Brush of Darkness by Allison Pang Read Free Book Online

his neck, it wasn’t overly human. Hysterical visions of people running for the exits pursued by a massive cock and balls filled my mind, and I let out a gasp of laughter despite myself.
    “That’s enough.” I let my voice drop into something soothing and quiet, the way Moira did when she was trying to stave off an argument between Paths. I inserted myself between the two men, stroking the crest of Brystion’s wrist with a careful thumb.
    The daemonic races in particular respond to physical stimulation, even if it be a simple stroke of the hand. A tiny distraction may be the difference between life and death.
Moira’s lilting voice echoed through my mind, even as I remembered the elegant scrawl of her notes on the tattered book she’d given me to study.
    The incubus started beneath my touch, but his attention remained fixed on Topher. “Your Dreams are empty, mortal,” he rumbled, eyeing the other man like he’d found the remains of something dead and furry beneath his foot. With a shake, he pulled away from me, his eyes growing dark once more as the lines around his body shifted back into hisGlamour.
    “I beg your pardon?” Topher’s lips paled beneath the soft light of the gallery. For a moment, his face came alive with that old spark, and I marveled to see it. A flush of anger colored his cheeks and chased away the pall of death that had surrounded him for months. He was brilliant for a span of seconds and then it faded, leaving him wan and drained. He raised his head proudly. “I assure you, I can and
did
paint her, just as was requested. Succubus or not, she sat for me by choice.”
    “I doubt that. Where is she?”
    Topher’s face became impassive. “Short of this picture, I have not seen her since the night she posed for me.”
    Brystion snorted. “You did a shit job on Abby’s as well. Whatever talent you once had is gone. Have some dignity and get on with your life.”
    The artist’s mouth flattened into a sour line. “My dear,” he said, waving over the security guard. “I’m going to have to ask your friend to leave. He’s causing a scene, and I’m afraid my nerves can’t take it. Would you mind escorting him out?”
    I shrugged helplessly at him, my cheeks burning beneath the onslaught of stares from the other patrons. I tugged at Brystion’s shirt, my face stony. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
    He was silent as I led him outside, but the anger that radiated from him made me want to retreat to my bedroom and hide beneath the blankets. It didn’t stop me from opening my mouth again though.
    “Hey, awesome job at embarrassing the living shit out of me in front of my friend.”
    “There is no way Sonja would have gotten near him, let alone sat willingly in chains. In
chains,
Abby!”
    “Okay, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a dick. You said she was missing. Did it ever occur to you to be niceto someone who might have seen her recently?” He made a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl, keeping pace with me as I headed back to the Pit. Not quite an acknowledgment of guilt, but not admitting anything either. Typical male.
    We walked in silence for several blocks, my feet knowing the way back without my having to think about it. Past the pawnshop and the Bagel Café, Fiddler’s Green Fine Irish Gifts and the Opera Alley where the buskers performed. A glass player sat there tonight, perched behind a table full of elegant crystal, his fingers nimbly plying his trade. It was late enough that most of the shops were closed, but we moved through the waning crowds without issue, the vibrato of the glass music echoing eerily between the buildings as we walked.
    “And I happen to
like
mermaids, you know,” I said finally, unable to stand the quiet. I didn’t know what else to talk about but the paintings.
    “He made your tits too small,” he grunted as we turned the corner, ignoring my muffled snort of mock outrage. “That and the expression on your face . . .” He paused,