Demon's Hunger (27 page)

He found it just a little too coincidental that everything seemed to revolve around Vivien: She was a succubus. A succubus was killing mortals and gathering bones in an effort to summon the Solitary. Vivien's best friend just happened to have contact with one of the victims, Gavin Johnston, the night he died. And she happened to have a little red velvet bag of bones, one so heavily imbued with demon magic it almost glowed. Yeah, what were the chances of that?

Baunn lifted his cup, took a sip, grimaced. "Jesus. This is coffee?"

"Bite your tongue," Darqun said, and flicked his gaze toward Ida as she ambled over to the table. She stood over them, glaring, waiting for their order. Amused, Darqun watched Javier study the stained menu, frown, and look up.

"Whole wheat English muffin, margarine, not butter. Sliced fruit, melon if you have it," Javier said. "And—"

"We got eggs," Ida cut him off. "We got bacon. We got sausage."

Snickering at Javier's nonplussed expression, Darqun exchanged a glance with Baunn.

"I'm a vegetarian," Javier said, drawing himself up with dignity.

The waitress eyed him askance.

"So starve," she said, and turned to take Darqun's order. Eggs over easy. Brown toast. Bacon. Without a word, she refilled his cup for, what, the fifth time?

"Uh, just coffee, thanks." Baunn's expression said he figured it was the safest bet. Muttering about surfer boys and pretty hair, Ida scowled at him and walked away without bothering to top off his half-empty cup, or Javier's.

Darqun opened three creamers with slow, meticulous care, poured them into the sludge that passed for coffee, and lined the empties up in front of him. Sludge was okay. There had been a long, long time where he'd had absolutely nothing, so sludge was just fine.

He glanced down at the army of little brown containers—maybe fifteen of them—arranged before him in two neat rows; shifting them around, he made three rows. Better. Looking up, he found both Javier and Baunn watching him narrowly.

"So those bones in the bags
are
all from the same person? The original summoner of the Solitary?" he asked, continuing the conversation they'd been having before the waitress interrupted them.

"Yeah. Bezal, the original summoner," Baunn replied, his tone flat. "As soon as he brought the Solitary over, the kid knew he'd made a mistake. He found Asher"—he rolled his eyes—"the Ancient. He got help from the Compact, sending the Solitary back."

"How?" Javier interjected.

"They had help." Baunn's expression hardened. "And Bezal was young, maybe twelve, thirteen. He'd brought the demon over by accident, and he never got a boon for the summoning which meant the demon never paid for the trip. The whole thing was outside the norm, so the Solitary's life force wasn't locked to Bezal's the way it usually is between a demon and its keeper."

They had help
. Something in Baunn's tone made Darqun uneasy.

"So what happened to Bezal?" Javier asked. "Why didn't he disintegrate when he lost his demon like other demon-keepers? Why didn't his bones turn to ash?"

Good question. Darqun was wondering about that himself. Typically, when a demon was terminated, the demon-keeper turned into a pile of dust. Younger ones disintegrated in a matter of hours, older ones in minutes, sometimes seconds, stolen time catching up with them at an accelerated pace. The longer they'd been bound to the demon, the faster they turned to nothing when it was killed.

Baunn shook his head. "Most keepers are tied to their demon for centuries before it's killed. This kid was only bound for a few days. And his demon wasn't killed; it was returned to the demon realm." He tapped out a quick, staccato beat on the table. "Like I said, the whole thing was outside the norm. Bezal lived out his full life span, and when he died, his family buried him."

"So only Bezal can summon the Solitary?" Javier shoved his dark hair off his forehead.

"Yeah, Bezal or one of his descendants." Baunn paused. "But he died without issue… Or at least, we thought he did until this recent killing spree."

"He did," Javier confirmed. "I traced two of the murder victims back as far as I could, and it seems that Gavin Johnston and Rick Strasser aren't descended from Bezal but from his sister. I think that whoever is setting this plan in the works is hoping that the link will be strong enough, especially if they have most of the original summoner's bones and only need to throw in a few spare parts to complete the picture."

"So why didn't they just burn the summoner's bones in the first place all those years ago?" Darqun asked. "Why divvy them up and spread them all over the earth?"

"Couple of reasons… Burial custom at the time held the bones of ancestors as sacred. More importantly, we're talking a couple of millennia past. To burn bones, you need a temperature of about sixteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit for a couple of hours—not something easily done at that time."

"We need to destroy the bones from all the charm bags we have in our possession." Darqun tapped his fingers on the table. "The less bones hanging around, the less likely the chance of re-animation."

Hauling out his cell phone, he made a call to Ciarran and Clea, brought them up to speed in a few short sentences, told them what needed to be done. With access to CD Pharmaceuticals' labs and resources, they could definitely take care of the problem.

Ida ambled over and set a plate in front of him. No grease. Perfectly done toast. And a fruit cup.

"Nice." Baunn exchanged a look with Javier as she walked away. "I guarantee that if I'd ordered a meal, it would have come with a grease chaser and burnt toast."

Javier shook his head, commiserating, while Darqun tucked into his meal.

"Okay, so what about the gris-gris bags?" Javier asked. "The bones are older, the bags more recent. What's the story on that? You said that his family buried Bezal's remains, so how'd they end up in a bunch of little red velvet bags?"

Baunn's expression darkened. "Yeah, see, that's the lousy part of the story. The help I mentioned… It was a succubus."

Jesus. Darqun's head jerked up. "A succubus," he repeated slowly.

"She originally allied with the Compact, then changed her mind. She used Bezal's bones to try reanimating him, and she would have succeeded if it wasn't for"—Baunn paused, shaking his head—"her lover."

His thoughts spinning, Darqun set down his knife and fork, slammed his full attention dead on Baunn. "What the hell are you saying? That the succubus allied with the Compact because she was in a relationship with a sorcerer?"

Baunn shot him an ugly smile. "Yeah. She claimed it was for love," he said, the word taking on a depth of meaning that was anything but beautiful. "Then she turned on her lover, drained him, killed him."

"Jesus, Baunn. You're talking about Shay, aren't you? You told everyone a demon got him."

"She
is
a demon," Baunn snarled.

"Baunn—" Darqun broke off, unease raking him with sharp prongs. Okay. He needed to think this through. Succubi were rare, but surely there was more than one. Just because Vivien was a succubus didn't mean she was the same one Baunn was talking about. Did it?

His gaze shot to Javier. "Damn.
Damn
. Dain's with Vivien right now.
Feeding
her." He yanked out his cell phone, started to dial, and froze.

The dragon current twitched and writhed with a ghosting of dark magic, and an instant later, the diner's door swung open once more, carrying cold air and a trace of brimstone.

The intern Darqun had met here before, John Weston, sidled inside, no coat, his skin puckered, his expression distraught.

"Your friend's over there," Ida called, and gave a vague gesture in Darqun's direction.

Turning slowly, as though the movement was too difficult, too painful, John caught sight of Darqun, and his whole body seemed to deflate.

Darqun didn't need the guy to say a damn thing. He could smell the brimstone, stronger now, and demon magic and something else…

Horror etched deep lines in John's face, and tension tightened the intern's lean frame.

As their eyes locked, Darqun's gut clenched. There'd been another killing.

Unease ramped up to dread as he dialed Dain's number.

Dain's cell vibrated in his pocket; he pulled it out and saw that the caller was Darqun. Instinct told him he wanted to take this call.

He scanned the coffee shop for threat, using both magic and his physical senses. Nothing in here. But there were definitely
hybrids
outside, maybe half a block away.

Catching hold of the
continuum
, he moved himself back outside, near the car, where he had a clear view of Vivien through the windows and an equally clear view of the street should the
hybrids
come for her.

If anything, the trip out of the coffee shop was slower and more disturbing than the trip in. He leaned his hip against the car as he flipped open the phone.

"Yeah," he rasped.

"Dain, good to hear your voice, man." Darqun sounded oddly relieved. "Was Vivien with you all night?"

Dain's gaze flicked to Vivien, lingering on her profile. "Yeah, she was with me every second. Why?"

"You're sure?"

Oh, yeah. He was sure. "A hundred percent. I spelled and warded my place outside and in. If she left, I woke up. End of story."

"Did she drain you?"

Jesus. What kind of question was that? "Don't ask for details, Dar. You're not gonna get them."

She'd drained him, and him stupidly neglecting himself the past couple of weeks hadn't helped. He should have recharged while he slept, but he hadn't, which made him wonder if just sleeping next to Vivien was enough to let her continue feeding off him.

Dain shook his head. The sidewalk was doing one hell of a freaky sideways slant thing. He leaned his forearm against the hood of the car, resting his forehead against his fist as he battled the strange vertigo.

"She was with him the whole time," Darqun said to someone in the background, then aimed his next comment at Dain. "That's all good, my man."

Despite using the car as a crutch, Dain felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He stopped drawing his magic altogether, not even bothering to refract light and veil himself from sight.

A couple teenage girls walking past spun and did a double take. From their perspective, it probably looked like he'd materialized out of thin air.

"What's good about it, Dar?" he rasped.

"Vivien's not the killer," Darqun said.

Dain stared straight ahead and felt… nothing. Because he'd known that already, had been certain of it somewhere deep inside. Vivien was Vivien, and she was no killer.

"How'd you figure that out?" he asked flatly, blinking against the bright lights that exploded in his vision.

"Two reasons. I spoke with Baunn. Catch you up on that later. But more importantly, there's another victim. Same MO. He was killed
last night
, which rules out your Vivien. Guy by the name of Glenn Stewart. I've got Jav checking his family tree for any link to the others."

Glenn Stewart
He knew that name… He'd just heard Amy mention it.

Christ… Vivien!

Dain pushed himself up off the car, his gaze skidding to the plate-glass window.

Only, the table she'd been sitting at was empty.