The Trouble with Demons (Raine Benares #3)

The Trouble with Demons (Raine Benares #3) Page 6

I froze. “Wait, you saw it fly in? It didn’t materialize until it snatched up Katelyn.”

Piaras’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I could see it.” He leaned forward and looked around me at Talon. “Could you see it?”

“I heard it.” The goblin wrinkled his nose. “I sure as hell could smell it. But no, until it popped up over our heads, I couldn’t see it.”

“Vegard couldn’t even see it,” I told Piaras. “And I could only see it because . . .” I didn’t want to finish that sentence, at least not out loud. I didn’t know it for sure, but I strongly suspected that my demon-sighting ability was the Saghred’s doing. I had a link with the Saghred; Piaras didn’t. So what did Piaras have that a senior Guardian, a highly trained, elite magical warrior, didn’t?

Piaras turned his face toward me and away from the squad room. “You think you could see it because of the you-know-what?” His voice was barely audible.

“I suspect so, yes,” I told him. “And you seeing it is probably just another talent you didn’t know you had.” I didn’t believe it for a second, but I didn’t want Piaras thinking otherwise.

And speaking of manifesting new talents, there was the not-so-small matter of Talon needing to come clean with his father.

“Does Tam know you can do what you did?”

Talon winced. “I think he’s starting to suspect there’s more to me than meets the eye. Are you going to tell him what happened?”

“No, I’m not. Unless you don’t do it first.”

“But—”

“Talon, there were witnesses,” I told him point-blank. “Hundreds of them. Tam will find out, if he hasn’t already.”

Talon was a half-breed, and that was reason enough for the old blood of both races to despise who he was, what he was, and the very fact that he existed. The kind of power he’d thrown around today wasn’t about to change anyone’s mind. Talon was probably in more danger than he’d ever been in his young life—and the kid didn’t have a clue. He had to know there’d be rumblings, but not that some of the Conclave would be calling for his blood—and his head. Especially considering who and what his father was.

Talon thunked his head against the back of his chair and hissed a chain of obscenities in Goblin. I had to admit, if you needed to do any quality swearing, Goblin was the language to use.

Then Talon turned on the charm and grinned slyly, fangs peeking into view. “You of all people should know what a burden it is to be gorgeous and a magical prodigy. People just don’t understand.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said blandly. “Are you going to tell Tam?”

The kid’s grin widened. “I’ll tell him if you’ll give me that big, wet, sloppy kiss.”

“No kiss, and you’ll tell him anyway.”

His aqua eyes glittered devilishly. Damn, but he looked like Tam.

“You’re no fun,” he told me.

“Yeah, kid, that’s the burden I carry.”

Phaelan came out of Sedge Rinker’s office then and slouched in a chair next to Piaras. His body language said he was calm and confident. The twitch in his left eyelid said otherwise. My cousin, the scourge of the seas of seven kingdoms, was in the same room with at least fifty sworn officers of the law. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t broken any laws today (at least not that I knew of). When your daily life was steeped in as much criminal activity as Phaelan’s was, there was always someone somewhere who wanted your neck in a noose for something. His eyes flicked to a bulletin board covered with wanted posters. He mouthed an obscenity and quickly looked away.

I looked at the board. Yep, one of them was Phaelan. I’d seen a lot of wanted posters of my cousin. Unlike most of them, this one actually bore a resemblance. Kind of.

I chuckled, as did Piaras.

“Shut up!” Phaelan’s teeth were clenched, his lips didn’t move, and words still came out. Impressive.

My chuckle turned into a snort. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not. But you should be.”

“Hey, I’m just a man making a living.”

Talon leaned forward and squinted at the poster, then grinned until his fangs showed. “I don’t think that’s what it says.”

“Quit staring at it!”

“I’m not staring at it. Don’t worry; it’s not that good a likeness.”

I felt someone staring at me then. I didn’t need to look; I knew who it had to be.

Paladin Mychael Eiliesor, the commander of the Conclave Guardians, was standing across the room, his eyes on me, his face a calm, professional mask. I knew better. When Mychael didn’t show emotion, it meant he was experiencing some strong ones. I’d felt them the moment he’d walked through that door. Or more to the point, I’d felt him. Mychael was a master spellsinger and healer, but first and foremost, he was a warrior. The aura of danger and controlled power surrounding him had nothing to do with healing and everything to do with his lethal skill in battlefield magic. The air around him virtually crackled with it, and I knew what stirred the hair on the nape of my neck was just the leftovers. I’d be willing to bet that demons had crossed Mychael’s path on the way here, and they probably weren’t alive anymore to regret it.

I’d been expecting him. From a law-enforcement standpoint, Mychael had ultimate control over the Isle of Mid and everyone on it. As paladin, protecting the Saghred was his responsibility—and since the Saghred and I were a package deal, all that protecting extended to me.

The noise level in the squad room abruptly decreased, and it wasn’t because Mychael had walked through those doors. As paladin, he’d been here many times. I hadn’t. The watchers shut up because they wanted to hear what happened next.

I didn’t.

I stayed right where I was. Mychael cut through the squad room with long strides to where we sat, a man on a mission. I was that mission.

Talon swore again; Piaras made his own contribution, and Phaelan nonchalantly sat up straighter.

“Think we should make a run for it?” my cousin asked.

“I think that’d be a bad idea.”

He shrugged and sat back. “Had to ask.”

When Mychael was within ten feet of me, I stood up. Call it a primitive dominance response. I was a head shorter than Mychael, but I wasn’t about to keep my butt in a chair while he loomed over me.

Close up gave me a nice view of Mychael, and as always, he was damned good to look at. His eyes were that mix of blue and pale green found only in warm, tropical seas. His hair was short and auburn. His handsome features were strong, and his face scruffy with stubble. Very nice. Sexy nice. I guess having demons on your island didn’t give you time to shave. Mychael was an elf, and the tips of his ears were elegantly pointed. I’d felt the urge to nibble those tips on more than one occasion, but I didn’t think now was the time or place.

“We need to talk,” he told me. It was his paladin’s voice. His words weren’t a direct order, but he wasn’t giving me a choice, either.

“Hello, Mychael. We’re all fine. No demon damage. Thank you for asking.”

He just looked at me. “We need to talk.” He glanced over my left shoulder. “Sedge, may we use your conference room?”

“Of course.” The chief’s basso rumble came from his office doorway. “I’ll see to it that you’re not disturbed.”

Mychael almost smiled. “I appreciate that, but I brought my own lookouts.” He glanced down at Piaras and Talon. “And men to escort the two of you out of here and back home right now.”

I tensed. “Now?”

“Now. They need to leave.”

Sedge Rinker stepped forward, his lips a grim, narrow line. “Anyone in particular I should be looking out for here?”

“You’ll know him when you see him.”

“You mean if I see him?”

“No, when.”

Sedge took a breath and let it out with a quiet “damn.”

Mychael nodded grimly. “Exactly.”

Chapter 4

Mychael and I were inside the conference room; four Guardians were outside the conference room. Piaras was being taken under Guardian protection back to the safety of the Fortune. Talon was being escorted back to Sirens, Tam’s nightclub. The conference room door was closed. So it was just me, Mychael, and enough tension and sizzling magical leftovers to fill the rest of the room. Cozy.

Like an increasing number of his men, Mychael was wearing full battle armor. For Guardians, that didn’t mean clunky, shiny plate mail. Mychael’s armor was steel and then some, and sleek was the best way to describe it. Matte finish, dark gray, and custom fit—Mychael’s armor conformed to his leanly muscled body almost like a second skin. No armorer was that good; there had to have been magic involved when it was forged.

I made myself stop staring at Mychael’s conformities and helped myself to a chair. “The reason you’re rushing those boys out of here wouldn’t happen to be named Carnades Silvanus?”

“It would.”

“Shit,” I spat.

Mychael nodded. “That’s why I made sure I got here before he did.”

“You know for a fact he’s coming?”

“Without a doubt. And Piaras and Talon not being here will cause two less complications.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So that’s what you’re calling me now? A complication.”

Mychael pulled up a chair and sat facing me, mere inches separating us. He almost smiled. “You don’t think it fits?”

“Oh, it fits. I just think you could’ve done better. Carnades has got some downright colorful names for me.”

“Carnades has more time to think than I do.”

“And plot,” I reminded him. “Don’t forget the plotting and scheming.”