The Stone Demon Page 5

  “I know.”

  “And they’re still all trying to hide the truth about me. About what I might be able to do with this power inside me.”

  “They’re afraid,” he said. “That’s all.”

  “It hurts, Xan,” she admitted quietly, and he had to struggle to hear. “Sometimes, it felt like Maker was the only one in the Order of the Dragon who was truly on my side.”

  “What about Quentin?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed, and he could almost swear he felt it vibrate through the cell phone pressed against his ear. “Sometimes. Maybe. I love Quentin, sort of like a grandfather, there’s no doubt about that. But he’s with Simon.”

  “The guy clearly has excellent taste,” Xan said, totally deadpan.

  She laughed. “Right.”

  Xan thought about Simon Gaunt and felt his whole body tense with dislike. The guy was a fucking snake. A man who summoned and trapped demons, then blamed Donna for the current threat posed by her mistake in opening the door to Hell. How many of the alchemists knew that the Magus had the essence of a minor demon trapped inside a bronze statue in his laboratory?

  He leaned forward and checked the time on the dashboard. “Hey, I have to go.”

  “It’s okay. This is probably costing you a fortune.”

  “Rich dad, remember? He still helps me out.”

  “I didn’t think you guys talked much.”

  He thought about that for a moment. His adoptive father was a distant man—which was putting it kindly. Sometimes he wondered why his human parents had even adopted him, what with his mother being back in England since the divorce. They really didn’t talk much. None of them did.

  “We don’t,” he said. “But he must feel guilty on some level, because he’s pretty generous with his money.”

  Money was the answer to most of Charles Grayson’s problems. Xan just wished that his father didn’t see him as simply another problem to be solved in his busy life. Not that it should matter now, anyway—now that Xan was old enough to do what he wanted. If he even knew what that was.

  Filling the aching hole inside him would be a pretty good start. All he wanted was the chance to recover what he’d lost: the life he never had the chance to know. It was all gone, now, and the only thing he had left were the scars on his back.

  He said goodbye to Donna, knowing she was still unhappy with him for how secretive he was being. Xan couldn’t blame her for that.

  He just hoped that she’d forgive him.

  That night, Donna had another of the unsettling lucid dreams that were becoming a regular feature in her life. Ever since her powers had been unbound last fall, her dreams were becoming something she was witnessing rather than experiencing. And yet, at the same time, she knew it was herself in the dreams. She was a participant even as she watched herself, a shadow Donna, gliding through her mind like a ghost …

  She walks through hallways and more hallways. There is no end, just straight lines going on and on into the dark. No windows. No doors.

  No way out.

  She finally reaches a corner. She feels excited that something has finally changed in her surroundings—she knows that what she is about to see must be very important, something that might help her to solve the riddle of demons in this world.

  Demian whispers to her, a shadowy presence with impossible stony wings half-unfurled against his shoulders. They move and shimmer with a life of their own.

  “Look,” he says. “All the ghosts are dancing in the ballroom.”

  And she looks at where he’s pointing and sees that he’s right—there are indeed ghosts gliding across the polished obsidian floor. Strange shadows flicker around the edges of the room. Her father is there among the dancers, but he doesn’t see her, even when she calls out to him. Donna draws closer, trying to move around the revelers, but each time she takes a step somebody gets in her way. The sound of music and laughter fills her ears. She tries to get her father’s attention by screaming, waving her arms, anything to pull his gaze around. But he dances on by with a serene expression on his face. The woman in his arms is not her mother.

  The woman in his arms is not even human.

  Patrick Underwood hasn’t changed at all—he looks just the same as he did when she last saw him ten years ago. He wraps his arms more tightly around the monster he dances with, resting his head on her bony shoulder.

  The woman stares directly at Donna and smiles with a mouth full of blood-stained teeth. Her eyes are strange … in-human. The pupils are shaped like hourglasses, and sand is slipping through them like tears.

  “We all die,” the woman says. “That’s the secret of life.”

  “Wait,” Donna whispers, because her voice isn’t working right after all that screaming. “What do you mean?”

  But the monstrous woman just dances away, spinning Patrick around and around until Donna feels dizzy from watching.

  She tries to wake herself up, because she knows that she is dreaming.

  “We all die. That’s the secret of life.” The words seem to echo inside her head for a very long time and the sands keep falling, but even then she can’t wake up.

  She wonders if she ever will.

  Five

  Donna sat up in bed, feeling her heart race and listening to the clatter of an early morning trash collection in the street. “Dustbin men,” as they called them over here. She tried to focus on the sound of ordinary life outside, tried to let it seep into her consciousness and bring her back from the bright terror of the nightmare. Words of death lingered on the edge of her memory. A warning.

  She rubbed her cold arms and looked across the bedroom that still didn’t feel like hers, letting her gaze fall on the elegant, full-length black satin evening gown that now hung on the outside of her huge oak wardrobe. Miranda certainly worked fast. And although Donna might have liked to shop for the dress herself, having never before had the opportunity to pick out a ball gown, it was hardly a priority.

  Quietly crossing the room, she slipped into the dress. It had an off-the-shoulder cut and fell in graduated folds to her ankles, the satin material shining like polished onyx. It made her feel very grown up, even though she wished there was more color in the outfit. Well, I can fix that with my favorite pairs of gloves, she thought with a slight smile. She didn’t see any evidence that they’d bought her a mask. Of course, Miranda had said not to worry—it was all “under control.” That wasn’t very reassuring, but hopefully they wouldn’t get her anything too crazy.

  Somebody knocked at her door.

  “Donna, are you up?” Miranda called. “Your training session with Robert is still on for today. And then I’ll need your help in the library. Somebody appears to have damaged the antiquarian cabinet, and I have to reset the wards … ”

  Donna grimaced. Oh, that. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, Miranda,” she called. At least helping her mentor would keep her mind off whatever was coming her way tonight. And she could also make amends for breaking into the private collection of alchemical texts. Miranda obviously knew it was her, but she was being amazingly cool about the whole incident. She certainly handled breaking-and-entering better than Simon Gaunt did.

  Gazing at her elegant silhouette in the mirror, Donna tried not to think too much about what Demian had meant when he’d said she would be an important part of “negotiations.” She was way past tired of being used as a pawn in games she didn’t understand—didn’t want to understand. The ball loomed ahead of her like a storm threatening the sky.

  The only positive part about the upcoming event was that she might actually get to see her mother. Donna didn’t know how Demian intended to bring everybody together in such a short space of time, but he could probably just snap his fingers.

  And there was definitely something specific that the Demon King wanted, something far greater than he was letting on. Demian was fu
ll of trickery, of course, but Donna suspected he was after something that only the alchemists could give him. And from what he’d said during their encounter last night, she felt pretty sure that she was somehow part of it.

  This slice of knowledge filled her with sickly dread. She did her best to push it out of her mind, but that was an impossible task. At least she’d find out the answer soon—which wasn’t exactly a comforting thought, either.

  But right now she was late for yet another training session with Robert Lee, and she didn’t want to give him an excuse to be any tougher on her than usual. Donna changed into some comfortable clothes, hastily tied her hair back, and ran downstairs to meet him.

  Donna hit the mat hard, biting her tongue in the process. Tears of pain burned her eyes, but she blinked them away fast.

  “Holy crap,” she said, tasting blood in her mouth. “You’re like a ninja.”

  Robert put his hands on his hips and gave her a look that clearly meant she was a moron. “Ninjas are Japanese,” he said. “I’m half Chinese. There’s a difference, you know.”

  “I know. I was just kidding.”

  “L O L,” he deadpanned.

  “Sorry,” Donna said, feeling bad for making such a dumb joke. “Help me up and we’ll try again.”

  “Sure.” Robert grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, but he didn’t stop there. He sort of twisted his body to the side—still pulling—and then flipped her over his hip so she went crashing down again. She wound up on her hands and knees, gasping for breath.

  “Oops,” he said. “I put a little bit too much into that one. You okay, Donna?” He held out a hand to haul her up, concern warring with amusement on his face.

  “Aren’t you supposed to call me Initiate Underwood?” Donna asked, pleased that her voice sounded steady despite how winded she felt. She supposed she deserved that particular move, so she didn’t complain that he’d totally tricked her. She took Robert’s hand and allowed him to drag her back on her feet. This time, he gave her time to recover.

  Learning to fight was tougher than it looked on TV, but after encountering the demon shadows in the Ironwood, she’d promised herself—and Robert—that she’d put in the work. She needed to discover how to bring her unique abilities into the process.

  Of course, she hadn’t expected Robert to be so hard on her, today of all days. Usually he gave her time to react as she reached for her newly awakened powers, but today he’d decided they’d try something a bit different. “Just in case it comes in handy during the coming apocalypse,” he said, almost cheerfully. “You’re doing really well with the magical stuff. Let’s see what you’re made of when the fight comes at you fast. Will you still be able to access the first matter and bend steel bars with your bare hands?”

  Donna almost smiled, despite her aching shoulders and sore backside. Robert was kicking her ass way too easily right now, considering he’d only gotten out of the hospital a couple of weeks ago, not to mention how naturally strong she was. The guy was determined, she’d give him that. And determination was something she could relate to—kind of like the single-minded focus she’d used to save her mother’s soul. Even if she had ended up falling right into Aliette’s trap.

  It was so obvious with the gift of hindsight, Donna thought. She wasn’t surprised that the alchemists weren’t letting her off the hook so easily, and for once she could hardly blame them. Even Simon Gaunt.

  Robert stood in a “ready” posture. “Again?”

  At least he was making it a question. Donna wondered what would happen if she said, “Actually, could we just forget this for the day and maybe go get a coffee?”

  “Again,” she replied.

  Robert moved toward her, his willowy frame giving him a huge advantage in height and reach, and leaving her enhanced strength all but useless. Just because she could “bend steel bars,” as Robert put it, didn’t mean she was good at fighting. Even after three weeks she had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

  Stepping back, Donna tried to “hold her center” as he’d taught her, maintaining her balance while being ready to dodge or parry his attack.

  She almost tripped over her own feet, and Robert struck at her right shoulder with his right hand, across her body. It wasn’t a hard blow—he was aiming to demonstrate ways that she could deflect an attack, whether a punch or a grab of some kind—but still, instinctively, she tried to backpedal instead of using the defensive block he’d been trying to drill into her without much success. Just stepping away from the strike was a big mistake.

  Robert flicked out a long leg and swept it behind the one foot she currently had anchored to the floor—

  —and down she went.

  “Shit!” Donna pounded the bright red mat with her fist, forgetting to control her strength. Despite how padded the training mats were, she managed to leave behind a clear imprint of her fist. The mat would probably never recover, but at least the floor beneath was intact. Small mercies, she thought.

  Robert raised his eyebrows. “Considering that the floor didn’t do anything to you, that seems a little extreme.”

  Donna pulled a face. “Better the floor than you.”

  “Why didn’t you do that to me? Or at least,” he added, “try to do that to me. It would have made a far better defense than just falling over.”

  “Ha, ha.” Donna pulled off her glove and examined her knuckle.

  “Donna, are you sure you’re okay?” Robert actually did sound worried this time.

  “I’m fine,” she replied briskly, pulling the glove back on and hiding the flash of silver tattoos.

  “Phew. I thought I was going to have to make some kind of rubbish joke about how the gloves were coming off for the next round.”

  Donna laughed. “When the gloves come off, Adept Lee, you’ll know about it.”

  Robert nodded approvingly as he sat beside her, crossing his long legs. “I like this new Donna Underwood.”

  “‘New’? What’s so new about me?” She searched his face to see if he was teasing her, but he looked completely serious.

  “Ever since you came here—to the Order of the Crow, I mean—you’ve seemed different. More self-assured than in Ironbridge. It’s good to see.”

  Donna half smiled, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “I don’t feel more self-assured.”

  He laughed. “Trust me. I can see it in your eyes. In the way you carry yourself.”

  “You’d think I’d be less confident, given my release of the demon hordes.”

  “Why is it so hard for you to believe in yourself?” Robert touched her shoulder, taking her by surprise. “You were brave, and you did your best under the worst possible circumstances. Seriously, you’re way too hard on yourself.”

  She let out a long breath and met his dark eyes. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For being the only person—apart from my mom—who hasn’t rubbed my nose in what I did.”

  “What would be the point in that? What’s done is done. It’s how we react to the new status quo that counts.”

  “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me to trust my feelings … ”

  Robert smiled a confused sort of smile. “Okay, now what film are you referencing?”

  She grinned. “Please don’t tell me you don’t recognize it.”

  “I was never allowed to watch movies as a kid. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do, now that my dad’s gone back to China.”

  “Dude. We’re totally watching Star Wars together.”

  “Okay. Only if you’ll watch my favorite Bruce Lee film afterwards.”

  “I thought you said I was bowing to stereotypes, making that Bruce Lee reference last week?” She mock-glared at him.

  Robert’s lips quirked. “I didn’t say I wasn’t a fan now, did I?”

  “Oh, you’re good … �
��

  “I know,” he replied, nodding emphatically.

  Donna laughed, wondering that she could still do something so … frivolous. Laughter seemed a long time ago (in a galaxy far, far away—or at least as far away as Ironbridge, with Nav). Having fun seemed wrong, somehow, what with everything that was threatening on the horizon.

  “You must miss them,” Robert said, breaking into her thoughts. Almost reading her mind, it seemed.

  “Who?” she asked, just to make sure.

  “Navin and Xan.” He rolled his eyes. “Who did you think I was talking about? Simon and your aunt?

  “Yeah, right.” She shrugged. “I’ve been staying in contact with Nav pretty much all the time.”

  “And Xan?”

  She shrugged, uncomfortable as to how to address that particular situation. “Off and on, you know? What about you—do you have anyone special? You were pretty dressed up last night. For you.”

  He smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “I did at one time. Or at least, I thought I did. It was years ago, back when I was at school.”

  “How old?”

  “Sixteen,” he replied. His eyes had gone somewhere else.

  “It wasn’t that long ago. You make it sound like you’re ancient.”

  “Five years feels like a lifetime.”

  “You wanna share?” Donna smiled encouragingly at him, trying to shake him out of the suddenly serious mood that had taken hold. She was genuinely interested—she really was—but she was also glad of the chance to take a breather.

  Robert shrugged. “Things didn’t end well.”

  “So tell me how they began.”

  “With a kiss,” he replied, a faint smile appearing and disappearing, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fast.