Demon’s King (High Demon #3)(3)
Author: Connie Suttle

"I haven’t seen you here before." The bartender slid the fresh drink across to me, accompanied by two napkins and a dish of mixed nuts. The drunk beside me had his hand in the bowl before I could decide whether I was hungry. Now I wasn’t about to touch it.

"Just got here today," I sighed. "Came here to meet a friend, but he hasn’t arrived yet." I was lying to the bartender, but it might keep his interest at a minimum. He seemed nice—the bartender, that is. I got his kind of attention a lot. If I could have disguised myself, I would have. Ry could put a disguise on anyone without blinking. Except a High Demon—if they didn’t want one. I didn’t want one. I could have worn a wig and makeup, but wigs made my head itch and makeup made me feel as if I had hotcake batter glued to my face. I hated it. Lendill knew not to send me anywhere that required anything of the sort. Therefore, everyone saw me as I was.

I dressed terribly most of the time while on assignment—people tended to stay away if you looked destitute or crazy. Not tonight—I had my black leathers on. Mid-summer had come and it was hot on Kareed, so the top was sleeveless and laced up the front. The pants were tight except around my boots—I had another knife and a small pistol hidden there. Kareed allowed weapons, if they were worn on the outside in full view. I was breaking Kareedan law with what I had in my boots. Of course, I was breaking Kareedan law just by being there. They didn’t allow Alliance citizens to set foot on Kareedan soil. Probably why Zellar had chosen the planet to begin with.

Zellar walked in while I was sipping my drink and eating the stalk of celery the bartender had planted in it. A young couple came in right behind him. The situation couldn’t have been more ideal.

"There he is, that cheating scum. I should have known he was seeing someone else." I muttered my accusation loud enough for the bartender to hear. I slapped several Kareedan marks down on the bar and went to follow the couple who walked right behind Zellar.

We rode up the elevator together—Zellar hadn’t chosen a seedy hotel. He’d paid for the best. I wondered if he were currently working for someone or living off funds gained from past jobs. The couple got off the lift before I did. Zellar allowed me to get off the elevator first on the next floor. I’d gotten a room on the same floor; I’d flirted with the desk clerk to do it but it had gotten me what I wanted.

The rooms on the fourth and top floor were huge, the doors facing a bank of windows on the opposite side of the hall. I slipped my key card into the slot two doors down from Zellar’s room and went inside, putting my back to the door when it closed and listening carefully for Zellar’s door to shut. When it did, I was out of my room like a rocket and kicking his door in. What happened next I didn’t have any explanation for. Not until later, anyway.

* * *

Lendill, Tory and Aurelius watched the pirated vid-feed in horror. The hotel where Reah was staying had been bombed. At the moment, only Lendill knew where Reah had gone and that the room where the blast originated had been Zellar’s. Assignments were generally kept secret from the others, unless they were on the same assignment. None of them had been able to reach Reah through mindspeech after the blast.

Journalists were saying it was a ranos grenade. Aurelius placed an arm around Tory’s shoulders—Tory was sitting, Aurelius standing. Gardevik burst into the room. Tory stood and went to his father. Aurelius sat in Tory’s vacated chair with a sigh of disbelief.

"Just one blow after another." Norian Keef, Director of the ASD walked in. "Do we have any agents in the area? Lendill?" Norian grabbed Lendill’s arm.

"Two," Lendill had to bring himself back from the horror he was seeing on the vid-screen. "I’ve already sent them. They’ll have something for us soon."

"Let me know as quickly as you can. Do you need something? Anything?"

"I need to know that Reah is safe," Lendill choked up.

* * *

"Do this first." I barely understood the words; I was in too much pain. There was more—a sharp stabbing pain in my collarbone. What were they doing to me? I couldn’t see; something covered my eyes. "Now," the voice was soft as it continued, "normal painkill and anesthetic won’t have much effect. Don’t give too much—it could harm her."

"But she has broken bones. Her ribs are crushed, three vertebrae are cracked, one leg is broken in two places, the other leg in one. One arm broken, one not. Skull fractures—honestly, I have no idea how she still lives." That was a second voice, talking with the first voice. I moaned.

"Make sure she stays alive," the first voice said. "I’ll help this time." Fingers touched—cool against my forehead—followed by pain-free darkness.

Fever came with my next waking. I must have been restrained—I couldn’t move. That frightened me, even in my feverish state. I was too weak and in too much pain to struggle much. I still couldn’t see and knew somehow I’d been blindfolded. Somebody didn’t want me to see anything. They wanted me to live; I remembered that from the previous waking, but little else. Who had me? They couldn’t be friendly; I realized that, even in my impaired condition. Pain bloomed with my agitated movement.

"Shhhh," fingers against my hot forehead. Darkness came. Again.

* * *

A slight sound woke me next. I still couldn’t move or see. I must have made some sort of noise—the second voice was back. "Only changing the bag, pretty girl. We have to feed you, you know."

What had they done? Placed a feeding tube? How bad off was I? I moaned. "I didn’t mean to upset you. Just stay calm, all right? Gods, you’re so beautiful." I felt a tugging around my torso—second voice was cleaning the area around the tube and placing a fresh dressing. I wanted to weep. I wanted him to take off the f**king blindfold. I wanted to be anywhere except where I was.

Could I send mindspeech? How could I tell Tory, Lendill or Aurelius where I was? Auri? I sent. Tory? Lendill? Only silence met my weakened sendings and I failed to get any response. The effort, too, was taking its toll. Second voice continued his ministrations—he was bathing me now, his hands expertly wiping my body with a warm, soapy cloth. My ribs and the surrounding area were so tender I wanted to scream when I was washed there. "It’ll be over soon—over soon," the voice crooned. Could I trust that voice? He’d left me blindfolded—I couldn’t. I didn’t even try to speak to him. He might ask questions and I was in no shape to keep him from getting what he wanted—all he had to do was exert a little pressure against my aching ribs. My breathing became ragged as he worked; pain was waking all over my body. The singsong "It’ll be over soon," came again. I whimpered and endured it.