Sarah Brennan - The Demon's Lexicon

Nick was planning to take risks only with himself. He had no fever fruit, he had no dance partner, and he had never spoken directly to a demon before. If he slipped up, the demon would have him. If he could not manage to offer something she wanted, Liannan might not even come.

He was betting that she would come. She had always seemed like she wanted to come to him.

She was not a woman, of course. That was only a shape she chose to trick humans, but Nick thought it would be easier if he could pretend she was a woman. He had called girls to him before. There was nothing so easy whether you were walking into a classroom, a club, or down the street. All you had to do was send out the right signals, give her the right look, turn your body the right way, and never for a moment let it cross your mind that she might not be interested.

Nick was not carrying his sword, so he laid down his knives before he entered the circle. It was a gesture. He was surrendering and inviting the demon in.

He could not let himself worry about scuffing the chalk marks that showed the lines of communication, or the lines that meant the boundaries between the worlds. If he got distracted from the dance, she would never come.

Pushing away the reality of a gray sky in London, he thought about night, the taste of fever fruit, and the taste of a girl’s mouth. He thought about being in a nightclub and catching a girl’s eyes gleaming under the colored, moving lights. He thought about Mae’s skin under the lanterns of the Goblin Market.

The right words were, as ever, the hardest part. He swallowed and heard his voice come out rough, commanding a girl rather than coaxing her. That worked, sometimes.

“I call on the one who gave me the name Liannan! I call on she who loves water and lives in ice, she who follows men invisible and drives them mad. I call on the face men follow through a winter storm to their deaths. I call on Liannan.”

He thought about practicing the sword in darkness, his whole mind narrowed into nothing but the movement of steel in the night. He danced and remembered fighting, training his aching body until he knew only the desire for perfection, the perfect kill, the perfect kiss. He threw back his head, arched his back, and called Liannan to his side.

When he opened his eyes, there was nothing but the tarmac, the worn building, and the chalk outlines of what looked like a child’s game. Nick waited for a heartbeat, despaired for a breath, and then saw pale fire building from one chalked-in line.

It was a very pale fire, almost colorless, as if water had learned how to burn. Liannan rose from a high flame the color of a fountain with her head bowed, like a goddess rising from the sea. The fire settled over the circle, lapping gently as the sea at low tide around them, and she stood before Nick and lifted her face to his.

His talisman sent a pang of sheer agony through his body, and he gave a quick gasp. She smiled.

She was smiling; she who was a legend in lands where men would follow her into ice and shadow for a smile. She was dazzling, and she would have been even more beautiful if she had not been so pale. Pallor lay over her like a veil, making the color of her eyes impossible to distinguish and cooling the fire of her red hair, as if the vivid color was seen under frost.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, her voice ringing like the chimes at the Goblin Market.

Nick crossed his arms and stared at her. The less he spoke, the less chance there was she could trick him.

Liannan tilted her head. “Do you like this?” she asked. “I remember you always had a fancy for red hair.”

Nick actually preferred blondes, but that hardly mattered. She thought he was a different man, centuries dead, and probably dead by her hand. Demons found it hard to tell humans apart.

“It’s all right,” Nick said grudgingly. “I have two questions for you. I know I didn’t dance with a partner or take the fruit. Tell me your price for answering them.”

“My price.” Liannan’s voice changed to a whisper that sounded like a waterfall. “I will answer one question — if you take off your talisman.”

Every dancer always wore a talisman, because a demon could mark you if you were in a circle, as easily as they could take a mark off you, if you did not wear some protection.

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If he refused, though, she would go. She had chosen her shape, and it was a shape to seduce rather than to force. He could stop her if she tried to mark him.

Nick nodded, and for the first time in eight years, he took off his talisman and cast it to one side.

Losing the talisman should have made him feel vulnerable, but he felt nothing but relief. He always carried the talisman and thought of what had happened to Alan without one. He carried it and bore with the endless prickling discomfort, the pain doubled whenever a demon was near or spells were performed in his presence. He was free of pain at last, and he felt wonderful.

This new freedom made him feel more confident rather than less. He didn’t need any warning. He could deal with demons on his own.

He looked at Liannan and smiled. A smile spread over her face in return, a sad, beautiful smile, with just the faintest gleam of sharp teeth.

She reached out for him, her fingers shining like knives. They were icicles.

“I can touch you now,” she said.

If he tried to fight her, Nick might accidentally step out of the circle. He let her touch him. It wasn’t so bad, since she looked like a girl. She might have been any girl, with her slim body pressed against his, her eyes fixed beseechingly on his face. One hand was curled around his neck, her fingers sharp and cold.

“Ask me your question.”

“Where are the Obsidian Circle?”

She didn’t answer him. That would have been too easy.

Nick could see the demon’s breath, as if she were a child puffing out warm clouds into the cold air, but her breath against his cheek was icy.

“The Obsidian Circle,” she repeated thoughtfully. “That was the Circle that hunted you first. That was the Circle that wanted you most.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Nick snapped.

“All right,” Liannan said, and laughed. “Did you know that was the Circle that killed a man called Daniel Ryves?”

Nick thought of being eight years old and watching his father fall to ash.

“This Circle has something to pay for, then,” he said. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll be glad to kill them. Now, where are they?”

“Exeter,” said Liannan. “But you won’t find them there. They’re leaving soon.”

How like a demon to give an answer that was completely true and utterly useless. Liannan must have seen some of Nick’s fury in his face. It made her laugh.

She had two rows of pointed teeth like a shark. They all flashed when she laughed, and she swayed closer to him. Her mouth was the color of frozen cherries.

“What is it like, being human?” she asked. “I cannot imagine what it must be like, to feel the blood warm in your veins and the sun warm on your face. Will you tell me that you love me?”

“I don’t love you,” said Nick. “I don’t even know you, demon.”

“You did know me once.”

“Did I?” Nick asked. “When was that, exactly? A hundred years ago? More?”

“Something like that,” Liannan murmured.

“How do you think humans work?”

She had no eyelashes, like any reptile or underwater thing. She only looked like a human at first glance, before you noticed that small details were wrong.

“I have no idea,” she answered, and lifted her free hand to touch his face.

The cold burned and numbed him to the pain. He did not even feel a sting when the icicles cut him, only blood trickling down his cheek. She put her mouth to his face, her lips cold but very soft. When she leaned back, her mouth looked warmer, and she trailed her hand down Nick’s chest. His shirt tore under her sharp fingers.