A Demon's Duty (The Demon Guardian Trilogy Book 1) Page 10

  Then, the gods— if they truly existed and cared even slightly for demons, which he personally doubted— had decided to spoil him with choice, now Belit appeared and offered an enjoyable personal companionship while she completed her project. Michael had to admit both the woman’s attractions and the details of the project itself appealed to him. She also offered the whole of the Demon Realm, since otherwise he could never return. Not simply a return, even, it was the chance to return to his clan, not just to be tolerated, but to be embraced and celebrated!

  A return to a place he understood, even if he didn’t quite fit into the mold they would cast him in. He could pick up the pieces of his old life and once again spend his time researching as he pleased without having to concern himself with trying to understand what was expected of him. He likely understood humanity better than any other of his kind by now, but he still had to put considerable conscious thought into how he should behave or react in public.

  Of course, if James’ Mark — no, it was his own Mark, Michael chided himself. If his Mark reacts so strongly to simple interactions with another High Demon— as the Temple had dubbed his kind— how would it react to a return to the demon realm? It was possible that the Mark would need to be removed or it would sear straight through him, leaving him crippled or dead. Was it even possible to remove? Lee had implied otherwise, but that really only related to Lee’s own experience and understanding of them.

  He frowned at himself, at how much it turned out that he didn’t know, the glass reflecting back a far more expressive face than it had been a century ago. May would no doubt be shocked by that fact. She once told him after an encounter several years back that she had seen more emotion shown by stone hillsides than by his face. He spent years training himself to show at least some emotions more freely, as humans expected, instead of hiding them behind a mask as was far safer around other demons, but was still far from anything close to normal for human society. Michael realized that he was actually grateful that his Temple colleagues knew his origins. They allowed him the space to react naturally rather than continue his act of fitting in.

  Perhaps that was what Belit had meant about him being different somehow, that his reactions were now closer to human expectations. He actually almost laughed out loud as he looked back into his own eyes. No, that hadn’t been what she’d meant. There was no reason at all for her to guess what it was she’d sensed about him. It wasn’t even simply the Mark and the power and promises it represented that were different. The change had started long ago. He wasn’t even sure that he could express what it was, but he knew it. Deep in what counts for his demon’s soul, he knew. And so had James, somehow, as he’d lay dying. He’d known, and had dubbed Michael ‘Brother.’ Now Michael just had to figure out what that meant for his future.

  He traced the mark again with his finger before he resumed his human form and pulled his shirt closed again. He heard an echo of James’ voice as the cloth covered over the design, hiding it from view, once again making him the offer that would permanently brand him as… what exactly? A traitor to his own people? A warrior for the Temple? Something else entirely? He felt strangely hollow, trying to define an answer. He shook his head again, knowing that nothing could be settled by hiding alone in his sanctum. He was just turning back to retrieve the book when his cell phone rang out.

  “Yes?” He answered.

  “It’s Paula. We haven’t found anything terribly helpful here, but May seemed to be memorizing the whole of Sebring’s Spells For War and then disappeared while I was returning a pile of histories. She told Lee that she was going to the bathroom and never came back.” Michael heard Lee in the background groaning that he couldn’t believe he’d fallen for that one.

  “I see. Any thought as to where she was headed?” Michael returned to the wardrobe and opened a drawer. He strapped on a belt and pulled a long coat off a hanger. A musty smell came with them, as did the tingle of power. They were far from inconspicuous, but they would have to do, and he hoped that in the darkness he could manage.

  “It’s just a guess, but maybe to the warehouse you said you’d found this morning? She seems really determined not to let those creatures have the chance to kill anyone else. I hope you’ve had more luck than we have. Did you find out anything?” She asked. She sounded older than she had this morning. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at the book again before closing it and tucking it under his arm.

  “Yes. The woman breeding these things is named Belit. She is one of my cousins.”

  “Michael…”. Paula sounded nervous. Michael frowned in reaction. “I think she wants revenge. I’m worried that she’s going to do something foolish.”

  “I understand. I will find her.”

  He threw the alchemically armored coat over his shoulders and locked the door behind him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Michael entered the warehouse again, his eyes picking out every detail even in the pitch black interior. He stretched out again, searching for any human presence, and May specifically— he’d discovered very quickly after receiving the Mark that he could distinguish her now from other humans, almost without thought. Had she already been here and gone again? Looking around, he tried to find any signs that she had been there and gone away again. The idea of failure in general was unpleasant, but the idea of failing at this task before he really started…

  That imp was still here, perhaps he had seen her? He was about to call out to it when May stepped into his field of awareness. She was approaching the building from the other side, moving slowly. Probably trying to stay hidden, but from what Michael couldn’t guess. He started moving towards the back of the warehouse when a soft step beside him revealed the imp as well, scurrying quickly to intercept him. Michael looked down at the creature and raised an eyebrow in question.

  “A priestess is outside, sir, I saw her! We should hide, she will attack us.” Michael almost smiled at the concern in the imp’s voice. He knew that imps usually didn’t go out of their way to help their more powerful cousins without incentive, but then he had always managed to get on their good sides. Imps were quite useful, really, and treating them with simple good manners cost nothing and went far.

  “Thank you for the warning. I doubt it will come to a battle, but you may hide if you like. This woman and I know each other, and I will keep her attention if you should wish to flee.” Michael answered. The creature lost no time in vanishing behind an empty metal shipping container. It had a long scratch near one end, about waist high, ending in a significant dent. Clearly one of the pack’s first victims.

  May was nearing the back door and Michael moved towards it from the inside. What did she think she was doing, he wondered. If she wanted to explore the warehouse, there was no reason he could sense for her to skulk about outside like this. He flipped open the deadbolt and swung open the door.

  “May, I am sure that you know I’m here. If you want to come in and search, then come do so, there is nothing here that will harm you, I promise.” He called from the top of the steps. She stood slowly, appearing from the scrubby bushes that lined the fence along what was likely meant to be the employee entrance. He watched her pick her way carefully towards him through the shrubbery. “I don’t wish to criticize, but the loading dock doors are on the other side, and one is rolled wide open. It would have been much easier for you to enter that way. Especially since this door was locked. Why were you sneaking through the shrubbery?”

  “I thought this door would be less obvious if there was anyone here and I was trying to stay out of sight in case someone was watching.” She said, pouting slightly. She stepped onto the asphalt, and made her way up the stairs, and through the door Michael held open for her. “And I did know you were here, somehow, but I didn’t know it was only you. Maybe there was someone else here? How was I supposed to know?”

  “I see. I forgot that Priestesses can detect demonic presences but not human ones. And you have never had much call for skulking around like th
is, have you? Perhaps you should practice. I should warn you that there is an imp still living here.” He caught her elbow as she stumbled in the dark. “He’s been rather helpful, so I would appreciate if you could ignore his presence. Also, we could turn the lights on. I know that your night vision is not as good as mine.”

  “I brought a flashlight.” She flicked it on and let the circle of light bounce around randomly off walls and empty crates. “Why didn’t you come meet up with us after you found this place?”

  “I didn’t know if this warehouse was being watched. It was, as it turned out, so I made a couple of stops. And I must be honest with you at least. I felt the need to think about the current situation. What are you looking for, May? I’m sure Paula told you what I said. There is nothing left here.” He walked behind her as she drifted around the space.

  “I had to see for myself. The things that killed my family came from here." Her light had revealed a steel staircase leading up to an office and some catwalks. “Did you go upstairs?”

  “No. The imp gave me the information I needed, so I didn’t stay to search further.”

  “Then let’s go.” She started up the stairs, the metallic footsteps echoing through the open space. “What’s with that coat, by the way? It seems a bit, um, smelly. And old. You have never struck me as the sort to dress up like a cowboy” Michael raised an eyebrow. He admitted that the long, black garment was cut from a fashion that had long gone out of style, but he hadn’t thought it was so odd. He had worn it mostly to hide the other more conspicuous item he’d brought and had strapped to his belt underneath the flapping coat.

  “It is an old garment. I haven’t worn it for some time, not having felt the need for protection in a fight for some time. I thought that if we faced more of those beasts it would come in useful.” He answered. “It is a similar spell to the one Lee wears, simply older, and not likely one the Temple is familiar with.”

  “Lee’s jacket doesn’t look like it’s been in a trash heap since the middle ages.” May rattled the doorknob to the office. “Dammit. Locked” She banged her fist on the door, then tried to peer in the glass windows that wrapped around the small room. She sighed in frustration.

  “I don’t suppose you know some sort of useful demonic lock-picking spell, do you?” She asked, still pressing her face to the glass. Michael reached around her and twisted the knob hard. He felt the stem inside snap and pulled the knob off, and after another moment the door swung open. May looked at him, eyes guarded and surprised.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I…” May frowned and looked at the knob still in his hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you do anything, well, demonic I guess.” May turned slowly back to the office and stepped through the door. He found the light switch and turned it on, glancing around at the mess. There were papers scattered all over the office, many with sloppy alchemical formula and wildly inaccurate notes on magic rituals. Belit’s human servant, he imagined. Michael watched her poke through empty fast food cups and scrunched up food wrappers, pencil stubs and other refuse on the desk before she started opening the drawers.

  “What do you hope to find in here?”

  “Some clue as to who’s behind this. There has to be something here, an address or a name. Something!” May was randomly picking up the papers off the floor and glancing at each before stacking it in a pile beside her.

  “Belit.”

  “What?”

  “The demoness who is breeding the hounds is named Belit. I told you I was followed when I left here.” He drew the old book out from a huge pocket in the coat and brushed the trash aside to make room. Tilting the shade to shine directly on the red ink that flowed across the page, he paused for a moment.

  “I had a dim memory of her and confirmed it before Paula called me. Can you read demonic script?” He asked.

  “I don’t think anyone can, definitely nobody I know anyway.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, no humans I know, then. What is that? Where did you get it?” She asked, peering over his shoulder.

  “I have had it for some time and have kept it in my workshop. It is a clan history. This is what I wished to retrieve before I came back to the apartment. It is one of the few things I brought with me when I fled. I brought some books and some tools, and very little else besides the clothes I wore. This book tells the history of the clan I was born into, and is a record of the family relationships within the clan. At least up to the time I was exiled.”

  “Oh.” May’s voice wavered. Michael wondered if, for a moment, she had forgotten that he had history beyond her own interactions with him. He flipped the pages till he came to the section he wanted.

  “Look.” He ran his finger along a line of script. “Here is the entry that records my birth. This here is the name I was given, and my lineage.”

  “What does it say?” She frowned.

  “It says ‘Gibil, born of An, the middle consort of Alasor chief general and great warlord of the clan at the time of writing.’” He ran his finger along the text as he read it to her, though he translated it as he spoke, rather than reading the language as written.

  “Your name is Gibil?” May tilted her head.

  “That is what I was called at my birth, yes. It is an old family name. I understand humans often do the same thing.”

  May nodded slowly and perched on the edge of the desk. Michael wondered what she was thinking so hard about— it should be no surprise to her that he had assumed a human name in his exile. She was quiet, however, chewing her lip and frowning at the page.

  “Is something wrong?” Michael asked, following her.

  “I’ve been doing a fair amount of thinking myself. I mean, this whole time I’ve known you—it’s been what, ten years now?”

  “At least.” He answered slowly.

  “I’ve never really thought of you as a High Demon. I mean I’ve known what you are, but I’ve never been especially uncomfortable around you. When you broke the doorknob, seeing you use your strength like that…” May frowned, staring at the open book. Michael wondered if she actually saw it.

  “That made you uncomfortable? I was not born a human. I can’t change that.” He said.

  “No.” She paused and looked up at him, her forehead wrinkling. “I just need to decide if I can deal with all this. Most Priestesses choose to retire rather than replace a Guardian that dies. I didn’t get that choice, I got you. And I still can’t get my head around James and Pike being dead. I keep starting to ask James a question, or to tell Pike this terrible pun I just thought of, but I can’t do that anymore. Worse, it’s like there’s this space in my mind where I could just feel them, all the time, for so long. And now there’s nothing there in that space really, but there’s an echo of James. And it’s coming from you.”

  “I’m sorry. I-”

  “Let me finish, please. I realized that I trust you, which is weird as hell, but I guess I sort of always have. Which is weirder. But I can’t manage to reconcile that with what you did.” May frowned again, running her finger over the text Michael had just read. She seemed to be struggling with something in her mind. Michael watched, quietly. He knew somehow that pushing her to speak would be counterproductive. May had to resolve this herself.

  “Why did you take James’ mark? Why didn’t you save him instead?” She finally asked, slowly. Michael looked into her face and saw that she was afraid of his answer, but perhaps more afraid of not knowing.

  “I could not save him. I have no more power over life and death than you yourself do. I am not a healer, and even if I were there was nothing to be done.” He heard himself speaking. “James knew that he was dying and was prepared to face it. His only concern when he spoke to me was that you were not left alone.” May was crying again, not the wild sobs that he knew she had shed before but silently now, the tears sliding down her cheeks as she stared into his eyes.

  “So you offered to stay with me?”

 
“No.” Michael shook his head. “James suggested that I should. He knew somehow that while his gift could not be taken from him, it might be possible for him to give it away of his own free choice. He convinced me to allow him to try before his soul’s next journey started, as a Guardian’s bond goes soul deep. James offered me something very precious and once he asked, I realized that I could not refuse. That is why.” It was the simple truth. Michael could not answer it any more to himself than he had to her. She turned away from him and stared out into the darkness of the warehouse. Michael made certain that only the imp still hid in the shadows, and then turned the lights off.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “You didn’t just get that book out to show me your birth certificate, did you?” May finally turned back to him, making no effort to dry her face. She had spent a long time staring into the shadows of the warehouse and Michael had left her to her thoughts. He still didn’t understand why she was clinging to such pain, but Paula had assured him that it was well within the limits of normal human behavior. He supposed it was likely related to the fact that humans developed stronger attachments to each other than was encouraged in demon culture. The few fiction books he’d read certainly seemed to indicate it, and assumed that the reader understood these things. He preferred non-fiction.