Phoenix Broken (35 page)

Centaries was dark and still. Thursday was the only night the club closed. It looked like something dead without the cars filling the parking lot and the floodlights and neon signs glaring. He knew Miles would curse him for being a fool, but he didn’t call anyone. Spider face had left when Des had, tailing her.

Calimente himself answered the door. Scott stepped past him without a word. The shadowy interior of the club appeared empty, no one but him and the demon. Scott looked back as the door closed.

“No henchmen or minions tonight?”

“Minions. That’s cute. Who am I, Gru?”

Scott blinked. Guido gave a thin smile. “Didn’t expect me to use that reference, did you?”

“It’s a little weird.” Scott admitted. Fannie had loved that damn movie. They'd watched it so many times with the kids every scene was burned into his memory. Knowing this demon had watched it, too, was more than weird. It was kind of disturbing.

“I like your children’s movies. The villains amuse me. Particularly that one.”

“He’s not really a villain.”

“Isn’t he?” Guido gave him a look. "Imagine that."

“We’re not children, Calimente. And you're definitely the bad guy." But despite himself, Scott was wondering.

“You do not trust me." Guido brushed past him to lead the way past the bar and into that hallway where Des had pulled him that first night.

Scott forced a laugh as the demon opened a door to a stairwell and headed down. “As if you trust me.”

“Actually, I do trust you, at least to do as you say. Else you would not be here.” Guido’s deep voice floated up to his ears as they descended. “But, no, I do not trust you not to hurt Desdemona.”

That makes two of us,
Scott thought, but aloud he said, “And
you
won’t?” They had reached the bottom. It looked like a dungeon down here. Rough-hewn stone and damp earth. Flickering yellow light. Guido turned to him as they started forward.

“Me? Hurt Desdemona?” Black eyes crackled with amusement. “You understand nothing of us, do you?”

Scott frowned, he didn’t appreciate the reminder of Des’ history with this SOB. He didn’t speak until they stopped in front of a door made out of heavy wooden beams, bound by metal. There was an actual torch in a bracket to the right of it. When the demon opened it, it gave the appropriate screechy groan. “Whose idea was the Dracula décor?”

Guido shrugged. “It is meant to intimidate and cause fear. Is it working?”

“Dream on.” But Scott was starting to wish he’d made that call to Jules.

It didn’t help when Guido shot him another of those creepy-ass, all-knowing smiles as the door fell shut with a clang.

Scott opened his mouth, but Guido hushed him. He strode to his desk, pulled out a large golden flask from a drawer and slapped it on the ink blotter. "A drink, bestia?"

"What is it?" Scott asked warily. It sure as hell didn’t look like whiskey.

"Angel's tears." Guido said with a dark glower.

Scott narrowed his eyes. "You're shitting me, aren't you?"

The demon chuckled approvingly. "Another colorful—and rather disgusting—phrase. But yes, I am shitting you." He pulled two shot glasses from another drawer and filled both to the rim. The liquor was a deep blue and smoked slightly.

"You expect me to drink that?" Scott lifted an eyebrow.

Guido lifted one back. "You expect me to…what is the term?
Be straight with you.
Yes, that is it."

"What happened to
“I cannot lie, bestia?"
Scott lowered his voice to imitate the demon's raspy growl.

"Degrees of understanding, of perception.” Calimente's lips were twitching. “Your kind does not grasp subtleties…"

"Cut the elder race horseshit."

"Drink the damn drink then,
dem.
Then I will tell you all, about why you are here.” He hesitated, “…and about Desdemona and I.

Scott stared at the demon, then down at the glass. Guido tapped an inpatient finger and concentric circles of cobalt blue liquid lapped at the rim

Oh, fuck it.
If he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead by now. It's just some stupid demon rite thing.

Scott picked up the shot and tossed it down.

And lost his fucking mind.

Des' phone rang as soon as she pulled away from Centaries.

"You don’t happen to know where my car is, do you, roomie dearest?”

Des winced. “I needed it, Mags and—“

“Never mind,” She could hear Mags rolling her eyes. “Just get your butt home, pronto. I got a date.”

“Date?” Des squeaked.

“Don’t sound so surprised, demon spawn, just shift ass.”

Twenty minutes later she clumsily bumped over the curb in front of their place. Mags was waiting on the sidewalk, watching Des' parking job with a raised eyebrow.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Des asked as soon as she got out, leaving the engine running and the door open.

Mags snorted, "We'll see how lucky he gets and—"

A squeal of tires had Des turning her head. A black sedan was peeling around the corner, several blocks away, its lights off. Smoke drifted off the pavement in its wake, drifting to join the November fog as the car grew closer. Its headlights flashed on suddenly, blinding and bright.

"Get in the car, Des!" Mags' scream made Des jump.

Mags leapt across the hood—an impressive feat considering she was wearing 5 inch high boots—and shoved at Des, forcing her to fall face first through the still open car door.

The momentary shock wore off and adrenaline kicked in. Des scrambled over the gearshift, staying low as Mags slipped into the driver's seat and slammed the door. She was in fourth gear by the end of the block, but the big black car was nearly kissing their bumper as she took a sharp left. Des pressed her hands flat against the ceiling to keep from falling into Mags as they skidded around the corner.

"Phone, demon spawn." Mags tossed it at her lap as another scream of tires confirmed the car was still following them.

There was a grinding shriek. Both woman were thrown forward into their seatbelts as something hit the back of the car hard. The phone started to fall but Des snatched it. Her head slamming painfully into the dash. What was going on? She was used to being attacked, but never like this. Demons were subtle, cold. They didn't make a spectacle of things. This was—

"Call
someone! Scott. Jules. Your demon. Just hurry, Des! I think this may be Cross." Mags' sharp, but icily calm voice rose to a shriek as they were hit again. Her slender arms shook trying to keep the car on the road. Tires screeched and glass shattered. "
Now,
damnit!"

Guido’s office had vanished.

Scott stood in a huge room, a room that seemed to glitter at the edges. After a heartbeat, he recognized it, the ballroom in Miles’ Paris home. At first he thought he was alone. Music soared, lush in the warm air.
Stardust
, by Nat King Cole. His stomach tightened. The first song he and Fannie had danced to at their wedding.

As if summoned by the thought, Fannie flashed past him. Dressed in summer green, her skirt flaring, hair streaming. Close enough the fabric of her dress brushed his arm. Her smile, the smell of her. It froze him in place.

He’d forgotten.

How the hell had he forgotten so much? Scott’s heart seized in his chest and he dashed across the room, shouting her name. Fannie didn’t turn, didn’t waver in her slow glide. She was headed for something on the other side of the gleaming hardwood floor.  Someone.

Cross stood there. His arms outstretched, a wide smile on his lips. He wasn’t looking at Fan as he embraced her, but over her shoulder. His eyes met Scott’s as he bent down. It took so long—time slowing nearly to a standstill. Scott was screaming now. He could feel the rawness in his throat, but his voice made no sound. Only the sweet music was audible as the vampire ripped out his wife’s throat all over again. When Cross lifted his head, it wasn’t Fannie in his arms anymore.

It was Des.

Blood poured down her body, covering her in liquid red satin before splashing over the floor in waves that drowned the music. The smell permeated the room; thick and coppery. Cross whirled them both away, laughing. The ballroom trembled as they vanished, sinking and collapsing down into the pool of blood,
pulling Scott with it…

He was somewhere cold and dark. So cold his bones ached. Somewhere far away someone was crying…

He wanted to jump to his feet, but his muscles wouldn't obey. His body was not in his control. Was that Toby? His heart started to pound. No, not Toby. Not Tish either. A woman sobbing uncontrollably. Someone he loved but couldn’t place. Merry? He couldn’t be sure, but the sound made his stomach twist with unknown guilt….

The darkness cleared abruptly.

The cold left him. He was standing on the grounds of Phoenix at night. The floodlights were on, making the towering glass atrium at the front of the complex glow. It was sticky warm, the familiar heat of Chicago in August. Fireflies danced on the wide green lawns. Everyone was there; Gordy, Jules, Rissa, Kelsey, Mags, Nolan, Bri.

There was an old-fashioned carnival going on, colorful rides soared and sparkled in the night, their music tinny and bright. A midway was laid out along the circular driveway. He could scent the popcorn and cotton candy along with the rich scent of grass and earth.

Alcide was in front of the ring toss booth, partially shifted, his canines gleaming as he shouted for Scott to try his luck at the game.

“No, thanks. It’s rigged,” Scott said, distracted as he looked around. Someone was missing, who was it? He couldn’t…

“Everything is, man.” Alcide replied with a sad shrug, before pointing behind him. Scott turned.

Phoenix Inc. was on fire. The enormous pyramid of the atrium was alight with flames, tons of glass warping and cracking in the heat. Faces of those behind him, his friends and co-workers, distorted on that glass, then melted and dripped away.

When Scott whirled around, everyone was gone. The carnival was empty, paper blew down through midway where the tinny music still played on a loop. The rides still turned, the lights still flashed, but he was alone.

Starting to shake, Scott turned back to the fire, but it too had vanished. Along with Phoenix. The entire complex was gone. Only a pile of ash remained. Miles was standing over it, his face blank.

The vampire held out a hand to Scott, ash drifting through his fingers like fallen snow, his eyes a burning electric blue…

With a gasp, his hands slapped the glossy surface of a desk. His knees shaking, Scott lifted his head, Guido was leaning back in his chair. The demon's fingers were laced over his chest, his black eyes bright in the dim room as he watched Scott catch his breath.

"What. The. Fuck.
What did you do to me?"
His words came out in a panting wheeze, his arms trembling as he pushed himself upright. He could still feel the sting of that roaring fire on his face, smell the smoke in the air. And Miles' glowing eyes were burned into his retinas.

Guido waved a hand, "I? Nothing, but give you a great gift. What did you see?"

Scott straightened, his eyes fell on the glass still smoking slightly next to his fingers. "What was in that? What
is
that?"

"Just tell me what you saw!" The demon had gotten to his own feet now, abandoning pretense, tension snapping through his big frame.

Scott shook his head with a grim smile. "Oh, hell no. Answers first, Calimente."

Guido's hands curled into heavy fists as he leaned over the desk. "Fine. I will explain. Just tell me one thing first. Did you see
me
at all?"

Taken a back, Scott stared at him. "You? No. I never saw
you.
Why the fuck would I?"

Guido took a deep breath. His eyes closed as he fell back into his chair blindly, leather creaking.
"Is that good?"
he muttered to himself. "Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
I think—" His eyes blinked open as his jaw closed with a snap.

For a moment they just looked at each other, neither willing to say a word. Scott's head was pounding as the earlier images he'd experienced flooded back into his head. It had been so real, all of it.

Fannie, dying. In front of his own eyes this time. He'd made Jules describe it to him, but seeing that…seeing…

His stomach heaved and Scott sank into a chair himself. Fan had turned into Des. He dropped his head into his hands. Did that mean Desdemona was in danger from Cross, too? Or would be if he let this between them continue?

Did any of what he'd seen mean fucking anything? Was it merely some demon mind trick? He opened his mouth, but Guido beat him to the punch.

"I did not lie, it is
not
angel's tears. I know of no such creature. Not literally, but it
is
what we call it.
Klamia lia devado
looses the drinker's inner control; the barrier we put between ourselves and our instincts. It is a trait humans and demons share. We veil ourselves from foreknowledge—the mind protecting itself from what it knows to be coming." Guido paused a moment, "…or suspects to be coming. The visions induced by the Tears are not always completely accurate. But if one can interpret them, they can be incredibly helpful. I needed to know, to see if you would envision the outcome of our little bargain."

"What bargain?"

"The bargain we are about to make, bestia."

Scott frowned. "So why didn't
you
take the damn shot?" He gestured to the demon's glass, still brim full on the blotter.

Guido sighed and reached for the drink, throwing the sapphire liquid down his throat. He winced once, then set the glass down. "I am part of the Luuisdon. The oldest line of an ancient race. We have become immune to the
klamia lia devado
over the millenniums. It only induces a mild euphoria in my kind anymore. Other demons can and do have visions, usually very weak ones. Only humans get the full effect. Of course, one drink
has
been known to drive your kind mad."

Scott gaped at him. "And you gave it to me? You demented son of a
bitch
…"

"Oh, calm down,
dem
. You are strong, you've an agile mind for your race. I knew you were in no danger. Well, I suspected, anyway." Guido's smile gleamed in the darkness, then faded slowly. "But you truly did not see me?"

"No."

"What
did
you see?" The demon's eyes were alight with curiosity.

Scott gave him a hard look and leaned across the desk. "Not
you
, asshole. Now I drank your liquid LSD and for that, you promised me honesty. You and Des. Tell me why the fuck you are so attached to her."

Guido's lips twisted, his chin raising a hair. His finger tapped the desk again, Scott noted. Just as it had when he encouraged Scott to drink. Just as it had at the bar the night they had fought. The demon was hiding something. Which was a given, Scott thought with disgust. Knowing
what
would be the helpful part.

"You know her father and mine were what you would call 'close', yes?"

Scott shrugged. "I've scanned the files on Chaput and thanks to you," he gave Guido a nod and a sneer, "I've recently gone over the Convenīre files, too, so I know the basic hierarchy. I know Augustine and Valencio were both a part of the Luuisdon and that they were seen together often, but I don't know why."

"Why?" Guido made one of his dismissive gestures. "Because they were of a rank, and their status bonded them. Among other…things."

"They were friends then, they trusted each other?"

Guido laughed out loud. "Oh,
bestia,
how amusing you are!
No.
There is no camaraderie in the Luuisdon. Only business to be seen to, ties to be strengthened, contracts that must be attended to. Matches to be made." He gave Scott a sly, expectant look.

Contracts.
Ties.

Matches. The obvious conclusion didn't surprise Scott, but jealousy twisted his gut anyway.

"You were promised to each other?"

A snort from the demon. "She was promised to
me.
From the minute she was born. The marriage contract to consummate by her 25th birthday. Which is—"

"In three weeks," Scott said, stunned.
"Des doesn't know, does she?"

"Ahhh,"
Guido smiled. "Smart human. See, an agile mind, just as I said. No," he shook his head. "She does not. And you will not be telling her."

"What? Why don't you want her to know? What the fuck game are you playing at, Calimente?"

"So many,
bestia.
So many." He laughed softly. Almost sadly, Scott thought, before he pushed that odd observation aside. "I do not want Desdemona as my lover or my bride." His eyes lifted at the snarl Scott couldn't help but making. The demon smiled slyly. "Though I did once. I thought it was a perfect match."

"But now?"

"She is as my sister," his smile grew genuine. "My
polteriitae saed.
I will not wed her. I will
not.
" Then softly—so softly Scott barely them caught it, "there is only one for me and it is not she."