Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers

Shit. Bailey stared, appalled, as the knowledge cut through the haze in his mind like an icepick. Someone had gotten the license plate. Ron had more than one person helping him, and Bailey had missed the second confederate. He’d been careful, sure, just not careful enough to keep someone from putting an automatic to the head of a kid who was silly enough to think Bailey knew what he was doing.

Ron looked grim and nervous. Bailey zipped up his shorts hastily and rose to his feet. Lilith stood too, her eyes not leaving the gun. Ron’s gaze went to her and widened with surprise; then he turned back to Bailey.

You’re the guy who was on the boat. Let him say that.

“You’re the guy from Atlanta,” said Ron. “I heard about you.”

Death sentence. Ron would have to make sure he didn’t report back; it was too easy to trace someone off this tiny island, and Ron would have to change tactics and ditch the boat. And even then—once they knew, people would never stop looking for him.

“You called in yet?” Ron asked.

“This evening,” said Bailey.

Ron grinned. “That’s a lie. If you’d called in, I’d know about it.”

That would be an interesting statement, if the gun weren’t such a distraction. And Ron looked jumpy. He was holding the automatic like it might explode if he loosened his grip. Maybe he’d been nervous for a while; he had a few day’s growth of beard, and it occurred to Bailey in one of his compulsive empathic jumps, that maybe it wasn’t just for disguise. This guy looked like he didn’t trust his hands around razors.

Teej was starting to shake, and Lilith shifted on her feet, her predator’s gaze locked on Ron. No, she’d never make it. Not even a jaguar could take out Ron’s throat before that gun went off. Did she realize?

She did, thank God. She wasn’t moving.

“Maybe I’d be better off with your girlfriend,” Ron commented, following his glance. For a second Bailey almost smiled. Ron’s eyes shifted back and forth between them, deciding on his best move.

“Okay,” he said suddenly, looking at Bailey. “You’re with me. Get over here.”

So he wants to switch me for Teej, Bailey thought. This was marginally better, but not a stunning improvement. What was the score supposed to be here? Drive Bailey somewhere, put a nine millimeter through his skull, then come back for Lilith and Teej? Because he would want everyone.

No, not convenient, Bailey thought, moving slowly toward Ron. Better to take them all out now. First Bailey, whom he incorrectly considered the greatest threat. Then Teej. Then the unarmed woman in the halter top last. Damn, and they could have done something with the opposite order.

When he was close enough, Ron pushed Teej out of the way and grabbed Bailey.

He heard Teej sob. He felt the cold barrel against his scalp, Ron’s way of telling him not to move. It was moderately eloquent. Bailey faced Lilith—good, she was watching him. He threw everything he could into his expression. Do it. Do it. He’s only going to shoot Teej next, there’s nothing to gain by waiting, just do it.

She looked at him warily. Lilith, please, just—

She drew herself up to her full height and transferred her gaze to Ron with the air of one discarding the irrelevant. A low sound motored through the night: Lilith was growling. It made Bailey’s hair stand on end. He felt Ron’s start of surprise, felt the barrel move from his head.

Her fangs were enormous. Or maybe it was the fear that sound from her throat created in your guts, making those razors look like what they were.

“What the f—” said Ron.

Then she was on top of him. And the gun went off.

Pain tore through Bailey. He kept his head enough to move out of Lilith’s way.

He retreated against the other end of the L-wall of the house, putting his hand down to his leg to feel the wetness there. “Fuck.” The bullet had gone through his outer thigh. Nice that it hadn’t passed through his torso instead, but it stung like a bitch, and it was only going to get worse.

And Lilith hadn’t torn Ron’s throat out after all. That was mildly surprising. Teej lay on the grass, trying to cry very quietly. Lilith had backed Ron against the other wall and was holding him by his collar, several inches off the ground. His face looked sick in the light of the kitchen window.

Lilith, on the other hand, looked thoroughly inhuman, and outraged. You didn’t need to see fangs to feel the threat, and the alienness, pouring off her. “Who do you think you are?” she inquired of the deer, the stoat, the weasel she held in her grasp. “To come in my house, with a gun. To make someone here cry.”

Bailey heard a pause in Teej’s gasps, at that; heard him try to control his sobs.