Smoke and Ashes (15 page)

Jack took another shot. The tail whipped away. Danvers grabbed his shoulders, dragging him up onto his feet.

“Why are you wrestling with it?” Leah screamed, crouched behind a yellow chaise lounge. “Get those runes in the air!”

Tony ducked as the demon launched itself over him, heading for Leah. Ducked a little lower as it returned the other way, arms and legs flailing as CB yanked it back by the tail.

It folded back on itself, squirmed free, and leaped straight up.

If it regained the high ground…

No way in hell he remembered the runes.

So we stick with what we know.

Miraculously still standing, Tony made a mental note that a Powershot released inside was blinding. Hopefully,
temporarily
blinding.

“Mr. Foster!”

Patterns of blue light danced across the inside of Tony's lids. At least, he thought he had his eyes closed. “Yeah, Boss?”

“Was that you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you hit it?”

“I don't know.”

“Is anyone being disemboweled?” Sarcasm dripped from Leah's voice.

It seemed that no one was.

“Well, isn't that lucky.” Not so much dripping now as flowing freely.

“What was that?” Jack's voice, demanding an answer.

“The demon? Or Tony's pyrotechnical answer to the demon?”

“Hey!” He turned toward where Leah's voice put her. “We were all screwed if it got back into the light grid.”

“Damned right.” Danvers this time. Nice that someone understood.

A hand closed around his arm and by blinking rapidly he could almost make out the silhouette of the person attached to the hand. At least he hoped it was the person attached to the hand.

“You're bleeding.” Danvers again.

“He should count his blessings he's alive to bleed.” Leah, closer now, sounded distinctly unsympathetic. “What happened to the plan, Tony?”

“You guys had a plan?” Jack didn't sound like he believed her.

“There's a way to send the demons back where they came from without wiping out our best defense.”

“If this ash is all that remains of the demon, he's out of the picture.” CB. From near the floor. “Except for a few minor punctures, I believe Mr. Foster—whom, I assume, you were referring to as our best line of defense—is fine.”

“Tony, can you see yet?” Leah. Right in his face.

He could sort of make out shapes, but he got a little dizzy when he turned his head. “Uh…”

“No. He can't. We can. He can't.” Probably Leah's hand on his cheek. The fingers were trembling a little. “Someone had better grab him before he cracks his skull open on the floor.”

On cue, Tony felt his knees buckle.

“I've got you, kid.” A dark Jack-shape with blond highlights.

“These holes look clean, and they're not as deep as they could be.” Danvers, as she pulled his shirt off and started working on the punctures in his shoulder. Tony was starting to really like her. “Damp denim seems to make decent body armor. I don't think he did much damage to your leg either. Is there a first aid—Thanks.”

No mistaking CB's presence up close and personal. There was a sudden lack of open space in the immediate area.

Jack shifted his grip to give Danvers a better angle on the shoulder. “So what's wrong with him?”

“You mean besides the holes? It was the Powershot. Not the smartest thing to do.”

Jack answered Leah's question with one of his own. “Who
are
you?”

He'd keep asking until he got an answer, like the world's biggest red serge-wearing terrier. Given Leah's earlier opinion of all and sundry, and given that Jack was definitely one of the sundry, the odds were good she wasn't going to tell him. The trick was figuring out how much of the truth would shut him up.

“She's a demonic consultant,” Tony told him, trying not to think about what Jack's partner was doing to his shoulder.

“A what?”

“Demonic consul…OW!”

“Sorry.”

“It's okay.” And it was. The flash of white light accompanying the pain seemed to have cleared his vision. Where cleared meant he could see people standing around him and pretty much figure out who they were. Beyond about three meters, things were still a little fuzzy—like his focus had been pulled so he had no depth of field—which likely meant there'd be something with teeth and scales charging in from the fuzzy any minute now.

“Tony?”

Or not.

Lee gradually came into focus as he came closer. Then came into focus a lot faster as he broke into a run and dropped to one knee.

“What happened?” he demanded, his hand closing around Tony's wrist.

Tony opened his mouth, but Jack filled the words in. “It's the aftereffects of frying a demon.”

“You're hurt!”

“It's uh…” He glanced over at the blood-soaked pad in the RCMP officer's hand and decided not to bother with the whole manly denial thing. “Yeah.”

“It's not as bad as it looks.” Danvers' matter-of-fact tone made it convincing. Given that it was his blood, Tony wasn't entirely convinced, but Lee seemed to be.

Seemed to be glaring at Jack.

Who still held Tony cradled against his body while Danvers finished with his shoulder.

Lee was glaring?

Tony had no idea how Jack was responding, but something in the way his grip shifted and the way muscles moved in his chest, made Tony think he felt amused.

“How are the others, Mr. Nicholas?” CB's bulk reappeared like a mahogany wall at the end of Tony's feet, the force of his personality enough to break through Lee's…well, to break through whatever the hell was up with Lee.

“Fine. They're good.” The actor sat back and turned, visibly distancing himself from the scene on the floor—although his fingers maintained their grip. “Mouse thinks the gaffer's nose might be broken.”

“And Mason?”

“Would be on the phone to his agent if there was a phone around to be on.”

“I'll speak with him in a moment.”

“I can't say that I blame him, CB.”

“Demons.” Jack ignored Lee's reinstated glare, but there was nothing that suggested amusement this time. He shifted Tony's weight onto his partner, who caught it, steadied it, and raised a skeptical eyebrow when Tony muttered, “I can sit on my own.”

“What about them?” CB demanded as Jack got slowly to his feet.

“She said
demons
. As in more than one. They had a plan to send the
demons
back where they came from. That…”

All eyes turned with his gesture to the smear of ash on the floor. Tony could just barely make it out. “…isn't the end of this. Is it?”

And all eyes turned to Leah.

Who looked at him.

His stomach growled.

“H
OW LONG IS THIS
Demonic Convergence going to last?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?” CB repeated Leah's answer as a question, an eyebrow raised for punctuation. There were rumors that eyebrow had once caused a loan manager to wet himself—a rumor that Tony, having more than once been on the receiving end of said eyebrow, was inclined to believe.

Leah proved to be made of sterner stuff, but then she'd already survived plagues, the Inquisition, disco…. “Information on the last Demonic Convergence was passed on as an oral history for centuries before finally being written down by an insane monk in 332. He was a little vague on duration.”

“Rather an important point, don't you think?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She matched his dry, sarcastic tone precisely and then sat back and crossed her legs. “Fortunately, we know that the Convergence is of limited duration, just not exactly how limited. My best guess would tie it to the moon through one full cycle. A month, no more. Maybe a little less.”

“And your worst guess?” CB growled.

She shrugged. “The planets change position slowly and the stars slower still.”

“You're saying this could last years?”

“It could.”

“Demons could be dropping into my studio for years?”

“Or the one Tony destroyed could be the only one you'll see. There's no way of knowing for sure.”

Liar,
Tony thought. He was impressed by how much like a consultant she sounded and less impressed by how heavily edited the story had become. She hadn't mentioned that the demons were only coming through because a Demonlord was directing the convergent energy. Nor had she said anything about being an immortal Demongate, confident that Tony would keep her secret. Since he'd already lied for her once today, he supposed she had reason for the confidence. After all those years with Henry, he was good at secrets. And given that the residue of Arra's spell seemed to be exerting a stronger pull than Leah, the whole Demongate thing seemed a little less relevant than it had.

“I have a question!” Perched on the edge of CB's desk, Amy waved her hand above her head, the charms hanging off the polished bicycle chain she wore wrapped around one wrist glinting under the fluorescent lights. “How does one become a demonic consultant? Exactly?”

Amy hadn't been included in the “we” when CB'd growled,
“We need to talk.”
When those who'd been involved in the battle—plus Lee who'd arrived on the scene before anyone thought to adjust the story—followed CB into his office—where followed, in Tony's case, meant hanging off Jack's arm and more or less putting one foot in front of the other—she'd invited herself along, dragging Zev behind her. Tony was glad they were there. Although the odds were good Zev would have understood, keeping Amy out of the loop had limited survivability, and even CB seemed to realize it would be easier in the long run to let her stay.

“I have a better question,” Constable Danvers sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Who the hell is going to believe all that damage in the soundstage was caused by a deranged fan?”

“Drugged fan,” Lee corrected. He'd suggested the cover story.

“Whatever. Drugged, deranged; no one will buy it.”

“Mason did,” Lee reminded her. Mason had been thrilled to think that one of his fans had gone berserk and trashed the soundstage. Mason was thrilled to believe pretty much anything that made it all about him.

“Once Mason starts talking about it,” CB explained, “everyone else will believe it, too.”

“Like he'll give them a choice,” Amy snorted.

CB nodded. “My point exactly. You should use the tools you have to hand.”

Everyone turned to look at Tony.

“You calling me a tool?” he roused himself enough to mutter.

“Yes.”

So much for humor.

“I shall sum up, then.” CB leaned back in his chair which creaked alarmingly under his bulk. “We are in the midst of a Demonic Convergence of indeterminate length. The demons are attracted to this building because of…”

Tony hoped no one had noticed the slight pause—where
no one
referred to the RCMP officers who hadn't been told about the gate or Arra or the Shadowlord when they were told about what had happened in the house. Given that they'd been standing on the front lawn when the heavens opened, the story of the house had been unavoidable, but—so far—Tony'd managed to avoid filling in the whole metaphysical backstory.

“…the residual energy; energy most likely connected to Mr. Foster's abilities.”

That's right. Make it believable. Blame me.

“Ms. Burnett,” CB continued, “who has made a study of demonology…”

No one seemed to have any trouble believing in a stuntwoman as a student of demonology.

“…just happened to have recently contacted Mr. Foster to inform him about this Demonic Convergence and to instruct him on how to return said demons to the hell they came from—although, as circumstances have forced Mr. Foster to fry both demons he has already faced, whether or not he
can
return them remains theoretical.”

Tony rubbed the bandage on his shoulder. Nothing much about this seemed theoretical to him. His whole body ached.

“Because both demons have been reduced to ash, we have no proof should we decide to make the story public, so rather than be mocked by those who have not shared our experiences, we are maintaining that today's incident was caused by a drugged fan of Mason Reed's. Constables Danvers and Elson will support that story in their reports.”

“I can't believe we're going to falsify a report!” Constable Danvers punctuated each word by banging the back of her head against the wall.

CB laid both hands flat on his desk. The fingers of the left hand started to tremble. Muscles tensed in the arm the demon had dislocated and Jack had snapped back, and the trembling stopped. “Given that you arrived here in an official capacity, the report is unavoidable. You may, of course, choose to tell the truth.”

Danvers looked at CB, she looked around the room, and, finally, she looked at her partner. Who shrugged. Jack had been remarkably quiet since he'd brought up the point about multiple demons. Tony wondered what he was thinking. His partner seemed to be wondering the same, but after a long moment, she sighed and muttered, “Fine. But what happens if these things go public? You know, suddenly show up on the six o'clock news climbing the Lions Gate Bridge?”

“They don't show up on camera,” Leah told her.

“Why not?”

“They don't have souls.”

“What?”

“A camera steals a piece of your soul,” Leah explained. “Demons have no souls, so they don't show up on camera.”

“That's total bullshit.”

A raised hand cut off the murmur of agreement. Leah leaned toward the constable, smiling slightly. “Why
don't
demons show up on camera, then?”

“Because they…I mean, they…” When no one seemed willing to help, Danvers' shoulders sagged. “I can't believe I'm even having this conversation.”
Bang. Bang. Bang
against the wall.

Jack reached out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping the motion. Once she'd stilled, he stepped past her, swept a narrow-eyed gaze around the room—which would have been more effective had most of the people in the room not recognized it as having been inserted for effect—and finally locked his eyes on CB. “As long as demons are attracted to your soundstage, for
whatever
reason…”

Translating the emphasis, Tony could see another “talk” with the constable in his future. Probably accompanied by shouting.

“…you'll have to close the studio.”

Zev hummed a few portentous bars of music under his breath.

Amy moved off CB's desk and out of the line of fire as the producer smiled. “I have an episode and a half of a show still to shoot, Constable. I
have
to do no such thing.”

“People are going to get hurt. Someone's already been hurt. Someone besides Tony.”

“It was the gaffer,” Tony murmured. “He's the guy who sets the lights to get the effect the DP wants,” he expanded when Jack turned to glare. “When things get weird, it's good to hold onto the stuff you know. Not you, personally,” he added quickly. “Us you.”

“Did you get hit on the head?”

“I don't think so.”

“Check.” Jack's attention relocked on CB. “Your gaffer's nose is broken. He's on his way to the hospital. You were lucky no one was seriously hurt. Or killed. You're closing the studio.”

“I am contractually obligated to provide twenty-two episodes of
Darkest Night
within a specific time frame,” CB told him. “If I close the studio, this won't happen, and we will be in violation of our contract. There will be no season two. My people will be let go. Most will not be able to find new work as many of the network shows that were filming in Vancouver have moved back across the border.”

“So you think your ‘people'…”

That was the most sarcastic set of air quotes Tony had ever seen.

“…would rather be exposed to demonic attacks than unemployment?”

“Speaking as one of his people…” Perched now on an arm of the couch, Amy waved again. “…definitely.”

“You are not the average employee,” Jack pointed out.

“I am,” Zev broke in before Amy could respond. He shuffled forward to the edge of the couch cushion. “I vote we finish the season.”

Jack stared at the music director for a long moment. “Why are you even here?” he asked.

A nod toward Amy. “I came in with her.”

“That's not helping your case, you know that, right?”

“Yes, but…” He winced and fell silent as Amy smacked him on the arm.

“And,” Jack continued, “as I understand things, neither of you spend much time out on the soundstage where the demons are going to be.”

“I do.” Lee rose slowly off his end of the couch and moved until he stood face-to-face with Jack. “And I say we don't close the studio.”

Tony had a feeling that, right at that moment, Lee would say black if Jack said white. He cleared his throat and was more or less gratified when it drew everyone's attention back to him. “Look, I'm going to be here anyway…” He tried to sit forward like Zev had, found he didn't have the energy, figured
screw it
as he fell back, sagging slightly into the warmth Lee had left. “…and it would be a lot easier on me if I didn't have to waste time and energy…” A short rest for emphasis before he finished. “…keeping friends and coworkers from being eaten while I deal.”

“Eaten?” Amy and Zev together. Lee came in a little late.

“We've got a dead guy without an arm in the morgue. Killed by a demon who ate the arm.” Jack folded his arms triumphantly.

He didn't know the arm hadn't been eaten, and since he was helping Tony make his point, Tony wasn't planning on mentioning it.

“So…” CB steepled his fingers and peered over the mahogany triangle at his TAD. “You think I should close the studio.”

“No.” Leah jumped in before Tony could get his mouth open. “I don't think you should close the studio.” She stood and spread her hands, looking earnest. “We don't know how long the Demonic Convergence will last.” Tossing her hair back over her shoulders, she adjusted her posture subtly. “There's no reason to risk putting so many people out of work. Tony will be here. I've taught him everything he needs to know.”

The simple statement sounded pornographic.

Lee, who was closest to her, made a sound low in his throat. CB and Jack leaned in.

Ryne Cyratane flexed translucent muscles and ran his hands down Leah's arms.

“Then it's settled.” CB's voice slipped past Barry White and headed toward registering on the Richter scale. “We'll keep the studio open.”

Jack nodded, absently drying his palms on his thighs. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Nothing about this sounds reasonable,” Danvers muttered. “What the hell are you talking about, Jack?”

“She's the demonic consultant.” A nod and an appreciative smile toward Leah. “We're out of our depth—we should listen to her.”

“You're out of your mind.”

Charms chimed as Amy waved. “I'd like to second that, except I want the studio open, so I won't.”

All right. Enough was enough. If Leah didn't want her secrets told to all and sundry, she needed to lay off taking advantage of all and sundry. Tony frowned at Lee. Especially this particular sundry. “She's using demonic sex appeal to convince you.”