A Demon's Duty (The Demon Guardian Trilogy Book 1) Page 2

  She had plans to make.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Michael moved easily around the small kitchen, making coffee and preparing a tray of food. It had been a difficult twenty-four hours for him— caring for someone else at all was outside his experience. Caring for a human in shock and grieving like this was something he honestly hoped to avoid in the future. May had let him handle the hospital personnel who bandaged her arm and cleaned the cuts and abrasions she’d sustained in the fight. Fortunately she managed to avoid any broken bones, but had sprained her wrist badly enough to warrant further care in a few days. He worked with the doctor to schedule everything she needed, assuming that if there were any problems with the arrangements she could tell him when she’d had some rest.

  When they’d left the hospital yesterday afternoon, May had wanted to go back to the apartment she’d shared with James and Pike, but when they got there she simply sat down on the sofa and sobbed until she made herself ill. Michael felt uncomfortable in the cheerfully cluttered home, as if he was intruding on an intimate moment. He somehow convinced May to pack a bag and return with him to his own home for at least a few days while she recovered from her injuries and the energy used in her defensive and cleansing spells. Michael reflected on how much all that casting must have cost her; that beast he struck had been so brittle already that a single dart finished it decisively. No minor magic, that.

  At her apartment Michael also found the list of phone numbers taped to the fridge, which had been enough for him to finish his most urgent duties for the day. That had been a strangely amusing telephone call— he imagined that very few demons called the switchboard at the nearby Temple complex and asked to make a report. They knew of him, of course— the High Demon who lived in the relatively peaceful Riverton area and kept mostly to himself. Michael knew that he had confused the hell out of them for some time, and now with his direct report he wondered what sort of reaction they were having.

  On that call he arranged for the bodies of May’s dead Guardians to be taken to Riverton’s large Temple complex where Michael knew Guardians were both trained and buried. The two Guardians had done their duty admirably, both in battling the hounds and in defending their Priestess, and they deserved all honor as they were laid to rest. If there were any expenses to be dealt with for that, he would attend to it personally he told the shocked administrator and added that he would keep them apprised of May’s health as she recovered, and could be contacted at any of the phone numbers that he was sure they already had for him. But right now he was more concerned with May. He finally managed to bring her back to his own apartment on the top floor of the hotel he owned for the simple fact that they were both more comfortable there— Michael surrounded by his own domain and May not cocooned in constant reminders of her friends. She retired to bed as soon as they came in, nestled into his own room as it was the only one he was sure was ready for use, and she was still there, wrapped in blankets and hopefully sleeping.

  There was also the fact that his own apartment was fairly well protected. His wards would warn him in advance of the arrival of any intruders, and the apartment itself actually existed slightly offset from the rest of the human world, so he could seal it off if he needed. That had been an especially complicated spell to work out and he was proud of it. He never thought much why he felt it necessary to protect his home so well with such a complicated bit of spell work, but chalked it up to habits learned over the years spent in his clan, and the rapid exit he’d had to take from it. Now, however, he was glad he’d taken the time early on.

  He had spent the night sitting on the sofa with a book, failing spectacularly at focusing on it. The presence of another living being in his home discomforted him, still and silent though she was. It stirred up memories long since packed away in his mind. Every time he had found himself wandering down the maze of his past, he shook his head to clear it and resumed his fitful reading after a brief check on May. It was turning out to be convenient that he didn’t require much sleep.

  The coffeemaker finally stopped gurgling and Michael finished assembling the tray. He hoped May would at least eat something this time. She’d scarcely eaten anything since leaving the hospital. Yesterday afternoon he assumed her lack of appetite had been due to the painkillers prescribed to her at the hospital when they had tended to her wrist and Michael hoped this morning would be different. He opened the heavy door quietly and looked at the girl curled up under the quilt, her bandaged arm resting carelessly on the edge of the mattress. She lay there in a patch of early morning sunlight that worked its way past the thick curtains, as if even the sun was trying to help her heal. The warm light that reflected back onto her pale face made her seem more alive.

  “May. I have some breakfast for you. The kitchen sent up some fruit and eggs and some small sandwiches, and I have made coffee.” May simply nodded, not even opening her eyes. He set it down on the bedside table and frowned. That couldn’t be normal, could it? Certainly he knew that humans grieved over the deaths of those they cared for, but to not eat? Surely meeting one’s own basic needs was more important than anything else. “You should eat something, May. Your wrist won’t heal well if you don’t.” He waited a moment, and then turned and began to leave just as quietly as he’d come in.

  “Michael?” She almost whispered it.

  “Yes?” He paused in the doorway.

  “What day is it?” She asked. She sat up enough to look at him from bruisey red eyes.

  “Thursday.”

  “It’s only been one day.” She said.

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  May simply curled back under the blandly tasteful quilt. Michael frowned again and closed the door. There must be something he could do. Perhaps there would be an answer in one of his books? Or on a website? There must be some information somewhere. He started down the hall towards his office when he paused. His outer ward had just been triggered. Not the most unusual event; the Walker Hotel was fairly successful after all, and his outer ward covered part of the lobby. But this was more than the usual small trembling of an untrained power or alchemically enhanced luggage. It felt trained, focused, and dangerous. He waited, calm and alert, and after a moment his middle ward triggered as well. Someone had entered the private elevator.

  Michael stepped into his office for just a moment before heading back to the front room. The inner ward had triggered and he knew that whatever was causing the disturbance would be at his door by now. He got there just as a knock sounded. Looking out through the peephole he was surprised to see not one but two people standing in the hallway, looking calmly back at the door. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he opened the door, his face again a blank slate.

  “Priestess. Guardian. What are you doing here?” He noticed the suitcases behind them.

  “That was quite a stir you caused yesterday, Michael. We are here to investigate.” The woman smiled. She had her long grey hair pulled back with a simple clip and spoke with the confidence of long experience. “Surely you didn’t think you could call the Temple, tell them that two Guardians were dead, and oh by the way you were taking over for them, and nobody would even raise a comment? You’ve been around far too long for that sort of foolishness. And I think under the circumstances you can use our names. No need to be so formal.”

  “I see. Well, come in, please.” Michael stood back to allow the pair to pass, and closed the door behind them. “May is in bed, but awake. I just took her some breakfast, shall I call down for more?” A polite smile flickered over his face, and he placed a silver knife on the hall table. The hilt sparkled in the light from the hallway, and the sharp blade looked like it disappeared into nothing at the edge; a sweet musical note rang out softly as it touched the polished surface. He noted the other Guardian’s eyes flicker over it as he passed into the room.

  “Please do. And do I smell coffee? I love airplanes and it was hardly long enough to be called a real flight, but travel is always so exhausting.” Paula swept towards the
hallway, her ankle length skirt swishing with each step. “This door?” She asked as she passed through it. The two men had simply watched her disappear into the half lit room.

  “I’m sure you can find the coffee things, Guard—” He paused, “Lee. I’ll call for some more breakfast.”

  A few minutes later Michael started across the front room to pour himself some coffee as Lee stepped out of the bedroom.

  “Hold it.” The older man spoke for the first time since his arrival at the flat. Michael stopped and turned to face the man, conscious of the odd layers of protocol that were shifting around, trying to find a new balance. Lee stepped further into the room and tossed his leather jacket onto a chair. Michael knew that the jacket was enchanted to resist demonic attack. It was not as good as real armor, but better than being completely defenseless as one walked around in public.

  “Yes?” Michael asked.

  “I’m going to ask you for the sake of hearing it personally. Did you arrange for all this?” Lee’s dark eyes seemed to see far more than a human should be able to. A fair question, Michael thought. After all, his kind was known for convoluted schemes and long planning. Still…

  “No.” He shook his head and met Lee’s gaze steadily. “Not that there is any reason for you to believe me if you have decided otherwise.”

  “Why is May here?” Lee asked. “Why not with us at the Temple?”

  “Because it is my duty to take care of her.” Michael answered. “James asked it of me, and I gave him my word.” His words hung in the air and the tension in the two men stood out harshly the bright, airy room.

  “Show me.”

  Michael considered for a moment, then shrugged and started undoing his shirt buttons. It was a legitimate concern, after all. There was no precedent for the situation they were in, and Michael didn’t know if there had even been thought given to the possibility. He rather doubted it, frankly. Still, even though Lee was the younger man, he was technically Michael’s superior now as a Temple Elder, having lived nearly his whole life as a Guardian. Further, it would be unwise to alienate May from her own people, and her wellbeing now had to be factored into all his decisions.

  Lee leaned close, staring at the Mark. Most people would mistake it for a tattoo— a simple pattern that perhaps had some abstract meaning to the man who wore it— but it wasn’t ink that colored the skin on Michael’s shoulder; it was pure power. It bound him permanently to May. Lee’s index finger hovered over the mark, tracing the shape without touching it, then nodded once and turned away.

  “I take my coffee black, please.” He said as he settled onto the sofa. “Then, I think we’ll talk.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Michael handed the heavy mug to Lee and sat down across from him. The room was bland but comfortable in the manner of all hotel rooms— when the tower was built to replace the previous motel Michael simply let the firm that had designed the rest of the hotel do his personal apartment as well— and it was pleasantly welcoming even in the face of the two men squaring off. Michael knew perfectly well that Lee was judging him, trying to weigh the decades of acquaintance they shared with the news of Michael’s actions of the previous morning, because although he hadn’t actually told anyone the specifics of what happened, there was really only one conclusion to reach about how he had come to share James’ Mark. He was suddenly aware that he was nervous. A strange, unfamiliar sensation that he didn’t like.

  “We saw the bodies.” Lee finally said, breaking the heavy silence. “James still carries his Mark.”

  “Yes.” Michael nodded.

  “Tell me about it. In detail.” Lee met Michael’s eyes. The visually older man sat sipping his coffee calmly, looking for all the world like any retired gentleman visiting a younger friend, but Michael could sense the crackle of spells readied for use at any time and knew perfectly well that Lee likely carried a half dozen weapons ready to use. He sat across from a lifelong warrior and he was well aware from having known Lee for much of his career— and having seen him fight— that he was more than merely skilled. Lee was one of the few Guardians that had, in his youth, made Michael aware of just how powerful the Temple could be, and together with Paula and Sam their team had caused Michael to be more cautious than had any of their predecessors. Still, though age had now blunted his edge slightly, Lee would be a difficult opponent for any who chose to pick a fight. Michael could defeat Lee one-on-one through simply overpowering the man but if it came down to a genuine battle Michael knew he would not come through it uninjured. Besides, this whole situation had them both deep in unknown territory and they both knew it. How that would affect a fight between them neither of them could guess.

  He remained still, dark brown eyes watching the other man’s equally impassive face. A memory from his childhood was stirred up of a similar face off between two officials. That had ended in violence, but then that was the way of things in demon society— humans were entirely different and even with all his experience though several generations of them, living among and with humans for so long did not mean he thought like one, and Michael wasn’t certain of his ground here.

  Michael’s mind rapidly flickered through options before he mentally sighed. There was no chance of this sounding believable, he knew. What demon wouldn’t take the chance to devour the soul of a Temple warrior? What Guardian would actually beg a demon to touch his soul and take over his bond? Michael himself didn’t think it sounded even remotely plausible. Nevertheless, he was reporting to a superior— in a manner of speaking— and part of looking after May meant working for the Temple, so he supposed that the report must be made in good faith. If their decision was already made and Lee was simply gathering information then his own report would make little difference. Fully aware of the bizarreness of the situation, he told Lee about feeling the distracting acidity of the hounds’ energy creeping into his awareness and deciding to go out to investigate, to sensing the explosion of battle magic in the park. He added as many details as he could recall about hurrying down the dark street and passing the cafes and shops till he turned the last corner and found the wreckage of the waterfront park. Finally he waited for a reaction as he recounted the conversation with James.

  “I see.” Lee sipped his coffee and let the silence wash back over the room. Through the bedroom door they could just hear sounds of May crying and Paula’s calm voice murmuring back. What was Lee thinking? Was he just waiting for the two women to come out before the three of them joined together against him? Working together they could certainly overpower him, and would likely feel justified in doing so. And Michael would not fight May.

  He couldn’t think of the last time he was so concerned about what was passing though the mind of another, not even when he still lived with his clan. He found himself falling back into old habits, mentally sorting the possible actions his companion could take and considering various responses and counter actions. It startled him how easy it was to slip back into that habit; startled him even more to realize he’d slipped out of it in the first place.

  “Well. I’m glad he didn’t suffer very much. And I think everyone will come around in the end. Just give it some time. You have the time to be patient, after all.” Lee put his empty cup down on the side table and looked down at his hands. “At least I don’t have to teach you how to fight, that saves me some work.”

  “I haven’t needed to draw on those skills very often since my exile, particularly in recent years, so I am out of practice. It’s been one of the more pleasant things about the human realm to my mind. I have been able to concentrate on other things.” Michael admitted.

  “Yet you killed that hound easily enough, from what you said.”

  “I have always been skilled with darts. And the hound had already been effectively defeated by May and her Guardians. I simply finished it.” Michael admitted, then frowned at his own cup. “I don’t know why I felt that I should prepare some darts yesterday, I simply did and I long ago learned to follow my instincts in such mat
ters. Then, later on that evening I sensed that there was something in the wind. Some sort of power was wafting through the city on the breeze so I went out for a walk to try to find the source of it. I have told you the rest.” Michael shrugged. The next question was the one he’d been expecting.

  “What is your plan now, Michael? What do you plan to do with that Mark? I know that High Demons do nothing without a goal of some sort.” Lee asked, his gaze sharp and steady on the other man. It was a reasonable question, and one Michael didn’t have an answer for. The truth of it was that he wasn’t entirely certain himself what had moved him to do as James asked. It was a question he would have to answer at some point, to himself at least, but for now…

  “In truth my goal is simple. I swore that May would not be left alone, and that I would watch over her.” Michael answered. “James asked for my promise, and then offered me a way to fulfill that promise.” Lee’s gaze seemed to be trying to peel away the layers of defensive blankness Michael presented him with, attempting to penetrate to the truth of the man himself more than that of the words he’d spoken. The quiet grew in the room till it lay thick around them. Michael could see Lee sorting, considering, planning, and finally he reached a decision. Lee nodded.

  “We’ll see. You’ll be watched very closely from now on, you realize. The Temple Elders that I have spoken to are not comfortable with this situation in the slightest, and I can’t say I am either.” Lee said. “However, while we may dissolve the Bond you have assumed, we cannot remove the Mark or the powers that go with it. Once someone takes up a Guardianship, that Mark is a lifelong responsibility. Death is the only end for it.”

  Michael nodded. He appreciated that Lee had avoided an explicit threat, but had heard it clearly nonetheless embedded in this new information. In truth, he wished he had known more about Guardians and their Marks before he had accepted James’ proposition; that a Mark was a sign of a Guardian’s bond and their power he knew, but the depth of the branding had been a shock to him as the pattern had curled across his own shoulder. He could feel it even now, a tug at the edge of his consciousness.