Текст книги "Tatterdemalion "

Автор книги: Anah Crow

Соавторы: Dianne Fox
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“Be pretty.” Dane flashed Lindsay a wolfish grin. “Should be easy enough. It likes to hunt on the

seedy side of things, outside the illegal nightclubs and gambling houses. We’ll be going there. Lone, drunk victims are easy prey for a thing like that. We’ll find it where they are.”

Lindsay blinked at Dane. Bait. He was going to be bait. He wasn’t used to thinking of himself as

desirable, but Dane seemed certain of it. “I can do that. I think.” At least he could do something. He dug through his bag, searching for anything to wear to a nightclub. Most of what he had was chosen for the cold German winter, not the warmth of Mexico. And certainly not for looking pretty, or easy.

“There’s a shop downstairs,” Dane added, pulling off his own shirt. “If you want to get some lighter

clothes. Whatever you think works best. Pretty’s not my forte.” He snorted softly at the notion.

“The gift shop might be best. You can tell me if I succeed.” He took the cash Dane handed over and

gave Dane a grin that he couldn’t have stifled if he’d wanted to. Dane liked him. Dane liked him. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

It didn’t take long to find what he needed. The hotel was part of a resort, and the shops downstairs

stocked all manner of clothes and things for forgetful tourists. He slipped back into the hotel room and

ducked into the bathroom before Dane could ask any questions.

It had been a long time since he’d tried to dress in such a way that he’d attract attention, and these

were the first clothes he’d bought for himself since… He stopped that train of thought and turned his

attention to his clothes, shedding the ones he wore and digging through his bag of purchases.

The pants he’d bought were black and velvety-soft, and he’d found likely the only long-sleeved shirt

in the entire resort. He’d impulsively bought an eyeliner pencil, but standing in front of the mirror, he was afraid it would make him look like a clown. He gave it a shot anyway, tracing delicate lines under his eyes.

When he stepped back to inspect himself, he was surprised to see that the kohl brought out the gray in his

pale eyes, making them seem more intense.

After he’d cleaned up the pile of clothes and tags he’d left on the floor, Lindsay was out of ways to

delay showing himself to Dane. He swallowed hard and stepped out of the bathroom, shrugging

uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure if he’d managed anything more than making himself nervous.

Dane’s rumble was definitely approving. Lindsay was learning to tell Dane’s noises and his

expressions better all the time. “Someone’s going to steal you, not just the guul. I best be careful.” He kept his hands to himself, though. He was wearing heavy boots, clean jeans, a wide belt, and a well-worn leather vest. As far as Lindsay was concerned, Dane looked pretty damn irresistible himself.

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Lindsay watched Dane tuck a black bag into a pocket of his vest and sheath a long silver knife in his

boot. He trusted Dane to find the demon, but maybe he could help. “What should I be watching for?”

“It appears human,” Dane said. “The hardest thing for it to hide is its feet, because they touch the

earth and the magic seeps away. They look like birds’ feet, at least if you have the sight to see through its disguises.”

“Can you see through them, the way you see through my illusions?”

“We both can. Anyone with enough magic in their blood can see through a guul’s disguise. That’s

why you won’t find it in bright places or with many people—it doesn’t want to get too close to the mages it hunts, not too soon. It’ll be a man alone, in the shadows, waiting for someone else who’s alone.”

“Oh.” Bird feet. Lindsay would have to remember that.

Dane checked Lindsay over one more time, slowly, and flashed him a toothy grin. “Let’s go hunt

demons.”

Lindsay’s cheeks felt warm, and he smiled, looking forward to this almost as much as Dane was.

“Let’s go.”

They took a cab from the hotel to the wrong side of town, and Dane waved off the driver’s warnings,

given in halting English. “We’ll be fine.”

It was obvious why the driver had been trying to discourage them from getting out here. Everything

seemed dim and shadowed, even the places lit by neon signs. There were alleys everywhere, darker still,

and that seemed to be where people were headed. Into those alleys, to the illicit places Dane had mentioned before.

“We pick one, we go in, we grab a drink, we mingle, then out the back. Wander the alleys a while,

and back into another. I won’t lose you if you don’t want me to, so don’t worry. Have fun. You have to

seem natural.” As Dane spoke, he led Lindsay toward a narrow pink door set into a grungy, pale green

building.

Lindsay nodded. He could do this. He had to go in and have a good time. Inside, the club was hot,

packed with people from one end of the room to the other. Lindsay tucked himself closer to Dane and tried

not to seem nervous.

“It’s like throwing an illusion.” Dane’s voice was warm and reassuring in his ear. “Without the magic

behind it. Make people believe that you’re a happy party boy. Put yourself out there. None of these people

know who you are or were, and you’ll never see them again. So go on.”

Lindsay took a deep breath and nodded again before plunging into the crowd. There was a dance

floor, or something like it, where people were grinding against each other. He made his way over and found

himself dancing with one man, and another, and another. None of them spoke English, and Lindsay didn’t

speak any Spanish, but that didn’t matter. No one was here for the conversation. Eventually, though,

Lindsay looked around for Dane. The big man should have been hard to miss, even in such a crowd.

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As if summoned by Lindsay’s thoughts, Dane was suddenly behind him, murmuring in his ear. “Time

to keep hunting.”

Lindsay let Dane lead him out the back of the club. They wandered through the dark alleys until Dane

pointed toward an open door where light and music were pouring out into the alley. “Let’s go through

there.”

“All right.” Lindsay slipped in ahead, weaving through the crowd. Dane moved past him like they

didn’t even know each other, and Lindsay saw him disappear into a shadowed corner. He would probably

lurk there like he was lying in wait until he caught a scent or decided it was time for them to leave.

Lindsay’s pale hair and skin and slender body brought him a great deal of attention, even from women

and from men who had been dancing with women. He danced, like he had in the last place, twirling from

one person to the next. It was flattering, being so sought-after, but sometimes it was hard to keep his smile plastered to his face.

Hands skimmed his chest and hips, his ass and groin. Some did more than just skim. One of the men

he danced with insisted on holding his ass with both hands, tight, kneading as he ground against Lindsay’s

body. The last man wasn’t much different. He put Lindsay’s back to his chest and ground against his ass,

instead. He dragged his tongue from Lindsay’s shoulder to his ear, leaving a trail of warm saliva behind.

When that one let Lindsay go, Lindsay shook off the other offers and headed for Dane. He’d had

enough. Too much.

Lindsay found Dane in a booth in the darkest corner of the bar. Dane’s back was to the wall. He was

holed up there, staring out into the open bar like an animal in its den. Lindsay didn’t hesitate to go to him, crawling along the bench to curl up at Dane’s side.

Dane wrapped an arm around him, laughing quietly. “Maybe you’re too pretty for this town.” No one

bothered pursuing Lindsay once he was safely tucked up against Dane. “Ready to move on?”

Lindsay shook his head. “No more,” he murmured, pressing his face against Dane’s chest and taking a

deep breath to calm himself. Dancing had been fun, but he didn’t like being a piece of meat to be passed

around, groped and fondled at will.

“Okay.” Dane stroked Lindsay’s hair with one hand and picked up his drink with the other. “You

want some?” He offered the glass to Lindsay.

It smelled strong, like scotch or rye. Lindsay held the glass in both hands and sipped. It burned going

down and he coughed, but took another sip anyway.

“It’ll settle you some,” he said, loud enough for Lindsay to hear. Obediently, Lindsay had some more.

The petting felt so good, soothing. He leaned into it, and into the solid warmth of Dane’s body. Dane got

him to drink most of what seemed like an unusually full glass of liquor. “Better?”

Lindsay curled up against Dane’s chest, nodding. “Better. Thank you.” He was buzzed and his anxiety

had eased, as Dane had promised.

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Dane ran his hands over Lindsay’s back and over his hips. “That’s good. Need to teach you how to

throw those wicked little elbows. Keep the men off you.”

“I thought you wanted them on me,” Lindsay murmured, rubbing his cheek against Dane’s shirt.

“Wanted you to have fun. Careless young mages having fun are what this thing wants.” Dane nudged

Lindsay’s temple with his nose. “Thought you liked men, anyway.”

“I do.” Lindsay tipped his head back. “I don’t like being grabbed like that. It was…I don’t know. Too

much.”

“Now you know. Done partying for the night for sure?”

“I’ll go back out there if you want me to.” For a moment, he was afraid Dane would make him go.

“Tell me what you want.”

Lindsay butted his head against Dane’s chin. “I don’t want them touching me anymore.” He wanted to

stay here, with Dane, where he felt safe.

“Fair enough. Anything else?” Dane’s hands were warm on his back and hips and over his thighs.

“I want you to touch me,” Lindsay muttered, shifting under Dane’s hands. He liked it when Dane

touched him. He wanted Dane.

But a thin line of cold cut through all Lindsay’s warmth and pleasure. Dane’s gentle smile suddenly

felt condescending and so did his question. Dane could tell that Lindsay wanted him, so why was he

asking? Why would Dane ask unless he couldn’t be bothered to want anything for himself?

Suddenly Lindsay was afraid that he’d been wrong, that Dane didn’t want him but was keeping him

happy so he’d be good for Cyrus. Lindsay couldn’t say what had changed except now he could see how he

could be used because of everything he felt. It was so easy to see that his emotions and his pleasure were

strings being pulled, and Dane was asking him to participate in his own manipulation.

Betrayal. Even his own body was being used against him, all over again. It was horrible, and it made

so much sense, that Dane would be the one to keep him in line. It wasn’t like Dane seemed to give a damn

who he fucked.

“Actually, you don’t have to do anything,” Lindsay muttered. He wasn’t going to play this game.

“You don’t have to fucking indulge me. I’m not going to fall apart.” He pushed away and out of Dane’s lap, out of the booth.

Lindsay had to get away so he could think. Being near Dane made him stupid with emotions and

hormones that were clouding his judgment. He tugged his fingers through his hair, like he could wipe away

Dane’s touches, and headed out the back of the bar. He didn’t know where he was going, maybe back to

where the cab had left them. Maybe he’d be able to get to the hotel from there. He didn’t need Dane, not for that. He didn’t need anyone who didn’t want him as much as he wanted them.

The streets were empty and humid, the last of the day’s warmth making the standing water from the

sewers hang in the air. A thin layer of murky mist mingled with the sweat and makeup on Lindsay’s skin,

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making him feel as dirty and disposable outside as he felt inside. There wasn’t a person or a cab in sight.

Maybe it would be easier to find a cab on a busier street.

Lindsay knew he was sulking, but damn it, Dane didn’t have to be such a dick about everything. It

wasn’t like Lindsay was going to fall apart if Dane didn’t fuck him. Dane didn’t need to whore himself out

to keep Lindsay in line. Lindsay had nowhere else to go.

Didn’t Dane want anything for himself? No one else felt a burning need to know what Lindsay

wanted. And if anyone could tell what Lindsay wanted or needed, wouldn’t it be Dane, with his senses that

made him seem like a mind reader? Too many fucking questions that Lindsay couldn’t answer. He was

done with it.

Lindsay wiped under his eyes to make sure his eyeliner wasn’t streaking his face. There was a man

behind him, walking at an even pace. It was too shadowed to make anything out about him. Otherwise, the

street was still empty. A moment later, the man was closer than his pace would have allowed.

Lindsay sped up, wishing he hadn’t left the bar so impulsively. He looked around, hoping for the light

from another club or some other crowded place.

“You’re pretty tonight.” The voice was right in Lindsay’s ear.

Lindsay’s head whipped around and he caught a glimpse of a tall, thin man. Those footsteps hadn’t

been that close, but there the man was. It wasn’t Dane, so Lindsay didn’t wait. He ran for the empty

intersection he could see in the distance. Whoever it was, he didn’t want to stick around for a better

introduction. He ran straight into someone, someone who smelled sweet like honey.

“Don’t run.” Hands closed on Lindsay’s shoulders.

Lindsay twisted away and ran again, taking off down an alley. He wanted to get away. His breath

came fast more from the fear than the running, and his heart was pounding so hard it felt like the man

would be able to track him from the noise. Where was Dane? Lindsay was going to die and Dane was going

to laugh at him for being stupid.

The man followed him into the alley. His steps scraped on the stones like huge nails on a chalkboard.

Every slow step he took was like five of Lindsay’s steps, the way that chilling sound got closer and closer.

A hand clamped around Lindsay’s wrist and yanked him off his feet. “Pretty.”

Claws. Like bird talons. That was why it made those noises. The demon had bird feet. Lindsay gulped

for the air that was knocked out of him when he hit the ground. He struggled, trying to kick and get away.

When that didn’t work, he shoved his magic out instead. He was broken and the magic would knock

him out, but he was fucked anyway. Nothing else had worked, and passing out would be worth it, if he

could get away. It had worked on Jonas, maybe it would work here too. Stop, he thought, pushing his magic at the demon. Die.

The guul laughed. It felt like the thing was lapping up Lindsay’s magic through its skin. “Oh, so

pretty,” it praised. It dragged Lindsay deeper into the alley, pulling him by the one arm. Lindsay slid

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through a slurry of waste and water, kicking frantically, spitting obscenities in fear and outrage. He was nothing but a piece of meat. Nothing he did mattered, all over again.

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Chapter Nine

When Lindsay stormed out, Dane didn’t let Lindsay out of his sight, following at a distance. He

hadn’t done anything wrong, but he was dealing with the aftermath of nineteen years of people doing

everything wrong.

He would let Lindsay stomp around for a while, keeping an eye on him to keep him safe. With luck,

Lindsay would find his way to a cab and make his way back to the hotel successfully. It wasn’t going to do

Lindsay any good if Dane had to rescue him, lost and exhausted, and kick the last of his pride into the

gutter.

Dane saw a slender shadow far ahead of him on the street, shoulders hunched, head down. He was

going to have to work on that. A half-blind, one-legged mugger could jump Lindsay if he kept going

around with his head down. The urge to catch up and lecture Lindsay was there, but he put it aside in favor of ducking into an alley. He lost sight of Lindsay for a moment, but he wanted to get up on top of things.

His claws sank easily into old mortar as he scrambled up the side.

The buildings in the area were all only two or three storeys, almost all with uniformly flat roofs that

served as patio or garden space, and the passages between them were narrow enough to leap. Dane liked

old neighborhoods. He caught Lindsay’s scent again as he loped along, then a glimpse of the slouching

boy-shape as Lindsay turned a corner. Lindsay was young, and Dane never let himself forget it, no matter

how old Lindsay’s losses made him seem.

Something else caught Dane’s attention on a cross-breeze that pulled at his hair—the scent of honey.

He paused and straightened to smell the air, raising his face to the wind. Demons often smelled of sweet

things. The air swirled, making it hard to tell what direction the scent was coming from. Dane growled and

set off toward Lindsay.

Several buildings over, where the homes gave way to warehouses, he caught sight of Lindsay and

another man. The smell of honey hit him in the face and turned his stomach. For a moment, it seemed he

could get to Lindsay before the guul, but, in a blink, the creature was ahead of Lindsay, reaching for him.

Translocation. If it could take Lindsay along, Dane would never find them again.

Lindsay twisted loose of the guul and darted out of sight, then the guul disappeared as well. Dane

moved silently along the rooftops to intercept Lindsay’s path, swearing internally in a constant stream of

profanities that crossed languages, races and eras. He could hear Lindsay’s voice, and it gave him hope,

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despite the fear in it. As he moved, he slipped Yzumrud onto his finger. He had his pride, but that didn’t

matter when it came to Lindsay’s safety.

Dane came to the edge of a building over a narrow alley and crouched there, feeling a wash of déjà

vu. It seemed he was going to make a habit of scrapping in alleys over the boy. He gauged the distance and

launched himself into the air. Landing awkwardly, he hit the guul, bearing it to the ground.

As they rolled in the muck, he could hear Lindsay scrambling to escape. Good boy. The guul threw

Dane off like he was nothing at all and Dane’s thoughts were lost as he crashed into the side of a building, nearly half a storey off the ground. Falling, he hit the dirt at a bad angle. Things snapped in his left leg as it buckled.

“Ah, it has a guardian.” The guul reached out as he struggled to get up. The more his body tried to

recover, the weaker he felt. “Better and better.”

“Dane!”

Damn it. Maybe Lindsay hadn’t learned a thing.

Dane threw himself at the guul and took it into a brick wall with so much force that they left a dent

where the bricks were shoved in. The guul’s human disguise was shredding and its honeyed smell was

rotting on the air. It backhanded him across the alley, sending him crashing into the opposite wall with a sick crunch. Air went out of him and things shattered in his back, but some of his strength crept back into his blood.

“Helpful little thing,” the guul said sardonically. It must have been drawing off of Lindsay, but Dane

couldn’t get breath to tell the damn boy to stop and run. At least Lindsay was buying him some time to

heal. When the guul straightened, it shed the last of its disguise. At full height, it was taller than Dane, a black, skeletal body covered in taut, glossy skin. It cast about with its heavy head, turning to grin at

Lindsay with teeth like knives. “I will have you in a moment.”

Lindsay stumbled backward and sank to the ground. The guul was draining him dry and Dane would

be next. Dane didn’t have much choice here if he wanted them both to live. He needed Yzumrud.

Laughing, the guul turned back to Dane. “Now. The main course.” It reached for Dane with talons

longer than daggers. Once, Dane would have had a set to match. Now, he couldn’t put his bones back

together fast enough to get to his feet.

“Eat this.” Dane raised his hand and muttered the words to finish a spell in the old faerie tongue. He

hadn’t used magic like this in years, but the words rolled out perfectly. Fire burst from his palm, a hot white knot of flame that took the guul full in the face. Dane turned his head aside to avoid getting bone and

carapace splinters in his eyes as the guul’s skull exploded.

It always felt like cheating.

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Dane forced himself up, leaning on the wall for support. Any thrill from the kill was lost in the

bitterness of knowing Ezqel had been right, Dane had needed Yzumrud. He brought his hand up to stare at

the damn thing.

“Bastard,” he grumbled, at the ring as much as at Ezqel. Yzumrud caught the faded moonlight and

glittered like laughter.

The dim glint of light on the ring sparked an equally dim memory in Dane, from so long ago he might

have been Lindsay’s age. Breathing hard, he stared at his hand and the ring as though they belonged to

someone else.

The memory of truths twisted by demon magic and the smell of honey over death bubbled to the

surface of his mind. Guuls had more power than magic-eating and their illusion played tricks on more than

the eyes. Dane had known that once, and Ezqel had known he knew it; they had learned it the same way,

each in their own time.

Before Dane knew what he was doing, he’d clenched his fist and twisted, driving Yzumrud and his

hand through the wall behind him. A snarl of rage was locked behind his clenched teeth. Ezqel had known

he would forget. There was so much he’d forgotten. When he pulled his hand back, the ring glittered still,

untouched.

If Dane had remembered, he never would have let Lindsay storm off. If he’d remembered, his need to

protect Lindsay would have kept Lindsay too close for the boy to be bait for the guul. They might never

have gotten the heart they needed, not like this, and Dane wouldn’t have apologized for it, either. They

would have found another way.

“I’m sorry.” Lindsay’s voice was small and shaky, barely loud enough to be heard over the roaring in

Dane’s ears. It didn’t need to be loud to bring Dane up short. Of course Lindsay would think it was his

fault.

“Not angry at you,” Dane ground out. Another surge of anger, this time at himself, rose as soon as the

first was ebbing. “Just…” His vision was tinted red, everything was wrapped in a bloody halo. There was

no discussing it now. He turned and pointed an ichor-stained finger at Lindsay. “Not you. Understand?”

Lindsay’s body tensed in a reflexive cringe, but he nodded and tried to sit up.

Dane turned back to the smoldering, headless corpse. “Good thing we didn’t need that part,” he

muttered. “You okay?” He flexed the hand he’d used for the spell. Sparks of heat and power were still

running up and down his arm, catching on his broken magic and making his skin sting.

“’m good.” Lindsay hadn’t managed to stand yet and he sounded unsteady, but he was awake and

aware. That was enough for Dane.

“Good. Stay that way.” Dane spat out the taste of guul that lingered on the air and shook his head. “I

hate using party tricks.” He hated owing Ezqel. He hated failing.

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From his boot, he pulled the long silver dagger. In the dim alleyway, it glowed with an eerie light that

pulsed in the runes along the blade. He kicked the twitching corpse onto its back and, straddling it, split it from neck to notch. The resulting stench was unbearable. “Why don’t they ever make one that smells good inside?”

“I could do without ever smelling honey again.”

“Come closer, it’ll clear your head.” Dane plunged one hand into the open cavity to find the heart. He

got his fingers around it, careful not to nick it with his claws. He wrenched it out as Ezqel had instructed, but stringy tissue still bound the thing to its body. A slash of the magical blade freed it completely. Dane held it up for Lindsay to see. It was more than twice the size of a human heart, longer and thinner, and

blacker than the night sky. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Except for the part where I made an ass out of myself.” Lindsay pushed himself to his feet and made

his way over to Dane. He was unsteady but calm, and Dane was proud of him. He didn’t even make a face

at the demon stench. “Are you all right?”

“Thing eats magic, and don’t tell anyone, but I’m not exactly at my best.” Dane wiped the knife clean

on his thigh and sheathed it again. His back hurt every time he breathed and his leg felt like it was going to buckle if he put too much weight on it. He could feel every bone fracture and blood clot. “But I’ll live.”

That was all he was going to confess to, even to Lindsay. He pulled the black velvet null bag from his

pocket and slid the heart into it, and tucked it into the inside pocket of his vest. “Are you well enough to walk?” He checked Lindsay over, frowning.

Lindsay nodded, and Dane could tell he was lying from the way he wobbled from that little motion.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s fine. Get out of the alley. I have to get rid of this thing.”

Dane was still blindingly angry, and it surprised him all over again. He so rarely got angry at things

other than Ezqel and Cyrus these days, and the worst of it never lasted, always subsiding back to the

embers of resentment and old losses. But he was furious that Lindsay had nearly gotten killed again, mostly with himself for failing to do his job. He should have known, even if Ezqel hadn’t reminded him about the

guul tricks, not to let Lindsay out of his reach, much less out of his sight. Rage was making his head throb.

Lindsay headed back out of the alley the way he’d come. He waited near the corner, staring at his feet,

hair hanging in his face. Dane wanted to yell at him to keep his head up, but refrained. This wasn’t exactly a teachable moment.

Dane took a few paces back and raised the same hand he’d raised against the demon before. Yzumrud

glinted at him again in what little light there was, laughing at him for needing it once more. He spoke under his breath and the corpse imploded in a shower of green sparks and a cloud of yellow gases.

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The fire was green and white, flaring so hot that the smell of melting asphalt undercut the vile smoke.