Beauty's Beasts (22 page)

Only, he didn’t bring the gun to bear on Nicholas. Natan was in the way. Riley realized the barrel was swinging around to point at her, the
real
target of Azazel’s plans.

Time jumped out of its rails and slowed down to a crawl.

There was nowhere she could run that Azazel could not track her with the gun and shoot anyway—and Lirgon was right there and waking. He would kill her if Azazel did not manage to hit her first.

Lirgon
. The gargoyle’s eyes were beginning to gleam as he reared back, stretching his wings, looking down at the dramatic tableau beneath him.

How much did Azazel want to protect his pets? How instinctive was it?

Riley recalled from the very first day she had trained with Nick the moment she had caught him off guard by jumping inside his defenses instead of farther away. The unexpected move from the smaller opponent using the stabbing sword.

She surged hard to her right,
toward
Lirgon, moving as fast as she could. She slapped her foot onto the creature’s bent thigh, using it as a stepping stone, then pushed herself upward with a hard thrust of her leg. She threw her left arm around Lirgon’s massive neck, hooking herself there.

Lirgon reared back even harder. His wings flapped forward and around in front of him protectively. It was instinctive, as he tried to grab at the woman clinging to his neck.

Azazel’s gargoyle toxin pellet struck Lirgon’s leathery wings and whined away harmlessly.

Riley had the katana in her right hand, down low, in a stabbing grip. She looked into Lirgon’s eye from about six inches away. There was intelligence there. And fear.

“Remember me?” she asked. She thrust the sword up under the muzzle, and kept pushing deeper, higher, until the hilt rammed home. Then she twisted.

Lirgon screamed. He staggered backward, flailing at her and the thing in his head, trying to reach her. But she pulled the sword out and dropped to the ground and let herself roll safely out of reach of the staggering monster.

She looked around for Nick.

Azazel stood with his gun to Nick’s chest. His face was writhing with fury. “I will have your flesh for my walls for this!” he screamed at her.

“Kiss my ass,” she told him.

Nick smiled.

Natan tugged at her arm. “The others! The others!” he wailed.

There was a crash and the musical notes of breaking glass as the other skylight was thrown aside. The five leaderless gargoyles were clambering out and taking off into the night air. “I cannot tackle more than one a night, Natan,” she told him. “I was lucky with Lirgon, as it was.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Nick said.

Lirgon lay still and silent on the gallery floor. Black, oily stuff oozed from his body. Gargoyle blood? Riley presumed so. She stared down at the creature, her heart pounding, listening to the sudden silence.

Her parents’ killer lay dead at her feet. She had achieved what her mother and father had been unable to do.

Her body began to shake. Riley looked at Nick. “It shouldn’t have been so easy.” Even her voice wobbled.

“It wasn’t,” he said flatly. “You don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” She hugged herself, as cold seemed to seep into her bones. Ice shards were pricking her skin.

Nick’s eyes were that of the master swordsman. The hunter who had seen it all. “Your speed. Your agility.” He spoke with the flat tone of sincerity she had come to rely upon as the rock bottom truth. “You have inherited the greatest talents your parents could have given you, and tonight you used them all. I gave you the one advantage I could never give your mother, Riley. For the first time in the history of their species, I was able to give you the gargoyles’ nesting location. But you used it in a way she could never have.” He waved towards Lirgon. “Natalia would not have thought to move closer to her enemy. If she had, fear would have stopped her from executing the move.”

He dropped his hand and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Your courage is probably your greatest asset and I had nothing to do with that at all.”

Azazel made a noise in the back of his throat, a disgusted sound. “If you’re done with the hearts and flowers?”

Natan moved to Azazel. “Let them go. You have nothing left to punish them for.”

“Natan, shut up,” Riley said sharply.

“Yes, and exactly
who
helped them bypass security so this disaster happened, I wonder?” Azazel asked, studying Natan.

Natan swallowed and took a step back.

“I see you’ve had a change of heart, Natan,” Azazel said. “Fame and fortune no longer your cup of tea?”

“Not at the price you ask for it,” Natan told him, lifting his chin.

“Okay.” Azazel turned the gun on Natan and fired, and the little man went down clutching his gut.

At the same time, a dark shape dropped through the skylight above them, landing right behind Azazel. Azazel’s arm, the one holding the gun, was wrenched back. Azazel cried out, his whole body arching as the black tip of an oddly-shaped sword punched out through his chest from behind. The sword ripped upward in a series of jerks that tore the chest apart and lifted him completely off his feet.

Azazel didn’t burst apart in blood and guts as Riley thought he would. He began to scream like a man on fire, clutching at the sword point.

“Iron through the heart,” Nicholas said softly.

Then the demon disintegrated like a paper-stuffed effigy on a bonfire, soaked in gas. He went up in silent flames that burnt blue and green, until there was nothing left but bright images dancing on Riley’s retina, blurring her vision. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes.

Damian stood holding the ancient-looking sword, watching them both warily. He was in black. Black jeans, black sweater, black sneakers. He was very alive. “Yes, it’s me. I know it’s a shock. I can explain.”

Nicholas dropped his broadsword, took three steps forward and drove his hand in a short, sharp upper cut to Damian’s chin. It was a sucker-punch. The exact same one Riley had given Nick not so very long ago. It rocked Damian back on his feet and made him stagger.

Nick rubbed his knuckles and looked at Riley. “You’ve got something there. It does help,” he told her.

Damian was flexing his jaw with his free hand. “I suppose I deserve that.”

Nicholas rounded on him. “You can
explain?”
Fury was etching lines beside his mouth.

Riley wanted to keep listening, but couldn’t. She sank onto the lounge pad as her knees seemed to suddenly give out. Noise was beating at her. The world seemed to be rushing around her with too much noise and speed. She held up her hand to try to make it stop.

“You need food, and quickly. Why didn’t you say something? Damn it, Riley, you have to give me a chance to get used to these things again.” It was Nick. His arm around her. Trying to lift her to her feet. Trying to cope. Sounding worried.

But Damian was there, too. She could feel him. His hand on the back of her neck. She nearly wept at the touch. “I did this,” he said softly. “Let’s get her home.”

“Someone take care of Natan,” she whispered.

* * * * *

In the end they all took care of Natan’s body. Riley’s momentary shock passed. So did Nick’s fury, when he saw her back on her feet. Damian stowed his new iron sword in the duffel with Nick’s and Riley’s and they put the gallery back the way it was supposed to be. There was nothing they could do about the broken glass in the second skylight, so they left it as it had fallen, to make it look as much like an accident as possible. They worked in almost wordless concert, holding off any discussion of Damian’s reappearance until they were back at the apartment and safe once more.

They weighted Natan’s body and lowered it into the East River. With the gargoyle toxin spread throughout his system, his remains could not be left for human authorities to autopsy.

On the taxi ride home, Nick drew Riley into his arms. She went willingly and resting her head against his shoulder. He kissed her. “You did it,” he said. “Do you know how proud I am of you?”

“Are you playing games, Nick?” she asked softly. “Because Damian is here?”

He smiled. “I don’t have to, do I?”

She threw her arm around his neck. “No.”

But she caught him glancing at Damian.

Troubled, she found she couldn’t look at Damian directly herself.

It was a long, silent trip home after that.

* * * * *

Nicholas barely waited for the door to shut before rounding on Damian a second time. He grabbed two handfuls of Damian’s sweater and pulled him closer. “How
dare
you let us think you were dead?
For five fucking days!
”

Damian didn’t resist the manhandling. “For two of them, I pretty much was. When Azazel shot me, I thought it was the end, too.”

Nick stared at him, clearly trying to make sense of it. “
Fuck!”
he said finally, disgusted. He let Damian go and walked away, frustration pouring off him in waves.

Riley curled up on the couch, hugging her knees. Abruptly, with both of them in the room once more, she felt like the mortal in the middle again. The only one without an agenda. The Nick she had fallen in love with had gone. There was just the old Nick, squaring off with Damian.

Damian was the key. She looked up at him. He was watching her. “I told you to trust me, remember?”

“You
planned
this?” She sat up.

“Not this exactly, no. But it helped.” He came and sat on the sofa next to her. Not close enough to touch. But close enough that she felt small. She could remember being in his arms. Remember his cock sliding into her. His kisses.

“Damian, you don’t just get to just shrug off leaving us thinking you were dead for five days,” Nicholas said, his voice dangerously soft and calm.

Damian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial with a black plastic lid, about two inches high. It held a brown colored liquid. He tossed it to Nicholas. “Remember that? I found it in the casket with the house wards, when I was placing them on the windows and doors after Azazel made his appearance. When we went to see Natan that day, I took some.”

“What is it?” Riley asked.

“Gargoyle anti-toxin,” Damian told her.

Nicholas held up the bottle. “This has to be thirty, forty years old.”

“At least,” Damian agreed. “I didn’t know if it would work. It was sheer happenstance that I took it. We were heading into gargoyle territory and the last time we did that I got my guts ripped out, so I thought I’d try it. As it was, the anti-toxin is so old, it took two days to counter the poison.” He grimaced. “I had forgotten what it is like to be genuinely sick.”

“But you would have recovered at least three days ago,” Nick said, putting the bottle on the dining table. He still looked grim.

“Azazel was watching this apartment and every move you two made. Why would I ruin the one genuine advantage you had by letting you, and Azazel, know I was really alive?” Damian lifted his shoulders, a tiny shrug. “I was still weak and recovering, but even then I knew I would rather put you through a few more days of misery than show my hand to Azazel. It was a tactical advantage that won the game, Nick. We could not have killed Azazel otherwise.”

Nick shoved his hands into his pockets. Riley knew that look. He was upset. Damian was making sense, but Nick was hurting about this.

“You don’t understand, Damian,” she said softly. “It wasn’t just five days of misery he felt—”

“No, Riley,” Nick said shortly. “Don’t.”

Damian leaned forward. “The demon has been dogging your steps for nearly forty years. He’s had a hand in the killing of the people you loved the most.” He lifted a hand, a helpless little gesture. “I
know
the hurt I caused you. I, more than anyone…” He glanced at Riley. “Except maybe Riley, now. We know what you went through the last few days. But I thought it was worth it to rid the world—to rid
you
—of Azazel for once and for all. Christ, Nick, for all the people he’s killed—Peter, Carson, Tally and the others—”

“You,” Nick said hoarsely. “It wasn’t worth it if you were part of that price.” He moved toward Damian slowly, as if he were dragged there against his will. When he stood in front of Damian, he reached out with equal slowness to push his hand into Damian’s thick black hair. His hand clenched, gripping tight, and he bent and kissed him.

Damian groaned and his hand clawed the sofa.

Riley flinched. She had guessed her position correctly. She was the disposable mortal. Now Damian was back, Nick had forgotten her.

She made to rise from the couch, but Damian’s hand shot out and locked about her wrist. He broke the kiss and turned to look at her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Riley fought hard to keep her voice even. “You don’t need me,” she said politely.

Nicholas straightened. His eyes were sleepy. Aroused.

Damian’s thumb smoothed over her wrist. She hated that it made her nerves sizzle. “You and Nicholas are lovers now,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

She looked Nicholas in the eye. “Were.”

Nicholas swallowed. “Riley…”

“I don’t want pretty speeches, Nick,” she said tiredly, pulling her wrist from Damian’s grip. “I’ve had my fill the last few days. I don’t think I could stand another one.”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “No!” he said desperately. “That’s not what this is. Damian, for god’s sake, what game are you playing here? You’re pushing the pieces around and I don’t want to play anymore. Not if it means losing Riley.”

Damian’s face lit up. He surged to his feet and caught Nick’s face in his. “Say that again.”

Nick pushed him away. “You heard well enough.” He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of Riley. “I meant every word I’ve said, Riley,” he said gently. “I always do.”

Tears were burning her eyes. “But you love Damian,” she told him. “I saw the look on your face just then. Having him back now that you’ve lost him has taught you exactly what he means to you. You want him back, Nick.”

He sat back, silent.

The tears slid down her face. “You need to be with him,” she told him. “You always have.”