Bergman shoved his finger up the bridge of his nose, still in the old habit of adjusting his glasses. He messed with his ball cap to make the gesture look a little less idiotic and said, “Look, I know you probably think I’m a wimp because I said all that stuff about not being scared anymore and really having a life. And I’m trying. But fear is a hard habit to break. It helps to have props.”
“Of course. Like actors.”
“Exactly. And about the partnership? You don’t have to decide right away. Take some time and think about it. I figured, you know, if we survive this whole demon thing, you’d still have to give notice. And then we could talk about how you’d want the business to expand. I’d still be doing research and development, plus some consulting. But you and Vayl and Natchez would obviously be bringing a whole new set of clients to the table.”
What a nice way to say we’d be turning mercenary.
I said, “Okay, I’ll consider it. And thanks. I’m really honored that you’d trust me and Vayl enough to bring us into your business like this.”
Bergman shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot working with you. The main thing is that life’s too short to go solo. And I’m never going to get a girl if I’m working all the time. If I had partners I could take a day off once in a while.”
I nodded. “This is true.” I put a hand out, grabbing on to his arm to steady myself. Geez, when Astral opened her lines it was like transporting into an IMAX movie. The dizzy spell passed as my eyes adjusted to her video feed.
“I can see the demon,” I said. “She’s walking past that pole barn, uh, Wirdilling Hall. And my lips are starting to buzz because this is so weird. It’s like Cole and Cassandra are standing right beside her.” Cole swung a fist. “Did I get her?”
“Nope. She’s about a foot to your right.”
Cole started to set up a front kick, but Cassandra pushed him off balance. “Would you stop?” she hissed. “My soul is at stake!”
“This is all for you!” he insisted. “I’m practicing up so we can kick ass and take names. But without actually saying her name, right?”
I said, “Not unless we want to summon her here. Which we don’t.” I let my vision readjust to the hologram. “She’s wearing a hat so it’s kind of hard to make out her features. There, she’s walking under a streetlamp. Aw, shit.”
“What?” they all asked at once.
“She threw her hat at the lamp and busted it.”
“Of all the things she could’ve done, you’re upset about that?” asked Cole.
“Yeah. Because before the light exploded I saw her face. She’s even prettier than the Magistrate.” CHAPTERSIX
People judge hell’s hierarchy all kinds of ways. But I’ve found the most accurate measure to be by the looks of its inhabitants. You beautiful, you bad. Receive a promotion, get a face-lift. The Magistrate had been one luscious demon, temptation in a Playgirl wrapper. I hadn’t wanted to fight him. That’s a good way to get yourself rolled in flour and deep-fried. But my Spirit Guide, Raoul, had helped make sure the battle was less David-and-Goliath than is usual in those cases. I could still remember the Magistrate snapping his whip at me as I tried to bury my admiration for his sleek perfection. All that considered, Cassandra’s demon scuzzed him out.
“If you didn’t summon her, how’d she get here?” I asked.
She shook her head and shrugged. Demons can’t just pop into our world like we run to the bank. As far as I knew, they had to be called. But then, the rules governing their movements were more intricate than the IRS tax code. Maybe this demon had found a loophole.
Cassandra said, “I anointed my eyes as usual this morning. I’m sure I chanted the prayer of protection correctly. I’ve only been repeating it for over half a millennia.”
“But she’s here,” I murmured, watching the demon stalk around Wirdilling Hall, trying to catch our scent.
“You must have done something different.”
“No, nothing.”
I barely heard her. Something about the way the hellspawn moved, so fluid she seemed nearly boneless, so confident I wondered why any of us should even bother to resist her, reached through Astral’s optics and dug in.
She reminds me of a cougar, I thought as I noted her tawny skin and dark blond braid. She’d dressed to hunt in low-heeled boots, skintight jeans, and a silk top the color of lava that she’d unbuttoned far enough to show the sweat beading between her breasts. The headgear, a brown suede bush hat she’d probably taken off some soul-mangled station owner, completed the look.
Crap. Her head had come up. A sun-bleached old van had pulled into the lot beside Wirdilling Hall’s main entrance. I only recognized its driver by his skinny legs and cowboy boots. It was our entertainer from Crindertab’s, a tanned old dude with a cigarette dangling from his lips and enough hair left on his head to share with three of his baldest buddies. He didn’t see the demon when he went around to the back of the van and began to unload equipment into the hall’s add-on. Didn’t hear her pull his silver-haired partner from her seat and into the shadows. Didn’t even startle when she strode up to him and said in a sex-kitten purr, “I am looking for a dark-skinned woman named Cassandra. Have you seen her?”
He looked the demon up and down, squinted as he blew smoke into her face. “Nope.” She smiled. “I could make your fantasies come true, you know.”
“Doubt it.”
The smile faltered, evened out again. “Anything you like. Anything you can dream of.”
“For a price, right? I ain’t got that kinda pay.”
“I wasn’t talking about money.”
“Neither was I.” He spit the cigarette at her, and she jumped back, giving him time to reach for his belt.
But he was old and unprepared. The knife glinted in Wirdilling Hall’s single streetlight, only half out of its scabbard when she lunged. She grabbed him by both shoulders and tossed him like a scarecrow. He hit an electric post on the opposite side of the street, his back breaking around it like an accordion straw.
She dusted off her hands, straightened her clothes, and began sniffing around the hall again. Within two minutes she was moving toward the house. Astral followed, her padded feet silent on the rain-starved ground.
“Jaz?”
I forced my eyes to Cassandra. “What?”
“You’re shaking.”
I wiped the perspiration off my upper lip. Shit, I just watched her murder two civilians and I still can’t get over how gorgeous she is! How am I gonna function when she’s in the same room?
“Think!” I demanded. “She’s got to be here for a reason. What’s changed in your life since yesterday?” Cassandra started to shake her head; then she pulled back, as if the realization had slapped her. “Oh.”
“What?”
“David asked me to marry him.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
My eardrums started to vibrate, like somebody had just hit a gong right next to my head. I couldn’t believe the curtains weren’t waving like banners, this was so huge! After Dave had lost his wife, I’d given up hoping he’d ever find somebody he could love as much as her. And now? But wait, maybe…
“What did you tell him?” I put both hands behind my back so she wouldn’t see the crossed fingers.
Her eyes wavered. “He wanted me to wait. He wanted to be the one to tell you—”
“Cassandra!”
“I said yes.”
“Aahhh!” We both screamed at the same time and started dancing around like we weren’t about to get our asses thoroughly kicked by high-level evil.
“Um, ladies?” Cole said, tapping me on the shoulder. “Could we act like sorority girls who’ve just made it into Barbie’s Dream House some other time? Cassandra’s got a double-bladed sword. Bergman’s got a lucky pack. And, Jaz, you’ve got your Spirit Eye to protect you. All I have is a new piece of bubble gum, a useless rifle, an even more worthless handgun, and your word that these knotted sheets are going to keep me from falling straight into hell.”