Demon Bait: Children of the Undying, Book 1 (2 page)

She tensed for a fight, drew back and kicked him hard in the shin.

A curse escaped him. One knee bent, like he hadn’t expected her to fight back, but his grip didn’t waver. “Damn it, woman, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Like he’d tell her if he was. A completely inappropriate laugh bubbled up. “And you might be crazy, but you’re not a liar, right?”

“Oh, I lie all the time.” It seemed like an easy admission. “But I’m not lying when I tell you I could
make
you stop fighting. I could lean on you and make you think the sky’s pink, honey. Someday I want you to remember that I didn’t.”

“I—” The heavy door to the hallway slammed shut with an odd, echoing clang, leaving her alone, maybe for
days
, with a man who’d just threatened her. A man who claimed not only to recognize what she was, but to be able to protect her, even from a demon onslaught.

As soon as the door closed, Gabe released his grip on the woman and hoped she wouldn’t go for his balls.

She made an outraged noise instead, clenched one tiny fist and hit him square in the chest. “You asshole!”

Better than a foot between the legs, but the woman could put surprising force behind a blow. Gabe rubbed at his chest and took a step back, mostly because retreating might make her feel more secure. “I usually go by Gabe.”

“Too bad,” she snapped. “What were you thinking? You can’t just manhandle someone like that.” That was the whole problem—he hadn’t been thinking. Not from the moment he’d stepped into that dingy, cramped little control room and caught the sweet whisper of magic slicing through the nagging pain from the building’s anti-demon signal.

When the ADS cut out, that whisper had become a roar, and instinct had taken over. She was vulnerable, unmarked, with no bond to protect her. A demon wouldn’t have to lay hands on her to enslave her, but Gabe could keep her safe. Cherish her. Convince her to bind herself to
him
—

A nice thought, if only she didn’t look ready to tear him apart with her bare hands. “I did what I had to do,” he told her, blunt and uncompromising. “You’re in danger out there. A demon would be able to sense you a mile away.”

She stiffened. “So you said. And we both know there’s only one way you could possibly have figured that out.”

Only one way, so maybe he shouldn’t blame her for watching him like he’d grown horns—or wings.

“Yup. Daddy was a demon.”

The woman actually cringed. “I would think you’d want me as far away as possible,” she said desperately. “If they can sense me like you say, they’ll come here. That puts you in danger too.” Her fear had a taste. Metallic, and about as comfortable as chewing on nails. Gabe took a shallow breath and eased his stance. Shoulders lowered, hands open, head tilted just a little. Relaxed and easy, and as nonthreatening a pose as he could manage. “It’s okay. I know how to fight demons.”

“Uh-huh.” She squared her shoulders, still tense and wary. “My name is Marci. Marcelle.”

“Marci.” He loosed his grip on his power, not much, just enough to project a soothing undertone.

“You’re a net-tech?”

“I’m a…” Her words trailed off. She blinked, her eyes unfocused, and a gentle flush crept up her neck and cheeks. “Network technician, yes. I used to work mostly with aesthetic programming before I came here.”

He didn’t have a fucking clue what aesthetic programming was. “Sounds like an interesting job.” The flush deepened. “Avatars. I coded avatars before I put in for transfer to Gold Mills.” Either she was sensitive to seductive magic, or he’d laid it on thicker than he’d intended. Gabe eased up, letting it simmer down to a quiet murmur. “I thought avatars were just scans.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.” Her eyes cleared, and she frowned. “What was that?”

Shit. She was sensitive, all right—and about to catch him out. He had a split second to decide between a lie and the truth.

Truth, because she seemed like the type who’d appreciate it. “Legacy from my father. Women liked him, whether they wanted to or not. Some things are genetic, but I can try to keep it under wraps.” She was so easy to read, he’d have known the moment realization dawned even if she hadn’t squeaked in outrage again. “Is that what you meant? Leaning on me, making me think the sky was pink?” Again, he had to make a choice—and again he chose the truth. “No. One is seduction, but the other…isn’t. And I shouldn’t have said that to you, because I’m not going to do it. It’s fucking repulsive.”

“Yeah, it is. So keep it in your pants.” She stalked past him and tugged on the door with a curse.

“Damn it.
Damn
it.”

“Can the doors be hacked from the network?”

“No.” Marci groaned and smacked her forehead against the door’s surface. “The lockdown can only be cancelled with a keycode generated on the mainframe in Nicollet.” Waiting for the humans to free him was out of the question. As a smuggler, they wouldn’t be friendly to him. As a halfblood demon…

Gabe moved to the right side of the lounge, where a round table sat surrounded by chairs, several tipped over in front of half-eaten meals, as if those on break had abandoned their spots when the alarms went off.

He set down the bags and began to unpack bottled water and packaged rations. “So we need to be ready to spend a few days here.”

“I distinctly recall telling you that several times.”

“Let me rephrase. You need to be ready to spend a few days here with me.” She laughed, but the sound was cut abruptly short as she turned to face him. “You’re half-demon. What kind?”

Humans probably had categories and classifications. It seemed like a human thing to do—name a problem and then avoid it. “We don’t bother much with that. Some of us are lovers. Some are fighters. Warriors and mediators.” He tossed her a smile. “Which do you think I am?” Marci shivered, a breath escaping her on a soft moan. “Rules. I think we need rules.” He could play along, if it made her feel better. “What kind of rules?” Her short, dark hair brushed the pale column of her neck as she glanced around the room. “I don’t spend a lot of time in this lounge, but it has beds, through that door over there. Just a few, mostly for shift workers who live on the other side of the complex but who need to rest between splits.”

“All right.” He concentrated on lining up the water bottles on the table and let her work her way around to whatever she had to say.

“They’re all in one room,” she said evenly, “but there’s no reason we can’t move one out here, yes?”

Gabe scanned the rest of the lounge. Besides the table, it held two beat-up couches, a smattering of chairs, and a screen that looked like an old-fashioned television affixed to the wall.

Posh, all things considered. Probably why people from the city were willing to be posted here in spite of the danger. “I’ll sleep on the couch, if you’re not in the mood to cuddle.”

“Suit yourself.”

Her tone made it clear that she didn’t care what the hell he did, as long as he stayed away from her.

She was pissy as fuck, and he liked that a whole lot better than the fear.

Especially since she was hot when she was mad.

Telling himself it wouldn’t be smart to provoke her, Gabe settled on middle ground—and a change of subject. “Is that a real television?”

“What?” She glanced back at him and then at the wall. “Yeah, sure. We get some programming streamed in from the city, but it’s mostly local-server stuff. Old TV shows, movies.”

“Why don’t you just…?” He shrugged and waved a hand in a drunken loop, common enough shorthand among his peers. “You know. Uplink and watch it there?” Marci frowned as she opened one of the bags and rifled through it. “Why? It’s hardly worth the disorientation for fifteen minutes of downtime.”

“Not something I’ve seen much of, is all.” Not that Zel hadn’t tried to bring back some of the conveniences of the old world, but there was only so much he could do with space at a premium. No room for lounges where only a few people could see a screen, not when their techie could build lavish virtual movie theaters large enough to accommodate half the settlement.

Her quiet voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re from Rochester, aren’t you?” He supposed it was the only logical conclusion. Since he had every intention of taking her back there with him, he didn’t bother to lie. “Yes.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Trade.” He smiled, just a smile, no seductive force behind it. “Bribing people for trade.” From the look on her face—vaguely intrigued, but not surprised—she’d suspected as much. “Do you come here often?”

“From time to time.” He tested her tolerance by taking a few steps toward the couch. “It’s the flour. You’ve got the equipment and resources to make it in bulk. Our settlement can manage a lot, but not that.”

“I see.” She pulled a small plastic package from the bag. Inside was a simple pair of signal-boosting VR glasses, ready to unfold and use. “I need to get in the network and see what’s going on.” The words held an odd note of expectation.

Clearly she had no intention of leaving him in this room with her helpless body. An insult, but not one he didn’t deserve, all things considered. His own glasses were in his pack, which was in a truck stashed a mile away, but one of the other bags he’d grabbed revealed a second disposable pair like the one she’d uncovered. “Will these boost us to the Global?”

She shook her head. “They usually restrict Global access for the first few hours of a lockdown. Local only.”

“Gotcha.” A damn lot of good it would do him. At least with the ADS down, spending time in the network wouldn’t hurt. “Am I going to get in your way in there?”

“No.” She unwrapped her glasses and hesitated. “They’ll restore Global access eventually, and you can get in touch with people back in Rochester. It shouldn’t take long.” The hesitant concern made him smile. “Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” She turned away. “Someone will be missing you soon, right?”

“Maybe in a few days.” It wasn’t quite the truth—if he didn’t check in, they might be worried, but no one would raise a panic. If Zel hadn’t trusted him to get the job done, he wouldn’t be here.

Marci slipped on her glasses, sat on one of the couches and crossed her ankles primly. “Do you have a basic avatar loaded on your chip?”

Gabe dropped to one of the other couches—far enough away not to spook her, hopefully. “Hell if I know. I always have one wherever I go, so I guess?”

The corner of her mouth kicked up. “If it sticks you with a generic skin, I might be able to throw together something better. Not like I won’t have plenty of time.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The plastic covering the glasses crinkled between his fingers and tore easily.

Nothing fancy about them on the surface—plain black lenses to make it easier to block out the world, with the important part built into the frames. A chip would boost the network wireless and let them both connect, even with a weak signal.

He’d never liked the network. It was jarring, being out of the world and cut off from the magic he’d been born with. Not that he loved living every day in a body that could be beyond his control—but it was
his
body, demonic curse and all.

No choice now. Nothing mattered more than earning her trust, because when he blew out of this joint, he wasn’t leaving her behind.

The little summoner was already his.

The first thing Marci noticed when she linked up was that the constant, low pull of sensation that had gripped her when she looked at Gabe had vanished.

Mostly
vanished.

She stepped deeper into the plain room that served as a staging area in the local network and turned to face him. “Okay?”

He looked uncomfortable. His avatar was decent enough—maybe better than it should have been, seeing as how it was stored on his chip, but a tech with a good compression algorithm could make it work.

The scar on his cheek was missing, and he seemed thinner, like the scan had been done before he gained some muscle.

His eyes were still impossibly blue, and they seemed even brighter as he managed a lopsided smile.

“I’ll make it. Not so bad without the ADS.”

Her heart thumped, and she whispered a curse that she tried to cover with a cough. “They might get the signal back up and running any minute now, so enjoy it while you can.” Gabe shrugged. “Pain’s not so bad when it’s fleeting.” Except that it couldn’t be, not for him. If he was half-demon like he’d said, the signal was designed to be a constant source of grating, bone-deep agony. “Surely it would be better for you to avoid it.”

“So you want me to drop back out?”

“No,” she said quickly. Not if it meant having him alone with her body while her mind was engaged elsewhere. “If it starts up, let me know. We can both leave.”

“Sure.” Easy capitulation, and it sounded like a lie. “So this is your local digs?”

“This is—” She blushed to realize she’d been doing nothing of use, and certainly not what she’d linked up for. “It’s a lobby, really. If there’s some sort of meeting, it’ll be…” She tracked her gaze around the room until she found the correct door. “This one.” Gabe studied it, then glanced back to her. “They don’t know what you are. And they don’t know what I am. Probably wouldn’t hurt to keep it that way.”

She’d never been good at deception, which was one of the reasons she’d requested a transfer to an out-of-the-way outpost like Gold Mills in the first place. She was a decent programmer; she could have worked anywhere.

Even now, her hands shook. “We need to find out what’s going on, if there’s news,” she said evenly.

“But we shouldn’t stick around long, maybe.”

Marci didn’t wait for him to agree, just reached out and opened the door.

Inside was chaos—shouting voices and milling bodies. A figure jostled past her, and Marci stifled a gasp when the woman’s arm passed through her own.

“There are too many,” she murmured to Gabe. “The server can’t handle this kind of processing load very well.”

“What does that—”

“Marci!” Asha’s voice, and her friend appeared a moment later, elbowing through the crowd. “I pinged your room and you didn’t answer, I was so worried.”