Night Veil (47 page)

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Authors: Yasmine Galenorn

BOOK: Night Veil
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“You can’t be serious. He’s already killed one person.” Menolly pointed toward the dead elf. We’d have hell explaining his death to Queen Asteria. She’d believe us, but she sure wouldn’t be happy.
“I have to.” I lowered my voice so nobody but the nearest Supes could hear me. “We can’t have anything come out in public.”
Smoky glowered. “Not
my
wife. Not alone with
you
. One other must join you and I claim the right.”
The daemon looked at him and sniffed. “Dragon. Silver dragon—and a
mix
at that. The world is full of half-breeds tonight, it seems. Two halves of a dragon, a dragon-shadow mix. Three human and Fae girls. Interbreeding weakens the strains, you know. But you, dragon, you are a lord among your kind. I do not play toad to royalty. There are reasons you will not be present, my own skin being one of them.” His voice was harsh, like the vocal cords had been burnt long ago, and he kept moving his head in a sinuous dance, as if he couldn’t keep it still.
“Then my wife does not attend you.”
“Actually, your wife will attend him.” I glanced at Smoky. “I have to—we
can’t
discuss these matters in public.” Turning back to the daemon, I added, “We’ll have our chat alone, but in a place of my choice.”
It occurred to me that if we went to the safe room in the basement of the Wayfarer, the daemon wouldn’t be able to (a) teleport out with me, (b) shoot magic at me, or (c) bathe me in fire. He could still break me in half; but if he’d wanted to do that, he already would have.
I pointed toward the floor. “Menolly, we need to use the room
downstairs
.”
She frowned, then her eyes lit up. “Oh,
that
room. All right. Come, follow me. Don’t hurt anybody and don’t destroy anything, either of you. Daemon, I hold you on pain of death that you won’t hurt my sister.”
The daemon grunted, looking suspicious, but followed Menolly, shaking the floor with each meaty step. I swung in behind. Smoky, Trillian, and Shade followed, leaving Delilah and the staff to take care of the dead elf and the frightened patrons.
Downstairs, we came to the safe room. No magic could enter here, nor creature teleport in or out. All natural abilities were muted. If a nuclear blast hit this bar, the safe room would stand.
I gazed at the door, swallowing my fear. Being shut in a room with the daemon—alone—was a daunting thought. Not so much fun. Not so much safe. But we didn’t dare let him broadcast everything he knew.
None of the FBHs—the full-blooded humans—were aware that the demonic army led by Shadow Wing was trying to break through the portals to take over Earth and Otherworld. Only a handful of our friends knew we were on the trail of the spirit seals, the pieces of a broken artifact that, alone, could seal off the Subterranean Realms from the rest of the worlds. We had to gather as many of them as we could before Shadow Wing did. Not such good news to have flying around as common knowledge.
As it was, we were in for a lot of damage control just from the daemon’s appearance in the bar.
I motioned for him to enter the room and, with a scowl, he ducked his head so that his horns cleared the archway. As I followed behind him, Menolly touched me on the arm.
“One peep and we’re coming in. Don’t get near him. He can’t work his magic but he could tear you apart.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.” And, reluctantly, I shut the door and turned to face the daemon, crossing my arms. The best defense was to show no fear. “Trytian has a message for me? Deliver it and then scram, hell spawn.” I didn’t bother asking for his name—chances were he wouldn’t give it to me.
The daemon looked around. “A no-magic zone. Not stupid—not so stupid as some.” A dark grimace crossed his face. “I would relish a fight with you, girl. And your friends. But this is not my battle to wage.”
I decided to let that one pass. No need to press my luck. Letting out a long sigh, I asked, “What do you want? Why did you kill the elf upstairs?”
“He sought to interfere with me. He had to be eliminated.” He said it nonchalantly. A given:
Dare to interfere with the daemon? Poof—you die.
“Again, I ask: What do you want?”
“I bear a warning from Trytian.”
Trytian was, like we were, attempting to stop the demon lord Shadow Wing, only he was going about it in a totally different manner. Unfortunately, since he
was
a daemon, he had no compunction about killing us if we happened to get in the way. And he was rude. Very rude. This warning—whatever it was—meant that he either anticipated needing our help, or he had suddenly sprouted wings and become a cute little cherub. And I sincerely doubted the latter.
“Okay, I’m listening. What is so important that Trytian sent you over here to stir the pot? And why you—why not someone who can pass out on the streets?”
I leaned against the small bistro table that was pushed against one wall. The room had signs of occupation—Erin, the daughter Menolly had sired into the vampiric life, was staying down here during the day, sleeping in safety. The bed was piled high with comfy blankets, there were cards and books on the table, and an empty bottle that had held blood.
“I was the only one available to send at the moment. Here is Trytian’s message.” He handed me a letter. “You will understand why I did not want to be alone with your husband when you read it.”
Oh hell. Something to do with Smoky.
Gingerly, I took the paper and opened it. The writing was tight, neat, and precisely printed in red ink—at least I
hoped
it was ink, considering the color. As I began to read, I started to sink toward the floor, but one grunt from the daemon and I straightened back up again. No dropping my guard, not with a big, bad daemon in the room. Trytian had no scruples, and I didn’t expect his cohorts to have any, either.
I glanced up at the creature. “Wait here, please.” Before he could say a word, I slipped out of the room and slammed the door, locking it behind me. He could hammer all he wanted on it, he was locked in there till we let him out.
“What’s going on? Are you all right?” Smoky leaned over me, and I could tell he was looking for signs the daemon had laid hands on me.
“I’m fine . . . at least physically. He gave me a letter from Trytian. If it’s true, then you and I are fucked. Just plain and simple.”
“Read it.” Shade was staring at me, concern creasing his face.
I cleared my throat and held up the paper.
Rumors are running rife through the grapevine, but I assure you, this is no rumor. A white dragon was recently seen in the halls of the Demon Underground, hanging out with a snow monkey. He is not welcome there but no one dares tell a dragon to leave.
Camille: Scuttlebutt is that he’ll be marching in your direction soon. He’s made it known that you and your husband are on his shit list. And frankly, though you and I disagree on the method, all allies against Shadow Wing are valuable at this point, and I may need to call on your aid at some point. So be cautious and don’t get yourself killed.
 
 
~Trytian
 
I let out a long breath. Hyto was in the area. Which meant death was sure to follow. And dying by dragon was so not my idea of fun.
Smoky’s face drained of what color it had and his eyes began to swirl. Very softly, very slowly, he spoke. “My father has just signed his death warrant.”
“Crap.” Menolly leaned against the wall. “He’s here, in Seattle, hanging out with demons and daemons? Not the news we needed right now.”
I fingered the paper. “What’s a snow monkey? Why would he have an ape with him?”
“Trytian’s not talking about an animal,” Shade said. “A snow monkey is slang for a powerful monk from one of the upper monasteries in the Northlands. Usually, snow monkeys are rogues—having been kicked out of their order. They’re most often mad as a hornet, and they don’t give a damn about anybody but themselves. If one’s taken up with your father, Smoky, then he’s bound to have been offered a great reward. They’re dangerous.” He gave me a sad smile. “I’d start watching my back if I were you.”
“Like we don’t already.” Sighing, I leaned against the wall, letting them talk around me.
Mad monks were bad enough, but it was the thought of Hyto being so close—the thought of him actually being in the city—that made me want to run home to Otherworld and hide. But I couldn’t do that, either, having been exiled from Y’Elestrial by my father.
Smoky’s father hated me. He hated my breath, my life, my existence. He had nothing to lose, he’d been cast out of the Dragon Reaches, denied by his wife, disowned by his children. And he blamed it all on
me
.
My cell phone rang and I flipped it open. Caller ID told me it was Chase Johnson. I punched Talk and answered.
“Camille—I was hoping you were back. I need you down here. We’ve got a problem in Tangleroot Park, and I am pretty sure it’s magical in nature. In fact, so magical that I almost pissed my pants when I saw it. I’ve got my guys blocking it off for now, but I’m scared to try anything before you come have a look-see.”
“
It?
What are you talking about? A monster or something?”
“I don’t think so. Honestly? I’ll bet you my paycheck it’s a portal of some sort.”
My blood ran cold. Hyto was my big worry right now, but he wasn’t standing here in front of me. If Chase was right and there was a portal opening up in Tangleroot Park, we could be in for big trouble of a different sort. Because the random portals that had started showing themselves around the city were rogue, and could lead anywhere.
“We’ll get our asses over there right now. Meanwhile, don’t let anybody touch it or go near it.” As I shut my phone, it occurred to me that my life was quickly coming to resemble a roller coaster, and right now, we felt at the peak, ready to take a long, dark ride down the tracks.
 
 
 

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