Demon Master (Demonsense series Book 2)

by Sara DeHaven

  “I know, babe, I know. I’ll look after him, and these two.”

  “Come with me?” Daniel asked Bree with a pleading, half embarrassed look. She realized that now he was here, it was all coming home to him. He was anxious about seeing Kevin, as was she. She straightened her spine and reminded herself she’d seen Kevin shot, and hadn’t fallen apart then. She wouldn’t fall apart now.

  “Room 322, down the hall and to your right,” Bruce prompted. They headed off, Daniel in the lead. The nurse eyed them sternly from her desk as they went by.

  They walked into the room together. It was as they’d been warned. Kevin looked awful. His skin tone was close to grey, there was a ventilator tube down his throat, and his chest was rising and falling with the hissing sound of the machinery. His face looked vulnerable without his glasses, and he looked older as well. Lines on his face Bree usually didn’t notice were visible. All this somehow added up to him looking extraordinarily ill.

  She hated to think what he must have looked like before Sophie and Dion pumped some healing energy into him. The thought terrified her. As much as she feared him dying, until this moment, she hadn’t allowed herself to imagine it could really happen. She tore her gaze away from Kevin and looked at Daniel. As much as she loved Kevin, she was sure Daniel loved him more. His face showed the strain of his attempt to keep calm.

  She reached out and clasped his hand with hers. His return grip was tight almost to the point of pain, but Bree didn’t complain or pull away. If this was all she could do to support him, this was what she’d do. And a tiny, guilty part of her was relieved to see some emotion in Daniel, any emotion.

  After a moment, he let go of her hand. He pulled up a chair close to the bedside so he could easily hold Kevin’s hand. He looked up at Bree gravely. “I’d like you to keep at least a mid level read on me while I do the healing. I should be fine, but my concern is that if I drain my energies too far, I might in some way lose control of the restraining structure I’ve put in place. I don’t want to get down lower than about thirty percent of normal. When I get that far, I want you to stop me if I haven’t already stopped myself. And Bree, no matter how anxious you get, no matter how much you think he might be able to help, please don’t call Gelsenim, not unless I blow apart again. I haven’t tested the restraints with demon contact yet.”

  “No worries, it hadn’t occurred to me to ask for his help,” Bree told him truthfully. She just didn’t associate demon kind with healing ability. Maybe Gelsenim could boost a Healer’s power if he possessed the Healer, but obviously, in this case, she wasn’t going to suggest it.

  Daniel nodded at her in acknowledgement, and turned back to Kevin and closed his eyes, preparing to do the Healing. Bree moved behind Daniel and worked her hand under his shirt and sweater to make physical contact with his shoulder. His skin was warm. She reached out to lightly attune with him, enough to monitor energy levels. In spite of her exhaustion, her Reader sense came to her command, although it was creaky and slow.

  At first, Daniel seemed merely at rest, probably gathering himself for the working, maybe running through whatever meditation helped him renew his structure of restraints. After about three or four minutes of that, she began to feel a sort of warmth rising in him. It wasn’t physical warmth, more an energetic warmth. She felt it flowing up from somewhere inside him like sap rising in a tree. She perceived it as a golden-green color, like a combination of sunlight and the green of growing things. She’d gotten a taste of it before, when he’d done Healing on her, but this seemed stronger, much stronger. The energy welled up until it started to flow out of him, into Kevin. It seemed to move at a steady pace, and she spared a moment to admire Daniel’s control. The only talents where she had that level of skill were her Reader and Exorcist talents. If only she could control her Casting to that degree. She was enjoying the warm sensation of the healing until a thread of anxiety entered noticeably into Daniel’s energy. Lips compressed in effort, Bree honed in the sensation. Daniel was worried about how the healing was going.

  She had to fight back her own spike of fear in response. Daniel might be able to sense it from her, given the level at which they were attuned, and she didn’t want to interfere with his concentration. It took more effort than it should have for her to get herself back into control. She made a mental note to eat as soon as this was over, as her remaining reserves were draining right along with Daniel’s. She carefully evaluated his base and will energy and decided he was close to the thirty percent mark. She gave him another few minutes, then shook his shoulder. “Daniel,” she said quietly, “it’s time to stop.”

  “I’m almost there,” her replied with obvious effort. “Just a few more minutes.”

  Bree clenched her teeth in worried frustration, but she did as he told her. She felt his energy go down further, down to about twenty five percent, then lower still. She shook him harder. “Daniel, that’s enough.”

  He didn’t answer, and she opened her eyes and moved around to where she could see his face. She reached out a hand and lightly slapped him on the cheek. “C’mon, Daniel, stop.”

  He was sweating, brow furrowed in effort, but still his eyes stayed closed. She reached down and tried to pull his hand away from Kevin’s, but he wouldn’t let go. “Okay, here goes,” she muttered, and she slapped him again, hard this time.

  His eyes flew open, then rolled back as he started to topple out of the chair. “Oh shit!” Bree exclaimed as she reached out to catch him. She settled him back into the chair, but he started to slide down out of it, clearly in a dead faint. Bree pressed her knees against his to keep him in the chair, putting her hands against his shoulders. “Daniel,” she said tensely, “wake up!”

  His head lolled forward. She tried shaking him a little, making his head bob up and down, but he didn’t come out of it. He hadn’t drained himself to a life threatening degree, she knew, but obviously, it had been enough to put him out. She got most of her hand on his neck, needing the physical contact to throw a read into him as tired as she was. He hadn’t seriously hurt himself, and she could feel the shape of the restraining structure still in place.

  She gasped with effort as she pulled out of the read. She’d wanted to go deeper, get a sense of whether the restraints had gotten weaker, but she was dead out of energy. And she realized she was probably going to need help getting him out of the chair and back into the waiting room. She tried looking over her shoulder to get a glimpse of Kevin. She wanted to see if he looked any better, but she couldn’t get a good angle of view. She was tiring quickly, and had just about girded herself to call for help when the nurse from earlier stepped into the room. She stopped halfway in, hands on hips, and said with exasperation, “You have got to be kidding me. Another one?”

  “I’m so sorry, ma’am, he’s not usually like this. But it’s his oldest friend,” Bree replied lamely.

  “I’ll go get one of your friends,” the nurse replied, turning to leave.

  “Get the big one, the one with the beard,” Bree requested as the nurse left the room. Her arms and legs were trembling with the effort of propping Daniel upright by the time Bruce got there.

  “Well, this is a fine kettle of fish,” he said with a laugh as he walked in. “We’re going to go down in hospital history as the wimpiest group ever to visit a patient.” He quickly took over from Bree, got Daniel’s arm around his shoulder, and heaved him up out of the chair. “He’s heavier than he looks,” Bruce grunted.

  Bree got around to Daniel’s other side, although she thought she could probably use someone to help her out of the room as well. But she held up her end all the way to the waiting area. Fortunately, Daniel came around just enough to try to walk, but he passed out again once they laid him on the floor, Sophie and Dion having already taken the only rows of chairs that could accommodate someone lying down.

  Bree collapsed into a chair just as Steve returned bearing a sack of goodies. He started handing out cups of yogurt, spoons, and muffins. He knew enough a
bout powered to get quadruple what would have seemed normal. Bruce roused Sophie and got her to eat some yogurt. Neither Dion nor Daniel could be woken.

  “How’s Kevin?” Steve enquired once he was finished. “Did it work?” The hope in his voice was painful to hear.

  “I don’t know for sure. Daniel passed out before he could tell me. But he put everything he had into it, Steve. He went beyond what was really safe. It has to have helped.”

  “I’ll be in his room,” Steve said shortly, then turned back around and said, “Thank you, all of you,” tears welling in his eyes, and left.

  Bree inhaled the first yogurt, and was actually able to taste the second one. She downed a bottle of water in record time as well, then started on her first muffin before being able to spare much attention for the others.

  Dion looked peaceful. Bruce must have helped him to lie down. He still had on his white uniform shirt and dark work pants, so he’d obviously come straight from a shift. His head was on the chair near her, and she ran a fond hand over his short, springy black hair. She leaned down and whispered, “You’re my hero.”

  When he didn’t respond, not even to smile, she knew he was truly out. If he were awake at all, he would never let that pass without comment, or ever let her forget she’d said it. She got up and went to sit next to Sophie, having to step around Daniel as she went. He looked dead to the world as well.

  Sophie’s cheek was red where it had been pressed against her hand as she slept. Her eyes were puffy with fatigue and remnants of tears. Her hair had been tamed into two braids, and they were fuzzy with escaping tendrils. Bree put an arm around Sophie’s shoulders and hugged her. They touched their heads together and sat like that for a moment, just soaking up the comfort of each other’s presence. Bree gave her a final squeeze and let go.

  “So you fainted, huh?” she said, teasing.

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t tell the nurse I’m a midwife. My reputation will be ruined.”

  “How is he, Soph? Did they take good care of him?”

  “As far as I can tell, they did a good job. But it really is touch and go. It’s a good thing you called all the Healers in.”

  “I just wish I knew more of them,” Bree sighed.

  “Well, it’s not a common talent, especially at the high power level,” Sophie replied. “I may have taken the edge off, but I don’t think I was able to do much, and if Dion was using his talent already tonight, he might not have been able to do much more. My real hope rests with what Daniel was able to accomplish.”

  “I wish I knew how well it worked. He seemed worried there, at the end, and I had to force him to stop.”

  “Well, it rests with the Lady now,” Sophie replied tiredly. “Prayer would not be amiss, you know. There are double blind studies that show it has a positive effect on patient outcome.”

  “Well, I’ll pray as long as I can stay awake,” Bree responded, a yawn interrupting her words midway through.

  “Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “A bit of dozing is all.”

  “Bruce got the most sleep of us all. Would you try to stay awake for awhile honey, let Bree and I get some shut eye after we pray?”

  “If either of you can find a place to lie down,” Bruce said doubtfully.

  “I think I could sleep anywhere at this point,” Bree assured him. All three of them spent some time in prayer, each in their own way, before first Sophie, then Bree, lay down to try to get a little sleep.

  Bree settled down on the floor next to Daniel, making sure one of her hands was touching his so she’d wake if he stirred. She wanted to read him again once he was conscious, and she desperately wanted to hear his assessment of Kevin’s condition, but she knew there was nothing further any of them could do for now, and she should let him rest while he could. She drifted off to sleep faster than she would have thought possible, in spite of the increasing activity in the waiting room as more normal visiting hours commenced.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Leander was both annoyed and a little anxious when his doorbell chimed. He was in the middle of a good book, and he figured the only people who actually knew where he lived were Scanlon and his lackeys and Marton. He supposed it could be Bree, but he doubted it. He’d waited for her to call him, initially certain it wouldn’t be long. There had been some definite chemistry between them at their last encounter. He knew she’d been feeling ambivalent about that, but in his experience, women weren’t able to resist him for long, at least not at this stage of the game. It wasn’t something he felt particularly proud of, it was just a fact. But as time went on with no word from Bree, he'd begun to worry. He was on a timeline, and an unreasonable one at that. He’d finally called her, even though he was fairly certain it was the wrong move. She hadn’t answered and hadn’t yet responded to his message that he hoped she was well and would like to get together. As he walked over to his intercom, he considered what Marton’s reaction was likely to be to his lack of progress. It could be that he was about to find out. “Yes?” he enquired, pressing the send button on the intercom.

  “It’s Marton.” Leander replied by buzzing him in. He was less than pleased when he opened his front door to find Marton accompanied by Franchesca. Her face was red and swollen on one side, and it looked like a black eye might be starting up.

  After a brief greeting, Leander led the way into his living room. He didn’t offer them anything to drink, his token protest at being disturbed. He took their coats, and Marton settled down on the couch and crossed his legs, putting an arm on the couch’s back, behind Franchesca. Franchesca placed a possessive hand on Marton’s thigh. “We’ve just come from an action,” Marton informed him. “It went quite well. There was a protest downtown, and we were able to call enough demons to send the whole thing into a riot. I think this one will be the most high profile yet.”

  “Congratulations,” Leander said with an obvious lack of sincerity, settling down into a white chair across from Marton.

  Marton’s handsome, severe face broke into a smile at that. Leander knew his cheekiness amused Marton, at least up to a point. “You really should try to become more of a big picture thinker,” Marton chided.

  Leander lounged back in his chair. “Why should I?”

  “Because your fortunes rise and fall along with mine,” Marton told him.

  His manner was still humorous on the surface, but Leander read something else underneath. It read like displeasure. In spite of himself, Leander tensed up at that. “Of that I am well aware,” he answered. “Still, you know I don’t have your talent for strategy. I’m better at tactics.”

  “I think you’re perfectly capable of strategy. You just won’t be bothered.”

  “Why, do you need me to be bothered right now?” Leander knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth. Marton’s expression sharpened, reminding Leander of an eagle that has sighted prey. “Yes, I need you to be bothered right now,” Marton replied intently. “You haven’t reported in on your progress on the Thorvaldson issue. I have to assume that’s because you haven’t made any. I believe I’ve made clear how your assignment fits into the overall plan. I can only assume the bigger picture doesn’t interest you if you’ve made this little effort.”

  Leander was stung by Marton’s words. “Hey, I’m good, but I can’t work magic, Marton. This kind of assignment usually takes a couple of months to bring to fruition. I’ve only been at it a couple of weeks. If this was so damned important, why didn't you set it up sooner?”

  Marton’s eyes narrowed, and Franchesca’s face lit with avid interest. Leander knew she didn’t care for him, just as he didn’t care for her. She was the jealous type, and didn’t like the fact that Marton tended to give him special treatment.

  “I had other work for you, as you may recall,” Marton said coldly. “Leander, I know you. You’re lazy. Yes, you get the job done, but this time, I need you to work faster, to work harder.”

  “Look, Bree h
as gotten all emotional,” Leander defended himself. “I’ve definitely secured her interest, but apparently, she’s still caught up in Thorvaldson. She as much as told me she still has a major thing for him and doesn’t feel right being with me with that unresolved. If I push too hard right now, it will scare her off completely, and all the progress I’ve made will be lost. She’s definitely my best road in to Thorvaldson. I’m just trying not to blow it here.”

  “Daniel cares for her, but if he truly wanted her, he would have acted by now,” Franchesca put in. “He’s known her for months, plenty of time to decide if they’re going to be together. She was never good enough for him.”

  “I think she’s more high power than you know,” Leander returned.

  Franchesca’s lips tightened in anger. “I’ve read her. I’ve seen her under threat of her life. When she’s not possessed, she’s not even close to my equal.”

  “I just think she has different talents than you do. For one thing, it appears she can be possessed without ill effect of any kind.”

  Marton leaned forward at that. “You didn’t say anything about this before,” he accused.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Scanlon. I didn’t think that was any part of the job I’m doing for him. He just wants to know about the circumstances of his son’s death. I wanted to save this bit of information for you.”

  There was some truth to that, but what Leander wasn’t telling Marton was that he hadn’t been sure he wanted Marton to know. As far as he knew, Marton was the only other Demon Master who shared that ability. He seemed unusually impervious to Demon Master instability as well. Leander wouldn’t say he was completely immune, but he’d seen Marton during and after possession, and there was no doubt he had some kind of affinity for the particular demon he tended to call. He’d had a feeling Marton wouldn’t like someone else to have that talent. He might feel threatened by it.