to the status hungry demon. Just wait there for a bit, I’ll be right back!
CHAPTER TWELVE
Michael stood at the railing of the patio and enjoyed the soft breeze. The balcony bar stretched slightly over the sidewalk, and across the road was the beginning of the River Trail Park, the other end of which had been destroyed. Here, though, it was still a pleasant path of crushed stone flanked by wide swatches of grass and small, carefully tended urban trees. Just past was the river and as he waited, he idly watched the boats float past, some just lazily soaking up the beautiful afternoon, some clearly moving with a purpose. Most of the river traffic here upstream of the warehouses were pleasure crafts, but there were still a last few of the shallow-bottomed barges that made the trip up to the village about four miles further on, like their families had done for generations, taking supplies up and bringing produce back down. He liked this bend of the river—had enjoyed it for some seventy years, long before this current tavern had been built— and came here when he had something he wanted to ponder but needed something to help keep his thoughts flowing. The river’s current had always worked perfectly for him.
It had been a long time since he’d lived so closely with others. It was a skill he had allowed to fade and now must resharpen. But it would be very different to live with humans. They were not like demons— certainly not those of his class. Ambition wa
s admired here, but only to a degree. It would not do to behave as if achieving an influential position or greater political power were the greatest of virtues; that may be true in the culture he had fled, but it was far from true here. Yes, there were humans who behaved that way, but they were usually considered villains, and not to be emulated.
He thought back to his childhood, fighting for position with the handful of other children in the clan, including several of his own siblings. He’d been able to start from a slight advantage due to the position of his father as the clan’s leader, but that had only counted for so much. Demon society was in some ways more egalitarian than human society. Anyone could achieve power and position if they fought hard enough for it. Sometimes that meant hard work, sometimes it meant cheating, and sometimes it meant violence, plain and simple. All three methods were encouraged by the adults, and the only other person one could often trust was one’s own mother. Even that was not a guarantee, but he himself had been fortunate in that his mother wished for his success. Michael had been no different from his peers in his understanding of the possible machinations of those around him, but he had simply wanted to keep his own position stable rather than advance it as far as possible and that had made him unusual. Michael had never understood the need to hoard political power like gold. He had position enough to allow him some luxuries— a well appointed suite of rooms, a few servants, access to a number of archives and laboratory supplies— it was honestly all he desired. More power had meant certain comforts, yes, but it had also meant more demons competing to take your place. More scrabbling for power meant more worrying and in truth he had been comfortable as he was, and saw no need to change it simply for the sake of change. He had no ambition, they had said of him. No drive. It was downright undemonic they had finally declared in what he now knew was their preparation for that last scrabble for power— the one that had left him without a place in his clan at all.
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