I should have left it at that, but for all the people who didn’t have a voice and all the souls he’d destroyed, I couldn’t let him walk away. Remembering Jack’s words, I asked, “Did you get her name?”
He stopped. His shoulders tightened. Slowly, he turned his head, showing me his handsome profile and twitching cheek. “What did you say?”
He’d heard me. “I asked you if you got the demon’s name… before you killed her. It’s a simple question.”
A shrug. A flick of the hand. “A worthless thing like that? Why would I care for its name?”
Jack’s words had affected him, and for the life of me, I didn’t understand why. What did it matter if the overseer had asked the demon’s name?
He left the Hall, his heels striking the marble floor like the second hand on the Hall’s ticking clock. Looking past the hanging demon body, I searched the landing for Jack, but others had gathered there to gawk at the grotesque display.
This wasn’t over.
The overseer would continue to assert what he thought was his authority under my roof, unless I could stop him. Jack knew what screws to tighten, but how could he? It was time I paid more attention to Just Jack—right after I’d cleared up this mess.
An elven couple glided across the floor, the pair wrapped in flowing pastel-colored gowns. They appeared mild and shy, with their big eyes and quiet nature. Like most guests here, it was a lie, camouflage, or even armor, just like mine. Only the vampires and the permanent resident of Room 3B frightened me more, but these two owed me.
“Your problem?” the female asked, gesturing at the dangling body. Her name was Aoife. I’d seen her rip the face off a lycanthrope using just her nails. I’d seen her sob as she’d handed her child to me, so the vampireguard wouldn’t take it away. She’d never asked what had happened to her child. She didn’t need to. It was better that way.
I nodded at the demon carcass. “Yes.”
She swallowed and glanced at her partner—Connaught. He raised his pale eyebrow in silent comment, either at my daring to ask anything of them or at having his partner perform in public. But he wouldn’t object. For all their manipulation and lies, elves adored their children. Knowing theirs was safe was priceless.
Aoife clapped her hands. A glittering cloud drifted in through the open platform doors, as beautiful and surreal as a rainbow amidst a rainstorm. I’d never seen a storm of pixies before, but I’d heard other Dark Ones call them piranha with wings. The cloud wrapped around the demon and devoured it within fifteen seconds. The delicate cloud drifted out the way it had come, and I reminded my heart to beat again.
Aoife smiled her most pleasant smile. Pixies ate the living too. “Our debt is settled, Miss Aris.”
A nod and the deed was done. The pair melted back into the crowd, leaving me to examine if anything was left of Ghost’s macabre display. Even the blood had vanished. It was a shame he hadn’t stuck round to admire the clean-up; he might have learned a thing or two.
With that done, I had the demon ambassador to find and a small war to avert, all in the name of reluctant peace.
* * *
The sun had just set when I stood outside Room 19 and rapped on the door. It was going to be a long night, but I needed to control the fallout of the overseer’s actions.
The door creaked open. Sweet floral scents swept into the hallway. I’d only ever been inside the demon ambassador’s room once, and that hadn’t been by choice. Gerome had found me days later, wandering the halls, my memory in pieces. I’d remembered enough to tell him a single name, and I’d learned enough to know I never wanted to return.
Pushing open the door revealed a dense grove of tropical plants. Water dripped onto shiny banana leaves and flowed in rivulets alongside a muddy path beckoning me deeper inside. Where it went, I tried not to think on. It wasn’t always like this in Room 19. I’d knocked once and opened the door to an old-world-style high-rise with a sparkling cityscape view through windows that didn’t exist. I hadn’t entered then, despite the view singing to something of the old world in my human soul. I’d asked Gerome how such a thing were possible, and he’d told me it was best not to think too long on it, lest the evasive answers drive me crazy.
Nobody had ever explicitly said the station was good or evil. It was poised between the two, which was why it wouldn’t fling open the overseer’s shutters during the day and burn him to a crisp. Everyone was “safe” here, including the demon I was about to meet.
I stepped across the threshold. Sticky heat clung to my face and tried to soak through my dress. A few more steps and a bright pink flower bloomed alongside the path ahead. It looked friendly enough. But knowing its owner, it was safer to assume everything here would try to kill me eventually.
A click sounded behind me: the door closing.
Wonderful.
I had my key. I could leave at any time. But I didn’t run from monsters.
The path tangled its way through the thick undergrowth. Branches clawed at my hair and dress. I glanced back. The path had grown, hadn’t it? I’d lost sight of the door. This was far enough. I planted my boots and breathed in, tasting warmth and wetness. A dribble of perspiration trickled between the blades hidden at my lower back.
I didn’t need to wait long.
Some demons could appear human for short periods, and it was said the ambassador sometimes liked to walk the platform unnoticed. The demon that emerged from the greenery blended in perfectly with it. She wasn’t human now, although she had a humanoid design about her. The bone arches of two vast wings towered over her shoulders. Her wings were clamped shut. Horns spiraled from her head. Her skin was all black, with a glittery shimmer that looked like dust. The demon ambassador, Lilith, was beautiful.
“Why do you not bring me the gift of the overseer’s head?” Her voice scratched at parts of my brain designed to trigger me to flee.
So, she’d heard about the death. I shouldn’t have been surprised. News traveled faster among demons than any of the other Dark races.
She moved like liquid, her hips and breasts carrying a seductive sway. I blinked myself from her thrall and met her stunning eyes. Dark slits cut through luminous green irises, like cat’s eyes. “The same reason you haven’t killed him yet.”
I wasn’t sure if she could kill him, but she’d certainly thought of it.
Her double eyelids flicked. “He charmed Sonel outside the station boundaries. She was young and easily manipulated. Had I known the overseer was arriving, I could have prepared her.” She held a glass jar, and inside the jar, a colorful butterfly flitted and jerked, struggling to understand its invisible prison. She admired the poor creature, turning the jar this way and that. I’d seen her collect others in similar jars, but rarely saw the same butterfly twice.
“His arrival was unannounced.”
Wedging the jar in a tangle of tree branches, she then slunk behind me, moving silently through the sweating plants, and circled to my left, eyeing me like I was a piece of fine meat strung up on a hook. Fat leaves stroked over her naked thighs and hips. Her skin glistened. “Why is he here? What does he want?”
“He has cargo arriving. He’ll be gone after that—two nights from now.”
“And this cargo is special to him, else why accompany it himself?”
Demons didn’t abuse human children the same way vampires did, but they weren’t known for their kindness either. A trainload of orphans was a valuable prize for any number of Dark Ones and valuable leverage should a demon want to bargain with vampires.
“Do you know what this cargo is?” she asked.
“Yes.” Liars knew lies when they heard them.
When she smiled, her green eyes glowed red at their edges. “Of course you do, little Lynher.”
I expected her to ask what the carriages carried, but she tapped a claw-like nail against her chin and breathed in instead. Her wings rustled, flexing outward a few inches before sealing closed again. I’d never seen her fully open them. She could
ask about the carriages, but she knew I wouldn’t tell her. We had something of a mutual understanding: I ran the Night Station and didn’t interfere with her business, and she made sure her demons behaved while on the premises. As I’d said to Ghost, getting along made everyone’s lives much easier.
“I want to see this overseer for myself. I think it’s time I socialized.” She eyed my clothing. “Is that garment the current style?”
“Purple and black are Night Station colors, but otherwise, silk and lace are generally considered appropriate.”
“Hm.” A twist of her lips and she said, “I’m sure I can rustle up something suitable.” She sensed my reticence and approached my side, leaning in intimately close. Her tropical sweetness tingled on my lips and tongue. “Darling, no vampire can charm me. They were once ants scurrying around my feet. The sands of time will shift again, and it will be his carcass hanging from the chandelier.”
It seemed our thoughts were aligned, which perhaps said more about me than it did her. I didn’t doubt her conviction, but when a creature as powerful as Ghost faced the oldest known demon to still walk this earth, I’d be the one picking up the pieces.
Chapter 6
Night
I might be human, but I wasn’t helpless. I had other weapons at my disposal besides the obvious, and I planned to wield them to bring down Ghost and save his high-value cargo. Kensey was working on securing futures for the cargo, once I’d ferried them safely through the night. I just had to arrange for Overseer Ghost to be elsewhere when his train arrived.
Gerome had always told me the Night Station’s cogs were sometimes like a huge game of chess. Secrets and favors were traded like currency. As long as I was thinking several moves ahead than those around me, the cogs would keep turning and the game would go on. It sounded easy. It wasn’t.
One cog who had me stumped was Jack. He was not some unassuming fool who had stumbled upon my library office, but he was trying very hard to be. He had an interest in Ghost, and that made him interesting to me.
Etienne was dealing with the identical Corvus sisters as I approached the sweeping half-moon reception desk. Staff milled about behind, dealing with the minute-by-minute requests of our demanding guests. Ghost would summon me soon, and we’d start our dance all over again, but before he did, I needed to know more about the elusive Jack.
The leather-bound guest book noted every single station resident, spanning the station’s fifty-year history. As a child, I’d sit with the huge book cradled on my crossed legs while Gerome stood at this very desk. My memory conjured him now, politely greeting the next waiting guest. He’d had a natural charm and a way with words that few could resist. Sometimes, I wondered if the flickers of his ghost were real. I’d lost count of how many times since his death I’d known he was behind me, his hand gently guiding my shoulder, only to turn and find myself alone.
I blinked the memory clean. Pushing aside the hollow sense of grief, I skimmed down the recent entries in the book. Human hands didn’t write the swirling, elaborate names. Each name appeared as soon as a guest stepped across the white line, and there were thousands of entries.
As I read, the Corvus sisters—ravens in their natural form but human now—chittered about the evening’s entertainment. They disliked violins and wanted all string instruments removed from the show. Etienne politely told them we couldn’t change the entertainment to suit every individual’s need or we wouldn’t have any musicians left. They then proceeded to complain about a missing boot and some other various items. I allowed myself a small smile at my assistant’s polite wrangling and flicked the book’s pages, running a finger over each entry.
The station had seen a large influx of visitors these past few days, and more appeared to be staying longer too. Perhaps Kensey’s contacts were on to something and there was unrest on the outside? As the only sanctuary and neutral ground on the east coast of America, this station was a desirable breathing space for many. But such things were out of my control. My world was inside the station walls, not beyond them.
Race wasn’t noted in the book, but I recognized the style of some names as belonging to the Dark Ones from all over the world and its realms.
Ghost’s name was on the list, simply written as Ghost. Perhaps that was his real name? Some things even the station didn’t know or chose not to show me. Predictably, Just Jack and his average-sounding name wasn’t listed among the new arrivals. I was fairly certain he’d arrived on the same train as Ghost. I’d first seen him on the platform, blocking my path, but that only narrowed him down to one among eighty-three new entries. It appeared I’d have to wait until he showed his face again to get my answers.
“Goodness, they are hard work,” Etienne mumbled. He’d sent the sisters off, apparently happy, although it was difficult to tell by their breathless chatter.
“You did well.”
He smiled shyly. “Thank you. I… I’ve been trying to remember everything Kens—”
“We don’t say that name here.” Ice spilled into my veins. I kept my smile but sharpened it. “Remember?”
His grin spluttered and died. I almost felt sorry for him. He’d been doing so well, but if he mentioned my brother’s name, I’d send him away before the next shift. Kensey’s name was not to be uttered at night. Ever. As far as Etienne was concerned, Kensey did not exist.
He cast his gaze downward. If he truly cared for my brother, he needed to get his shit together before he got us all killed.
“I was um… I was hoping I might visit”—he frowned—“him?”
The question was ridiculous. Night staff and day staff did not mix. Only I had the key that opened the door between the two. The station’s secrets were too vulnerable to be exposed to anyone else. Etienne knew this. He shouldn’t have asked, but I understood why he had. Kensey hadn’t told me in so many words, but I’d seen the way my brother acted all stoic when he mentioned Etienne’s name. He forgot I could read him as easily as a book from my library shelves.
“I asked you to discover more on Jack. Did you find his name in the register?” I asked, ignoring his request.
He hesitated, cleared his throat, collected his professionalism, and peered at the open page. “No, but I did find something interesting.” Turning the page forward again, he tapped Ghost’s name. “Are there often errors like that?”
I blinked at the page. I’d been so consumed looking for Jack that I’d missed the error beside Ghost’s name. The entry should have had him down as staying in the grand suite, but he was listed as staying in Room A4, much farther down the wing, in a small room reserved for standard guests. “No… the station doesn’t make mistakes,” I muttered.
“Oh, I thought… I saw some pages were missing and I thought errors were normal.”
“The missing pages have been gone a long time…” I scanned up the register for any mention of who was staying in the grand suite, and there it was: Felipe Berger, written in beautiful swirling ink. So, was “Felipe Berger” Ghost’s real name, or was the vampire in the grand suite not Ghost at all, and whoever was staying in A4 was the real Ghost, as the book suggested?
There was only one way to know.
I started out from behind the desk.
“Ma’am… Lynher?” I turned and raised an eyebrow at the use of my name.
“I’m sorry…” Etienne began, worrying himself into blushing. “Mon Dieu, this is so much harder than I thought. I don’t know if I can do this. I’m sorry. I try—”
I lifted my hand, cutting off his nervous ramblings. “Etienne…” Returning to the desk, I looked the man in the eye. He was young. We all were. Nobody could be fully prepared for Night. Kensey himself didn’t know this life, not really. He knew what I told him, but he’d never lived it. Etienne was woefully underprepared. “You’re here because the station wants you here. That is no small thing. Now, get back to work. We have guests to accommodate.”
“Just… Miss Lynher, please, if you’re going to Room Four A… be careful
?”
Careful? I smiled, which probably wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. I wasn’t Kensey. Careful wouldn’t get anything done here. Careful would see me eaten. Day was the time for careful; night was the time for calculated recklessness. “If the overseer summons me, distract him.”
Etienne’s frown tightened. “Distract the overseer?”
“I won’t be long…” I turned and started down the inner hallway, heading toward whoever the station register had deemed was really Ghost. While there, I hoped to discover why an imposter might be staying in the grand suite, taking it upon himself to kill succubus and drape them from my chandeliers.
* * *
The door to Room A4 looked like all the others in this wing, its deep mahogany wood warm to the touch. Nothing obvious suggested the most feared vampire overseer might be staying inside.
I eased my skeleton key into the lock like I had every right to enter a guest’s room and slipped inside before any of the numerous guests noticed who I was. My dress and reputation often made subtlety difficult.
Thick darkness inside the room tried to swallow me down before I could get a good look at anything. I clicked my fingers, signaling the station to light the gas lamps. Warmth flooded in and over a naked body lying facedown on the bed. Very obviously male. He was either out cold or dead. He wasn’t moving. Maybe Ghost had killed him?
This was… unexpected.
I’d dealt with dead bodies. Hours earlier, I’d had the elves dissolve a demon. But this felt different. My skin crawled, like whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to be seen. Like I’d stumbled upon something bigger than me, bigger than the station, even. I couldn’t quantify this feeling. It made no sense. The weight of wrongness crawled over my skin and tried to push me back out the door, as though the station had also realized its mistake and wanted me gone.
The man’s body was a map of black ink from his ankles, up his powerful thighs, over his rounded ass, and across his back. The swirls held no discernable pattern, like he’d been wrapped in brambles and his skin had absorbed their rope-like embrace.
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