Dante Valentine

  I watched as Eddie moved in, Jace parrying strikes, low sounds of effort from both men. I watched the fight, almost feeling the wood balanced in my own hands, jagging in a breath when Eddie smacked upward, meaning to catch Jace in the face. It was a dirty move, but they were both good enough—and with two Necromances standing by, if someone caught a bad strike we were well prepared to handle it.

  Japhrimel approached me slowly. “Better?” he asked. Behind him, the sunlight coming through the windows dimmed. The clouds had arrived. That didn’t break the heat, though; it just made one more conscious of the awful humidity pressing against skin and breath.

  I don’t know why heat rose to stain my cheeks. “Yeah,” I said, glancing up at his unremarkable, saturnine face. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve seen backlash before,” he replied quietly. “The best thing for it is Power, and letting the pain pass.”

  “Thanks,” I said again. “It helps, to have someone there during—”

  Crack. Eddie’s strike wrenched Jace’s staff out of his hands. I clicked my tongue. That’s the first time I’ve seen Jace lose at staves with Eddie.

  Eddie growled. “Quit fuckin’ around and give me a fight, hoodoo! Goddammit! You ain’t no fuckin good to us distracted!”

  “Shut up, dirtwitch.” Jace snarled back. “Want to switch to blades?”

  “You’ll fuckin’ kill yourself,” Eddie scooped up Jace’s staff, tossed it at him. Jace’s hand flashed up; he caught the smooth wood, then turned it vertically. “Thanks anyway. Been a while since I saw you make an amateur move like that. Hey, Danny!” He glanced over Jace’s shoulder at me. “Come on over here and work his fidgets out, will you? Goddamn boy can’t even hold his staff.”

  I sighed. I had expected this. “Fine,” I said, shrugging. “We’d come to this sooner or later.” I looked up at the demon’s face, quiet and shuttered. “I’m going to spar with Jace. I want you to stay out of it, all right?”

  Japhrimel nodded his dark head.

  “Cool,” Gabe said, bouncing to her feet. “I’ve missed watching you two fight. Better than a holovid.”

  I ignored her. What would piss Jace off most? I thought, looking up at the demon again. A faint breeze swept through the room, carrying the promise of thunder with it. Okay.

  I stepped close to the demon, went up on tiptoe, my hand curling around his shoulder, the smell of musk and dark Power enveloping me. “Hey.” I pulled on his shoulder and he bent a little, obediently. I kissed his cheek—just a peck, but I heard Jace’s indrawn breath and knew I was halfway to winning.

  He fought better when he was angry, anyway.

  “Thanks.” I repeated to Japhrimel, whose eyes had half-closed. He looked surprised. “It helps to have someone there while I’m in pain.” My tone was a little more intimate than I’d planned. “I appreciate it.”

  He nodded once, sharply, and straightened, his gaze flicking away from me. I turned back to the practice room.

  Gabe’s jaw dropped. She sidled back, almost to the mirrored wall. Eddie followed her, watching Jace, white teeth showing in a wide grin.

  Jace walked deliberately over to a rack near the windows and put his staff up, scooped up his scabbarded sword. “I’m game for it, if Danny is,” he said quietly, and I had to fight the smile that wanted to pull my lips up. Careful, Danny. You haven’t fought him in a while, ease into this.

  I made it to the center of the room and yawned. I hadn’t even stretched out beyond my usual morning routine. Jace carried his sword, approached me cautiously, his booted feet shushing over the tatami. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, his blue eyes locking with mine. It was his usual greeting, usually followed by a kiss. My body remembered the sound of that voice. I let myself smile, then. My rings gave out a low, sustained humming.

  “You’re in for a treat,” Gabe said to the demon. “Jace and Danny are the best in the biz. They used to do naked-blade slicboard duels, back in the day. And—”

  “Shh,” Eddie said. “I wanta see this.”

  “Hi, baby,” I said quietly, holding my sword, fingers curled loosely around scabbard and hilt. “Missed me?”

  “Every damn day.” Jace’s face was set. His shoulders were loose and easy. Maybe I didn’t piss him off as much as I thought. “Every single motherfucking day.”

  “Hmm.” I smiled sweetly. “Shouldn’t have left.”

  “Didn’t have a choice,” he returned.

  We circled each other, wary. I shifted my weight forward, playing through the sequence that would end with his head separated from his body. He countered almost immediately, and we went back to circling.

  Point for him, he’d made me twitch first.

  “Yeah,” I said. “You were in such a hurry you didn’t even leave a note. Must have been really deep and hot, Jace, for you to just get up and leave.” I let my smile broaden. “What was her name?”

  “I’ve been a fucking monk since our last time, sweetheart,” he said, the easy smile dropping from his voice.

  Second point for me. I’d pushed him too far.

  “I hope it’s made you a better fighter… than you were as a lover.” I tacked that on just to goose him.

  “You had no complaints.”

  “None I told you to your face.”

  He was smiling again. He moved in, testing, and I countered.

  “When are they going to—” Eddie began. I tuned him out.

  “Wait.” Gabe replied.

  I caught a flash of Japhrimel watching, hands behind his back, his eyes almost spitting sparks.

  “Try me again, sweetheart,” Jace said, his tone low and purring. “I’ve been dying for it.”

  “Good for you.” I shuffled back, to the side; things were rapidly heating up. “Get used to disappointment.”

  “You don’t want an explanation?”

  “Three years too late, Jace. All I want to do now is forget you ever existed.” My own voice dropped to a whisper. His eyes narrowed.

  “Good luck,” he said. “I just bought myself free of the Corvin Family, sweets, and I have some time on my hands. Want to help me fill it?”

  “I’d rather turn into a Chillfreak whore.” My blade whispered free of the sheath just as his did.

  “Now?” Eddie asked.

  “Just wait,” Gabe whispered back.

  “Mmh.” Jace said. “You say the sweetest—”

  He moved in then, with no warning. Metal clashed and rang. We separated, both of us breathing fast and deep.

  “You’ve gotten quicker,” he said.

  “And you still talk too goddamn much,” I said, wishing I could spit. That would add something to the festivities.

  “I should put my tongue to better use,” he muttered, and gave me a flash of the famous Monroe grin, the one that had Mob groupies following him around all the time.

  “Try it on someone who cares, fucker,” I spat at him, and that broke the tension.

  We moved in on each other, feet shuffling, sparks spraying from the metal and the Power in the air. He wasn’t trying very hard, and I almost got him twice before he realized I was serious and began to scramble. Cut overhand, spin-kick, he tried to lock me into a corps-a-corps where his height and weight could overpower me but that was an old trick, move move move, scabbard flying in to jab him in the ribs, it was a cheap shot but every little bit told, I had speed and endurance, he had power and a different type of endurance—

  Parry, parry, a short thrust he had to shuffle back to escape, metal sliding, wall coming up fast, was I going to cheat or was I going to—

  I cheated.

  I popped my left hand forward, the scabbard held horizontal, and a dart of Power flashed from my rings, spattered on his defenses.

  We separated, both breathing hard now. It bought me some breathing room.

  “Cheater,” he said. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his hair truly soaked now. Thunder rumbled outside.

  “Anything for you,” I answered, showing my teeth. Sweat dripped down the
shallow channel of my spine. My ribs flared with deep rasping breaths. “You going to come and get me, baby?”

  “You should be so lucky,” he said. “We’re full-on now, sweetheart? You sure? Last time we did this I spanked your ass.”

  “I was holding back,” I said. “Since you always bitched when you lost.”

  He grinned. “You sure, Valentine?”

  “Come over here and find out, Monroe,” I dared him, katana dipping into guard. He was coming in low, his shielding swirling with the peculiar spiky turbulence of a Shaman, impossible to predict. I was glowing, glitter spattering through my aura; reacting to his nearness and to my own defenses springing up, locking with his.

  We closed in again, and this time he was serious. Metal screamed and Power tore through the air, ozone, smell of musk, the mark on my shoulder suddenly coming alive. Spray of sparks, he was using a pattern I didn’t recognize but muscle memory took over again and it was like riding a slicboard, trembling on the outer edge of adrenaline control, fully alive, fully aware, kiss of breeze against my sweaty forehead, clap of thunder like angels striking and neither of us flinched, spin, half-falling, get up get up, kicked his bad knee, felt the flare of sick pain from his shielding but he was too hyped on adrenaline to slow down, we closed again but I had momentum, push, Power crackling, across the room, running, his face inches from mine, eyes locked, my lips peeled back with effort, familiar, every other time we’d fought blurring under my skin, memory and intuition and action—

  Glass. Shattering. I drove him through the window, separating from him for long enough to gain footing on the stone walk outside, heavy scent of wet green air rising from the garden on the other side of the strip of stone flags. Boot soles gripping, sliding, cut overhand, he batted it away with more luck than strength. Harsh gasps of air tore at my throat. His shielding flared, trying to throw me off, I reacted without thinking, tearing Power from the air and smashing at him.

  Rain spattering against my skin, stinging-hard. Rivulets of water down Jace’s face. We were outside now, booted feet crunching in glass, the wild rain pounding on both of us, soaked to the bone and suddenly chill, breath steaming, sparks flying like water as we danced.

  Flying. I didn’t have to hold back. The rhythm of the fight changed, became insistent, no think! No think! Move! Jado-sensei screamed in my memory and I fell, landing on the wet stone scrambling, scrambling, throwing aside one of his strikes, on my feet again, whirling, his scabbard coming in, deflected, I was going to bruise there by tomorrow, didn’t care, alive, alive, see you stay that way, alive, alive—

  Thunder.

  He fell, blood striping his face, landing sprawled on the marble. My blade kissed his throat. For a moment I was tempted—push the blade in, no resistance, you can watch him bleed, watch the soul leave the body, watch the sparks fly, and then—

  “Do you give?” I asked, my voice a harsh croak. My ribs flared.

  “Of course,” he said, his eyes closed, head tipped back, throat exposed. Steel caressed the vulnerable place where his pulse beat. My hands weren’t shaking, but they were close. “Anything you want, Valentine.”

  “Stay off my case, Monroe.” I let the temptation slide away. Not today. I wouldn’t kill him today.

  Thank the gods, think of the paperwork… I sheathed my blade, suddenly aware that the rain drenched both of us, my shirt stuck to my body, my jeans chafing, boots sloshing in foaming water. I offered him my hand, still tuned to combat, watching his blade just in case.

  “Sure.” He took my hand; I hauled him up from the stone walk-turned-river. “You still look good when you fight, sweetheart.”

  I tore my fingers out of his, watched as he sheathed his sword. Both of us were bloody—scraped knuckles, a cut on his scalp, his knee, a shallow slice on my shield arm, my back on fire. “Good match,” I said grudgingly. “You’ve been practicing.”

  “So have you. That double-eight thing kicked my ass.”

  “Where’d you learn that little shuffle-trick? That’s nice.” I pushed a strand of wet hair out of my face—no matter how tightly I braided it, sometimes little bits worked free.

  “Around and about. You still do knife-work?” His hair streamed with water, dark and plastered against his forehead.

  “When the occasion calls for it.” I stepped through the shattered window. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. It’s just a window.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Goddamn, you’re good.”

  “I train with Jado almost every day when I’m not on a job.”

  “That old dragon? Chango love you, girl, no wonder you’re good.” He stepped through, shaking the water off his hair and hands, stamping his feet. That’ll foul the mats, I thought, and wondered if broken glass ground into tatami was a bad idea. Of course it is. But maybe he can afford it. “I couldn’t even get time with him. Some say he only trains women.”

  “No, there’s men too. But he says women are better. Quicker reaction time. More evil.” I found myself smiling. Adrenaline laid its thin copper taste against my palate. Now I wanted a hot bath, and I wanted sex.

  Too bad. Nobody here but unavailable men. And I don’t want to trust the local escorts.

  Jace’s hand closed around my wrist. His skin was warm, almost too warm, his shields rubbing against mine. His thumb drifted over my skin, an intimate touch. “Danny.”

  I tore my hand away again. He tried to keep it. Again. “Danny—” Again.

  “No, Jace. Forget it. That’s all you’re going to get from me.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a shame. I remember how good it used to be after a sparring session.” His eyebrow quirked a little. Even with blood running down his face—head wounds are messy—he was still beautiful. I’d always liked blonds. Maybe because I had to dye my hair to fit in with Necromance codes.

  “Well, if you hadn’t dumped me three years ago you might be a little luckier now,” I said, and turned away.

  Gabe and Eddie were watching us. Gabe’s eyes were round. Eddie’s were narrowed, and he looked about ten seconds away from a growl. He had his arm over Gabe’s shoulders; she leaned into his body as if she belonged there.

  Japhrimel stood bolt-upright, his hands behind him. His eyes were half-lidded and the smell of demon filled the entire practice room, warring with the tide of rain-washed air pouring in through the broken window. His coat smoked and fumed with darkness, a psychic stain spreading out from him.

  I don’t know if that’s really a coat, I thought, and stopped short, staring at him. What else could it be? Wings? An exoskeleton?

  Jace went utterly still beside me. “Is that it?” he asked. “You’re dating a demon?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped, and stalked away from him. “Your dick always gets the better of you, Jace, maybe you should try thinking with your brain next time. Thanks for the sparring, I needed it. Next time I’ll spar with Japhrimel—he’s a real challenge.” I was so happy with myself I used more of Jaf’s name, and sounded as if I was talking about someone else. The name fit smoothly against my tongue. Japhrimel. I wondered what it meant, and if I called him by his full name, what would happen?

  “Fucking hell—” Jace began, his voice hitting a pitch I recognized.

  He’d lost his temper.

  “That’s enough,” Gabe snapped, even though Eddie pulled back on her shoulders. The emerald in her cheek flashed, sending a spear of green light through the heavy air. “Hades, haven’t you two finished flirting? Get over it already so we can find the fucking demon and get rid of our Happy Little Pet here!”

  “Japhrimel,” I said, over the last half of her sentence, “come on. The rest of you, we’re going recon in two hours when the rain stops and it gets darker. I’ll expect you all to be ready.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s—” Gabe began. Eddie shushed at her.

  “Danny?” Jace’s voice.

  I stopped. Didn’t turn around. Japhrimel hovered near my shoulder. I hadn’t seen him blink across th
e intervening space, and that made me vaguely nervous.

  “Thanks for the sparring,” Jace said. “I love working with you.”

  “Sorry, Jace,” I answered. “It’s too late. I work alone.”

  Then I strode out of the practice room, my anger crackling on the air, hearing Jace’s awful silence behind me. I’d won both battles.

  Good for me.

  CHAPTER 27

  Japhrimel didn’t say anything until we reached the blue suite. He closed the door behind us, precisely, locking it, the defenses he’d set in the walls humming as soon as I entered the room. “That was not wise,” he said quietly. “A jealous man does not work well.”

  “Jace works better when he’s under pressure,” I said, unwinding my wet hair from its braid. “And he deserved it.” My rings lay dark and silent against my fingers now. I felt better, the headache eased out by pulling on Power from the well of the city now that my body had acclimatized, my back stopping its low-level cramping. I’d stretch out after a hot bath, and be ready for recon.

  My hands shook. I’d just faced Jace over a sword again. Three years. Three years— and he hadn’t even tried to explain yet. Just acted as if—

  I took a deep breath. I could feel the weight of Japhrimel’s green gaze on my back. Jace didn’t matter. I’d said he didn’t matter, that I didn’t care anymore. I’d sworn many times, out loud and silently, that I was over Jason Monroe. Period. End of story, end of spell, so mote it be, amen, finis.

  “Nevertheless,” Japhrimel persisted. “You should not have used me to prick his jealousy.”

  I shrugged. “It’s his problem. Not mine. My problem is finding Santino and getting that Egg back to Lucifer. Besides, he’s only human. It’s not like he can hurt you if he decides to do something stupid.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied. “But even demons understand jealousy, Dante.”

  I started to unbutton my shirt, tossing my sword on the bed. Safe enough, I thought. At least for now. “Next time I’ll spar with you. At least you’ll give me a workout.”