Demon Song

Warren shook his head. “She’s still a werewolf. We don’t need that kind of attention. A demon-possessed lycanthrope would make national news.”



Should I tell them or not? Well, it hardly mattered anymore after the news report. But there was no reason they had to know it was my doing. “They probably already know. I take it you haven’t been listening to the news.”



Both men turned to me with concern, but it was Warren who spoke: “The news?”



I shrugged as though I was just repeating what the radio had told me. “I heard on KSML that a warrior priest was found dead near the zoo. The local police and the Feds are putting together a task force to go inside.”



Jones pulled out his cell phone with lightning speed and clicked on the Internet icon. His home page had reports scattered all over it, so apparently it was national news now. “What the fuck?” He stood in a huff and bolted up the stairs, the phone to his ear.



I shrugged innocently. “Guess he hadn’t heard.” I sat down on the stool Jones had vacated and looked at the second monitor. Kevin was pacing the cell like an animal in a cage, reminding me so vividly of the people in the zoo that I felt a pang of revulsion, coupled with anger that I hadn’t been able to help those inmates. “Is Kevin having the same problems? Did the demons possess him, too?”



“No,” Warren said with frustration. “It’s not demons. In fact, it’s his own damned fault he’s still in there. He needs his Vaso, but he won’t tell us who he or she is.”



I reared back and looked at El Jefe. “Why not? Is it some sort of secret that they’re not supposed to tell?”



He let out a small growl and the hand that was nearest mine on the desk clenched into a fist. “No. There’s nothing in the societal rules that says it has to be a secret. Normally the wolf tells his or her close family in case they need to contact the Vaso when there’s an emergency. We thought it was you, but if it’s not … well, I don’t know why Kevin won’t tell us. Or at least me.”



Actually, I had a pretty good idea, based on what Edgar had said at the mall. He’d claimed I’d been protected by my status as Kevin’s supposed Vaso, but I was betting it was also because I was usually armed. Whoever Kevin’s Vaso was, he didn’t want to put them in danger. I motioned toward the monitor. “Is there a speaker in there? Can I talk to him?”



Warren nodded and toggled a switch on the board before speaking: “Kevin? Celia’s here. Do you want to talk to her?”



Kevin stopped in mid-stride and turned with unnatural slowness toward the camera set far up on the wall. “Celia?” His voice was low and gravelly, as though he was barely hanging on to his human form. “Get her. Send her here.”



“Who? Your Vaso? I don’t know who she is.”



“At least we know it’s a she now,” Warren said under his breath. “That’s more than we had ten minutes ago.”



Kevin’s eyes were like twin stars of energy, supernovas ready to explode. That couldn’t be healthy. “You’ll know if you think about it. She’s the only logical person. Send her here right away and make sure nobody follows her. Lead them away. Do anything you have to do to keep her safe.”



What? So once again I was bait? I was supposed to think out the solution and risk my neck. I could hear the sound of my own anger when I responded, “Why the hell should I? I don’t even get a thank-you for getting your ass out of the prison and taking a bullet in my shoulder before you’re sending me out again to die? Fuck you both.”



That took some of the starch out of both of them. Kevin reared back in surprise and Warren’s eyes went wide and panicky. “Celia,” Warren began.



“No. Seriously. Who elected me the sacrificial lamb?” All my pent-up hurt and anger came roaring to the surface. Of course, it was getting closer to sunset, which probably didn’t help. And I hadn’t eaten since I woke up. But the words were no less true because of all that. Sudden tears stung my eyes and my words were daggers laced with poison: “I trusted you. Respected you. Hell, I’ve idolized you since college, Warren.” I pushed back the stool so I could stare at Warren’s shocked face. “That night, you betrayed me and destroyed every single warm feeling I ever had for you. I’ve never gotten an ‘I’m sorry,’ a thank-you, or even an acknowledgment that you made a mistake. I don’t know that I can ever forgive you and can’t imagine why I should ever help you—either of you—again. Get yourselves out of this mess.” I stood up and stormed toward the stairs just like Jones had.



Kevin’s growling voice stopped me: “You would have done the same damned thing.”



I turned and gawked at the screen even though he couldn’t see me. “What? You really have gone insane.”



His eyes were burning bright but with intensity rather than power. “If you’d known me back when your sister had been kidnapped, you would have taken the same chance. You would have known that I’d constantly beaten the odds and triumphed when everybody said I would fail. You’d know that I could take care of myself long enough to get everybody out alive. I’ll admit that the sister I promised my dying mother I’d protect is more important than you. And if you can’t admit that yours would have taken the same place in your mind, then you’re just lying to yourself. I’ll thank you, but I won’t say I’m sorry, Celia, because it was the highest compliment I could have given you.”



Bringing Ivy into this was a low blow. If his intent had been to throw a spear at my heart, he’d succeeded. But if I were going to be honest … If I’d known a skilled werewolf who could have skewed the odds enough that Ivy would still be alive today … what would I have done? Who would I have thrown, unknowing, into danger to save Vicki? Or Bob Johnson, who’d died in my arms the night I was nearly turned? The words came out of my mouth and they were so calm and soft that at first I didn’t realize I’d spoken: “You’re wrong.”



Warren was standing back, letting Kevin and me have it out. I could see regret and pain in his eyes. I honestly don’t believe he realized that he’d lost my trust that day and the consequence of that was just coming home to him.



Kevin just shook his head and snorted. “No. I’m not. You’ve thrown plenty of people into the line of fire for your own plans. Don’t give me that holier-than-thou bullshit.”



I walked back to the monitor but then decided instead to go to the door. There was a small bulletproof glass window set into the silver steel. I had to go up on tippy-toes to see inside, but I wanted him to see my eyes—so that he would believe what I was saying. I knocked on the glass and he turned to meet my eyes. I spoke loudly, in case the mic wasn’t strong enough to reach across the room. “Yes. I’ve thrown competent people into danger. I freely admit that. But they agreed to help. That’s the difference. I haven’t hijacked them against their will. I haven’t dismissed their intelligence. I wouldn’t have done what you did and people wouldn’t have died.” His face showed sarcastic disbelief. “Okay, fine. They might still have died. You say you paid me a compliment by trusting my skills. But you decided my intelligence couldn’t be trusted. That hurts. Face facts, Kevin. Your ego is why that plan failed. You thought you had it all figured out, thought nobody could be smarter or better. You couldn’t accept that a friend of your little sister, the sister who needed your protection, might come up with a useful strategy. That she—that I—might be just as smart and competent as you. So tell me, what makes me suddenly competent? The fact that you’re stuck in there and can’t do it yourself? You have to trust me because there’s no other choice? Well, guess what? You may not have a choice. But I do. So. No.”



I could see the final blow strike home as his eyes went from angry and self-righteous to shocked beyond words. I turned away. Warren couldn’t even look me in the face. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a quiet voice break the silence behind me: “I’m sorry.” Warren’s apology sounded sincere, but I wasn’t ready to hear it.



“You should be.”



Jones was at the top of the stairs when I got there. “Remind me never to piss you off,” he said with raised brows. “But you do realize he’ll go insane if we don’t find his Vaso. The Company will put him down if that happens.”



I hadn’t known that. It didn’t change things enough, because most of the problem was still due to his stubbornness and his ego. “Then he should probably tell you her name. It’ll speed up finding her.”



A wry smile turned up one side of Jones’s mouth, but there was as much anger as humor in it. “He doesn’t trust me.”



I shrugged and adjusted my ball cap for the long walk back to my car. “Neither do I.” My hand was on the doorknob when something occurred to me. Jones was staring at my back. I could see his reflection in the glass, and his face held both confusion and thoughtfulness. “But … I’m not heartless. I’m willing to find the Vaso.” His brows rose until I added, “For a price,” then lowered in suspicion and anger.



“You don’t seem the mercenary type.”



I turned and stared at him calmly. “I’m not. I’m the self-preservation type.” I told him about my little run-in with Edgar the previous night. By the end of the story, Jones was openly growling and the flames of magic in his eyes were licking at his pupils. “So. You tell me what Edgar is trying to get from me and I’ll find Kevin’s Vaso. You refuse and so do I.”



His lips pursed and I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was nothing if not a smooth negotiator. “What makes you think I know?”



I chuckled. “Call it a hunch. He didn’t want my knives, even though they qualify as artifacts. The only other thing I have of any interest is the Wadjeti the sirens gave me. Is that what he wants?”

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