by Chloe Garner
“Renouch,” someone said. “I should have known you’d come make the rounds.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“Because he’s missing,” the voice said, hissing the ‘s’. A walrus of a man separated himself from the table. “Deal me out for the next one, boys.” He opened a door, spilling faint, orange light across the dark room, and holding his arm out. “I thought you’d be a few days though.”
“Why is that?” Samantha asked, walking past him into the next room. Jason made sure Carson made it in front of him, letting Kelly fend for himself.
“I thought it would take that long for the squabbling to settle down and for the rest of your play-sheriffs to realize they didn’t want this job.”
“What job is that?” Samantha asked, settling onto a suede black couch. Jason took a spot standing behind her and Carson sat next to her, taking in the room. Jason’s eyes never left the huge black man who arranged himself into an armchair across from Samantha. Kelly wandered the office, looking at things unapologetically. The man glanced at Kelly with annoyance, then looked back at Samantha.
“Carter’s.”
“I’m here to keep the peace and make sure everyone knows I won’t tolerate a deal happening, here or anywhere else.”
The man shifted, posing with his chin on his fist.
“Since when have you cared about peace?”
“Since I don’t want a demon war happening in the biggest city in the world, and spilling over into the innocents.”
“You really are sentimental, aren’t you? Calling New Yorkers innocents.”
“They’re free to make their own choices. You start causing collateral damage, I’ll hunt you down and kill you. Not that I mean that as a personal threat, of course.”
“Of course,” he said. He looked up at Jason. “I understand that one, and the angel confirms a few things, but…” He looked over at Carson, who spread his arm across the back of the couch and lazed back into the corner, crossing his legs at the ankle and smiling at the huge man like either an idiot or a master.
“Should I ask who the demons are that you’re out there playing cards with? I think I saw a few new faces,” Samantha said. The heavy brow furrowed, and he turned his lips up at one corner.
“These are zodiac curls,” Kelly said. “You’re not supposed to be able to get them anymore. We wiped them all out.”
“They’re very old, child,” the demon said. “Come sit down on the couch next to mommy where I can see you.”
Kelly ignored him.
“Sit, Kelly,” Samantha said. The angel glitched onto the couch, doubtlessly with bad grace, though Jason couldn’t see it from where he stood. The demon chuckled.
“What do you want from me?” the demon asked, rotating the solid mass of flesh that sat on his shoulders to look at her again.
“Continuations of all contracts you had with Carter,” she said.
“You don’t know even half of what you’re asking,” he said. “You don’t know what you’d be committing to, even if I did agree to it.”
“The ones requiring payment of services can wait. You know which ones I’m talking about.”
“That’s bad faith,” the demon said. “Expecting me to pick the ones that you want me to live up to, without enumerating them.”
“And still,” Samantha said, “that’s what I’m doing.”
“I’ve never known you to operate in bad faith,” the demon said.
“Breaking the contracts would be your bad faith, not mine,” Samantha said. “Until proof of death, you still have legit contracts with Carter. I just wanted to remind you of that.”
“So you can play in daddy’s shoes, and expect him to keep paying all the bills?” the demon asked. “Clever. What would you consider proof of death?”
“You know that the entire demon world is going to know the instant he dies, because someone’s going to collect the contract.”
The demon scratched the skin where, somewhere deep down, there had to be a chin, and he nodded.
“And what if he isn’t Carter anymore?”
“I assume your contracts considered all contingencies,” Samantha said. “If there is proof of possession, then he will re-emerge, and you can act accordingly. Until then, you are bound by your contracts, and I will do what I can to uphold his end of them, within my…” she paused as the demon sat up in his chair. “My discretion and my willingness to participate in said contracts.”
“You’re going to pick and choose,” he said.
“As you say, I don’t know what the half of it is.”
There was a faint smile on the wide lips, and then a nod.
“When he turns up dead, you and I are going to have a long talk. You aren’t him.”
“I thank my creator for that every morning,” Samantha said, standing. “You’ll tell your friends out there that I expect the same from each of them.”
“We’re not dealbreakers,” the demon said.
“No, you don’t write deals you’d ever need to break,” Samantha said. This elicited a full smile from the demon, who stood and opened the door back into the dark room. Jason followed Carson closely back through the room and into the main card room.
“Any of that make sense to you?” Carson asked.
“More than you’d think,” Jason answered.
Out on the sidewalk, Samantha looked up at the sky. Clouds were gathering there and darkness was setting in.
“I guess we can go get Sam,” she said, then looked at Carson. “Do you have anything completely ridiculous to wear?”
<><><>
They moved Abby to Carter’s apartment and left Kelly there with her. The angel didn’t like it, but Samantha told him they were going to a demon club where she really couldn’t get him in, and, with application a forceful enough tone, he finally agreed to stay and watch over Abby.
Sam had slept well at her apartment. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d been exhausted, and the bed felt good. When Samantha and Jason got back, he’d expected Jason to be the next one down, but his brother acted like he wasn’t even feeling the two days without sleep.
At Carter’s apartment, Samantha went into her room and changed into a simple, black satin dress that clung to her legs when she walked. She went through the bag Carson had carried upstairs with him and pulled something out.
“This. Go put this on.”
Carson reappeared in a cream-colored suit.
“Why do you have that?” Jason asked. Carson tipped an imaginary hat and grinned.
“I like to go out in it sometimes. It stands out.”
“Yeah it does,” Jason said. Sam switched into a black tee shirt and black jeans, feeling more in his element when he came out of Samantha’s room. This was New York, and demons liked blacklights.
“I’m fine,” Jason said, shrugging to settle his shirt.
“Whatever you like,” Samantha said. “You’re on your own for credibility.” She kissed Abby’s cheek. “Good night, love. Don’t wait up.”
“Don’t keep them out too late,” Abby answered. Samantha turned to Kelly.
“No one in or out. Not even delivery. She eats what’s in the refrigerator. Someone glitches in other than Maryann, you kill first and ask questions later. Yes?”
“As you say,” Kelly answered.
“And if my head starts spinning, throw salt at me,” Abby said.
“What will that do?” Kelly asked.
“Nothing. I just want to see if you’ll do it.”
“He will,” Jason said. Sam grinned.
Samantha locked the door behind them, putting her palm to the smooth black surface and focusing. Sam could nearly describe the mechanism that locked that door, having felt her lock it so many times before, but now it was just her hand on a door, with nothing but his eyes to describe it.
“So how did today go?” he asked as they got onto the elevator.
“Dude, your life is weird,” Carson said.
“Yeah,�
� Sam answered, wondering what had happened.
“We just went to see everyone,” Samantha said. “Well, a lot of them. I wanted them to know I’m here.”
“Why, exactly?” Carson asked.
“Carter keeps everyone in line,” Sam said. “With Carter gone, there are going to be a lot of demons thinking they can get away with things that they normally couldn’t. So Sam is showing off that she’s not going to give them an opportunity.”
“I was hoping we’d get more of a chance to ash demons,” Jason said.
“Aren’t you always?” Samantha asked. “Tomorrow. I’ve got a few in mind. Tonight, I’m just putting on a show of force.”
“With just the three of us?” Carson asked. The elevator door dinged open, and Jason nudged Carson as they got out.
“What the hell, dude?”
“No offense, but if we’ve been hanging out with demons all day, we’re seriously outnumbered. And if they’re so tough that a gun that shoots steel bullets won’t put them down,” he said, taking out the gun Samantha had given to him and looking at it, “I’m not sure I get what we’re trying to prove.”
“Put it away,” Samantha said. “New Yorkers are pretty touchy about guns.”
She picked up a phone hanging on the wall in the garage and held a button, listening for a moment.
“Yeah, it’s me. Will you send someone over?”
She hung up, and a demon Sam recognized, but whose name he didn’t remember, appeared.
“Where to?” he asked, going to the box of keys on the wall.
“Toby’s club,” she answered. Sam grimaced. It was one of his least favorite demonic establishments. The main room was huge, a converted theater, but lit with laser strobe lights and full of demons who liked to dance with Samantha. In a room full of humans, she was awkward, trying to enjoy the music and dancing, but not wanting to attract too much attention and certainly not wanting to dance with anyone. She didn’t really like to be touched by strangers, and the intimacy of dance was beyond the pale. Demons, though, had different rules. It doesn’t count with a demon. She danced recklessly with anyone there, man or woman, making Kara look like a prude. The first time they’d come, Sam had preferred Jason dancing with her, it had been so bad. Since then, they’d been back a few times, but never back into the main room. Samantha hadn’t wanted to dance, and Sam hadn’t wanted her to.
Now, though, in her sleek black dress, he knew why they were going. He’d never seen the dress before; he’d only seen her in a dress the one time before, the white one she’d worn when she drove Maryann gray. There was a significance to it that, while he couldn’t put words to it, he recognized it none the less.
The demon dropped them off at the underground entrance to the club and Samantha led them through the dark guts of the old theater, up a set of worn red-velvet stairs and into the foyer outside of the main theater. Music thumped loud enough that the doors wavered. Samantha reached up and took the hair pin out of her hair, shaking her dark, wavy hair loose. Relief swarmed back and forth along the bond as they found each other again, like they’d been holding their breath.
There you are.
“All right, whoever you are. If you’re watching, I want you to watch close, and you tell them what you see. I want them to hear about this.”
She sent him curiosity and concern, and Sam flipped his glasses down for a moment, expanding his awareness of the theater, searching the dance floor and the maze of rooms and hallways behind and below it, then out into the streets surrounding the massive building. He found demons - lots of them - and a few things that, on a dull night, he and Samantha would have gone to punish the demons involved, but nothing that alarmed him. Samantha sent him confirmation, and he pulled his glasses off, hanging them on his shirt.
“What is this place?” Carson asked.
“Abandoned theater that Troy bought and renovated,” Samantha said. “Demons don’t sleep, so the ones who are most involved in human society tend to come out at night like this and act like demons for a while.”
“What do you mean involved?” Jason asked.
“Troy owns half a dozen warehouses at the port, with a bunch of proper demons running them,” Samantha said. “Ozy owns maybe thirty franchise fast food restaurants in town. I know demons who have been on the city council; a bunch of them are on boards for Fortune companies.” She looked over her shoulder, standing at a door. A demon in a tuxedo eyed her passively as he kept watch over the atrium. “What? You thought they just hung out in abandoned buildings all day, waiting for nightfall? They aren’t vampires. They’ve all got day jobs.”
She pulled the door open and cold, foggy air rolled out. Today was Tuesday. Sad that that was how Sam recognized the days of the week.
Tuesdays, fog machines covered the tables in a thin mist, controlled with a carefully balanced flow of air off the dance floor and out through the ceiling. Samantha grunted.
“Tell them to go turn those off,” she said to the demon. He considered her for a moment.
“I’ll tell Troy you’re here.”
She took that as agreement and went into the theater.
Toby was up on his throne on stage, wearing a white leopardskin mantle and loose black silk pants, looking like an over-accessorized rapper. That about fit Sam’s opinion of the demon. Troy was one of Samantha’s more complicated relationships.
Samantha found a table - Sam hadn’t yet figured out the decisions that governed where they were supposed to sit, but he did know that there were more wrong answers than there were right ones - and sat, holding up a hand for a server.
“Drinks?” she asked. Sam and Carson ordered beers; Jason and Samantha ordered liquor.
“I’d heard rumors that you drank hard, but I didn’t believe them,” Carson commented.
“Lover, I’d drink any and every Ranger you’ve ever known under the table,” Samantha answered, watching the floor. The music here was different from Nuri’s club, and most of the other demon bars. It was driving, energetic, intended for dancing, and Samantha was having a hard time keeping focus.
“Go on,” Sam said.
“Watch your drinks,” Samantha said. “The waitress will bring them clean, but making humans sick is a game here. They’re very creative.”
“I thought they just did that to you,” Jason said.
“They wouldn’t do it to you with Carter sitting with you,” Samantha said. “It’s complicated. I’m an open target all the time; without him, you guys are fair game, too.” She looked over her shoulder at the dance floor again, with a twinge of anxiety. Sam wondered what that was about. “At least for a little while longer,” she said.
She pressed her hair pin into Sam’s hand and left, finding her way to the center of the crowd with long, slow strides, letting the dress flare around her and breaking a rift in the crowd of dancers.
“She’s barefoot,” Carson said, sitting up. In the strobes, Carson stuck out like he had a spotlight on him. Demons at nearby tables were watching. It took Sam a second to process what he’d said.
“She’s what?” he asked, turning. Carson was right. The dress fell to Samantha’s ankles, and her feet, where the fabric flicked back to reveal them, were pale white. He looked under the table to find the tall, high-heeled boots she’d been wearing.
“Is that safe?” Jason asked.
“Would you step on her feet?” Sam answered, settling in his chair. The music had taken her, and she was teasing one demon and another into dancing with her, but they reacted to her dress like snakes, snapping away where the fabric would have touched them. Sam looked up at the stage to find Troy standing, the long mantle falling all the way from his shoulders to the floor behind him. It was part of the seduction. Samantha was very aware of the demon, but carefully avoided looking at him. She sent a question to Sam, and he snubbed her. He wasn’t playing this game. She was amused. Their drinks arrived and they sat, watching the dancers and the tables around them, not talking much because of the volume.
/> The song changed, and Carson sat up.
“This one,” he said.
“What?” Jason asked, sipping his drink.
“This one,” Carson said again. “Sam, can I dance with your woman?”
“Call me his woman again and I’ll skin you alive,” Samantha said from behind him. He spun.
“You told my mom you’d get me home alive,” he said, grinning.
“I never said I’d let you die,” she answered, draining her drink, and then Sam’s. “You want to dance with me, now is your chance.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said and stood. He glanced at Sam, who shrugged. Better than a demon.
Carson grabbed Samantha’s hand and she ran after him. The demons scattered away from the white suit and blond hair, leaving the two of them a wide space as the music built. Sam heard Jason order more drinks, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Samantha.
She’d lost track of where she was. The burden of whatever it was that she had going on inside her head was gone, as Carson led her through an elaborate sequence of steps.
“Damn,” Jason commented into his drink.
“No kidding,” Sam answered. “Did you know…?”
“Nope.”
The floor grew wider and wider around them as Carson’s tricks grew more dramatic, some on his own, but most of them with Samantha, as she started to bend time to keep up with him. The motions the two of them made didn’t make sense to Sam’s brain. Carson’s feet slid on the floor like there was no weight on them, and his hand found Samantha’s hand or shoulder or waist like he had put her there. For her part, Samantha rolled with the music like it came from inside of her body, her dress flashing in the lights and ripping along her calves as her bare feet skimmed the floor.
“It’s like watching her with Alexander,” Jason said.
“Thanks for that,” Sam answered. He heard Jason laugh.
“You said it was okay.”
It was okay. His problem wasn’t that she was dancing with Carson, or that Carson was dancing with her. His problem was that he couldn’t dance with her like that. Or any way at all.