Dance in the Dark (35 page)

Johnnie drew a sharp breath as he realized he was reading about his parents. As he read, he realized the case was about how his mother had finally entered the mortal plane, after his father was nearly killed by a rival succubus.

He set it hastily aside, the whole thing suddenly too much. It was not what he was looking for, anyway. Except, as he picked up the first of several pages of loose paper, he realized perhaps the old case was more pertinent to the present than he realized.

Because those names kept coming up—Chris, Doug. He knew those names. Chris was the Consort—Phil's boss. Doug was another detective. But he had seen them somewhere else, too. The first piece of paper he picked up was a detailed explanation of the spell that had been cast on Johnnie, elaborating on what it would do, how long it would last, and what could happen if it was ever removed.

A later letter, from someone named Jed, detailed the love spell which Ekaterina had mentioned, and about which Johnnie had surmised. It had not actually been a proper love spell, he saw, reading the letter. Ontoniel had wanted him protected from such things, as he was not entirely convinced the threat was gone forever. By infatuating him with someone—his brother—he would be unharmed but safe from the tampering of others, until the spell should naturally cancel upon his actually falling in love.

Johnnie tried to be angry, but he was simply too damned wrung out. He no longer cared what Ontoniel had done to him. He just wanted his father and everyone else back.

Who was Jed? The sorcerer? But other than that one letter, there was nothing more about him. Johnnie read through all the papers, but at the end of it all the only sure bit he had to go on was that Chris had been the initial mastermind in all of it—rescuing his father, helping to bring his mother into the mortal plane, helping them move to Ontoniel's territory and later setting them up with Jed.

Mixed in with the various papers was a single business card for one Sable Brennus. On the back of it, however, was Chris' name and a single phone number. It was a starting point, and he could do nothing but hope that it took him to this Jed he obviously needed to find.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly punched in the number, sick with anxiety while it began to ring.

After the fifth ring, just as he wanted to scream in frustration, a sleepy, husky voice said, "White Detective Agency."

"Hello," Johnnie said. "I apologize for calling at so terrible an hour—"

"So you do realize it is two in the morning?" the man asked, voice dry with amusement.

"Yes," Johnnie snapped, losing what patience he had managed to retain. "I am all too well aware of the hour, but it is a matter of life and death. Unless you relish the idea of being party to the death of the Dracula Desrosiers and his family, I suggest you cease with your ill-timed attempts at humor and provide some genuine assistance."

There was a startled silence, then a soft laugh. "Yes, my lord," the man said teasingly. "One moment, I will fetch Christian." Johnnie heard the man set the phone down, and could just barely hear him speaking to someone else.

After another minute or so, another voice came on the line, sleepy sounding but more alert and markedly more serious than the first. "This is Chris. What's wrong?"

"My name is Johnnie Desrosiers," Johnnie said. "I do not know if you remember me—"

"Of course I do," Chris said, suddenly sounding completely awake. "Your parents were good people. Phil mentioned you yesterday, and I finally realized her 'friend Johnnie' was you. What's wrong? Phil and Zach went to help you with a case tonight."

Johnnie laughed, because otherwise he would simply lose his mind. "They were—they are—they tried but everything has gone wrong."

"I'll come right over—"

"No!" Johnnie screamed desperately into the phone. "You cannot. If you enter this house, you will fall under the same curse. She put a Sleeping Beauty—"

"Meet me outside the house, then," Chris said. "I'll fetch you, and you can tell me everything, and we'll figure out what to do."

Johnnie started to tell him that there was no time, that he needed to talk to Jed, but all that came out was, "All right."

The phone went dead, and he closed his own, then rose shakily to his feet. Gathering up all the papers, he strode to the main entryway and pulled out a leather case to put them all in. Then he pulled on his coat, hat, and retrieved his cane.

Outside, he locked the door—then turned around and jumped, seeing someone who had not been there a moment ago.

He was handsome, if dressed in clothes that clearly had seen better days and needed to be retired. Blue, blue eyes, tousled gold hair, and the power of a demon poured off him in such strength that Johnnie once more found himself sneezing so hard he thought he would break something.

"Johnnie Goodnight," Chris said softly. "You have grown up well—but I can see this is neither the time nor the place. Come on, we'll go to my place and figure it all out."

He sounded so calm, so certain,
steady
, that Johnnie did not even think about, simply took the hand that Chris held out and let him teleport them away.

They reappeared in a room that was elegant, classy, and simple. A black leather sofa dominated the space, facing a massive fireplace, in which a fire had obviously been recently lit. Windows ran floor to ceiling along the entire length of the room, looking out and down onto a rain-soaked city many stories below.

Leaning against the windows, half in shadow, was a striking man with dark, wildly curly hair and eyes the color of thunderclouds. Unlike Chris, he was well dressed in dark slacks and a gray sweater. The magic and power radiating off him was so great that Johnnie went right back to sneezing. When he finally got control of it, he could only gasp out, "You are the demon lord Sable Brennus, are you not?"

"Guilty as charged," Sable said cheerfully, moving toward them and immediately kissing Chris' cheek, ignoring the scowl that got him. "You are the one who just took me to task. Johnnie Desrosiers, formerly Johnnie Goodnight. That is a name I remember well, though I have not heard it in more than passing for over fifteen years."

Johnnie could not think of a reply to that.

"Sit here," Chris said, and took his coat and hat—but Johnnie would not relinquish the cane.

Moving obediently to the couch, he slumped down in it and wished he could simply go to sleep.

"Would you like something to drink?" Chris asked. "Coffee, tea…?"

"Whiskey, brandy," Sable added more playfully. "Perhaps the best of both worlds, my housekeeper makes a mean hot toddy."

Hot toddy—Johnnie bit back more sobbing laughter, burying his face in one hand. He would give anything to hear a certain hot toddy voice right now, anything and everything. "N-n-no," he finally managed. "I am fine. I-I apologize for the unseemly hour."

"Forget it," Chris said. "Tell me everything."

Johnnie looked up at him, staring for what seemed an eternity—then the dam finally broke, and he spilled out everything.

At some point, Sable pressed a drink into his hand, but it was not until he finally finished recounting everything that Johnnie bothered to take a sip of it. Scotch, he noticed, and his eyes burned—it was his father's favorite kind.

He took another sip, and by the third it actually managed to be soothing.

"What a mess," Chris said with a long sigh, raking a hand absently through his hair. "I think you are right, unfortunately—getting Jed to break your spell and sending you into dreams is the most effective route, at least for now. We will work on other things, anyway, but she sounds like she was too thorough for anyone's peace of mind. If we truly cannot enter that house, then we cannot find the spell key to destroy it and break the curse. It sounds like it is rigged against tampering, anyway. So, you will have to go into dreams, if only to break the spells on them that way."

Johnnie nodded. "But first we must break the spell, and there is every chance that doing so will kill me."

"Maybe," Chris replied. "But this is Jed we're talking about. He's not your usual caliber of sorcerer. I will give him a call; he should be here by morning, and we can further discuss the matter."

"No—we need to do this now—" Johnnie stood up, then abruptly sat back down again, feeling horribly dizzy and suddenly exhausted. He looked up at Sable. "What …"

"Sleeping spells might not work," Sable said with entirely too much cheer, "but drugs work on everyone, and you need to rest. You can't save the world if you're exhausted."

Johnnie glared at him, or tried, but it was suddenly so very difficult to keep his eyes open.

The last thing he remembered was the sound of soft laughter, and two voices quietly talking.

Johnnie woke with a jerk, then slumped over, feeling groggy and heavy-headed. Where was he? Not the Bremen. Not his father's home.

Father.

He jerked up, memories flooding back, and remembered he was in the home of Sable Brennus. Voices drew him then, and he slowly stood up and turned, looking over the couch to where a group of men were gathered.

Chris and Sable he recognized, but not the other three. One was a short man with red hair and freckles; harmless looking, but Johnnie had long ago learned to mark that unidentifiable
something
that designated an imp. Recalling all that Phil had ever said about her comrades, this must be Doug.

The other two he did not know at all. Of the two, one was just barely taller than Doug, about even with Chris—definitely not as tall as Sable or the other man. He was quiet, studious looking, with glasses, mussed hair, and wearing a blue and black flannel shirt over a black t-shirt, and faded stone-washed jeans. Power radiated off him, and nearly made Johnnie sneeze, except this time he was braced for it.

Nearby, the last man stood watching the studious one with open fondness. He was handsome, almost pretty—and there was an unmistakable collar around his neck. Of all the enslaved races, only one wore collars imbued with so much magic. "Angel," Johnnie said, too surprised to remember to be quiet.

Almost as one, the five men turned to look at him.

"You're awake," Sable said drolly.

Johnnie glared at him. "You drugged me."

"Children do not always know what's best for them," Sable said mockingly.

"I do not think you have room to be calling anyone a child," Johnnie said coldly.

Chris and Doug burst out laughing, and Chris slid his lover a smirk. "He has you there, Sable."

"You never take my side," Sable complained, but then gave Johnnie an approving smile. "You are precisely as we have always heard—as cold and beautiful as any vampire. Given you're a human, and barely into proper adulthood, I would say you are a better vampire. Then again, you are half incubus."

Johnnie said nothing, merely moved around the couch to join them, looking at the other two men.

The shorter, more studious one smiled in a friendly, easy manner and held out a hand. "So you are Johnnie Goodnight, all these years later. My name is Jed."

"Oh," Johnnie said, surprised even though he knew he should not be. "My father's notes were not terribly helpful in finding you. I surmised it was because you are so powerful, which I am more convinced of now."

Jed looked at him in surprise. "You can tell my power level?"

"I can smell it," Johnnie replied. "You and Lord Brennus both smell very strongly of magic; if I do not watch it you will cause me to start sneezing."

"Fascinating," Jed said. "I've never known someone who can
smell
magic; what an intriguing way to—"

"Master," the angel cut in, smiling fondly. "You can study him later."

Jed laughed and shook his head, then smiled sheepishly at Johnnie. "Of course, forgive me. Charlie is right. We have been working on the problem of the spell I put on you almost twenty-seven years ago. Even with my skills, it is no easy matter to strip away a spell that was laid on you before you were even born. Casting it took me hours; breaking it without killing you …" He shrugged and spread his hands. "I just don't know."

"We do not have a choice," Johnnie said, "so the point is moot. So long as you
can
break it, the rest is up to me. I am not going to die."

The angel—Charlie, had Jed called him?—laughed. "You are quite stubborn."

Johnnie said nothing, merely stared at him coolly. What did they expect, that he would simply let his family, his friends, wither and die because he was too scared to risk death himself? He had lost Bergrin, he was on the verge of losing his family. He quite literally had nothing left to lose; what did he give a damn about risking his own life if there was a chance to save the people who mattered to him?

Sable clapped his shoulder. "As I said, better than any vampire. Let him see the different circles you have been sketching out, though I think it does not matter which one you go with. I believe him when he says he will not let himself die."

"I think you are both reckless idiots," Chris snapped. "No one can endure the breaking of such a spell easily—do not be flippant."

"Yes, beloved," Sable replied, but winked at Johnnie before going to get a drink.