“They’re quite rare, yeah? Heavily hunted in the last few centuries. Endangered species.”
“Well, that makes me feel great.”
Doug sniffles. “I can tell.”
There’s a booth ahead of us covered by a thick velvet curtain. A man—human—stumbles out with a dazed expression. He blinks several times, then catches us staring and blushes deep red, hurrying in the other direction.
“What’s in there?” I reach for the curtain.
“I wouldn’t.” Doug gestures for me to follow. We duck behind the booth and see a grublike creature getting plumper as we watch. It’s as big as my thigh, and the impulse to step on it is almost overwhelming. Except then I’d have it all over my boots, and I really like these boots. Also, I’m trying really hard not to have violent impulses in here, just in case the door guardians can come inside.
It’s … harder than I want it to be. None of these demons are hurting me—or at least actively hurting me, because sucker-hands definitely didn’t have my best interests at heart—but I can feel something building in me the longer I’m in here. My hands crave a weapon. It’s not that I’m nervous or worried. I’m ready. Eager, even. And that is enough to make me nervous and worried.
“Feeds on lust,” Doug says about the maggoty thing. “Go in that booth and it’ll project whatever will trigger the most lust in you. I mean, if you want to find out …”
“No. Nope. Super nope. All the nope in the whole world.” I don’t even want to imagine what I would see in that curtain. And I definitely don’t want to imagine whatever I see and feel making this horrid, bristle-covered grub fat and happy.
I know the only person I’ve ever truly lusted after. The idea that I might see Leo makes me feel sick inside for any number of reasons. I want to see Leo again, but not like this.
“Most of them work in the high-end gentlemen’s clubs. This one is probably young, using the convention as an audition.” Doug leads me back out to the floor. Then he brightens and shouts. “Jason! Jason!” He waves to a demon with the same coloring. They cross the floor and grab each other’s necks, pressing their foreheads together so their horns touch.
“Doug! We thought you were dead!”
“May as well have been. How are you? How’s Janet?”
“Fantastic! We had a litter!”
“No! How many?”
“Twelve! Eleven boys and one girl. Here, I have photos.” The other demon pulls out his phone and swipes through twelve identical photos of neon-yellow babies carefully swaddled and staring solemnly at the camera. Their skin is solid, no black cracks running through it, and their horns have barely broken through.
“Cute,” I say. And I mean it. They are pretty cute.
“Thanks! And you are …” He wrinkles his nose and looks in alarm at Doug. “She’s a dine and dash, right? You’re not feeding off that regularly. You’ll make yourself sick.”
“Rude.” I’m more offended than I should be, but it gets old being told you’re not delicious.
Doug covers quickly. “Sorry, right, Nina, this is my cousin, Jason. Jason, Nina. Nina’s my friend. She saved me.”
“Saved you from what?” Jason asks.
I shuffle awkwardly. “Do you two need to catch up? I can give you a few minutes.”
Doug squeezes my shoulder gratefully. “Don’t wander too far. Don’t let anyone touch you if it seems like they really want to.”
“And be sure to hit booth seventeen,” Jason says.
“Do not hit booth seventeen,” Doug corrects, glaring at his cousin.
“What? She could use some.”
Doug points out where they’ll be—a group of chairs near the far wall—and I agree to meet him in half an hour. I don’t mind wandering on my own. Doug can get info on anyone Jason might know who needs help, and I can stare. I recognize only a handful of the demon varieties here. I’m a little offended on my Watcher heritage’s behalf, but the truth is we only focused on the most common and most threatening. There are more demons and more hell dimensions than we could ever truly catalog. That won’t stop Rhys from trying, though.
At first it’s fun, like wandering through a department store all decked out for a baffling holiday. But after a while I notice the bright exteriors and fun booth designs aren’t matched by the general tone of the demons.
I catch several hushed conversations trying to locate missing friends and relatives. The closing of all portals and hellmouths left so many demons orphaned here. Two demons huddle, their heads close and their fingers linked. I could swear they were crying, and the waves of sadness coming off them are almost palpable. I reach up to find tears streaming down my face.
The waves of sadness are palpable. I turn directions quickly, needing to get away from them before they suck me in. A booth ahead has the biggest human crowd of any I’ve seen. There’s a banner above advertising autographs and photos for twenty quid a pop. I can’t figure out who here would be able to charge that. The signs all feature a beautiful blonde and a stylized title card for something called Harmony Bites.
I edge around, trying to get a peek at the blonde to figure out why she would be here. But it’s not her behind the table. It’s a demon, pinkish, with big floppy ears and folds upon folds of drooping skin. He’s totally bald but wearing a garish suit and holding a kitten in the crook of his arm.
“Clem!” a woman shouts. “Clem, marry me!”
“Get in line, sweetheart,” he says. “No, seriously, get in line. There’s a line.”
“How long are you going to be filming here?” A young man leans against the table, all eyes on the blonde in the photo above Clem’s head.
“Just as long as it takes us to finish up the special, Vamping London.”
“She’s not really a vampire, though, is she?”
Clem winks. “No, and I’m not really a demon. I just wear this every day for fun.” Everyone in front of the table laughs, but it’s an uneasy one, and I can see several of them frowning as they try to puzzle out whether he’s joking.
A vampire has a reality show? Really? We have got to get cable at the castle. Vampires were messed up by the end of magic too. They can’t sire any more like themselves. Any new vampires turn out as zompires, mindless beasts. No old vampires are willing to sire now; the more notoriety they get, the more dangerous it is for their survival. Apparently this blonde didn’t get that memo, or doesn’t care.
As a Slayer, do I have a responsibility to hunt her down? If she seems to have a body count, I guess maybe I should. I decided to be a different type of Slayer, but if I let a known vampire go free and she kills even one person, isn’t that death partly my fault?
“Come closer.” A gaunt, grayish man leans in my direction, and I’m grateful for the table between us. His booth has a large sign that says DIRECTIONS. DIRECTORY. TRANSLATION. ANSWERS. Underneath are a series of incomprehensible pictures that seem to be giving instructions, but I can’t for the life of me understand them. He breathes in deeply, licking his lips.
I don’t want to know, but I ask anyway. “What do you eat?”
He grins, revealing bare gray gums. “Confusion. Usually I linger at tube stops frequented by tourists, but I could live for years off you. How much you want?”
“What?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “How much? You’re here as a pet, right? Whoever’s your leech, I’ll pay more. One-year contract. All you have to do is exactly what you are.”
“Nah, girl, listen here!” A demon with skin the color and texture of white mold growing on bread has stopped and leans too close for comfort. I take a step back. “You’re guilty.” He grins, leaning in even closer. “You reek of guilt and shame. I’ll take all your guilt. Every last drop of it.” His tongue flicks out, thin and purple and forked at the end. “Think of how lovely it would be to live free of that.”
I fold my arms over my chest protectively. Much as I’d love to give up this guilt, I need it. It drives me, directs me.
And combats the anger. If I could live guilt-free with what I’ve done, I’d be a monster.
How many of the humans here actually know what’s going on? How many of them sell their emotions and feelings for a wad of cash? It’s one thing for Doug to feed on happiness without taking it away. This is something else. That new viciousness nestled inside me flares, and I see these two demons for what they are: predators. They might not kill people, but if they really can permanently suck away my guilt or confusion, they’re taking something that makes me me. That makes me human. Just because it isn’t blood doesn’t mean it’s not part of me.
I take a step forward, eyes narrowed, and think of the last time I saw Leo alive. The moldy demon suddenly puffs up like a sponge absorbing water.
“Too much,” he gasps, turning and stumbling away.
The gray demon has backed against the wall of his booth, hands up pleadingly. “Go. Just go. Don’t want nothing from you.”
I walk on. Apparently now I give off enough spiky, angry energy that the majority of the demons turn quickly away from me, giving me a wide berth. I duck between booths, trying to catch my breath. Who here could need my help? Who here even deserves it?
Maybe Artemis is right. Maybe I really am only helping myself.
10
DOUG IS IN A GOOD mood when I meet back up with him. Which makes me worried for a new reason. Will I have to let another friend leave? I don’t think I can handle it right now. “Do you want to go with him? Your cousin?”
Doug must feel my concern. “Aww, you’d miss me! Don’t worry. We’re generally solitary. Makes it easier—more food that way, less likely to draw attention. Plus, he’s got a lot of mouths to feed now. Lucky strike, finding a mate. His kids are pretty accurate of the gender breakdown of our species. Not many girls. I’m just glad I know he’s okay. And he gave me a lead.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Course there’s the usual disappearances. That’s normal. Loads of missing demons ever since the portals closed, but that’s down to being cut off with no communication. I asked him about incubus and succubus types, though, because you got me wondering. And he said there’s a rumor that someone is hunting for them. Lots of demons going into hiding because of it, but no one can say exactly who it is they’re afraid of. No name.”
“But we know someone who looks for specific types of demons!” I snap. “The dude the mercenaries were hunting for! Van Alston!”
“Von Alston. The one your mother told us not to go near. And wasn’t he only looking for werewolves?”
“Yeah, that we know of. But if he’s in the market for one type, doesn’t it make sense he’d be in the market for others?”
“Does it, though?” Doug seems genuinely puzzled by my leap. But it’s the only lead we have, the only connection. I know it isn’t a solid lead, but I want it to be. I need it to be. And it really does make sense that if some dude pays for one type of supernatural creature, odds are he’s paying for others, too. Or at least knows how to find them.
“Is there somewhere quiet we can go? I can’t focus in here.” My mother was very clear that we should stay away from Von Alston. But who knows how many demons or werewolves or other vulnerable creatures he’s holding? If I can’t go after Sean, why can’t I go after some rich creep? Are we really going to take more money from someone like that?
Then again, my mother was right. We don’t have many—or really any—allies these days. We’ve been in hiding for so long, everyone assumes we’re dead. Which we meant to happen. So is it worth potentially saving a demon or two to alienate one of our only remaining contacts? Am I only doing this on the off chance I can get information about succubus and incubus and cambion demons out of guilt for letting Leo die?
I glance over my shoulder, paranoid that the confusion demon will smell me from across the floor and come to eat.
Doug leads me out a back door and we end up in an alley between buildings. A few demons are smoking near us. Literally smoking, the smoke trailing up from their skin instead of from cigarettes.
I pace. I don’t know what the right choice is. Do I go against my mother—with whom I’m finally beginning to develop trust? In the past when she told me not to do things, she had her reasons. And I know she cares about demons. She’s the one who helped Doug in the first place.
Would I be endangering us if I went after Von Alston? All for the chance of finding a type of demon I know we can’t take into Sanctuary and who probably won’t give me answers about Leo even if they have them?
Artemis’s accusation punches me in the gut. This really is about me. This whole trip. I don’t care about helping any of the demons here. I just want closure, desperately, and I’m willing to paw through the absolute dregs of demon society to find it. Gods damn it all, Artemis left! She doesn’t get to show up for twenty minutes and be right about everything.
The door we came out opens and the drooping-skin demon, Clem, nearly stumbles into me. He has a kitten half pulled out of his pocket. It mews frantically. He leans against the wall, stroking the kitten and lifting it to his face.
A drawing in one of my research books flashes in my memory. Before I can stop myself, I snatch the kitten out of his hands and hold it against my chest. “No!”
He flinches, then stares guiltily at the ground. “Sorry. Sorry. Terrible habit. I keep trying to give it up, but the pressures of my life, I tell you. And the camera adds twenty pounds of skin folds.” He rubs his face. “Thanks. Yeah. No more kittens. Just fear from now on.” He looks up hopefully. “You aren’t scared of me, are you?”
I raise a single eyebrow. He sighs.
“Your Harmony vampire,” I ask, reminding myself that whatever else I am, I’m a Slayer. “Does she eat people?”
“Harm? Nah. I mean, she’s not as vegan as she pretends to be. But you can’t quote me on that. Still, she’s careful. Only kills in self-defense. She likes fame more than blood. And more than me.” His droopy face droops further, every line a frown.
At least I can cross that off my to-do list. I don’t have time to hunt a reality-show star. Besides, it’s not like I’m the only Slayer out there. Someone else can worry about D-list celebrity demons. We really should have a text chain or something to assign tasks.
Doug ignores Clem. “Any idea where this Von Alston lives? Maybe we could snoop. If he is the one they’re whispering about, he’s bad news and we should do something. And if he’s not, we haven’t hurt anything.”
“Are you talking about Ian Von Alston?” Clem asks.
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah. What do you know about him?”
“Oh, he’s dreadful. Kept trying to hire Harmony to do a private party. You know what that means with these rich humans. I didn’t even send her the offer. She has no idea how much I protect her from.”
“Do you have an address for him?”
He eyes the kitten in my hands. “What’ll you give me for it?”
“I’ll give you a heaping serving of not beating the crap out of you.” The edge I say it with surprises me. More Artemis than me. Or maybe … more Athena than Nina. I lean into it.
Doug coughs to cover up a laugh. “She’s a Slayer, mate. You should probably tell her.”
“A Slayer!” Instead of looking intimidated, Clem brightens. “Do you know Buffy? I haven’t seen her since Sunnydale was swallowed whole! It was a simpler time back then. Just a demon, trying to make it on a hellmouth. None of the cameras and the fame and the love of my life who can’t see me, you know?”
Doug and I share an awkward glance. We actually do know. We both nod encouragingly.
Clem continues. “Anyway, you should have said you were a Slayer. Slayers and I go way back. Here.” He pulls out one of his cards, scribbling an address on the back. “If you see Buffy, tell her Clem says hello, would you? And if you see that good-for-nothing peroxided nightmare of a vampire, tell him I haven’t forgotten he owes me ten Scottish Folds and three Siamese. Gets a soul and thinks all debts are crossed off. I’ll have
those cats from him, diet be damned.” Muttering to himself, he heads back inside.
“That was really weird.” I stare at the door. The three smoking demons have gone back in as well. Only one demon is left out here with us, a human-looking woman in a black cloak leaning against a wall. “Right? It’s not just me. That was weird.”
“Demon conferences tend to be.” Doug holds out the card. “Let’s go see whether this collector has managed to nab any nasty incubuses or succubuses—succubi? Incubi? Succubussesses? No wonder they’re going extinct, what a nuisance. Hopefully it turns out Von Alston has something less nasty and easier to say. Or that he actually is a friend, he’s not the nameless threat hunting for demons, it’s all a misunderstanding, and he gives us a check for no reason.”
“One of those giant cardboard ones. With lots of zeroes. Maybe then we can finally fix up the tower section of the castle.”
“I call dibs if we do. Always wanted a room in a tower.”
“No way. I’m the Slayer. I get the tower room. Assuming it ever isn’t a total crumbling safety hazard that would get the whole building condemned if anyone actually knew the castle existed.” I pause, nuzzling the purring kitten. “Aw man. Now I really want a tower room. Let’s go see about that imaginary check. Or demons, I guess. Whichever.”
We turn to find our way blocked by the woman in the cloak. “Doug!” she says brightly. “Fancy meeting you here!” And then, knife in hand, she lunges.
I shove Doug out of the way so hard he slams into the wall and slumps to the ground, winded. The woman dodges me, blade winking wickedly in the sun. I’m still holding the kitten. It purrs, a soft warm ball against my chest. I duck a slash of the knife, spin left, and kick at the woman’s leg. She jumps, landing neatly and punching me hard in the side. I shift to protect the kitten, then toss it gently onto Doug’s chest.
“Okay.” I hold up my fists. “Now I’m ready.”
She comes at me with a flash of menace and metal. I twist and turn, working backward, leading her away from Doug. When she’s far enough that she can’t hurt him—or the kitten—I stop so abruptly she stumbles, confused.
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