Darkest Night - Smoke And Ashes Part 29

"Yeah. Thanks for shar..." About halfway through the deck, he froze. "Holy c.r.a.p. I don't think that's possible!"

Henry leaned around Jack's shoulder for a look. "It's possible, but the second woman has to be very flexible. And his back's going to ache afterward."

Jack stepped away, turned, and stared at the other man. "How the h.e.l.l old are you, anyway?"

"Older than I look."

"Let's hope so." If he'd been asked an hour ago, he'd have said the guy was Tony's age, early twenties, maybe a couple of years older. Now, he wasn't so sure. There was something strange about him, something more than just being a.s.s-deep into the weird s.h.i.+t that went with having a wizard for an ex. Maybe it was the whole romance writer thing-that was definitely a little creepy. Maybe he'd researched exotic positions for one of his books. More comforting a thought than the possibility he'd spent his teens as a p.o.r.nographic gymnast. Jack sighed. "You play rummy?"

"Penny a point?"

Because he'd noticed that the queen of hearts was unnaturally worn-noticed and then refused to think why-Jack was up forty- two dollars when Henry stiffened and dropped his cards.

"What is it?" d.a.m.n if it didn't look like the guy was sniffing the air.

"Something's coming."

"Something?" Jack tossed his cards aside and stood, pulling his weapon from his shoulder holster. "The something we're here for?"

"Probably."

To Jack's surprise, Henry flipped the chaise up on its side and shoved it toward the wall. "Get behind that."

"Up yours."

"You'll have a place to brace your weapon as well as some small amount of protection."

"And you'll be where?"

A loop of rope dangled from one hand. "I'll be attempting to..."

A rain of cherries cut him off.

"What the h.e.l.l?"

Henry looked up and moved just enough to avoid being hit. "It's our warning. The demon is through the wards."

Jack winced as a cherry bounced off his cheek. "You think?"

And then there was no time for thinking as all at once, tentacles and claws and spikes dangled from the light grid, filling the s.p.a.ce between the grid and the floor. It took a moment for the parts to become a whole and when it did, Jack wished it hadn't. Monsters didn't scare him-over the years he'd seen too much of what people could do-but this one gave it the old college try.

With a shriek of rending aluminum, one of the struts tore free and Jack decided that maybe being behind the fancy sofa wasn't such a bad idea. It had seemed solid. Well made. Likely to survive. He dove over the piece of furniture, rolled, and came up on his knees, ready to fire. Suddenly a line of yellow nylon rope was around the bulk of the demon's body. And then around most of the legs, snugging them in tight.

The demon screamed.

Something snarled an answer.

Jack's hindbrain sent up flares. Fight or flee! And flee seems like the better idea!

Right at the moment, denial seemed like a much better idea, but it was way, way too late for that.Jack popped off three quick rounds at the demon's... head and held back the fourth when Henry Fitzroy caught a heavily muscled arm in another loop of rope and began fighting it to the demon's side.

It seemed the not very tall man was stronger than the demon.

Stronger.

Faster.

More f.u.c.king scary.

"That's not possible." Under the circ.u.mstances, a stupid thing to say, but Jack was having just a little trouble coping. Romance writer, my a.s.s.

The demon hit the floor with a noise somewhere between a crash and a squelch.

A writhing tentacle-like arm split the air where Henry had been seconds before, twisted around for another blow as a second clawed tentacle came straight up out of the demon's body. No way Henry could avoid both. No way Jack could get off a clear shot. Trying not to think about what he was doing, Jack went over the chaise and tackled the arm.

Pinned under the length of his body, it was warmer than he'd expected.

Warmer, and a little damp.

It took him a moment to realize why it smelled so strongly of crushed cherries.

Heavy muscles bunched up to try and throw him off and, with the right leverage, Jack was pretty sure it'd be able to toss him across the soundstage.

It s.h.i.+fted within the confining rope.

Suddenly the floor was farther away.

Oh, f.u.c.k...

Henry had faced a Demonlord and bled to keep an ancient grimoire from falling into the taloned hands of the lesser demon it commanded. In comparison, this creature seemed no more or less than it appeared. Strong. Fast. Other. But not necessarily evil.

If there are, as the Demongate supposes, a mult.i.tude of h.e.l.ls-he slid under a clawed tentacle that would have disemboweled him-then perhaps, in some of these-another loop of rope secured the limb-we name the inhabitants demon based on appearance not motivations.

As the creature hissed and writhed, he spun about in time to see Jack Elson lifted into the air on the largest of what seemed essentially its arms.

And then the arm flipped over and Constable Elson was heading back toward the concrete floor at high speed.

There were no visible joints to act as weak spots-or rather too many joints to attack in the little time he had. Racing in toward the creature, Henry grabbed the arm just under the front set of claws and kept moving, dragging it-and the constable-around until he could brace himself against the creature's own body. Teeth bared, he managed to stop the momentum of the limb and snarled, "Let go!"

Letting go seemed like a fine idea to Jack. He dropped and rolled and crushed a little fruit, finally turning in time to see Henry drag the tentacle down to the body of the creature and secure it with another loop of the yellow rope.

No one was that fast. Or that strong.

"What the h.e.l.l are you?" he panted, pulling himself up onto his knees.

He knew when Henry looked up and smiled. He couldn't put it into words-h.e.l.l, he didn't think he could form words right at that moment-but he knew. He knew it in the way the hair rose off the back of his neck, in the way a sudden drop of sweat ran down his side under his s.h.i.+rt, in the way he couldn't seem to catch his breath or hear himself think over the pounding of his heart. He knew it in his bones.

No, in his blood.

And then he fell into dark eyes and he forgot that he knew.

"Hey! You guys! There's a demon heading this..." Tony skidded to a stop, dragging Leah, who was half supporting him, to a stop as well. He stared at the demon-which may or may not have been staring back. The eyestalks were flipping around in a way that made it hard to tell. "Never mind."

"What's with the cherries?" Leah demanded, sc.r.a.ping pulp off the bottom of her high-top.

"Tony's early warning system," Jack grunted, getting to his feet.

"It made cherries?"

"Apparently."

She turned to Tony, who shrugged. They had bigger problems than fruit. He shook free of Leah's hand and shuffled carefully toward Henry. Trouble was, when a romance writer slash vampire fought a demon, it wasn't the romance writer that then had to be dealt with. He could see the Hunter in the set of Henry's shoulders. In the way he was standing, his back to them, perfectly, impossibly still.

At Henry's side, he leaned forward, careful not to touch, and murmured, "If you need..."

"Not from you." A quiet voice. Barely audible. A voice that stroked danger against Tony's skin. "Not after last night."

Last night. This time, he didn't stop himself from touching the mark on his neck. No wonder he was exhausted; it wasn't just the wizardry. "Then who?" The emotional kickback was as important as the blood and Jack, as he'd been insisting to all and sundry, was straight. Leah was far too dangerous.

"Give me a moment."

"Sure." Terror was as valid an emotion as any other and the shadows in Jack's eyes suggested he'd seen something more frightening than the big rubbery monster tied up on the floor. Tony tried not to wonder what would have happened had they got there a little later and had pretty much buried the question by the time Henry turned, the mask of civilization firmly back in place.

Pretty much.

A red-gold brow rose.

Tony shrugged.

"So..." Leah sighed loudly. "... if you two are finished with all the silent communing, you think we could get going on sending Maurice here home?"

"Maurice?" Jack snickered, the sound just this side of hysteria.

She pushed a handful of curls back off her face and smiled, deep dimples appearing in each cheek. "What? You don't think he looks like a Maurice?"

About to tell her to knock it off, Tony realized what she was doing as Jack's shoulders squared and he rubbed a hand back though his hair, standing it up in damp, golden spikes.

"If you're asking, I think he looks like a Barney."

"Isn't Barney a dinosaur?" Her tongue licked a glistening path along her lower lip.

Jack's eyes half closed. "Barney, Fred's neighbor."

The only thing keeping them from consummating the repartee was the demon, tied and p.i.s.sed off, filling the s.p.a.ce between them.

When Ryne Cyratane made his expected appearance, Tony frowned. The Demonlord looked... frustrated?

Because Leah wasn't actually getting any in the here and now?

Because his demonic minions kept failing?

Because he couldn't find the wizard who kept defeating him?

Except this demon hadn't been sent back to h.e.l.l, so how would he know it had been defeated? And why did he look frustrated rather than angry? A glance down and Tony realized the Demonlord wasn't even particularly interested in the whole Jack/Leah dynamic. Interested, yes, but not, well, fully.

"Tony!"

"Sorry." He shook his head as Leah turned her attention to him and Ryne Cyratane faded. He was missing something, something important, but he was just too d.a.m.ned tired to make the effort and figure out what it was. "I'll start drawing the runes."

"Are you strong enough?"

"Sure." Why not lie on the side of truth, justice, and the wizardly way given there was a distinct lack of choice regardless of how he felt. The demon was fighting against the ropes, rocking back and forth and in a few other less easily defined directions.

"Although..." His stomach growled on cue. "... I wouldn't say no to food."

"There's half a bomb bottle of cola left," Jack offered, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at Leah. "And some cherries."

"Close enough." Or not. The cherries had no pits and tasted like cough syrup. Fortunately, the cola, essentially sugar and caffeine, faked nourishment."It's weird how it can't break the rope." Jack circled the demon slowly as Tony began to burn the first rune on the air. "We know it's strong and the rope isn't that thick."

"It's an unnatural rope," Tony reminded him, squinting through the blue lines. "What's weird is that Arra would know that it would work. She never faced demons here in this world."

Leah snorted. "Where do you think her demons came from? Wal-Mart?"

"These are not the demons I know from the past," Henry said quietly as Tony started the second rune. "This poor creature is nothing more than an animal out of its place."

"Let's not forget these things are killers," Jack pointed out.

"They kill to eat," Henry told him. "So do you."

"Yeah, well, so far I've managed to avoid ripping any arms off while I'm having lunch."

"Good for you."

"You're not entirely wrong," Leah broke in before Jack could respond. "Neither of you. These guys are on the low end of the demonic pecking order." She waved a hand at the demon on the floor. It writhed at her. "They're all about the rending and the killing and, yes, the ripping off of arms, but they're not really very motivated by anything other than the rending and the killing.

Relatively speaking, they come from fairly close by. The h.e.l.l that the ancient mystics saw..." She turned her attention to Henry. "...

the h.e.l.l adopted by your religion, that was considerably farther away."

"Your Demonlord is no beast. If he uses these creatures, then he has moved closer without using the gate."

"There's some movement within the h.e.l.ls," Leah admitted. "But he can't get here without help. If you want the big guys, the demons with dialogue and motivations, then you have to call for them specifically. It takes a lot of power to punch a gate through to their level, a couple of artifacts that aren't easy to get, and, if you want to survive it, a will of iron."

"Actually, it's not that hard." Henry folded his arms. "I know a not very bright young man who brought through a creature capable of speech and independent evil with a small barbecue and a few cheap candles."

"Did he survive?"

"Not ultimately, no."