Reap the Wind (Cassandra Palmer 7)

“Something I will have to remedy,” he told me, sounding faintly ominous. “Yet you do not think they would spy on the daughter of their old enemy?”

“Yes . . . but I also think . . . they could be . . . good allies. They don’t want the gods back . . . any more than we do.”

“Allies bring something to the table.”

“They . . . bring something to the table,” I said, trying to look at him over my shoulder. And finding it hard, since I needed both hands just to hold on.

Damn; I knew I’d pay for that little tease in the office, sooner or later.

“They killed . . . Apollo,” I managed to say.

“Your mother’s spell killed Apollo, for all intents and purposes.”

“But they finished him off.”

“Yes, that is what they do. Scavengers, vultures, leeches—”

“Some people . . . would say the same thing . . . about vamps.”

“Then those people are fools. We live on earth. Contribute to it in many ways. It is our home. The demons use it as a hunting ground, nothing more.”

I didn’t entirely agree with that, but I was having a hard time thinking clearly with him shuddering to completion. “But . . . but they still wouldn’t . . . want the competition . . . would they?” I asked. “The gods . . . controlled earth when they were here. When the demons came, they . . . fed off them. If the gods come back, the demons lose their favorite snack bar. And maybe become snacks themselves!”

“The fact that you are still able to reason at this point worries me,” Mircea said, and sat down, taking me with him, his body still inside mine. And God, I need a chair like this, I thought dizzily, groaning from the abrupt change in position. And then groaning again as he began pleasuring me with his fingers, teasing, expert, maddening. And had me writhing on his lap in seconds.

And, okay, that was better than talking, which I hadn’t wanted to do anyway. But that was back when I thought we’d be discussing us, which I didn’t know how to do. But this . . . yeah, we needed to talk about this.

But we weren’t. Because I was too busy thrashing and wriggling and squealing and coming. And then lying back against him, exhausted and happy, with what was probably a totally goofy smile on my face. Which, fortunately, he couldn’t see, because God knew he didn’t need the ego boost.

“That doesn’t . . . refute . . . my point,” I said, when I could talk.

And felt the sweaty chest behind me shake slightly.

Mircea had always had what many people viewed as an unfortunate sense of humor. I viewed it as a plus, and one of the most human things about him. He couldn’t help but see the absurdity in things, like us trying to talk politics now of all times.

But when else was I likely to get the chance? And he needed to understand this. Only Mircea didn’t seem to think so.

“Whether the demons are ‘on our side’ or not, they are useless to us,” he told me.

“But they’re powerful—”

“In their own realm, yes. But in faerie?” He shook his head. “Their magic doesn’t work there.”

“Are you sure?” I knew mine didn’t, at least not well. Different worlds had different time streams, and my power seemed to be tied to this one. But the demons didn’t have that problem, so maybe—

But Mircea crushed that idea. “Quite sure. Their strength remains intact, for those who have a body, but their magic falters outside their own realm.”

“But they could be helpful here, couldn’t they? On earth?” I asked, because, as strange as it seemed, earth was their realm. Or, to be more precise, it was one of the hell dimensions. The hells, which weren’t a single world but thousands, were all on the same metaphysical plane, so the same magical laws worked across all of them.

That didn’t mean there weren’t issues. The main one being that human mages, and I guess demons and fey and whatever, manufactured some of their own magic. They were magical creatures, which meant that their bodies acted sort of like talismans, soaking it up from the world they were born in and then generating usable power, like a regular human’s body making vitamin D if they sat in the sun.

But outside their home world, magical beings didn’t absorb as much, meaning their store of power ran low really fast. It would be like trying to make vitamin D while in northern Alaska during winter, when there’s all of a couple hours of sun a day. Possible but not easy.

But it looked easy compared to trying the same thing in faerie.

Because faerie wasn’t a hell, it was a heaven, hard as that was to believe after having been there briefly. And having barely surviving the trip. But, technically, it was in one of the heavenly dimensions, and therefore had magic that worked on totally different rules.

That basically meant zero absorption from the natural world while you were there. You would have what magic you went in with, for as long as it lasted you, and then that was it. Instead of Alaska, it would be like being in a dark room and being told to make vitamin D—not happening.