Demon's Quest (High Demon Series #4) Read online

  "Reah, how are you?" Neidles seated himself two stools down from Plovel.

  "Good," I said. "Are you hungry?"

  "Yes. What do we have tonight?" I passed a menu over that listed the day's specials.

  "You made beef in wine sauce?" Neidles lifted an eyebrow, no doubt calculating the cost of the wine in his head.

  "It only took four bottles and it was inexpensive," I sighed. "Is that what you want?"

  "Yes." I went to put a plate together for him. I served it with rice since potatoes were more expensive than the dried grain. It irked me that Neidles thought constantly of the bottom line instead of the quality of the food served.

  "This is good," Neidles shoved food in his mouth. He had the manners of a Harlooni pig. I didn't let him see when I rolled my eyes.

  "Reah, you may leave work early if you'd like to come walking with me," Neidles gave his mouth a perfunctory swipe before grinning at me. I wanted to cringe.

  "While that sounds tempting, I have to put the marinade together for tomorrow's fowl dish," I said. Neidles left shortly after.

  "Are we having fowl marinated in something for tomorrow?" Plovel chuckled and pushed his plate over.

  "We are now," I muttered.

  * * *

  "Do you mean to tell me that my son is cooking for the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis?" Garek stared at Erland Morphis.

  "Yes. I mean to tell you that and yes, your son is cooking for the Queen. My mate." Erland grinned. The grin alone could stop traffic at nearly any intersection.

  "Well, at least I know where he is, now. I'm sure he did that because his mother insulted her. The Queen. Your mate." Garek glared at Erland.

  "Keetha insulted Lissa?" Erland raised an eyebrow.

  "Keetha insults everybody. I've learned to accept her criticism as a compliment."

  "And what does she say about me?" Erland asked.

  "That you're ugly." Erland laughed so hard he snorted. Garek laughed, too, and slapped Erland on the back.

  "Any word on Reah?" Wylend walked in.

  "Nothing, love." Erland pulled Wylend's head to his shoulder. "But we're still looking."

  * * *

  "I think about Reah every time I make this," Ilvan dipped into his fish stew. Once he'd learned that he and Edan would be working together, they'd formed a truce of some kind, and even had good conversations. Few of those conversations involved their shared past. Ilvan was surprised that Edan was so patient now. Something had changed in his older brother, who now treated fellow employees as equals instead of hired slaves. The head cook, a man called Silmor, seldom shouted at the help—there wasn't any need for it. Ilvan found that to be a welcome change. And, after a lengthy training day, Ilvan had put Reah's recipe for fish stew together for the staff.

  "This is excellent," Silmor tasted his bowl of chowder. "We could sell this." Ilvan and Edan smiled at one another.

  * * *

  "So, they just tore down the building and put a park here." I surveyed the playground equipment. It needed paint and upkeep, in my opinion. Pipes were rusting and swing seats needed to be replaced.

  "Probably hauled dirt in from somewhere," Plovel agreed. Our morning had begun extremely early—the sun was barely up and the spring winds were cold that blew across Grithis. I would have to go back and start the breakfast menu. Neither of my helpers had progressed enough to handle a meal on their own.

  "I'm surprised they bothered. The way things are with the current politicians, they'd have left the concrete slab and let the children play on that." The more I saw of Grithis' government, the more I hoped the people would rise up and topple it.

  "They had to bring in something—All these buildings have basements." Plovel pointed to the other buildings still standing on either side. "It had to be filled in and capped before the dirt is spread over it. That's standard across the planet."

  "Ah." Still, I was surprised they bothered. "I wish I could stay but I have to open the restaurant. Good luck." I patted Plovel's arm and turned to go back to the inn.

  I spent the rest of the day cooking and working the restaurant, only noticing while I was closing up that Plovel hadn't come in for the evening meal. He always did that, just to check in if nothing else. That had me worried.

  "Have you seen Plovel?" I asked after I locked the restaurant, finding Neidles right behind me.

  "Seen him? Not recently. I'll tell you where he is if you'll come to my suite." Rat-faced Neidles had done something and my breath caught in my throat.

  "You'll tell me where he is now, and I'll not be coming to your suite, now or ever." I always carried my knife with me. Always. That knife was now at Neidles' throat and he was staring at me, frightened out of his wits.

  "I had him arrested," his voice quavered, but that didn't keep the contempt out of it. "I've seen you two together. Don't think for a tick that I'd let that happen."

  "Why was he arrested? Why?" I backed Neidles against the wall. "So help me, if they've harmed him, I'll cut your balls off." I hissed the threat at him, standing on tiptoe so my face would be in his.

  "I-I told the authorities I saw him take a ch-child."

  "You fucking moron," I snapped. "Find another cook, Neidles. We're done." If that didn't shock him enough, my skipping away certainly did.

  * * *

  "No one is allowed to see the prisoner," I was told by a constabulary officer every bit as loathsome as Neidles. Perhaps worse.

  "You mean nobody sees him who doesn't pay first," I hissed. "Where is he?" I held back from gripping his throat in my hands.

  "In the cell around the corner." The man was smiling now—he thought I was about to offer a bribe. He was dressed in a wrinkled uniform and sported oily brown hair. His eyes were washed-out blue, his mouth narrow.

  "You disgust me," I snapped at him and skipped away. I heard his scream even as I appeared inside Plovel's cell. They'd beaten Plovel already—he had a black eye and a broken nose. His clothing was dirty, too, as if he'd been knocked into the dirt several times.

  "Reah?" Plovel sat dejectedly on a rusty bunk that had no mattress. How anyone was supposed to sleep on that was beyond my comprehension.

  "Plovel, can you stand?" I asked.

  "I think so, why?"

  "Because I'm getting you out of here. We have to hurry." I grabbed his hand and helped him up—I could hear shouting and running feet as I placed my shoulder beneath Plovel's arm and skipped away.

  * * *

  "Where's your office—where you work, Plovel?" I'd skipped us to the capital city of United Bardelus. It was called Bardelus Prime, for the Prime Minister.

  "What? How did we get here?" Plovel peered around him, confused. "Am I dreaming?"

  "No, hon. Tell me where to take you. I think you need help."

  "Office on Lawgiver Street," he muttered. I had to ask three people who passed us before I got good directions. Skipping is only an exact science if I know precisely where I want to go. I did the best I could with what I had to work with.

  "Where's your office?" Plovel's feet were dragging and I was taking much of his weight as we walked across marble tiles toward an elevator.

  "Third floor. Anybody there will help," his speech was slurred. They'd hurt him worse than I thought.

  "All right." I didn't bother with the elevator; I took him directly to the third floor by skipping. As soon as we got inside a reception area, people were shouting and calling for medical assistance.

  * * *

  "This may be the armpit of this section of the galaxy," Gavril muttered, looking around him. Lendill had given coordinates on where the children were disappearing. Gavril, Astralan and Stellan had brought Lendill along to look for their quarry.

  "You think we need a place to stay, boss? There's an inn over there." Astralan jerked his head toward a two-story hotel that looked less run-down than its surroundings.

  "Sure. We'll see if they have rooms and then we'll ask questions," Gavril agreed. There didn't seem to be anyplace that might meet
his expectations as far as places to stay went.

  "He looks like a rat," Stellan muttered to his oldest brother as Gavril approached the front desk and the clerk who stood behind it.

  "We need two rooms with two beds each," Gavril said.

  "I have two that just came open; I'll move in the extra beds right away," the clerk replied. "That will be one hundred silvers per room each night."

  "Out of the question," Gavril snapped. "You will take fifty for each room and you will tell me anything you know about the child disappearances and any other criminal activity that you know of." Compulsion dripped from his voice, causing the clerk to go blank-eyed immediately.

  * * *

  "Harm Reah," Plovel's words were forced, "I'll fire all of you." That caused the female agent to take her hands from my arm. Did she think I'd done this to Plovel? Why would I haul him in if I'd beaten him? Some people just didn't think in times of crisis.

  "He needs medical attention now," I snapped. Someone was already communicating on a comp-vid. I rode with Plovel to a nearby hospital, too, along with three agents.

  "What happened? He didn't say we couldn't question you," the female agent said as Plovel was hauled into an emergency ward.

  "The constabulary in Grithis happened, after some moron said Plovel had something to do with the child disappearances," I said.

  "That's eight hundred clicks away," she scoffed.

  "I'm not local," I said. "I can get around quickly if I must."

  "I don't believe you. You're involved in this."

  "Sure, and the moon is made of yogurt," I said, grabbing her arm and skipping right back to Grithis. "See—they're still having a fit over his disappearance." We stood outside the constable's station in the moonlight, staring at the window of Plovel's cell. I could see the shadows of people still milling around inside it. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer not to stay here." I took her arm and skipped her back to the hospital.

  "How did you do that?" The agent stared at me, just as the two men we'd left behind were also staring. They'd seen us disappear and reappear.

  "Do you have your head buried in the sand all the time? You should know that some races are capable of this."

  "Yes, but, none of them ever come here," she said.

  "I'm here now. And I want to know if Plovel is getting good care." I walked up to the reception desk. I heard all three agents whispering furiously behind me as I asked the aide what was happening.

  "He won't let us treat him until he speaks with someone named Reah," a nurse or assistant walked toward us.

  "That's me." I was led into a treatment room.

  "Reah, it's underground. They didn't fill it in. Those children are under the playground." Plovel was gripping my wrist so hard it hurt. "I was looking for the entrance when I was arrested."

  "I should have killed Neidles," I muttered. "Will you be all right?"

  "I've been worse."

  "I'll go back," I said, and skipped away, no doubt causing medical personnel to gasp.

  * * *

  Of course, it was still dark and I was wearied as I stared at the deserted playground. Is this why the children said it was haunted and they could hear someone crying? The sound traveling upward, somehow? I began walking the perimeter of the grass that outlined the play area. If there was an entrance, it was hidden well—I walked around it three times without finding anything. There was one way I might deal with this, although I was trusting what Plovel told me and skipping in blind. Just as a precaution, I went in as my smaller Thifilatha.

  * * *

  "We're sorry, the food is usually better. I think Neidles fired the cook," a harried Nari informed the newest guests. Four men had come, all looking much too wealthy to be there, she thought, as she served sandwiches and bowls of soup.

  "It's all right," Gavril reassured the girl, who seemed close to tears for some reason.

  "No, it's not all right—I was learning so much from Reah, and now Neidles has chased her off." She wiped tears away, then stared at Gavril as he dropped the spoon into his soup bowl.

  "Describe her," Lendill demanded while Gavril struggled to find his voice.

  "This tall, long white hair," Nari held a hand up at the proper height.

  "What happened? Do you know where she went?" Astralan asked.

  "No. Stupid Neidles kept saying he was going to force her to go to bed with him. I guess she told him off and he fired her."

  "I'll kill him," Gavril's hands clenched into fists. He was rising from his seat to go in search of the proprietor when the explosion occurred.

  * * *

  The old basement had been wired against intruders, and the ones who'd captured and held the prisoners folded away somehow—I saw flashes of light, six to be exact, while ducking debris and shrapnel as it flew toward me. My scales are very hard while I am Thifilatha—it was what saved my life. If I'd been in my normal form, I might have died. Speaking from experience, only Ranos technology can effectively pierce my scales.

  Children, locked inside cages and abandoned, were now screaming and crying while I straightened up. I'd been correct earlier; the authorities hadn't bothered to fill in the basement. They'd capped it to make it look as though it had been filled in, but it was hollow and empty beneath the playground until the kidnappers had located it and used it for their own purposes.

  I knew what had caused those six flashes of light, too—no High Demon would ever be fooled by that filth. Ra'Ak. They were feeding off the children of Grithis. Most likely with human assistance. I stumbled over debris and jerked open cage doors, carefully lifting out seven children and skipping them aboveground. I heard sirens and knew I needed to leave—the culprits were long gone—who knew where they might go next?

  "Who's there?" A voice shouted. The children began to weep louder. I skipped away.

  * * *

  "Tell him it was the worst kind of monsters, feeding on children," I passed the comp-vid to the female agent. "He has the code to get into it—I left information here for him." I tapped the comp-vid. "I'm going to attempt to follow that filth. They need to be destroyed."

  "But where will they go? I can send agents out if I have some idea." She was begging me to tell her something.

  "I don't think they'll stay on Bardelus. I think they're long gone from here," I said. "I saw them. They won't want to remain here if they know I know about them." I didn't say that any Ra'Ak was afraid of a High Demon. Ra'Ak held no power against a High Demon. I'd already killed several. They wouldn't wait to see whether I intended harm or not. That was a given. "I only found seven children alive," I added.

  "Thank you for your help," she said.

  "Tell Plovel to get in touch via comp-vid—he has my code," I said, and skipped away.

  There wasn't any need to go back to the inn—I figured Neidles had already sold my belongings for what they might fetch, the rat-faced asshole. I skipped straight to Beliphar instead.

  * * *

  "Where are her belongings?" Gavril gripped Neidles's shirt in his fingers. He and the others had arrived at the blasted playground in time to see Reah disappear. Gavril and Lendill had both cursed, long and hard, while Astralan and Stellan rounded up frightened children and turned them over to the authorities. Gavril knew by scent alone that the Strands were in league with Ra'Ak. Lendill was on his comp-vid immediately, putting up bulletins across the Alliance regarding the dangers they might be facing. Gavril was placing compulsion on Neidles again, to learn what he could about Reah and to get her things back.

  "I have her things," Neidles voice was flat.

  "You will give them to me." They followed Neidles to his suite, where all of Reah's clothing and such had been gathered. The two warlocks lifted the bag and boxes. "If you ever bother Reah again, I'll kill you," Gavril promised, before nodding to Astralan, who folded all of them to Campiaa.

  * * *

  I slept for the better part of three days. I had no idea how tired I really was. Meals were the only thing I climbed out of b
ed for—nothing else gathered my attention. On the morning of the fourth day, Nefrigar was sitting on the side of my bed when I woke.

  "Hello, honey blue," I rubbed my eyes to bring him into focus. He smiled. "Are you acting as my agent?" I asked. "You show up every time I don't have anything else to do."

  "Is that what an agent does?" He stood when I slipped off the bed and followed me into the kitchen.

  "They find work for their clients," I nodded, putting the kettle on for tea. "But they usually take a percentage. Well, even if you did, the percentage wouldn't be much, Neidles didn't pay a fair wage." I put tea in the pot while waiting for the water to heat.

  "I have no need of wealth or currency." He leaned against the counter and watched me work. I sliced bread and placed it under the broiler. Toast sounded just as good as anything else for breakfast. Food was running out—I would have to restock the kitchen.

  "What do you need?" I looked up at him.

  "Something that keeps my interest," he was smiling again.

  "Ah. I'm the new toy."

  "Toy?"

  "Something to play with."

  "That sounds as if you believe I might lose interest, or use you for frivolous reasons."

  "Yeah. I guess that's right," I sighed, pulling my toast out of the oven.

  "Little one, I do not believe that will happen. I came to tell you that a position opened up on Tulgalan in a new restaurant. They are searching for an Eight-Day cook. This might be a good position to hold while you search for the ones who fled Bardelus."

  He could be right—an Eight-Day cook was the cook who worked one day per Tulgalanian week, so the others could have the day off. At times, Eight-Day cooks had specific specialties they served for the midday and evening meals—Tulgalani loved to take their families out to eat on Eight-Day. With seven days left to hunt the filth feeding off children, it could be an ideal situation. "It pays well," Nefrigar added.

  "It'll have to—I'll be forced to rent something to stay there."

  "You will do fine," Nefrigar waited until I finished my meager breakfast before folding me to Targis.

  * * *

  Using one of my credit chips, I rented a cube. The cube was actually a rectangle—most of them were, but the slang term was used all the time. My apartment was only one room, with a tiny kitchen on one end, a bed on the other, with a microscopic sitting area in between.