Shaded Vision: An Otherworld Novel (32 page)

“You’re right. Only you won’t find the pair on the owner’s certificate. One of the Tregarts I’ve been talking to spilled that little news while drunk. He didn’t count on my booze being of a much stronger nature than the Earthside alcohol.” He laughed, his voice coarse. “Most people—demon or otherwise—underestimate my abilities.”

Again, his glance shifted to Camille.
You’re really walking on thin ice, dude,
I thought. I snapped my fingers, and he shook his head and shrugged. “Yeah…well, that aside, what were you saying about the bar?”

“The Tregart told me that his bosses had opened the bar to attract recruits. He said that anybody who walked in there and stayed would be the kind of people
they
were looking for.” Trytian picked up a sugar packet and began playing with it, tapping it on the table. He ripped the top off and poured it into his coffee and stirred.

“They who?”

“I asked him that. He was sufficiently drunk to let names slide, for which—no doubt—he could have been killed. He said two Tregart sorcerers named Van and Jaycee. They apparently owned a magic shop that got torn apart by some explosion a few months back. He told me they smelled dragon in the air.” With a long look at Smoky, Trytian let out a slow laugh. “Ten to one, I know who.”

Smoky just growled.

“Yeah, I made you, right. They hurt your woman, right?” He glanced at Camille, who gave the smallest of flinches, but apparently Trytian was good at picking up on nuances. “What did they do? Beat you up? Set you on fire?”

She let out a long sigh. “Rolled me in broken glass during a fight. I survived, though I felt like a pincushion.”

“That sounds about right. They’re sadists. I knew that already. But I’ll admit it: I really thought they worked for Stacia. I was wrong. They didn’t work for her. Or, it turns out, for me. I had no clue they had this vendetta going on that involved your Koyanni shifters. I don’t dabble in the affairs of most Supes. I’m only interested in building a force against Shadow Wing.”

At the last, his eyes flashed and I saw a glint in them that made my stomach shift. Daemons were often more powerful than demons, and we still didn’t know what abilities Trytian possessed. I wasn’t entirely sure we wanted to find out, either.

“We were both played.”

“Apparently so. Hold on one minute.” Trytian stood, walked to the side, and pulled out a phone. The clamor in the restaurant was so loud it was hard to think. While we were waiting, the waitress deposited our meals on the table. Camille, Trillian, and I dug into our food.

After a moment, Trytian returned. He sat back down, leaned forward and cocked his head to the side. He interlaced his fingers, cracking his knuckles.

“Listen, puss—” He stopped as Shade shifted in his chair. “
Delilah.
Nobody plays me and survives. That phone call I just made? Every Tregart in my house will be dead within the next five minutes. Before you’re done with your meal, every Tregart in my training camp will be dead. They won’t know it’s coming until it’s over.”

I blinked. “How many?”

“Forty-five…fifty. My Second knows for sure. But not Van and Jaycee—I only deal with them on a business arrangement. They aren’t in my camp and they don’t know the inner workings of my plans.” He was cool as a penguin on ice. He didn’t even blink.

“And you’re comfortable killing them all, knowing that maybe some of them are truly loyal to you?” Once again, the difference between Trytian’s methods and our own seemed so clear.

“Oh, don’t try that with me, pussycat.” He held his hand up as Shade stood. “Get over it, Stradolan. Yes, I know what you are,” he added, giving my startled lover a quick, cold smile. “The fact is, you kill off every Tregart you come across, don’t you?”

I stammered. “Well…yes…but…”

“You don’t know if they’re sent over here from Shadow Wing, if they’re my soldiers, or if they’re—possibly, just possibly—trying to escape their past and live a relatively normal life.
The only good Tregart is a dead Tregart.
Isn’t that the way you work?” He slapped the table—one, quick, hard slap.

“He’s right.” Camille sat up, wiping the corner of her lips with her napkin.

I swiveled my head and started to say something, but she shook her head.

“We
do
operate that way. The Tregarts are our enemy. We fight them, we kill them. Trytian’s correct.” She ignored his snort. “He did us a favor, because no doubt at least a good share of them were working for Shadow Wing. Forty-five? Fifty? That many fewer demons we have to worry about.”

I swallowed my protest. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, what’s our next move?” Trytian asked.

I didn’t like the implication of that little statement “
Our
next move? What makes you think we’re working together?”

“I don’t think we have any choice on this. We were both deceived.” He gave a little shrug.

Trytian had repeatedly offered to work with us. On
his
terms. But I still didn’t trust him. We could definitely add to his army—we’d knocked off three demon generals already. But he knew we’d never kowtow to his orders, so what was he expecting? He had threatened Camille last time—it was obvious he wanted her. But no, Trytian would fuck her if he had the chance, but he wouldn’t go to these lengths just for sex. He was an opportunist, not obsessed. So it had to be something else.

And then, I knew. There was one thing he could be hoping to gain—and obviously, he knew about it even though
we had conveniently left out mentioning it when we told him what we knew.

“Tell us who the bald-headed man is who’s hanging out with Van and Jaycee. He’s not one of the Tregarts, but he is a Koyanni, and you know about him, don’t you? You know what he carries. And
that
is why you want to work with us.” He wanted the spirit seal, and he knew we could lead him to it.

Trytian licked his lips, but then he leaned back, locking gazes with me. “Let us proceed on the supposition that you’re correct. We each hold pieces of the puzzle. Without the other, we flail in the dark…at least for longer than we would if we lay our cards on the table. Separate, we’re strong. Together, we’re stronger.”

Trillian snorted. “What’s to prevent you from turning on us when we find…what we’re looking for?” He was playing with his knife and now pointed it directly at Trytian.

“Put your blade away, Svartan. You deserted the Sub-Realms like the rest of us. You’re no better than me.” He let out a huff. “I’m growing bored. Okay, I tell you who the bald-headed Koyanni is, and you let me in on the fight when you find out where he is. Better hurry. My offer expires in the next five minutes. I’ll give you some privacy to discuss it while I make a trip to the john.”

As he left the table, I let out a long sigh. “He wants the spirit seal. He knows who this guy is, and he knows he has one of the spirit seals.”

“Do you buy the bit about him killing the Tregarts?” Shade looked skeptical, but both Camille and I nodded.

“Oh hell, yes. Trytian would sacrifice his own mother if he thought it would gain him another rung up the ladder. He’s on a mission for his father, and nothing’s going to stop him from his goal. And that goal is to raise an army to fight Shadow Wing. A spirit seal would go a long way in helping his cause.” I slapped the table. “Damn it, I hate dealing with him, but we need to know who this creep is.”

Camille’s phone rang and she answered. A minute later, she hung up. “We deal with him.”

“Why? Who was that?”

“Chase. There’s a massive rally going on there between the hate freaks and the United Worlds Church. This is getting out of hand. We have to get over to headquarters and get the counter-rally started.”

Trillian stood up and silently stalked into the men’s room. Within seconds, he was back, Trytian behind him. The daemon looked at me, expectantly.

“Fine. We deal. Now tell us what you know about the bald-headed Koyanni.” I pulled out my notebook.

Trytian laughed and reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing a sheaf of papers. He tossed them on the table. “Here’s all the information I’ve gathered on Gulakah, on the Koyanni, on your bald-headed man. And here’s the deal: You have my cell phone number. When you’re ready to take him down, you call me. Whoever gets to him first gets the prize, and no fighting over it afterward. You have my word. Now keep yours.”

“The word of a daemon.” Smoky simmered, glaring at him. “How do we know you’re good to your honor?”

With another laugh, the daemon shrugged. “You don’t. But you don’t have much choice, now do you?” And with that, he turned and exited the restaurant.

“I’m beginning to feel like we live here,” I said as I eased into the parking lot. As we neared the building, I began to see a crowd. The signs they carried were ugly, and there were scattered members of the Freedom’s Angels throughout the throng, along with a fair number of FBHs. The majority carried signs in support of Andy Gambit.
Andy Gambit the rapist and hatemonger.

“I didn’t think they’d actually gather here.” I glanced at Shade as I maneuvered into a parking spot away from the crowd. The last thing I wanted was a rock through my windshield.

“Makes sense. This is where they’re holding Gambit.” Shade shook his head. “Crowd looks pretty mild right now, but those Tregarts in the mix aren’t going to help anything. They’ll do their damnedest to make trouble and stir up people who normally probably wouldn’t do more than stand around shouting clichéd slogans.”

I shrugged into my jacket as Camille pulled in next to us. “I don’t understand how they can back him. How can they
defend someone who raped—and helped slice up—a woman. She could have been one of them.”

“But she wasn’t. They see her as the enemy because Gambit and that sleazy rag he writes for paint her as the enemy. Gambit’s no better than a two-bit Hitler. Give him enough power and he’d declare open season on the Supe Community.” Shade leaned against the car, folding his arms.

“He’s already done that.” I punched in Tim’s number, and when he answered, I said, “Get the phone trees in action. We need people down here at the FH-CSI to counterprotest Gambit’s supporters. Pick them carefully, though. We need people who aren’t going to fly off the handle and cause a stink. Levelheaded…that’s the key.”

“Will do. And, Delilah—you guys be careful. Please.” He paused, not hanging up. “Listen, would you like some support from the GLBT community?”

It took me a moment to decipher the acronym, but when I did, my heart gave a little leap. “Of course we’d welcome your friends’ support. Why would you think we wouldn’t?”

He laughed. “No reason. No reason at all. I’ll call our local support group and alert them to get busy, too.”

I said good-bye and then called Neely. She sounded sleepy—apparently I’d woken her up. I glanced at the clock. Seven ten. The sun would be up in a few minutes. Menolly was already deep in her lair, falling into that dark slumber that summoned her each morning.

After I explained what was going down, she promised she’d get the United Worlds Church into action. Hanging up, I headed inside. Shade and the others followed.

As we walked past the crowd, they began to chant epithets,
Faerie whores
and
Fleabags
being among the unimaginative fare. Smoky turned to them and let out a low rumble that echoed through the parking lot and they stopped, staring at him. Camille tugged on his arm and we hurried into the building. As soon as Chase saw us, he motioned for us to follow him to one of the conference rooms, where we gathered around the table, all looking just as tired as we had earlier.

“It didn’t take them long, did it? What did Gambit say when you hauled his ass in? I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that one. Or better yet, there to watch his face and laugh at him when you put the cuffs on him.” My hatred for Gambit had skyrocketed ever since we met Alfina.

“You are not going to believe what’s happened. The news about Gambit got out on the early news, plus his photo. We’ve had five women come in already, claiming he raped them, too. Three FBHs, another Fae, one elf.”

“That motherfucking piece of trash—”

“Yeah, I agree. Of course, Gambit’s protesting his innocence and went into martyr mode. He used his phone call to contact the editor of his yellow rag, who first staged the protests and then called a lawyer for Gambit. And the guy he hired is apparently on the payroll with the same attitude that Gambit has. This is going to be sticky, because two of Gambit’s victims are from Otherworld. Technically, I could extradite him, but the crowd out there would go insane.”

“If we could get him to confess, it would make it so much easier.” I didn’t like the thought of Gambit on trial. There were too many things that could go wrong in a rape trial. Even with a serial rapist. Alfina was a gorgeous woman; the mindset that a woman deserved what she got was still far too ingrained in society—both Earthside and parts of Otherworld.

“That’s not likely to happen. Unless…” Chase jumped up. “Wait here.”

As he left the room, I opened the packet of information Trytian had given me. The top page was a photo of the bald-headed man—or at least
a
bald-headed man, but he was gaunt and lean, and tough looking, so he was probably our Koyanni. Around his neck was a pendant. One of the spirit seals.