by Anthology
I started to walk away, then stopped. “You touch her bike?”
He hesitated, and I knew he’d tried to. I’d locked it up good, though, before I’d caught the bus out to Lucas Johnson’s shit-hole of a house.
“Never mind,” I said.
“I’m gonna get someone to cut the chain off,” he said. “Make a new key. Ain’t no sense it sitting back in that alley with no one to ride it.”
“You’re right, Jeremy,” I said. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
I took two bites of candy as I crossed the store, knowing he was watching me. Red stickers plastered the back door, warning that alarms would sound if I opened. I pushed. No alarms. So much for truth in advertising.
My decades-old Triumph Tiger was still parked there, a heavy chain around her. I didn’t usually chain the bike up, but I also didn’t usually keep it parked behind Jeremy’s place. I’d locked it up tight Saturday night, though. Whether out of extra caution or premonition I didn’t know. I was glad of my forethought now, though, and I reached under the fender for the magnetic metal box. It held two keys, and I had the chain off the bike in no time.
I straddled the machine, the bike warm and familiar between my legs. I’d just slipped the key in the ignition when Jeremy peered out the back door and into the alley. “Ain’t your bike,” he said.
“It is now. You got a problem with that?”
He considered it, probably weighing how much he could sell the bike for against the long-term income stream on his counterfeit DVD operation. I turn him in for that, and the door shuts on his little retirement fund.
Jeremy might be slow, but he’s not stupid, and after a few moments of staring and pondering, he nodded, then disappeared back inside, the door slamming shut behind him.
I revved the throttle, relishing the sweet purr of the engine. “Come on, baby,” I said, then kicked it into gear and peeled off down the alley, only to careen sideways to a halt as someone familiar stepped from the shadows in front of me.
Clarence.
Well, hell.
CHAPTER TEN
“Looks like we’ve got a few issues to work through,” Clarence said as soon as I’d pulled off the road and killed the engine on the bike.
“I didn’t break any rules.”
“You were supposed to stay away from your sister.”
I shook my head. “No way. I said I wouldn’t tell her the truth. And what the hell are you doing spying on me, anyway?”
“I like to think of it as protecting our investment. Making sure the agreement we reached was solid.”
I held up my hands. “I totally abided by the letter of the law. Didn’t step off the path even a millimeter, and you know it.”
His lips pressed together, and I watched as he pondered my words, irritation boiling below the surface. I was right—technically, I was absolutely right. But as for the spirit of the thing . . .
Well, maybe a micromillimeter.
“Nice of you to admit it,” he said.
“I had to see her,” I said simply. It was the truth, and I hoped it was good enough.
Clarence cupped his hand thoughtfully over his mouth and stared so long at me I began to feel antsy under the inspection. Finally, he shook his head. “You gotta be smarter than that, pet. You’re our ace in the hole, remember?”
I nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything.
He released a long-suffering sigh. “What do you think’s gonna happen to little Rosie there if some badass demon figures out who you are? You think he’s gonna try to take you down?”
“Maybe,” I said, but my voice had lost some of its edge. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
“Yeah, maybe is right. But if he’s a smart demon—and if he knows you got a kid sister out there, someone you’re pining over, someone you love—whaddya think he’s going to do then?”
I shook my head, not wanting to go where he was leading me.
He mimed a knife across his throat. “And not you, pet. Her. You hang with her. You talk with her. You let that girl into your life, and you are putting her life in danger.” He spread his hands wide, then shrugged. “That’s just the way of it, and unless you got some pieces missing up here, you know I’m right.” He tapped his temple and looked at me solemnly.
After a moment, I nodded, because, dammit, I couldn’t argue the point. Rose had been through hell once. I wouldn’t be responsible for putting her through it again.
But this wasn’t forever. I’d fight the demons. I’d make sure the gate stayed closed. And then, by God, I’d get my sister back.
In the meantime, though, I had a pissed-off frog staring me down. “Am I in huge trouble?”
He cracked a small smile. “No, kid. Guess I shoulda known you wouldn’t stay away. That’s who you are. Loaded with fluffle.”
I lifted my brows. “Yeah. I’m fluffy.”
He snorted, then shoved his hand deep inside his overcoat. “Got you a little something. Thought it might take the edge off.”
“Yeah?”
He passed me a small, wrapped package. “Open it,” he said, gruffly.
I peeled the paper back to reveal a plain white box, the kind in which necklaces come wrapped at Christmas. I looked curiously at him, then lifted the lid and made a little gasping sound when I saw the gold chain and heart-shaped locket.
“Took it off your body,” he said. “Thought you might want it.”
I nodded, unable to force words past my dry mouth and throat. I’d worn the necklace on Saturday, when I’d gone out to kill Lucas Johnson. It was a piece of my past, a part of my personal history, and something I’d never expected to see again.
I pried it open with one of my manicured nails and found the familiar, tiny picture of me and Rose, arm in arm, sitting on the swing on our front porch. “Thank you,” I said, slipping the chain over my neck and tucking the locket under my shirt, close to my heart. “This means . . . everything.”
“Yeah, well. You know.”
“Won’t the police miss it? I mean, I’m a murder victim, right?”
“They might,” Clarence said. “But that’s not our problem, is it?”
I couldn’t help the grin. “Why, Clarence, you devil. You’re a bit of a rule breaker, too.”
He snorted, then shuffled his feet. “Let’s keep that to ourselves, okay?” But whether he meant his bad-boy propensities or the locket itself, I didn’t have time to ask, because he pulled himself up to his full—albeit short—height, then cleared his throat. “There are a few rules that are inflexible. But because we haven’t covered them yet, I’m going to give you a pass. This time.”
“And we’re talking about what?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. Because I’d made an end run around two rules this night, and I had a feeling that telling Deacon that Alice was taking up killing demons was going to turn out to be an even bigger no-no than visiting my sister.
“The demon,” he said. “I got sources, kid, and they tell me that you took out the Grykon nice and neat.”
I blinked, completely thrown for a loop. “The ‘Grykon’? You mean the Hell Beast in the alley? I broke a rule doing that? Are you schizo? You’re the one who told me to! Kill it; don’t give it a headache. That’s what you said, right?”
“Killing the Grykon’s a big ticky mark in the good column. Absolutely. It’s the circumstances that we got some problems with.”
“Oh.” That thudding sound I heard was the other shoe dropping. Apparently, I hadn’t dodged the Deacon bullet after all.
“You’re supposed to be working alone, kid. So what am I doing hearing that someone was with you when you killed the critter?” He paused, and even though he was a full head shorter than me, right then it seemed like he was the one looking down on me. “Who was it? Who was with you?”
“You don’t know?” The possibility was so startling that I completely glossed over the fact that my frog friend was royally pissed. “You don’t keep some sort of constant watch?
Like God looking down from heaven? A little handheld video device tuned to me? All Lily, all the time?”
He snorted. “Wouldn’t that be handy? But no. You’re pretty much on your own, unless I get a whim to follow you around town.”
“But you just said—”
“Sources, kid. I said I got sources. And they told me the general drift; now I want the down and dirty. So let me ask again—who finally took the demon out?”
“Maybe I did.”
He shook his head. “No.”
Couldn’t argue with that. “Someone else was in the alley,” I said, trying to think softly. “But it’s not like I revealed my secret identity. I still have my supersecret decoder ring, I promise.” I kept my face bland and hummed “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” in my head, hoping to drown out any errant thoughts even more. Deacon had pushed my buttons but good.
The song was a trick I’d learned with my stepfather. Because Joe was an expert at reading faces. He used to always be able to tell when I’d been getting into stuff I had no business getting into. And inevitably, I’d ended up with a smack on my backside.
But once I’d learned to fill my head with mundane things—children’s songs, stupid nursery rhymes, ditties from Schoolhouse Rock—the smacks were less and less frequent. I watched myself in the mirror once and realized why: even as my head blanked out with the mindless ditty, my face went blank as well.
With any luck, my little trick worked on heaven’s messengers, too.
“Lily . . .”
“What was I supposed to do?” I snapped. “That thing was on me, and he pulled it off, and then we fought it together. I stabbed it, and I thought I’d killed it. Then he stabbed it again, and poof, a big puddle of demon.”
“He, who?”
“Deacon Camphire.”
His eyes narrowed, and I swear if my life were a movie, creepy music would have crescendoed. I swallowed and took an involuntary step backward, the dark images I’d seen in Deacon’s mind stirring now within my own head. “He helped me, Clarence. What’s wrong with that? Why is that bad?” I heard the high pitch of my voice and hated myself for it.
“Helped? Oh, no, pet. Deacon Camphire wasn’t there to help you. I don’t know what he was really up to, but he damn sure isn’t an ally.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, afraid that I knew exactly what he meant. “What’s wrong with Deacon?”
He looked at me, his expression curious.
“Dammit, Clarence,” I pressed, when his lips stayed stubbornly closed. “Tell me. What’s wrong with Deacon?”
“Everything,” he announced, flatly. “He’s a demon, Lily. A filthy, lying, stinking demon. He’s bathed in the fires of hell, and the stench of the evil he’s done clings to him, as pungent as rotting flesh. A demon,” he repeated. “Exactly the kind of creature you were created to destroy.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“A demon,” I repeated, something acidic roiling in my stomach. I stifled a shiver and forced myself to keep up the children’s-song serenade, because these were the kinds of thoughts I was certain I’d be broadcasting loud and clear otherwise. Deacon is a demon. I didn’t want to believe it—couldn’t get my head around it—but at the same time I was utterly certain it was true. That flash of rage. The creeping, tingling sensation, like something dark and sinister had come to call. Something sensually compelling, but totally dangerous.
“What’s the matter? Not expecting eye candy to be one of the bad ones?”
I kept my mouth shut; that one hit a little too close to home.
Clarence snorted. “Gotta get rid of those worn-out expectations, Lily. Things aren’t always what they seem, pet.”
“Like you?” I snapped, wanting to hurt him. Because as inexplicable as it might be, his news about Deacon had cut me deep. I’d been an idiot, pulled into an emotional trap, and I hated myself for my weakness.
“Me?” he asked, apparently oblivious to my inner turmoil, and thank God and Schoolhouse Rock for that. “With me, what you see is what you get.”
“Yeah? Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re hardly my idea of a heavenly messenger.”
“What would be your idea?”
“I don’t know. Good manners, for one. More paternal. Softer. And a hint of holiness wouldn’t hurt, either.”
His mouth twitched with amusement. “Straight out of central casting. Did it ever occur to you that I’m here because of you?”
“What do you mean?”
He snorted. “Come on, pet. You’d turn an angel’s halo black inside ten minutes. And you really gonna listen to a priest? You gonna ask questions and hound ’em, and get your head properly around what’s going on? Oh, no, kid. I’m here because I’m the only one the big guy figured you’d listen to.”
I frowned, taken aback. Because the truth was, he was right. Clarence irritated me to no end, but it was a familiar, comfortable irritation. Like dealing with Jeremy or one of his ilk.
“Like I was saying—you gotta make an effort to look beneath the surface.”
I had to grudgingly agree. I let my mind wander back to the bar, to the way I’d slid so seamlessly into Alice’s life even though it hadn’t been seamless at all. I’d stumbled in my duties. I’d tended Leon with paramedical training that Alice most likely didn’t possess. And no one had noticed.
“It’s not just me, is it? I mean, no one really looks beneath the surface anymore, do they?”
He didn’t answer, his silence an invitation to continue.
“I waltzed into her life. No one even knew she was gone. No one mourned her. Nobody said their last good-byes. They just ordered another round and watched her ass fill out a pair of black jeans. Only it wasn’t her ass in those jeans, not really. And nobody had one fucking clue.”
My jaw was tight and I blinked back tears for this woman I hardly knew. A woman hardly known by the people with whom she’d spent every day of her life.
“You get it, then.”
I nodded. Sadly, I did.
I frowned, remembering the way Leon had lain crumpled on the floor, and remembering the man who’d put him there. Even with that temper, there’d been no hint that Deacon was anything more than a man. Certainly not a demon. Certainly not the incarnation of evil.
In the alley, he’d spoken to me with genuine concern in his voice, and he’d helped me fight the Grykon. Only the fact that I’d seen the inside of his mind let me believe what Clarence said. And, yeah. I believed it.
“Why?” I asked Clarence. “Why would he help me?”
“Come on, Lily. You’re not stupid. Why do you think?”
“He played me,” I said, clenching and unclenching my hands at my sides, not sure if I wanted to slide a knife deep into Deacon’s heart or simply never see him again. “The son of a bitch played me—or, rather, he played Alice—and I had no fucking idea.”
“That’s the way they operate, kid. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“You’re not mad? You’re not going to—you know.” I glanced toward his waist, where I knew that blade was sheathed inside his coat.
“Not if you’re giving it to me straight. He doesn’t know who you are? What you are?”
“He doesn’t. I swear. But—” Deacon’s last comment about staying out of his head popped into my mind before I could stop it, and I saw Clarence’s face pinch, his expression shifting from anger to fear before smoothing out to basic, boring bland. A lot like my studied new expression, actually, and for one quick, quirky moment, I wondered what he was trying to hide.
“What exactly did he say?” Clarence asked, his frozen face shifting back to its usual animated self.
“Only that I needed to stay out of his head,” I said, adding a mental song blast just to be on the safe side.
“What did he mean?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “I was kinda guessing that maybe Alice was like you.”
His head cocked slightly to one side. “Why would he think that? You been getting in anyone�
�s head, pet?”
“He thought Alice was like you,” I said. “I’m not really her, remember?” I spoke over a backdrop of “Conjunction Junction.” And I said it firmly, the way I’d learned to lie.
I also said it over a backdrop of guilt because here I was, rolling off yet another lie, made all the worse because I was lying to God’s right-hand dude. But I couldn’t help myself. I was less than one day into this freakish new life, and I desperately wanted to keep it. I wanted to be Superchick. I wanted to fight demons. I wanted the chance to even my own karmic scorecard.
And something in Clarence’s eyes made me think that if I told him the truth about what was happening in my head, all bets were off.
I forced the thoughts back deeper behind the veil of children’s songs. Clarence was looking at me, his expression thoughtful, and I had to hope he hadn’t been able to sneak in around the edges of my mind.
“You think he was bullshitting?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. We know he was pulling my chain. But it doesn’t matter because Alice is dead. And there’s nothing funky going on in my head.”
“Then you’re golden, kid. But you’ll tell me if anything pops up there, right? Can’t believe we didn’t know that about Alice, but if she really can poke around in a demon’s head, that could come in pretty damn handy.”
“Can’t you?”
He shook his head. “One, I ain’t on the front lines. And two, I only do human psyches. Limitations of my gift.”
“Oh.” Wasn’t that interesting? The kind of nifty little tidbit of info I could file away for a rainy day.
I thought about the nature of my job and lined that up with the nature of Deacon. “So, um, am I supposed to kill him?”
“Deacon?” He shook his head. “No.”
I tried hard to stifle my sigh of relief. “Why not? He’s a demon. I kill demons.”
“That he is, and that you do. But he’s not one to trifle with. He’s strong, Lily. Damn strong. And until you have a few more kills under your belt, I think it’s safe to say he’s a damn sight stronger than you. He’s taken out too many on our side for me to blithely put you in his path. Our endgame is too important to risk our resources going after scum like Deacon Camphire. You understand?”