If I look left, I see the darkened windows of the Old Sass Café. I think about my work there, how much I enjoy talking to people and bringing them old-fashioned meals. The place is pretty in its own way, with the glass case showing off our freshly made pies, the red vinyl seats and the gold-flecked Formica tables, and the jukebox in the corner with its old songs. It still plays “Love Me Tender,” and “That’ll Be the Day,” and “Oh, Pretty Woman.”
I feel sad, and I don’t know why.
It’s dark, long past sunset, and there is only me, standing in the middle of the street.
Then I feel the ground tremble and I hear a terrible roar, and the glass blows out and the buildings explode with fire, crashing inward. I fall to my knees and cover my head. I’m screaming, but it blends with other screams.
When everything stops, I’m shaking so much I can barely lift my head. There is no more fire. Just crumbled buildings, and the smell of brimstone.
And there are bodies.
Where did they come from?
Scattered all around me, they are bloodied and still, with eyes staring up into the night. So many. So many.
“You did this.” A thousand voices from nowhere, from everywhere.
“No,” I cry. “Not me.”
But the recrimination is too sharp and cuts through me. I bleed guilt, and I look up, up into the storm-laden sky.
It’s thundering now, and lightning streaks through roiling clouds.
Not me, I think as I look around. My friends, my town, my life. I would never do this. How could I?
Broken Heart is gone.
Everyone is dead.
The voices scream their pain and vow their revenge, and I’m lost, so lost in the maelstrom of their accusations. And then…
It’s raining.
Chapter 7
“M‘aingeal.”
My eyes opened. I was shaking, my fingers twisted in Connor’s T-shirt. My heart did not move, nor my breath, nor my tears.
But I felt them all. Phantoms of physical suffering I could no longer feel.
Oh, but I ached. I was swept away by the power of the emotions still echoing from that… dream or whatever, and I couldn’t calm down.
“You were havin’ a nightmare,” he said softly.
“I don’t dream,” I said. My voice sounded hoarse; it felt like I’d been screaming. Maybe I had. “Vampires aren’t supposed to dream.”
He stroked my cheek with one calloused forefinger. “What troubles you, Phoebe?”
I couldn’t tell him. I was embarrassed to be clinging to this man. He held me securely, and he felt so good. I didn’t want him to feel good. Shouldn’t I be repelled? He’d lied to me in the worst way. Mated. Bonded. Married. It wasn’t a drunken Las Vegas mistake. It was a hundred years together. What would happen to us? What would happen to my son? My thoughts circled back to the odd dream… vision… memory.
“Connor, why did you mate with me? And what does it have to with this talisman?” Each word sounded cracked and rusted, like an old gate that’s lost its swing.
“How are you feelin’?”
Ah. The ol’ change of subject. “I feel like shit. But I’m alive. Undead. Whatever.”
“Ye’ll be fine now.” His breath ruffled my hair. “ ‘ Tis almost dawn,” he said. “When you awaken, we’ll talk.”
“Promise?”
He chuckled. “You know demons never make promises.”
“Well, I’m not gonna bargain with you.”
“Good call,” he said.
I’d slept the entire night, and I was still exhausted. And I still hurt.
“I didn’t check in,” I whispered. “I was supposed to call Danny at seven p.m. Jackson will worry. He knows I would never miss a call.”
“You dinnae think the Consortium will cover for you? They wouldna want a worried human nosin’ around.”
He was right. If Jackson couldn’t reach me, he’d call the backup numbers and get someone at the Consortium. I bet they’d already talked to him. Yeah. They’d come up with a good reason why I didn’t call, or they’d glamour him into thinking I had. Vampires from the Family Koschei had über-glamour – they could mind-whip just about anybody, even over the phone.
Honestly, I hadn’t paid much attention to the Consortium or Broken Heart’s paranormal government. The Consortium didn’t officially run the town. They were more like a think tank that spent money on research in technology and medicine. They had moved their headquarters to town, and their experiment gone wrong, poor Lorcan, had been directly responsible for eleven deaths. They took a particular interest in the Broken Heart Turn-bloods, and we had their protection forever.
I worked; I raised my son; I did all the things single moms do. I’d thought it was a simple life. A good life. But it bothered me that things were going on in Broken Heart, and out in the paranormal world, that I didn’t know about. Who knew what was unfolding that would affect all of us? I thought of that horrible vision of Broken Heart being destroyed and everyone being killed. I hoped it wasn’t a portent, because… God, I couldn’t even fathom it.
I was so tired. Every so often, a lightning bolt of pain would shoot up my spine and radiate into my limbs. “I don’t feel good,” I muttered. If dawn was close, I would be asleep again in no time. Vampires were biologically designed to shut down during the day. I wouldn’t have a choice.
“Just rest,” said Connor. His lips brushed across my brow. “You’ll be fine.”
“Shouldn’t be so nice,” I said sleepily, my words slurring. “You’re supposed to be mean, ‘member?”
“I’m a demon,” he said softly. “How could I have an ounce of kindness or conscience?”
“Damn straight.”
“Close your eyes, Phoebe.” He stroked my hair. “You can hate me tomorrow.”
———
I woke up starving.
I pushed off the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. The bed was so huge and high up that my feet hovered about half a foot off the floral carpet. Wow. I never figured Connor for a flowers kind of guy.
Dizziness assailed me, so I clutched the bedspread until everything stopped spinning.
I looked down at myself and grimaced.
Total ickfest. My shorts and shirt were wrinkled and smelled like old sweat. My hair felt stiff, and my mouth tasted like ashes.
Nice.
Connor was gone.
I didn’t have my cell phone or my knives or my Glock. I didn’t even have shoes. I wanted to shower and brush my teeth and kick someone’s ass.
Thoughts tumbled through my mind. It galled me that Connor had: a) disappeared. Just left me in his bedroom without a damn note or anything, and b) taken me someplace I couldn’t begin to escape from, and c) saved my undead butt (unless you counted the fact that he was the reason I’d been beaten and given the Taint). He’d bartered with another demon for the antidote. Then again, it just required some of his blood. So not much of a sacrifice there.
God, I was hungry.
I stood up, delighted my legs didn’t fold. I felt weak, but not sick. Nera’s spit-blood soup (ew) worked miracles.
“Connor?” I called out.
“Are you okay?” asked a little girl’s voice. The child, maybe seven or eight, skipped across the room and stopped about a foot away. Her blond hair was up in pigtails, her blue eyes fringed with long lashes. She wore a frilly dress the shade of pink cotton candy, little lace-rimmed socks, and black patent-leather shoes.
“Yeah,” I said. Okay. I was so not expecting a kid. “Where am I?”
“It’s my home.” She looked around, her bow-shaped lips puckered into a frown.
“It’s not Connor’s?”
She giggled. “No. Why would he live here?”
“Yeah. That’s just… silly.” I studied her more closely. My demon senses started to tingle, and I realized taking things at face value was unwise. “What are you?”
“You’re smart.” She twirled and lights sp
arked all around her. When the spinning sparkles faded, a teenage boy dressed like punk-band reject stood in her place. “And pretty. I can… you know… see why Connor digs you.”
His voice was low and sullen, his dark eyes filled with doubt about my intelligence.
“What just happened here?” I asked. Look at me. Not freaking out. Go, Phoebe. I was probably still in shock. Yay, shock. “Seriously. That’s freaky.”
“If… you know… you saw my true form, you’d go insane.” He slowly twirled a finger near his temple.
I absorbed this information. The sparkles appeared again, briefly enveloping the boy with wiggling, shiny beams. A woman dressed in a red cocktail dress and stilettos appeared. She looked like she’d fallen out of the pages of Glamour.
“Insane?” I asked. “Really?”
“Happens every time,” she said in a whiskey voice. “It’s difficult to have a conversation with someone babbling and weeping and tearing out their hair.”
“I imagine so.”
She nodded. “It’s really annoying.”
“And you know Connor how?”
She tilted her head, considering me. “I’m his sister. Well, his half sister. My name’s Jennifer.”
I blinked. “Jennifer?”
“The name my father gave me was long and terrible. Demonic names are so… melodramatic,” she said in a bored tone. “Connor said I could call myself whatever I wanted. He was the first one to pay me any attention. I mean, other than those who were screaming and losing their minds. Do you know that during one conversation a man’s eyes just melted right out of his head?”
I stared at her, horrified.
“TMI?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Way TMI.”
“Sorry. Connor says I need to learn” – she crooked her fingers into air quotes – “boundaries.”
Another light show erupted and then I was looking at a man in his fifties wearing an Armani suit and a corporate sneer. I tried to comprehend calling this guy Jennifer. Was this being… well, okay demon… female or male or both? Or neither?
“The others are waiting,” he said.
“Others?”
“Hmmm. Perhaps Connor would prefer you to stay here until he returns.”
“From where?”
His gaze shuttered. “From… downstairs. He must really like you to barter again with Nera.”
“The creepy lizard lady?”
She – er, he – nodded.
I remembered that Connor had mentioned Nera before, when all hell (hah) broke loose with Lilith.
“Maybe someone should go get him.”
Corporate Dude, aka Demon Jennifer, looked at me askance. “I don’t think he’d like that. I mean, he’s gotta stay there about a day or so to heal.”
“Heal?” I shot off the bed. “Heal what?”
Had he gotten the Taint, too? You’d think if demons started the damned disease, they’d suffer from it as well, but maybe… maybe… I sat down heavily. Why was I so worried about him? I was supposed to be angry.
But I was having a hard time working up my fury.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s just his eyes.” Jennifer sat next to me. “Sure, it hurts when they’re scooped out. But Nera’s careful. Not to be nice, mind you. She doesn’t want them to liquefy.”
I stared at him. Her. Whatever! “What are you talking about?”
A panicked look crossed his features. “Oh. Was I not supposed to say?” His brows slammed down. “Connor doesn’t usually ask me to keep secrets, ‘cause he knows I’m not good at it.”
“Nera took his eyes,” I said carefully. “Why?”
“Payment. For curing you.” He patted me on the shoulder. “He’s immortal. So they’ll grow back. In a day or two.”
Connor agreed to give up his eyes. To go blind while they regenerated to make sure I survived the Taint. The least I could do was repay his kindness. “Jennifer, I want you to take me to Connor.”
He slanted me a look. “You sure? The first level isn’t bad. But my place is much nicer. I have mastered making chocolatinis. Ever had one?”
“No,” I said. I didn’t point out that as a vampire, I couldn’t drink anything but blood. Unless I was in Broken Heart, of course. “I’m… um, Connor’s wife. And I should be where he is.”
He considered this piece of logic for a much longer time than I thought necessary.
“Weeeeeeell.” His hand clamped over my shoulder. “Okay!”
Then the world went dark and twisty.
Chapter 8
I arrived in a cave.
Above me, the ceiling writhed with hundreds of shifting red shapes. Okay. What the hell was that stuff? I shivered at the idea of snakes or worms. The vermilion glow did little to illuminate the gloom of the cavern. Not even my vampire eyes could penetrate the thick darkness. The whole place smelled vaguely of rotten eggs. Or was that me?
I heard the plink-plink of dripping water. I realized that not only did I have the clothes I’d casually thrown on yesterday (was it only yesterday? I couldn’t remember); I had no shoes (and no bra, sigh), but also I had no weapons.
One day, I’d really like to be prepared for a situation rather than just jumping into it. I guess I could always hope for a personality transplant.
“Connor?”
It was almost as if the sound of my voice were swallowed by the darkness. I examined the ceiling. The red squirmy things pulsed and wriggled. Red light drifted down enough for me to make out the craggy rock wall behind me, the gritty floor, and about five feet of the cavern in front of me.
Then I heard: Tiptiptiptip.
What was that?
The sounds got louder.
Tiptiptiptiptiptip.
“Connor?” I screeched.
The noise stopped, then started again. Louder. It was coming in my direction. Gawd. Connor? Demons? Elves? What was it?
I could sorta make out a small form coming toward me. It was on four legs. I backed against the wall, knowing my demon powers and vampire skills were weak. I could still throw a punch and kick, but my strength wouldn’t keep up through an extended fight.
I was so screwed.
The tiny figure finally emerged from the thick shadows and came right up to the pallet. It sat down, cocked its head, and stared at me.
“A Chihuahua?” I blinked down at it, unable to comprehend something so mundane. It was a mixture of white, black, and brown. He had big brown eyes, a tiny snout, and stick legs. He weighed maybe all of three pounds. “You’re a dog.”
His ears twitched, and he cocked his head the other way.
I couldn’t be sure he really was a Chihuahua.
A wave of rotten-egg stench rolled over me. “Are you a demon or is that just gas? Ugh! Dude, you’re disgusting.”
The dog straightened, looking offended. Then he got to all fours, whirled around, and started barking.
He was fierce, but those little yips weren’t scarin’ nobody. However, the creature slithering out of the darkness was another matter.
It sorta looked like a fat python with legs. It was black and scaly, and much, much bigger than the Chihuahua. It slithered and slithered, coiling its seemingly endless body until it rose a good three feet into the air. Its front legs kicked, and it hissed at the dog.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Dude! C’mere!”
If my heart could beat, it would be hammering out of my chest. Unnerved by the demon, I clutched at the wall, my fingernails scraping against pocked stone.
The damned mutt kept barking.
The demon opened its maw, showing sharp, slimy teeth, and, with its red gaze on the Chihuahua, it struck.
The Chihuahua ate the demon.
He.
Ate.
The.
Demon.
I watched in fascinated horror as the tiny dog opened its itty-bitty mouth and slurped that demon in as if it were a bowl full of delicious spaghetti.
When he was finished, he offered a small burp. Then he
turned toward me and wagged his tail.
We stared at each other a moment while relief shuddered through me.
“Good dog!” I cried. He galloped to me, so I squatted down and petted him. “What a good boy! Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Who’s the badass? That’s right. You are.”
He licked me right on the mouth, and I could taste the sulfur. Yech. Well, hell. I couldn’t deny the demon-eating Chihuahua a few kisses after he’d saved me.
“Scrymgeour!” Connor’s voice! He was out there in the freaking abyss. “Here, lad.”
The Chihuahua flipped around and ran into the shadows.
Sheesh. I’d been worried about Connor. I was ashamed at how much relief I actually felt. Because I couldn’t rectify my own feelings, I handily blamed the mating bond.
“Connor?”
“Lass! What’re you doin’ down here?”
“Your sister… um, zapped me.”
“I’ll send you back. You need to rest.”
“I know what you did,” I blurted. “I’m not going back without you.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tiptiptiptip.
Scrymgeour arrived first. Then Connor appeared at the edge of the shadowy domain I was – let’s be honest – afraid to even approach. He held a long, gnarled staff, using it to test the ground in front of him.
A strip of stained cloth covered his eyes.
“Oh, Connor!” I couldn’t keep the horror out of my tone.
He grimaced, but said nothing, continuing his slow progress toward the wall at my backside. His clothes were just as grimy as mine, his hair lanky, and his cheek sported Lilith’s deep scratches, though they’d begun to heal.
Worry fluttered inside me. He was blind, I was weak, and all we had to help us was the Chihuahua. How many demons could he eat? His digestive system was, like, four inches long.
“Dinnae worry, Phoebe.” He knelt down, holding on to the staff, and put out his hand. “Did you watch over our lady, Scrymgeour?”
The Chihuahua yipped and rubbed his back under Connor’s outstretched palm.
“He slurped down a demon like it was a milk shake,” I said, still astonished by the feat.
“Scrymgeour’s a hellhound. He eats demons for breakfast. Don’t you?” The dog wagged his tail and barked. Then he got on his belly and crawled toward Connor. He yipped, then whined. “Oh, now, lad. Dinnae worry. I’m sorry I left you so long, but I willna do it again.” The Chihuahua popped up and jumped onto Connor’s knee. “Go do a perimeter check, you little rat.”
Come Hell or High Water Page 5