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Don’t I know it. The price of being a Watcher was never fitting in. The price of being a Slayer is never fitting in. And the price of an hour or two off from all my stress is a pounding headache. “So, where is this demon convention, exactly? Sewer? Cemetery?”
“A Marriott.”
“A what?”
“You know, the hotel chain?”
“Yeah, I know what a Marriott is. You’re holding a demon gathering in a moderately priced business hotel?”
“They’ve got good conference spaces, which can be hard to find in London.”
“Yeah, but … I mean.” I gesture at his face. “Are the other demons more human-passing than you?”
Doug grins. “Just wait. You’ll see.”
9
DOUG WAS RIGHT. I DO see. I just can’t believe what I’m seeing.
In the middle of the tastefully bland Marriott lobby, demons are … hanging out. Several are at the bar. A few are in the lobby chairs, laughing and talking. Most of the business travelers barely glance at them, or if they do, it’s with amusement and confusion rather than fear.
“Welcome to the Annual Makeup and Mask Special Effects Experts Conference.” Doug sweeps his hand to encompass the lobby and the hallway leading back to the conference area. His hood is down, his black lips parted in a huge smile. “AMMSEEC, if you’re a regular. Jokingly referred to as AMSEEKING, if you’re here trying to find a mate.”
“God, those horns are brill,” a young woman with a gorgeous Afro says, pausing to admire Doug’s rounded black horns. “And how do you get that cracking effect with your skin? It’s seamless. I can’t see any makeup lines anywhere!”
Doug winks. “Tricks of the trade. Did you visit the show floor?”
“You even did your teeth! Your whole look is deadly. Haven’t been on the floor yet. Just waiting for my mates. We come every year. Hopefully we run into you in there so they can see.”
“Enjoy!” Doug guides me through the lobby and into the hallway leading to the conference space. He breathes in deeply, eyes dilating as he sighs in satisfaction. “I missed this. Haven’t been in years. Not since—well, Sean wasn’t big on outings.”
“Speaking of, how do you know he won’t hit it? I’d think this would be like fish in a barrel for him.”
Doug nods to two massive shadows lurking by the open double doors to the largest conference room. I can barely make them out, they blend in so well.
“They sense malice or violent intent. I wouldn’t fancy trying to get past them. They’re at every door in or out. AMMSEEC has a perfect attendee safety record.”
I freeze midstep. “Um. Remember how I’m a Slayer? Somehow I’m guessing this isn’t a real Slayer-friendly venue.”
“Do you feel violent right now? Have malicious intent toward anyone in here?”
“No! No. We’re here to help. I want to help.” I really do.
“I can always dose you up again.”
“No. I need to be sharp.” Plus, I don’t want another headache. I’m still feeling a little Doug-hungover. I guess this will test whether being a Slayer means I’m inherently full of violent intent, though. I’ve felt so different since I got the power back. I walk stiffly, nervous, but the two shadowy figures don’t move. When we get through the door, it feels like I passed not only their test, but one of my own. I’m okay. I’m still me. Some of the tension between my shoulders eases.
“Of course,” Doug says, “a lot of the demons in here are violent. And malicious. You just can’t have any
active violent or malicious intentions.”
Okay, test not passed, then. I’m too overwhelmed and distracted to care much, though. The conference floor is bonkers. A few humans—or human-passing demons—wander, eyes wide and amazed. There are tables, displays, some full-on professional booths. Demons are hanging out on bar stools, in meeting spaces, laughing and talking and trading cards. It’s a sea of horns, tails, and even a few sets of wings. Every color of skin imaginable is represented. Doug isn’t even that cool in here. If I thought it was actually a makeup special effects conference, I’d barely bat an eye at him compared to the woman with her blue hair piled on top of her head to reveal three distinct faces. She turns in front of us, the face on the side of her head raising an eyebrow at me, and the face on the other side of her head winking.
“Let’s walk. I’ll look for anyone I know.” Doug strides confidently forward, and I stay close, though it’s hard with how much I’m staring. Rhys would kill to be here. We should have brought him. All this in-person research! I’m giving myself whiplash trying to take it all in.
“Can I read your palm, love?” A woman at a booth holds out both hands. She looks normal, except for the third eye in the center of her forehead. Other than that, she’s wearing a nice pin-striped suit with a jewel-green blouse on. I lift my hand.
Doug takes it and pushes it firmly back down. “Don’t want to do that. She’ll suck five years from your life.” The woman scowls, flipping him off. But as she puts her hands back down, I notice they’re covered in octopus-like suction cups. Which reminds me of someone else who seriously sucked.
