by Lee, Nadia
Tell me you want me, his voice whispered in my head.
N-no, I thought, apprehension and desire tearing at me.
I felt, rather than heard, his laughter, which reverberated over me like the hum of a vibrator. The way he’d brought down my defenses terrified me. It was as though I’d been trained to deal with house cats and suddenly turned to face a Siberian tiger.
His assault on my senses increased, the pressure on my crotch was unbearable. I wanted him to take me. Immediately.
Sex concentrated and began to congeal around us. He collected it and pushed it into me. I gasped at the burning invasion, was filled, stretched, expanding until I was shrieking with power. Then the Sex changed, turning bright and hard and ripping through my body like jagged razors of ecstasy, flaying me alive and twisting my insides until I thought I would explode. I screamed. The green canopy around us burst into flames. The sky collapsed in bricklike chunks of blue, revealing the dark red wall of psychic defense stretched tightly over my astral self—my ego. A fine tremor went through the shield, and my heart skipped a beat. I raised my arms like Atlas holding the heavens, whether in supplication or support I couldn’t tell.
Farewell, Ramiel’s voice whispered, caressing my dream like a promise.
***
I woke up on the floor in my study. Panting and soaked in sweat.
Damn it.
I got to my feet, staggering like a drunken sailor. My sex was swollen and moist, every inch of my body felt raw, and the damned demon was gone. I had no idea where to find him so I could wring his neck. I glanced at my hands. They weren’t burned as I’d expected, but…the slimy feeling was gone. Weird.
And speaking of weird, how the hell had he gotten inside my dream? I thought back carefully. I hadn’t invited him in any way. He didn’t have anything of mine to create a link. And there was another line of defense in my home—Valerie’s wardings, the best in the business.
When I felt a little surer of my balance, I glanced at the ceiling, then stared with my mouth open. The wardings were intact, which was impossible if I’d been dream-invaded.
How…? He hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. I know a demon when I see one, and the thing that had just enslaved my senses definitely qualified. But the wardings had to have been broken in order for him to enter the condo and my mind. It was immutable law. I climbed onto a chair and touched the faint outlines on the ceiling. My hands trembled. The etchings and designs emanated more power than I’d ever experienced before—and they weren’t the ones Valerie had created.
I shoved some books aside to read the radio clock on my desk. 4:34 a.m. Still really early.
But hell, this was important.
Snapping my cell phone open, I speed-dialed Valerie’s home number. She picked up after the fifth ring.
“Hello?” came her voice, low and drunk with sleep.
“Valerie, sorry I woke you up, but it’s urgent.”
I could hear a querulous masculine murmur in the background. “Ashera? What the—I thought you were going to get some rest before tomorrow. Or is it today?” She punctuated the last sentence with a yawn.
“Someone broke your wardings and invaded my dream. You need to come see this before we go to TriMedica tomorrow.” I raked my hair. “Today. Whatever.”
“Excuse me?” She sounded more awake now. “No one breaks my wardings.”
“Well, someone did. And he redrew them before leaving. And the wardings are more powerful than before.”
Silence. The masculine voice muttered something, but Valerie instantly shushed him.
“You’re serious? Not just still mad about the client test thing?”
“I wish.”
“Okay. Sit tight and don’t let anyone or anything inside until I get there.”
She hung up without waiting for my response.
Valerie lived in Arlington. It should take her at least half an hour to get to my place, and the new wardings looked strong enough to hold off an entire battalion of demons.
Pulling my shirt over my head, I walked to the bathroom and tossed my clothes into the laundry basket. I wanted to erase every sign of his invasion from my body before Valerie arrived. It was disconcerting how my crotch was still slick and the need still lingered and burned low in my stomach.
An extra-cold shower was just the thing to get rid of all that. Once my body was clean and dry, I grabbed a new set of black Under Armour. No need to worry about color coordination—everything I owned was either black or blue. Well…I did have two pastel-pink silk skirts, but they didn’t count since they were birthday presents from Valerie. She insisted I ought to do something to “display my assets,” har har. She meant well, but I didn’t exactly embody womanly appeal the way she did, and I looked ridiculous in anything even remotely feminine. But a girl can run her hand over luxurious material and sigh.
The doorbell chimed.
Valerie was ten minutes earlier than I’d expected. Looking at her angelic face, you would never know that she was a speed demon and a terror on the road. Fortunately for her—and unfortunately for the rest of us—she always charmed the cops’ socks off and wiggled out of getting ticketed. Just once, I wished she’d get pulled over by a cop who was immune to her allure.
A fresh periwinkle Armani skirt suit was draped over her lean figure. And when had she had time to put on makeup? Maybe she slept with makeup on. Maybe she was born made up.
“So where is it?” she asked, walking inside. The only thing that betrayed her agitation was her hair. The chignon, which normally looked lovely, was coiled tight and gave her face a slightly harsher cast. I could smell a whiff of her signature floral and vanilla perfume as she moved. High-heeled, open-toe sandals elongated her legs, although they would be completely useless if there was an attack. I guess that’s why she has me.
“This way.”
I led her to the room in question. She glanced around the hall, checking all her wardings.
“These all held,” I said. I jerked my chin toward the study. “In there.”
Valerie’s eyes sharpened. She swore softly under her breath.
I shouldn’t have enjoyed Valerie’s irritation, but after what she’d done I couldn’t help it. Besides, it wasn’t every day you saw her be anything but poised and mildly pleasant.
She stepped through my clutter and examined the new wardings. They blended with hers seamlessly, but the magic signature was different. Her fingertips traced the intricate lines. They sparkled and responded to her touch but didn’t bend to her will.
“I don’t get it,” she said after a moment of examining them. “Who was it?”
“An incubus, or some other demon with incubus power.” Only incubi have the ability to invade dreams, although some demons can borrow it at an exorbitant price: a favor owed or worse.
She looked perplexed. “He came into your dream?”
“Yeah.”
“How? Did you invite him?”
“Of course not.”
“So how did it happen? Did he get some of your hair?”
“No. I burn all my loose hair. Shit, Valerie, you know better. I don’t even go to hair salons.”
“So what then? Fingernail clippings? Toenails?”
“I’m not some wet-behind-the-ears apprentice.”
Her gaze lingered over the frizzy ends of my hair and my stubby unpainted nails before returning to the wardings in the room. “Weird. It’s against everything we know about the laws of magic.”
“You think?” I realized I was pacing and stopped.
“Did he take Sex from you?” She looked at me hard then shook her head. “Never mind. You’re positively brimming with it. What happened?”
“Nothing. He didn’t try anything.”
That wasn’t entirely true. But he hadn’t extracted Sex from me or tried to kill me. Just the opposite, in fact, which was…strange. I didn’t want to dwell on that though, not until we’d figured out how he’d broken the wardings. Plus, Valerie didn’t ne
ed to know the details. It was totally embarrassing to be seduced by something I hunted for a living and the memory made me flush hot. I flicked away an invisible piece of lint on my shirt.
“Then why invade your dream?” She tapped her lower lip. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know. I can’t figure it out either.”
Valerie leaned against my desk and crossed her arms. “Maybe it’s a warning from Semangelaf.”
“Maybe. Do you recognize the magic signature on the ceiling?”
“No. Do you?”
I shook my head. “Can you tell me anything about it?”
Valerie gazed up at it, going into lecture mode. “The warding is dense, arcane, and contains an unbelievable concentration of power. I’ve seen similar ones in texts before, but they were just theoretical constructs. No human has enough power to even attempt something like this.” She shrugged. “It could be a new kind of demon we’ve never encountered before. Or it could be an agent of the dragonlord, or something else.” She looked at me. Else usually means worse.
I sighed. “I need some coffee. You?”
She nodded.
I left her in the study and went to the kitchen. I could see why she was worried. She liked money, but she also valued the safety of everyone who worked for the firm. It was one of the many reasons I loved her. A lot of things came easily for her—beauty, men, money, magical ability—and she could’ve been a complete bitch. But she was more human than almost anyone I knew.
Okay, except when she looked so damn perfect at five in the morning.
I stopped in the middle of opening the cabinet and swore. I’d drunk the last bit of coffee. What was the closest substitute? Coke, of course. Fortunately, the fridge had two cans. Other than that there was nothing edible. The last chunk of cheese was developing a nice green mold. I couldn’t remember why I’d bought it, since I rarely cook. Even though the Food Network was my second favorite thing to watch, none of the recipes came out right when I tried them. I tossed the cheese in the trash and took the drinks to the study.
Valerie sat behind my desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She barely noticed the can I placed next to it. I took a swallow of mine. It bit my nose and throat as it slid down.
“I think I figured it out,” she said finally, leaning back in the chair. Then she frowned. “I thought you were making coffee.”
“Sorry. I’m out.”
“This stuff’s going to stick to your hips.”
What, not drinking soda was the secret to her perfect figure? I glared at the can, then shrugged. “I’ll work it off.”
Valerie pursed her lips, but popped the tab and took a sip. “The designs are not exact duplicates of mine.”
“Okay.” I already knew that.
“If whoever did this wanted to fool you into thinking that the wardings were intact, it’d make sense to leave them with the same design, right? But no. So I diagrammed the new parts.”
Wardings are complicated. Each line and symbol means something, and everything is layered. Although individual warding practitioners have their own unique designs, the designs themselves have a lot of commonalities. They have to, in order to be effective. It’s sort of like a language. The basic sounds have to be the same to convey a meaning, but everyone has an individual accent and way of putting things. By diagramming a warding, you can tell a lot about what kind of supernatural it’s supposed to keep out.
“Look at this.” She used her pen to point at a circular snake with an eye inside. “It’s a wyrm ward. An immensely strong one that would take at least twenty warding specialists.”
Which meant it was only theoretically possible. Cooperation among hunters and supernatural experts isn’t unheard of. But put twenty supersized egos together and see if you can get them to agree on an exact warding design and the kind of magic signature to use and how much power to imbue it with.
That was why the firm sent out small teams for warding jobs, no more than five each. And those had generally worked together for years.
Valerie tapped the pen on other parts of the design. “All of these have different dragon wardings on them, in addition to the supernaturals I originally warded against.”
“Why dragons?” I traced the sketches on the cool paper with an index finger. “They never attack human homes.” It was part of the long-ago treaty signed between dragonlords and mortals. As far as we knew, it was still in effect.
“Exactly.” She peered at me, a speculative gleam in her eyes. “Have you formed an alliance with some benevolent supernatural?”
Benevolent supernatural. What an oxymoron.
“No.” I dumped some books off the desk so I could perch on it and tried to think. “Can these wardings turn into something else that can be used for black magic?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like them before.” She shook her head. “Look, let me replace the old wardings.” That made sense. Even though the new ones were more powerful, leaving them would be like having someone break into your home and then keeping the new locks he’d installed.
“And then maybe you should stay home today,” she continued. “Or just go to the office, whichever makes you feel safer. I’ll send someone else to lead the team on the Andersen job.”
“No.” Something wasn’t right, and I couldn’t help but think that I was missing a bigger picture. Call it professional pride. Call it curiosity. I wanted to be there myself.
Four
The TriMedica building stood tall near the I-66 exit in Arlington. Slender and cylindrical, it looked like a stack of enormous gold coins. Ostentatious cars of European origin sparkled in the parking lot. Private security had quarantined the premises to keep dragon groupies out. If traffic was any indication, the metropolitan-area population had doubled overnight.
At the entrance I showed my ID to a uniformed guard who bore a striking resemblance to a Doberman. He checked his list and waved me through.
Andersen and Co. were already at the “Command Center,” which was an office on the first floor of the main building. Yes, someone had actually put up a hand-lettered sign that said “Command Center” on the door. Despite the early hour, the place sizzled with anticipation and caffeinated energy. Valerie had already warded the sparsely decorated room. She was hunched over a pile of papers and talking on her cell phone, but glanced up at me as I walked in.
On the other side of the office, four men and women in black suits sat at small desks with their laptops. Andersen scowled in greeting. I wanted to ask him how he’d slept, but Valerie was coming and she frowns on baiting the clientele.
“Hey,” she said. “Take this before you have coffee.”
I stared at the bottle of high quality Sex. “Ew.”
“No whining. Everyone from the firm gets it.”
“Uh…I don’t really need it.” I already had more than enough, thanks to “Ramiel.” The memory of what he’d done without even touching me made my skin hot and tight. Oh you have it bad, Ashera. You’re in trouble. My sympathy for my incubus clients had suddenly increased exponentially. Incubus sex was like crack.
“Yes, you do. People are watching. Lead by example.”
Sure enough, the hunters’ gazes had zoomed in on our little exchange. “Ah hell.” I took the bottle and swigged it, taking care not to gag or make a face. Sometimes being a partner sucked. A lot.
The bitter liquid went down my throat and hit me like a truckload of caffeine. My hands started trembling. I’d never had this much Sex in me before, and I felt like people could see it leaking from my pores. Kind of embarrassing.
I wasn’t the only twitchy one. Several of Andersen’s buddies looked wired tight enough to snap. Nobody likes to deal with an unknown, and they had to cope with two: a dragonlord and outside consultants. The CEO himself, Bill Swain, probably wasn’t worried about supernaturals. They rarely attacked high-profile figures, types that might draw attention. Under current law, hunters couldn’t kill supernaturals without witne
ssing them violate someone first. But if all the legal restrictions were lifted, a lot of low- to midgrade demons would suffer. So supernaturals generally self-policed. It was the rogue demons that I had to deal with.
Dragonlords, however, were another matter. No mortal could hope to hunt one, legal issues aside. I hoped Swain knew that.
I gravitated toward the breakfast table, selected a warm glazed donut from a platter and chomped into it. So good. Nothing like pure sugar and trans fat to get a girl going in the morning.
“You ready?” Andersen looked exactly the way he had the night before. He might have been old, but he seemed tough enough.
I shrugged. “Does it matter? You can’t ask Semangelaf to postpone his visit.”
He scowled again. He was probably scowling when he popped out of his mother.
“So what time is he going to show up?” I said.
Right on cue, a woman announced from her desk, “He’s here.”
Great. Andersen swore and joined a few men at the woman’s station. I opted to finish my donut. I hadn’t brought my hunting gear, which would have been useless against a demigod. Instead I recited the words of draco perditio silently. I had no idea if I could actually make the spell work, but what else was there?
The firm’s hunters came to me for their instructions. All of them were young. All of them were smart and in shape. And although they were hiding it well, all of them were scared. Correction—almost all of them were hiding it well. There was a foot tapping ninety beats a minute in my peripheral vision.
It was Blake, one of our most junior hunters. I gave him The Stare, but he didn’t get the hint. Finally, the woman next to him put an elbow into his ribs. Blake started, looked at her, then me. The foot was still going, and I glared at it. The foot stopped, and Blake turned red.
Finally satisfied, I began my spiel, “We’re dealing with a dragonlord here. It’s not a matter of fighting. If we fight, we’ll lose. Our job is to make sure Mr. Swain and the rest of the TriMedica staff remain safe. So don’t do anything stupid, be respectful, and above all keep your mouths shut. Don’t give Semangelaf a reason to decapitate you.” I looked around. That last sentence had gotten their attention pretty well.