A Demon's Duty (The Demon Guardian Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  “I’m here. I think I will shower. Do you think I could borrow some clean clothes?”

  “If you didn’t pack any yourself, sweetie, you sure may.” Paula bustled in pulling May’s bag behind her. “I understand if you didn’t, I’m a terrible packer under pressure, myself.” She chattered on as she turned on the water and rummaged through the bag and got May settled in. “Is there shampoo in there? And conditioner? Michael probably doesn’t need any conditioner, his hair’s so short. I have some in my bag anyway, I’ll go get it shall I?”

  “Paula, I keep thinking that I could have done something. I could have saved them. Then I think that Michael should have saved them, why didn’t he come sooner? How did he even know to come at all?”

  “Oh, honey.” Paula turned to look into May’s eyes. “Grief is a terrible lens to review things through. You have lost two people who were very dear to you, which is hard enough even without the Bonds between you, and I know it feels like you’ve lost part of yourself. But you can’t take all the credit or all the blame for anyone else’s actions, including the demons’. Let yourself be sad, but remember to treasure them in your heart. As for Michael, we’re all going to look into this situation, but it seems to me at the moment that you’re going to have to find a way to work with him. Even if it’s just a business sort of relationship rather than a family like you had. Remember, honey, he really doesn’t understand human relationships. It’s all new and confusing to him.” Paula hugged her then thrust her back towards the steaming water. “Now you wash up. I brought a tray in, and it smells amazing. If nothing else the guy knows how to hire a kitchen staff!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  May stepped into the stream of water shooting down from the fancy shower head. She’d played around with the idea of a bubble bath, but it had seemed too decadent and self-indulgent, and she just didn’t think that she deserved anything that nice. Not after she’d failed so badly yesterday. Besides, as exhausted as she still was from the battle, she felt less likely to drown in a shower if she leaned over and fell asleep. She might hit her head, but what was a concussion after what she’d lost already? Dammit, if she’d just been stronger. Faster. Something! She was sure they’d fought things like those beasts before— smaller, sure, and not so many at once but shouldn’t the same spells have worked? There really was no getting around it. May had failed in her duties as a Priestess, and Pike and James had paid the price.

  She turned the heat up, letting needles of heat stab into her shoulders, trying to thaw the block of ice that had lodged in her chest yesterday morning. Deep breath in, slowly let it out. Repeat as necessary. The room smelled faintly citrusy, like a fancy soap, and she wondered of Michael did his own shopping. The idea of the stone faced demon pushing a cart through the local grocery store was so absurd that she almost smiled. He probably just had housekeeping send up whatever they stocked in the hotel.

  She remembered Michael sitting beside her in the back of the ambulance, quietly talking to the paramedics and answering questions from the police that showed up when it was too hard for her to think let alone talk to anyone. He hadn’t left her side for even a moment, only standing a foot or two away even while the doctor examined her wrist. May almost smiled again— it had taken a fair amount of convincing to keep him out of the X-ray area when they’d been trying to determine how badly injured her wrist was. He glowered at the poor tech the whole time they made him stand in the safe zone, even though it had been just a few minutes. She trusted Michael, oddly enough, and couldn’t pretend otherwise, not even to herself. Still, she was confused as hell by what he had done. His words drifted through her mind as he was still speaking.

  “I did as he asked and reached into his soul to assume the burden of his bond.” He admitted it himself, neither his voice nor his face betraying any feelings on the subject as if he discussed washing dishes or buying dinner. Did he even know he should feel something? Did he realize how monumental that sort of thing was?

  May sighed and shifted, blindly reaching for the shampoo. She pulled out a leaf, somehow still tangled in her hair while a cloud of the citrus scent swirled around her. She’d known Michael for years now, and had always felt strangely safe around him. She found the sharp edge of her anger washing down the drain with the suds; she knew somehow that he would do his best to keep her safe, just like he had apparently promised James, but May simply couldn’t reconcile the man— High Demon— she had known for years with one who would consume a human soul. She scrubbed hard at her scalp as if the action could help her sort her thoughts. Some High Demons would invade the Human Realm specifically to consume human souls, though she’d never known why. If Michael was that sort of High Demon then the Temple would simply have killed him long ago, wouldn’t they? That was exactly the sort of thing that the Temple existed to stop, after all, and James was sworn to the Temple, to May herself even! He had always known the risks involved with the defense of mankind against threats from the Demon Realm to human life, limb, and soul; he’d sworn to prevent exactly, precisely this. Sworn to, among other things, keep human souls intact for the afterlife! So how could Michael possibly think that anyone would believe him, saying that James had asked him to rip his soul out of his body and prevent its journey into the afterlife, whatever that held?

  May’s knees shook and she sank to the floor, her face dropping into her hands, the hot water still steaming as it hit her back. She felt hollow. James and Pike had been her family. They’d been there for her almost as long as she could remember, and now they were both gone. Paula was right, it was like losing limbs and suddenly the easiest, most everyday tasks felt impossible.

  But part of James was still here. She’d actually seen James’ mark on Michael’s shoulder and the dissonance had almost shut her down completely. The connection was entirely new and different, reminiscent of when she had first been bonded to her Guardians seven years ago, when it was all exciting and fun and almost a game, and all the sensations associated with the bonding were strange and unfamiliar. Michael was a new Guardian, so their bond would naturally be different, and nobody could begin to guess at how a demon would react to all this. Michael could very well become violent for all they knew. But it was James’s bond, safe and comforting and so familiar in a way that it would be easy to just close her eyes and ignore the danger in the situation.

  And why would Michael agree to pick up a Guardian’s duties anyway? It was absurd! Even assuming he was telling the truth— and honestly, May could believe it. It was the sort of thing James would try to do, the lunatic. Even assuming Michael acted on James’ request rather than his own scheme, why would he agree to it? Now he was saddled with a human Priestess and would have to fight against his own kind, for at least as long as she lived. Why would anyone pledge themselves to what was technically an enemy. Simply because one of that enemy asked them to?

  May couldn’t begin to believe it. There had to be something else. What was so important to him about James’ soul, or his Guardian’s power that was so valuable to Michael that he’d allow himself to be saddled with actively protecting a human, not to mention risking the wrath and pursuit of the whole Temple? May shut off the water. This was definitely something she needed to find out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Michael settled back in his desk chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. It was almost exactly two days now since he’d felt the whisper of the giant hounds’ power drift through the city and gone out to walk through the night and investigate. Since then his whole life had once again been shattered and reformed; this time he’d been able to keep his same apartment, that was something at least. He closed his eyes, his mind wandering without direction and taking him back through time.

  That wretched Uruk and his lunatic schemes. Michael had simply been minding his own business since he’d joined the adult society. That had been a fairly odd behavior in his clan, he admitted to himself, but honestly given his disinterest in starting any of the scrabbles for power as a child it shouldn�
�t have been much of a surprise to anyone. He had been content to spend his days in his chambers doing his research and occasionally seeking out the company of his Consort or some other, or attending Court to fulfill his duties there. Perhaps that had been the problem. If he had bothered to actually start one or two fights perhaps things would have gone differently.

  But no. Uruk had said it himself once, before either of them had been given their own places as adults. Michael never started the fights, but he always ended them the way he wanted them to end. Sometimes that had meant the subjugation of his opponent, sometimes it meant their death. He’d ended up master of a half a dozen or so relatively loyal followers that way over the course of his childhood, with very little effort on his own part. He had simply let them come and be outclassed by the sheer crushing weight of his greater power and skill.

  And his skill was considerable, or it had been, once. Michael winced as he recalled destroying that hound the other night. His aim had been terribly off. He would have to address that. He was very lucky May had weakened the beast so thoroughly or his singly, poorly aimed dart would not have been adequate. He actually couldn’t recall the last time he had done any sort of target practice. He snorted to himself— perhaps he could even visit the nearest Temple facilities and find a sparring partner. Perhaps Lee himself. It might almost be a challenging match, that, and enjoyable as long as they weren’t actually trying to kill one another.

  It absolutely wouldn’t do to be so lax in his habits if he had to face another of his own kind again, however. He would have to be ready for that. No doubt working with May will make such an encounter more likely. Indeed it will make him much more visible, and once Uruk learns that the brother he drove from the clan lives here, well within striking distance, there will be more large battles to fight. He should perhaps warn May and start preparing for that now.

  Michael let his head fall back over the leather padding of his office chair and stared at the ceiling. It was an ivory tone of some variety, warmed by the amber glow of his desk lamp, and chosen by the very reliable hotel decorators that had furnished the rest of the building. There was nothing to note particularly about the blank sheet of drywall over his head. Not like back in his clan’s main compound, in his old living quarters.

  He cast his mind back over the long years to his old chambers deep in the heart of his clan’s Court compound: the grey stone of his chambers, secured in their places by giant trunks of dark polished wood and strong, delicate filigrees of darksteel. The rooms had been in the more prestigious end of the compound near to his mother’s chambers. He had enjoyed spending time there, since they were pleasantly cool all day, even in the glare of the demon realm’s merciless sun, and been refreshing and comfortable at night. They had been secluded enough that he could shut the door and work uninterrupted when he wished to, but if he chose to be social he could quickly join the bustle of Court nearby. He’d taken far more care with the ornaments of those chambers, selecting the carpets and hangings to suit his own tastes. The worktable desk he had actually made himself, building it to his own design so he could work in comfort, and had been deeply satisfied with the results of his labor. And of course his mother had been near as well—the only relative he had ever really trusted.

  “Master Gibil! There are two men coming this way.” The imp said, appearing suddenly at the end of his worktable. He carefully finished pouring the green liquid into the beaker suspended over a small flame before looking up at it.

  “That is not unusual.” He pointed out. “What made you nervous about them?”

  “They were talking. Saying that it was going to be tonight. I’m not sure what they meant, but they smiled like death.” The imp shivered. It took a fair effort to make an imp from this section of the clan’s compound nervous like that. He took more serious note of the warning. “I think they were coming here, so I came faster, the other way.” It added.

  “I see. Thank you.” He considered his options, discarding several. A few moments of preparation and he was ready to receive the guests. He was back at his workstation reading some notes when his servant showed in two smartly dressed demons he knew from Court. His brother’s cronies.

  “Gibil, your studies go well I hope?” The taller of the pair, Emisum, asked.

  “Very well. What brings you here this evening? A visit so sudden is rather unusual.” He closed his book and gestured for them to follow him to a more comfortable part of his rooms. “May I offer you refreshment?”

  “You may!” replied the smaller one. Nicknamed ‘Cutter’ he resembled his favorite tool, his ruddy face narrow and pointed. Even the smile he wore looked sharp and deadly. They lounged comfortably in their chairs as he handed them goblets full of expensive wine, which they held in the traditional salute of those who are about to negotiate.

  “We come with a proposal. Uruk feels that an arrangement with you may be profitable, and we quite agree. He has great plans and they are moving forward this evening.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Yes, and you must be a part of it!” Emisum declared. They sipped their wine, savoring the powerful, spicy flavors. He just watched his visitors over the rim of his cup.

  “Must I?” He set his cup down. “I don’t see why. I have never been of any concern to Uruk before, I see no reason to begin now.” The visitors smiled and leaned forward in their chairs, shifting their weight back toward their feet.

  “Oh, Gibil. You have always been a concern for Uruk. Surely you know that.” Emisum’s oily voice slid across the space. “A great number of valuable gemstones have disappeared from Uruk’s treasure room.”

  “Alchemically valuable.” Cutter added, brushing his fingers across the short fringe on the cuff of his sleeve.

  “And who took them?”

  “When they investigate, they will find that you did, Gibil.” Emisum grinned.

  “But we will have attended the situation already.” Cutter’s smile was knife sharp as he drew a long dagger from his sleeve and lunged. He was halfway across the rug that separated them when he stumbled and fell, clutching at the knife that had lodged straight through his throat. Emisum was sliding out of his chair and gagging on the blood that was flowing out of his mouth and throat, courtesy of the poisoned wine.

  “I wish my brother luck, if this is the best of his plan.” He waited, watching the two demons’ writhing slow and stop. They hadn’t expected him to be ready for their attack, but knowing who and been coming had made it a simple matter to prepare for them. “Imp!” he called.

  “Yes master! Well done, sir!”

  “Hmmm. If you would help me arrange these bodies someplace more appropriate, I have some preparations to make. I think it would be prudent for me to leave tonight.”

  Michael dragged his mind back to the present and the image faded, the featureless ivory sheet of drywall replacing the cool stone above him in his vision. He wondered what happened to that desk when he fled. He had never been able to talk himself into building a new one once he had left his chambers behind. Here, in his Human Realm quarters, he had simply allowed whatever firm had been hired for the rest of the hotel to furnish his rooms before he took residence. Perhaps because his living spaces felt so temporary until just recently. Now he was slowly swapping out some of the bland art pieces for his own mementos, gathered as he travelled. He had rather enjoyed Asia, and about half the things he’d surrounded himself with had come from there. He owned two hotels there as well, now— one in Tokyo and one in Seoul— but Riverton was where he always returned. It was very near the place he’d first arrived in his flight, and it was where he had taken his new name. Another memory slid into his wandering mind, this one from much closer to where he now sat: his very first interaction with a human, here in an earlier version of this city…

  “Michael?” A woman’s voice startled him out of his reverie, sounding worried and tired. Once again his office reasserted itself over his memories. He sat up and looked to the woman peering around the edge of his of
fice door.

  “Yes, Paula?”

  “Am I disturbing you?” She asked. She looked worn out, the lines on her face deeper than they had been that morning. For a moment Michael’s tired mind superimposed a younger version of the face over the one that peered into the room. He blinked it away, returning fully to the present and sitting up straight. He noted that the face may be older and show her concern this evening, but it still held a great deal of strength. She was wrapped in an old flannel bathrobe and had her grey hair pulled back in a braid that draped over her shoulder. She looked like someone’s maiden aunt from historical drama, he thought. Looks can certainly deceive. Michael shook his head and gestured to one of the chairs opposite him.

  “Not at all. I was simply doing some reading. I supposed I should learn a bit more about the Temple, since I seem to now work for it.” He gestured at the books on his desk. “How is May?” Paula sighed and grimaced, sitting heavily into one of the armchairs that sat ready for visitors and leaning back into the cushions.

  “Well, she’s asleep. I think she’ll start coming out of the worst of the shock now, though. Poor girl.”

  “Good. I am glad you came. I… do not know how to comfort people.” He frowned.

  “Oh, it’s not so hard. Mostly I just let her cry at me and told her that she is not to blame for the whole thing. I’m not sure she’s totally convinced of that yet, though.” Paula tilted her head to the side, looking like she sought the best words for her thoughts. “Back then— what has it been, twenty years now?— what was it that spurred you to fling yourself across that street like that? I’ve often wondered over the years.”