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“Jaycee, I see you spend a lot of time at the Energy Exchange. Care to tell me more about the club?”
“Eat me out, pussycat.” She just glared.
“I’m more into men, thank you. But I’ll pass the invitation on to my sister, the vampire.” My gaze flickered up to meet Jaycee’s, and I saw the barest of flinches. So she was afraid of vampires.
After a couple of minutes of useless insults flying back and forth, Smoky frowned and slipped outside. I wondered where he was going, but the next minute he slammed the door back open.
“Get out here now—we need your help!”
Stuffing Jaycee’s wallet and information in my pocket, I gave her a dark glare and then followed him out of the room, along with Trillian and Shade.
There was a major fight going on near the portal. Three Tregarts were tearing up the place, while Kendra and Camille were doing their best to hold them off. Camille had her dagger out that Shamas had given her, and I saw slashes on one of the demons’ arms. Kendra was trained in martial arts and she was involved in a brawl with the shortest one—she’d just knocked him against one wall with an uppercut to the chin, but it merely stunned him for a second and he was charging at her again.
I unsheathed my dagger and charged in, helping Camille with her opponent. Smoky and Shade divided up on the other two, Smoky aiming for the one Kendra was fighting, while Shade and Trillian took on the third.
I managed to land a blow on the Tregart’s bald head, gashing a long wound on his skull. He groaned, staggering back. Camille rushed in, her dagger aimed at his heart. Her blade bit deep and he stumbled, grunting. But then he shook off the pain and gave a hard shove, throwing her back across the room.
A flash caught my attention, but I didn’t have time to look. I attacked the Tregart, slamming him against the wall, and drew my dagger across his throat as he struggled. A fountain of blood sprayed my face and shirt as the demon slid to the floor.
“No!” Camille’s scream echoed and she took off on the run toward the safe room. I whirled around to see Trillian and Shade following her. Unsure of what was going on, but trusting that it was something we weren’t going to like, I followed them as Smoky finished off his demon, his talons gutting him like a fish.
As I skidded into the safe room, I saw Shade and Camille grappling with another Tregart. Jaycee was lying dead on the bed, her throat cut from ear to ear. Shade caught the demon in a chokehold and, with one quick movement, snapped his neck. Camille knelt by Jaycee, then looked up and shook her head.
“She’s dead. He got to her before we could stop him.”
“Van sent an assassin to kill his own wife? Or partner? Or whatever the hell they are?”
“To keep her from talking, you bet he did.”
“Question is, how the hell did they know about the safe room? That we’d be keeping her here?”
“Oh great gods, I know how they knew!” She paled. “Remember when Trytian sent the daemon to warn me that Hyto was around? We brought him down here. And we let him go afterward. He must have talked about it in front of the Tregarts. And since the Tregarts are working both sides of the fence, they told Van and Jaycee about it. That makes the Wayfarer an effective target. They may not be able to destroy the safe room, but they can destroy this building and put us out of commission. And now the demons know there’s a portal down here, too.”
Holy crap, she was right. I sank down on the nearest chair. “But why haven’t they shown their hand till now, though? I’m surprised they haven’t charged in to destroy the place and take over the portal. They can get to Otherworld through it.”
Smoky frowned, then shook his head. “They may know about it, but they can’t use it to get to the Subterranean Realms. And that is where their focus lies. They want to start ripping portals open to bring a number of demons over Earthside. They don’t want to take a holiday jaunt to Otherworld. Not just yet.”
Shade nodded his agreement. “You’re probably right. Once they have a free-flowing portal between Earthside and the Sub-Realms, then they’ll be looking for a way over to Otherworld. And then, this portal—along with Grandmother Coyote’s portal, and all the others—will be targeted.”
I started to haul Jaycee’s body out of the room. “I’m not leaving her in there for Martin to feast on, regardless of how much we despise her.”
With a queasy look on her face, Camille nodded. “I’m going to go check on Kendra and make sure she’s okay. I suppose…we head back to the FH-CSI to see what’s going on with the protest. Then, we make plans for tonight. All roads are leading to the Energy Exchange.”
“Right…but we’re going in the back way. Through the entrance in Underground Seattle. And if we’re really lucky, maybe we’ll run into some more ghosts down there.” I grimaced.
Camille reached out and knocked on one of the walls. “Don’t jinx us, babe. Don’t jinx us.”
Kendra was fine. I told her to call in extra help, just in case the Tregarts returned. As we headed out toward the door, I asked her to call Peder, the day bouncer—who was a giant—and have him take Jaycee’s body and the dead Tregarts through the portal and dump them in OW, away from the city.
Once again, we were on the road. Traffic had picked up, and pedestrians were out in full force despite the wind and the chill. Men and women in three-piece suits hurried toward their jobs in the skyscrapers, shoppers in Prada and Armani scoured the boutiques, students waited for the bus, on their way toward the universities, their backpacks and Starbucks firmly in hand. Cars and Metro accordion buses crowded the streets as we edged our way through the morning bustle. The sky was overcast, but the rain had let up for a little while.
Finally, we were out of downtown Seattle and nearing the FH-CSI headquarters. As we pulled into the parking lot, I could see that the crowd had swelled even further. Andy Gambit’s supporters were backed into one small area of the lot by now, and the crowd protesting against the hate groups was a good four times their size. Someone was handing out papers, and I grabbed one as we headed in the building.
The headline read, Seattleites Refuse to Accept Hate Crimes or Rapists. That was promising. I scanned the story as we pushed through the doors.
Apparently, the city had been looking for a good cause, because the quotes supporting the Supe Community were coming from housewives, students, cops, and businessmen alike. The statistics showed what I’d thought: the Church of the Earthborn Brethren’s membership wasn’t nearly as big as they’d let on, and most of the people polled wanted to see them run out of town on a rail. They were just a terribly vocal minority.
“Hate can only exist where people refuse to speak out against it.” Chase had been quoted, and the picture of him standing next to Sharah spoke volumes.
