Phoenix Broken (30 page)

Couldn't.

“Neither is this yours.” The demon spun around on the bar stool. His eyebrows raised as he contemplated Scott with a contemptuous smile. "You will never tear Desdemona from me, of that you may be sure."

There was a glint in the demon's eye, a satisfaction that turned what had been purpose into rage.

"We’ll see. We settle this now, Calimente. You and me. I take you down—you cut her loose." His hands beckoned Guido forward. The goons behind the bar immediately reached for their side arms but settled when their boss raised a single finger. He was smiling still, those glittering black eyes intent on Scott.

"You are serious? You would challenge me here, in my own house?" His gaze dropped for half a second. "Humans don't have
cajones
that big.
"

"This one does."

"You,"
Guido laughed outright as he stood. "Maybe I see why she likes you now." The demon made a show of taking off his jacket, shaking it out, laying it on the bar. Removing his rings one by one. "I think you are a little crazy,
bestia."

"No." Scott spoke the single word as a calm settled over him. The calm before the storm. He slid into his stance, his muscles loose, his mind clear.

"No?" Guido was amused as they faced each other. "Then what are you?"

"A whole fucking lot of crazy about to tear you apart."

Guido shook his head, the smile never wavering from his lips. "What has gotten into you? Surely you know you can't beat me. Or perhaps not? Do you have any idea what I am?"

"I know." Scott also knew if Calimente unleashed his demon here, he was dead.

The big demon blinked. "And still you will do this? I know your power now,
para,"
he spit the word from his lips, "and your element is neutered here."

"You'd be surprised what I can do in the middle of the city, but I won't need it. This is just you and me. Bare knuckles. No demon warrior bullshit either. No phasing. You got the cojones for that, demon?"

The demon gave a nod, his eyes narrowed at the intensity in Scott's face. "I am missing something here. This is not mere jealousy. Something else ails you. What?"

"How could you do it?" Scott asked a split second before he threw the first blow. Calimente yanked his head back just in time to avoid a broken nose.

He looked more puzzled as they weaved around each other. "Again I say,
what?"

"You're supposed to be her fucking friend." Scott nailed him; two sharp, staccato blows to the solar plexus that knocked the demon sideways into the bar with a crash, those black eyes going wide. "How could you sell her Psych Out, you piece of shit! Do you have any idea what it did to her?"

Calimente raised his head. The mask of amused indifference dropped. He was eyeing Scott with a swiftly growing fury that could not be feigned. "Are you trying to say that
Desdemona
took Psych Out? That she put a poison in her body to rip out her demon?"

"It wasn't you." Scott stepped back, his hands dropping. "Then who?"

"You think I know? That I would allow such a travesty? Desdemona has no need to hide what she is from
me."
Flames kindled deep in the demon's eyes, red burning through all that blackness. "No,
bestia.
She did this for you."

The blow came out of nowhere.

The next thing Scott knew he was waking up flat on his back on the bar, with the mother of all headaches.

"Shit." He glanced down in surprise, rubbing his eyes. "I'm alive."

There was a grunt from somewhere behind him. "She has said I am not permitted to kill you."

Scott twisted to see Calimente behind the bar, holding a glass. The room appeared empty, the goons had gone, though no doubt they'd return quickly enough if their boss decided he had need of them.

"It is unfortunate," the demon continued, spreading his hands wide and shrugging, "but what can one do?" He reached behind him to hold out a bottle. "You want?"

Scott squinted, his vision a bit blurred.
Midleton Very Rare.

Damn.

"Hell yes, I want." He slid from the bar into a stool, gingerly examining the gigantic sore spot over his ear with two fingers. His head felt like it'd been split from one side to the other. "How many times did you fucking hit me?"

The demon chuckled as he splashed whisky in Scott's glass. "Once."

"It was a sneak attack."

"That you deserved."

Scott shrugged. He'd give the demon that one.

Taking the proffered drink, he took a slow sip. "That's damn good whisky."

Guido saluted him with his own glass, but said nothing. The demon seemed to be waiting for something.

Scott decided to give it to him straight. "I won't share her."

"And you are under the impression that I would?" Calimente's eyes were like black ice. "Desdemona is not mine,
bestia
. If she were… you’d already be dead." He leaned forward, big hands flat on the bar, "and should you hurt her, something I deem likely, rest assured we will finish what we started here today. And the next time, don't expect to wake up."

"Fair enough." Scott swallowed the last of his whisky and got to his feet. "Do you love her?”

Calimente didn't flinch, but his lip curled. "Love is a human concept, it is not demon."

"Funny, it seems like Augustine didn't agree, did he? You said yourself he loved Des' mom.”

“I said he worshiped Marie, never that he loved her. Though perhaps he did." The demon shrugged. "Who am I to say?”

Scott shook his head, “Talk about not knowing your own mind. I can see it when you look at her, Calimente. What do you feel for Des if not love?”

The demon's fingers spasmed on the bar. He caught Scott looking and his hand stilled. "What I feel for Desdemona is akin to what you call 'love'. Possibly. It is loyalty, protectiveness and the intent to see her happy. Along with a thirst to kill any who cause her pain." Those black eyes flashed meaningfully at Scott.

"Yup. Sounds like love to me."

The demon made a dismissive gesture. "It is family, it is
the blood
. This is demon. We protect our own."

"Ha. She's not your own—to your people she's filth."

Chaos burned bright in the demon's eyes at his words.

Scott was forced to look away, but he wouldn't back down. "It is more than family between you and her." He gritted out between clenched teeth, his head aching.

Guido whirled, a snarl twisting his lips as he got in Scott's face. "Why won't you let this go?"

"Because you are lying to me. And lying to her." That last had been a guess, but from the look on Calimente’s face it hit home.

A growl issued from the bigger man. He came around the bar.
"I. Cannot. Lie
. And that is yet another mortal insult, bestia. I should kill you now."

Scott shook his head and stood his ground as the demon approached, even as Guido's eyes flashed red and sent a shaft of pain burrowing into his skull. "No."

"No?" The demon looked curious.

"You already said you wouldn’t kill me. Trash talk isn’t real effective if I know it’s bullshit. Just FYI.”

Guido tilted his head. Then blew out a long-suffering sigh, the flames in his eyes died. "Okay. This is truth. So, I beat you bloody." He smiled. "Maybe break a few bones."

"Enough showing me your goddamn dick, Calimente. I get it, we've been doing this dance awhile. You're bad-ass, I'm bad-ass—" Scott stopped abruptly. There was the strangest look on the demon's face; as if he were going to choke, or throw up. His cheeks had gone an alarming shade of magenta. An odd sound came from his throat.

Alarmed, Scott leapt backward. "What the fuck, man? Are you gonna hurl?"

Guido bent forward, his arms resting on his knees. His whole body was shaking. Then Scott realized he was laughing. Laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Scott could only stand there, staring at him, the supposed pride of the Convenīre. He was baffled. "Have you lost your demon mind?"

"Showing me…your…god…damn dick." Guido managed to choke out. Scott actually flushed, before he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, for shit's sake, it just means—"

"I get what it means, human." Guido wiped tears away, a wide grin on his face as he stared up at Scott. "I just love the turn of phrase. For such a prudish race, your kind has the most colorful use of language. It never fails to amuse me."

"Soo—"

The demon waved him silent before he could say anymore, the amusement fading from that dark face. “Enough. This subject is closed. For now.”

It irked him, but Scott had no choice but to let it go. “And the Psych Out issue?”

The demon growled. "I will find who gave it to her." He said nothing further, but he didn't have to. It was only when Scott turned to go that the raspy voice spoke up again.

"I think you staked a claim today. Whether you admit it or no,
bestia."

Scott shook his head. "I'll rip the hide off anyone who tries to hurt her, Calimente, but I told you, it's not like that."

"Is it not? Yet, you came to me. Thinking to protect her. You did that here, in my domain. You challenged
me."
The tone held baffled amazement, along with a tinge of respect.

Scott looked over his shoulder. The demon's eyes were hooded over his whisky.

"There are few demons who would contemplate doing such a thing, and no men. I think
you
lie."

Scott bristled, but Guido raised a hand. "It's what men do. They lie. To others, yes. But to themselves most of all. Demons, we cannot. Desdemona is not bound as we are," he lifted his eyebrows, "but untruths…they are a skill she wields ineffectually at best. Neither does she know how to protect herself from them."

The warning was clear. Scott nodded slowly, his face grim.

"Yeah, self-defense isn't really her forte, is it? She said you taught her to fight. Nice job there, demon."

It was Calimente's turn to bristle. "What do you mean by this? Desdemona is an
excellent
combatant.”

"Yes. She's good, even very good. But her heart's not in it. Surely you've seen that. She never goes for the jugular. Des is a fighter, but in her own way. Not ours. With that assassin the other night—"

"Assassin?" There was a violent curse in what had to be Saanis. Whirling, the demon threw his drink at the wall. Glass shattered. Calimente cursed again in a voice that could strip skin from bone.

Then there was silence, broken only by dripping whisky. The demon spoke, enunciating every word. "You are saying the attacks have started again? On Desdemona's life?"

Scott frowned as he studied the demon.

This had bothered him since the beginning. It had never made sense to him. Why would Des go to Miles' for help? A man she clearly did not trust, and who absolutely did not trust her? Why do that, when her best friend was so powerful?

Miles had said she didn't want to place Calimente in the middle. But in the middle of
what?
"I thought she tells you everything?"

"Except things she believes will hurt me." The look on the demon's face made Scott's head pound again. Calimente was close to losing control. "When was this?"

"About ten days ago." He hesitated, then shrugged. "We think it may have been a professional. Someone called the Dullahan."

Something shifted in the demon's face, so infinitesimal Scott wondered if he'd imagined it. "I have heard the name. Surely you are mistaken. It is said such a man—should he exist—does not miss."

"He exists, and if it was him, he definitely missed." Again, Scott went on the attack. "Was he the one who killed Des’ mother, Calimente?”

"How would I know?" Stone would give away more than the demon's face, so Scott tried another tactic.

"I looked into that, you know."

"Did you now?" The demon's voice was carefully bland. "And what did you find?"

"Marie Valerie Guérin nee' Chaput. Of course, we both know
Baptiste
is Augustine's true surname, but you all don't use those outside the Saandon, do you?" Calimente didn't respond, but his nostrils flared.

"She was born in Saint-Père-sur-Loire in 1959. Marriage license on file in Kingston, Jamaica 1987. Two years before Desdemona was born. How old were you then, Calimente?"

The demon only continued to stare at the polished bar. Scott continued. "Certificate of death dated early last year shows she died of natural causes. Obvious bullshit."

"How so?" Calimente stared at him, his eyes black as night, his voice bone dry. "What could be more natural than a human dying in the Saandon? Especially a human such as Marie."

"You mean her connection to Miles Rousseau?"

Calimente stiffened, then swore softly. Scott smiled. Finally a chink in the armor.

"Didn't think I'd figure that out, did you? Marie's father, Alain Guérin was in the employ of the Marquis Miles de Rousseau until his death two years ago."

"That death you can't lay at demon's feet."

"No," Scott shook his head. "You're right about that. Alain was by all accounts a close friend of Miles. What was his daughter to Augustine? A trophy, maybe? You said he worshipped her? Is that what you meant? Was she some way to get back at Miles?"

"Ask your vampire friend."

"I intend to." And he did. As soon as he had some idea what the hell he was dealing with. "Who killed her? Are they the same ones that are after Des?"

"I know nothing for certain." If not an outright lie, those words were certainly an evasion.

"Does Desdemona?"

"Ask her. Perhaps she will tell you."

Silence stretched, neither Scott nor the demon said anything. Whiskey continued to drip from the walls, the heavy scent everywhere. Scott wondered if Calimente was as confused as him and decided that was highly unlikely. The demon gave a half smile as if sensing his frustration.

"Tell me, bestia, will you give this Dullahan another chance to get close to her?"

"No. I'll be the only thing close to Desdemona. You can bet on that."

Calimente's jaw tightened. Scott walked away, but he caught the demon's sandpaper whisper before the door shut.

"Oh I am, bestia.
I am."

Halloween dawned bright and unseasonably warm. Scott had gone to Des twice since their first encounter. Each time only seemed to whet his need for her to a finer, sharper edge, messing with his head.

But he
had
managed to clear some other things up.

Jules agreed Des could stay an officially unofficial employee of Phoenix, backing Scott all the way.

"Without her you won't even get in that damn club if Docie May ever does show again. We need her, no matter what Miles thinks. And of fucking course, we'll continue to protect her."

He'd been gratified at the boss man's response, but it turned out they had help anyway. Lots of it. Calimente had placed two shifts of his own men on Des, round the clock.

When Des found out, she grilled Scott until he admitted he had told the big demon about the attack by the Dullahan. She'd been furious. Scary even.

Scott frowned as he pulled Tish's hair back into a fluffy ponytail. And of course, she hadn't told him why. That had made
him
furious.

That two nights ago. They hadn't spoken since. Today was all about his kids, so he wouldn't be going to her, but tomorrow was another story. One way or the other that damn woman was going to—

"Where's the fangs Miss Mags got me?" Toby popped his head around the bathroom door as Scott finished tying off Tish's bandanna. He reached down to the basket with all their costume props at his feet and pulled out the fangs, dropping them in Toby's hand.

"Thanks." Toby slipped in the fangs, then flashed them at the mirror with an over the top growl, making Tish laugh and Scott smile. He grabbed a tube of fake blood from the pile on the counter and dabbed it on liberally. "I wonder what Miss Des is doing tonight."

Scott raised his eyebrows as his son's dark eyes met his in the mirror. There was no damn way his kids could know anything about him and Des—no
logical
way—but Fannie's touch of power ran through them both and sometimes…