In the Demon's Company (Demon's Assistant Book 2)

by Tori Centanni

  I keep seeing the swirling silver in my mind and cold, unfeeling demons with frozen hands grabbing me from the shadows.

  Someone grabs my shoulder. I whirl and look into the eyes of a strange man. He has dark hair and wears a sweatshirt beneath his puffy coat.

  “Come with me,” he says. I shake my head, confused, and he waggles his pocket. I see a flash of metal: a gun. My heart pounds against my ribs. For a second, I think he’s one of the Moritas, like Xanan, but his face is red and puffy and his eyes are bloodshot like he’s been crying. He’s human. Besides, I doubt creatures like Xanan need guns. I swallow. “Come on,” he urges, tugging at my arm so hard he nearly pulls me over.

  I dig my boots into the sidewalk. There’s no way in hell I’m going with him, but what do I do here? A dagger I don’t know how to use isn’t going to do any good against a bullet. But there are people around. Tired retail employees waiting for the bus, a guy smoking on the corner, a few drunk guys in Seahawks jerseys.

  “Let go of me!” I yell, at the top of my lungs.

  The guy with the gun looks startled. I duck and twist out of his grip like we were taught during a brief self-defense unit in Phys. Ed. I back up several feet, still aware of the gun trained on me. Several people are looking determinedly away, not wanting to get involved with whatever drama is playing out. Altercations at this bus stop are not unusual. But some people are watching.

  “Go away!” I shout at him. One of the sports fans, a tall, dark-skinned guy who probably doesn’t realize this jerk has a gun, steps between us.

  “You bothering her?” he asks.

  “She—” the gun guy starts and stammers and tries to fumble for an explanation.

  “Dude, back off. She doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

  Silently thanking the guy for interceding, I bolt down the block and then run to a taxi parked on Fifth. I don’t hear footsteps after me and don’t see the guy in the puffy coat. I suspect that gentlemen held my attacker back. But I’m still impossibly relieved when the cab pulls away from the curb. I shove cash at the driver when we reach my building and then race inside, only stopping to breathe when the security door clicks shut behind me. Then I call Cam.

  Cam arrives fifteen minutes later. I don’t know what lie he told his mom so that he was allowed to race out of the house after ten on a school night, but Cam’s mom has always trusted him. Why shouldn’t she? He’s the very model of an overachieving honor student.

  I double check the keyhole before opening the door and lock the bolt behind him. Cam puts his arms around me, solid and warm. “You’re okay,” he says, like he’s trying to reassure both of us that it’s true.

  All I can think is, that was too close. What if no one had stepped in to help? What if the guy had shot me when I screamed? I cry into Cam’s chest, staining his hideous orange band t-shirt with black eyeliner and tears.

  “I’m sure it was one of her people,” I say. “Vessa. She’s after me.”

  “Why would she be after you? I thought she was building an army. People building armies aren’t usually overly picky about their soldiers. They don’t need to go after specific people.” It’s a reasonable point, and it’s true: the guy with the gun was pretty incompetent, trying to grab me with witnesses everywhere. Not a professional kidnapper. Hell, the guy was sweating so much he was probably more scared than me. But she definitely sent him after me.

  I shake my head. I don’t know why. Because she’s met me, making me a target? Because we took Anna from her? But Anna was just a random person, someone home at the wrong time, nice enough to let a stranger into her house. Anna didn’t strike me as a strategic target but that doesn’t mean the crazy murderous demon isn’t offended.

  “What did Azmos say?” Cam asks, sitting on the sofa.

  “I called you first.”

  Cam smiles and his eyes flick to my pinky ring again. The smile dims. “You should tell him.”

  “Yeah,” I say. I think of his insistence that he take care of Vessa alone and Xanan’s instructions to do what I could to destroy her. “I will. I just wish there was something more helpful I could do than report some jerk trying to grab me off the street.”

  “Not letting him grab you was a good start,” Cam says. “What were you even doing out? Aren’t you grounded?”

  I tell him about the silver letter—he goes slightly pale—and then I spill the rest. The theater, the bodies, the hole to the Spirit Realm, all of it. Including the fact that there are apparently demons who would happily kill me just for my proximity to Azmos. By the end, Cam is up and pacing the room, snapping his fingers idly, like he’s trying to solve a particularly hard homework problem.

  “You’re going to hate me for pointing this out, but there’s an obvious solution.” He stops pacing and glances out the window. The living room windows and balcony look out toward the wall of another apartment building. “Quit. Then you won’t be a target for Vessa or these Moritas.”

  “I don’t think it works that way, Cam. You don’t hand in your resignation and then suddenly all ties are cut. I’m already involved.” I twist my ring around my finger. “Besides, do you really think demons like that would care? They’d probably destroy the whole city if they thought it would solve their problem. You’ve met Xanan. He’s definitely the ‘light a candle with a flame thrower’ type.”

  Cam sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “I feel like a complete idiot.” And maybe I am. I’m in trouble with my dad and school. I signed up to work with Azmos, never considering that even good demons might have enemies.

  “Absolutely not,” Cam says without hesitation, which makes me feel a little better. He sits down next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. Warmth rushes through me at his touch. “Impulsive, maybe. A little reckless. But you’re brave, too. You’ve dealt with things most people couldn’t even comprehend and you haven’t let it break you. Honestly, you’ve kind of… thrived.”

  He actually sounds impressed, which means a lot coming from Cam. I take deep breaths and try to make myself feel less shaky. After a few moments, I slump over, head in my hands. I think of Gabriel, who can’t help but be mired in the arcane world and wonder if he thinks I’m a moron for choosing to be. “Would you take Azmos’ deal?” I don’t know why I ask it but once it’s hanging in the air, I find I really want to know.

  Cam considers carefully. “Maybe,” he finally says. “I guess it depends.”

  “On what?” I ask.

  Cam shrugs and tightens his grip around me, squeezing. “I don’t know. The situation.”

  “Gabriel didn’t take it. He was going to die and he chose death.” And Mrs. Crane took Vessa’s deal, but she chose not to hurt others, decided that the cost was too high. I can’t bring myself to talk about her right now though.

  “Why did you?” Cam asks, smoothing my hair back.

  “It wasn’t ever a choice,” I say. “Not really.” The memory of the aftermath of the accident is hazy. I barely remember Azmos, a well-dressed figure so out of place beside the crushed car. I was in shock. And yet he offered me a chance to live and I said yes. I don’t remember hesitation of any kind.

  Cam’s fingers run through my hair. “But it was, Nic. And when faced with something like that, everyone has to make their own decision.”

  I sit up, uneasy from the conversation, and from the thought of demons hunting me and Az down, and from a kidnapping attempt with a gun. Suddenly I’m too tired to deal with any of it.

  “I’m going to bed,” I say.

  “I’m staying over,” Cam says. “I told my mom I was going to Brian’s, so…” He stands and stretches, his t-shirt riding up above his belt and exposing skin. “I think she knows, to be honest. I’m surprised she let me come.”

  “All I care about is that you’re here,” I say. He reaches down and helps me stand, and then we crawl into bed. I cling tightly to him, relieved to have him solid and warm against me. I don’t think I�
��d manage to sleep without him, but because he’s there, I drift off pretty quickly.

  The weekend passes uneventfully. I stay in like I’m supposed to, since no demon errands pop up. On Monday, I get texts from Mel during school breaks. “How’s suspension?” she asks.

  “Great. Like forced vacation.”

  “I’m sure,” she replies hours later, at lunch. “Have you summited Homework Mountain yet?”

  I hesitate and then reply with a frowny emoji. Homework is hard enough to concentrate on in small doses but when it’s all I have to do, it’s a challenge to focus on any of it. I turn on the television for background noise and check the mail twice. I even do the dishes.

  When I call the warehouse, there’s no reply. I resist the urge to go there in person, and as soon as I take my shoes back off and sit back down, the house phone rings. My dad still has a landline. Sure enough, it’s Dad, checking to make sure I’m where I’m supposed to be. He sounds relieved when I pick up, like he was betting I wouldn’t.

  He’s flying back on a late flight tonight so he’ll be home tomorrow. Two more days of suspension, and I get to spend them with actual adult supervision.

  At least it’ll be over soon. And hey, maybe when I’m released from my prison sentence, I’ll find out Azmos has dealt with his sister and things can go back to normal.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dad returns on a red-eye in the early hours of Tuesday morning. When I wake up, he’s in his room snoring, but by ten am, he’s awake and camped out on the sofa, watching Deadliest Catch and working on his laptop.

  I drag Homework Mountain from the kitchen table into my room and manage to get through most of my Spanish work. I’m in the middle of some very boring English class reading when my phone blares to life on the charger. I grab it and see it’s Azmos. Heart pounding, I pick up.

  “Have you seen Gabriel?” Azmos asks, without preamble. He sounds harried, speaking faster than normal.

  “No,” I say, a stone hitting my stomach. “Is he missing?”

  “No, no,” Azmos says quickly. I hear tapping on the other end, like a pen tapping against a glass top. His desk, maybe. “I cannot locate him, but that’s not unusual. I need you to get him and then come to the warehouse.”

  “What? Why?”

  There’s a pause. Then an exhale. “I tried to arrange a meeting with Vessa. Instead of coming herself, she sent a couple of goons to grab me. Xanan dispatched them easily enough but she’s clearly not willing to have a talk. I need Gabriel’s visions to tell me where she’s likely to be so I can get to her that way.”

  “She sent her lackeys after you?” I ask, surprised she’d even bother.

  “She is aware I’ve never been one for physical altercations,” he says. He sounds irritated by it. “That doesn’t mean I’m not willing to capture her to prevent her from harming others.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” Too fast to be believable. I can practically picture the hand wave. “But I do need Gabriel as soon as possible.”

  “Az, I can’t leave. I’m grounded.”

  There’s another long pause on the other end of the line. I know how idiotic it sounds, telling my demon boss I can’t do his bidding because my dad is punishing me, but that is the situation. “Nicolette, please. I am otherwise occupied trying to obtain other crucial information. Where she’s been, what she’s done; I need to gage the size of the mess she’s leaving in her wake. Call him, text him, whatever you must. Just get him here.”

  “My dad is here,” I say, more quietly, even though between my music and the television, I doubt he could hear if he wanted to. “I can’t go anywhere.”

  “Find a way,” he says, not unkindly, but with no room for argument. “That is your job, after all.” The call ends.

  I sigh and flop back onto my bed. Of course my demon boss needs something as soon as my dad is back in town. Why can’t timing ever work out right for once? How can I find Gabriel if I can’t leave the house? I don’t even know where he lives.

  But I do know places to look. I swear to myself, which is becoming a bad habit of mine: blurting expletives alone in rooms. I can check with Myron, Miranda, and the coffee shop. Gabriel could be any of those places, and Myron probably knows where he lives. But in order to do that, I need to leave the house.

  I can hear the television blaring down the hall. Dad is still camped on the couch. I slip into the living room.

  “I can’t focus here,” I say. “Can I go to library?”

  Dad gives me a withering look. “You’re grounded, Nicki. That means no leaving the house.”

  “Dad, come on, the library isn’t exactly my idea of fun, and I still have a metric ton of homework to get through before Wednesday.”

  “Sorry, kiddo. Since I was gone for the past three days, and I highly doubt you kept yourself locked in, I feel obligated to make sure I at least uphold the punishment for the duration of your suspension.”

  I sigh and retreat to my room. And then I get another idea.

  Cam doesn’t reply to my texts even though he should have gotten home from school an hour ago, but he shows as online in the chat messenger we use. I ping him and he asks how I am.

  “Holding up,” I type. “I need to ask you a favor.”

  There’s a long pause. The messenger client shows that Cam’s typing but he doesn’t send anything. Finally he just asks “What?”

  I ask him to come to my apartment, park in back, and ring the buzzer.

  “I won’t jailbreak you,” he says.

  “That’s not it,” I promise, and he agrees to come over.

  I put on a sweatshirt and scribble directions to Myron’s study and Miranda’s weapon cache on a piece of notebook paper, even though Cam was at the former, in case he needs a reminder of where it is. When the buzzer rings, I grab it before Dad can get up.

  “Hello? UPS,” Cam says, trying—and failing—to disguise his voice in case my dad has answered. I smile into the phone at this cleverness. Even though it totally doesn’t work, it’s sweet that he tries.

  “Be right down,” I say. I step into the living room. “It’s UPS,” I say. “I’ll go get it. I’m going to go get the mail, too.” My plan is to say the guy buzzed the wrong unit and I walked him to the right door, which should give me an excuse to spend a little time out in the hall, but not a lot.

  Dad looks me over. I’m wearing pajama pants with pink cartoon cats on them and fuzzy socks without shoes, the perfect I-am-definitely-not-going-to-leave-the-house-like-this outfit.

  “Okay,” Dad says, and turns back to his computer screen, ignoring the fishing boat on the television.

  Downstairs, Cam is at the back door, his blue sedan parked behind him. I kiss him quickly, a peck on the lips.

  “So, what do you need? Peanut M&Ms? A case of Sprite?”

  I wish it were that simple. I hand him the paper. “I need you to try and track down Gabriel and tell him to go to Az’s warehouse. If he’s not at one of these places, then call me and let me know you couldn’t find him.”

  Cam looks at me like I punched him in the nose. After a long moment, he clears his throat. “You want me to do your job.”

  “I just need you to run this one errand, since I obviously can’t. If you can’t find him, then at least I’ll have tried. Azmos needs him and apparently no one uses cell phones.” Although, in most of those places, I had no reception, so if he’s there, he’s simply unreachable.

  Cam puts his hand over his face, fingers pressed to his forehead, and then moves it up, pushing his fingers through his hair. He exhales. When he meets my eyes, his expression is hard. “Nic, you can’t ask this of me.”

  “You know I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important,” I say. If Azmos can’t get to Vessa, he can’t stop her. Anything I can do to help—even if it’s sending Cam as my messenger—feels better than doing nothing.

  “And you know that I can’t do it. Accepting this job of yours is one thing, but I refuse to participate beyond gi
ving you a ride now and then.”

  “You’d barely be participating. You’re just knocking on a couple of doors.” Cam’s glare could set fire to wet paper. “Azmos needs Gabriel’s visions so he can track down Vessa. If she isn’t stopped, big, bad demons are going to track him down, and kill anyone they think is conspiring with him, including me. This isn’t a game. It’s literally life or death.”

  “And why can’t Az do it himself if it’s so important?”

  “He’s busy with other things. He can’t do everything. Please, Cam,” I say again. “My dad is expecting me back any second. I don’t have time to argue. I’ll owe you big. Anything you want.”

  Cam gives me a look that suggests he doesn’t think I mean it. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  A tiny jolt of cold blasts through me. Because he’s right. There are things he could ask me to do that I wouldn’t. Like to quit this job. “I’ll do anything within reason,” I clarify. He doesn’t respond but he’s thinking, weighing the decision. “If you don’t do this, I’ll have to sneak out and there’s practically no chance I won’t get caught and I’d really like to not be grounded for the next decade.”

  “This is really unfair,” Cam says.

  “You’re the only person I can ask.” As I say it, it hits me just how alone I am in all of this. I can’t tell my dad and Mel is freaked out and not even sure what’s going on. Who else is there? Cam’s friends? Katrina, who has a massive crush on him? Amy and Justin and Brian? I like them, sure, but they’re not really my friends, and if Cam and I broke up, they’d never bother to talk to me or want to hang out. “You’re all I’ve got. I won’t ask again. Just, please, help me this once.”

  Cam sighs and takes the folded up piece of paper. “This is the only time I do the demon’s bidding. I mean it. Never again.”