Demon Revealed (High Demon #2)(47)
Author: Connie Suttle

"You’ve never seen her handle a ranos rifle," Arvil lifted his glass to drink. "We’ve dealt with demons on several worlds. Most people can’t see the f**kers coming in the dark. The wizards can. Reah can, too. And she doesn’t miss when she shoots, like some of my wizards." Arvil was tipsy or he’d never have revealed that information. He generally didn’t want anyone to know that his wizards had weaknesses. "She saved my life the first time we took her out—the demons stepped up their attack and headed right for me. Her gun was empty so she kicked one, hit another in the head with the butt of her gun and punched a third. She moved so fast I couldn’t even follow it."

"I wouldn’t have believed it if we hadn’t seen her throw the good physician against the wall," Wilffin snorted at the mental image.

"I think I chose well, and she and Teeg will work beside me for years to come," Arvil drained his glass. "You’ve seen how fiercely she protects me and mine."

"Full moon tonight. Please to come with us," Farzi said later, after dinner had been served. I’d cooked, adding enough for ten extra plates—in case Grish’s appetite hadn’t disappeared. He was glowering as he was driven to the table, but the moment he tasted the fowl I’d prepared, I think he forgot everything else in favor of the food.

"Now you see what a master cook can do," Wilffox had raised his glass to me. I wasn’t a master cook—hadn’t taken the exams to qualify. Wilffox didn’t seem to mind.

"Where are we going?" I asked Farzi. Ry and Tory lifted eyebrows at my words. They hadn’t been invited.

"Out—near fields," Farzi flung out an arm.

"I’ll come," I nodded. Farzi was trusting me with something. I was going to find out what it was. I’ll be fine, I sent to Tory, who looked a bit concerned. That’s how I ended up dressing in the black leathers I’d brought with me and trooping toward the fields with Farzi, Nenzi and the six other reptanoids.

"We tell our story, then show you. We hope to keep trust," Farzi settled on the ground underneath some citrus trees. They’d been harvested already and the new fruit hadn’t begun to grow yet.

"All right," I nodded to Farzi. This was important to him, I could tell.

"We were made. Not born—made," Farzi began. "DNA with egg." He gestured with his hands. I nodded—his birth had been manipulated. Probably grown in a pod—some parents chose that if they didn’t or couldn’t conceive a child the normal way. "We have one father." Well, one sperm donor, I think was what he meant.

"He was shapeshifter." That I hadn’t really guessed at—I thought perhaps the eggs had been from reptiles of some sort. Now I was learning that wasn’t the case. I nodded, though—Farzi hadn’t lost me yet, or upset me in any way.

"Did you know him—your father?"

"No. Others take his seed to make us. They want someone like him. We not exact," Farzi explained. "Eyes different. Other things—different. Some things are same. Many of us, in beginning. Now, only eight." Farzi looked sad at that statement.

"You lost some of your brothers." I rubbed his back.

"And all sisters. Only seven of those in beginning. All gone, now."

"I’m sorry, Farzi."

"The ones who make us become afraid. Someone hunting them. And us. They sell us to Master Arvil. He place chips." Farzi pointed to a spot on his chest. Arvil had implanted location chips on the reptanoids, just as others did for their pets or children. Farzi could never escape Arvil San Gerxon. No wonder Arvil sent them off with barely a thought. He could find them again if they ever thought to run.

"So, they used you. Then sold you to Arvil, so he could do the same."

"Yes. You are exact. But on full moon, we do as our father did. He have to turn, Reah. We have to turn. But we still know who is friend when we turn. We do not harm. Enemy—we know them, too." I blinked at Farzi. I knew what he was saying and I wasn’t about to argue. I nodded my understanding.

"We like Reah to come," Nenzi spoke up.

"I’ll come along for you, Nenzi." I might not have for any of the rest of Arvil’s crew, but I would for these. There was an honor of some sort that the reptanoids held, and I had no problem going with them.

We all stood, and one by one, with moonlight shining down upon them, each reptanoid became what their father had been before them, a lion snake shapeshifter. I wondered if Norian Keef knew what they were. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t their parent—that one had knowingly allowed their creation, even if he’d not given his children any of his time afterward. I think they missed that—having a parent. I knew that feeling. Perhaps that’s why I felt close to them. The largest—Farzi—was around fourteen hands in length, the others varying in size with Nenzi being the shortest at around eleven hands. I gathered their clothing, placed it in a neat pile and followed behind them as they slithered toward Grish’s plantation.

The house was quiet—there was only one guard posted outside Grish’s suite. Seven lion snakes and I held back, watching as Nenzi crawled up the door facing until he looped himself around the first of a series of light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. All was dark inside the hallway; the guard might have thought to look upward, otherwise. An open transom window lay above Grish’s bedroom door; Nenzi used that to crawl inside.

We waited. Nenzi came back half a click later, retracing his path. His lion snake dropped silently onto the floor and we crept outside again. I followed the reptanoids that night as they hunted prey—capturing rodents, sleeping birds and other snakes. I didn’t turn my head away while they swallowed their meal whole. I thought it was important that they knew I didn’t find them repulsive. A few clicks before dawn, they returned to our original gathering place, regained their humanoid shape and dressed.

The same physician I’d tossed against the wall the day before pronounced heart failure as the cause of Grish’s death and got away from the plantation as quickly as he could. He probably thought the warlocks had done it and didn’t want to tangle with any of them. Nenzi had been discreet—when I went in with the others to check on Grish, I didn’t see any sign of bite marks anywhere.

Several more of Grish’s assistants died before the morning was out, after they attempted to argue with Arvil over who now owned Grish’s lands. Arvil and the warlocks won. Arvil shot two; three others were fried by Celestan, I think. Ry, Tory, the reptanoids and I took a long walk while that argument took place. When we returned, it was to see Grish’s remaining servants driving away in one of the hoverbuses kept at the plantation.