Demonsense: Demon Master Part 24

They walked into the room together. It was as they'd been warned. Kevin looked awful. His skin tone was close to grey, there was a ventilator tube down his throat, and his chest was rising and falling with the hissing sound of the machinery. His face looked vulnerable without his gla.s.ses, and he looked older as well. Lines on his face Bree usually didn't notice were visible. All this somehow added up to him looking extraordinarily ill.

She hated to think what he must have looked like before Sophie and Dion pumped some healing energy into him. The thought terrified her. As much as she feared him dying, until this moment, she hadn't allowed herself to imagine it could really happen. She tore her gaze away from Kevin and looked at Daniel. As much as she loved Kevin, she was sure Daniel loved him more. His face showed the strain of his attempt to keep calm.

She reached out and clasped his hand with hers. His return grip was tight almost to the point of pain, but Bree didn't complain or pull away. If this was all she could do to support him, this was what she'd do. And a tiny, guilty part of her was relieved to see some emotion in Daniel, any emotion.

After a moment, he let go of her hand. He pulled up a chair close to the bedside so he could easily hold Kevin's hand. He looked up at Bree gravely. "I'd like you to keep at least a mid level read on me while I do the healing. I should be fine, but my concern is that if I drain my energies too far, I might in some way lose control of the restraining structure I've put in place. I don't want to get down lower than about thirty percent of normal. When I get that far, I want you to stop me if I haven't already stopped myself. And Bree, no matter how anxious you get, no matter how much you think he might be able to help, please don't call Gelsenim, not unless I blow apart again. I haven't tested the restraints with demon contact yet."

"No worries, it hadn't occurred to me to ask for his help," Bree told him truthfully. She just didn't a.s.sociate demon kind with healing ability. Maybe Gelsenim could boost a Healer's power if he possessed the Healer, but obviously, in this case, she wasn't going to suggest it.

Daniel nodded at her in acknowledgement, and turned back to Kevin and closed his eyes, preparing to do the Healing. Bree moved behind Daniel and worked her hand under his s.h.i.+rt and sweater to make physical contact with his shoulder. His skin was warm. She reached out to lightly attune with him, enough to monitor energy levels. In spite of her exhaustion, her Reader sense came to her command, although it was creaky and slow.

At first, Daniel seemed merely at rest, probably gathering himself for the working, maybe running through whatever meditation helped him renew his structure of restraints. After about three or four minutes of that, she began to feel a sort of warmth rising in him. It wasn't physical warmth, more an energetic warmth. She felt it flowing up from somewhere inside him like sap rising in a tree. She perceived it as a golden-green color, like a combination of sunlight and the green of growing things. She'd gotten a taste of it before, when he'd done Healing on her, but this seemed stronger, much stronger. The energy welled up until it started to flow out of him, into Kevin. It seemed to move at a steady pace, and she spared a moment to admire Daniel's control. The only talents where she had that level of skill were her Reader and Exorcist talents. If only she could control her Casting to that degree. She was enjoying the warm sensation of the healing until a thread of anxiety entered noticeably into Daniel's energy. Lips compressed in effort, Bree honed in the sensation. Daniel was worried about how the healing was going.

She had to fight back her own spike of fear in response. Daniel might be able to sense it from her, given the level at which they were attuned, and she didn't want to interfere with his concentration. It took more effort than it should have for her to get herself back into control. She made a mental note to eat as soon as this was over, as her remaining reserves were draining right along with Daniel's. She carefully evaluated his base and will energy and decided he was close to the thirty percent mark. She gave him another few minutes, then shook his shoulder. "Daniel," she said quietly, "it's time to stop."

"I'm almost there," her replied with obvious effort. "Just a few more minutes."

Bree clenched her teeth in worried frustration, but she did as he told her. She felt his energy go down further, down to about twenty five percent, then lower still. She shook him harder. "Daniel, that's enough."

He didn't answer, and she opened her eyes and moved around to where she could see his face. She reached out a hand and lightly slapped him on the cheek. "C'mon, Daniel, stop."

He was sweating, brow furrowed in effort, but still his eyes stayed closed. She reached down and tried to pull his hand away from Kevin's, but he wouldn't let go. "Okay, here goes," she muttered, and she slapped him again, hard this time.

His eyes flew open, then rolled back as he started to topple out of the chair. "Oh s.h.i.+t!" Bree exclaimed as she reached out to catch him. She settled him back into the chair, but he started to slide down out of it, clearly in a dead faint. Bree pressed her knees against his to keep him in the chair, putting her hands against his shoulders. "Daniel," she said tensely, "wake up!"

His head lolled forward. She tried shaking him a little, making his head bob up and down, but he didn't come out of it. He hadn't drained himself to a life threatening degree, she knew, but obviously, it had been enough to put him out. She got most of her hand on his neck, needing the physical contact to throw a read into him as tired as she was. He hadn't seriously hurt himself, and she could feel the shape of the restraining structure still in place.

She gasped with effort as she pulled out of the read. She'd wanted to go deeper, get a sense of whether the restraints had gotten weaker, but she was dead out of energy. And she realized she was probably going to need help getting him out of the chair and back into the waiting room. She tried looking over her shoulder to get a glimpse of Kevin. She wanted to see if he looked any better, but she couldn't get a good angle of view. She was tiring quickly, and had just about girded herself to call for help when the nurse from earlier stepped into the room. She stopped halfway in, hands on hips, and said with exasperation, "You have got to be kidding me. Another one?"

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, he's not usually like this. But it's his oldest friend," Bree replied lamely.

"I'll go get one of your friends," the nurse replied, turning to leave.

"Get the big one, the one with the beard," Bree requested as the nurse left the room. Her arms and legs were trembling with the effort of propping Daniel upright by the time Bruce got there.

"Well, this is a fine kettle of fish," he said with a laugh as he walked in. "We're going to go down in hospital history as the wimpiest group ever to visit a patient." He quickly took over from Bree, got Daniel's arm around his shoulder, and heaved him up out of the chair. "He's heavier than he looks," Bruce grunted.

Bree got around to Daniel's other side, although she thought she could probably use someone to help her out of the room as well. But she held up her end all the way to the waiting area. Fortunately, Daniel came around just enough to try to walk, but he pa.s.sed out again once they laid him on the floor, Sophie and Dion having already taken the only rows of chairs that could accommodate someone lying down.

Bree collapsed into a chair just as Steve returned bearing a sack of goodies. He started handing out cups of yogurt, spoons, and m.u.f.fins. He knew enough about powered to get quadruple what would have seemed normal. Bruce roused Sophie and got her to eat some yogurt. Neither Dion nor Daniel could be woken.

"How's Kevin?" Steve enquired once he was finished. "Did it work?" The hope in his voice was painful to hear.

"I don't know for sure. Daniel pa.s.sed out before he could tell me. But he put everything he had into it, Steve. He went beyond what was really safe. It has to have helped."

"I'll be in his room," Steve said shortly, then turned back around and said, "Thank you, all of you," tears welling in his eyes, and left.

Bree inhaled the first yogurt, and was actually able to taste the second one. She downed a bottle of water in record time as well, then started on her first m.u.f.fin before being able to spare much attention for the others.

Dion looked peaceful. Bruce must have helped him to lie down. He still had on his white uniform s.h.i.+rt and dark work pants, so he'd obviously come straight from a s.h.i.+ft. His head was on the chair near her, and she ran a fond hand over his short, springy black hair. She leaned down and whispered, "You're my hero."

When he didn't respond, not even to smile, she knew he was truly out. If he were awake at all, he would never let that pa.s.s without comment, or ever let her forget she'd said it. She got up and went to sit next to Sophie, having to step around Daniel as she went. He looked dead to the world as well.

Sophie's cheek was red where it had been pressed against her hand as she slept. Her eyes were puffy with fatigue and remnants of tears. Her hair had been tamed into two braids, and they were fuzzy with escaping tendrils. Bree put an arm around Sophie's shoulders and hugged her. They touched their heads together and sat like that for a moment, just soaking up the comfort of each other's presence. Bree gave her a final squeeze and let go.

"So you fainted, huh?" she said, teasing.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Whatever you do, don't tell the nurse I'm a midwife. My reputation will be ruined."

"How is he, Soph? Did they take good care of him?"

"As far as I can tell, they did a good job. But it really is touch and go. It's a good thing you called all the Healers in."

"I just wish I knew more of them," Bree sighed.

"Well, it's not a common talent, especially at the high power level," Sophie replied. "I may have taken the edge off, but I don't think I was able to do much, and if Dion was using his talent already tonight, he might not have been able to do much more. My real hope rests with what Daniel was able to accomplish."

"I wish I knew how well it worked. He seemed worried there, at the end, and I had to force him to stop."

"Well, it rests with the Lady now," Sophie replied tiredly. "Prayer would not be amiss, you know. There are double blind studies that show it has a positive effect on patient outcome."

"Well, I'll pray as long as I can stay awake," Bree responded, a yawn interrupting her words midway through.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"A bit of dozing is all."

"Bruce got the most sleep of us all. Would you try to stay awake for awhile honey, let Bree and I get some shut eye after we pray?"

"If either of you can find a place to lie down," Bruce said doubtfully.

"I think I could sleep anywhere at this point," Bree a.s.sured him. All three of them spent some time in prayer, each in their own way, before first Sophie, then Bree, lay down to try to get a little sleep.

Bree settled down on the floor next to Daniel, making sure one of her hands was touching his so she'd wake if he stirred. She wanted to read him again once he was conscious, and she desperately wanted to hear his a.s.sessment of Kevin's condition, but she knew there was nothing further any of them could do for now, and she should let him rest while he could. She drifted off to sleep faster than she would have thought possible, in spite of the increasing activity in the waiting room as more normal visiting hours commenced.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Leander was both annoyed and a little anxious when his doorbell chimed. He was in the middle of a good book, and he figured the only people who actually knew where he lived were Scanlon and his lackeys and Marton. He supposed it could be Bree, but he doubted it. He'd waited for her to call him, initially certain it wouldn't be long. There had been some definite chemistry between them at their last encounter. He knew she'd been feeling ambivalent about that, but in his experience, women weren't able to resist him for long, at least not at this stage of the game. It wasn't something he felt particularly proud of, it was just a fact. But as time went on with no word from Bree, he'd begun to worry. He was on a timeline, and an unreasonable one at that. He'd finally called her, even though he was fairly certain it was the wrong move. She hadn't answered and hadn't yet responded to his message that he hoped she was well and would like to get together. As he walked over to his intercom, he considered what Marton's reaction was likely to be to his lack of progress. It could be that he was about to find out. "Yes?" he enquired, pressing the send b.u.t.ton on the intercom.

"It's Marton." Leander replied by buzzing him in. He was less than pleased when he opened his front door to find Marton accompanied by Franchesca. Her face was red and swollen on one side, and it looked like a black eye might be starting up.

After a brief greeting, Leander led the way into his living room. He didn't offer them anything to drink, his token protest at being disturbed. He took their coats, and Marton settled down on the couch and crossed his legs, putting an arm on the couch's back, behind Franchesca. Franchesca placed a possessive hand on Marton's thigh. "We've just come from an action," Marton informed him. "It went quite well. There was a protest downtown, and we were able to call enough demons to send the whole thing into a riot. I think this one will be the most high profile yet."

"Congratulations," Leander said with an obvious lack of sincerity, settling down into a white chair across from Marton.

Marton's handsome, severe face broke into a smile at that. Leander knew his cheekiness amused Marton, at least up to a point. "You really should try to become more of a big picture thinker," Marton chided.

Leander lounged back in his chair. "Why should I?"

"Because your fortunes rise and fall along with mine," Marton told him.

His manner was still humorous on the surface, but Leander read something else underneath. It read like displeasure. In spite of himself, Leander tensed up at that. "Of that I am well aware," he answered. "Still, you know I don't have your talent for strategy. I'm better at tactics."

"I think you're perfectly capable of strategy. You just won't be bothered."

"Why, do you need me to be bothered right now?" Leander knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth. Marton's expression sharpened, reminding Leander of an eagle that has sighted prey. "Yes, I need you to be bothered right now," Marton replied intently. "You haven't reported in on your progress on the Thorvaldson issue. I have to a.s.sume that's because you haven't made any. I believe I've made clear how your a.s.signment fits into the overall plan. I can only a.s.sume the bigger picture doesn't interest you if you've made this little effort."

Leander was stung by Marton's words. "Hey, I'm good, but I can't work magic, Marton. This kind of a.s.signment usually takes a couple of months to bring to fruition. I've only been at it a couple of weeks. If this was so d.a.m.ned important, why didn't you set it up sooner?"

Marton's eyes narrowed, and Franchesca's face lit with avid interest. Leander knew she didn't care for him, just as he didn't care for her. She was the jealous type, and didn't like the fact that Marton tended to give him special treatment.

"I had other work for you, as you may recall," Marton said coldly. "Leander, I know you. You're lazy. Yes, you get the job done, but this time, I need you to work faster, to work harder."

"Look, Bree has gotten all emotional," Leander defended himself. "I've definitely secured her interest, but apparently, she's still caught up in Thorvaldson. She as much as told me she still has a major thing for him and doesn't feel right being with me with that unresolved. If I push too hard right now, it will scare her off completely, and all the progress I've made will be lost. She's definitely my best road in to Thorvaldson. I'm just trying not to blow it here."

"Daniel cares for her, but if he truly wanted her, he would have acted by now," Franchesca put in. "He's known her for months, plenty of time to decide if they're going to be together. She was never good enough for him."

"I think she's more high power than you know," Leander returned.

Franchesca's lips tightened in anger. "I've read her. I've seen her under threat of her life. When she's not possessed, she's not even close to my equal."

"I just think she has different talents than you do. For one thing, it appears she can be possessed without ill effect of any kind."

Marton leaned forward at that. "You didn't say anything about this before," he accused.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of Scanlon. I didn't think that was any part of the job I'm doing for him. He just wants to know about the circ.u.mstances of his son's death. I wanted to save this bit of information for you."

There was some truth to that, but what Leander wasn't telling Marton was that he hadn't been sure he wanted Marton to know. As far as he knew, Marton was the only other Demon Master who shared that ability. He seemed unusually impervious to Demon Master instability as well. Leander wouldn't say he was completely immune, but he'd seen Marton during and after possession, and there was no doubt he had some kind of affinity for the particular demon he tended to call. He'd had a feeling Marton wouldn't like someone else to have that talent. He might feel threatened by it.

He realized that, in a way, he'd been trying to protect Bree. But there was no doubt saving his own a.s.s was more important. He needed Marton to stay happy with him at all costs.

Marton leaned back again. "I see your point," he conceded. "It is perhaps best that we keep that information to our clan." Marton glanced over at Franchesca, apparently looking to see how she was taking the news. She looked stormy. Marton sighed and took Franchesca's hand. "We mustn't let our egos get involved, Franchesca. We share the trait of wanting to be the best. But we still need Bree to get to Daniel. You were wrong to try to kill her."

Marton's voice was soft, as was his caress of Franchesca's hand, yet Leander's skin crawled as he spoke. He knew that tone. Marton was building up to a rage. Leander saw a succession of expressions cross Franchesca's face. He could read from her tells that she planned on lying to Marton. "I was aiming for Kevin Whitman, not Bree. And I got him, too. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d hit me."

"Don't lie to me," Marton said, voice almost a whisper, green eyes narrowed. Leander saw his hand tighten on Franchesca's. "You were aiming for Bree. I read it in your face."

"I hate her!" Franchesca burst out pa.s.sionately. "She and her demon nearly killed me before. And she interfered with us tonight, you know she did!"

Leander's stomach muscles tightened with tension as Marton teetered on the edge of what could be a truly spectacular outburst. He knew Marton beat on Franchesca at times, knew it was part of the twisted attraction between them. The woman really seemed to ask for it, seemed to want it, even though he knew she fought back. Leander knew he wasn't a good person, but at least he wasn't into that kind of sick dynamic.

Thankfully, Marton didn't go there. The anger on his face s.h.i.+fted toward reluctant amus.e.m.e.nt. "My little h.e.l.lcat," he said, shaking Franchesca's hand. "What am I to do with you? Do you require a leash? Must I keep that close a control of you? Can't I trust you in such a simple a.s.signment?"

Franchesca writhed closer to Marton, twining an ankle with his and leaning forward to whisper into his ear. Unfortunately, she wasn't so quiet that Leander could avoid hearing her say, "I might enjoy a leash."

Leander had to fight not to grimace in disgust. Really, did he have to be subjected to this? It wasn't that he was averse to a little bondage. But there was something else, something worse in Franchesca's tone and in Marton's response to it. Marton released her hand and put his own on the leg that was draped over his. Leander saw him squeeze Franchesca's leg hard enough to make her gasp, likely hard enough to bruise.

"Jesus Christ, get a room, would you?" Leander exclaimed.

Marton shot him an amused look. "How you manage to be such a prude with your history amazes me."

It was a low blow, and meant as one. Marton was well aware of the prost.i.tution Leander had engaged in as a street kid. It wasn't like Leander had enjoyed it. But he smothered his reaction to Marton's words. It wouldn't do for Marton to think he'd got to him too much. "If we could get back to the subject that actually involves me, I'd appreciate it," he countered.

Marton released Franchesca's leg and considered Leander. "I usually let you work jobs your way, but this time is different. I know it's a risk to pursue Bree more forcefully, but if we don't get the information on Thorvaldson's hiding spell soon, it will decrease our chances of success. There are people we need to put into place now in order to get the political payoff later. These things take time to set up. Now is when potential candidates are looking at staffing if they win. They're getting more serious about a.s.sembling their teams. You know the Ecclesias has their own people in place, screening everyone to whom they can get access."

Leander had to admit that he hadn't given that much thought to why Marton was in such a hurry. He probably was guilty of not caring about the master plan, but Marton was right in reminding him that he did care about Marton's place in the world.

The other Keltoi in the L.A. clan didn't like Leander. He didn't really mind except for the fact that he'd be out of a cushy, interesting and lucrative career if Marton were ever deposed. Not that he thought that was too likely.

But still, he tried to bend his mind to the problem at hand, as Marton was asking him to do. He considered his options, and Marton kept quiet as he did so. He went through ideas, possible roles, like flipping through a rolodex. Should he play the smitten lover, nervous and fearful of rejection? Or would a little more distance draw her in, make her feel safer? On the other hand, she seemed to respond to displays of vulnerability. What about the concerned friend, worried he hadn't heard from her? He finally decided on the later, with a tiny peppering of nervous potential lover. And, once he bent his mind to it, he realized that his best move would be to show up at her door at a time she was likely to be home. It might freak her out, make her feel pursued in a way that shut her down. On the other hand, their chemistry might kick in once she saw him. He could already picture what he would say, how he would play it.

Finally, he nodded. "Okay, I can see a way to push things along a little," he admitted. "It's definitely a risk, and if I had more time, it would be smarter to make this kind of move later on. But I hear you on the timeline issue. I'll go see Bree tomorrow. If it doesn't scare her off, if she responds how I want her to, my guess is I can get some good information out of her then, and probably get everything we need in another meeting or two."

"You mean if you get her into bed," Marton said wryly.

Leander smiled in return. "Precisely. You know, sometimes I love my job." That one was a jab at Franchesca. He was a little disappointed he didn't get more of a rise out of her. She seemed focused on Marton now. Probably wise on her part.

"I did want to let you know about another development. As Bree was present tonight, she'll likely tell you about it. We had some manifestation of untethered demon forms. There were some high level demons visible to all and sundry."

Leander found to his surprise that he was shocked at the news. Not much shocked him anymore, but this did. He was glad Marton had told him so he could control his response if Bree mentioned it. "How did people react?"

"Total panic," Marton replied, looking speculative. "It was an accident, of course. So many demons were called that the Demon Masters present couldn't control all of them. People were killed. And while I would never have chosen for it to happen, I have to admit I'm interested to see how this plays in the press. I'm sure they'll be cries of hoaxes and ma.s.s hallucination, but it occurs to me there could be benefit in creating more in the way of religious or superst.i.tious tension in the population."

"How do you think the other clans will respond to this?"

Marton shrugged, and his mouth twitched into a grim smile. "They won't like it, of course. There will be complaints. But I think my position is strong enough to withstand the uproar. And besides, you know there's always been that faction in the Keltoi that thinks we should openly display our power. It should please them."

Leander was definitely not a part of that faction. His whole existence was dependent on the need for stealth, on the secret structure of powered society. And he couldn't help the stir of dread at the idea of how the average person would react to knowledge of powered. He was one of those who firmly believed people would be so frightened they would persecute powered right out of existence. Sure, powered had means to fight back, but there were far more normals than powered, and they had the armies. Better to stay on the fringes of society, milking the normals of their cash. "Well, I'm sure you know how to play it," Leander responded.

Marton reached out and squeezed Franchesca's leg again, this time in a signal to leave. "I think we're done here. Do call and let me know how it goes with Bree tomorrow. I want more regular updates moving forward."

Leander nodded agreement, and got up to see Marton and Franchesca to the door. "Enjoy your little date tomorrow," Franchesca said in parting, her sarcastic tone clearly communicating how unlikely she thought that prospect.

"Oh, I will," Leander answered back with a brilliant smile. He closed the door on the pair with a relieved sigh. Man, was he earning his money tonight. Dealing with two basically criminally insane people was no picnic.

He was fond of Marton, owed him everything, but had no illusions about the man. He was wildly dangerous, and while not demon burned like Franchesca, in most cases, he lacked a true conscience. Leander knew he shared this trait, but he was insightful enough to know that about himself. He didn't think Marton was.

As he moved into his kitchen to scrounge his cupboards for a snack, he reflected that Marton saw himself as a visionary leader, and a smart political animal. He felt justified in his actions, thought he was serving a higher purpose for the benefit of his clan and the Keltoi in general. But in the end, all his maneuverings were really about benefitting himself, as was basically true for all people. Marton was just more ruthless than most in pursuing his agenda.

As Leander leaned against the cold edge of his granite kitchen counter, munching on a bag of pita chips, he told himself none of that mattered. He would focus on his a.s.signment, and as he'd told Franchesca, it was one he was truly enjoying. There had turned out to be more challenge, more complications than he'd antic.i.p.ated. While part of him was annoyed at being pushed by Marton, it raised the stakes, which made things more interesting.

And he wasn't unmoved by the idea that, if he was successful, he'd be curled up in bed with Bree Jenkins by this time tomorrow night, hopefully after a mutually satisfying s.e.xual romp, complete with revealing pillow talk. He had a feeling that Bree would be pa.s.sionate in bed, once her feelings were engaged. And he imagined he might be able to show her a thing or two she hadn't encountered before. He wondered if the intimacy of s.e.x might enhance her reader attunement. He still thought she might be enough of a high power Reader to read him at least a little, given the right circ.u.mstances. It added to the risk in an enticing way. Now that he was fully engaged again in the chase, he was definitely looking forward to tomorrow.