The Trouble with Demons (46 page)

“You don’t want to risk the rock getting pissed off and blowing up the entire island.”

“Precisely.”

“Okay, fine. No turning the Saghred into a cannonball. I’m open to any and all ideas. But while we have a little breathing room, let’s confront the problem head-on. I’m past ready to roll up my sleeves and get to work.”

Mychael shook his head, smiling. “And the fact that the finest magical minds couldn’t destroy it means nothing to you.”

“Oh, it means something. It means they weren’t as motivated as I am.” I met his smile and raised him a grin. “Or as you would say, as stubborn. Until two days ago, no one thought the Saghred could be opened, either.” I jerked a thumb toward the hall outside the office. “But no one has had my dad as a consultant before. He’s been with the Saghred for centuries; and for the past year he’s been
inside
of it—so he knows it literally inside and out. He’s free now. With what he knows, and what we can find out, if there’s a way, we’ll find it. Tam thinks that the Saghred caused the umi’atsu bond between us. I agree with him. And a three-way umi’atsu bond is a first, right?”

“I’ve never heard of one before.”

“Then maybe we’re linked in a different way since the glue that’s holding us together is the Saghred and not each other. Get rid of the glue, get rid of the bond. Get rid of our problem.” I looked at him expectantly. “What do you say?”

“I say you’re right.”

I think my mouth dropped open a little. “You do? I mean . . . I am?”

“I can’t agree with you?”

“It’s just not something I expected.”

Mychael smiled slowly, his eyes lit with a dangerous sparkle. “I can do the unexpected, Raine. It’s not just my job that I’m good at.”

 

 

It was bright and sunny on the
Fortune
. It was edging toward late
afternoon, so the sun had finished baking the wooden decks for the day, and a cooling breeze was coming off the harbor. I was sitting on a bench, working on my third ale, or was it my fourth? I hadn’t bothered to keep count. I’d hauled the small keg up on deck with me to save myself the walk down to the galley, though now it’d probably be more like a stagger.

I’d left Mychael’s office feeling confident enough, but the closer I got to the
Fortune
, the more my enthusiasm started to wane under the weight of reality. Carnades wouldn’t stay at home forever, Markus would make his move soon, Sarad Nukpana’s soul was out body shopping, Rudra Muralin was in the goblin embassy plotting my death, and the Reapers could find me anytime, anywhere.

Then there was Mychael and Tam—and me with Mychael and Tam. So far I hadn’t had any time to really consider the consequences of our predicament, and I’d been avoiding to the point of denial the fact that a large segment of goblin society considered me married to both of them. Part of me rather liked the idea and felt deliciously naughty about the whole arrangement. The other part of me went with a time-honored Benares solution—if I drank enough, my problems would go away, probably along with my consciousness, but I’d deal with that when I found myself facedown on the deck.

And all of my problems and predicaments were courtesy of a fist-sized, soul-sucking rock.

Where I was sitting, anyone who wanted to spy on me—or take their best shot—could do so to their heart’s content. I didn’t care about that, either, and cared less after each tankard. Vegard and Arlyn had strongly suggested that the safe place for me to do my drinking would be belowdecks. I strongly refused, and in emphatic and colorful terms told them that I was staying precisely where I was and that I wanted to be left alone. They were still on deck with me, but guarding me from a respectful distance. If I fell over—either from ale or a crossbow bolt—I was sure they’d pick me up. I took another long drink. I knew I was behaving like an ass, and I’d have to apologize to them later, but for now I wanted sun on my face and a keg by my side.

I’d never been good with feelings. Don’t get me wrong; I was on a first-name basis with fear and anger, but feelings of the romantic kind . . . Well, let’s just say our paths hadn’t crossed that often. I’ve never been what you’d call datable. When a man found out my last name was Benares, all I had to do was watch his face and know how that relationship was going to go—or not go. It was all in the eyes; they either bugged out in sheer terror, or narrowed in anticipatory greed. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a middle ground.

Mychael and Tam were two notable exceptions.

So far all my romantic encounters with Mychael had been for diverting enemy attention, for healing, or for relief that I wasn’t dead—at least those were his excuses. But after what he’d said, not said, and implied in his office a few hours ago, I had the feeling that Mychael’s excuses were turning into intentions. And regardless of what Vegard said, or Mychael might think, or I might want, the top lawman in the seven kingdoms could hardly get involved with a member of the top criminal family. Talk about a career-destroying move. Though with the Saghred involved, career-destroying was also life-threatening. But that hadn’t stopped me from pondering some intentions of my own. What had happened when he’d touched me wasn’t a feeling or a sensation; it was an experience of the once-in-a-lifetime kind. And I’d already been treated to it twice in two days.

Then there was Tam. I knew what Tam wanted from me—the same thing he’d wanted since the night we’d met. And during the time that I’d known him, those black, bedroom eyes of his made sure I didn’t forget it. I was pretty sure his feelings for me went beyond what would no doubt be an amazing time in bed—or on the floor, in the tub, or against the wall—I just didn’t know how far those feelings went, and Tam hadn’t seen fit to tell me. And in any romantic encounters with Tam, my good sense had left the room. Tam could do that to a woman, and he certainly did that to me. Then there was Tam’s past. Normally a man’s past wouldn’t bother me, as long as it stayed in the past where it belonged. But Tam’s notoriety, indiscretions, sins, and assorted crimes weren’t just chasing him, they were catching up.

Two gorgeous, sexy, dangerous, and downright delicious men. And now the Saghred was playing matchmaker for me with both of them, making it a bad situation with even worse timing, and I didn’t even want to think about the ending. But what if we got rid of the rock, and the bonds, and no one was trying to arrest and/or kill us anymore? What if it was just Tam and me, or Mychael and me? What would I do then? And who would I want to be doing it with?

I drained my tankard and reached for the keg’s tap.

“You might want to rethink that,” Sora Niabi suggested. “Or at least admit the reason for it.”

The demonologist was standing close enough to talk, but far enough away not to get hit with anything I might possibly throw in her direction. Apparently she’d seen her share of mean drunks in her time.

I bristled. “Why?”

“Draining that keg isn’t going to make whatever’s wrong any better, and pickling your brain never helps anything.”

“So you’ve never gotten pickled?”

She let out a snort of a laugh. “Plenty of times. I hunt demons for a living.”

“Since you’re here, does that mean the demon hunt’s over?”

“It does.”

“Wanna join me?”

“Love to.”

I looked around, seeing nothing but my tankard and one keg. “We’ll have to get—”

Sora flashed a grin and pulled a dinted metal mug from her robes. “I always carry my own.”

“That’s convenient.”

“And ensures I never go thirsty.”

Sora sat down on the deck next to the keg, filled her mug, and with a sore and weary sigh, slowly eased back against the mainmast.

“There’s plenty of room on the bench,” I told her.

“I’m good right where I am.” Sora took a long drink and nodded appreciatively. “A fine brew. My compliments to your cousin.”

I pushed on the tap and started refilling my tankard. “Phaelan thinks a happy crew is a loyal crew.”

“This would certainly help. And you’re sitting here getting yourself happy because . . . ?”

“I’m scared and I’m confused, and I’m overwhelmed by what I’m scared of and confused about.”

Sora’s brow creased in concentration. “That almost made sense.”

“Thank you.”

“And will emptying that keg make you any less confused, scared, and overwhelmed?”

“No, but—”

“Let’s see . . . One, you’re alive. And considering present circumstances, you used up half a dozen miracles making
that
one happen. Two, so you’ve got people after you.” She dismissively waved her hand. “They’re all assholes.”

“Powerful assholes,” I reminded her. I think my words were starting to slur.

Sora took another healthy swig. “All that means is they can blow more gas.”

I had to laugh, even though it hurt my head. “I don’t think Carnades blows gas.”

“You’re right. Too tight-assed.” She paused with a knowing grin. “Third, and the main reason you’re trying to drown yourself in a keg, you’ve got man problems.”

I saw no reason to deny it. “On top of all my others. And it’s not a man problem—it’s a
men
problem.”

Sora nodded. “Ah. Let me guess—two men, one you, and a lot of confusion in between. Seen it before.”

“Not like this, you haven’t. And it’s not like I’ve had time to sit around and make a list of pros and cons.”

“You don’t need a list. What’s your gut tell you?”

I grimaced and burped. “That I should have stopped two tankards ago.” I leaned forward and dropped my face into the hand not holding the ale. “And being anywhere near me is going to get them both killed.”

“Both meaning Mychael Eiliesor and Tamnais Nathrach?”

“That would be them.” My words were muffled against my hand.

“First of all, I’d like to congratulate you on some damn fine taste in men.”

“Thank you.”

“So you’re saying that you’re not interested in either one of them?”

I lifted my head and regretted it. “I’m saying that I
can’t be
.”

“You can tell yourself that until you’re blue in the face.” She indicated my ale mug. “Or in your case, throbbing in the head. All the ale on this island isn’t going to change how you feel here.” She took the hand that wasn’t holding her mug and poked herself twice in the center of her chest. I think she was swaying, or maybe it was me. “I take it that’s the source of your confusion?”

“Uh-huh.” I couldn’t tell her that it was also the source of my fear. Sora didn’t know about the Saghred’s foray into match-making, and it was safer for her if she stayed that way. Sometimes, ignorance wasn’t just bliss, it was survival. But I could tell her about Mychael’s excuses turning into intentions, and Tam’s lust turning into . . . well, serious lust and more. My love life had been mostly famine, but soon I might be confronted with a feast—and a choice.

I told her, and she listened.

“Being a demonologist gives you a certain perspective on life,” Sora told me. “I went up against I don’t know how many demons in that dark hall, with nothing but a handful of backup and half a dozen old and overused demon traps. By the way, that backup was some of your uncle’s crew.”

“I saw.”

“When you and Captain Benares went missing, the commodore went to Mychael and demanded to help find you. The paladin and I knew where you were by that time, and with the Guardians protecting the students, I needed some strong backs to haul in my big-ass demon traps.”

“Looked like a coffin to me.”

Sora flashed a grin. “For a demon, that’s what they are. My own invention. Once we got them spaced out around the Assembly outer hall, we opened them up and sucked the bastards right off the face of the earth.”

“So what kept us from getting sucked in?”

“Shields and the fact that you’re not a demon.”

I chuckled and shook my head, slowly this time. “Some would say that’s open for debate.”

“Earlier models couldn’t tell the difference between demon and mortal.” She paused and looked a little embarrassed. “Design flaw.”

“That’s some flaw.”

“Especially to the poor demonologist who got sucked in there with them; I had a hell of a time getting him out. Your uncle’s crews hauled the traps in and then stayed to pose as lunch to lure the demons into range. Your Uncle Ryn and his officers took on a pack of Volghuls that arrived before we were ready to start the party.” Sora smiled fondly. “The demons were actually afraid of your uncle. He and his crew are a fine bunch of men.”

Now that was something Uncle Ryn and his crew had never been called. But I had to agree with Sora, any man who’d act like demon food, even for a few seconds, was worthy of any and all kinds of admiration.

“Your family’s good people, Raine.”

“They’re pirates.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not good people.”

I smiled. Sora was good people, too. “All of your students are okay?” I asked.

Sora’s smile spread into a grin of fierce pride. “Every last one of them. And after what some of my grad students did in the Assembly, they’ll be graduating with honors. Two of them didn’t have the best grades in their class, but exam scores don’t mean shit when you’ve got a ten-foot-tall demon trying to have you for a snack. It’s what those two kids did to that demon that mattered. I’m proud of my students.” She looked me squarely in the eyes. “And having demons trying to eat you reminds you real quick what’s important and which things just don’t matter. It seems that our fine paladin’s acknowledging that he has some strong feelings for you. And I gather that you’ve known for some time how Nathrach felt. And you telling them that you can’t be with either one of them won’t do a damned thing to change their minds once they’ve made them up.” Her dark eyes sparkled appreciatively. “In case you haven’t noticed—and I’m sure you have—our paladin is a grown man.”