The Demon's Librarian

CHAPTER 9

For some reason, her alarm didn't go off, so it was her mother's phone call at noon that woke her up. “Chess? Honey, are you all right? Sharon said you ate some bad Chinese. Have you stopped throwing up?"

"Mmh?” Chess blinked at her clock and at the fall of weak winter sunlight coming in through her bedroom window. She hadn't even pulled the curtains last night. “What time is it?” I sound dazed. I feel dazed.

"It's noon, sleepy. She said you had a neighbor helping you. Are you all right?” Mom was in the kitchen, Chess could hear splashing water. Washing dishes, which was a sure sign of Mom's worry. There was an indistinct murmur in the background—Chess's father. “Be quiet, Brian, I'm asking her! Sweetie, are you all right?"

Chess winced, yawning. Her head hurt, and so did her shoulder and her ribs; deep bruising, she suspected, from being tossed into a Dumpster. The salve could only do so much, even though the swelling had gone down and most of the surface coloration was gone. I should feel grateful I didn't break a bone. “Better,” she managed. “What's Dad doing home?” He should have been at the college, teaching.

More water splashing. “Oh, he's got the sniffles, and it's Friday. His students needed the time off, so I got stuck with him. Should I bring you some soup and your Connie Frances CD?"

Oh, Christ, Mom, I can't wait for you to meet this guy. He wears my T-shirts and gets them all soaked with blood; he screams my name in crowded bars and gets between me and hell-dog demons. Oh, and he's part demon too. A real winner. “No, Mom, I'm still feeling a little squidgy.” Her voice was husky, probably from last night's screaming. She sounded sick. “I feel really bad, and I like to be alone when I throw up."

"Are you still throwing up? Maybe I'll send Charlie over,” Mom waffled. Chess could hear the battle between “motherly concern” and “leave her alone to rest."

"No, Mom. I'll be fine, I'm okay. I'll call you in a day or so when I feel better, you can cook me chicken and garlic. How about that?” And by then I might have a good way to explain all this. Sure. If I have a miracle and a couple of lexicons.

"Sure, honey. You call if you need anything, and you keep covered up and away from drafts. Drink plenty of fluids. Do you need groceries?"

"No, Mom.” Her throat was full. Her mother was worried, and Chess had been withdrawing lately. Well, I've been chasing demons at night, and that kind of eats into my energy level. “I'm fine."

"All right, sweets. Go back to sleep. Call me if you're still throwing up tomorrow.” Mom hung up reluctantly, and so did Chess. She met Buster Keaton's eyes from behind the glass, and wondered why her apartment was so silent.

Then she picked up the pink handset and dialed again. She loved this phone, it reminded her of Mae West. Come up and see me sometime, Mae's throaty voice whispered, and Chess actually smiled.

"Jericho City Library, Emma speaking. How may I help you?” Yet another unremittingly-perky voice. Chess could see Emma's round face and flyaway golden hair.

Chess cleared her throat. “Em? It's Chess."

"Good Lord, you sound awful. Don't worry about a thing, Sharon opened and I'm manning the Reference desk. It's Friday, and we've already had a visit from Pembroke the Indignant."

Chess's heart plunged. She heard the familiar sounds of the library behind Emma's voice: paper, the murmuring quiet, and a soft voice—probably Sharon's. “It's Chess,” Emma stage-whispered. “She sounds terrible."

"What did old Pemmican want?” Chess asked. I do sound terrible. I wonder how much of it is hunting demons and how much is just me?

"Just to return some Faulkner and to leave you a fruit basket. The damn thing looks older than the Mayflower—the fruit basket, I mean. Though Pem's close. Guess you won her crotchety old heart.” Emma giggled, a carefree sound. “Connie's been asking for you, something about budget meetings, and Loren wants you to look over the new catalog. We caught a pair of teenagers making out in the Biography section; there was a bra on the floor. And the downstairs toilet needed plunging again. All in all, a normal day.” There was a series of soft muted beeps, the phone was ringing again. “Oh, and some guy named Paul was in here for you. Very dishy. Share wouldn't talk to him, gave him the cold shoulder. He left his number."

What? Chess struggled to sit up, reaching for her journal. The pen skittered away but she caught it. “Hang on, let me get my pencil.” It was an old library joke, and Emma laughed again. “Give me the number?"

Em did. “Do me a favor and don't call anyone, you sound like Kathleen Turner. Go back to bed and drink lots of liquids, okay? Don't eat Chinese no more."

"I'll put it in my day planner. I'm sorry, Em.” No, the first thing I've got to do is get the demon hunter off my couch. At least, I think he slept on my couch. Chess took a deep breath. She smelled something wonderful, something magnificent, something fantastic.

She smelled coffee.

Well, now she knew he was in her apartment. Bless him. And then she remembered his body pressing against hers, and his mouth; he'd kissed her. Shoved her up against the wall and kissed her, real he-man style. I should be furious over that. Okay, I'm furious. We're going to have a little chat about how to treat a woman like a human being instead of a china figurine. Or a rubber doll. Or something like that.

"Now you stop that right now,” Em's voice fairly crackled. “You haven't taken a day off for good behavior in three years. No wonder it took Chinese to do you in. Grady won the office pool, his bet was two years."

Grady? Oh yeah, the volunteer with the thick horn-rim glasses. There was a betting pool? “I don't want to hear this,” she mumbled. “Thanks, Em."

"Go back to bed.” Emma was actively giggling by the time she hung up. That was Em, always sunny.

Except for those three days a month, that is. She laid the phone down, collapsed back into bed, holding the journal. She coughed, closed her eyes, and blinked again. The sunlight falling across her bed was welcome, very welcome; the rain had stopped for a while. The coffee-smell got stronger, and she began to hear little sounds of someone moving, as if he was making noise for her.

Just as she thought that, he appeared in the door, his eyes half-closed against the bright light. His hair stood up in soft blue-black spikes, and his eyes seemed to look right through her. He'd managed to repair his original T-shirt, and his jeans were clean, looking like they hadn't been all ripped and bloody last night. “How are you feeling?” His tone was soft, conciliatory. He leaned against the doorjamb, hunching his shoulders as if he wanted to appear smaller.

Fat chance. He was too damn big, and now that she knew how fast and strong he was, no amount of hunching his shoulders could fool her. Not when she could still feel his mouth on hers and taste the night sliding against her tongue.

She held up the journal, sinking down into the warm comfort of her familiar bed. “Your friend Paul stopped by the library. He left a phone number.” Now you can go rescue him. And stop manhandling me. And maybe I can start to forget what it feels like to be trapped underground with a troll. Or forget what it's like to lay in the dark and listen to screaming.

And just maybe, just maybe I might forget what it's like to have a half-demon hunter kiss me. Although I might not want to forget that. That was, I daresay, the only good thing about this whole damn chain of Twilight Zone events.

The room turned utterly silent. His eyes fastened on the journal. “When?"

"Yesterday, Em said.” She dropped the pen and tore the page out of her journal, dropping the small book next to her on the bed. “You want this?"

He shrugged. Muscle moved under his shirt, she wondered how he'd mended it. “As soon as you're ready, we'll go collect him."

What? “What? I thought you wanted to go get him. He's your partner."

Ryan folded his arms, his jaw setting. He looked dangerous in the weak sunlight, muscle moving under his T-shirt. “You're coming with me. We'll collect Paul and call in, and—"

"Wait a minute. I found you your partner. That means you can keep him and your Order off my back. Right?” And keep them away from my library.

Though how much I want to keep this up, I just might have to re-evaluate. Stinky things in sewers are one thing, but trolls in tunnels under Jericho and demons that feel like I'm in an ice bath are something else. You guys hunt these things, and I just got shown how much of an amateur I am. I need to reconsider this. She stared at him, not liking the way he was looking at her. “Right, Ryan?"

"We have to talk.” He peeled himself away from the door and paced softly across the floor.

No shit we have to talk. Chess struggled to push herself up to sit, pulling her knees up. “Can it wait? I want a shower. And about a gallon of coffee. And some fresh clothes wouldn't hurt either."

"Just a second. There's something I need to explain to you before anything else.” He lowered himself down on the end of her bed, his profile presented with harsh lines, his nose a bit too long, his jaw too strong. But still… she liked the look of him. “I frightened you last night. I'm sorry."

Well, goddamn, he apologized. Miracles do happen. Though you didn't exactly hurt me. You just shoved me up against the wall and kissed me. As a matter of fact, you kissed me so hard I can still feel it in my toes. “You need to stop pushing me around,” she managed. Come to think about it, he hadn't ever hurt her, unless you counted when he'd shoved her out of the way in the alley, throwing her up against the Dumpster. “I don't like it."

"I'm sorry,” he repeated. “Look, I'm Drakulein, I'm part demon. That means I… I have a set of very strong instincts, most of which help to keep me alive.” His eyes were fixed on his upturned palms, held loose and cupped in his lap.

"Protective instincts,” she supplied. Her mouth tasted like morning and her eyes were sandy, and she felt muzzy as she always did after sleeping too long. But hell, she'd needed it.

"We're segregated from women with sorcerous ability because we can… we can become attached. Very attached. The longer we spend with them, the more… cemented the instincts can become. They're triggered by scent, mostly; and if I go off I need your help. If you scream, or struggle, or become afraid, I might drown. There are a couple things you can do—"

Wait just one goddamn cotton-pickin’ second. “Hold on just one second. I don't even know you, I'm not even—"

His fingers twitched. “I'm sorry,” he repeated, cutting her off. “The Golden usually have one or two Drakul bodyguards. It's not as bad as it seems. I'll be careful, I just need you to understand a few things."

She opened her mouth to protest and stopped, a curious thought occurring to her. She'd asked him to help her get rid of Robert. He'd screamed her name in the dark when the awful cold had spilled through her body. And let's not forget the thing he got away from my window. Just tore it—and the fire escape—away. He carried me up here and took care of calling work and the police. And he was here in the dark last night, all bloody and beaten-up. Waiting.

And all she'd been able to think of in the troll-tunnels was, what's happened to Ryan?

It was official. She was about to do something really stupid and girly. Oh, God, I'm going to regret this. “Like what?” Her tone, flat and ironic, surprised even her. I have the worst taste in men. What is it about this guy? I like him, even if I don't understand half of what he talks about. This is so goddamn crazy.

"Like when I ask you to stay still, it's because it helps me stay calm. If you're frightened or hurt, it may make me unmanageable. If you stay calm, move slowly, it will calm me down. If I hold you still, it's because I want to make sure I don't hurt you. It… reassures me."

"Stay calm.” I sound like an idiot. “Calm you down. Reassure you.” What if I'm half out of my mind with fear because I'm being chased by a fucking demon, huh? What about that?

"Just imagine I'm a big wild animal. You don't want to give it a reason to get nervous, do you?” His fingers tightened again, curling into fists. “I'm sorry. Really, I am. I shouldn't have allowed it to happen."

"You're not an animal.” For a moment she wondered why she said it so fiercely; then she realized that it bothered her, the way he seemed to consider himself such a second-class citizen. What he'd told her about this Order pissed her off. And the way this Paul had treated her hadn't impressed her either. “You're not an animal,” she repeated, a little more softly. “You're a human being, dammit. So you have these instincts. Are you saying you're going to… do what? Hurt me? Try to… um, eat me?"

"No.” His eyes squeezed closed, but the tension left his shoulders bit by bit. “It means you have your own Drakul. I have something else to tell you, too."

He looks like he's expecting me to start screaming. Chess reached out, her hand very pale and visibly shaking. She touched his left hand. His back was to the window, and the sun brought out blue highlights in his hair and the shadow of charcoal stubble on his jaw. He was a very nice-looking man, now that she looked at him.

Her fingers touched his knotted fist. She curled her hand around his much larger one, as far as she could, that was. He was pale as she was, but his skin was a different texture. Rougher. If you're part demon do you have the same equipment men have? She bit back a ludicrous giggle. Shut up, Chess. Quit it. Sure, your hormones are all in a stew, he's a nice guy and he smells good, but for God's sake. He's part demon. And you don't know a damn thing about him. “In a minute. First of all, are you going to try to take my books?"

"What?” Now his eyes opened, he turned his head and looked at her as if she'd just made an embarrassing bodily noise. “Of course not. I'm telling you I've thrown away my entire fucking life and tied myself to you. If the Order finds me before I can explain to them you're a potential Golden, they'll put me down like a rabid dog. They can't have Drakul getting territorial, we're the muscle of their war. We start protecting only our homes and families and pretty soon the Inkani will pick us off one by one, and the skins won't be able to play at having their nice safe little world—"

That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard. “Nonsense.” Her fingers tightened, she would have driven her nails into his hand but didn't dare. “That's bullshit. I think you'd fight even harder and find ways to cooperate, especially if the women had anything to say about it. My mom wouldn't stand for any territorial crap, you can be sure of that."

"It doesn't matter if you see it that way. That's the way the Malik see it.” His shoulders slumped.

"And I can't say I'm too impressed with them.” She heard the sarcasm in her own voice, sighed. “All right. So what do you have to tell these guys to make them leave you alone?” And not so incidentally, leave me alone?

"That you're a Golden, Chess. You're damn close to a full Phoenicis already, unless I miss my guess.” He kept his eyes closed. “I should have recognized it, Paul should have recognized it, but we didn't. There hasn't been a potential for five hundred years; Melwyn Halston was the last one to achieve full power. When he broke with the Order he retreated here from Vienna and his squad of Drakul kept the Inkani out for a good half-century—"

Halston? Like the Halston who built my library? “Century? Melwyn Halston was borne in 1826 in London, he moved here in 1851 and—"

"Paper. Paper to mislead people. Melwyn Evrard Halston was the last Phoenicis. When he was finally killed by a Viperi Inkanus he was nine hundred fifty three human years old—"

"You're crazy.” She let go of his hand and pushed the comforter back, struggled free of the sheets. She must have thrashed during the night. “I need a shower and some coffee before I can deal with this. Just… try not to hold anyone up against the wall while I'm in the bathroom, okay?” Chess stalked around the bed, patting at her hair and feeling the tangles in it, wincing each time her fingers found a fresh one. I'll have to douse it in conditioner and spend some time working everything out, dammit. And he's not done yet, he'll probably have some new and stunning news to give me. Perfect. Wonderful. Lovely.

His hand shot out as she paced toward her dresser, closing around her wrist with warm, hard fingers. Chess stopped, looking down at him. His eyes were open, his face shadowed by the sun coming through the window on the other side of the bed. “I'm Drakulein,” he said quietly, but with a harsh edge she'd never heard in his voice. His dark gaze never left her face. “Are you afraid of me now?"

She tugged against his hold, gave up. “Of course not,” she snapped. “You got that thing away from my window, you nursed me through a concussion and dragged me to the weirdest bar I've ever seen in my life, then held me up against the wall and kissed me. Not to mention you got rid of Robert. All in all, if you can stop calling me little nicknames and shoving me around, I think we'll get along just fine.” Her breath caught in her throat as his thumb drifted across the underside of her wrist, a gentle touch, his calluses scraping. “Let go of me."

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes turning even darker. “You treat me like I'm…” He sounded like he had something caught in his throat too. “Like I'm not… tainted."

Oh, God. “You don't have any control over who your parents were,” she managed in a curious husky voice that sounded nothing like her usual brisk self. “And you're… I mean, you're not very polite, but you're on the right side. Aren't you?"

A single brief nod, his chin dipping. He needs a shave. Why the hell am I thinking of that?

"From now on, it's your side I'm on. Trust me.” He looked absolutely serious. “Please?"

His fingers loosened, and Chess pulled away. “We're partners, remember? I'll get ready and down some coffee, and then we'll go collect your dude. You're probably wanting to bring him back here, right?"

"Maybe. Depends on what shape he's in when we find him.” There was no levity in his tone.

"You know, you have a really comforting way of putting these things.” It's the funniest thing. I don't sound amused either. She took a deep breath. Okay, first things first. Shower. And coffee.