The Demon's Librarian

CHAPTER 4

She blinked at him owlishly, and Ryan was suddenly shaken with the urge to grab and shake her. He was in a fine stew of frustration. His Malik was gone, and he'd spent a further five worthless days trailing this skin, who didn't seem to have the faintest goddamn clue what he was talking about. And that meant Ryan had miscalculated. Paul's disappearance was linked to something else, and while he'd spent days shadowing this woman he'd probably lost track of his Malik for good.

It didn't help that he'd shown his hand too soon. He'd felt the Dog tracking her as she went on her round of work, gym, grocery store, and home; the house she'd visited turned out to obviously be her family. Then, seeing the wards crackling and smoking after repelling the demon's initial attempt, he'd simply flung himself thoughtlessly down after it, causing a whole hell of a lot of noise and attracting the attention of the authorities.

The trouble was, he hadn't stopped to rationally consider any of the consequences. Thinking of her inside the apartment while that thing came for her had damn near blinded him with red rage. He'd heard her bail out of the building behind him with that damn Fang, pain blurring and buzzing into his nerves, and he'd moved to protect her instinctively. The demon in his head hadn't fought him; as a matter of fact, the hard fiery alien part he'd inherited as a Drakul had snarled with possessive rage, spurring him on.

And then he'd lingered here and taken care of her, as if she was his Malik and not Paul, who at least deserved a Drakul who would look for him. But he had no goddamn leads, the sheela that the head librarian worked with was too damn scatterbrained to be any threat. Not to mention the fact that Ryan had tracked down Paul's dinner reservation at a tony North Side restaurant. A few careful questions had elicited the troubling news that the sheela had shown up, waited for three hours for his feckless partner, then left in high dudgeon. The head librarian had looked like his best bet… but she was obviously clueless. He had shaken her awake every hour, checking her pupils’ dilation and working what limited healing sorcery he had possession of, and the worst part of it was, he'd actually been…?

Well, frightened. He was getting awfully attached to this librarian with her obvious love of books and her practice with the heavy bag, not to mention her habit of dancing while she made dinner. Watching her for so long had given him a much better sense of her, and she wasn't like the usual brain dead skin. For one thing, she had fantastic taste in music. He hadn't heard a bad song yet.

Now the way she was staring at him told him he'd made a mistake.

"My Malik,” he said tightly. “Tall guy, wears glasses, asked you about Delmonico's Demons and Hellspawn. You know him. He had a dinner date with your friend, and didn't show. Didn't show at the rendezvous either. Where the fuck is he?"

Her eyes were extraordinarily large, and very dark. He could see the flecks of gold and green in the hazel as she stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language, her pretty mouth ajar with shock. Her hair fell over her shoulders, tangled and rumpled, and her torn T-shirt and boxers had been soaked with rainwater. He hadn't tried to get her into anything dry, but he'd wondered if he should. She stared at him, one hand creeping out to touch the hilt of her knife. He was fairly sure he could fend her off, especially in her injured state, but he wanted information and her help, and the best way to get that was by being… well, charming.

Too bad the charming half of this partnership was gone.

The thought of Paul charming his way around this woman called up a hot nasty flare of emotion he didn't want to examine more closely. Ryan decided to try again. “Look.” He tried to make his tone as soft and cajoling as possible. “I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to frighten you. It's very important that I find my partner, and you seemed like the best bet I had of finding him. You have no idea what kind of trouble could come down if I don't track him.” The Malik will eat you for breakfast, sweetheart. You won't know what hit you if they decide you're a threat.

"You've been following me.” She reached out, and he controlled the urge to twitch away as she plucked the jar of ointment from his fingers. “Get out."

"What?” She didn't just say that, did she? Not very grateful. But she's smart, she's put two and two together and come up with me following her. Probably even suspected it, she's been edgy for days now. That was a stupid move, leaning against her wards like that.

"I don't know what books your partner was talking about, and I don't care.” She was lying, and if she hadn't been so hurt she might have actually pulled it off. Her pupils dilated, and her fingers curled around the hilt of the knife. She had turned deadly-pale, the bruise on her forehead stretching up into her hair suddenly standing out heavy and glaring against the chalky tone of her skin. That alarmed him more than he liked to admit. “Get out. Get out."

"I saved your life,” he reminded her. And you don't know it, but I'm going to save your life again. The Malik will kill you if you don't join them. They will follow you until you slip up, and they'll find wherever you've hidden those books, and they will take them. If you're not part of the Order, you're part of the problem, and they are very good at solving problems. “You could at least hear me out before you do anything hasty."

"How do I know you didn't sic that thing on me?” She tensed, putting her hand with the jar down as if she was about to push herself up to standing. “Get the fuck out of my house or I'll—"

He grabbed her shoulders, shoving her back down on the battered, rose-patterned couch and wincing inwardly when she flinched, letting out a soft sound of pain. Great, you big dumb Drakul. Just perfect. Scare her even more. “Or you'll what? Call the cops? Tell them I'm a big bad demon hunter? I saved your life, and I'm Drakulein. I don't sic demons on people.” He felt his lips pull back in a wide, humorless smile; she had no idea of the depth of the insult. “I am of the Order of the Dragon, a knight of the Balance, and it's because of people like me that ordinary skins can walk around safe at night. You found a cache of sorcerous books, you're relatively bright and you have some talent. You've started messing around with things you don't understand, fine. But if you don't start listening to me you're going to end up in a world of hurt. You can take that to the bank, sweetheart."

Her eyes flashed at him. “Don't you fucking dare call me sweetheart,” she hissed. “Get your hands off me and get out of my goddamn house!"

"No.” You're not Malik, I'm not bound to obey you. And if I leave you alone, you'll get yourself killed. “I'll make you a deal, librarian. You help me find my Malik and I'll overlook your screwing around with demons. How about it?"

Color began to flood her cheeks. She was even prettier when she was angry, despite her tangled hair and the bruise on her face, which was rapidly starting to look much better. Whatever was in that oily goop was evidently worth its weight in gold. “I don't screw around with demons. I hunt them. Where were you when that octopus thing was eating schoolkids, huh? Well? Where were you? Spying on someone else?"

Schoolkids? The skornac? His hands gentled on her shoulders. She'd actually damn near dislocated one of them and he didn't want to add to the pain. “Wait a second.” Damn, her eyes are pretty. Look at that, her eyebrows are perfect, and when her eyes light up… Keep your mind on your goddamn work, Ryan. “Kids? Octopus—a skornac was taking humans?"

The change that came over her face was alarming. She bit her lower lip and nodded. “I f-found out.” The color started to fade from her cheeks, and he suddenly had the horrible idea that she had indeed gone out and killed a skornac all by her lonesome. The thought managed to turn his knees to jelly. He was glad to be actually on his knees and braced against the couch. “It started with r-rats, and then moved to c-cats and kids. F-five of them. The newspapers thought it was a… a human. I knew better."

"Wait a second. Just hold on one goddamn second. Don't tell me you…” He searched her face. She didn't look half as angry now. As a matter of fact, she looked like a woman reliving a nightmare, and he had the sudden uncharacteristic desire to smooth her hair back from her face and say something soothing.

"I caught a glimpse one night as it took a… a victim. He was n-nine… I bought a knife and researched all the demons I could, and I followed it.” She was ashen instead of pale now, her skin taking on a tint he didn't like one bit. “Then I researched some more, finished consecrating this—” She held up the sheathed knife. It was a long, double-bladed beauty with a plain, high-quality hilt; the blade was a good six inches long, a thin line of glowing blue between the hilt and the sheath. “And I tracked it down by using a dowsing-pendulum. I caught sight of it, it went underground, and I followed it into the sewer and k-killed it."

Ryan let go of her shoulders. He sat down, hard, on the hardwood floor and stared at her. Cold sweat prickled on his back. She's either incredibly fucking lucky or very, very talented. Either way… Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, she killed a skornac. On her own. She should have had a Drakul there to protect her. She should never have been allowed near one of those filthy fucking things, she's lucky to still be alive.

Not to mention that if the skornac had been taking humans, something was very, very wrong here. This was a free city, not policed like a Malik town was, but an uneasy border between the Inkani in the far south and the Malik territories to the colder north. Each enclave of Others here was supposed to operate by its own rules, and the Inkani weren't supposed to spill out into its pressure zone. But this was a keyhole city, and if the Inkani took it they would likely take a large chunk away from the already-stretched-thin Malik.

And the skins would suffer.

He would have to look around and see what was going on. A skornac taking humans could be a freak occurrence, like winning the lottery was a freak occurrence.

Or, far more likely, it was the Inkani, the hellspawn themselves and their human dogs, trying to expand.

If it was the Inkani, she was looking at a very short lifespan indeed without a Drakul's protection. And Paul was either hunkered down somewhere waiting for Ryan to find him, or he was messily, painfully dead.

He stared at her, a small, tangled woman who had flung herself out into the dark alley last night as if she could protect him. A woman who said she had managed to consecrate a Fang, though he was sure she had only found it, since all the Phoenicis were gone. But the knife was evidently new, it wasn't an antique. How could he explain that?

Her wrists were thin, she barely reached his collarbone, and even though she was hell on wheels against a heavy bag, she wouldn't have a chance in hell against a combat-trained Malik, let alone even a small demon.

"You need to get out of my house,” she said finally, as he stared at her, his jaw suspiciously loose. “I don't like being spied on and lied to.” Her chin lifted stubbornly, and Ryan realized he was in very deep trouble. The thought of her facing down a skornac made the inside of his chest feel curiously leaden and cold.

Come on, Ryan. Use that tongue of yours for something constructive. What would Paul say? “I was just being cautious, not spying on you. You know all about being cautious, sweetheart. You played your cards so well Paul doubted you had anything to do with the missing books. You found Melwyn Evrard Halston's library, didn't you? And once you figured out what it was and that it was for real, you didn't tell anyone. You just quietly went about making some ritual implements and went chasing after a fucking class-3 demon. That wasn't very cautious, but females get a little impulsive, I'm told.” Whoops. That didn't come out right. “Imagine you didn't know about any of this. What would you have said if Paul came up to you and announced he was a demon hunter and suspected you of knowing about a cache? If you didn't laugh at him you'd call the cops and have him hauled to the funny farm, if they could catch him. We had to be sure.” Not to mention the fact that killing that skornac's made you a target. If we found you, the Inkani can find you too. If they find you you're dead. And I'll be damned before I let that happen. “You made a lot of noise and mess killing that thing, and you've attracted a lot of attention. Like it or not, you need me."

That gave her chin an even more defiant tilt. The ashen tone to her cheeks was going away, thank God, and he was beginning to recover from the feeling of being punched in the gut.

Beginning to. Thinking of what the Inkani would do to her made the feeling threaten to come back. “I don't need you,” she informed him haughtily. “I'm doing just fine on my own. And quit calling me that. You may address me as Ms. Barnes."

Keep dreaming, sweetheart. You're only doing fine on your own because nobody's found out about you yet. You've got some damn good protective coloration, but that won't save you. “Look.” He had to work for an even tone. “You don't understand what you've gotten into here. I got that thing away from your window and you helped me kill it. Good. We can make a good team. I have to find my Malik, and I'd hate it if the Inkani got their claws in you. I can teach you how to fight more effectively, and you can do me the honor of trusting me. I won't ask where the goddamn books are.” Besides, if you join the Order, they'll have it out of you sooner or later. You're talented enough they'll cut you some slack.

Especially if Ryan explained it to them the right way. He couldn't lie, but he could shine the most positive light on her actions.

Christ, what are you contemplating? You're can't get emotionally involved with her. You're a Drakul, and they won't even let you do so much as sniff her hair. Keep yourself under control.

Too goddamn late for that. He knew, with miserable certainty, that he had committed a grave sin and allowed himself to get attached. It would be deathly hard to fight his instincts and let her go into the Order, let her be whisked away, vanishing into the Malik. And if they guessed he'd gotten possessive over her…?

She again stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. He wanted a closer look at the gold flecks in her eyes, but didn't dare move. “What's Ankeny?"

"Inkani,” he corrected automatically, hearing the strange accent in the word as if for the first time. “They're the upper echelon of demons, the people that have made deals with them in return for privilege and power. The Order—the Malik and Drakulein—are the people that keep them in check, fight them off, and keep the rest of you skins from becoming slaves."

"Skins?” she whispered. At least there was no more of the get-out-of-my-house stuff. But she was alarmingly pale again, and he began to worry that he should have fed her before questioning her.

"People with no sorcerous ability. Humans. The people we protect.” He was beginning to feel a little less woozy. If Paul was still alive, he was likely to stay that way, having found a good bolthole; if he wasn't, there was nothing Ryan could do about it now. The Inkani were bad, but he'd fought them before, and with this little prize to bring back to the Malik he could probably escape a black mark on his record. He could handle this.

Maybe. With a miracle or two he might even be able to pull this one off.

"I'm a… a skin?” Her eyebrows drew together, and she put aside the jar of sparkling ointment, on a teetering stack of books. A few reference texts about old bookbinding, Carlyle's The French Revolution, a few herbals, and a battered leatherbound Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn in one package. Odd, but he'd come to expect that from her.

"Not any more,” he said shortly. “Now you're a Malik recruit. Congratulations."

She pushed the down comforter—dragged off her bed, he thought, seeing it was blue like the rest of her bedroom—away. The boxers rode up, exposing very interesting legs, sleek and smoothly muscled, the horrible scrape on her knee already looking much less serious. Her toenails were painted with crimson polish, and there was a smear of dried mud on her left ankle. Add to that her torn T-shirt, slipping down and showing a slice of her bruised shoulder as well as the top slope of a perky C-cup that most definitely wasn't trapped in a bra, and he suddenly found it a little difficult to breathe. “That's an honor I can do without,” she said, dryly, and he recognized the tone as “professional".

He knew enough from watching her to guess that meant trouble, especially with the way her shoulders went back and one eyebrow arched, the equivalent to a cobra's hood spreading out or a mama bear's warning growl. Uh-oh. “Look, sweetheart—"

"I've had enough,” she interrupted, making it to her feet and wincing as more aches and pains became apparent. “I'm going to the bathroom and I'm going to get dressed. Then I'm going to have some breakfast. We're even, you yourself said so. You can go looking for your friend and I'll take care of my library. I don't like being spied on, and if your friend Paul hadn't been such an arrogant idiot he might have had better luck. He quit paying attention to me and spent his time flirting with my coworker and then proceeded to stand her up. I don't think much of either of you. By the time I finish in the bathroom I expect you to be gone. Lock the door on your way out."

Goddamn it. What part of this do you not understand, woman? He made it to his feet in one swift motion, a little gratified when she flinched. I don't like scaring you, but I will if I have to. “I am not going anywhere.” He folded his arms and glared at her. “You're going to help me find my Malik, and I'm going to keep you alive long enough to figure out how to keep the Order from making a mess of your life. Because they will, sweetheart. You have no idea."

"I don't think much of your Order and I think even less of you.” Her eyes lit up with what he recognized as incandescent fury. It made her even more beautiful, and he wondered how Paul could have ever thought her less than stunning. Or even been attracted to the sheela with this woman around. “Nobody tells me what to do, and nobody's going to try to steal my library! Where were all the rest of you when I was taking care of it? I've done all the work and now you want to ride in and take the credit. No, thank you! Where was your goddamn Order when I was hunting down the—ulp!"

He didn't mean to, but he almost knocked her off her feet. His arm locked around her throat, not tight enough to cut off her air but tight enough to pull her back against him. She struggled and raked at his forearm with her short fingernails, also tried stamping on his foot. But there were advantages to being Drakul: enhanced strength wedded to quicker reflexes, reinforced bones and superior musculature. Besides, she'd taken a hell of a beating and was in no condition to fight him.

Time to put this in terms you can understand. “I don't want your goddamn library,” he said in her ear, getting a good lungful of her. She smelled, even after last night's dip in alley water, of clean herbal shampoo and that maddeningly elusive warm, fresh golden scent that made it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying. “As far as I'm concerned, the Order won't hear about your books from me. You're just talented enough to have picked up a lot of this as you go along. What I do want is to find my Malik and keep you alive, sweetheart, and if you make it difficult for me, I'll make it much more difficult for you. Trust me, you don't want that. Since I'm prepared to play it nice and easy, I suggest you do the same."

She even tried to elbow him, but the fight gradually went out of her. She went limp. He could almost feel her vibrating with fury nevertheless. “Deal, Miss Barnes?” I kind of like this, having her struggle. She's so damn bossy. But I like that about her too.

One last frantic burst of effort, then she sagged exhausted against him again, and he had another problem—he was starting to respond. Starting to?

No, he already had. His skin flushed with heat and the demon part of him—suspiciously quiet for too goddamn long—roared into life. He had to clamp down on his control, trained into him harshly the instant the Malik found him, and hope she didn't notice that the man holding her still was not only shaking slightly and sweating, but also sporting a serious hard-on.

Without a Malik around to remind him of his duty, he was about to get very attached to this bossy little librarian, and that wasn't something the Order would look kindly on at all. If his instincts were triggered things could get messy indeed.

If? It's too goddamn late. I'm in too deep already, and this has barely gotten started. She's mine. Nobody knows it yet, but she's mine.

"Bully,” she said harshly, and he hoped he wasn't choking her. “You're nothing but a big bully, and I hate bullies."

"You were pretty glad to see me last night. Do we have a deal, librarian?” If she moves, if she leans back or even tries to struggle… The world narrowed to a single thread, Ryan fighting to stay perfectly still, perfectly calm, controlled. I am Drakulein. I am of the Order of the Dragon. I do not force myself on women, nor do I hurt them. I am Drakul.

The mantra helped, but only a little.

"Fine.” Her voice broke. “Deal. Let go of me."

I don't know if I can. But he did. As soon as her feet touched the floor she scrambled away from him, pausing at the edge of the living room, in her bedroom doorway. The bathroom had two doors, one to her room and one to the short hall leading to the kitchen, but she was probably instinctively retreating to the place where she slept. “Don't ever do that again,” she said tonelessly, rubbing at her throat with gentle fingers.

Though he knew he hadn't come close to choking her, he still felt a sharp spear of that new, aching feeling. Guilt. “Don't give me reason to.” He earned himself a glare that could shatter a clock face. “I'll make you breakfast. How do you like your eggs?"

"You leave my kitchen alone. I'll make my own damn breakfast.” And with that, she vanished into her bedroom.

Perfect. I managed to handle that in a spectacularly bad way. But she's agreed, and she's decent, so she'll probably live up to it. That, however, was the least of his problems. He had to find his Malik and find out what the Inkani were up to. And then he had to figure out how to stay as close to her as possible, for as long as possible.

I'm in trouble, and if the Order finds out I'll never see her again. His throat went dry, and he retreated to the dining room, where he'd left his weapons and his bag. What am I thinking of? I'm contemplating something very dangerous. Let's hope I come to my senses sometime soon.

But he heard the shower gurgle into life, and his entire body seemed to vibrate with tension, kicking up a notch. It was too late. She'd triggered some of the worst and deepest instincts a Drakul had, and he was in the biggest mess of his life, without the faintest idea of how he'd gotten there.