Lisa Shearin: The Trouble With Demons

I wasn’t sure which was more dangerous anymore, me or the rock.

“How do you think Dad and I control those mangy, homicidal maniacs we call our crews?” Phaelan was saying. “There’s always one or two that step out of line. We simply turn them into a well-publicized example, and the rest behave themselves.”

I just looked at him. “How about they’re just mangy, money-grubbing , homicidal maniacs who put up with your crap to get a cut of the gold a Benares ship brings in?”

Phaelan flashed a crooked grin. “There’s that, too.”

At least Phaelan knew who’d be planting daggers between his shoulder blades. I had no freaking clue. Don’t get me wrong; I knew the names and faces of most of the mages or bureaucrats who wanted me dead or snatched. But I also knew that they’d never dream of getting my blood on their lily-pure hands. They’d hire someone else to do it for them.

Generally the rich and powerful were tighter than a banker’s fist on their purse strings, but if they wanted something done badly enough, they’d be willing to cough up the coin. They also did their homework before they hired help to ensure they’d be getting their money’s worth. So chances were any assassin or kidnapper they sent after me would be pros who knew their business. Phaelan knew the cream of the crop by name and on sight. I knew a couple of them myself-some a little too well.

Phaelan had men staking out the docks who knew whom to look for, and runners who would bring news of any sightings to his flagship, the Fortune. So if a pro stepped off of a ship, boat, or dinghy, Phaelan and I would have his or her name within minutes, but that didn’t stop the space between my shoulder blades from itching.

I had Phaelan and Vegard with me and four uniformed Guardians around them. They were close, but not too close. Other Guardians in plain clothes mingled with the crowds. Most women go shopping with their girlfriends; I go with an armed escort.

Within the hour, the armorer had taken my measurements and would be making me some leathers a woman could be proud of wearing and safe being seen in-or shot at. I’d ordered three ensembles: one in black, one in brown, and one in midnight blue. To his credit, the man didn’t balk at the rush job. I knew he wanted me to be wearing his work as soon as possible. When someone finally did take a shot or stab at me, he wanted to make sure it was his leathers that saved my hide. There was nothing like a foiled hit to boost business.

Phaelan was less than thrilled with my choice of colors.

“You wear red,” I told him as we left the shop. “I don’t. With my red hair it’d make me look like a lit match.”

Something blue darted on the edge of my vision. Several blue somethings, man-sized, about a quarter of a block ahead. A blue so bright that it gave Phaelan’s doublet a run for its money.

One of them stopped and stared at me.

I stopped breathing.

The thing was standing in the middle of the street, people flowing around it as if it weren’t even there.

It was blue, all right. From its clawed feet to the top of its bald and horned head. Blue.

It was also naked.

I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, and I really didn’t want to get close enough to find out. But it didn’t appear to have anything to indicate that it was either sex. Creepy.

It grinned at me and darted down a side street.

I think my mouth fell open. “What’s bright blue and buck naked?” I never took my eyes from where it’d gone.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Phaelan mused. “I haven’t heard that one. Vegard?”

The big Guardian shrugged. “New joke?”

“No joke,” I told them both. “You didn’t see it, did you?”

At the tension in my voice, Vegard moved in front of me. Protectively. Annoyingly. Now I couldn’t see anything. I ducked under his arm and headed for that side street. Vegard reached out to push me behind him and I ducked out of reach and ran. Phaelan and the Guardians were right on our heels.

“They were blue, naked, claw-footed, with horns on their heads,” I told Vegard.

“What?” The Guardian stopped, pulling me with him.

“Ma’am, are you sure you haven’t been-”

I drew breath to retort, but a scream from that side street answered him better than I could.

It’s been my experience that nothing clears a crowded street quicker than a scream. In this instance, I approved of crowd cowardice. Fewer people on the street meant fewer people hurt. It also meant fewer people between me and where I was determined to go. And if I had to drag a big, blond Guardian behind me, so be it.

Vegard drew a massive battle-ax from the harness on his back, the steel blade shimmering pale blue with magic.

He insisted on looking around the corner first. I let him.

He took a look and relaxed the arm holding the ax. “Ma’am, there’s nothing there.” He said it as if nothing was precisely what he expected to find.

I wasn’t giving up. “What about the scream?”

“One scream, no victim-at least not here.” Vegard turned to a pair of Guardians in plain clothes. “Erik, take Dacan and see if you can track down where-”

I stepped around Vegard to look down that street myself. “I can’t believe there’s no…” I looked, saw, jumped back, and flattened myself against the stone wall beside Vegard.

There were nearly a dozen of us. There were more of them . A lot more.

“Vegard, there are definitely-”

The scream turned into a shriek, and it was coming from that street.

Phaelan had his rapier in his hand and stepped around the corner. In a split second, his face went from combative to confused. “What the hell?”

“I don’t have it!” a terrified voice shrieked.

Vegard and I looked where Phaelan was looking. An elf in mage robes was rolling around in the street, cringing and trying to cover his head. Just him, no one else. Apparently that was what Phaelan and Vegard saw.

I saw a gang of blue monsters mugging a mage.

I tried to duck past Vegard. The big Guardian moved with me this time, completely blocking my way.

“But they’re beating the crap out of him!” And I was tempted to beat the same thing out of Vegard.

“Who are they , ma’am?”

I swore. The creatures had to be using a cloaking spell of some kind. I desperately looked around for something, anything. There it was. A broken piece of cobble. Perfect. I bared my teeth in grim satisfaction, took aim, and threw that chunk of brick as hard as I could at the closest blue head.

It hit. The pain made the thing drop its cloak, and it turned, thin blue lips curling back to show me a collection of jagged, unnervingly sharp, and entirely too many teeth. One by one, the others did the same as they left the elf lying motionless in the street and turned on us.

Sometimes it was bad when a plan worked. The “I told you so” on my lips turned into the four-letter word that I rarely use.

Now Phaelan and Vegard saw what I saw.

Phaelan didn’t say anything; he just blanched.

“Demons!” Vegard bellowed to his men.

The Guardians drew weapons shimmering with magic, magic that would slice through anything it touched. Vegard picked me up and forcibly put me behind him. I didn’t stay there. Thanks to me, we had the undivided attention of over two dozen blue and now angry demons, so Vegard didn’t have time to argue with me.

Some of the demons cloaked again.

Vegard’s pale blue eyes darted. “Dammit!”

“It’s a cloak,” I told him.

I drew the pair of swords strapped across my back. The longer my steel, the farther away I could stay from those things. In theory.