Demon's Fire (25 page)

As pale and shaky as Pahndir was, it wouldn’t have taken more than a tap. How he’d managed not to keel over before this, she’d never know.

“Let her,” Charles said, to her surprise. “If your cousin follows her thinking she’s you, we’ll have a chance to take him from behind.”

Pahndir didn’t seem strong enough to take anyone from any direction. Charles gave Beth a look that said he knew this. Reassured that her friend wouldn’t let the prince kill himself protecting her, Beth ignored Pahndir’s curses and drew his bloodied robes over her own clothes.

She began to run a breath before Muto’s car slid to a halt, spraying sand. His headlights were extinguished, just like theirs had been. Charles held Pahndir hidden behind their jeep, out of Muto’s line of sight. Beth prayed the moonlight would turn her into a good enough double for her beloved.

It seemed it did. She heard Muto running after her down the entry ramp to Tou’s chamber, her hearing sharpened by the hush of the desert night. No doubt Muto could hear her, too. She could run as fast as she wanted without losing him. That was very fast, as it happened. She found she was more frightened now that she was alone, and the fear spurred her body to new limits. She pelted down the long tunnel, her heart thundering in her chest as if it were three times its normal size.

Muto’s silence unnerved her. Shouldn’t he be threatening all manner of awful things? Wasn’t that what proper villains did? Even Sahel’s women had taken time to mock her.

She had to slow as she ran deeper into the passage where the moonlight failed. The darkness was complete, a thick, black blanket before her eyes. She was thankful there were no turnoffs, and she needn’t fear getting lost. She wished she could hear Pahndir or Charles trailing Muto, but it was probably better that she could not.

A second after she had the thought, she tripped headlong.

Luckily, only the heels of her hands were scraped. She scrambled up as fast as she could, realizing she’d fallen over the granite threshold to Tou’s chamber. The sounds of Muto’s pursuit sped up. She moved into the room, her hands waving before her to keep from bumping into anything. She hoped the Yama was as blind as she was and then remembered the space was empty. Herrington’s crew had transferred all the goods out for preservation. All she had to do was find that damn ceiling hook.

Help me, Tou,
she prayed.
Help me survive my enemies as you did yours.

The answer came as waves of prickles across her skin.

“Pull me,” hissed a whisper directly over her head.

Beth gathered her faith and jumped higher than she ever had in her life.

Her fingers caught the hook on her second try. She clung to it, her weight forcing the section of ceiling down. As soon as her feet touched ground, she fumbled for the toggle switch and slapped it. The quiet sound of the wall rolling open told her where to run. She stopped right on the track of the door, hoping the slab of stone wouldn’t grind shut on her.

“I am for you,” said the disembodied voice from her first visit. “Let any man who breaks the sanctity of this chamber feel my eternal wrath.”

That’s what I’m counting on,
Beth thought.

The muscles of her heart pumped harder as she realized Prince Muto had found his way into the room after her. The sound of his scuffling footsteps and labored breathing were now coming from yards away.

“I knew you weren’t going to give up your power,” he said, the first words she’d heard from him. “I knew you were going to fight to hang onto it.”

Beth said nothing, willing him to come toward the sound of her panting breaths. She gripped the sides of the doorway, her nerves wound to the snapping point.

This, naturally, was when whatever it was that haunted Tou’s chamber shot her plan straight to hell.

Behind her in the hidden room, small blue flames sprang to life on the matte black walls, as if some thick, flammable gelatin had been spread across them and set alight. As she and Muto gaped at each other in the eerie illumination, it was difficult to say which of them was more dismayed.

Or maybe not so difficult, seeing as Muto had a big silver pistol pointed straight at her.

The demon’s mouth twitched like little shocks were going through the muscles. Against all expectations, the twitches turned into a laugh.

He sounded like he had some experience with the habit.

“Oh, my,” he said, unshed tears of amusement glittering in his eyes. “I should have known my cousin would find another female to hide behind. Fortunately for me, I’m going to enjoy killing you as much as I did his wife.”

“You killed his
wife
?” Beth’s gasp was one of undiluted horror—not for herself but for Pahndir. She remembered the grief that had shadowed him at the clothier’s. He’d blamed himself for Thallah’s choice.

Faced with her expression, Muto laughed again. “Oh, if you could see yourself. Of course I killed her. Suicide isn’t hard to fake, and I knew her loss would send him around the bend.” One-handed, he cocked the hammer of his weapon and steadied its aim on her. “I must say, this encounter is even more delightful than the first. Just like a scene from a human novel. You make me wish I had a mustache to twirl.”

Muto was moving closer as he spoke. Two yards. One. The muzzle of the silver gun looked black in the dancing light. Beth didn’t dare step backward until he was nearer. She sensed the chamber’s keenness to shut her up in it again, to add more enhancements to her body, to enjoy after all these years its version of company.

“You won’t get away with this,” she said, which she thought would please him.

It must have, because he giggled, a sound she never thought she’d hear a Yama make.

“I should probably threaten your virtue,” he snickered, “though I doubt my randy cousin left you much of that.”

Muto lifted the hand that didn’t hold his gun toward her, undoubtedly intending a caress. Not about to miss her chance, Beth grabbed his wrist and heaved him into the chamber with every scrap of her unnatural strength.

Muto was so unprepared for her to do this that he nearly flew into the room’s back wall. Sparks showered outward from where his head thunked as he stumbled.

The concussion seemed to wake the chamber up.

“Let any man,” stammered its guardian spirit. “Let any man who invades the—” More sparks spat from the ceiling at its broken words, followed by a forking bolt of electricity. “You do not belong here. You are not our goddess!”

Muto had been stunned when he hit the wall, but now he sat up and shook his head. “What the—”

Beth’s gaze went to the gun he’d dropped, which Muto was absently reaching for. She was close enough to grab it, but her time was up. Behind her, she could hear the door beginning to hiss shut.

Left without a choice, she turned and dove for the narrowing exit like a swimmer at the shallow end of a pool. Her form would have benefited from practice. She skidded to a halt halfway out. Cursing, she braced her hands outside the opening and wriggled frantically farther. Her hips were through the door, her legs…

“Stop,” Muto shouted. “Stop right now!”

Beth’s feet were losing their purchase. The floor behind her didn’t feel as hard as it should, more like molten rubber than stone. Maybe the change hindered Muto, too. She expected him to grab her ankle any second, but he fired his gun instead. The shot ricocheted off the stone an inch from her foot. The door was nipping at her ankle, threatening to trap her there. She yanked as hard as she could, ripping a layer of leather off her boot to win freedom.

And then she was safe, alone in Tou’s dark bedchamber with a seamless wall of granite between her and the enemy. Relief caused her limbs to shake so badly she could scarcely stand.

Her head swam with dizziness. Deep rumbling noises were rising inside the chamber. She heard the gun go off again, twice, but whatever Muto was yelling was indecipherable.

She didn’t want to dwell on what the chamber was doing to him, didn’t want to feel shame for consigning any living being to that.

Oh, God,
she thought, imagining how furious the Yama must be.
Please let the door stay closed.

Her hands were flattened to her chest in prayer when another person stumbled into the cavelike gloom.

“Beth,” Charles panted. “I heard gunshots!”

“I’m all right,” she said, then cleared her throat so she could be heard. “Muto’s trapped in the secret room.”

Practical genius that he was, Charles turned on the electric torch he must have stashed in the boot of Herrington’s vehicle. He’d been waiting to turn it on until he was sure it wouldn’t make her Muto’s target. If she looked as bad as he did, it was little wonder that he’d worried. He was pale as milk in the strong white light.

“Beth,” he said, and flung his arms around her.

It took a moment for her to realize he was crying. When she did, her heart squeezed tight.

“Shh,” she said, deeply moved but disconcerted. Her oldest friend simply wasn’t a weepy man. “He didn’t shoot me. We’re safe for now.”

“I tried to stay right behind you, but you ran too fast.”

“It’s just as well you couldn’t. Muto would have heard you, Charles. He would have shot you.”

“He could have shot
you
!”

His tone was so aggrieved she had to fight a smile. “Pahndir was right. Muto wanted to kill him face to face, which, believe me, I had no intention of showing him.”

That she had shown him her face she decided to keep to herself.

Charles hugged her tighter, his nose buried in her hair. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“You won’t.” She rubbed the shuddering plane of muscle between his shoulders. An echo of desire brushed her like a feather and flicked away. His warmth, his hold, steadied her as nothing else could have. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but it felt wonderful to know she meant this much to him. She let her head rest against his shoulder a moment longer, then leaned back to stroke her knuckles down his tear-wet cheek. The faintest prick of stubble rasped her skin. “Where is Pahndir? I’ve discovered something he needs to know.”

Charles’s arms fell from her, a guardedness entering his expression.

“He was too woozy from losing blood to come with me. I left him in the car. He said it had a communication device. He was going to signal Herrington for help.”

Beth couldn’t keep from pulling a face. Explaining this to their employer wasn’t going to be fun. Then a worse thought had her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh, no! How are we going to break the news about Sahel?”

“It’s already broken,” Herrington said in his coolest tone. He was so angry he feared if he let one particle of fury escape his hold, he’d simply explode.

The idiot prince had explained a portion of the penny-dreadful tale on the way, having insisted that Herrington drag him—bullet wound and all—down the damned tunnel. Herrington had fully expected to be greeted with the slain bodies of his charges, but finding the pair alive had no positive effect whatsoever on his temper.

They were lucky he’d been close when Pahndir called, lucky he’d purchased a replacement vehicle so he could quarter the city in search of them. Most of all, they were lucky his nature was too evolved to turn the ire he felt over having been involved with Sahel onto them. He’d never thought the chieftain was a law-abiding citizen, but he’d also never thought her felonious tendencies would impinge on him.

Above all things, Herrington hated being wrong.

His face must have shown more than he wanted.

“We’re sorry we stole your car!” Beth burst out.

“You’re sorry you
stole my car
?” His rage swelled even hotter when she flinched back. “You should be sorry you didn’t trust me! You should be sorry you didn’t turn to me for help! Do you know what it did to me when you went missing?”

“You were seeing the chieftain,” Charles said. “And you didn’t want us seeing Pahndir. We thought you might have arranged for her to kidnap him.”

“If I had, I wouldn’t have
tortured
him!” Herrington roared.

“Herrington,” Pahndir said, probably because Herrington was clenching the prince’s good arm hard enough to cut off its blood supply.

Mortified by his lack of control, Herrington released Pahndir. He shook his human-style frock coat back into place. “All I did was investigate him, and that’s all I would have done once I saw he meant something to you. I would have helped you rescue him if you’d asked. Your safety—” He cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn’t regret admitting this. “I value your lives more than arranging the world to suit me.”

Beth was gawking at him, wide-eyed, as if this declaration took her by surprise.

“I feel
concern
for you,” Herrington huffed.

Beth blinked at him, and then she smiled, and then she was striding toward him with an alarming glint of purpose in her human eyes. Sure enough, before he could gather himself to avoid it, she pulled him into an embrace. He truly didn’t mean to, but his hand came up to cradle the back of her tangled hair. His emotions rose as she held him, a bit of her affection bleeding into his. Despite the blurring, he knew he cared about her then. For one thing, she was filthy enough to stink.

“We’re sorry,” she said, her arms tightening around him. “We’ll never doubt you again.”

“I
would
have kidnapped him,” he muttered, “if I’d thought he meant you harm.”

“I don’t,” Pahndir said. “I don’t wish either of them anything but happiness.”

Either of them
was more than Herrington wanted to discuss right then, no more than he wanted to discuss how impassioned Pahndir was sounding. Composing his face, he set Beth firmly back from him.

“Now,” he said, “why don’t you tell me why that wall looks like it’s filled with live wires.”

Beth’s head jerked around, her expression startled. The stone had gone partially translucent, revealing the obviously faulty circuitry it had hidden. Voltage was running amok through the metal maze. When Beth winced sheepishly at the sight, Herrington knew for certain he wouldn’t like her answer.

“Er…There’s a secret chamber behind that wall. I think it’s—That is, I’m relatively certain it’s killing Muto, assuming it hasn’t finished him off already.”

Herrington fought not to rub the ache behind his forehead. “Why would you think it’s doing that?”

“Because it doesn’t like men?” She gnawed her lip. “We could open the door and check if you have a weapon. Muto was pretty bent on killing someone when I trapped him there.”

Herrington stared at her, debating, then pulled his special-permit nine-millimeter automatic from the inside pocket of his coat. “Go ahead. If he’s alive, I’ll cover him.”

“There’s a hook that opens it,” Beth said, pointing at the ceiling a few feet back.

She didn’t get a chance to show him how she’d managed to reach it earlier. Without warning, the intermittent lightning that ran through the wall picked up speed and flared. A high-pitched whining set Herrington’s teeth on edge. The sound took him back to his long-ago military training.

It reminded Pahndir of something, too. “Down!” the prince yelled half a second before the granite wall exploded.

Stone flew like shrapnel, filling the torchlit chamber with shards and dust. A weight slammed onto Herrington’s back as he landed, driving the air from his lungs. Fearing the ceiling had collapsed, he was relieved to hear everyone coughing into the resulting cloud. His companions might be choking, but they weren’t dead.

“Ow,” Beth complained, between spasms. “You didn’t all have to jump on me!”

In spite of himself, Herrington began to laugh. They had all leaped to cover her. Thanks to his slower human reflexes, Charles had ended up on top. He staggered off, his hair gray with dust, and helped Pahndir do the same. Their removal enabled Herrington to sit cross-legged on the floor.

He didn’t bother trying to stand; his nerves were too shot for that. The fallen torch lay in the smoking rubble, allowing his archaeologist’s eye to assess how much of his discovery remained intact. Most, from what he could see, though the wall that had exploded was a total loss. Behind the now gaping maw, Herrington saw nothing but broken rock and scorch marks. The chamber’s involuntary inhabitant, and whatever else it had housed, had been obliterated as completely as if they’d never existed.

From what Herrington knew of Prince Muto, he’d have been annoyed to hear his big death scene had passed unremarked.

No body to explain,
thought the purely Yamish part of his brain. It took a moment to consider the likelihood that the desert’s creatures were performing a similar service for Sahel. Herrington made a note to keep an eye on her surviving tribe members, to ensure they didn’t come after Beth or Charles for revenge.

“Well,” he said above the ringing in his ears. “I believe this settles the question of showing mercy to Pahndir’s cousin. Not to mention giving
you
”—he pinned Beth with his steeliest gaze—“plenty of time to fill in the holes in this story.”

“Clearly,” Pahndir said, “that chamber contained an artificial intelligence.”

“Oh, clearly,” Beth agreed, sharing an eye roll with Charles.

They sat around the polished table in Herrington’s formal dining room, nursing cups of coffee beneath the sparkling, pony-size chandelier.

Beth wasn’t ready to claim her boss had warmed up to her lover, but she’d noticed the meal he’d requested included enough red meat to build the blood cells of an army of wounded men. He’d loaned Pahndir a Northern-style shirt and trousers from his own supply. Beth would have said this was a ploy to prevent her from staring at Pahndir’s chest, except he’d also ordered the butler to treat his bullet wound. At the least, Herrington seemed unable to shake his inbred deference for Pahndir’s rank, a reaction she suspected the prince was happy to encourage.