Dead Man Rising

Chapter Nine

Jace was waiting for me downstairs. "You okay?" he asked, as I pushed open the door to the ancient parking garage. There was an auxiliary exit here to the other side of the block, and holovid reporters wouldn't be able to catch us. There was already a swarm of them drifting across the front steps of the station house. I didn't envy Gabe having to give a press conference, but the holovids probably loved her.

"No," I said shortly.

"Rigger Hall." He scowled, stripping his hair back from his forehead with stiff fingers. "Danny."

"I don't want to talk about it." I glanced around the concrete tomb, police hovercruisers sitting dark and silent on their landing legs. They didn't have the roof space to host all the hovers on the top of the building, and they'd had to widen both the main entrance and the auxiliary, but it was good enough. A lighted booth crouched at the far end, with a whey-faced duty officer sipping coffee and pointedly ignoring us inside.

"I'm sure you don't." He caught my arm. "Danny."

Oh, please, gods, not now. "Don't, Jace. I need to go to Jado's. And I need to drink."

"It won't affect you." Why did he have to state the obvious?

Never mind that he was right—my changed metabolism simply shunted alcohol aside. It had no more effect on me than water. I was still too much of a coward to try some of the more illegal options for disorientation and sweet oblivion.

If this kept up I might get a little braver.

"I can try." My face crumpled, matching his.

"Ogoun," he breathed, and took me in his arms.

I was a little taller than I had been, but still able to rest my head on his shoulder, my face in the hollow between his throat and collarbones. I had to lean carefully—I was much heavier and stronger than I used to be. I always took point on the bounties, always worried about him catching a stray strike or bullet.

All the same, I let him hold me for a little while, listening to the echoing sounds of the garage around us. Sounds overlapped, straining and splashing against concrete, a cruiser hummed in with its cargo of a dusted-down Chill-freak for processing.

I sighed and stepped away from him, scrubbing at my left shoulder. It throbbed persistently and I wondered why. It had been cold before, a spiked mass of ice pressed into my flesh—now it was warm, a live fire twisting against my skin. The flash of heat hadn't gone away like it always did.

Had the Prince of Hell started sending me heat waves?

Perfect. Another thing to worry about.

"Don't ask me about Rigger Hall," I told him. "Okay?"

It wasn't fair. He still looked like hell, the back-to-back bounties were hard on him. Yet he hadn't complained. He'd shown up on my doorstep and stayed with me, watching my back as I flung myself into hunt after hunt, not wanting to think. He'd betrayed me once, certainly, not telling me he was Mob and abandoning me when his family threatened to assassinate me unless he came back and did their dirty work. At the time, I had known only the agony of that betrayal. But since Rio, Jace had always come through in a big way. It wasn't fair to him at all. None of this was fair to him.

True to form, he dropped the subject. "You got it, baby. I've got something better to ask you." He tapped his staff once against the old, dirty concrete, making a crisp sound that sliced through the humming whine of hovercells.

"Shoot." I started off toward the exit, he fell into step beside me, his staff clicking time against the concrete. Bones clattered dryly together; the aura of his Power was sweet and heady. No other Shaman smelled like Jace—a combination of pepper and white wine, overlaid with fiery honey. If it hadn't been a human smell, it would have been very pleasant.

"Did you love him?" To his credit, he didn't sound angry, just curious.

My boots didn't falter, but I felt like I staggered. "What?" Why the fuck are you ashing me this now? Because I yelled his name when that thing came for me? One of the silent hovers sitting obediently on its landing gear creaked, responding to my uneasiness.

I took a deep breath.

"Did you love him? The demon. Japhrimel." I could almost see Jace's mouth twisting over the name, as if it was something sour.

"Jace." I made the word clipped and harsh. "Quit it."

"I deserve an answer. I've waited long enough." Quiet. Not his usual careless, ironic tone.

"What do you deserve? You lied to me about Santino." Predictable, Danny. Take the cheap shot. You bitch.

What else could he say? I wouldn't let him defend himself. "I didn't know."

"You lied to me about the Corvin Family." Another accusation. I couldn't help myself. Why did we have to have this conversation now, of all times? Why?

"I didn't have a choice. I did what I did to protect you. They would have killed you then. When you were human."

It was the first time he'd mentioned the painful non-secret of my changed status. How long had he been thinking it? "As opposed to an abomination? You're turning Ludder now? Going to go march in front of a hospital with a 'Genesplice Is Murder' sign?" My voice bounced off the concrete, cold enough to coat my skin with ice. I could crack the pavement if I wasn't careful. It trembled on the edge of my control. All this Power, I wondered if Japhrimel had intended to teach me how to use it, how to keep it from eating me alive.

"You're just what you always were, Danny," he informed me tightly. "Stubborn and bitchy and rude. And beautiful."

"You forgot abrasive, unbending, and cruel."

"Not to mention overachieving." He sighed. "Fine. You win, okay? I just want to know, Danny. Haven't I earned it? Did you love him?"

"Why? What possible difference could it make? He's dead and he's not coming back, Jace. Let it go." We started up the ramp leading to the airseal that closed out dust and trash from the street, keeping the garage climate-controlled. He matched me step for step, as usual, his longer legs canceled out by my quicker stride and his stiff knee.

"When you let it go, I might be able to." He snapped off the end of each word.

"He's dead, Jace. Let it go." I couldn't say it any louder than a whisper, because my throat closed off as if a large rock had come to rest there. Dead, yes. But gone? No. Ask me if he's the reason I can't touch you. Ask me why I hear his voice in my head all the time. Even if I've finally found out it's true, demons aren't in Death's country.

"Fine." His staff pounded the concrete in time to our steps, bones now clattering with thinly-controlled anger. "What do you need me to do?"

I swallowed, hearing my throat click in the thick silence. I had called Japhrimel's name and not his. He had a right to be angry.

"You're in?" I sounded surprised. You've done your duty, Jace. Nobody could say you haven't, you've watched my back since Rio. What the hell does anything else matter?

"Of course I'm fucking in, Danny. What do you want me to do?" Now he sounded as irritated as he ever had, his words colored lemon yellow, acrid.

My shoulders suddenly eased a little, dropping down. I shook out my right hand, hearing the joints pop and snap. I was oddly relieved, a relief I didn't want to examine the depth of any more closely. "I need to go see Jado, do some sparring and clear my head out if I'm starting another hunt." I glanced over at him. His profile was straight and unforgiving. "Can you get me into the House of Pain? As soon as possible?"

If I didn't know him better, I'd think he went pale when he heard me say that. "Chango love me, girl, you don't ask for anything easy, do you." He actually sounded breathless.

"I don't smell human," I said dryly. "I think they'll let me in. But I need an invite or I won't get anywhere, and you've got the connections to get me one." Since you were Mob. I swallowed the words. That was history, wasn't it? Gods, if I could just let one thing be history, what would I choose?

He didn't even hesitate. "Fine. I'll get you an invitation. What'll I do while you're talking to the suckheads?"

"You're going to do some research."