Bedeviled (12 page)

That, Culhane would not allow.

Following the demon’s trail was easy enough. Though it wore its human costume, the demon’s underlying scent could not be hidden so easily. It went farther from the heart of the small town and moved closer to the harbor. Here the tang of the sea flavored the air. Here the buildings were older, dirtier, the streets narrower. The docks lay idle now but for a few pleasure craft, but the jetty that led to the old lighthouse was crowded with people wandering there and back as waves crashed and spray flew into the air.

Culhane closed the distance between him and his prey, and it was then that the demon finally became aware that it was being followed. One quick look over its shoulder and the creature began to sprint. Running, shoving its way through the crowd, the beast in human costume made a desperate bid for escape. It shoved one man into the street, and a car horn blasted even as the driver slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting it.

Culhane wasn’t more than a step or two behind the creature, so when the demon threw a child down to the sidewalk, Culhane jumped over the small, crying boy with ease. Damned if he’d play games with the thing. He had other business to take care of—such as turning a human female into a Fae warrior.

The demon darted down a side street, ran between the parked cars and into a squat brown building with faded paint and broken windows. Flower boxes holding the skeletons of blooms long dead lined the front steps, and the door hung open as if in welcome.

Culhane took the demon up on its invitation. Stepping into the building, he wrinkled his nose at the smells. The mortal world smelled badly enough, but this place was a true test of a warrior’s resolve. The stench of something rotten curled in the stale air, and Culhane knew he’d found a demon nest.

Drawing his knife from the scabbard at his waist, he moved farther into the shadows, eyes sharp, checking every hole and darkened corner. “You hide from me? Are you really such a coward?”

“Coward?” The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. “You think you were following me? I
led
you here. You’re in my house now, Fae. The rules are mine.”

Culhane laughed and heard rustling. The demon was constantly moving—looking for a better angle of attack? Or a better hiding place? “And your rules are to hide and jump out at me from the darkness? What a brave demon you are. This must be why they chose you to go after the human woman.”

“What do you know about her?” The voice was sly, the question careful.

The demon was still moving, shifting position in the house so that Culhane couldn’t keep a lock on it. But Culhane’s ears were attuned to every creak, every whisper, every slide of a foot against the floor. He knew precisely where the demon was now, but had no intention of giving that away.

“She’s my charge,” Culhane shouted, to make sure that any others hiding in this pest-hole heard him. Too much rested on Maggie Donovan. He would take no chances with her safety. He never had. “Under my protection.”

“Why does a Fae warrior care what happens to a mortal?”

“Since when does a Fae warrior explain himself to a demon?” Culhane countered. The soft brush of cloth on wood told him where the demon was. Culhane tracked it without moving an inch.

“She killed one of us.”

“To protect herself. The demon was feasting on a human and then attacked her.”

“Word is, her mate’s putting out a reward for the human bitch. You think I’m the only one who will be after her?”

“My protection,” Culhane reminded it. His gaze moved carefully over the room, noting the torn furniture, the ripped carpet and the broken tables. Demons were all different, he knew. Some preferred opulent living here among the mortals. Some preferred anonymity. This one apparently leaned more toward a rathole.

“I saw you stalking her,” Culhane said. “At the food store. You confronted her.”

“Only a warning,” the demon cooed, its voice coming now from behind Culhane. “Only having some fun. Not like I could have killed her in the grocery store.”

“You were still stalking her today, but you won’t kill her. She is beyond you.” Or would be soon. When Maggie Donovan fulfilled her destiny, she would be a force to be reckoned with throughout the worlds.

“Because of the Fae power? Please.” Disgust and humor both rang in the demon’s voice. “She doesn’t know how to use it yet. She’ll be dead inside a month.”

“Not by you or yours,” Culhane promised quietly. Then he spun around, stretched one hand into the shadows and grabbed the demon trying to slither closer. Fingers closing tight around the creature’s throat, Culhane yanked it into the half-light. The demon’s human mask had slipped, leaving behind only oily, dark green skin, red eyes and the hint of horns. “You should have stayed away from her.”

“I didn’t hurt her,” the creature whined, pleading for mercy now that it had been caught.

“And you won’t.” Culhane drew his knife back, thrust it forward and delivered the killing blow so fast, the demon never saw him move. As he dropped the creature to the dirty floor he bent over it, blew a stream of Faery dust over the demon’s body and watched as it exploded into dust.

Finished, Culhane lifted his gaze again for one last sweep around the interior of the building. He sensed the presence of others, though they were making no move to confront him. Just as well, he thought. He’d spent more than enough time in this place. But before he left he issued one last warning.

“I know there are more of you here. I could take the time to search you out and dispose of you as I have this one.” He slid his blade back into its scabbard with a whisper of sound.

The house was silent, but Culhane knew they were still there. At least two more demons were hiding in the nest they’d built out of the humans’ leavings. So he spoke again, to make himself clear.

“The woman has the protection of the Fae warriors. Leave her alone . . . or die. Your choice.”

Then he turned, left the house and disappeared into the sunlight.

“Oh, my pixie ass! What part of the word
concentrate
do you not understand? Stop worrying about floating and flying and worry more about the enemies who’ll be coming after you.”

Maggie fixed a hard stare on the ugly little man who, over the last two days, had become the bane of her existence. “I
am
concentrating—on not floating so high I’m whipping around through the treetops! How’m I supposed to concentrate on more than one thing at a time?”

“I thought women were supposed to be multitaskers.”

Maggie’s feet hit the ground and she laughed. “Where’d you hear that?”

“What?” He glowered at her, his silvery eyebrows drawing together over those weirdly pale blue eyes. “You think this world is the only one where women think they’re better than the rest of us?”

“Man, I’d really love to meet your wife.” Any female, pixie or human, who would intentionally put up with this little jerk should be, in Maggie’s opinion, put up for sainthood.

“That ain’t gonna happen,” he muttered, and kicked Sheba’s ball. Reluctantly the golden shuffled off after it. “She’s not real happy with me at the moment.”

Delighted to take a break from her “training,” Maggie grabbed the change of subject and held on with both hands. “What’d you do? Drop pixie dust in the hallway?”

“Funny. If you want to know, she didn’t want me coming here, helping Culhane.”

Okay, that was surprising. Maggie reached up, lifted her hair off her neck and almost sighed as the cold wind buffeted her bare skin. “Why not?”

“Nosy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed, and his scraggly chin whiskers ruffled in the breeze. “For one thing, Fontana’s not real fond of humans. You guys are so big you make her nervous. But mostly she’s afraid Mab’ll find out and have me flayed.”

Not what she was expecting to hear, for some reason. Her stomach jittered a little at the ugly picture his words had evoked. “Nice queen you got there.”

“Yeah, she’s Ms. Popularity in Otherworld.”

“If everybody hates her, how come nobody’s overthrown her?”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Thought that’s what you were going to do.”

Her? A revolutionary? “Not my plan. Culhane’s.”

Just the mention of the Fae warrior’s name had tiny pools of heat forming in her center. She really didn’t want to admit that, even to herself, but it seemed that the longer he stayed away from her, the more she thought about him.
Damn it.
She even dreamed about him, long, tantalizing, sexual dreams where those magical hands of his stroked her body into a feverish pitch and she woke hot, needy and cranky.

Meanwhile, Culhane was probably off in Fae having a grand old time, not giving her a thought, while she was sweating and being insulted by his pixie.

“It’s a good plan.”

Her gaze shifted to Bezel, who was watching her with a steady, penetrating stare.

“You think I’m hopeless.”

“Yeah, but I think all humans are hopeless. You’re no worse than the rest of them.”

“Wow, thanks.” She stretched out on the grass and barely managed to stifle a groan as Sheba dropped her enormous body across Maggie’s chest. At least now she didn’t have to worry about floating.

The sky overhead was smoke gray, with clouds the color of fresh bruises piling up over the ocean, getting ready to rush to shore. The bare-branched trees were rattling in a cold wind that heralded a coming storm, and every muscle in her body ached like a bad tooth. She had demons and Faery queens who wanted her dead, and a pixie making her life a living hell.

How had she come to this?

Seriously? Maggie was beginning to think it might be easier if she just let some demon eat her and have it over with.

“Feeling sorry for yourself?”

Maggie turned to look at the pixie as another frown crossed Bezel’s features. She idly noted how comfortable he seemed to be with that particular expression.

“Maybe.”

“Well, cut it out. You’ve got Fae blood in you, and the power, so it could work.” He lifted one long, bony finger and pointed it at her. “But you’ve got to try harder. You don’t exactly have a lot of time.”

“I know, I know,” Maggie said on a sigh. “Demons are after me.”

“It’s not just them you have to worry about. If Mab finds out about you . . . ”

Oh, Maggie didn’t even want a description of what would happen to her if Mab discovered her existence. If the queen would flay one of her own, there was just no telling how her imagination would run amok with Maggie.

“I get it. And trust me.” Maggie pushed Sheba off her chest and sat up, ignoring the dog’s whining. “I’m plenty worried about all of this.”

“Then for the goddess’s sake, pay attention.” Bezel walked back and forth in front of her like a general inspecting his troops—and finding them lacking. Well, too bad. She hadn’t
asked
to join this army, had she?

“I told you, Faery dust is fatal to demons.”

Yeah, he had. As if she didn’t know that for herself. Hadn’t she had a front-row seat to watch a demon dissolve in a golden tornado? “But,” she reminded him, not for the first time, as she pushed herself to her feet and concentrated on not leaving the ground, “I
got
this dust from a demon.”

“Came from a damned pendant, though, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but . . .”

Bezel inhaled sharply, then made a face at what he called “the stench of mortality.” “You don’t listen. I told Culhane this was pointless, but he insisted you be trained.”

“Some training. What’re you supposed to be teaching me? Shouldn’t I be learning karate or judo or something? How to flip big, bad demons over my shoulder like Buffy?”

He snorted and looked her up and down dismissively. “You can’t stand still without your feet leaving the ground. How in
Ifreann
can you learn to throw demons around?”

“Ifreann?”

Muttering, he said, “Think hell. Only it makes your version of hell look like a party.” He shuddered, and the ripples of it sent his long hair swaying. “Besides, do I look big enough to teach you how to toss demons around?”

“Fine.” Maggie was a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to be trained to be a superhero or something. After all, she could almost fly. Why not fight? And hey, she wasn’t even thinking about it and she wasn’t floating, so good for her. She was getting the hang of this stuff, no matter what Bezel had to say about it. “Teach me. But answer me this: If Culhane’s so concerned about my training, why isn’t
he
doing it?”

Bezel snorted a laugh at that. “He’s a Fae warrior. He can’t stay away from Otherworld too long or the queen will wonder what the devil he’s up to. Then where would we be?”

Maggie opened her mouth.

He cut her off. “I’ll tell you where. Mab would slide into this world to check things out for herself, stir things up while she’s here and probably kill you, just for starters.”

“Okeydokey, then.” Maggie swallowed hard, lifted her face into the cool sea wind and reminded herself not to ask a question if she didn’t want the answer. Still, it was hard to imagine a Faery queen she didn’t even know wanting her dead.

Bezel kicked her to get her attention. “If you’re finished asking stupid questions, listen up, because I’m not going through this part of it again.” His gaze narrowed on her. “Demons kill Faeries to capture their dust. Just having it on them gives them strength. But if the dust touches them they die. So it’s a trade-off.” He shrugged narrow shoulders. “Most of your demons are smart enough to leave Fae alone. But there are always some who want the power more than they fear death.”

Great. That was just great.

“So they kill a Faery and trap the dust in something.”

“Has to be gold. Or at least part gold,” Bezel said, probably not for the first time, since he looked so disgusted.

Maggie didn’t feel sorry for him. She had a lot going on at the moment. Kind of hard to concentrate.

“The purity of the gold is what holds the dust in place.”

“So when I broke the crystal front on the pendant . . .”

“Demon go boom.”

She gave him a tight smile. “That’s lovely.”