Through a Crimson Veil (27 page)

Mika took a deep breath and prepared to tell him the part of her idea that would make him furious. “Yes. I’d go alone and leave you in Crimson City.”

“No.”

It was exactly the response she’d expected, and she had her argument prepared. “You can’t come to Orcus. They’re used to me. No one even blinks at my odd energy sig anymore, but you’d stand out like a neon sign. I told you before, and it’s true.”

“You can’t think I’d agree to this.”

Agree to handing her the spell and letting her cross over without him? Of course not; he didn’t trust her. But Conor had no reason to fear. She’d bargain hard and carefully with the rulers of Orcus to ensure he remained safe. She wouldn’t let him down, wouldn’t allow him to remain at risk, wouldn’t be rooked a second time. If the Council didn’t accede to her demands, if they didn’t promise straight out that he’d be safe, she wouldn’t give them the incantation—it was that simple.

This wasn’t what she addressed first, however. She knew her vishtau mate well enough to understand it wasn’t about this one thing. “You can’t protect me in the Other World,” she said. It earned her a sharp glance. “It’s true,” she continued, before he could argue. “You don’t understand the culture for one thing, and for another, your powers won’t be as impressive there. Sure, you’ll still have your auric magic, but what good is one blast when we’re surrounded by twenty demons?”

“You could do better?” he asked.

Mika smiled, not at all offended. She knew his Kiverian ego was smarting. “Of course not. But as I said, they’re used to me—I’d never be caught in a situation like that. Your presence would call attention to us and cause a confrontation.”

He grumbled but didn’t question her further, and that was a surprise. She’d thought Conor would doubt her, would think she was making it all up to get her hands on his spell. That he didn’t, made her feel warm inside—maybe he
could
trust her again. Mika wrapped her arm around his leg and rested her chin on his knee. She was a
sorry case, going back and forth between hope and despair like a kid riding a teeter-totter.

“Besides,” she went on after a pause, “I’d need you to stand watch on this side. The portal through the veil is in a dangerous part of Crimson City, and I’d hate to return to face immediate attack.”

She hoped he didn’t question too closely. Yeah, the main portal, the one that was most commonly known, was in a bad part of town, but she was aware of other smaller portals. In fact, she rarely used the main gate because of where it was located. Not only was the area of the city bad, but there were guards stationed on the Orcus side. Mika had never liked the thought of anyone realizing how frequently she crossed.

Conor gave a long, long silence, but Mika didn’t say anything, nor did she look away from him. The wait seemed interminable, but she kept herself from fidgeting—barely.

At last, McCabe scowled and said, “Here’s how we’re going to play it. I have a copy of the book. I’ll give pages of it to you, and that’s what you pass to your Council. If they agree to leave both of us alone, I’ll destroy the original as well as all backup copies.”

Mika bent her head and kissed his knee to hide her elation. He was trusting her with something vital to his wellbeing. When she could talk without him realizing how deeply touched she was, she said, “They’ll want to see you destroy the grimoire. If I bring them to the portal, you mustn’t cross, even if they demand it. I will clear the view between worlds long enough for them to watch you carry out your end of the bargain.”

“But what if me crossing over is one of their demands?”

“I won’t agree to it, no matter what.” She waved the possibility aside. “Now, we need a code, something I can say that sounds innocuous, but tips you off if there’s trouble. How about this? If at any point, I say, ‘good news’ or maybe just ‘news,’ then you’ll know things have gone to hell—okay?”

“Not okay.” Conor moved carefully, shifting her. As Mika went boneless, letting him position her beneath him, he asked, “Do you really think I’m going to send you in there alone if you think we need a code like that?”

She nodded. “Yes—because there’s no other choice. I can handle this, I promise, but it doesn’t hurt to have contingency plans.”

His pale green eyes were intensely bright, and damn, how Mika basked in their glow. She knew the timing was inappropriate, but she couldn’t prevent herself from grinning. She loved McCabe so much that it nearly left her reeling. “I won’t let you down, Conor. My word on it.”

There was a long silence as he considered. “I hope I don’t regret this, but we’ll do it your way. If things go to hell, though, you get your ass out of there ASAP. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Fair enough. If the situation deteriorates, I’ll leave.”

He cursed and shook his head. Then Conor lowered his head and kissed her.

She knew where this was leading. Bringing her leg up to cradle him closer, Mika returned the kiss with all the pentup emotion and desire she held for him. The days where he wouldn’t touch her had felt like an eternity, and she urged him on with her mouth, with her body.

Abruptly McCabe pulled away, leaving her on the bed. As he tugged on his jeans Mika sat up and said, “Wha—”

He signaled her to be quiet. Stepping into his shoes, he shrugged into a shirt. Mika went over and held her hands out in a silent question.

Conor leaned forward, put his mouth against her ear, and in a voice softer than a whisper said, “Our watcher’s back.” Then he was gone.

Mika worried as she pulled on her clothes. Sure, Mc-Cabe had that auric shield thing and so was unlikely to be hurt, but that didn’t matter; he was chasing after an unknown. Their spy could be anyone, anything. Of course she was concerned.

But she didn’t get lost in the emotion—wouldn’t let herself become lost. Her human mind realized this watcher could simply be a decoy to lure Conor away, so others could get to her. She had to be ready, just in case.

She felt more prepared once she was fully dressed, but her anxiety over Conor’s absence remained. Her eyes scanned the room, found his weapons, and the knot in her stomach tightened. He’s a demon, she reminded herself, he can take care of himself without a gun or knife. No, he wasn’t invincible, but he was pretty damn close.

Her gaze kept moving, her mind processing details for any upcoming fight and trying to find advantages. A movement in the doorway caught her eye, and her body tensed to attack. It was a relief to see Conor reappear.

“What happened?” she asked.

He gave a few heated curses. “He had enough of a headstart that he got away. I couldn’t chase him as hard or as far as I wanted, though—not with the house unprotected.”

Mika nodded, unsurprised. She knew his vigilance was unswerving.

“But I did find out one thing about our watcher,” Conor said.

He sounded so self-satisfied that Mika smiled and went to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she bit his chin and, when she withdrew, asked, “What did you discover?”

“The bastard’s a vampire.”

With Mika slightly in front of him, Conor kept his weapons within easy reach. She hadn’t exaggerated how bad this area of L.A. was, and even if they were cloaked, he wasn’t going to be caught unprepared. This place made where he’d met her look like Beverly Hills. But was she worried? Hell, no.

Mika was alert, she followed his orders, and she showed no more concern than she had while they’d walked the length of Venice Beach. But he could sense that she was nervous about facing the Council. There were layers and layers here, and just when he thought he knew her, she revealed another.

He didn’t like the idea of her going into Orcus alone. Even if he hadn’t made a promise to protect her, he wouldn’t like it. And while Mika believed her arguments had convinced him to let her go by herself, that wasn’t entirely true. The real reason he hadn’t fought her on this was guilt.

He didn’t trust her completely, and she’d picked up on that.

She’d been willing to die for him, and at a gut level he
still didn’t wholly believe in her. Conor understood she’d been trapped by her vow, and he was able to forgive her lies, but he couldn’t forget them—and his first instinct was always to take care of things himself. Remorse regarding that had compelled him to agree to her scheme. Almost immediately he’d regretted it, but if he changed his mind, that wounded look would reappear in her eyes. He was in bad shape when his first concern was whether or not he hurt a woman’s feelings.

A rat scurried in front of them, and Mika sucked in a nearly inaudible breath as she jumped back. Reflexively, Conor’s arm went around her as she collided with him. Shit, the rat was big. Conor scowled, but despite its size, the animal was frightened of them and quickly disappeared.

“I hate those things,” Mika whispered.

So did he. Memories of the time he’d lived on the streets after his mother kicked him out swamped Conor before he could put them aside. “Come on, I don’t like standing here,” he said.

“It’s not far now,” she assured him.

The only light was from the moon and a few stars visible through the smog of the city, but with the superior night vision Conor’s demon genes gave him, that was enough. There were some things he liked about being half Kiverian, and until meeting Mika, he never would have been able to confess that—not even to himself. He’d done some hard thinking while she slept, and sometime during those hours, Conor had admitted something else: If someone invented a magic pill that would make him totally human, he would no longer take it.

That thought shamed him almost as much as his distrust of Mika.

“This is it,” she said, and he put aside his thoughts to study their location.

He wasn’t surprised to see the CONDEMNED notice; the
building should have been razed years ago. Hell, every structure in the area should have been. This had to be the worst area of the city that he’d ever seen. Or smelled.

“You know it’s bad,” Mika said, laughter in her voice, “when even the condemned sign is broken.”

She turned her head and grinned at Conor over her shoulder, and he felt his heart start to race. Faint traces of moonlight illuminated her face, highlighting the gleam in her eyes and the impishness of her smile. He should tell her to get serious, that this was no time for levity, but he didn’t. This was Mika, and he’d missed her like hell. The past few days, she’d been too damn solemn, too circumspect. Maybe she thought he liked her better that way, but it wasn’t true. He was grim enough for both of them, and needed her laughter.

In spite of his better judgment, Conor reached out and pulled her to him. He managed to keep the kiss short, cognizant of the danger they were in, but he craved her in a way that went beyond physical.

“Where’s the portal?” he asked. Reluctantly, he released her.

“Inside. This way,” she said.

She led him around the side of the building and through an opening in the chain-link fence. As they entered, he heard the telltale scuttling of rats. Conor battled his revulsion. Meeting one on the street was bad enough, but dozens—hundreds—inside a confined space made his flesh crawl. Taking a deep breath to calm down was a mistake; the stench nearly overwhelmed him.

“Shit,” he muttered, and that was definitely some of what he smelled—along with vomit and the strong scent of werewolf. The last odor made Conor scan more closely, but he didn’t pick up any living creature beyond the rats and a cat or two. Good. He didn’t want to deal with anyone else.

Mika didn’t stop until they stood before a wooden door
with damaged hinges. Light was visible through the cracks. Aside from that, nothing was remarkable, but he could sense otherworldly power. Was the door an illusion, or something else? Whatever he saw, Conor doubted this was the true appearance of the gate.

“I don’t like this,” he said.

“I know, but I won’t let you down, I swear!”

Mika sounded so fierce, Conor couldn’t help but smile.

“That isn’t what I meant, honey,” he said. He decided not to take time to explain. “I just never realized there was a portal here.”

“That’s the idea.” After a pause she added, “Remember, don’t cross, okay? I know you’ll be tempted, but there are guards on the other side, and we don’t know what your powers will be like in Orcus. Finding out during a fight isn’t smart.”

“I get it,” he snapped. He wasn’t happy about it. He wanted Mika with him, he wanted her safe. “Be careful.”

“I will be—I promise.” She went up on her tiptoes, brushed her mouth over his and said quietly, one last time, “I love you, McCabe.”

Without waiting for him to speak, she walked up to the door and, after a glance over her shoulder, stepped through without opening it. He stared hard at the wooden portal, but it still looked ordinary. As soon as his amazement passed, Conor took a step to follow her. Her crossing had seemed so…final.

“Don’t worry,” a voice said. “She’s survived in Orcus her entire life without you. She’ll manage one more day.”

Conor turned to confront his father. “Why are you here?” he demanded.

“To watch your back,” Sebastian answered smoothly. “Someone had to. You were more focused on your woman than the situation.”

Conor opted not to argue. “Planning to cross back over yourself?” he asked hopefully.

“No, and I wouldn’t suggest trying to help me
through.” The Kiverian smiled and halved the distance between them. “Keep in mind that I’m the only healer on this side of the veil, and if Mika is hurt, you’ll need me again.”

The truth of his father’s words made Conor scowl. Mika’s close-call was too fresh in his mind to disregard. And this was almost a joke: The demon he’d hated his entire life, the father he’d thought of as a monster, was a healer, while Conor himself was a bounty hunter, a mercenary, a killer. He had blood on his hands—lots of it—and Mika had recently told him that healers in Orcus didn’t fight unless in self-defense or in defense of a loved one. So, which one of them was the monster? The universe had one warped sense of humor.

“Where are your buddies?” he asked his father with heavy sarcasm.

“I’ve been doing my best to evade them. They’re not happy I healed someone they want dead.” Conor’s father shrugged. “And I wouldn’t refer to them as my friends—more like, uneasy allies. They’ve always known that I worked with them to keep you safe.”

Conor went rigid, his hands fisting at his sides. It took a great deal of self-command to keep from launching himself across the room and forgetting the vow he’d made. He couldn’t contain his snarl, however, and he was sure his eyes were glowing faintly. Without his contacts in, there was nothing to disguise his anger. “Do you expect me to believe that you give a damn about me?”

“You’re my son,” came the reply.

As if that were an answer. Conor’s growl started low and increased in volume as his rage grew. Conflicting thoughts and emotions hammered at him, and he struggled to hold them in check. Some part of him was stupid enough to want to believe the bastard. Another piece was outraged that the demon who’d raped his mother dared to call him
son
.

And in the midst of this, Conor realized his Kiverian half
was not only free, it had destroyed its cage completely—he could feel his demon blood burning in his veins. That shocked him enough to regain control.

When had this happened?

He reviewed the past few days, but it had occurred so gradually, it was impossible to pinpoint one moment. He wanted to blame the change on Mika, but that was unfair. Yeah, she prodded him frequently, and had encouraged integration of his dual natures, but he was the one who’d undone the leash.

After a brief struggle, Conor stopped arguing with himself; he had more important things to focus on. “If you really want to help, tell me how to get the dark demons to leave Mika alone,” he said.

His father stared at him, and Conor stared back. He’d been surrounded mostly by humans his whole life, and the difference in aging was startling. This—like it or not—was the demon who’d fathered him; yet Sebastian appeared no more than a few years older than himself.

Conor now knew why his mother had hated to look at him; his resemblance to this man was strong. They were the same height, and of similar builds, although weightlifting had made Conor broader, more muscular. Their eye color was identical, and the only difference in their hair was the length. Conor wore his short, while Sebastian’s brushed his shoulders. No one looking at them would doubt they were related. He was probably lucky his mother had waited until he turned eighteen to throw him out of the house.

“What has she told you of them?” Sebastian asked.

Conor blinked. It took him a minute to remember what they’d been talking about, and that his father meant Mika and not his mother. “She didn’t know a hell of a lot,” he said.

“The Dark Ones do keep to themselves.” After a brief pause, Sebastian stepped closer, till only a few feet separated them. “They’re obsessive, not easily turned from a
course once they adopt it. The only way they’ll leave Mika alone is if they die. And they’re not easy to kill—perhaps not even for an auric assassin.”

“Are you saying it’s hopeless?” Conor asked.

“No. You have some points in your favor—the biggest being that they want you alive. However, all they need do is render you unconscious, and Mika will stand alone. She’s Mahsei. They’ll be able to handle her in minutes.”

“She survived when they cornered her before,” Conor said harshly.

“Because they were toying with her, not because she’s a match for them. They enjoy playing games, but twice now they’ve lost their opportunity to fulfill their assignment. It’s a mistake they won’t repeat, do you take my meaning?”

Conor nodded grimly. “They’ll go straight for the kill. You said I had a
couple
of points in my favor. What’s the other one?”

“There are two more, actually. The second is that Mika’s your vishtau mate.”

Conor turned the statement over in his mind, but it made nothing clear. “So?”

Sebastian rested his hands on his hips and asked, “What do you know of the vishtau?”

“I know that the bond is considered sacred, and that demons can only have children with one of these mates.” Conor ran a hand across the back of his neck. Damn, was Mika pregnant? he wondered.

“No, she’s not.”

Conor’s gaze snapped to his father. “How the hell did you know what I was thinking?”

“Relax,” the Kiverian said, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “I can’t read your mind; there was question in your voice as you spoke. As of yesterday, when I performed the healing, your mate wasn’t with child.”

Disappointment came out of left field, and Conor was speechless for a moment as he worked through it. What
the hell was she doing to him? With the problems he and Mika were facing, he should be thrilled there wasn’t a baby to complicate them. He cleared his throat, pushed his emotions aside, and asked, “What do I still need to know about this vishtau thing?”

“Probably a lot.” Before Conor could get irritated by the answer, the Kiverian continued, “But the part that will assist you in your battle with the dark demons is the sharing of power. Instead of both of you dipping into your own reserves, you can share one well. Something about that gives extra strength to both demons. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know, but the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.”

More potency in battle sounded good to Conor. “How do we do this?”

“There’s a price, I’m afraid.”

Conor muttered a curse. No matter how many advantages there were to being half demon, there always seemed to be drawbacks as well. “Nothing’s ever easy. Now, how do Mika and I do this?”

Sebastian studied him. “First, you’d have to perform the bonding ritual. Second, both of you would need to show absolute trust in each other. Without it, at best you’ll remain two individuals. At worst…one of you could destroy the other.”

“Explain.”

Conor’s father grimaced. “At this moment, you’re protected from most attacks. If you go through with this, you’ll have no defense against Mika. She’ll be able to kill you easily, because she’ll be behind your auric shield, not outside of it. As I said, it takes trust.”

Conor didn’t hesitate. “But, after we do it, she’d share the protection of my shield?”

His father nodded. Then he cautioned, “But it may not protect either of you from the Dark Ones.”

Although he normally wasn’t impatient, Conor found his temper wearing thin. He didn’t want partial answers; he
wanted everything laid out logically. “Start from the beginning and explain it all,” he ordered.

After a brief hesitation, Sebastian acquiesced. He recounted the bonding ritual, reciting both halves. It left Conor stunned for several reasons: first, the finality of the bond. Even if things went to hell between him and Mika—even if she left him—they’d be tied exclusively to each other sexually. No one else would be able to arouse them again, not until the vishtau mate died. It was an odd magical effect, and a daunting prospect. Secondly, he recognized the rite from one of his books. He hadn’t been able to decipher its meaning, but somehow he had memorized the passage without trying. The third thing was the most incredible of all—Mika had gasped those words during sex. She’d repeated them each and every time, and although he hadn’t understood, they’d incited Conor’s passions as if on some level his demon side recognized her call.