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As we hit the polished wood floors, I skidded to a halt, catching my breath. The bar patrons were crowded against the back wall, huddled together, looking terrified. Some were trying to edge toward a side exit, but for the most part, they clung together in a little clump, afraid to move. I turned to see what was holding them hostage.
At the front of the bar, a demon watched them, his head bobbing back and forth like a cobra in front of a snake charmer. There was no passing for any generic Supe with this creature. He looked like the full-fledged demon of nightmares—with smoky skin, and coiled horns rising high over his head. His skin, leathery and taut, shimmered across muscle hard enough to beat a sledgehammer against. He towered seven feet high on cloven hooves, and his hands bore long, razor-sharp nails.
And he was standing over one very dead body.
“Sure enough, that’s a demon all right . . . I think.” For some reason, he didn’t seem to have quite the same energy as most of the demons I’d met, but they weren’t all alike, I reminded myself. And besides . . . if it looks like a demon, and it fights like a demon . . . then it’s probably not a duck.
Derrick, the werebadger bartender, had wedged himself between the patrons and the demon, a sawed-off shotgun aimed at the creature. I bit my tongue. That gun had a better chance of tickling the hell spawn than it did of hurting him.
Menolly gazed at the body on the floor and let out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’s one dead elf, all right.”
I nodded. “And one freaky-assed demon.”
We were too late to help the elf, but with a little luck, we might be able to prevent wholesale carnage. We spread out, motioning for Derrick to move to one side. He waited for Menolly’s okay, then nodded and stepped out of the way. As I turned toward the creature, I wondered just what kind it was. There were as many types of demons as there were spiders, it seemed. Unfortunately, we’d become familiar enough with some to name them on sight, but this one . . . I was clueless as to what we were dealing with.
Vanzir could have told us what we were facing, but I really didn’t feel comfortable having him and Smoky in the same room just yet. Smoky still didn’t know what had happened between us, and I intended to keep it that way, at least until I could ensure he wouldn’t go wholesale whomp-ass on Vanzir.
Menolly snarled. “What the fuck are you doing in my bar? Get your ass back to the Sub-Realms, and tell Shadow Wing we said hello.” She strode forward, but the demon raised his head and his gaze caught her full on. She let out a squeak and dropped to the floor.
I rushed over to help her, but before I could get there, she scrambled back up and shook her head, looking stunned. “What the hell . . .”
Damn, this was not the time for Morio to be laid up. Our death magic was far more powerful than my Moon magic, and we might be able to corral the demon with a spell. But he still had a long ways to go before he was healed up and would be out of commission for at least three or four more weeks. The hungry ghosts from our last skirmish had siphoned a dangerous amount of life force off him and left him bedridden for now.
“Stand your ground.” The creature spoke. “I bring you a message from Trytian.”
Trytian? Holy crap, this thing wasn’t a demon—it was a daemon! No wonder we hadn’t been able to tell what it was. Daemons and demons tended to be enemies, and the daemons were not thrilled with Shadow Wing moving in on their territory. They had formed an underground resistance movement, along with some of the unhappier demons, and were working against Shadow Wing the way we were, both down in the Subterranean Realms and here, Earthside.
Well, they weren’t exactly following our model. Not so much. We tried to avoid collateral damage. They didn’t give a fuck.
“What does he want?” I didn’t trust Trytian. Not only was he a daemon, but he’d tried to blow us up when we were fighting Stacia Bonecrusher, a lamia/demon general/necromancer Shadow Wing had sent to destroy us. She’d turned rogue, but that hadn’t meant she’d played things our way. Trytian had joined forces with her till we squashed her flat. Now he and his forces weren’t exactly on the best of speaking terms with us, but we’d reached a rudimentary truce.
“You are the one named Camille?”
I nodded.
“I speak with you. Alone.”
Alone? No way in freaking hell was I cozying up with this creature alone.
“Um. Can I just say, no and are you out of your mind? Trytian has to know better than that. Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of the others.”
I backed up, motioning for Delilah to get out of the way. If he could knock a vampire off her feet with just a look, I didn’t want to see what he could do against someone who was still alive.
“You wish me to speak freely in front of all of these patrons? You really want them to know about Shadow—”
“Stop!” I glanced back at Menolly, and she read my expression.
We couldn’t let him talk about Shadow Wing. No one in the general public knew that Earth was on the verge of a demonic war. Yet. And we were inclined to keep it that way in order to stave off panic. We were slowly gathering our allies, but no way in hell were we prepared to fight any sort of a demon army at this point.
“You can’t seriously be thinking about talking to him in private? He’s already killed one person.” Menolly pointed toward the dead elf. “Just what are we going to tell Queen Asteria? Oh, she’ll believe us, but do you think she’s going to be thrilled?”
er 1
Home.
There it was—waiting for us. Home, with smoke drifting from the chimney and an array of multicolored sparkling lights surrounding the porch. From the driveway, the three-story Victorian shimmered like a beacon, both on the physical and on the astral. Flares of energy shot up like sunspots. I leaned back in the car, smiling. Home. Our haven against the demons.
A dragon built from snow guarded the lawn and driveway, rising stark and white out of the banks piled high around the yard. My herb garden hid under the creature, nestled under mulch until spring. Winter had claimed the land, full force, and we were getting hit hard. La Niña held sway, and we were all her toys. At least it wasn’t Loki this time. The Norse giant had brought unnatural amounts of ice and snow with him a year ago, until we’d dispatched his servant, a vampire named Dredge.
