Lisa Shearin - The Trouble With Demons

“Then we won’t get caught.” He sounded confident about that; I’d like to have shared his optimism.

“I know what will happen if the demons get that dagger,” Piaras continued. “If they reach the Saghred, they’ll let the demon king out, and people who might be even worse.” He paused. “I’m sure Sarad Nukpana will be second in line. There’s no question of what I have to do.”

I stood there, looking at him. Then I hugged him. Guardians and pirates be damned; I didn’t care who saw it. Piaras hugged me back; it looked like he didn’t care, either.

Then came the fun of negotiating terms with Piaras’s Guardians. When the dust settled, three of them had agreed to wait outside, wait close to the house, but definitely outside. If any nosy neighbors were looking out their windows, Guardians on duty outside the acting archmagus’s town house wouldn’t be suspicious in the least. If Piaras was going inside, he’d need protection from outside as well. And if we needed help, we’d yell. Phaelan and I were good at that.

One of Piaras’s Guardians was going in with us. Mychael had told Herrick to stick to his future little brother like glue, and stick he would. The huge Guardian wasn’t going to let a little thing like treason to an acting archmagus keep him from doing his guard duty. The chance of capture and being charged with treason didn’t faze Vegard, either. His response when I told him I wanted him to stay outside was, “No, ma’am, and no arguments.” Truth was I wanted him with me, and I think he knew that without me saying a word.

Phaelan sauntered over. “We’ve scoped it out.” He paused. “No one on guard.”

Warning bells went off in my head. “What?”

“Not one highborn elven goon in fancy livery. The place looks deserted.”

Come right on in, said the spider to the fly.

I swore. “Maybe Carnades took them all to the faculty club.” I said it but I didn’t believe it, not for one minute. They could be waiting inside. Or worse, Carnades had such kick-ass wards that he didn’t need any guards.

“Is the kid going with us?” Phaelan asked me.

“The kid is,” Piaras told him.

My cousin looked at me with no expression whatsoever.

“He is,” I said.

Phaelan solemnly put out his hand and Piaras took it. Right now, Phaelan wasn’t my cousin. He was Captain Benares, scourge of the seven kingdoms, and we were about to break a double armload of laws. “Welcome to the family, Piaras.”

Three of Piaras’s Guardians staying outside left only Justinius’s wards and Herrick to keep Sarad Nukpana out of Piaras’s mind. Nukpana had told me what he thought of the old man’s efforts. If those wards failed, Herrick was the only barrier keeping the goblin from taking over Piaras-the only barrier except for Piaras himself. I looked over at him. While Phaelan and Vegard took one last look at the back of the house to locate the best way in, Piaras hadn’t moved. He was completely silent and still, ready and waiting-the perfect future Guardian. Herrick loomed like a protective shadow behind him. If Sarad Nukpana was smart, he’d keep his manipulations to himself.

I didn’t think Nukpana would try anything; he needed for me to find the Scythe of Nen. The demons sure as hell weren’t going to let him out, at least not intentionally. Problem was, I was pretty sure Nukpana trusted the demons more than he did me. I had to hand it to the goblin; he was a good judge of character.

Phaelan and Vegard came back to where Piaras and I were waiting.

“There’s a door by the kitchen, probably for deliveries,” Vegard said. “The wards aren’t quite as sophisticated there, probably so the kitchen staff can let delivery people in and out.”

Vegard didn’t have to spell it out for me; I could read between the lines. If Carnades had wards on the kitchen door, and kitchen staff talented enough to use them, that didn’t bode well for what we’d run into in the rest of the house. It went without saying that Carnades valued his dagger collection and the rest of his worldly goods. I bet those wards packed a punch. Maybe we’d get lucky and he left the Scythe on his bedroom dresser from when he wore it yesterday. You’d think that Luck had to start speaking to me again sometime. The pessimist inside my head told me not to hold my breath on that one.

“No kitchen staff?” I asked Vegard.

“No signs of anyone being in the house, period.”

“It’s spooky,” Phaelan added.

It was worse than that, but I didn’t need to say out loud what all of us knew-it sounded like a trap with our names on it. Nothing that I had done since I had arrived on the island warranted arrest, regardless of what Carnades said. However, if I got caught in his house, Carnades would have every right to toss me in prison along with my accomplices.

“We’re not going to get caught,” I said to no one in particular.

Phaelan’s grin was crooked. “Damn straight we’re not. Our family pride is at stake.”

And our heads.

Phaelan’s preferred method of theft usually involved a ship, forty cannons, and an overenthusiastic crew. As Guardians, Vegard and Herrick hadn’t been trained in the more subtle points of building entry. If a door or gate was in their way, Guardians would simply get rid it. As a seeker, I’ve had to retrieve objects or people from behind locked and warded doors or cells. I had been taught lock picking by a retired cat burglar. She was retired because she never got caught; as a result, she retired very comfortably.

The locks and wards on the delivery entrance weren’t easy to disable, but they didn’t make me break a sweat, either. That bothered me, a lot. Before turning the latch, I carefully reached out with a searching spell. No alarms, magical or otherwise, had warned anyone of our arrival. Maybe since Carnades was an arrogant jerk, he thought his reputation and position on the Seat of Twelve would protect him and his valuables. Or maybe I wasn’t good enough to sense what he had in place. Only one way to find out. I turned the latch and slowly opened the door. Nothing.

Except a stomach-turning and familiar stench.

Oh no.

Phaelan was wrong, there were people in the house. Dead people. Not just dead, butchered. There were plenty of knives in Carnades’s kitchen, but the staff had been the only ones who had tried to use them. The things that had sliced them to ribbons, eviscerated them, or both, didn’t need knives. Demons had claws, horns, and teeth. I went in, Vegard and Phaelan on my heels, then Herrick with Piaras. I forced myself not to look too closely at what was left of a cook slumped over a chopping block.

The blood was still fresh; these people had been dead an hour, probably less. I looked at Vegard, and the Guardian nodded. I felt him reaching out, careful and silent, searching for signs of life, demonic or otherwise. I did the same in the opposite direction.

Not one breath. Whatever had been here had come, killed, and gone. I got a sick feeling that had nothing to do with dead bodies. If the demons were gone, chances were good that the dagger was gone right along with them. The smart thing would be to get out of here. Now. I was smart, but I was also desperate. Vegard was looking at me, his question unspoken but obvious.

“We have to search.” I said it on an exhaled breath, audible only to those around me. If there was any chance at all that the demons didn’t find the Scythe of Nen, we had to look. We all put our weapons in our hands where they belonged.

I turned to Piaras. He was staring steadfastly ahead and breathing through his mouth. He looked down at me and nodded once, tightly.

Vegard gave Piaras the box that had held the Scythe of Nen. Piaras opened it and laid his hand flat against the velvet lining inside. Unlike myself, he didn’t get kicked across the room. Piaras looked at the lining, concentrating. Normally, closed eyes worked best for this kind of thing. I didn’t blame Piaras; I wouldn’t close my eyes in this slaughterhouse, either. After half a minute, he closed the box and gave it back to Vegard. His brown eyes were distant and focused, though not on anything the rest of us could see.