Child, p.35
Child, page 35
part #6 of Sam and Sam Series
“Sam…” she said. He waited. She turned to look at the mirror, at the half-an-eye she had finished.
“It’s double or nothing,” she murmured. He waited. She turned.
“Get me my brown boots, over there,” she said, unbuttoning the pants. He turned his back again, pulling the tall brown boots from under a rack of clothes and holding them out behind him. They were the boots she’d been wearing when he first saw her. He couldn’t remember anything else about what she’d been wearing that first day, but the boots he remembered because they had the slot of the stiletto on the outside of her calf. They were covered in dust and road grime, the leather worn supple and to multiple colors around the heel and the outside of the toes. She was on a rush, the giddiness of taking a risk and doing something new keeping her moving.
“How did I not see this before?” she asked from the mirror again. He peeked and, finding her in her normal clothing, turned to face her again. Jeans that fit, layers of shirt that moved with her and gave her a shape that was slightly harder to catch hold of. She was taking off the makeup she’d already done and searching through her bag.
“I don’t have the right colors for this,” she said, taking her hair down and putting it back up again, higher on the back of her head. She put makeup back on, but after she was done, Sam couldn’t see any of it. She just looked like herself, only fresher and cleaner, alert and untouchable. She smiled at his reaction, then looked around the closet and sighed.
“There’s something to all of it,” she said. “Being able to put her on when I needed to.”
“You still can,” he said. “Just…”
She nodded.
“Yeah. That’s not what they should be afraid of.”
He watched her as she turned to review herself in the mirror, then she leaned her back against the door and made an odd face.
“Hello, Maryann.”
<><><>
“They sold it,” Maryann said.
“Sold what?” Samantha asked, putting her makeup away and going to sit next to Sam on the bed.
“All of it,” Maryann said. “And they’re guarding it better. I don’t know who they are, but they scare me.”
Samantha frowned, trying to put a context to the words. Maryann was very clever and the best at what she did that Samantha had ever seen, a sniffer of extraordinary power to remain unseen, undetected, unknown. The problem was that her mind was often elsewhere, off looking for things, and Samantha had to figure out where it had been.
She wasn’t making the connection this time.
“What did they sell?” she asked.
“Your altar,” Maryann said. An instant later, she figured it out, and her stomach sank.
“Where did it go?”
The altar was a collection of stuff she’d soulvested in over the years, things that she had left behind and that a demon who had been stalking her had managed to accumulate in order to track her. A halfway decent psychic could find her any time they liked, so long as she wasn’t shielded, and a gifted magic user could get around even that using various other techniques for tracking her down. She’d known it existed for a while now, and Maryann had been trying to track it down for her so that she could destroy it.
She shouldn’t have been surprised that it was an asset available for trade, just like anything else, but it hadn’t occurred to her, up until now, to be concerned about it.
“I don’t know,” Maryann said. “I can feel it, and I can find it in bits and pieces, but I can’t get there. It’s always somewhere else.”
“Does that mean they’re glitching with it?” Sam asked.
“Probably not,” Samantha said. She expected that the way Maryann experienced the world was more akin to how a ghost saw it than how most people, even demons, did. Samantha had been possessed once by a ghost, and getting to see the time-and-space fragmented way that they existed had been informative. It was on her list of things to try again someday, in hopes of getting a better grasp of what it meant.
“Can you find it?” she asked Maryann now. The demon looked troubled.
“I can find it,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Samantha asked.
“I never realized how big a place the world was,” Maryann said. “I sit with Doris and we eat dinner, and I can feel the size of it. You aren’t safe, and I can’t bear it.”
Maryann could always find her. Kelly had to have something of hers to locate her, and she had to be in visible space for Sam or Abby. Maryann, though, was tied up in her person and in her magic. When she had bound the demon, the only way that she could accept the girl back into her company once she went gray - rules, always rules - she had known what she was getting into. Unlike Sam, whose bond had been a once-in-a-generation experiment, binding was common practice, with known side-effects.
This was one of them.
The bound creature, almost always a demon, developed a protective nature toward the binder that could border on manic when the binder was not careful. Samantha thought she had done better than that, for Maryann. She didn’t worry about herself all that much, and she genuinely didn’t put herself in all that much danger. It tended to be the truly unstable binders, nomads who were adrenaline junkies or who had a death wish who drove their bound demons mad.
“Why do you fear for me?” Samantha asked.
“The pieces of you,” Maryann said, looking up at the ceiling as if she could smell them. “They’re everywhere. Everyone wants them. And they guard them so jealously.”
“Have they broken up the altar?” Samantha asked. Maryann shook her head.
“I don’t know. I go to it, but it isn’t there. I never understand. I’ve been looking for it for months and I don’t get any closer.”
“Is there another way to look?” Samantha asked. The wisp of a demon folded her hands in front of her body, waiting. Samantha was making it up, but it had worked for her more than it hadn’t, in the past.
“They sold it.” Shoot. That meant that the lead she had on the psychic who had opened the hellsgate in Houston was gone. She moved past that. “Instead of looking for the altar, can you track the power that they used to buy it?”
“They hate you,” Maryann said.
“Only way to know you’re doing your job,” Samantha said. Maryann considered this for a moment, then glitched out.
“Well, that was interesting,” Sam said. “What does it mean?”
“Means I’ve got more people looking for me, and no solid reason why,” she said. Sam sat on the bed, listening to her think for a moment, then grinned.
“Carter isn’t going to like you having demons glitching into his apartment, is he?”
She hadn’t considered it. Theoretically, this was the one place on the planet that should have kept Maryann out.
“No. He isn’t.”
Sam grinned wider.
“Can I tell him?”
<><><>
Jason felt like he was wearing a Halloween costume. Abby had insisted that she had picked out the perfect clothes for him to wear ‘out’, whatever that meant, and had proceeded to produce that stupidest outfit Jason had ever put on.
He still wasn’t sure how she had gotten him to put it on.
There had been words and maybe some ribbing from the angel, and shooing and then he had been in the bathroom taking off his perfectly serviceable clothing and putting on this… punch line.
The pants were somewhere between canvas and spandex and had holes in the knees that he was certain were repaired with women’s fishnet stockings. The shirt was worse, a studded tribute to a jean jacket that had been ravaged by a Kiss concert. He needed a nipple ring just to take himself seriously, in this.
And then.
And.
Then.
She had put makeup on him.
Dammit, he was taller than her. He had fifty pounds on her, at least. How had he let her do this?
She’d made clucking noises about how it was just eyeliner and he was a big baby, and, okay, it did make his eyes pop, but never, never, never would he have said it out loud and given her the victory.
He should have just picked her up off of the toilet where she had been standing to do it and put her down in the hallway and then locked the door.
That’s what he should have done.
But instead here he was, a damned grown man with a damned fine sword strapped to his back, walking around like a teenager in the midst of an identity crisis.
The girls on the subway were watching him.
He gave them a sideways smile and they giggled to each other.
“Not that bad, is it?” Abby asked.
“I am burning these when I take them off so you don’t get any ideas about me ever wearing them again,” he answered her.
“Toby wears a black lion’s-mane vest, these days,” Abby said.
“You’re kidding me,” Jason answered.
“You just check, when we get there, and then you tell me how bad I made you stand out.”
He snorted at her and she grinned, turning to watch the concrete pillars flash by as they pulled into a station. He stood when she did, still hopeless at navigating the city. It shocked him that Sam was comfortable here.
They walked a couple of blocks from the subway and Jason started feeling like he had been here before. When he started hearing snatches of hellspeak, his head went up and he was in the game.
The doors to the club were up ahead on the right, a converted theater that now served as a demonic hot spot of a night club. A number of demons lounged outside, smoking and talking, like any other joint. A woman pushed off of the wall and approached them. Abby shied a step sideways and Jason let her get across him as he stopped and waited for the woman.
The light outside of the club was dim, and it wasn’t until she was within a couple of steps from him that he recognized her.
And drew Anadidd’na.
“Easy, there, buddy. I’m a mercenary.”
“You’re a demon,” he said, taking another step to keep Abby behind him. The crowd had gone silent.
The demon laughed.
She wasn’t his type. He preferred girls who had narrow waists and long necks. But she was hot. He remembered how hot he’d always thought she was. She eyed Anadidd’na casually.
“I remember you,” she said to the sword. “I remember you wanted me almost as much as he did.”
“You know it doesn’t matter where we are, I’ll ash you and won’t even think about it. They’ll still let me in, and it wouldn’t change a thing about my evening.”
The woman smiled at him, smoldering.
“Such bravado from a man in makeup.”
Dammit, Abby.
“When in Rome, babe.”
She grinned wider.
“I’m Angelica.”
“That’s twisted.”
She laughed, a hearty laugh that suited how solid her body was. Samantha had called her the Amazon.
“We are. Look, I don’t like losing.”
“Not many people do,” Jason said. She shrugged, eying Anadidd’na with a bit more intent, now. He took another step, feeling mentally for Abby and sizing up the demons around him, trying to figure out if she had any allies stashed anywhere.
“No,” she said, taking a step back with a practiced grace. She might not have had a sword in her hands, but they were fencing all the same. “I don’t like losing, but I hate being on the losing side.”
“You mean being a loser,” Jason said. The tick under her eye might have been amusement and it might have been annoyance, he wasn’t sure.
“I had a nice contract all set up,” she said. “Paid my guys well, got the free trip across. It was a good gig.”
“Only problem was that they were paying you to kill me,” Jason said. She sniffed.
“Not you. Just the woman.”
“Yeah. I stand in front of her pretty consistently,” Jason said, then, hearing the chortle from behind him admitted, “not that she needs it.”
“True,” Angelica said. “So, I made good on the terms of my contract. The dust goes across, we’re done. Problem is, contracts don’t prevent grudges.”
Jason paused, standing more upright and looking at her with open mocking.
“You’re looking for protection.”
She sneered at him.
“I’m looking for a new gig. From what I hear, you need as many friends as you can get. That girl of yours…”
“Anadidd’na Anu’dd,” Jason interrupted, just for fun. She snarled at him.
“Renouch. She can’t stay out of the big trouble for long, can she?”
Ash. She was talking about Ash. He shrugged.
“It’s what she’s good at. Look, you seem like you’re here to dance. The music’s inside.”
He turned to go, and then there was a blade at his throat. He’d never heard it coming.
“Don’t patronize me, dust,” she said, her voice turning dark. He put a finger up to the sword and pushed it away from his neck, turning his head to give Angelica a disappointed look.
“And here I thought you wanted to be friends.”
“I am a terrible enemy to have,” she said.
“Eh. Mercenaries are usually too busy for enemies,” Jason said. She considered, then put the sword away again.
“You aren’t wrong. But you do try my patience.”
“And I don’t scare so easy,” Jason said.
“Yeah. Had to try it though, didn’t I?”
He grinned at her despite himself. She shrugged again.
“All I’m saying is that your girl is developing quite a reputation, quite a lot of attention. And you and I got along so well, last time, I thought I’d see if she was picking teams yet.”
“Picking teams,” Jason said flatly. Angelica winked at him.
“Put in a good word for me,” she said. “I can be bought. And you know I’m good.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. She shrugged again, then tipped her head to the side. “You know we’d have fun, don’t you?”
“I prefer girls with a heartbeat that means something,” he said, not disagreeing with her. She laughed, tipping her head back, then shook out her hair and glitched.
“Who was that?” Abby said.
“Trouble,” Jason muttered, shaking his head again. “She’s in trouble again.”
<><><>
Carter had said nothing.
They’d gone their way, a demon picking them up at the curb and chauffeuring them to the club, where the street had gone quiet as Samantha had gotten out of the car. Sam followed her, measuring up the demons who were out tonight and jerking his head in greeting at the couple he knew, then paused at the man sitting the door. He had hesitated when he saw Samantha, but with Sam and Carter standing behind her, he’d just pointed a thumb over his shoulder and washed his hands of them.
The closer they got to the main hall, the louder the music got, but the quieter the crowds grew. The lights were dim and off colors, here, greens and blues, mostly, with one section of the hall lit orange, and Samantha stuck out in her fair colors. She ignored everyone, walking the corridor that opened in front of her the way she had always walked in her black leather. Sam could feel the sense of power radiating off of her. Something had changed, and while he had been there for it, he still didn’t feel like he completely understood it.
And then they were in the hall, the theater seats ripped out and replaced with tables, but the stage still set for Toby and his favorites. The black man sat on a throne that made him look small, the electric lights playing the curves of his hard-cut body. Sam thought he looked pretentious and silly, but Samantha had always been impressed with his sense of the dramatic.
Around them, demons were shouting to be heard and people were sitting at tables drinking. And then, like a carpet rolling out, the voices silenced and a space opened up around Samantha. Sam felt Carter grab his elbow and drag him back, away from Samantha. He sent her a quick question and she dismissed him, feeling the throb of the place and the power around her and in her. He let Carter lead him away.
“You proud of her?” Sam heard Abby say. He turned to find Abby sitting at a table with a stranger who, on closer inspection turned out to be Jason.
“Took long enough,” Carter answered.
“What happened to you?” Sam asked.
“She did,” Jason said sourly, jerking his head at Abby. “What’s she doing out there?” he asked of Samantha.
“Putting a hole in the universe,” Carter asked.
“You know, for as much as you talk, you don’t ever say a damn thing,” Jason said. Sam grinned.
“Why aren’t you upset about it?” he asked Carter.
“About what?”
“She’s going out, and she’s not wearing your dress code,” he said. Carter shrugged, leaning back as a waitress put a drink in front of him.
“I just gave her a crutch,” he said, leaning out over the table again. “It took her a lot longer than I expected to figure out where her real power came from.”
Sam and Jason looked at each other, and Sam shook his head, then frowned at Jason again.
“No, seriously, what happened to you? It looks like you got mugged by an emo drama club.”
“It’s dramatic,” Abby said.
“Certainly is that,” Carter said absently, tipping his head back to watch Samantha.
She had a space in the center of the dance floor that just continued to grow, like oil on the surface of water. Demons clustered around her, pushing against each other and trying to simultaneously be in the front row and further away from her. He’d seen it before, but this had an element of fear that felt new.
Toby stood, and Sam heard Carter take a breath. The great man walked to the edge of the stage and down into the crowd, a space forming around him as he walked. Two women followed him on either side, different every time Sam saw them. Toby’s favorites didn’t ever last long, but Sam had heard that it was lucrative all the same.
And then Toby was at the edge of the ring around Samantha.
Sam had seen this dance before, Samantha casting a bait and luring Toby down off of his perch into the melee, the two of them proving to each other that they were powerful enough to be interesting, and then they would dance. She didn’t dance with Toby like she did with most people. With him, she was very aware. She never got lost in the music and the motion. It was a game of chess and she played it hard.
