Strangers in the Night

by E M. Jeanmougin

  “Only if you play nice with the other monsters,” said Shane dryly, and shoved the jacket underneath the dashboard. The vampire was on Jasper’s other side. He gave them both a quick once-over with only his eyes, then flashed Shane a thumbs-up. Shane nodded towards Ralphy, and Ralphy pulled away from the curb.

  Jasper wondered where they were going and what exactly would happen when they got there. He had a rough idea. Shane said he was valuable. In some ways, he wondered why no one else had ever tried to use him this way before. It had never been a problem at the agency, but he had had his father and the power of the other Hunters behind him. It had never fully occurred to him how important that connection was. But then, it had also never occurred to him that he didn’t really want to be a Hunter. It had already been decided.

  The car felt like it was moving too quickly through the streets, making him dizzy. He tried to focus on coming up with a plan, but without knowing where he was going and what would happen, he didn’t have much to work with. Crimson would get Al back safe, that was the most important thing. Jasper would figure something out.

  He focused instead on Crimson’s hand on his wrist. He could feel his own heart pounding in his chest and knew the werespider would be able to feel it in his pulse. Jasper turned his wrist so that they were holding hands, gripping his fingers with what was supposed to be assurance, but felt more like desperation.

  Jasper was surprised to see they were heading towards Manhattan and, it appeared to him, directly for St. James. He couldn’t make sense of this information and was on the cusp of asking where they were going when Crimson turned his head and spoke in a soft whisper just for him: “We’re going to the Onyx Eclipse.”

  He nodded to show he understood.

  “No secrets, lovebirds,” said the vampire.

  Jasper ground his teeth together, sure that his eyes were showing white, and carefully removed his hand from Crimson’s, feeling colder without the touch. He balled his hands into fists on his knees instead.

  They pulled up to what looked like a high-rise office building, not unlike many of the buildings around here. Jasper’s stomach twisted as they got out of the car, the vampire so close behind him that he imagined he could hear his breathing, though that wasn’t true. Jasper’s mind was too loud for that, filled with his own breath and heartbeat and worry. He looked at the building, feeling the aggressive pushback of the glamor. Even with all his training, he found it difficult to pull back the layers of illusion to reveal the tall, dark building underneath. It was black, which fit its name, and outfitted in a pseudo art deco style he associated with the novel The Great Gatsby. It was at least fifty stories high, and without the wards, it was pulsing with enough energy to make him feel sick. Jasper took his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit one, but only began to draw back on it before it was plucked from his mouth.

  “No smokin’ in the Onyx, bright eyes,” said Shane, sucking back on the smoke. Jasper would have punched him were it not for Alcander.

  They went inside.

  The lobby was wide and open, with lavishly high ceilings and a swirled black-and-white tiled floor. At first Jasper thought it was just because he was feeling so disoriented from the night’s events and pushing through the glamor, but he realized, no, the floor really was moving, the black-and-white swirls twisting together and coming apart like a living Rorschach test. Why anyone would find that at all appealing was beyond him. Focusing on a point on the wall ahead of them, he tried his best to ignore it.

  They walked past the large black and gold reception desk, behind which stood several demons who were varying stages of passing, some looking perfectly human, some looking anything but, and went to the elevator. Crimson, looking just about ready to burst into legs, said nothing, but Jasper was sure Shane knew of his distaste for small spaces and was simply being cruel.

  The lower lobby was populated with all manner of monsters, many of them holding or carrying objects. The door to the theater beyond was slightly cracked. Presently a voice called out, “Next on the block, lot 115, the Scroll of Renewal.” The usher opened the door, and a skinny man slung a long canister not much smaller than he over his shoulder and went trotting through with an equally skinny Siamese cat bouncing along at his heel.

  Jasper could feel the demons on the other side of the door, more powerfully now than he had when they pulled up beside the building. He felt like he would be sick. “Okay,” he said. “We’re here. Tell Crimson where Alcander is.”

  “Not ’til they call our lot,” said Shane.

  “That wasn’t the deal,” said Jasper.

  “Awfully eager t’part ways,” said Shane. “Go on an’ say your goodbyes. I love a good drama.”

  If Shane had not said it the way he had, Jasper was sure he would have hugged the werespider as tightly as he could have, but he found himself not wanting to give the incubus the satisfaction. Jasper held out his hand to shake instead. “Take good care of Alcander and Max, alright?”

  Crimson stared down at his hand for a long moment then took it in his. “I’m going to find you.”

  Jasper was doubtful, though he believed the other would certainly try. “Just don’t do anything stupid, Crims.”

  Something sparked behind Crimson’s eyes. “No promises.” He brought Jasper’s hand to his lips and laid a quick kiss on his knuckles. “Good luck.”

  “Bye,” breathed Jasper, and Crimson let go. His hand tingled where he’d touched him.

  Through the open door, an auctioneer cried, “SOLD!”

  Crimson stalked over to Shane. “Give me my shit.”

  Shane had his jacket draped over his arm. He held it out to him and Crimson snatched it away with a growl. Shane barely seemed to notice. He took out his wallet and removed a small business card. “Go to this address; take the elevator down to the basement. I’ll let Rick know you’re on yer way. And don’t be loiterin’ around here tryin’ t’cause trouble. You don’t make it there in the next twenty minutes, he’ll let the vampire drop anyhow.”

  “It’s on the other side of the city,” said Crimson.

  “Guess ya better run fast, huh?”

  Crimson looked fleetingly at Jasper.

  “Go,” said Jasper. This whole situation was bad enough without the risk of it having all been for naught. Of course, if Crimson made it in time or if he didn’t, Jasper supposed he would never know. Ripping the card out of Shane’s hand, Crimson threw the jacket on and spun away, gone from the room almost more quickly than the eye could follow at close range.

  When he was gone, Shane took out his cell phone and sent a quick text message. As he was putting the phone back in his pocket, the voice of the auctioneer called for lot 116. “That’s us,” said Shane. He twirled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and, keeping Crimson’s gun aimed carefully at Jasper, used the barrel to make a little “turn around” gesture. “Hands behind your back.”

  Jasper was liking his odds less and less, but with the vampire and the empath on either side of him, and with Shane pointing a gun right at his head, he didn’t really see a whole lot of other options. He hesitated, still.

  “You’ll be worth a lot less with a couple’a bullets in you, but I reckon I could still make a mint.”

  That decided him. He put his hands behind his back, and Shane tossed the cuffs to Ralphy. He snapped one to his wrist, strung the chain and cuff through his belt, and then snapped the other into place. He gave him one last quick pat down, then nodded to Shane, who looped an arm through Jasper’s and grinned.

  “Showtime.”

  Jasper thought about running but didn’t think he’d get very far surrounded by so many demons and being unarmed and in cuffs on top of that. He had to hope for another, better opportunity later. If he didn’t have hope, he wouldn’t be able to walk through the theater doors and onto the block. If he didn’t hope, he would only despair, and he would not let the incubus see him scared.

  He wasn’t prepared to see the theater. He was sure that under
much different circumstances he might have thought the place to be beautiful. The high golden dome of the ceiling did not give away in any way the fact that the theater was underground, nor did the balconies draped in red and gold fixtures. All the seats looked toward a wide stage of highly polished dark wood, dressed on either side with lush curtains in a red so deep and dark they looked black. It was a place more than suited for Macbeth or Hamlet, but that was not its purpose this evening.

  Most of the dark-upholstered chairs were filled, especially those nearer to the stage, with many manner of demons. The twisting in his stomach was almost unbearable, and he had to fight hard to keep himself from doubling over in pain or throwing up. Bodies turned to watch them come down the aisle, and Jasper fixed his eyes on one particular fold in the dark red curtains, willing his features into a look of what he hoped was passive indifference, or at least an expression that did not betray the terror he tasted in the back of his throat. He’d think of some way out of this. Crimson said he would find him.

  Curious chittering followed them as he climbed the short set of stairs to the stage with numb legs. Shane steered him to the middle, turning him to face the crowd, and Jasper jerked his arm out of his grip. Now facing the crowd, it was harder to ignore. Jasper let himself look at them for a moment, his hands balled into tight fists behind his back, nails digging into his palms. They were a mix of human looking and demonic, some dressed smartly in expensive business wear, others looking ratty in aged robes. He caught the eye of a tall man in white snakeskin, a baby dragon cradled in his arms like a cat, and looked immediately away, up towards the domed ceiling.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Shane’s voice rang out from beside him, his twang more polished than usual, “people of varying degrees of gender or lack thereof, my name is Shane Robinson, and I have a treat for you. This gorgeous specimen beside me is one of a kind. A half white wraith, from off world. He is immune to most, if not all, demon persuasions, from vampire hypnosis to werespider pheromones to incubus venom.”

  Shane’s voice carried on, announcing his superior strength and speed. Jasper tried not to listen to him. His eyes had found, in the high hidden corners of the room, golden statues of child-sized cherubs. And then he noticed the fangs and the wings that he had at first thought were feathered but were actually leathery and sharp at the points. Fucking demons.

  Shane smacked his arm, drawing his attention. “Show ’em the eyes.”

  Jasper glanced back at the crowd and then away again. “I can’t just make it happen,” he explained tightly. “I can’t control it.”

  “Alright,” Shane said and then stepped in front of Jasper and slapped him hard across his face. He hadn’t been expecting it, and the force jerked his head to one side. At first all he felt was the burning sting Shane’s hand had left behind, but after his brain caught up to what had happened, he felt something else: pissed. His arms strained against the cuffs and he all but growled at him as Shane took several steps backwards, out of range. Any satisfaction of seeing the incubus scared quickly evaporated when he turned back to the audience with a gesture. “See? It happens whenever he gets upset, and good news for his new master, he’s very sensitive. I open the bidding at five million.”

  Jasper wanted to laugh at the number, but the reality of the truth in front of him kept him sober and queasy. Several of the demons and spellcasters began throwing out bids, the numbers steadily growing higher. Beside him, Shane smiled to himself, pleased as punch, and rolled his hand in a “hurry-up” motion. Magical items popped up beside the numbers. Persian flying carpets. Cloaks of invisibility. Magical gemstones and ancient amulets of protection. How on earth Shane could keep track of them was impossible to imagine.

  Jasper became increasingly unsure whether or not his legs would keep holding him up. His gaze cast around again, looking for an escape route. The aisle was too long and narrow, the audience too numerous to be realistic. Off to the left side of the stage stood auctioneers and hotel staff, and on the other, Shane’s hangers-on. There were only two of them, the vampire and the empath. Jasper wondered wildly if he’d be able to get by them, handcuffed and unarmed. He strained his arms again, feeling the cuffs dig into his wrists.

  A deep, booming voice cut through his panic. Up until this point he was sure its owner hadn’t spoken, and now that they had, the crowd grew quiet, some of them turning in their seats to look at the man it belonged to while others kept their gaze pointedly away.

  Jasper found him easily enough, sitting in the middle distance and off to one side. He was a large man, fitted for his thunderous voice; though Jasper could not tell how tall he was sitting down, he thought he would be taller even than Crimson. His shoulders seemed impossibly wide, his arms as thick as tree trunks, wrapped in a dark silk suit just a few shades darker than his deep brown skin. His yellow eyes stood out, cutting easily to Jasper. They were slitted like a cat’s, predatory and hungry. Other men with similar complexions and eyes sat around him, but even at a glance they were small and unimportant next to him. He radiated power.

  Shane waited a short moment, perhaps hoping someone would outbid the cat-eyed demon, and then clapped his hands together once when it became obvious no one would. The ringing in Jasper’s ears prevented him from hearing what Shane said (everything sounded and felt very far away), but it was obvious the auction was over. Shane grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side of the stage where his lackeys were hanging about. The man who had bought him stood up, straightened his suit, and started towards them.

  “Look alive, bright eyes,” said Shane, tapping the same cheek he had slapped. “We just made a helluva deal.” Laughter was bubbling within his voice, and his eyes sparkled with a joyous light.

  “Touch me again and I’ll rip your throat out.” Jasper tried to sound as vicious as Crimson could but didn’t quite get there. The laughter that had been growing in Shane burst out. Jasper pulled so hard against his cuffs that he felt blood begin to drip down his wrist.

  “Let us get this out of the way.” The voice was even deeper when it rang out directly behind Jasper, shaking in his chest. He jumped at the sound, turning quickly so that his back wasn’t facing him. Up close, the demon was even larger than anticipated. If he wanted to, he could crush Jasper’s head between his massive hands with ease. His yellow eyes looked over Jasper quickly and with satisfaction, and then went to Shane.

  He snapped his fingers, and one of the other men, this one with golden-green cat eyes, stepped forward with a large briefcase and handed it to Shane’s vampire companion. The vampire opened it and flipped through the bundles of cash before nodding to Shane and snapping it shut. A different cat-eyed demon and a second case, this one larger and boxier, made of light brown leather worn around the edges. Shane was impatient as the demon dug around inside it and began removing items: a necklace made of delicate gold chain link, several canisters covered in intricate runes, a small silver-backed hand mirror. There was more in the case, much more than its size would suggest.

  After all the items were bundled and in Shane’s empath’s arms, the incubus took the tiny handcuff key and tried to hand it to the large demon. One of his lackeys took it instead, careful not to touch his skin to Shane’s.

  “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Mr. Folami.” Neither offered their hands to shake. He nodded to the vampire, who passed over another small box. “Personal effects come with the purchase. Think that makes us about square. Hate to take the money and run, but we gotta jet.” He turned his attention to Jasper, and although Jazz would like nothing more than to slam Shane’s head onto the floor until it was nothing but a puddle of shattered bone and brain matter, he found he didn’t want him to go, didn’t want him to leave him with the cat demon Folami and his crew. “Jazzy,” said Shane, almost tenderly. He grinned, slapping his shoulder. “Good luck.”

  Jasper wasn’t gifted at reading magic levels, but he still felt the wave of power come off Folami, hot and dry like burning electricity. “Do not touch my propert
y, Mr. Robinson.”

  Shane flinched. “Right. Sorry.” Without any more quips, Shane nodded to his companions and then to Folami and then was gone, taking his winnings with him.

  A warm hand wrapped around his upper arm, enveloping most of his arm between the elbow and shoulder. Despite his size, Folami moved quickly and quietly. Jasper tried to step back and jerk his arm out of his grasp, but the demon held him firmly. “Do not be afraid,” said the demon. “I will not harm you.”

  A bright surge of energy flowed through him, and Jasper managed to break from his hold. “Stay away from me.”

  Folami smiled like one might smile at a disobedient puppy. He clicked his tongue and two of his goons stepped forward to grapple Jasper’s shoulders. It was hard to fight back with his hands behind his back. Jasper strained his arms and felt, along with the blood falling fresh from the wounds, a slight give in the chain. If he could just get his hands free…

  Folami covered the short distance between them effortlessly and raised his massive hand to Jasper’s face, brushing his temple. His pointed black nails tickled his face, and he felt a wave of magic flow through him. “Rest,” purred Folami, and Jasper couldn’t fight it. His body slumped, suddenly heavy. Darkness rushed up to meet him and there was no more.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  —

  Here’s Lookin’ at You, Kid

  The office building Shane directed him to was all the way in the East Village. Crimson could not run as fast as a car at top speed, but in Manhattan he would have considered himself lucky to get a car up over forty miles per hour, and even at that he’d risk killing a pedestrian or two. It would be more expedient to cut out the roads entirely and go on foot. There was no time for him to consider other options. He scaled the nearest building in leaps and bounds and then ran over the rooftops at a dead sprint.

  He had known this city for hundreds of years, watched as it had grown from a tiny little settlement on the banks of the Hudson River to a gargantuan urban sprawl. The buildings just kept getting taller and taller, and the population just kept swelling, like a balloon about to burst. There were so many people, in fact, that any one person amongst them became invisible—a nondescript tree in a forest, a stone amid a pile of rocks, a blade of grass in a pasture. There were probably thousands of eyes staring out windows, looking right at him, but at such a height and distance, and in the dark, he appeared no more conspicuous than a small spider crawling along at the top of a shelf.