Demon Mistress
Page 25

Just then, Smoky stepped onto the astral again. “Come, Menolly. I’ll take you over.”
As I moved toward him, Roz and Vanzir vanished. Smoky stopped me. “We need to talk a moment now that they’re gone.”
“What’s going on?” He sounded so serious that he had me worried.
“You are making a mistake if you sleep with the demon,” he said.
“Which one?” I asked. “I’m a demon. Roz is a minor demon, too. And Vanzir—”
“I’m speaking of Vanzir. Rozurial is an incubus, and while I find him annoying, he’s basically helpful and listens to reason. Vanzir may be bound to you and your sisters, but he’s still wild. Think twice before opening yourself to him. The vulnerability may be more than you care to risk.”
As he stared down at me, I saw a kindly streak flash through his eyes. Usually, Smoky treated Delilah and me like hangers-on. Oh, he was nice enough, but if it weren’t for Camille, we knew very well he wouldn’t be helping us. But this expression—it almost read as caring.
“Why are you telling me this? Why do you care?”
He laughed then, low and throaty. “You are my wife’s sister. So now you are also my sister. Families matter to dragons. And so I protect my family—all of you. Come, Menolly. Let’s get back to the infirmary and see how Camille is doing. I want her to stay safe, if she’s to be the mother to my children.”
“What?” I stared at him. “Camille can’t interbreed with dragons!”
He grinned. “There are ways. Trust me, there are ways around the problem. But for now—no talk of it. She doesn’t need anything else to worry about right now. That’s for the future.”
As he enfolded me in his arms, I was stunned at his little announcement, yet things were much clearer. Smoky had claimed Camille. He may not be her only lover or husband, but he took his claim seriously.
Delilah and I also had a claim on her. Therefore, since we were bound to Camille, we were bound to Smoky, and in a way I’d never expected him to accept. And Morio probably felt the same way—and Trillian, too, which is why he’d been helping us out. Feeling less alone, I closed my eyes as we shifted off the astral, back to Camille’s side.
Camille was sitting on a table, wincing as Sharah tended to her burns. The red had faded somewhat, and I could see they were superficial but still painful.
“You won’t scar, not if we get this ointment on and pump you full of tegot tincture,” Sharah was saying. The tegot plant was a natural antibiotic that worked wonders on both Fae and mortal alike. “Meanwhile, you rest for twenty-four hours and stay out of trouble. You can’t risk spreading the damage any further.”
“But Menolly needs me—” Camille started to say.
“Stop,” Morio said, his voice firm. “Delilah can help Menolly now that the Karsetii is gone. It might come back, but you can be sure it will take awhile to heal and regroup after what Roz told me you did to it.”
“The fox is right,” Smoky said, pushing through to her side. “You will rest tonight, and if you don’t, I’ll tie you up and leave you in bed.”
“Like that would be anything new,” Morio said, grinning. “But don’t sweat it, Camille. We’ll help Menolly, too. All of us.”
“Not everyone. Someone has to stay home and protect Iris and Maggie and Camille, since she can’t fight.” I looked at the men standing there. “Morio, you stay with her. Smoky and Roz can shift over to the astral plane, and we may need their skills in that department. Vanzir knows Demonkin. So that leaves you on the sidelines this time.”
Morio nodded. “No problem.”
“Okay, first things first. We know that Harold Young is summoning demons. We’ve got to sneak into that place and see what they’ve got hidden in there.” I glanced at the clock. Midnight. “We have time. Let’s swing by the bar, grab Delilah, and head out. Harold won’t be expecting us again, and with our luck, he and his buddies will be out partying.”
“I’ll see that Camille and Morio get home,” Chase said. “Give Delilah a kiss for me.”
Smoky, Vanzir, and Roz fell in behind me as we headed out the door. It was time to get some answers and start putting this puzzle together.
Delilah jumped a mile high when I unlocked the panic room door. She’d been lounging on the sofa, scarfing a bag of Cheetos and watching a DVD, Jack Black’s School of Rock. Yeah, that was my Kitten, all right. She dusted her hands on her jeans, leaving a bright orange smudge, and broke into a wide grin.
“Did you get it? Can I come out?” She grabbed me and gave me a tight squeeze before I could disentangle myself.
“Well, we didn’t kill it, but it’s gone for now, because Camille fried its ass. But we’ve got work to do. Get your coat and come on.” On the way, I filled her in on what was going down—or at least everything we knew.
“So, the Dante’s Hellions are the ones responsible for the current mayhem,” she said.
“Yeah. And they’re real whack-jobs.”
“How are we going to work this?” Delilah glanced back at the men. “No offense guys, but Menolly and I are a lot quieter than you are. We can sneak in, no problem, but you get to clunking around there, and we’re going to have a mess on our hands.”
Smoky harrumphed but remained silent. Roz sighed. Vanzir just snickered.
“Here’s what we’ll do.” I parked the car a block away from the house. “You and I will sneak in. Meanwhile, the three of you . . . oh hell, we may need you to fight, but Delilah’s right. We all can’t sneak in there until we know what’s on tap. Stay close to the house and keep an eye out for trouble.” I didn’t like splitting up, but Delilah was right. We’d never get in there with these three. The bickering alone was worse than a gaggle of geese.
“I don’t like it,” Roz said. “We’ve snuck into places before—like the place with the venidemons—”
“Excuse me,” I said, “but you did not sneak into that house. From what I heard, you barged in, tore through the joint, and ended up alerting every creature that was there. For this operation, we require subtlety. You three remain on watch and use your common sense.” I gave them a second look and shook my head. “Whatever scraps you can scare up between the lot of you.”
We climbed out of the car and headed toward the frat house, keeping to the shadows. Somehow, Smoky managed to hide, even with his brilliant white clothes. Of course, the Moon was nearing full, splashing her light on everything and everybody around.
We skirted the house, looking for any way in from the outside other than the front door. After a moment Roz pointed to the left side of the back porch. A door led beneath the porch steps. Bingo.
“Okay, you guys keep your eyes open and stay out of sight.” I quietly opened the door and peeked in. The cubbyhole was about ten inches taller than me at its highest, right against the house. I motioned for Delilah to watch her head, then slipped into the opening. She followed suit and closed the door behind her.
While neither of us could actually see in the dark, our natures made us much more attuned to dim light. A splash of moonlight washed through the steps, and in the silver glow, the broken beams showed us the outline of another door, this one leading directly beneath the house.
I tugged at it. There was a padlock holding it shut. I was about to break it when Delilah held up her hand. She pulled out a playing card-sized case from her pocket and quickly picked the lock. Opening the door, I slipped through, and she followed me.
While I’d expected to find a typical crawl space, I hadn’t counted on an opening in the floor that was obviously well-used. An attached ladder offered access, and I peeked down into the hole to find it led to a tunnel, approximately ten feet down. The tunnel appeared empty, so we scrambled down the rungs.
Two strings of Christmas tree lights ran along the passage, one near the ceiling, which was about seven feet high, and the other near the floor, which was compacted dirt that had been covered with wood planks.
I hesitated, motioning for Delilah to stand still, then listened as hard as I could. Delilah was listening, too; her ears had perked up, and her eyes were closed. She was probably smelling the air, too. Together we made a good team, though Camille with her sense of all things magical didn’t hurt us any, either.
“You hear anything?” I whispered.
Delilah shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
I nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s get a move on.” I cautiously made sure that I kept to the wooden boards. Who knew what was hiding in the crannies between them? Viro-mortis slimes made their home in the area. And there were other creatures—not all necessarily magical—that could pack a punch. Hobo spiders for one thing, and rats.
As we picked our way along the tunnel, I wondered how long this had been here. Harold may have taken over the house four or five years ago, but the tunnel itself—even the wood used to make the walkway—looked far older. The dirt walls were hardened, compacted in a way that only time could produce.
As if reading my mind, Delilah whispered, “I can sense age here. Age and . . . death. A lot of death.” She shivered. “I don’t like this, Menolly. There’s been a lot of pain soaked into the land here. Camille could probably feel it more than I can, but it’s so strong that it practically reeks.”
I closed my eyes, trying to sense what she was talking about. Usually, I drew a blank, but this time a few things did filter in: energies I was familiar with. The scent of spilled blood—both old and fresh. The ripple of Demonkin energy in the air. The subtle flow of a breeze that told me we were headed for a large chamber where the air was circulating.
“Come on,” I said, motioning to her. We descended along the sloping passage. I tried to estimate how far belowground we were. We had to be at least fifteen to twenty feet below the house, but I had the feeling we hadn’t reached the bottom. How was the foundation staying put? Or was this like some cockeyed basement?
The tunnel came to a halt at a T. It turned to the left and then curved toward the right, spiraling down like a conch shell. I looked to the left and, remembering the layout of the house on the lot, figured that it would take us under the street in front of the house.
“Sewer?” Delilah whispered.
Of course! I motioned for her to stay put and jogged down the tunnel, only to find myself facing a door. I cautiously opened it just a crack, and sure enough, the smell of sewage filtered through. A glance toward the roof showed rungs leading up to . . . yep . . . a manhole. So this part of the tunnel gave them access to the streets from below.
I hurried back to where Delilah was waiting and reported my findings to her.
“But why would they need it? Why not just use the front door?” she asked.
“Maybe they don’t need to use it. Maybe whoever lived here before had some reason for it? It occurs to me that it would make the perfect way for a predator to come and go. Maybe a serial killer.”
Delilah shivered. “I don’t like that thought. This group is bad enough.”
“Yeah, well, remember their families contained a number of members, all belonging to Dante’s Hellions.” I wondered how far back this whole setup went into Harold Young’s family traditions. His uncle had owned the house and Harold had to learn those demonic rites from somebody. Somehow, I didn’t think years of playing Dungeons & Dragons or Diablo had been of much use in that department.
I motioned to the right, and we headed down the spiral. Delilah reached out and touched my arm.
“One minute. My cell phone’s on vibrate, and I’m getting a call. I can’t believe it’s working down here. They must have some sort of technical setup to receive calls belowground.” She answered, speaking in low tones. “Yeah, we’re fine. So far, so good.” She quickly described where we were, and I realized that either Smoky or Roz had called her. After a moment she hung up. “Smoky. Wants to know why we haven’t checked in.”
“Oh good gods, he really does consider himself our big brother,” I said, grimacing.
Delilah laughed softly. “Actually, I kind of like it.”
“Yeah, you would.” I flashed her a grin. “Okay, let’s go find out what’s at the end of these stairs.”
We coiled downward, the tunnel now a true circular stairwell, the shaft dug straight out of the dirt. As we came to the end, I could see a metal door leading into what was probably another tunnel.
By now, I’d lost track of how far we were beneath the ground, but the airflow seemed fairly brisk, so the place had to be well-ventilated. I glanced up at the ceiling, looking for vents. Sure enough, running along the wall, spaced every ten feet or so on the way up, ran a series of ducts. Whoever had built this underground lair had been serious. And they must have had money.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs and quickly stepped back against the side of the wall. Delilah joined me. We waited, listening. In the distance, the faint cadence of voices rose and fell. I couldn’t tell just how far away they were, but I was ready to assume they were up to no good and therefore worthy of caution. I pressed my ear against the door then, but nothing filtered in from directly on the other side. With a glance at Delilah, who nodded her head, I carefully turned the wheel and opened the door a whisper.
A silent wash of air rushed past us, and I peeked through. The tunnel I had been imagining wasn’t there.
Instead, I found myself staring at the metal walls of an underground complex. Faint lights—like the Christmas tree ones, only round—ran along the ceiling in two strings. The corridor led straight ahead, and I could see doors spaced along the wall farther down.