Smoke and Ashes

by Tanya Huff

  He curled in the air, landed on his right side, heard a bone snap. Since it wasn’t his skull, he was actually okay with that. Arm maybe. No. Higher. Something in his shoulder. It hurt to breathe.

  Then it really hurt as red-and-scaly flipped him over and raised a hand, trio of ten-centimeter claws extended. As the claws swung down for a disemboweling stroke, Jack caught the arm, shoved his gun in the demon’s armpit, and pulled the trigger.

  On a good day, which this wasn’t, Tony had no idea how many bullets Jack’s gun fired, but it seemed to go on for a while. Five, ten minutes. Or maybe his sense of time had gotten scrambled by the fall because there was no way the demon should have waited that long to bring its tail around and smack Jack off his feet.

  On the other hand, its arm flopped uselessly, so who knew?

  One arm flopped. The other was working fine. The first strike removed the front of Tony’s jacket and most of the T-shirt under it. For some reason, losing a second jean jacket in the line of duty really pissed him off, and as the demon threw back its head and screamed in trumph, Tony cocked his right elbow just enough to raise his hand off the floor.

  He’d spoken the first four words of the Powershot when Kate appeared holding two lit flares that she slam-dunked into the demon’s gaping, tooth-lined throat.

  The explosion was unexpected.

  Welcome, but messy.

  “Too fucking gross,” Kate muttered as Jack returned, kicked aside a twitching slab of meat and grabbed Tony’s raised hand. On the way up onto his feet, Tony discovered he’d broken his collarbone.

  “You okay?” Lip curled, Jack flicked a wet, lavender glob off Tony’s shoulder.

  Lavender?

  “Hey! Tony! Are you okay?”

  “Sure.” He was standing. He was breathing. Everything from his eyelashes to the ends of broken bone grating in his chest hurt, but he’d deal with that later. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw something long and green whipping toward him. He ducked before he realized the tentacle was no longer attached.

  Jack hauled him upright again. “Tony?”

  “I’m fine.”

  What he first thought was a disbelieving snort turned out to be the sound of another tentacle being ripped free. Mini-Ryne, his horns dripping dark fluids, sat on top of the remaining lime-green demon, removing tentacles and deftly avoiding the many mouths trying to take a piece out of him. His victory would have been more impressive had the demon not been wrapped in so much rope it looked like it had been swept up by some kind of deep-sea fishing net.

  This tuna is not demon safe. StarKist doesn’t want demons with good taste, they want…

  “Tony! Focus!”

  Right. Focusing.

  “Not the face! Not the face!”

  Mason’s shrieked protest spun Tony around in time to see the actor flung backward by the chitin demon, the sword he still held bent into a tight vee. Roaring a challenge, the demon charged after him. Mason was seconds from losing his face entirely when CB roared a challenge of his own, pounded across the soundstage, and slammed a shoulder into the demon’s middle in a perfect offensive tackle.

  The demon went down.

  Buildings would have gone down.

  Unfortunately, CB went down, too. Worse, the demon bounced back up again dangling ropes like fat yellow streamers. Zev had clearly gotten off a couple more shots with the crossbow and just as clearly no one had been able to take advantage of them. It bent enough for its upper left hand to grab one of CB’s ankles, and when it straightened, CB came off the floor.

  Which pretty much proved that the demon was as strong as it looked.

  The demon swatted Mouse away with its right hands. It seemed obvious that CB’s head was about to be slammed into the concrete.

  Tony jerked out of Jack’s hold, grabbed his right wrist with his left, lifted the right arm to shoulder height then whipped it back and around while screaming out the words for the Powershot. Given the broken collarbone, the screaming was nonnegotiable. As his arm started back down, his right wrist slapped into his left palm, aiming the blast of energy that burned through chitin breastplates.

  CB hit the floor with a solid thud, momentarily obscured by clouds of falling ash drifting back and forth.

  No, wait. That back and forth, that’s me. Swaying, Tony sank to one knee. “Check CB,” he panted as Jack began to bend. He needed time to recover, and if turned out they were going to have to buy that time, they’d need CB’s strength. Fortunately, Jack got the subtext.

  Keeping his breathing shallow and his right arm supported by his knee, he turned just his head toward the only surviving demon. Mini-Ryne seemed to have eaten his way through to the life-sustaining bits and was now clearly sitting on nothing but meat.

  For a long moment, the loudest noise on the soundstage was enthusiastic chewing and swallowing.

  “Did we win?”

  All eyes turned to Mason who was crawling out from behind the upturned chaise lounge. When he looked up and realized he was the center of attention, he tried to pull the sleeve of the camouflage jacket up over his bare arm. “Well?” he demanded petulantly as he realized the sleeve wasn’t going to stay. “Did we win or not?”

  The only demon in the room seemed to be on their side.

  “Yeah.” Tony sucked in as much air as he could, hoping for enough volume to carry over the rising tide of sound. “It looks like we did.” The nail on his baby finger curled up, dropped off, and wafted slowly to the floor.

  Mason was limping on a wrenched knee but unbloodied. Besides innumerable small cuts, CB had broken three fingers on one hand but ordered Jack away to deal with his own injuries. Mouse’s nose had been broken again. Peter, Saleen, and Jack had cracked or broken ribs. Jack also had a split lip and a broken tooth. Amy and Pavin had been bitten. Amy had also got a bit of demon in the eye when Kate had blown it up. Lee, Zev, and Kate had long lines of tiny cuts from teeth in the edge of some of the tentacles. Zev had a line across his back and Kate’s went around one arm. Lee’s leather jacket had protected most of his torso but his pale jeans were marked with spiral blotches of blood.

  “Should’ve worn your motorcycle chaps,” Amy noted from the floor as Zev cut away the leg of her 100 percent organic hemp cargo pants.

  “Good thing he didn’t,” Zev snorted. “We needed Tony’s mind on the job.”

  Tony considered protesting, but it was a fair assessment, so he saved his strength. CB was the only one not coming up in varying shades of purple and black, but that was because CB was the only one too dark for the bruising to show. They were walking wounded, all twelve of them. Emphasis on walking.

  “No one died,” he said. And then because it was important, he said it again. Louder. “No one died.”

  It was almost funny watching the various gazes tracking around the space, checking to make sure.

  Jack pulled his T-shirt down over the binding Kate had just wrapped around his ribs. “Not in here,” he reminded them grimly, “but Geetha told me there were at least seven dead out on the street before this started, plus a shitload of critical injuries. We didn’t avoid a body count, not by a fuck of a long shot.”

  “No one here died.” CB’s tone suggested no one argue this time. “Right now, I think we deserve to celebrate that.”

  Tony was thinking about that lawyer, the one with the weak spot in his office and when he caught Amy’s eye, he knew she was thinking the same. Nothing they could have done about it then. Nothing they could do about it now. He’d just have to keep telling himself that. He didn’t remember sitting down, but since he was on the floor, his back up against the underside of the yellow chaise, he must have. Little bits of broken glass surrounded him like glittering confetti. One of the lights had fallen at some point during the battle; crashed to the floor where every part of it that could shatter, had shattered into the smallest pieces possible. They’d been lucky. If it hadn’t hit so hard, they could have added shards of flying glass to the “things trying to kill us” list.
Tony had no memory of hearing the impact.

  “Now then,” CB stepped over the headless body of the red-scaled demon like it was of no consequence, and swept an imperious gaze around his domain, “we can’t all hit an emergency room at the same time. Ms. Anderson, you’re in the best shape. I want you to drive…” He stared at his crew standing clumped together and came to the obvious decision to save time. “…Peter, Mouse, Saleen, and Pavin to Burnaby General. They’re used to the strange accidents of the entertainment industry, and with all the chaos in the area, there should be no problem.”

  “What about…” Kate jerked a thumb at mini-Ryne, currently pulling a line of linked opalescent bladders from deep inside the body of his meal.

  “I doubt Tony will need all of us if he has to deal with…him.”

  Tony expected a protest, but Kate merely rolled her eyes. “Okay, but I can’t fit five in my car.”

  “We’ll take my van.” Peter went to pull the scraps of his shirt back on, sighed, and tossed it on the floor. He waved those mentioned toward the exit. “It seats seven.”

  Limping heavily, using his piece of pipe as a cane, Saleen fell into step beside the director. “Dude, why do you have a van that seats seven?”

  “Garage band.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.”

  “Hey!” Tony wasn’t sure they heard him—given the distance and the whole about-to-pass-out thing—but all five paused. He needed to say something but wasn’t sure what. Finally, he shrugged his one usable shoulder. “Thanks.”

  Weirdly, Mouse spoke for the group. He moved the dripping handful of flannel shirt away from his nose and grinned, the bloodstained teeth and eyes already swelling shut making him look particularly disreputable. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

  The other four, even Kate, nodded.

  “Hang on,” Amy called out, head cocked so she could glare through her nonwatering eye. “If they leave, who’s going to clean this mess up?”

  They were gone before she finished asking.

  Tony braced himself for her protest, but CB began a second set of instructions before she got the chance. “Zev, take Amy and Lee out to Eagle Ridge. One of the demons came through near there. That gives us a readymade explanation for the bite and the claw marks. If they ask, you were all out there because we’re thinking of shooting at Heritage Mountain.”

  “And if they ask why we waited before coming in?”

  Formal cadences returned with the raised brow. “I think Mr. Nicholas’ talent extends to providing a little attitude.”

  “I could,” Lee admitted, folding his arms. “But I’m not going anywhere until this is over.”

  Amy echoed his action from the floor. “Neither am I.”

  “Hardly seems worth going all the way to Eagle Ridge on my own,” Zev pointed out with a careful shrug.

  “You’re all bleeding,” Jack began, but Amy cut him off.

  “You call this bleeding?” she scoffed, folding her good leg under her and using Zev’s uninjured arm to pull herself to her feet. “I lose more monthly. Besides, you’re bleeding, CB’s bleeding, Tony’s bleeding…”

  He was? He glanced down at his bare chest between the shredded wings of jacket and shirt and blearily focused on the lines of red rolling down from his right shoulder. Oh, yeah.

  “…and you guys aren’t leaving.”

  “There is still a demon to deal with,” CB told her. “Not to mention, as you so helpfully pointed out, the mess.”

  “Wizard!”

  “Whoa!” Amy’s head whipped around so fast her hair separated into bicolored layers. “This one talks?”

  “Yeah.” Tony shifted position slightly and regretted it a lot. “He talks. What do you want?”

  It was hard to tell because of the gore encrusting his face—plus Tony’s vision was a bit wonky—but mini-Ryne looked worried. “Demongate?”

  “Safe.” Frowning hurt, too. Quel surprise. Not. “At least I think…” He turned to CB who took three long strides and dropped to one knee beside him.

  “If you cannot send this creature back, Mr. Foster…”

  “I can do it.” It might be the last thing he did for a while, but he figured he had enough left in him to draw four final runes. Let’s hear it for endorphins. Yay endorphins. As long as he didn’t have to hurry. Or, apparently, stand up. “Uh, Boss? Little help.”

  The big difference between being lifted onto his feet by Henry and CB was, well, about a foot vertically and at least that much horizontally. CB was a big guy and Henry was…

  Henry wasn’t.

  That meant something. Tony frowned. Winced.

  “Ms. Burnett is outside in my car.” CB’s voice was a low growl against his ear. “Parked up against that outside wall…” He nodded across the soundstage to the wall closest to the gate. “…she is close enough to the gate and to you that her own metaphysical signature should be masked but able to make a fast getaway should we have lost this fight. I doubt very much that any demon would have been able to catch her.”

  “Drove the Jag today?”

  “I did.”

  It seemed like a plan. Actually, it seemed like a good plan, especially the masked signature part. “Have you been reading up on this shit?”

  “Mr. Groves has suggested a number of very helpful publications.”

  “I’ll bet. And she’s going to stay out there…?”

  “Until one of us goes and gets her.”

  “Demongate.”

  “I told you, she’s safe.” Hang on. That wasn’t a question. The first time the demon had asked. This time…

  “Would whoever’s been calling for me, please shut the fuck up? I’m not deaf, and I’m moving as fast as I can.”

  Most of his weight still on CB’s arm, Tony turned in time to see Leah stop walking and raise a hand to her nose. The other hand was tucked under her clothes, pressed up against the skin of her stomach.

  “Oh, wow. It stinks in here. Smells like offal and peppermint with the faintest hint of sulfur.” She frowned over her hand at Tony. “You had to ash one?”

  “Yeah. Leah…”

  “Demongate!”

  “What the hell?” She jumped back, then stopped and blushed. “Right. This is the one that’s here to help and…”

  When she stopped talking, Tony turned and stared at mini-Ryne. Standing on the partially eaten demon, he was, in turn, staring at Leah. His eyes were black, lid to lid, and even six meters away, he could see his reflection burning in them.

  A heartbeat earlier, Tony would have denied any ability to move without help, but he pulled free of CB’s hold before Leah’s lips started to form the question and was standing in front of her before she asked it.

  “Lord?”

  “Boss!” Even as a physical barrier, he sucked right now, but when Leah tried to go through him instead of around, it gave CB enough time to grab her arms and hold her in place. Tony was pretty sure he was still standing, not exactly upright, not unless the studio had acquired a recent lean to the left, but standing. As he tried to straighten, he caught sight of Jack beginning to move.

  Circle of yellow rope dropped around the demon’s shoulders.

  Jack in the air, then crumpled motionless against the base of the wall.

  Lee on one knee, one of the demon’s arms wrapped round his throat.

  Amy’s scream lingering.

  And the tableau froze.

  It happened just that fast.

  Ryne Cyratane smiled, now clearly in control of mini-Ryne’s body, his attributes no longer sheathed. “I think we should talk trade, Wizard.”

  “Trade?” It took a moment to sink in. Finally, he dragged his gaze away from the six inches of detached claw protruding from Jack’s chest and shoved his reaction behind old familiar shields. “You want to trade Lee for Leah?”

  The demon looked confused. “Who?”

  “Her!” Tony jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Ah. That is not the name I knew he
r by when she was my handmaiden, my priestess, my love.”

  Leah leaned toward him, her arms angling back in CB’s hold. “I am not your love!” she spat, tossing a curl of hair back off her face.

  “Am I not?” He didn’t seem too upset by her reaction. “Do you not remember…”

  “I remember that you slaughtered my entire village!”

  Hang on. “You said you were over that,” Tony reminded her.

  Her shrug was a bit truncated given her position. “Yeah, well, you were right. Maybe I still have some issues.”

  “So if CB lets you go?”

  “I’d be in his arms in a heartbeat.” No need to define whose arms. “Sorry. It’s a built-in response, and guess who built it in.”

  The Arjh Lord cleared his throat. Tony turned to see Lee fighting for air, clawing at the arm around his throat. “You don’t seem to be taking this seriously, Wizard.”

  “Stop it!”

  He loosened his grip just enough for Lee to draw in a painful sounding breath. And then another. Tony breathed in with him. In. Out. Finally, clutching the demon’s arm with white-knuckled fingers, Lee wheezed, “I’m so fucking tired of being the designated damsel in distress.”

  “Yes.” Ryne Cyratane smiled down at him. “I can understand that.” Even while wearing a body not his own, there was such understanding in his voice that Tony had a sudden epiphany about how he’d convinced Leah’s people to worship him. Lee actually looked comforted.

  “Okay.” Tony cleared his throat and tried to sound a little more like he was in charge of the situation. “If we trade—Lee for your ex-handmaiden—then you’ll kill Leah the moment you get her and the Demongate will open and you’ll be here in the flesh, not just riding in the flesh of one of your arjh.”

  “Yes.”

  Tony fought the urge to preen under the Arjh Lord’s approval. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You used Sye Mckaseeh as camouflage—while we were concentrating on her, you could slip in unnoticed.”

  “No. I took advantage of the situation when I had time enough to mark this body as a vessel rather than merely as mine.”

  “A spur of the moment kind of thing, then? With the added benefit of pissing off the ex?”