Smoke and Ashes (37 page)

The gesture didn't need explaining. “Go on.”

“Sye Mckaseeh is creating twenty-seven weak spots between your world and mine.” He'd finally taken a moment to actually count them. “Apparently three nines are a mystic number or something, but that's not the point. Very shortly we'll be ass-deep in arjh and the odds are good one of them will get through to your handmaiden and kill her to open the gate.”

“You are a wizard; you hold the eternal cosmos in your hand. Strengthen the weakness before it tears. With power drawn to so many places, it will take time before the arjh are through.”

“Not enough time. My world is a complicated place, and I don't think I'll be able to get to all the weak spots before they rip open. I need you—your handmaiden needs you—to slow things down on this end. The arjh end. We need you to interfere with Sye Mckaseeh's plan.”

“No. I am not one who battles with the other lords for power.”

Tony blinked as that sank in. “You're kidding me. You're a lover, not a fighter?”

“As I understand your use of the language, yes. And there is disunity between Sye Mckaseeh and I.”

“Disunity?”

The Arjh Lord shrugged. “Once there was unity. Now there is not.”

Standing on that featureless white plane, Tony had a sudden strong desire for a wall, so he could bang his head against it. “She was your girlfriend and you guys broke up and that's how she knows about the Demongate and that's why she's trying to get it open, to screw you.” Same old story, add a truck and a dog and they could set it to country music.

Ryne Cyratane shrugged again. “Her arjh watch for me. I could not get close to her should I desire it.”

“Hey, you fighting your way through a few of her arjh would be a distraction, at least. We could use that.”

“No.”

“Yeah, we could.”

“No, I will not fight.”

“Yeah, but this isn't a power struggle with another lord,” Tony reminded him. “You'll just be smacking around a few arjh.”

“I do not fight.”

“Then what the hell are those horns for?”

“They are a symbol.”

Oh, that was useful. Not. “Fucking great. You're nothing but Bambi's dad.”

Ryne Cyratane may not have understood the reference, but he definitely understood the tone.

Actually, Tony figured as he was once again lifted off his feet, it was probably a good thing the reference sailed right on over. “I'm sorry, okay! I'm just worried about your handmaiden!” He could see himself reflected in the onyx eyes—which was more than a little disconcerting since the hands holding him did not appear in the reflection.

“I do not wish my handmaiden to die.” This close, the Arjh Lord's teeth were as out of proportion as certain other parts of his anatomy—only not in a good way.

“Bonus, because she doesn't
want
to die.”

“But neither will I put myself in danger.”

“Not even for her?”

This new expression was not one of Henry's. Tony'd last seen it on Mason's face when CB had set up an interview with one of the science fiction media magazines. The expression of the innately selfish forced to acknowledge they had responsibilities they didn't much like.

“If Sye Mckaseeh is indeed attempting to control so many entries to your world, she will not be able to watch all of her lesser arjh,” Ryne Cyratane admitted reluctantly after a moment. “It seems her continuing defeat at your puny hands has caused her to rage against you and to overextend.” He smiled but, whether at Sye Mckaseeh overextending or at her continuing defeat, Tony wasn't sure. “While she is distracted by the great effort she makes, I will mark one of her waiting arjh with my sigil so that when it breaks through to your world, it will fight at your side and rend the others of its kind.”
Rend
was pronounced with enough relish to supply an infinite number of hot dog carts.

“If you could mark one of her arjh,” Tony pointed out, “you could kill it. And if you could kill one…”

“Death of her arjh, she would most definitely notice.”

“Okay, back to your original plan.” Tony's lower arms were going numb, but the Arjh Lord didn't seem to be tiring. “Problem is, I'm closing as many of these things as I can before they open. What if I close the weak spot you've coopted?”

“Do not.”

Yeah. That was helpful.

“If my handmaiden, my priestess, my love is with you, she will know which weakness I use as mine.”

Okay, that actually
was
helpful.

“Tell the Nightwalker I will allow his interference with what is mine this one time and this one time only. If you desire to speak with me again, find another way. Now go.”

Tony bounced a little as he hit the ground. Bounced a little higher. The white began to darken. Higher still. Fighting a rush of nausea, he closed his eyes.

“Tony?”

Opened them to find Henry bending over him. “Bucket,” he gasped, rolling for the edge of the bed. It was a good thing the wicker garbage container had a plastic bag in it because there wasn't time to forage any farther out.

A familiar growl. “Your arms are bleeding.”

“Not…now!” His blood was Henry's. He got that. Given that no one else had ever wanted it, that usually wasn't a problem. At the moment he was a little too busy to deal with vampire issues.

He started shaking just before he finished vomiting and barely made it to the bathroom in time to empty the rest of his digestive tract. Things got a little messy anyway, and he closed the door on the scrubbing bubbles bleaching the color out of Leah's towels.

The bedroom was empty when he got back, his clothes folded neatly on the end of the bed. Reaching for his jeans, he caught sight of his reflection in the full-length mirror and paused. Purple-and-green handprints covered most of both biceps, the soft inner skin of his arms scored by Ryne Cyratane's claws. Tony scratched at a dribble of dried blood, decided against risking the bathroom while the bubbles were still working, and reached for his jeans.

They seemed loose. Barefoot and holding his T-shirt, he staggered out into the condo, following his nose.

Leah was in the kitchen stirring what looked like a large pan of scrambled eggs.

“Where's Henry?”

“Gone. Apparently, he didn't trust my closet space. I put some cheese and some cold ham into these,” she continued without turning. “You're going to need the fats as well as the protein.”

Considering the fun he'd been having since he got back, the last thing Tony wanted was food. “I'm not hungry,” he groaned, dropping onto a stool by the breakfast counter.

“I know. You're starving.” When he snorted, she turned and glared. “Do you have any idea how much energy you used tonight?” She gestured at his arms with the spatula. “You created a physical form, you idiot. Okay, maybe that was partly because of how we made contact, but I still can't believe you were so stupid!”

“I'm fine,” Tony protested as she began to scrape the eggs out onto a platter. “I just got a little bruised.”

“You could have been killed. How many times do I have to remind you that demons gain power by slaughter? You're just lucky that slaughtering you didn't occur to him.”

“It didn't occur to him, because I was right; it's not him sending the demons. He needs me to protect you.” Tony frowned, suddenly realizing that Leah's eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You're really upset.”

“Of course I'm upset!” Holding the full sleeve of her dark green dressing gown back with one hand, she slammed the platter down on the counter in front of him with the other. “If you'd gotten yourself killed, what would have prevented all those demons from coming through and killing me?”

Of course she was upset.

Strangely comforted by this indication of normalcy—within his current fluctuating definition of the word—Tony flicked a bit of scrambled egg out of his chest hair and back onto the plate. “He's going to do what he can to help.”

“You're sure.”

“Positive.” By the time he finished repeating everything that had been said in the white, the platter was empty. He didn't remember eating, but since he was holding a dirty fork, it seemed safe to assume he had.

“Sye Mckaseeh?”

“That's what he said.”

“Scottish?”

“I didn't ask.”

“I can't believe I'm in danger and I could die because Ryne Cyratane broke up with his girlfriend.”

“She's definitely holding a grudge. And I think he's a bit afraid of her.”

“He could have been lying to you.”

“I know. I don't think he was, but…”

“But you don't have a lot of experience judging demonic veracity.”

“Uh…”

“You had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth.”

“Right.” Tony tapped the fork against the edge of the platter. “Maybe I should have taken Kevin Groves with me. You and Henry have already had him; it wouldn't have been that much of a stretch.”

He'd been kidding, but Leah rolled her eyes and snatched the fork out of his hand. “Fine time to think of that now.”

“Eww.”

“Oh, grow up. And get dressed so we can get started on saving the world. We've got twenty-seven weak spots to find and close before my god's ex-girlfriend stomps through and tries to take over the world.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say. Hell hath no fury like a demon scorned.” A broad wave at her robe. “You'll be going out in that?”

“I dress very quickly.”

The obvious comment was, well, too obvious to bother with. His T-shirt seemed to have more holes than he remembered, but eventually he got it over his head and both his arms. His arms hurt, but that was hardly surprising. His shoes and socks were still in the bedroom, but when he stood up to go and get them, the floor moved.

“Or maybe you should sleep for a few hours first,” Leah sighed, walking around the edge of the counter and peering down at him.

H
E HADN'T HAD ENOUGH
sleep, and in the last—he counted back on his fingers Saturday to Wednesday—four days he'd probably lost a good ten pounds.
That's right, folks, it's not only a Demonic Convergence, it's a workout plan. Sign up now and we'll throw in the Sye Mckaseeh Diet free! All the carbs you ever wanted, but you have to get them away from an Arjh Lord before you can eat them.

“Tony!”

The level of pissyness suggested Leah had been calling his name for a while now. “What?”

“We're here.”

Here was Richmond, in a company parking lot nearly empty except for a premillennia Buick and two Smart Cars.

“The weak spot is in the lot?” he asked hopefully. With any luck, number one of twenty-seven would be an easy fix.

“The weak spot is in the building.”

So much for easy. “Of course it is.”

“It's a Saturday,” Leah reminded him, opening her door. “I'll distract the security guard, you close things up, slam bam, we move on.”

“Isn't that supposed to rhyme?” he muttered getting out of the car. His knees hurt and his back was stiff; he felt about seventy-five. “You know, Gandalf was probably no more than thirty and the whole gray hair and beard thing was payback for being a wizard. Explains the break dancing with Saruman,” he added as they walked toward the front doors. “'Cause that'd make them the right age in the backstory.”

Leah turned to stare at him in confusion. “What are you babbling about?”

“The break dancing scene in the movie. Okay, it was supposed to be a fight, but, man, the fight choreographer really fell down on the job.”

She rolled her eyes. “For pity's sake, read a book.”

“There was a book?”

The building containing the weak spot belonged to a company called Seanix Technology, Inc.

“Number one PC manufacturer in Canada,” Tony announced as they moved out of the fine mist and into the shelter under the concrete overhang bordering the front of the single story building.

“You know that and you didn't know Peter Jackson made
Lord of the Rings
from a book?”

He shrugged. “I've never had time to watch the appendices. And we have a problem.”

“Besides your appalling ignorance of anything besides television or movies?”

“The security guard is a woman.”

“What? That was on the sign, too?”

Tony sighed and pointed.

The tall blonde sitting behind the desk in the main lobby was intent on one of her monitors and hadn't seen them.

“You're right. We have a problem.”

“Fortunately, I have a solution.”

“You know a spell to take care of her?”

“Nope. I don't need magic for this.”

Leah patted him gently on the shoulder. “Tony, you're gay.”

“That'll help,” he said, quietly pulling open the heavy glass door, “but more importantly, I'm in television.”

The door got the guard's attention. Wearing a professionally neutral expression, she watched them cross to her desk. “Can I help you?” she asked, the neutrality touched with suspicion.

Tony smiled and pulled a business card out of his wallet. “I hope so,” he told her, passing it over. “My boss sent me out to find a location for our next episode and with any luck, this building will have the perfect space.”

“You work on
Darkest Night
?”

“I do.”

“Oh, wow. I love that show! Lee Nicholas is so hot! That episode where he got captured by the coven and they were going to sacrifice him unless Raymond Dark—who they'd been hunting for centuries—surrendered to them and he was tied out over that altar; that was just brilliant! And that scene where he was chasing that mad scientist down the street after he was exsanguinating people and blaming it on vampires, that went right past my mother's best friend's ex-husband's store!” Her enthusiasm dropped about five years off her age. “It says here you're a TAD?”

He cranked up the camp, just a little. “I'm also a location scout, the photocopier repair person, decorating consultant, and, occasionally, second dead body on the right.” He leaned in. “That leg at the edge of the screen after the massacre on that container ship at VanTerm—mine.” CB had been way too cheap to have a leg made when he had any number of them walking around collecting a paycheck.

“No.”

“Yes.”

She rose up on her toes and peered over the edge of the desk. “Oh, my God, it was your leg! I recognize the shoe!”

No she didn't, it was a different shoe entirely, but Tony wasn't going to mention that. “Look…Donna…” Her name tag, now close enough to read, said
Donna Hardle
. “…I know you can't leave your post, but would it be possible for us to wander very carefully around the building—not touching anything, I promise—to see if we can find the space my boss is looking for?”

“I don't know; it's Saturday, and…”

“And there won't be many people working, so we won't disturb them. We thought about that. And besides, we'll want to shoot on a Saturday.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm here on Saturdays!”

“Hey…” His cheeks were beginning to hurt from all the lunatic smiling. “…that's great. You know, Lee loves to meet his fans.”

Her cheeks went pink. “He does?”

“Loves to.”

Donna glanced down at the card, looked over the bank of six monitors, bit her lip, and said, “I guess it's okay if you don't touch anything, and I'll have to make sure you're not carrying cameras.”

“That's fair.” Because if they were intent on industrial espionage, they'd surely have their corporate spy supplies out where they could be easily found. On the other hand, as he turned out the front pockets on his jeans and patted down his jacket, he gave her points for even considering it. Leah had his car keys, so all he was carrying was his wallet.

“And you…” Donna frowned at Leah. “Are you with the show, too?”

“Stunts,” Leah said shortly, holding out her bag. “The location needs a safe fall site. Why don't you just hold onto this.”

“You do stunts? That is so cool!” Setting the bag down on her desk, she keyed in a fast run of numbers and the door at the end of the lobby buzzed. “Go on through. There's a couple of guys working today; don't disturb them, okay?”

“We'll be as quiet as the mold man in episode nine.”

“That was a great episode!”

Leah snorted as the door closed behind them. “Somebody should tell Donna that womb to tomb she only gets so many exclamation points and she's wasting them.”

“Be nice,” Tony muttered, massaging the inside of his cheeks with his tongue.

“No.”

Sye Mckaseeh's potential entrance was in a multi-desk office with windows overlooking what was probably a manufacturing area. There were long tables and individual stations of tools, and if it wasn't manufacturing, Tony had no idea what it was. “I don't see the two guys the guard mentioned.”

“They're probably in R&D if they're in on the weekend,” Leah told him, down on her knees running a hand over the teal blue carpet. “It's under here. There's a bit of a bump. I think there was a wall taken down and the office made bigger.”

When he cocked his head, he could see the shimmer. “Back up.”

 

“What was with all the hand waving?” Donna asked as they came back out into the lobby. “I could see you on the security monitors,” she added before they could ask how she knew.

“I was setting up the shots,” Tony told her, peering at her through the square of his fingers. “You know.”

“Of course! So cool! Did you find what you needed?”

“I think so, but now I have to tell the boss. He makes all the final decisions.”

“So you don't know what Saturday you'll be here?”

“Not yet.”

“That's okay, I wrote down all my days off until after Christmas, so can you try and be here when I am?”

As Tony took the piece of paper, he laid his other hand over his heart. “I will do my best.”

“That's just so great!” She was handing Leah back her bag, but her attention never left him. “Tony, can I ask you a question?”

He noted the impressive amount of information conveyed by Leah's
we have another twenty-six of these things to close and not nearly enough time so we need to haul ass
expression and then ignored it. Donna had done them an enormous favor and right now was definitely not the time to be acquiring a karmic burden. “Sure.”

“It's about Raymond Dark and James Taylor Grant.” She lowered her voice and glanced to both sides, as if worried about eavesdroppers. “Is there, you know, a subtext there on purpose because they always stand so close together?”

“Sorry, that's standard blocking for television,” Tony told her. “Actors have to be well within each other's personal space in order to get them both in a small screen closeup. There's no subtext; they're just hitting their marks.”

Donna clearly didn't entirely believe him. “But they're so perfect together.”

He winked, and gave his best imitation of a lascivious screaming queen. “You don't think James Taylor Grant would prefer a younger man?”

Giggling, she waved them toward the exit. “Go on. I have work to do!”

“Subtext?” Leah demanded incredulously as they walked to the car. “What was she talking about?”

“You don't spend much time online, do you?”

“I have a life. And what was with the
Queer Eye
schtick?”

He snorted as he dropped into the passenger seat and let his head fall back. “I know our fan base. Be sure to hit a drive-through on the way to number twenty-six.”

 

“This is looking very familiar.” Tony finished his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the back seat. “Isn't this near…?”

“The place the tentacled demon broke through and terrorized your friend's coffee shop? Yes. Same neighborhood. And this is where our next stop is.” Leah pulled into the parking lot at the Four Points Sheraton, narrowly missing two middle-aged women dragging an impressive amount of luggage.

“It's not just a residual reading from the old place that blew?”

“No. But I'd have thought it was if you hadn't mapped it and I'd have gone right on by and we wouldn't have closed it and it might have spat out the demon ready to destroy the world as we know it. Not to mention me.” The parking space she chose was some distance from the building. “Probably Sye Mckaseeh's intent. Good thing she doesn't know what you're capable of.”

“Yeah. Good thing.” Right at the moment, he didn't feel capable of much.

“There's a few too many men in there for me to distract them all, not to mention women.”

“Not to mention.”

“So how do we play this?”

He sighed and unfastened his seat belt. “We get lost in the crowd.”

“And if the weak spot's in one of the rooms or one of the offices or in the middle of the lobby?”

“Why don't we just cross that bridge when we come to it? And speaking of Bridge…” Standing just outside the car, he stared at the hotel.

“Superficial resemblance at best,” Leah snorted. “Come on. Let's do this.”

Dark girders held the Four Points sign out over the main entrance. Tony stared up at them, noticed a spot where a bit of paint was missing, and closed his hand around Leah's arm. “Tell me it's not up there.”

“It's not up there.”

“Thank you. Just look like you're supposed to be here,” he murmured as they entered the building. “There's hundreds of people in and out every day. We're just two more faces in the crowd.”

“You've done this before?”

Why not? It would look better if they were talking. He kept his voice low. “Big hotels with conference rooms have bathrooms tucked away in odd unwatched corners. If you're not so filthy you get noticed right off, you can use them to clean up as long as you miss the suits having their post-conference piss. Sometimes, you can score a coffee and some food from outside the rooms.”

Leah looked intrigued as she guided them past the front desk. “The hotel rooms?”

“Them, too. Half-eaten room service beats Dumpster diving any day, but I meant from outside the conference rooms. Pastries and stuff. Handful of creamers if nothing else.”

“For all it's been short, you've had an interesting life.”