Dante Valentine

by Lilith Saintcrow

  Then he sighed, fluorescent light running through the inky darkness of his hair. I couldn’t even grab for my swordhilt, I was too busy sinking my right-hand fingers into his hand, trying fruitlessly to get him to let go.

  “I have been endlessly patient with you,” he said softly, each word crisp and distinct, “but we cannot have any more of this. If you will not do as I ask without question, I will shackle you, give you to McKinley, and continue alone.” He didn’t even shift his weight as I kicked again, somehow he avoided the strike without moving, his eyes never leaving mine. “There is something in this game I do not understand, and until I understand fully I will not allow further disobedience. The Prince means to kill you with this errand despite his oath, and someone has almost succeeded in his desires twice already. I am through with playing. Do as I ask, and you can force a penance from me later at your leisure. But for the next seven years, hedaira, you are under my guard. Make it easier for both of us, and simply obey.”

  “Stop it!” My voice bounced off the tiles, smashed and echoed, the straps of my rig dug into my flesh. “Goddammit, Japhrimel, stop it you’re scaring me!”

  He shook me once more, maybe just to drive home how he could keep me if he wanted to, and dropped me. I landed hard, the shock jolting from my heels all the way up to my neck. I rubbed at my sternum where his knuckles had pressed, rubbed it and rubbed it. Had I been human, I’d have been bruised. This puts a whole different complexion on things. My eyes instinctively flicked toward the stairs leading to the surface. If I—

  He caught my chin, cupping delicately, his fingers gentle but iron-hard. I caught a flash of McKinley standing with his arms folded, a study in disinterest though his eyes had a gleam I didn’t like. “Don’t even think of it.” Japhrimel’s tone was oddly tender. “It is for your own good, my curious. You will do as I say.”

  I jerked my chin free of his hand. “You didn’t have to do that.” My pulse beat high and frantic in my throat, and I sounded breathless even to myself. I pushed myself back, the tiled wall meeting me with a thump. He stayed where he was. The snarl on his face was gone as if it had never existed. My head was full of rushing noise; the mark on my shoulder flared with heat sinking all the way down through my chest, spilling through my bones.

  He was still for a long moment, his face expressionless. He moved as if he would touch me, but I flinched back from him, the tip of my scabbard striking the tiled wall, scratching along like a blunt claw. My right hand closed around the hilt, and I stared at him as if he was a stranger, my mouth suddenly dry and the noise inside my head much worse.

  Japhrimel stopped. His eyes dropped, taking in my stance and my white-knuckled hand on the hilt. “I am careful with you,” he said, softly, still in that oddly intimate tone, the one that made him sound more horribly human. “I am so very careful. Can you imagine what would happen, were you caught by a demon who did not care for you?”

  I swallowed dryly. It was one thing to be afraid he would use his strength and speed to force me into whatever he wanted. It was a completely different thing to have him actually do it. My chest ached. My cheek stung as the emerald spat a single glowing spark; my rings spiked and swirled with Power. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I told him, numbly.

  “I will do what is necessary to protect you. Have I not proved it?”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” I could think of nothing else. Tears rose behind my eyes, a hot blurring weight of water. I swallowed them, set my jaw.

  He sighed, shaking his head, the fluorescent light running wetly over his hair and the long fluid severe lines of his coat. His aura closed around me, a touch I tried to push away, couldn’t. “This serves no purpose.”

  “How could you?” I whispered, rubbing at my sternum again. He hadn’t hurt me, not physically, not yet. But I still rubbed at the spot where his knuckles had pressed. “How could you do this to me?”

  “I do what I must.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the wall. “Come. We have a transport to catch.”

  Oh, gods. Anubis, help me. “Where are we going?” I could barely force the words out through numb, shocked lips. I didn’t precisely fight him, but I did resist just enough to make him work for it. He cast me one extraordinarily green glance, but it was McKinley who answered.

  “Another Freetown,” he said, grinning. I didn’t like that grin—it was too wide, too white, and too satisfied with current events. McKinley looked very happy to see me put in my place. “The Sarajevo DMZ.”

  Sarajevo? But why? They don’t allow humans in there.

  I could have dug my heels in and made him carry me, but the thought made me feel sick. I felt nothing more, except maybe a disbelief so huge it swallowed me whole, a disbelief only broken by a single phrase caroling through my head. How could you, Japhrimel? How could you? And under that, an even simpler phrase, repeating over and over again.

  I trusted you.

  CHAPTER 31

  New Prague had a transport dock—Ruzyne—on the outskirts. Japhrimel simply walked through security. McKinley and I did the same, and I found myself ushered aboard a sleek gleaming-black hover. My skin roughened—I hadn’t had much luck with hovers lately. I couldn’t even bolt for freedom on the dock—McKinley led us, and Japhrimel followed me, one hand on my shoulder. Exquisitely gentle, his thumb occasionally stroking my nape, but I’d just gotten an object lesson in how fast he was when he wasn’t playing nice. It would be ridiculous to try to escape him.

  Besides, if there were more hellhounds out there, I didn’t stand much of a chance anyway.

  I dropped into low black pleather seat, laid my katana across my knees, and proceeded to stare out the window at the lights of New Prague. No wonder Bella and Ogami had been frightened. No wonder Japhrimel hadn’t seemed worried with the group’s progress—he’d just been waiting for the enemy to show himself. Just playing patty-cake with me in the meanwhile, callously using the humans as bait. The fact that he’d sent them out with Vann and Tiens didn’t excuse the pitilessness of the action. No harm done, but still.

  I’d been a part of it. He’d made me a part of it. If it had gone bad, I would have been partly responsible.

  Now I also knew why he’d been so damn close-mouthed about the Fallen. If I’d had any intimation that he was no longer bound by the rules of a demon familiar, I might have dug my heels in a little more and demanded he tell me everything. If I’d had any warning.

  I hadn’t had any warning. I hadn’t even known the Devil was asking for me, hadn’t even had a clue. Japhrimel hadn’t acted guilty, or as if he was hiding anything, he had spent every waking moment with me. That led me to an uncomfortable wondering about just how often I’d been left alone while I slept, lulled into defenseless unconsciousness and abandoned while Japhrimel met with Lucifer. It could have happened easily. I’d trusted him.

  He’d changed plans midstroke, bargained with Lucifer for a demon’s Power, and dumped me in the hover to be flown home just like a kid. Never mind about Dante, she’s so easily led. So easily manipulated. Only a human, after all.

  I closed my eyes, searching for calm and an idea. Neither came.

  McKinley took the hover’s controls while he held a murmured conference with Japhrimel. I shut my eyes, opened them again, staring at the lights. Floating streams of hovertraffic threaded between the glowing cubes of high-rises.

  The nagging sense of something wrong had gone away. Something hadn’t jelled, hadn’t seemed right—and this was why. Japh had never had any intention of letting me do what Lucifer’s Right Hand was supposed to do.

  The thought that I wouldn’t have minded playing second fiddle on a hunt like this if he’d just explained to me what was going on wasn’t very comforting either. Demons were nasty, tricky, and mostly too strong and fast for even a hedaira. Never mind that I’d killed an imp. If it hadn’t been for the reactive paint things might have been very different indeed. And the hellhounds… my skin chilled, roughened into actual goosebumps. I mos
t definitely wouldn’t mind backup when facing them.

  Most chilling of all was the logical extension to my line of thought—Lucifer had been angling to snare Japhrimel, use me for bait or distraction, and possibly kill Japh all along. If by some miracle we succeeded, we would still have to deal with the machinations of the Prince of Hell. Chances were if this plan failed, there would be another one. And possibly another after that.

  I didn’t think the Devil believed in giving up easily.

  Japhrimel lowered himself into the seat opposite me. I stared out the window, my fingernails tapping at the hilt. He’d been holding back while sparring with me the whole time. The whole time. He’d even let me cut him once or twice.

  Just to make me feel better?

  Silence. Hoverwhine settled into my back teeth. A lump rose in my throat, I pushed it down. My sternum hurt, but that was because I kept rubbing it, reflexively, unconsciously.

  He stirred, went still, and moved slightly again.

  As if expecting me to say something.

  I held my tongue. I was tempted to scream. Should have screamed. Should have busted out the hover windows and thrown myself down. Gone limp. Nonviolent resistance. Something.

  Anything instead of just sitting there.

  What you cannot escape, you must fight; what you cannot fight, you must endure. An old lesson, my first true life lesson—but I wasn’t enduring. I was simply unable to do anything. I was in a glass ball of calm, a type of shock insulating me from the world. He had used his strength on me, something I’d thought he’d never do. He was going to force me to do what he wanted. I was trapped, by the very last person I’d expected to trap me.

  “I do not require you to forgive me, or to understand,” he said finally. “I demand only your cooperation, which I will get by any means necessary.”

  “You should have told me.” Point for him, he’d made me talk. I didn’t recognize my own voice—none of my usual half-whispering. I said it as if I was a normal discussing dinner plans, the velvet weight of demon beauty in my voice taunting me. “I asked you. You should have told me all of this.”

  “You would not have agreed to any of it.” Quiet, silken. “Especially my request for you to retreat while I deal with things beyond your strength.”

  Gods damn you. You might be right. “We’ll never know now, will we.”

  “Perhaps not.” A small tender smile. I could barely stand to see that expression on his face, his eyes softening and his mouth curving. Didn’t he understand what he’d just done to me?

  I couldn’t help myself. “I could really hate you for this.” You asked me to trust you, I did, and this is what I get? You hurt me, hold me up against a w-wall— I could still feel the casual strength in his hand as he held me helpless, my legs dangling, his knuckles digging into my chest.

  “You will outgrow that.” He still smiled, damn him.

  I don’t think I will. I shut my eyes again, closing him out. The hover banked, my stomach flipped. “You shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t have done that to me.” I sound like a broken holodisc player. Come on, Dante. Snap out of it.

  “I will do what I must. I am your Fallen.” He didn’t sound contrite in the least.

  That would mean something to me if you hadn’t just held me up against the wall and admitted lying to me. “I only have your word for that.” It wasn’t true—I had Lucifer’s word as well as my own experience. But if I couldn’t hurt him with steel, all I had left were words. The darkness behind my eyelids was not comforting, I could still see him, the black diamond flames that meant demon.

  Was it just me, or did he seem to pause uncertainly? “I only wish to keep you safe. You are fragile, Dante, for all that I have given you a share of my strength.”

  I’m strong enough for some things, Japh. Go away. “Leave me alone.”

  “I will not.” Flat, utter negation. I had rarely heard him sound less ironic and more serious.

  “I mean it, Tierce Japhrimel. Leave me alone. Go finish your goddamn hunt and play patty-cake with Lucifer.” I wanted to pull my knees up, curl into a ball, and wait for the tearing pain under my breastbone to go away. I didn’t think it would go soon, but I needed to find a nice dark quiet place to hide in for a little while. “I want to go home.”

  Wherever that is. The whine of hover transport settled in my back teeth. My stomach roiled. I hadn’t felt this unsteady, this defenseless, since… since when?

  Since I’d been about twelve, that’s when. My twelfth year, when the man who had raised me since infancy had been knifed by a Chill junkie. Losing Lewis had left me adrift in a world too big for me, and I felt the same way now, my breath choked and my fingers and toes cold as if I’d just gone treading into the hall of Death, my skin far too sensitive for the brutality of the world.

  I felt very, very small.

  Of course, he knew the thing to say that would hurt me the most. “Do you have a home, Dante?”

  I hunched my shoulders. Saint City’s close enough. That’s where I lived most of my life before you showed up to ruin it. Ruin everything. Dragged me into Hell, turned me into an almost-demon, died and left me alone, come back and finished off by… by… I couldn’t finish the thought. Still felt the tile, cold and hard against my back, and his fingers gone hard instead of caressing. I thought you were my home, Japh.

  My skin crawled. I’d shared my body with him, let him into private corners of myself I had let no other lover access. Even Doreen, who had taught me to have a fierce pride in my body and its needs again, her gentleness opening up whole new worlds to me.

  Even Jace.

  The thought of Jace made the glass ball of calm numbness closed around me crack a little. I set my jaw, determined not to break.

  I will not break. My teeth ground together, my hands tightened on my sword, my emerald spat a single defiant spark.

  He sighed again. “Our legends warn of the price of becoming A’nankhimel. I cannot be human, Dante, not even for you. Can you not understand?”

  What was it in his voice that hurt so badly? Pleading. He was definitely pleading.

  Fury rose inside me, my right hand curling around my swordhilt. My eyes flew open. He’d just held me up against the wall of a New Prague subway station, and he wanted me to understand? “Understand you? I thought I did! I thought I—I thought you—” I seemed to lose all capability of speech, though I didn’t splutter. It was close, though.

  He nodded, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, fingers steepled together. “Rage at me, Dante. Be angry. Extract your vengeance later; I will allow it. As long as you will have me and after, I am yours. There is no escaping it, not now.”

  I shook my head, as if shaking away water. “I would have done anything you asked if you were just honest with me,” I said miserably, tears welling up. I hated myself for crying. I hadn’t cried through the hell of Rigger Hall, I had rarely cried afterward. It was the tone he used, I think, the gentle tone my body responded to. More than the softness in his voice was the betrayal. It was the betrayal that hurt the most.

  Or was it the softness? I couldn’t tell. I found myself rubbing at my sternum again, my knuckles scraping against my shirt under the diagonal leather strap of my rig. I thought I knew you. The lump in my throat swelled bigger each passing second, as if I was trapped in a windowless room.

  “You are still in the habit of being human, Dante. It will take time.” He didn’t even sound sorry. At least when a human guy beat his girlfriend up, he makes a show of being contrite afterwards.

  A hot tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t even fight him, he was too strong. “I could hate you,” I whispered.

  “I warned you that you would. But you will outgrow that too.”

  I glared at him. Jackshit I’m going to outgrow hating you. How could you, Japhrimel? My eyes narrowed slightly, I dropped my right hand with an effort, tapped my swordhilt. Said nothing.

  “You are contracted for seven years to the Prince. I will make sure
you survive them. If I must chain you to my side I will.” His jaw set and his eyes glowed. I believed him.

  Oh, I’ll survive all right. I’m good at surviving. And if I die I have nothing to fear, my god will take me. Maybe you won’t follow me there.

  I closed my eyes again. Leaned my head against the back of the seat. It was actually very comfortable. Nothing but the best for the Devil’s henchmen.

  “You do not have to forgive me,” he repeated. “But I will have your cooperation.”

  “You know,” I said, keeping my voice level, “you could really teach the Devil a thing or two.” The blackness behind my eyelids was tempting. Unfortunately, I could still see him, the tightly controlled black-diamond flames of his aura, still reaching out to enfold me, the mark on my shoulder burning softly, Power spreading down my skin like warm oil. Soothing, like fingers stroking my skin, working out the knots in my muscles, easing away tension.

  There was a faint rustle as if he’d moved, his coat shifting with him. “I am the lesser evil, hedaira. Remember that.”

  There was nothing I could say. If it was either the Devil or Japhrimel, where did that leave me?

  Screwed, that’s where. Painted into a corner by a demon.

  Again.

  CHAPTER 32

  Demilitarized Sarajevo is still almost-contested territory. It took two Nichtvren warlords and a whole cadre—seven Packs—of werecain to restore order after the nightmare of genocide following the Seventy Days War. Nowadays, it’s the kind of place where even psion bounty hunters don’t go—because human bounties don’t either.