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

by Tori Centanni

  “Why do you stick around?” I ask. “She clearly doesn’t care about you.”

  Kai gives me a dirty look. The older man doesn’t meet my eyes but he says, “Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  “Like dispose of corpses?”

  Kai lifts his gun and I force a laugh, even though my heart sinks like it’s already full of lead and splashes into my stomach. “You can’t shoot me. She doesn’t want you to.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t,” Kai says. “I can hit you in the arm. Let you suffer for the next hour. Shut. Your. Mouth.”

  I’m not entirely convinced he’ll actually do it but I’m also not sure he won’t, so I clamp my mouth shut while they decide what to do with the dead woman. At least they get her covered pretty quickly and I don’t have to look at her anymore. It’s bad enough knowing she’s there. They argue about leaving her there and decide Vessa will be furious and punish them for it.

  Finally, they decide to haul the body into the basement. From their conversation, I learn that this old apartment building is abandoned, so there are plenty of places to temporarily hide a human corpse. That thought is not encouraging.

  Red’s phone rings. She walks past me, giving me a snide look, before disappearing into the bedroom to take her call. Out of frustration, I try to move my arms again but the plastic is too thick to break by straining against it. All it does is dig into my wrists.

  So escape at the moment isn’t going to happen. Maybe I can get one of them to untie me. And, I remind myself, people are on their way to rescue me. Cam will be panicked by now and Gabriel knows I should have been at the warehouse hours ago. Azmos will find me. Or Xanan. Someone. They have to, because the alternative is unthinkable.

  When Kai and the other guy carry the corpse from the room, Rayna gets a bucket of bleach water and starts scrubbing the wall where part of the woman’s brain splattered. The splatter nauseates me, even from here, where it looks like a reddish gray stain. Rayna gags and coughs a few times as she scrubs. It’s not much of a chance but it might be the only opening I get.

  I clear my dry throat. “You’re really going to stay here and wait for her to come back?”

  Rayna looks up at me. “I don’t have a choice,” she says firmly.

  “Yes, you do. There’s always a choice.”

  She stops for a second. Then Rayna drops her rag into the plastic trash bag and starts with another. “Maybe, but it’s not a good one.”

  “Fine, then let me go. Or do you really want to watch her torture me to death?”

  “You know I don’t.” Her voice is soft. She dumps the last rag into the bag and then cinches it closed. “But if she comes back and you’re gone, I’m dead.”

  I grunt in frustration. “She’s going to kill you the second it’s convenient. You know that. And if she doesn’t, you’ll die when her magic fails because she’s overextending it. She needs to be stopped because otherwise, angry demons who fear her power are going to charge in and kill us all. She’s using too much of her magic too fast and it’s going to get attention from the wrong creatures.”

  Rayna sighs. From her expression, I can tell I oversold it. It may be true but it sounds too big and dramatic to get her on my side. “She saved my life.”

  “Only to make you her slave. And she’s not saving most of those people. She’s arranging their near-deaths so she can bring them under her power. She’s killing them to make them hers. And she’ll kill all of you for good if it suits her purpose.”

  Rayna swallows, slowly. “It’s not my business.”

  “You’re working for her. Everything she does is your business. You don’t get to help her murder innocent people and pretend like it’s not your fault.”

  She looks away from me. “You should tell her what she wants to hear. Make things easier on yourself.”

  “I can’t. And even if I could, I’d never betray Azmos that way.”

  Rayna’s eyes find mine. “Why would you protect a demon like that?”

  “Because he’d do the same for me,” I say. Azmos has always tried to protect me. He uses his powers for good, to help people and he’s never done anything but try to keep me safe.

  Rayna frowns.

  “He’s the good guy,” I insist. “She’s the bad guy. Don’t be her henchman.”

  Rayna looks back over at the newly bleached corner and softly, almost under her breath, whispers, “Damn it.” The bedroom door opens and Red saunters out. She doesn’t look happy but since I don’t know who she was talking to, I don’t know if I should be scared.

  Rayna dumps rags into the trash bag and stands. She looks at Red. “Maybe you should check on them,” she tells her.

  Red frowns. “They’re fine. And if not, well, it’s not my fault they’re incompetent.”

  “Just check,” Rayna says, her authoritative voice tinged with impatience. Red glares daggers but finally relents and stomps across the room and out the door. The minute it closes, Rayna bolts to the kitchen. She opens a cabinet under the sink and retrieves a pair of bolt cutters. I furrow my brow. She clips my hands free and then my legs.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, as she pulls me to my feet. It’s the sort of idiotic question I hate in movies. What do you think she’s doing, you moron, she’s helping you! But it slips out anyhow, my mouth not bothering to ask my brain how to be cool about this.

  “Can your demon boss help me?” she asks.

  “Maybe,” I say. It’s automatic. I don’t even consider if it’s true until I see hope flare over her face and I realize that actually no, it’s very unlikely that he can. Guilt runs another marathon in my midsection. Rayna drops the bolt cutters, shoulders her rifle, and then she opens a hall closet. She pulls out my coat and bag and thrust them out toward me.

  “Come on,” she says. She pulls the apartment door open and listens. A door somewhere below opens and shuts. She nods at me. “Let’s move.”

  Rayna leads the way and I hustle down the stairs after her, torn between a desire to be quiet and wanting to get the hell out of this place. The apartment I was being held in was on the fifth and top floor and we make it down to the second floor landing before a door opens below us. Rayna swears softly. We pause and wait, listening. Our ragged breathes fill the stairwell sounding as loud as thunder.

  Footsteps start up the stairs. Rayna sighs and then readies the rifle, stepping in front of me. Red clomps into view on her heels. When she sees us, her face crumples in confusion, her hand reaching for her own gun, spitting the word “Traitor.” Rayna fires. Red falls down the stairs with a sickening series of thuds.

  I wince and swallow back acid. I won’t cry for the sadistic stranger—I feel worse for the paint-splattered woman—but no one should have to die like this.

  “Come on,” Rayna orders. We race down the stairs, right over Red’s body. I grab the gun that’s near her hand. I have no idea how to use it but it’s better than a dagger that may or may not still be in my bag. Having it might at least scare people long enough for me to get away. I make a mental note to learn how to fire a gun and maybe take some hardcore self-defense classes. As we reach the first floor, I hear footsteps racing up from the basement. Gun shots echo in the stairwell. One slams into the wall in front of my face and I make a very undignified noise.

  Rayna opens the door to the building’s lobby and slams it shut. I don’t wait. I open the front doors to the building and race out into the night. We run down the street at a pace that would qualify me for track. My lungs scream for more air but I don’t dare slow down. I keep running, even after I’m sure we’ve lost Kai and the gray haired man, if they followed us at all. I run until we’re in the middle of downtown. Rayna ditches the rifle in a dumpster, since she can’t exactly walk around with it out, and I give her the pistol I stole from Red.

  “You sure?” she asks, when she reaches to take it.

  I nod. I don’t know if she’s asking because she thinks I should want it or because half an hour ago, we were on opposing
sides, but either way, I’d rather someone who knows how to use it keep it in case one of Vessa’s other goons pops up on our way to the warehouse. But by some stroke of luck, none of them do.

  A block from the warehouse, I stop near a streetlight and a warehouse that’s similar in build to the demon’s. Rayna stops behind me. I’m panting from exertion but Rayna is cool and collected. I’ve really got to start hitting the school gym during free use hours.

  Until I set eyes on the demon’s headquarters, it had floated in my mind like the only destination, a safe haven in this mad world. But now, with less adrenaline buzzing in my veins and go! go! go! flight response satisfied, I remember Anna with an icy stab of grief. Xanan didn’t even give her a chance. If Azmos is right—and I’m sure he is—all of the people under Vessa’s power will die if she dies, so maybe Rayna doesn’t have much hope for survival. But we might be able to subdue her without killing her, imprison her again or something. There’s a chance. Rayna saved my life. She deserves a chance, even if it’s a small one.

  Rayna is watching me carefully, her hand a little tight on the gun at her side. She’s out of the light, near the corner of the building, and her face is half cast in shadow. “What?” she asks. She checks herself for wounds, like maybe she’s bleeding and doesn’t realize it.

  I take in a deep breath and let it out. “I lied earlier. I don’t think my boss can help you.” Rayna’s expression doesn’t change. That’s almost worse than flat-out anger. “Even if he can, one of his people is going to kill you the minute they smell Vessa’s magic.”

  Rayna’s face darkens, her knuckles turning white around the handle of the gun. She doesn’t have to voice her thoughts for them to be plain: she’s come too far to die now. She’ll kill me if it means survival. But she doesn’t raise the gun.

  “So what do we do?” she asks.

  I shake my head. My limbs ache, especially where the plastic bit into my flesh and left raw, red marks. My brain feels like it’s made of wet cotton. I can’t think.

  “I don’t know. Get away from here. Run.”

  Rayna’s grip slackens on her gun and some of the fight melts out of her shoulders. “Can’t she track me down? Or kill me with her mind?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Is anything you said true?” There’s a note of bitterness in her voice. I honestly don’t blame her.

  “Vessa is evil. She needs to be stopped.” I shrug. My bones feel heavy. I meet Rayna’s eyes. “I owe you a debt I can’t repay.”

  She nods, sharply. She opens her mouth to speak and then her eyes flick to something behind me. I turn and see a familiar silhouette moving down the sidewalk. Xanan brushes past me, physically bumping into me.

  “Xanan!” His name peels out of me like a screech. He stops dead, three feet in front of me. For a second, I’m amazed that it worked. Then I see Rayna aiming the gun at his chest. No wonder he stopped. But he doesn’t pay a lot of attention to the gun. He looks back at me.

  “It cannot be helped,” Xanan says flatly. “You know that.”

  I do know that, or at least, I knew Xanan would see it that way. I don’t really understand how one person can possibly make that big of a difference, holes in the barrier to the Spirit Realm or not. But it’s too late. I brought her here and I got her killed. I knew Azmos probably couldn’t help her but I didn’t have to put her in Xanan’s path. I should have made her go another way when we got downtown. I was so focused on getting somewhere familiar and safe that I wasn’t thinking about her. But killing her with carelessness still means she ends up dead and it’s still my fault.

  Protests bloom in my chest but wither in my throat. Xanan steps forward.

  “I’ll shoot,” Rayna says. She holds the gun steady, trained on what should be his heart, assuming he has one.

  “Your spirit is being imprisoned in your body, but you know you don’t belong here,” Xanan says, his voice soft and maybe even a little regretful. He takes another step toward her.

  “Stay back!” Rayna orders.

  “Xanan, please,” I say. Unsurprisingly, he ignores me and takes another step.

  Rayna fires. The bullet explodes from the gun, the sound echoing off the square buildings. I wince, bracing myself for the impact.

  Xanan doesn’t even break his stride. He pulls the gun from Rayna and grabs her hand in his other hand and then runs his palm over her throat and shoulder. She slumps to the pavement, the life gone from her.

  He turns to me, his breath a little ragged. There’s a hole in his shirt about the size of a nickel. He reaches into the pocket of his dark jeans and hands something to me. I hesitate, and then step forward to take it. It’s a keycard. “I’ll take care of this,” he says. Not her. This.

  Fury bubbles in my veins. He didn’t kill her, not really, but is there even a difference? If someone is living and breathing and thinking, aren’t they still alive no matter what the magic radiating off of them says? I want to punch Xanan, to hit him until my fist bleeds and he understands that people aren’t disposable. That Rayna was a person and she saved my life.

  And I played a part in her death by letting her follow me here.

  “I do not enjoy this aspect of my duties,” Xanan says, as if reading my thoughts. “It is an unfortunate obligation. This is why Azmos only makes a certain number of deals. To prevent this necessity.”

  “She saved my life,” I say.

  “Good deeds do not spare anyone from death,” Xanan says. “I thought I impressed upon you the importance of keeping the balance.”

  I remember the silvery ooze and the threat of Xanan-like demons hunting me down and shudder. “That doesn’t make it fair.”

  “No,” he agrees. “It doesn’t.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I let myself into the warehouse, leaving Xanan to take care of Rayna and trying very hard not to cry. I thought I was too exhausted to form tears but as I enter the warehouse, they prick at my eyes. Too many good people have died.

  The floor room is far creepier in the dark, with shapes of mermaids and minotaurs looming in the shadows. No one is downstairs or on the second floor, so I let myself into their apartment using Xanan’s keycard.

  Gabriel is leaning on the dining table, sitting with an energy drink in front of him. His cheeks and scalp are dusted with dark stubble. He’s wearing his olive green trench coat like a cloak. Azmos is on the leather sofa, silent and still. He has a bruise on his jaw. I didn’t know demon flesh could bruise.

  Both of them look vaguely surprised to see me but then relief blooms over their faces.

  “Where have you been?” Azmos demands, sounding strangely like my father, and equally worried. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” I say. “What happened to you?”

  He waves his left hand in dismissal. “When her people tried to grab me at our planned meeting, they did not do so gently.”

  “He’s being modest,” Gabriel says. “One of them shot him in the arm.”

  Azmos is wearing a long-sleeved shirt but neither arm is in a sling and if there are bandages, they aren’t bulky. I wonder if demons scar, and if Azmos has any. My own scar is covered by my jacket sleeve, a long white gash along my arm that stands out against my beige skin. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m all right.” Even though he looks fine, I’m relieved to hear him say it. “Gabriel was kind enough to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding.”

  Gabriel shrugs, like this is par for the course. Maybe it is. Maybe when he warned me about getting caught up in the arcane, this is what he meant. Maybe I signed up for having bullets and punches flying around me. I swallow, shifting uneasily on my feet. Being punched and shot and tied to chairs is not exactly what I expected when I asked Azmos to be his assistant.

  “Xanan was shot, too,” I say. Azmos doesn’t look concerned. “Is he going to be okay? He seemed… well, fine.” The fact that I’m worried about the vampiric demon who happily put Rayna down like a rabid dog should say something about how screwe
d up the whole situation is. I know he had to do it but that doesn’t make it hurt any less or ease my guilt.

  “Xanan can withstand a lot,” Azmos said. “He is not like me, but all demons are hard to kill. And I’m fine. I won’t be trying out for professional baseball any time soon, but fine.” His joke falls flat but trying to tell one at all proves he’s not bleeding to death beneath his shirt. “What about you, Nicolette? Are you hurt?”

  “No.” My wrists ache where the zip ties cut into them but my ankles are just a little bruised, my boots protecting them from equal damage. But I haven’t been punched, stabbed, or shot, so comparatively speaking, I’m peachy.

  I tell them about how I was grabbed and how Vessa wants Az to bow down to her while she takes over Seattle with her undead (half-dead?) army. How most of her lackeys are only loyal because they don’t know the rules of her magic—how could they?—and they’ll do what she says if it means saving themselves. I tell them about Rayna, too, and Gabriel shakes his head sadly. Azmos remains stoic but he’s fraying on the edges. I can see all of this wearing on him.

  “So what does she want?” Gabriel asks. “She builds an army of followers and then…” He twists his hands, palm-up.

  “To rule the world, no doubt,” Azmos says, like he’s tired of thinking about it.

  “Ruling the world is kind of vague,” Gabriel says.

  “She didn’t exactly give me a manifesto or a list of goals,” I say. “She’s…” I search for a word, ice sliding down my spine as I remember her fingernails clawing my cheeks. “Unhinged.”

  “She is deluded,” Azmos says, matter-of-factly. He turns his gaze to the window. Lights dance on the Sound and a white-and-green ferry cuts through the black water, sailing off to one of the nearby islands to bring commuters home.

  “That’s one way to put it,” I say, mostly under my breath. Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “You saw her. She won’t listen to reason. She believes she can become a god. And she has her followers convinced that if they step out of line, they’ll drop dead, so they won’t cross her.” An acrid burn climbs my throat and I swallow it down. “And the ones who don’t believe are just terrified of being shot in the face.”